Stay at the Junction.
Organization of Twenty-fourth Regiment as Afterwards Completed.
March to Camp Davis Ford.
First Night on Picket.
Alarm.
March to the Town of Occoquan and Back Again.
A War of Words.
Serious Fight Imminent.
Leaving the Twenty-fourth Regiment.
Camp Tick Grove, and a Personal Difference.
A More Perfect Union.
Camp Wigfall.
Officers of the Seventh Virginia Regiment.
Blondeau's Shot.
How We Cooked, Ate and Slept.
Shannon's Bob.
Rumors Afloat of Pending Battle.
Three Days' Rations Cooked.
The day, or second day, after arriving at Manassas, began the
organization of the 24th Virginia Regiment of Infantry, with companies
from the counties of Carroll, Floyd, Montgomery, Henry, Franklin,
Patrick, Mercer and Giles, including our company, the regiment
numbering about one thousand men. In our company were J. Tyler Frazier,
the company Chaplain, Thomas S. Taylor, James B. Henderson, the
Eggleston boys, and perhaps others not now recalled, whose custom and
habit was not to retire at night until they had held devotional
exercises, thanked God for His past mercies and blessings, and asked
His care and protection during the night. This they had not failed to
do since leaving home. Taps were sounded at nine o'clock, when all
lights must be extinguished. One night at Manassas taps sounded while
the boys were at their devotions. Colonel Hairston, seeing the light in
their tent still burning, had the boys marched to the guard house; but
they were soon released.
After two or three days at the Junction, we marched seven or eight
miles to Davis' Ford on the Occoquan river, a stream formed by the
junction of Cedar Run, Broad Run, and Bull Run, where we went into
camp, pitching tents in a field on the right of the road, behind a
skirt of pines which lined the northeast bank of the stream. The
Occoquan here is small, with high banks. The field where we camped was
barren, not even covered with grass. Our beds were mother earth, our
rations were cooked in frying pans and camp-kettles, and we had to wash
our own clothes, often without soap.
Company drill was our daily avocation, and when well and closely
followed was quite irksome, especially in warm, sultry weather. We also
performed quarter guard and did picket duty, the latter by detachments
from the various companies, under the command of a commissioned
officer, arranged by alternate service. The picket post was nearly a
mile in advance of the camp, the small stream flowing between.
No one but a soldier can form any proper conception of the feelings and
imaginations of a green boy performing his first night's picket duty on
the outpost, and in order to give some meager idea of such a situation,
the writer will here relate his personal experience during his first
night on the outpost.
It must be kept in mind that the private soldier is supposed to be a
mere machine, which, if not in working order, may somewhere along the
line produce friction. This machine is supposed to know nothing but his
duty and obey orders,--the instructions of his superiors. If placed on
outpost duty and told that there is nothing in front of him but the
enemy, to keep a sharp lookout, and to warn of the approach of danger,
he is not expected to ask questions. My time came to go on duty at ten
o'clock at night. The night was cloudy and dark, but pleasant. I was
placed on the road by which it was supposed the enemy might come, and
given the countersign. From ten o'clock to twelve, midnight, was the
time I had to remain, unless the enemy captured or ran me away. What a
long two hours! The silence was oppressive. I stood peering through the
darkness, away a half a mile or more from any human being, so far as I
knew, imagining that every noise or bush shaken by the passing breeze
was a veritable foe.
The long two hours had nearly passed away, when--hush! in the distance,
on the hard beaten road, not two hundred yards away, came the sound of
approaching hoof-beats. Yankees, of course! Who else could they be? I
had no information that any of our troops were on the road in front of
us. What should I do? To fire before challenging and alarm the camp
would be highly improper; to run away without challenging or firing
would be an act of cowardice. So, nerving myself as well as I could
under the circumstances, remembering the instructions and countersign,
I awaited the coming of the party with all the courage I then seemed
to possess. Supposing them to have approached to within some fifty
yards,--though it was most likely a hundred yards--I challenged
the party, and was answered, "Friends, with the countersign." Then
the rejoinder, "One of you dismount, come forward and give the
countersign," which was quickly done, and the party passed on; and you,
gentle reader, may be assured there was one on his first night's picket
duty who breathed with more ease. The spell was broken,--thereafter I
had less trouble when on the outpost.
