gather up any loose rebels in the vicinity of Dunn's Lake. Probably
there were more soldiers in that command alone, than the rebels had in
the entire state of Florida at the time. There was no accounting for
novelties in the department, illustrative of experimental or
theoretical campaigning. And while Folly Island was anchored
permanently, its suggestive and appropriate title was indelibly stamped
upon nearly every expedition organized in the Department, from
September, 1863, until the close of the war.
It was an extensive experiment station for the engineer officers of the
army and for the navy. There they could study the flight of missiles
and their force; the relative difference in guns and mortars, and
resistance of sand and iron armor. In short, it was a safe school where
many a favorite matriculated and from which very few graduated. It was
called warfare, because there were hospitals there and many graves.
Soon after the return from the second excursion, Col. Carmichael with
fifty picked men were taken across the river and landed near Green Cove
Springs. They proceeded into the country, returning next day, having
captured a rebel mail and several horses.
On Sunday, May 29th, two regiments came over from St. Augustine and the
157th boys were ordered to be ready to move at noon with four day's
rations and sixty rounds of cartridges and rubber blanket or piece of
shelter tent. The men were drawn up in line, expecting to move, and
were finally returned to their quarters.
Next day a boat came up from below and Co. G, as night fell over the
tropical scene, stepped once again upon a steamer and near midnight
found themselves behind the works in front of Jacksonville.
The morning of the 31st the sun rose angry. Co. G still lay behind the
works. There was mystery all around them; a sort of mystery peculiar to
the climate--a lazy mystery. Co. G did not broach the mystery--when
they were wanted, was time enough for them.
As soon as darkness came, the boys were marched aboard of a steamer and
were taken about eighteen miles up the river and landed at the mouth of
a creek, on the west bank.
It was long past bedtime when the boys laid themselves down to rest--3
o'clock in the morning. They were allowed to sleep until near daybreak
and were then aroused very quietly, lest the rebels should hear. No
fires were allowed and any boy who lighted a pipe, did so very slyly.
The men were told to eat something, then to fill their canteens from a
neighboring brook, as no more water would be found before night--a
delightful country, that land of flowers.
Col. Noble of the 17th Conn., (a dignified officer whose hair was very
gray) commanded the party. All officers were dismounted.
Soon after daylight the column started. It was composed of three or
four regiments, one of them colored.
As the day lengthened, the heat grew intense. At noon time it was so
hot the birds ceased their callings, butterflies took to cover; the
horny leaves of the palmetto scrub curled as the corn leaves curl and
twist under an August sun. Not the slightest breeze stirred the air;
there was a bluish haze in the atmosphere.
As often it occurs on such a march, some of the men drink all the water
in their canteens before the day is half gone. With care three pints of
water can be made to last a long time. And on the present occasion,
long before night, many of the men carried empty canteens. Among the
colored men the suffering was marked. They became desperate and
threatened to leave the column. Col. Noble finally drew a revolver and
ordered them into the ranks.
At nightfall Camp Milton was reached, preparations were made for a
battle. Co. G were thrown forward as skirmishers and advanced. The
rebels had retreated.
Plenty of water was found in a narrow stream and the boys enjoyed their
first cup of coffee of that day. They had marched thirty-two miles.
While they were eating their breakfast next morning, the pickets were
driven in. As soon as possible Co. G were thrown forward. Pickets in
front of them were firing rapidly. Co. G with arms at trail moved out
in front a quarter of a mile, but saw nothing to shoot. The boys were
not surprised--they had once camped on Folly Island.
Near noon the expedition started for Jacksonville, the 157th as rear
guard. All went well until Camp Finnegan, twelve or fifteen miles from
Jacksonville was reached. (Camps Milton and Finnegan were rebel camps).
While crossing a small creek the enemy appeared on the opposite side of
the clearing and opened fire at long range. A colored company, thrown
out to cover the crossing, replied to the rebels. Again was Co. G
ordered into skirmish line and their Enfield rifles soon closed the
battle. One or two men were slightly wounded.
Many of the boys suffered on this return march, even more than on the
preceding day. But they reached Jacksonville without further incident
and were taken at once to the river and aboard a steamer. The events of
the day had excited the people at headquarters and Col. Carmichael was
ordered to again land his men and march them to the trenches for the
night. He appealed for rations and was referred to the Sanitary
Commission Agent, who issued to the 157th a barrel of milk crackers.
