The Journey South
The march through Hudson--The stop in New York--Breakfast at "The
Cooper Shop"--Arrival at Baltimore--When we first heard the "Long
Roll."
_Six p. m._ On board the steamship Oregon, bound for New York City. We
had a busy time getting off. Crowds upon crowds of people lined the way
from the camp ground to the steamboat landing. The windows and the house
tops were also full. I don't see where so many people came from. Men,
women and children were waving flags, handkerchiefs or anything else
that would wave. They cheered us until hoarse. Bands played, every steam
whistle in Hudson was blowing, in fact every thing that could make a
noise did so. Through it all we marched, reaching out every little while
for a final handshake, and a last good-bye. Everyone seemed to know
everybody else. I presume I shook hands with a hundred that I never saw
before and may never see again. But the heartiness of it all, and the
sincerity showed so plainly, that by the time the landing was reached
the tears were washing the dust from our faces. I am glad it is over. No
matter what comes next, it cannot be more trying than that march through
Hudson.
_Later._ The sail down the Hudson is glorious. It is all new to me. As
soon as we were clear from the dock I got into the quietest place I
could find and told my diary about it. I wish I could better describe
the doings about me. This will do to remind me of it all, if I ever see
these scribblings again, and if not those that do see them may turn
their imagination loose, feeling sure that it cannot overdraw the
picture. But there is no use trying to write any more. Confusion
reigns, and I am going to put away my diary and take a hand in it.
_September 6, 1862._
NEW YORK CITY, and my first peep at it. We are in City Hall Park, but I
must go back and tell of our getting here. We had an all night's ride,
passing many large places. So many knew the names of them, we greenhorns
only had to listen to find out where we were all the time. Some did not
want to sleep, and the rest were not allowed to. The boatmen must be
glad to see the last of us. We passed laws for their observance as well
as for our own. The officers kept out of sight. I suppose they were
asleep somewhere. May be it is well for both them and ourselves that
they did not interfere, for the devil in each man seemed to have got
loose. We didn't try to run the steamer but we ran everything else in
sight. We took turns riding the walking beam. Some wanted to and the
rest had to, and the wonder is no one was killed, or at least crippled.
We landed at the foot of Harrison Street, and marched to the City Hall
Park, where I am now seated on the front porch of a tremendous great
building, writing about it in my diary. Everything is clean here, and
everything to me is new. I have never been in New York before, and I
don't suppose I shall see very much of it now. I am on business for the
boss, and cannot fool away the time running around the city, even if I
was allowed to, which I am not. The officers have us shut in here, with
a high picket fence, made of iron, around us on every side.
Soldiers,--real soldiers,--are on guard just outside, keeping a close
watch that none of us crawl under or jump over. We first had a good
wash, then a good breakfast, and then were let alone to read the papers,
or write letters or do anything we chose. I had a good nap. The stone I
lay on was but little harder than my bunk in the barracks at Hudson, and
it was a great deal warmer. The papers say the Rebs are expected to
attack Harpers Ferry to-day. Why couldn't they wait until we got there?
Maybe they have heard of us and are improving the time before we get
there. Captain Bostwick has gone home for a visit, saying he would meet
us in Washington.
_Night._ On the cars in Jersey City. Part of the regiment has gone on
another train, and we are to meet in Philadelphia. We marched on the
ferry-boat in double file, and were made to kneel on one knee, leaving
the other sticking up for the man ahead to sit on. If it was done for
our comfort it was a complete failure, but if it was to keep us from
running all over the boat it worked well. Before we left City Hall Park
I got a fellow on the outside to get me a bottle of blackberry brandy,
and when we were finally seated in the car I out with my bottle and gave
it a swing around my head to let the fellows see what I had, when it
slipped from my hand and went to smash on the floor. Much as some of us
needed it, we could only get a smell, as the fumes rose up to aggravate
us.
At Elizabeth, N. J., we halted for a few minutes. Crowds of people lined
the track, and although all were strangers to each other, we talked as
if we were old acquaintances. Henry House, of Company B, asked a young
lady to write him, and they exchanged names and addresses, promising
each to write to the other.[2]
_September 7, 1862._
PHILADELPHIA. _Sunday._ We were too crowded in the cars to see much, or
to do much, coming here. Most of us slept nearly all the way. I did for
one, but I had dreams of being trod on, and no doubt I was, for there
are some that never sleep, and are constantly on the move. We finally
stopped and were ferried across a river and landed in this city. We
then marched to a large hall called "The Cooper Shop," why, I don't
know. We were given a royal meal, breakfast I should call it, but it was
so dark, and I was so sleepy I hardly knew whether it was supper or
breakfast. Cold beef, sausage, bread and butter, cheese, and good hot
coffee. It was far ahead of any meal we have had so far. I am told that
the place is kept open night and day by some benevolent association, and
that no regiment passes through without getting a good square meal. If
soldiering is all like this I am glad I am a soldier. If the Rebs ever
get as far North as Philadelphia, I hope the 128th New York may be here
to help defend the "Cooper Shop." After breakfast we went out on the
sidewalk and slept until after daylight. We soon after started for a
railroad station, where we took a train for Baltimore. Our ride so far
has been one grand picnic. We have lots of fun. No matter what our
condition may be, there are some that see only the funny side, and we
have enough of that sort to keep up the spirits of all. All along the
way the people were out, and the most of them gave us cheers, but not
all, as was the case in Hudson. We are nearing the enemy's country. The
change in sentiment begins to show, and the farther we go, I suppose,
the less cheering we will hear, until finally we will get where the
cheers will all be for the other fellow, and we will find ourselves
among foes instead of friends.
