The muster-roll of the Grays, in camp near Fredericksburg, numbered,
on the 31st day of December, for duty, two commissioned officers, four
sergeants, four corporals, and thirty-eight privates; on detached
service, six privates; sick (present), three privates; sick and
wounded (absent) twenty-three privates; total present and absent, rank
and file, eighty-nine.
On the third of January, 1863, we were ordered to hold ourselves in
readiness to march, and about 10 o'clock we were on the road leading
towards Richmond. The first day's march found us encamped on the
Telegraph Road, 15 miles from Fredericksburg. We arrived at Richmond
on the 6th, passed through the city, and made camp on the Richmond &
Petersburg turnpike. The following day we registered at Petersburg,
camping just outside of the city limits, and remaining there until the
14th. Next morning (15th) we boarded the cars for North Carolina, and
reached the city of Goldsboro on the evening cf the 16th--being our
first visit to the State since our summary expulsion from Newberne by
Burnside.
The 19th found us on the outskirts of the straggling little village of
Kenansville; thence onward, we marched through a sparsely-settled
country to South Washington, where we remained until the 1st of
February. From South Washington, we moved about 7 miles eastward to
the scattered town of Burgaw, where we remained until the 20th.
It was here at Burgaw that our foot-sore and weary boys found realized
those blissful dreams which sometimes hover over the hard couch of a
soldier and lure him into the fable land of unknown joys from which he
hears
"The horns of Elfland faintly blowing."
It was here that we found the sweet potato, the perfectly cultured
sweet potato, as it only grows and ripens in that portion of eastern
North Carolina. Imagine, if you can, the solid comfort--after the many
hardships and adventures of the bustling year of 1862--it would afford
a native Carolina "Cornfed," to be able to sit down under his own
pines
"An' hear among their furry boughs
The baskin' West wind purr contented,"
and occupy his leisure moments in roasting a genuine yam. There were
no armed blue-coats here, like little Miss Muffet's spider, to
frighten us away. We were in a land untouched as yet by the foot of
war; no war-dog had bayed here--it was still the domain of ancient
peace; and the little villages slept in the hollows of the pine-clad
hills, or perched in security upon the uplands. It was also at that
delightful season of the year when the women and children were no
longer vexed with the cares of agricultural pursuits. The sweet potato
crop had been dug, the virgin dip had been scooped out of the last
box, and nothing now remained but to enjoy in peace the products of
honest industry.
On the night of the 20th we left these plaintive pines, marched to
Wilmington, and were soon aboard of the cars destined for Charleston,
S.C. About mid-day of the 22d--after slight detentions at Marion
Court-House and Florence--we arrived at the depot in Charleston.
While here awaiting orders--the men remaining upon the open flat
cars--several impudent and inquisitive idlers, necessary adjuncts
to every depot, gathered around us. Among them happened to be a
well-dressed, dapper fellow, in his home-guard-suit-of-gray and
snow-white "b'iled" shirt. Being of an inquisitive nature, and seeking
information, he had the rashness to address Jim Pearce, and inquire of
him: "_Whose command? Where are you stationed, sir?_" Jim, who was
sitting on the edge of the car, idly dangling his feet, seemed to "take
him in" at once, and rising to the dignity of a full-fledged veteran,
replied (very feelingly): "_Stationed! Stationed, sir! Stationed, the
H--l-fire!_ We have chased and been chased by the Yankees from beyond
the shores of Maryland to this city, and we are _still_ on the wing!"
As the cars moved off, Jim gave him a quizzical lookout of his left
eye, smiled, and faintly whispered "stationed?"
It is a peculiar trait of the faculty of memory that it is very prone
to gather up the "unconsidered trifles of life," and to let slip many
of its apparently more important events. But my reader must remember
that war is not all tragedy,--that there are smiles as well as tears
in the drama.