The boys made the most of their opportunities, and soon were asleep in
their old trenches at Jacksonville, and for the last time.
Next day, June 3d, the regiment went aboard a steamer and returned to
Picolata.
The touring experience of Co. G in Florida was not luxurious. And when,
after about four months stay, orders came to pack up and leave
Picolata, not a regret was heard.
June 12th they swung away from the dock and the same evening were at
Fernandina, and where amidst a chorus of "hellos!" the regiment was
once more united.
On the 13th, the detachment in which was Co. G started for Hilton Head.
The wind was right ahead and the vessel, a ferryboat; she pounded the
sea like a thresher, and the captain put back to Fernandina. There they
lay until the 16th of June, when the sea went down and the voyage was
completed.
Co. G landed at Hilton Head on Thursday and went into camp. On the
Saturday following a deserter belonging to another regiment was shot
and Co. G was compelled to witness the execution. Poor deserter. Alas,
for Co. G, to be drawn up to witness the killing of a man in cold
blood! There were some phases of military life more brutal even than
battles. Some formalities in the infliction of penalties, more horrible
than the crime itself. And it is doubtful if the lesson thus taught, is
made more impressive by a display of cruel ceremony. And the cowardice
of the custom. No good soldier need be thus reminded that desertions in
the face of the enemy is death. Let us hope, as time goes on, the
nation will demand that unnecessary torture be avoided in warfare--that
in order to punish one man, it is not necessary to torture his
comrades.
Camp at Hilton Head was located out on the barren sand. During the day
the tents were intolerably hot and for guards about the camp screens
were built to shield them from the sun. At night cool breezes came in
from the ocean and then the boys forgot the hungry fleas and slumbered.
Rigid sanitary rules were enforced. Ice was obtained from the Sanitary
Commission to cool the lips of the sick ones in the hospital tent, and
a barrel was kept supplied with iced water for general drinking
purposes. That barrel, the boys will remember, was for some reason
noticeably charged with the flavor of Tommy Reagan's "nice swate
vinegar."
There was considerable sickness among the men and several deaths in the
regiment.
The discharge of the hospital steward had left a vacancy to which W. H.
Perry of Co. G had been promoted.
As for Co. G they kept as cool as possible. While those boys were not
engaged in gathering laurels they were very watchful of those already
gained.
The brush at Finnegan's Camp had whetted the appetite of Co. G for
gore. They had fired four or five rounds at long range and unhorsed
several johnnies. Quite an achievement in the Department of the South.
To work off their surplus ardor, or else to prevent their getting too
fat and indolent, on the 1st of July, loaded down with cartridges and
rations, the regiment marched aboard a steamer at dark and in the
morning of the 2nd found themselves on the North Edisto river, and
landed near Rockville, on John's Island. Co. G was soon on familiar
ground. For the next few days the progress up John's Island was made
under a scorching sun, estimated at 110 degrees in the shade (compared
with previous observations). By July 5th the expedition was within six
miles of Charleston. There had been but little resistance, although
considerable powder had been burned.
On a foggy morning at daybreak of the 9th the rebels advanced in force.
Capt. McWilliams and Lieut. Forbes, with detachments from the 157th
held the center of the picket line until nearly surrounded.
Then, as customary in the Department, the forces of the expedition were
"withdrawn in good order" and returned to their respective camps.
Did Gilmore or Foster ever wish to capture Charleston? Did the War
Department desire its capture? Enough men composed that expedition
(some five or six thousand troops) to have made a telling dash and if
properly supported by the navy, a permanent footing might have been
established quite near the city. Such sneaking up in the night, making
faces at the surprised rebels next morning and then withdrawing "in
good order," was burlesque warfare.
Unfortunately, now and then, a poor fellow fell under the rain of iron
or the whistling lead, hundreds were sickening, many were dying on
those desolate sands.
And while the boys were enduring such mock warfare, the dear ones at
home thought of them only as their soldiers. One of the war poets sang--
"We sit at home, nor feel that they
Who fight upon the distant plain
Are falling faster, day by day,
A harvest of the slain."
