"I have only time to write you a note to let you know we are safe in
Springfield, without a fight or loss of life. When we reached Warsaw we
received our orders from General Pope to come to Springfield by forced
marches with all possible rapidity, as the enemy were advancing upon us
in force. So for four days we marched twenty miles every day, which was
something unusual for any army, but our men stood it very well, and are
now much better for the exercise.
"When we arrived here we learned that Price was seventy miles away
from us and that there never was any danger. Officers speak very
disparagingly of Frémont. The indications are that we will march back
again in a few days. 'Up the hill and down again.'"
Sometime before the next letter was written from Warsaw, November 14,
on the march "down the hill," we had heard of the removal of General
Frémont:--
"Our Missouri campaign has been a very barren affair. It may suit a
fellow who likes long walks and heavy marching, but there has not been
much of war in it. The only time there was to my mind any prospect of
a fight was at Georgetown. If Price had ever intended to fight, it was
his best chance. We have been chasing him all through the southern
part of the State on long and forced marches, wearing out our troops,
and spending immense sums of money, and Price keeping fifty miles away
from us all the time, and he is now clear over into Arkansas. The
Springfield campaign is over at least, and Frémont's reputation and our
soldiers' feet have been the sufferers. However popular Frémont may be
his military glory is ended.
"Our Colonel Veatch I regard as a man of unusual good judgment and has
been an ardent friend of Frémont, and yet says his removal was just
and needed, and such is almost the unanimous opinion of officers here.
Tell father if he has not become reconciled to the removal, a personal
knowledge of matters at St. Louis and here would satisfy him."
My youngest brother, Willie, was eight years old at this time, and I
make frequent references to him in my letters. From Syracuse I wrote
November 18:--
"We arrived here yesterday from our march of two hundred and fifty
miles. We left Otterville on October 29 and arrived here yesterday the
17th, having had only one day of rest during the whole journey. If I
had time I would write Willie a letter (but you can tell him) of our
march, what a long line our division made, troops and trains of near
three miles, what a time the poor soldiers had with sore feet, how we
sat around big blazing camp-fires, how we got up before daylight and
ate our breakfast on a log, and were marching before the sun was up,
and give him a list of all the towns we passed through so he can find
them on the map I sent him. About these I can give him the details when
I come home. But this is only the least exciting of the soldier's life
stories. We can't come home till I can tell him something about our
experience on the battlefield, which we have not yet had."
A week later I write still from the same place, expressing great
impatience that we are kept in Missouri, and the desire on the part
of myself and the men to be ordered into Kentucky, but I add: "I am
beginning to understand that the army is one vast machine, and the mass
of us need not trouble ourselves about our future, as our generals
will determine that. We have only to do our duty and execute their
commands." But I caution my wife if we are ordered to Kentucky: "You
must not flatter yourself that, if I get nearer home, I will have a
much better opportunity of paying a visit to the dear ones there."
Then I entered upon a topic which seemed to be a familiar one in my
letters, about home:--
"The commanding officers at St. Louis will be very particular about
absence, and when we get into the active field again it will be
worse. And it must be so, if the army is to be kept in any state of
efficiency. How much I would love to come home. No one ever more highly
prized the blessings and comforts of a happy home than I,--a dear,
loving, and noble wife, a sweet, darling little daughter, and so many
kind kindred and friends,--but it must be otherwise. I am called to the
place of duty, away from all these. I would be a craven, a disloyal
citizen, if I did not do what I am doing in this time of peril to our
country. And I rejoice that I have a wife, with a heart so noble, so
patriotic and so brave, as to share this feeling with me, and who
submits to her situation without a murmur. This pleasant home which you
and I both long to enjoy together would be worthless and ruined, if
our once prosperous Government falls to pieces. It is far better that
we endure this separation and that our country suffer this terrible
war for a time now, than that we permit the whole nation to fall to
pieces, and for years and years after to see nothing but civil war and
continued bloodshed between little factious States. We hope and pray
that God will speedily restore the country to its wonted peace, so that
we may all return to our families and friends."
A little later, in acknowledging receipt of one of my wife's letters,
I say: "I am glad you are reading Washington's letters. You will find
he was a good husband and loved his home, but he _went to war for seven
years_!"
While waiting in suspense at Syracuse, I tell of another
court-martial:--
"I was all day yesterday engaged in a court-martial and until late last
night. A lieutenant in the Eighteenth Indiana was arraigned by his
captain for attacking and slandering him in a newspaper in Indiana,
and the lieutenant came to get me to defend him. I tried to beg out
of it, but he insisted so strongly that I had to undertake it. The
court was presided over by the general commanding, and was composed
of the colonels and other field officers of the division, and I was
somewhat abashed in appearing before it, the practice of the court
being altogether different from our civil law courts, and I being
unacquainted with it; but I thought I might as well learn now as at any
other time. I think I got through with it pretty well. If I keep the
lieutenant from being cashiered it will be fortunate for him."