A few nights after this occurrence, the soldier on duty at this same
post discharged his musket, which aroused the camp nearly a mile away.
Such excitement was scarcely ever witnessed. The long roll sounded,
officers cried out, "Fall in! Fall in! The enemy is coming!" Had this
been true, there is little doubt that in the confusion and darkness of
the night there would have been a stampede.
On the 10th of June we struck tents, taking up the line of march for
the village of Occoquan, in the direction of the Potomac River. Our
march was only about twelve miles,--hot, dry and dusty, through a
country scarce of water. Many a scuffle at wells that we passed took
place among the men famishing for water. Our march by the route step
was rapid, much too rapid for troops unused to marching and carrying
guns, accouterments, knapsacks, blankets and canteens, which, together,
weighed from fifty to seventy-five pounds, and which, with our heavy,
close fitting coats, made the march burdensome and cruel in the
extreme; this in part because the commandant refused to halt for rest
or to allow the men to get water. About sunset camp was reached, all
hands broken down and exhausted. Next day we marched back, our boys in
disgust, some of them quoting the King of France, who with fifty
thousand men marched up the hill and then marched down again.
On the tramp to Occoquan occurred a difficulty between Lieutenant
Hairston and our Lieutenant Gibson, the two high bloods squaring
themselves in the road for battle, but the prompt intervention of Major
J. P. Hammett of the regiment prevented the trouble, which threatened
to involve not only the two officers but their respective companies,
and which difficulty was the cause of the transfer of our company from
the 24th to the 7th Virginia regiment.
We rested for a few days in camp in a grove of pines not far from
Manassas, to which we gave the name of "Camp Tick Grove," from the fact
of our being nearly eaten up by the seed-ticks that infest that region.
Nothing of interest transpired while in this camp further than that the
writer had a small personal difference with a great burly fellow, which
but for the timely interference of a comrade might have resulted in
somebody getting threshed. It was a trifling affair, soon over and
forgotten. Our transfer to the 7th Virginia regiment being duly
effected, we left the "camp of terror" and at Camp Wigfall formed a
more perfect union with our new regiment, commanded by Colonel James L.
Kemper of Madison County; of which regiment Lewis B. Williams of Orange
was lieutenant-colonel, and W. T. Patton, of Culpeper, major.
This regiment was formed of ten companies, two from Madison, two from
Rappahannock, one from Albemarle, one from Greene, one from Orange,
one from Washington, D.C., one from Culpeper, and one from
Giles--designated by letters as follows:
Co. A, Capt. John Welch, Madison County.
Co. B, Capt. Thos. B. Massie, Rappahannock County.
Co. C, Capt. John C. Porter, Culpeper County.
Co. D, Capt. James H. French, Giles County.
Co. E, Capt. John Taylor, Culpeper and Orange Counties.
Co. F, Capt. F. M. McMullen, Greene County.
[1]Co. G, Capt. Austin Walden, Rappahannock County.
Co. H, Capt. William Cleary, District of Columbia.
Co. I, Capt. Isaac Winn, Albemarle County.
Co. K, Capt. William Lovell, Madison County.
Dr. C. Bruce Morton, Surgeon.
Rev. Mr. Bocock, Chaplain.
Rev. Mr. McCarthy, Chaplain.
Rev. Mr. J. Tyler Frazier, Acting Chaplain.
Captain Crisler, Quartermaster.
Captain Graves, Quartermaster.
Captain J. W. Green, Commissary.
The adjutants who served in the 7th Virginia were:
Charles C. Flowerree, 1861 to April, 1862.
E. B. Starke, April, 1862, to June 30, 1862.
Hugh M. Patton, ----, 1862, to August 30, 1862.