Indeed, there was little poetry in life among the sand hills, no music
in the roar of old ocean, and no comfort with the fleas. The subject
becomes tedious; and yet the boys of Co. G must be followed until the
close.
The loss in the 157th on the second John's Island raid, was one man, a
prisoner. A poor fellow nick-named "Lightning," who was considered
mentally unsound. It is to be hoped the rebels did not regard that man
as representing the regiment, whatever they might have thought of him
as a representative of the Department in general.
As to the object of the expedition, history says, Gen. Foster was
trying to draw troops to Charleston and thus relieve Gen. Sherman, who
was advancing on his famous Atlanta campaign. The success of the
movement is not known, but it is supposed troops were sent from the
rebel army. Five thousand additional enemies would have added but
little to the force before Sherman and his determined troops.
July 24th Co. G were temporarily detached to guard fifty rebel officers
who had been sent down from the Northern prisons to be placed under
fire on Morris Island. The brig Dragoon lay out in the stream at Hilton
Head. It was the duty of Co. G to see that those officers did not
escape. Among them were Gens. Gardner, the former commandant at Port
Hudson; Ed. Johnson, a prominent officer; also Jeff Thompson. Archer
and G. W. Stuart and a long list of colonels and subordinate officers.
Co. G did their duty and remained with their charge until an exchange
was effected, which occurred a few days later.
In the first days of September six hundred officers, ranging in rank
from colonels to lieutenants were sent down to be placed under fire
before Charleston, in retaliation for a similar piece of shrewdness on
the part of the rebels. As soon as Gilmore began to throw shells into
Charleston the righteous indignation of rebels in the field and their
sympathizers North reached the explosive point. The idea of retaliative
measures was a product of the brain of Jeff Davis. Burning cities is
legitimate warfare. Confining helpless prisoners under fire is
barbarous.
Those six hundred rebel officers were to be placed in a stockade on
Morris Island, built between Fort Strong and batteries on Cummings
Point.
On the sixth of September the prisoners were landed at the island and
were transferred to their new guard, the 54th Mass., a colored
regiment.
Sept. 5th the camp was struck at Hilton Head and by a very
accommodating order the men were permitted to take with them to Morris
Island such little useful articles as they desired, and so it came to
pass that the ferryboat conveying the camp equipage was generously
laden with bundles of boards, rude benches and tables, wash-tubs and
the like. So that a few hours' work by experienced hands made the boys
as comfortable as in their former camp. About all they had parted with
were the few fleas.
A few words in parting and the flea is given a rest. This sand-flea is
a small affair,--not the sand-flea, or chigre, of science--but a
genuine flea. Co. G became very expert catching him. When a boy was
struck, down went his stocking, the flea slid into the coarse meshes,
usually too late. Some of the sufferers became expert and caught the
little raiders in the dark. One man has been known to awaken from his
sleep with two captives, one between the thumb and fore finger of each
hand. Reader, believe this, it is correct. If you cannot believe the
story, forgive the man, for he was sorely tried.
The flea of Sweden undoubtedly was larger and more defiant. History
states the Queen Christina kept a little wee cannon for the purpose of
shooting them. The cannon is to be seen at Stockholm. Co. G found no
flea too large to handle easily and effectually.
Camp on Morris Island was very clean, very hot and when the wind blew,
quite unpleasant from the sand blowing into the eyes. Co. G, however,
had become reconciled to all denials. They amused themselves as best
they could. Drank plentifully of Levi Randall's dried-apple beer,
scoured their brass jewelry and traded with the colored troops; read
and re-read the old newspapers, wrote a little and slept, whenever
permitted. At night large details were marched to Fort Putnam or Fort
Chatfield, and there spent the night, if undisturbed, sleeping soundly,
while the city gun roared three times every hour. Often a brisk firing
between Sullivan's Island and other rebel forts, made the place
uproarious and cartloads of iron were flying about. But they became
accustomed to the shelling and paid it slight attention. Only one
member of the regiment was struck by the shells and he persistently
exposed himself.