The coming on of winter made the generals, as well as the men, think of
winter quarters. In a letter dated November 24, referring to another
of the reports about a threatened attack on us by Price and the
probability of marching again, I write:--
"In the meantime we are shivering around our camp-fires in this winter
weather, and stuffing our tents full of straw, blankets, and buffalo
robes to keep warm. Last night I managed to sleep comfortably. I made
my bed right down on the ground. It is warmer than to have my cot up on
its legs. These Missouri prairie winds are such winds as Hoosiers don't
know anything about.
"You ought to see some of the expedients we resort to for comfortable
camp-fires. At headquarters of the regiment we have a big roaring log
fire built, and have small logs propped up on the forks of saplings
for seats or benches, and then we barricade ourselves from the wind _a
little_ by tents and stretching wagon covers around the saplings....
But at the best this winter campaigning is not comfortable for officers
or men."
Notwithstanding the cold weather, I note in my letter of December 3,
that we are keeping up the drills:--
"Yesterday and to-day we have been kept quite busy, General Pope
having issued a strict order in reference to regimental and brigade
drills. We are out both morning and afternoon with the regiment,
notwithstanding that the ground has been covered with snow and it is
very cold. It comes a little hard on us, cold fingers and cold feet,
but it is all the better for both officers and men. As for myself I am
in much the best health when I am kept busy, and on the march or move.
This afternoon we had a review of the whole brigade, preparatory to an
anticipated grand review by General Halleck, Department Commander, in
a few days."
It finally seemed settled that the army was to remain in this part
of Missouri, and we were to go into winter quarters. So our brigade
marched down to Lamine River December 7, preparatory to a permanent
encampment. I report:--
"We will have a large city of log huts, probably 15,000 or 20,000
troops. We are commencing operations to-day by clearing off our camp,
preparatory to building our log huts. I shall be in command of the
working forces of our regiment and shall soon know how to build a log
house in the most approved style. So you see I am having a varied
experience in my army life."
I seemed to be quite possessed with the project of building our
huts and getting into winter quarters, as I was planning to extend
hospitality to dear friends. I write my wife:--
"How would you and little Alice like to come out and live with me in
a log hut for a while this winter? If the little darling will learn
to say 'papa' right sweet and right plain, maybe I will have her come
out and see and talk with her 'papa.' That will depend on how long we
will stay here, and how well I shall be fixed up. But you must not be
certain of it, for a soldier's life is a very uncertain one."
And sure enough all our plans and anticipations came to an end, as a
letter from Sedalia, December 21, relates:--
"After more than a week's silence I have only time to drop you a note.
The newspapers will doubtless tell you of our last expedition. We went
out in a hurry and came back in a hurry. We just missed by three hours'
march a rebel supply train with a guard of three thousand: but we
succeeded in capturing an entire regiment, with a full complement of
officers, and Colonel Magoffin, a notorious secessionist, and a lot of
other prisoners, making altogether about one thousand.
"There was no fight of any consequence. The cavalry surrounded them and
they surrendered after a short skirmish. The Twenty-fifth was in the
advance of the infantry and would have been in the fight, if needed.
The only one of our regiment killed was Sergeant Ray, of Company G, who
was acting as a mounted scout. Our regiment was assigned as a guard to
the prisoners, and will have the post of honor in conducting them to
St. Louis. We will leave by train in the morning. I am very tired with
guard duty and marching for two days and nights, and must be up early
in the morning."
This march proved the last of our campaigning in Missouri. Not a
glorious record, but a lot of experience and useful training as
soldiers. The regiment was assigned to quarters at Benton Barracks. I
write:--
"It is uncertain how long we shall stay here or what they will do with
us. We may be all winter or possibly only two or three weeks. They
have given the field officers of our regiment a little house just
outside the Barracks, four rooms, a kitchen, cellar, and attic for the
servants, and a stable. If we can arrange things to suit us and it is
agreeable to the other officers, I expect Colonel Veatch and I will be
sending for our wives. What think you of it?"
A few days later I received her reply on which I made the following
comments:--
"You never wrote a more noble letter. I have read it over and over
again. You could have written in a way which might have been more
likely to have brought you over to visit me, but you could not have in
a way more surely to make me love and admire you. I know how much you
love to be with me and how much I would enjoy your presence. I have
been thinking, ever since we came back to St. Louis [seven hours by
rail from Evansville], about the propriety of having you come over to
spend a few days or weeks with me, and had hardly decided what to do
about it.
"While in many respects it would be pleasant, in others it would not
be. If you took up quarters with me, it would be in a very comfortable
room for a soldier, but not very comfortable or attractive for a
lady--no furniture except stools, plank tables, and bunks with straw
to sleep on, and soldiers' blankets and buffalo robes for covering.