John H. Parr, September, 1862, to April, 1865.
Sergeant-Majors:
George S. Tansill, to June 30, 1862.
---- Park, to August 30, 1862.
David E. Johnston, from November, 1862, to April, 1865.[2]
[1] This company joined the regiment on the morning of the
day of first battle of Manassas.
[2] I recall the names of some of the officers who came in
later as well as men, to wit: Captains W. O. Fry, Thomas Fry,
F. McMullen; J. W. Almerid, Thos. Harris, Phil S. Ashby,
Thos. G. Popham, Jas. G. Tansill; Lieutenants Porter, Jas.
Brown; Sergeants Wm. Aylor, Apperson, Parrott, Billy Fray, H.
C. Burrows and Frank Burrows.
Camp Wigfall was situate on a beautiful upland grass plot, a short
distance southeast of Manassas, and not far from Bull Run. Here we
spent the time rather pleasantly, engaging in daily company and
battalion drill and doing picket duty on two old country roads leading
in the direction of Bull Run.
Blondeau, the Frenchman, belonging to Company H, caused quite a stir
and excitement one night by firing his gun at an imaginary foe, which
turned out to be a cow browsing in the brush near him. The long roll
was sounded, the camp aroused, the regiment put into line, but before
this was accomplished the camp was in an uproar, one had lost his
boots, another his trousers, another his gun, etc. On the companies
reaching their positions in regimental line, ten rounds of ammunition
were ordered given each man, and non-commissioned officers directed to
make the distribution. It was often told of our Corporal Stone that
while dealing out ammunition, on the occasion referred to, one of the
men remarked to him that he was giving him more than ten caps, to which
the Corporal replied in quick, sharp tone, "Oh, it's no time to count
caps now!" Of course no one knowing the Corporal attributed his remark
to a want of courage, for no cooler, truer, braver man belonged to the
company. Such signification as it had was simply that men unused to
"war's alarms," aroused from slumber at the dead of night, would,
despite themselves, become excited and impatient, and especially so
when they momentarily expected the enemy to pounce upon them; but no
enemy came. We, however, rested on our arms the remainder of the night;
and though no foe appeared, some of the men were credited with having
seen some in the distance--on the hills, in the open fields, but on the
coming of light they were found to be merely harmless bushes. On such
occasions the imagination is naturally fertile.
The camp becoming quiet, we settled down to old habits. Rations were
abundant, more thrown away than we consumed. Inaction was not good for
us, and numbers of men became sick and were sent to hospital. Our
soldiers, like other people, loved to sleep. If their rest was broken
or disturbed at night, by picket, quarter guard, duty, or otherwise,
they were sure to take a nap the next day, if the flies, of which there
were swarms, would allow them to snooze. If they failed to get their
nap during the day they were pretty sure to have their nocturnal
slumbers disturbed by gnats and mosquitos, especially during the warm
nights.
Two members of our company, Samuel B. and Joseph C. Shannon, sons of
Thomas Shannon, had with them a negro servant, Bob, as their cook. Bob
was noted for his propensity for laughing, and when in a good glee he
could be heard half a mile. He was very patriotic, and declared his
purpose to go into battle with his young masters; that he could and
would fight as well as we, and shoot as many Yankees. In this Bob was
in earnest, as he believed; but ere long his courage was to be put to a
practical test, for rumors were already afloat in the camp that the
enemy was advancing and a battle impending.
The private soldier knows little of what takes place, other than that
which comes under his immediate observation. His general was supposed
to keep his own counsels, not allowing his left hand to know what he
intended to do with his right. Later on, the private soldier of the
Civil War became often as wise about what was on hand as his superior.
An order came to cook three days' rations, pack haversacks, and be
ready to move at a moment's notice. From this, we knew something was
up. Just what, we could not tell; however, we learned that the enemy
was advancing, and a battle to be fought. All was now activity and
preparation in the camp, and the men in high spirits and ready for the
fray.