_Later._ We are stuck on an up-grade. The engine has gone ahead with a
part of the train, and we are waiting for it to come back. The train men
say we are about forty miles from Baltimore. That means forty miles from
our fodder, and I for one am hungry now. That meal at the Cooper Shop
was good, but not lasting enough for this trip. The boys are out on the
ground having some fun and I am going to join them.
BALTIMORE, MD. We are here at last. Marched about two miles from where
the cars stopped, and are sitting on the sidewalk waiting to see what
will happen next. I hope it will be something to eat, for I am about
famished. Some of the men are about played-out. The excitement and the
new life are getting in their work. The day has been very hot, too, and
with nothing to eat since some time last night, it is not strange we
begin to wonder where the next meal is coming from, and when it will
come. Baltimore is not like New York. I know that much now, but I don't
know enough about either city to tell what the difference is. A
regiment, fully armed, escorted us here from the cars, and are either
staying around to keep us from eating up the city, or to keep the city
from eating us, I don't know which. Some act friendly, but the most of
the people look as if they had no use for us. _Later._--We have finally
had something to eat. My folks always taught me never to find fault with
the victuals set before me, so I won't begin now. But for that I should
say something right now. But whatever it was it had a bracing effect and
we soon started and marched through the city to high ground, which I am
told is "Stewart's Hill."
_September 8, 1862._
_Monday morning._ Our first night in Baltimore is over. We had
roll call, to see if we were all here, and then spread our blankets on
the ground and were soon sound asleep. Walt Loucks and I each having a
blanket, we spread one on the ground and the other over us. With our
knapsacks for a pillow, we slept as sound as if in the softest bed. The
dew, however, was heavy, and only for the blanket over us we would have
been wet through. As it was, our hair was as wet as if we had been
swimming. Sleeping on the ground, in clothing already wet with sweat,
and the night being quite cool, has stiffened our joints, so we move
about like foundered horses. Had the Rebs come upon us when we first got
up we couldn't have run away and we certainly were not in a condition to
defend ourselves. But this wore off after a little, and we were
ourselves again. As it was in Hudson, so it is here. All sorts of
rumors as to what we do next are going the rounds. I have given up
believing anything, and shall wait until we do something or go
somewhere, and then, diary, I'll tell you all about it.
_Night._ We put in the day sitting around and swapping yarns, etc. None
of us cared to go about, for we were pretty tired, after our hard day
yesterday. Shelter tents were given out to-day. One tent for every two
men. They are not tents at all, nothing but a strip of muslin, with
three sticks to hold them up. There are four pins to pin the corners to
the ground. Then one stick is put in like a ridge pole, and the other
two set under it. The ends are pinned down as far apart as a man is
long, and then the middle raised up. They may keep off rain, if it falls
straight down, but both ends are open, and two men fill it full. We have
got them up, each company in a row. It is a funny sight to stand on the
high ground and look over them. Lengthwise, it is like a long strip of
muslin with what a dressmaker calls gathers in it. Looked at from the
side it is like a row of capital A's with the cross up and down instead
of crosswise.
_September 9, 1862._
_Tuesday._ About midnight, an officer of some sort rode into camp with
some word that was the means of our being routed out by the "Long Roll,"
the first time any of us ever heard it. It appears the "Long Roll" is
only sounded when the quickest possible getting into line in fighting
trim is necessary, as when the enemy is about to pounce upon us, etc.
But we didn't hurry. One after another got up and all the time the
officers were shouting, and some of them swearing. I thought they had
all gone crazy. But finally we understood, and then down came our tents.
The quartermaster team rushed up with boxes of guns, which were broken
open and the guns handed out as fast as possible. Ammunition, too, was
passed out, and we were told to load up and defend ourselves. The
excitement was so great, and the ammunition so new to us, about half
the guns were loaded with the bullet end down. The cartridges are a
charge of powder, a big long bullet and a piece of paper. The paper is
rolled up with the powder in one end and the bullet in the other, and to
us, in the dark, both ends looked alike. But no great harm was done, for
no enemy appeared. Just what it was all for I don't know now, and quite
likely never will. We got a ration of bread and coffee and with our
guns--great heavy, clumsy things--and our tents added to our already
heavy load, started off on a brisk pace, which was kept up until some
began to fall out, completely exhausted. These were picked up by the
quartermaster and commissary wagons, and so we went for about six miles
along the road that is said to lead to Frederick. Then we halted, and
after the stragglers had caught up, started back again, soon turning off
in another direction on another road, and marched for about the same
distance, where we turned into a field, partly level, and the rest a
side hill. We halted when a little way from the road and were told we
were to go into permanent camp there. Baltimore is in plain sight,
although it is some way off. We were so tuckered out by our long tramp
in the hot sun and with the heavy loads on our backs, we were glad to
get up our tents, and after a coffee and bread supper, to turn in and
sleep.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] They did correspond, and after the war were married, and as far as I
ever knew or heard lived happily ever after.