And then it would be in a house filled with officers,--gentlemen, it
is true, but _not at all times_ pleasant companions for a lady. If
you went with me to a hotel, I would have to neglect my duties, which
neither you nor I would desire me to do. And even in my own quarters
I could not pay that attention to you which I would desire without
some, at least apparent, neglect of duty. There are quite a number
of officers' wives here, and I know that they do not in any degree
promote the efficiency of the service. When I decided it to be my duty
to go into the army I anticipated I would have to give up my dear home
comforts and enjoyment, and when you gave your consent to my going you
so regarded it, and though we may both lament the necessity, we should
not complain. I believe under the circumstances you will agree with me
that for the present it is best that you should not come over,--will
you not?"
When we returned to Benton Barracks we found that gallant soldier
General W. T. Sherman in command. I had only a formal acquaintance with
him then, but years after we were near neighbors in Washington and
became intimate friends. When at the Barracks he was under a cloud of
ridicule, and was known throughout the country as "Crazy Sherman." This
appellative was given him because, a few weeks before, while in command
at Louisville, he had told Mr. Cameron, Secretary of War, he would
require two hundred thousand soldiers to rid the State of Kentucky of
rebel troops. The sequel proved that more than that number had to be
sent into that State before it was free of Confederate troops. Sherman
was at that period one of the few _sane_ men who realized so early
the magnitude of the task before us. His "Memoirs," published years
after the war, show that at the time he was much distressed at the
appellative.
Our stay at Benton Barracks was prolonged for nearly six weeks, and was
the usual experience of such soldier life. In a letter of January 14,
1862, I write:--
"It is now between eleven and twelve o'clock at night, and I am writing
you while you are sleeping with our little darling near you,--if she
hasn't waked you up! You may wonder why I am writing you at this late
hour. Well, I'm 'officer of the day' for the Barracks, and a part
of my duty is to make 'the grand rounds' of the guards at least once
_after twelve o'clock at night_. Rather than get a half sleep and be
waked up, I prefer to sit up and write my wife till the time comes.
"We were very agreeably surprised this morning to have _Captain_
Willie [my brother] step in on us, as we were not looking for him. I
am very glad he came. We will try to make it a pleasant visit to him,
and he will be much company for us. As I am 'officer of the day,' I
took him around with me as my 'orderly'! When I visited the different
guard-houses and sentinel-posts, he was very much interested in seeing
the guards 'turn out' and the other military civilities. It has been
very cold to-day, but both the infantry and cavalry were out for the
afternoon drills of battalions and brigades. Willie stood out in the
cold wind to see the maneuvers as long as he could.
"We have had a very pleasant evening at our quarters to-night. At dress
parade Colonel Morgan invited all the officers over to take supper with
us. They came, about thirty of them, about seven o'clock, and at eight
we had supper. We had oysters fried, oysters stewed, oysters raw, and
oyster patties, with their accompaniments, followed by meats, pickled
pig's-feet and salad, and topped off with pound cake and champagne
wine. You would hardly approve of the wine part, but we could scarcely
do less at a soldiers' supper. Very few would have stopped at that.
Then those who smoked devoted themselves to a plentiful supply of
cigars.
"In our regimental brass band there is a fine string band. I wish you
could hear it, as I know with your love of music you would enjoy it
very much. It gave us music all the evening. The officers got up a
'stag dance' and enjoyed it greatly. Then we had some first-rate songs,
and wound up the evening by the officers presenting Dr. Walker [our
regimental surgeon], in an _appropriate_(!) _speech by the major_, a
beautiful medical staff sword, belt, gold tassel, and green silk sash,
in token of a most faithful discharge of his onerous duties."
About this time I reply to a letter from my wife, regarding some
domestic matters, as follows:--
"I was somewhat affected and a little amused at the account you give of
your household and financial troubles. You must not let a little gas
bill of fourteen dollars worry your life out of you. It is possible it
was a little exorbitant, but none to hurt. I don't want you to worry
yourself about these business matters. Where there are any troubles you
will find your mother and father safe and willing advisers. I know that
you are careful and prudent in your family expenses. I never thought
you spent a cent unnecessarily. I don't want you to be thinking you are
spending too much money; I just want you to get all you want to eat or
wear.
"When I left home I got you a good house to live in, and I want you to
live in it in proper style and comfort. If I was at home you know I
would have broiled quails, stewed rabbits, roast turkeys, venison, all
varieties of oysters, and all kinds of good things for the table, and
there is no reason why 'a lone, lorn' wife should starve just because
her husband has gone off to the war. If I was at home I would have two
or three gas burners going to your one, if I wanted the light; and
there is no reason why my wife should grope around in the dark for fear
of a gas bill at the end of the month. I know you are not extravagant
and therefore there is no danger of useless expenditure, and no
occasion for troubling yourself on that account. I have no fear but
that you will save all the money you can conveniently with your family
wants. I am drawing pretty good pay, and therefore can afford to keep
my family in good circumstances."
Frequent reference in my letters is made to the way in which the
Sabbath is spent in camp. In one of my letters I express the hope that
"I will not lose or forget my Christian standing. I want to come home
as good a Christian at least as when I left, though the temptations to
evil and bad habits are very great."