The evening of the 23d found us at Pocataligo, a small railway station
on the Charleston & Savannah Railroad. Remaining here a few days, we
next located at Coosawhatchie, another depot, eight miles away, and
about sixty miles from Charleston. Having an ample supply of tents, we
laid out a regular camp; with no battle to fight, and very light
picket duty to perform, we passed a quiet and pleasant time, until the
23d of April. The country around Coosawhatchie is low and marshy; the
lakes and streams abound with alligators; the forests of live-oak,
shrouded and festooned with a gray moss, present a weird and
picturesque appearance; the products are rice, pinders, and grits; the
pasturage is confined to a few lean, lank cattle, called by the
natives "high-walk." We relied upon the markets of Charleston and
Savannah for our commissary stores, and the morning train rarely
failed to bring us fresh shad. Our provident surgeon had a good supply
of wet groceries, which sustained our _sick_, and our stay in South
Carolina wore pleasantly, having no special fighting to do.
While in camp at Coosawhatchie, the writer and a comrade (Maj. Webb)
mounted our horses one bright Sunday morning to enjoy the charming
beauty of the day, and the invigorating influences of the sea air.
After riding for about two hours over the level country with its
monotonous aspect, we came suddenly and unexpectedly upon one of those
charming country seats, which were once the pride and delight of the
landed proprietor. The mansion, situated upon a gentle elevation, was
of old-time construction with the wide hall, large rooms and broad
staircases, and colonade of immense pillars supporting the roof of the
front porch. It was embowered in thick clusters of live oaks which
stood round in a kind of outer park, while the inner park was composed
of terraces covered with flowers and shrubbery, while thickets of rose
gardens seemed to stretch in every direction. An aged negro was the
only living being about the place. He told us that the place was
called "Roseland;" that old massa was dead; that the two boys were in
the army, and that Miss Minnie was at school in Raleigh, N.C.
"A merry place, 'tis said, in days of yore:
But something ails it now."--
Vandal hands had done their accustomed work. The beautiful grounds
were sadly disfigured; the shrubbery was broken down; the crops and
forage had been gathered by alien hands, and only the poor ghost
remained of this once peaceful and happy home.
During our encampment in South Carolina, we were notified of the death
of private R. G. Boling, at hospital in Richmond. Jas. H. Gant died on
the 18th of February; about the same time, Isaac F. Lane died at
Leesburg, N.C.; his remains were carried to Guilford. On the 1st of
March, James M. Lemons died at his home. On the 14th of April, Jas. S.
Hall died in hospital at Hardyville, S.C., and was buried in the
cemetery at Charleston.
Private Sam Smith, unfit for active service, substituted Jas. E.
Lloyd, and private Jas. R. Wiley was discharged upon surgeon's
certificate on the 7th of February.
On the 27th of March, corporal R. D. Weatherly was promoted to
sergeant-major of the regiment, and private William C. Story was
appointed corporal in his stead.
On the 23d of April, we received orders to return to North Carolina.
We left Coosawhatchie the same day, arrived at Charleston, S.C., the
following day, and on the 25th reached Wilmington, N.C. We remained
in camp near Wilmington until the 5th of May, when we moved to
Magnolia. Remaining here a few days, we were moved to Goldsboro; from
here we were ordered to our old tramping-grounds near Kinston, where
we arrived on the 16th. Meanwhile, a detachment of the enemy from
Newberne, on a raiding expedition, had encountered General Ransom's
brigade near Gum Swamp. General Ransom undertook to drive them within
their lines, and made a feint upon Newberne. We formed a portion of
the troops engaged in this expedition, and succeeded in driving the
enemy within their lines, and destroying the block-houses they had
made for their defence. We gained nothing by this tramping, except a
few cases of malarial fever, occasioned by our swamp-wading. With the
exception of an occasional skirmish with the enemy's cavalry on
Batchelor's Creek, there is nothing worthy of mention during our
encampment in the vicinity of Kinston. We remained here until the 5th
of June, when once more we received orders to proceed to Virginia.