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_Fraternally Yours,
Henry B. James._]
MEMORIES OF
THE CIVIL WAR.
BY
HENRY B. JAMES.
Co. B, 32nd Mass. Volunteers.
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“To you my comrades whether far or near,
I send this message, let our past revive;
Come, sound reveille to our hearts once more.”
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NEW BEDFORD, MASS.
FRANKLIN E. JAMES.
1898
To my Boys,
_Who delighted in their childhood
to hear their father tell stories of
the war, and at whose desire these
memories have been recalled, this
book is
--DEDICATED._--
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE.
I ENLISTMENT 1
II TO THE SEAT OF WAR 6
III ON THE MARCH 10
IV ANTIETAM 14
V UNDER ARREST 17
VI IN CAMP 21
VII FREDERICKSBURG 25
VIII CHANCELLORSVILLE 29
IX BRANDY STATION & ALDIE 33
X GETTYSBURG 38
XI MINE RUN 44
XII A LETTER FROM THE FRONT 48
XIII RE-ENLISTED 52
XIV AT HOME AGAIN 55
XV IN THE WILDERNESS 59
XVI LAUREL HILL 63
XVII WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN 69
XVIII LEAVES FROM MY DIARY 73
XIX COLD HARBOR 79
XX NORFOLK RAILROAD 85
XXI EXTRACTS FROM MY DIARY 88
XXII PETERSBURG 92
XXIII PEEBLE’S FARM 97
XXIV WELDON RAILROAD 101
XXV HATCHER’S RUN 106
XXVI ON FURLOUGH 112
XXVII WOUNDED 117
XXVIII CLOSING SCENES 123
XXIX MUSTERED OUT 128
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PREFACE
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I have written this account of my experience in the service of my
country from memory, aided by old diaries, letters, etc., and have
endeavored to be as accurate as possible, in regard to dates and events
of historical importance, but if mistakes occur, it cannot be wondered
at, after such a lapse of time. Some of my diaries were lost upon the
battlefield, and of those that remain, many of the entries were in
pencil and are almost effaced.
I had no intention when I began writing of making a long story, but
as I went on, memory brought back many a stirring scene, many a weary
march, many a tender thought of comrades who shared them all with me,
and so I have written them down as they came to me.
My thanks are due my wife for so carefully editing, and my son for
printing my attempt to keep in a permanent form, my recollections of
the War of the Rebellion.
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CHAPTER I.
ENLISTMENT.
To Arms! To Arms! Our country calls for aid,
Of faithful sons an offering must be made.
From every hamlet in the loyal North,
Her sturdy yeomen in their strength go forth;
Mechanics, merchants, all professions too,
Give up the arts of peace, another to pursue.
_Edwin Emery._
I have often been asked to narrate my experience in the War of the
Rebellion, and have as often refused, but now after the lapse of thirty
three years since the close of that fearful struggle between brother
men, I feel that perhaps it would be well, for the satisfaction of
those who so earnestly desire it, to “Fight my battles over again.”
Mine was not an exceptional experience, only that of many a boy of ’61,
but it may partly answer the question so often asked: “What did the
privates do?”
I have often wondered how it happened that I, born of quaker stock on
my mother’s side (she was descended from the Kemptons, who were among
the first settlers of our quaker city of New Bedford,) should have had
such a natural leaning towards scenes of adventure and conflict. It may
well have been that I inherited it from the paternal side of the house,
for my father’s father, John James, was taken prisoner on board his
ship during the War of 1812, and thrown into an English prison, and I
have often, during my childhood, listened to his tales of warfare and
bloodshed, and longed to be a man that I might fight and avenge the
wrongs inflicted on my devoted country in its earlier days; and how
I wished, as I read of the War of the Revolution, that I might have
lived in those stirring days, and done my part in creating the American
Nation.
Certainly it did not seem possible that occasion would ever arise when
I should be one of the defenders of that great nation.
The attack on Fort Sumter, the shot that so stirred the loyal hearts
of the men of the North, awakened in me an ardent desire to enlist
and help avenge the insult to our country’s flag, but my father was so
opposed to the idea that I reluctantly yielded to his authority until
a few months later, during a visit to my brother in Woburn, Mass., I
enlisted November 2nd 1861, just past my twentieth birthday, in Co.
B, 1st Battalion, afterwards the 32nd Mass. Infantry. The company was
raised by George L. Prescott, of Concord, Mass.
We were mustered into the United States service on November 27th, and
on December 3rd were sent to Fort Warren, Boston harbor, to guard
prisoners of war, among them being the confederate generals Buckner
and Tilghman, Commodore Barron, Colonel Pegram, the confederate
commissioners Mason and Slidell, the mayor and chief of police of
Baltimore, and many others.
I remember an incident that may be of interest to which I was an
eye-witness: General Buckner was walking on the parapet, under guard,
when a foreign man of war was being saluted in accordance with military
usage; a large 32 lb. gun was belching forth half minute salutes; as he
drew near it, wrapped in deep thought, not seeming to notice what was
taking place the order came to fire just as he was abreast of the gun;
he realized his danger and jumped forward just in time, for the next
instant the gun was discharged, and the prisoner must have felt that it
was indeed a narrow escape.
Many other interesting incidents connected with these celebrated
prisoners occur to me, but they would make my story too long.
We were drilled in the art of war during all that winter, and under the
strictest military discipline, the commander of the fort being that
brave old martinet of the regular army, Colonel Justin E. Dimmock. My
brother George also enlisted in the same company as myself and was with
me at Fort Warren, but the hardships and exposures of that long cold
winter and an attack of typhoid fever undermined his health to such an
extent that he was discharged a short time before we left Fort Warren
for the seat of war in the following May.
The hard and laborious life of the army seemed to agree with me, and
from the day of my enlistment until the time I was wounded, more than
three years later, my health was perfect, which was something to be
thankful for, in the army.
I did not regret leaving my brother behind me for I felt that one son
was enough for my father to spare for his country’s service; besides
my brother had a wife and child, while I was young, with no mother to
mourn for me, should I fall, and I felt that I could be spared better
than those who had home ties, and that I could face hardships and
dangers better than those who had families depending upon them. In
short it seemed my duty and pleasure to go to the war.
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