Details were sent up to the Point, three miles from camp, on fatigue
duty working on the fortifications. One day while a party of the
regiment were thus engaged the rebels opened spitefully. By noontime
the boys were hungry. Punctual came Pat Matthews with a kettle of
Ziba's best pea soup, and Co. G were happy. The boys of other companies
waited until the firing ceased, when their food came. This is not given
to reflect upon other cooks, but to illustrate Pat's indifference to
danger.
When the regiment lay in rear of the battery at Gettysburg, July 1st,
the air was noisy with bursting shells, the pieces striking around
viciously. And during that interesting hour the men lay very close to
the earth.
"Where's Co. G? Ah, there yez are." It was Pat, who had brought them
his camp kettle filled with cool water.
"Pat, what the divil are ye doing here? Don't ye hear them fellers?"
Thus spoke his brother Jim.
Pat cocked his ear a moment, for he was quite deaf, then turned to the
boys.
"Ah, what the divil do I care for them. Say, b'ys, don't yez want some
water?"
Never did Ziba allow his boys to be neglected if he could prevent.
Sometimes the marching was hard for him and then the boys carried his
kettle. But if any company was better served, it is not known.
Much has been written of the "Swamp Angel," a gun planted away out in
the marsh on the south side of Morris Island and a mile or more from
Cummings Point. The battery consisted of one gun which burst after
firing twenty or thirty shots; afterwards the place was occupied as an
outpost. Beyond the "Angel" battery was another post called Paine's
Dock. The dock was the historic floating battery used by the rebels in
1861, when Sumter was first attacked. Proving a veritable slaughter-pen
it was dismantled and abandoned and floated away with the tide and
grounded on the southern point of Morris Island. It received a new name
in honor of Capt. Paine, a Union officer who, while scouting, was
captured there. The pathway which led over the soft marsh to those
points, was for two miles covered with planking. Frequently Co. G had
representatives sent there on picket, who sometimes were obliged to
seek refuge under Paine's Dock to escape the shells from a James Island
battery known as "Bull-of-the-Woods."
There were times, when snugly protected from the heavy fire, the boys
at the Point found time dragging heavily. Then the story-tellers were
called upon. Hugh O'Brien was requested to narrate the trials and
triumphs of the handsome cavalier and a princess, entitled "The Beauty
of the W-o-r-rld." John Miller was easily prevailed upon to produce
with dramatic effects, the narrow escape of a Negro from being buried
in the hay-mow at "Old Harve's" (his father's) farm. For the boys
needed some relaxation in the struggle for glory--slight compensation
for duty well-done, and fun counted big, sometimes. History records
exposures in winter's sleet, marches under a tropical sun, sleeping on
frozen ground, as well as in a climate where the dew falls like fine
mist--where fog rolls up dank from malarious swamps. But when the boys
rehearse their stories of the war, they will cherish most the little
kindnesses and words which helped to ease their burdens and drive away
the gloom.
Inspections on that barren Morris Island were very trying. A man to
stand for an hour fully accoutered, with knapsack strapped on his back,
the dress coat buttoned close to his chin, his straps drawing his
clothing tight about him--to stand thus in a hot sun on a breezeless
day, is pitiful torture. Occasionally a man fell down in the ranks. And
when the men returned to their quarters they were as tired as though
they had been marching. Of course it would not have been the proper
thing to inspect the troops in the cool of the day--that would not have
been consistent with Folly Island tactics.
And so went along the duty on Morris Island. At night when at the Point
on picket, the comrades remaining in camp saw the flying bombs from
Sullivan's Island, like meteors, rise from the mortars and following a
regulated arc, drop apparently where their comrades were stationed. At
times the display was fearfully grand and then a monitor or two would
steam up toward Fort Moultrie and take a hand in the excitement.
Suddenly, the rebel fire ceased, the monitors and Cummings Point
ceased; and all was quiet for the night, save the regular booming of
the city gun.
An interesting event occurred while the 157th lay on Morris Island. It
was casting the soldiers' vote. Gov. Seymour vetoed the bill allowing
the soldiers to vote and it was carried to the people in the spring
elections of 1864, and thus was legalized. In the district of Canastota
but two votes were cast against the privilege, thus placing the western
portion of Lenox on record as not only loyal, but true to their boys in
the field. The vote in the regiment was three hundred and nine. Of
these, Lincoln received two hundred and sixty-eight. McClellan received
forty-one.
In Co. G the vote stood, thirty for Lincoln and prosecution of the war,
and seven for McClellan and a patched-up peace. Co. G was willing to
fight for peace, but not to vote for peace.
The ballots were supplied by the State and each one of them was
enclosed by the voter, in a special envelope marked "Soldier's Vote,"
upon which the soldier wrote his name. That envelope was sealed and
inclosed in another envelope and directed to the person who was to cast
the vote.
Credit is due Col. Brown, who sent to Hilton Head and at his own
expense provided ballots for the democrats of his regiment, their
ballots not having arrived at the time. Whether those provided by Col.
Brown were used, is not known. This statement is recorded, because
there were unpleasant reflections cast upon the colonel, who was a
strong republican but was nevertheless, honorable in this instance.
Those first fifty officers confined in Charleston jail and under fire
of Gilmore's guns as already intimated, were replaced by six hundred
Union officers. Among this last detail from the rebel prisons were
Lieuts. Coffin, Powers and Curtice of the 157th. Fortunately the Union
shells usually went beyond the prison and there were no casualties from
that source. The placing of six hundred rebel officers under fire in a
pen guarded by a colored regiment was retaliation with insult added,
according to Southern sentiment. But the 54th Mass. were Northern men
and were inferior, as soldiers, to none in the army. It was humiliating
to men of spirit,--to Southern men taught from childhood to consider a
negro little better than a brute--when they were ordered into line by
colored sergeants and compelled to obey the rules. Verily, Jeff Davis
was subjecting his brave supporters to hard usage.
The pen was in sight from the rebel shore, and it was rare a shell
exploded near there; no prisoner was injured by shells. In one or two
instances the guards fired upon some man and unoffending ones were
slightly wounded. They had nearly the same rations as were given the
Union officers in Charleston. Had they been guarded by white soldiers
they would have been contented. At night the calcium lamp on Fort
Strong lighted the Point and enabled the guards to keep the prisoners
constantly in view.
Late in October the union officers having been removed to the rear of
Charleston, orders came to send the rebel officers to Fort Pulaski, Ga.
The six hundred confederates had dwindled to five hundred and
forty-nine within fifty days after leaving Fort Delaware. They had been
under fire forty-five days.
Oct. 21st, 1864, the 157th were marched out on the beach and opened
ranks. The 54th Mass. came down the beach with their prisoners, who
moved in between the lines of their new guard. Two dismasted schooners
were lying at the wharf at Lighthouse Inlet, into which were marched
those rebel officers. The hulks, towed by steamers and convoyed by a
large war vessel, proceeded to Fort Pulaski, near the mouth of Savannah
River.
It was late when the boats reached the fort dock and the hulks were
anchored in mid-stream for the night.
During the night, on board the hulk where Co. G were stationed, there
was quite a sensation created by the prisoners attempting to escape.
They sawed a hole through the counter, or stern of the vessel, and
several of them dropped through into the water. Not far distant was the
salt marsh and Tybee Island; if they could have reached land they might
have gotten away, some of them, certainly. But their calculations were
wrong--the strong tide was running out and they were carried rapidly
toward the sea.
"Halt! Halt!!" sang out Hugh O'Brien.
"Don't shoot, Captain. For God's sake don't fire!" came out of the
water.
"Keep cool, gentlemen!" called out Capt. McWilliams.
Not much likelihood of sweating in the river. When the patrol boat
brought them on board, their teeth rattled like castanets. The dripping
fellows asked for something warm, as they went down again into the
hold.
In the morning they were landed at the fort and placed in the
casemates. Gratings were placed in the embrasures and at the ends of
the prison; heavy guards were on duty outside and inside. They were fed
on clean food, had abundance of pure drinking water, received medical
attendance when sick and in all respects fared very decently. And when
a number of them were exchanged they sent an appreciative note to Col.
Brown, speaking of him as "a gallant officer and a Christian
gentleman." They included the names of Col. Carmichael and Maj. Place
"and in fact, the conduct of all your officers and men has been such as
to make the name of the 157th N.Y., a pleasant reminiscence to all
Confederate prisoners from Fort Pulaski."