I prayed in this battle whenever I had opportunity to look towards
Heaven, for grape and canister and bullets of all shapes and sizes
were falling thick and fast about me. We were in close quarters with
the enemy and our ranks were being thinned by reason of the wounded
and dead lying on the battlefield. Although I came out of this battle
pretty well shaken up, excepting for a few scratches, my life was
on the altar for my country and my people, and I was not especially
concerned as to the outcome regarding my own life; but I was determined
to do all that I could to bring our cause to a victorious end. The
Union forces moved back and remained all day about twelve miles from
Richmond.
On the 18th, the Twenty-ninth Regiment, of which I was commissary
sergeant, and the Third Division, moved down the valley, halting in
the open fields for two hours. We were opposite the pontoon bridge
which crossed the Chickahominy, and remained until the bridge was put
in repair. While here I gave out hard tack and pork to the soldiers as
best I could. For myself, I built a little fire and roasted a bit of
pork over the fire, which together with water from the river, formed my
meal. On the 20th we marched for the forts on the right of Point Rock
Hospital, near Petersburg. On the 21st we were almost flanked by the
rebels and retreated to Malvern Hill and repaired the breastworks. Here
we had another skirmish. Some lost their lives and others were wounded,
but we were successful in capturing seventy-five prisoners.
On the 23d we crossed the James River on the pontoon bridge, passing
the heights where the New Jersey Battery was stationed. They greeted
us with shouts and “Hurrah boys! we are here to stay!” Such a round
of cheers you never heard. You would not have thought that they were
on their way to battle, and some to death and the Judgment Throne.
Uncle Freddie Moore and Orderly I. J. Hill were the only preachers we
had with us, excepting the chaplain. They used to say to us, “boys
get ready, for if there ever were a time when you should be ready,
it is now; for you do not know when you may be called to go, you are
continually in death’s jaws.”
We were soon in front of Petersburg, Va., looking upon the doomed
city. We were greeted by a shell from the rebels, or Grey Backs, as we
sometimes called them. It fell near the colonel, who was sitting on his
horse at the right of the brigade. We countermarched and fell back to
the woods, where we remained until 5 o’clock, when orders were received
from the general to fall back to the fort and protect the pontoon
bridge. On our way we met a lot of troopers making their way to the
front, who wanted to know our reason for returning. We told them that
the rebels were after us. It was very amusing to see them falling into
line. Some of them could march faster than we. We reached the fort, but
when we found that the Johnnies were not coming after us, we became
anxious to see them and meet the issue. We found quite a number of our
associates from New Haven and Hartford, Conn., and Woodbury, N. J. We
were all delighted that our lives had been spared to see each other
again in the flesh and chatted freely about our friends at home, our
wives, mothers and children. I had often heard of the horrors of war,
but now I began to experience what it meant, in the joy of meeting
friends whom I never expected to see again on the earth, or at least
some of them. There was a sense in which I had a new understanding of
that marvelous passage of Scripture, regarding death, “Oh death, where
is thy sting; Oh, grave, where is thy victory.” We had not yet felt the
sting of death and we had not experienced the victory of the grave, yet
we had been in the very midst of both.
Once again we marched in front of the horrible pit, Petersburg. Some
of the whites said, see they are taking those colored soldiers to the
slaughter pen. Truly, they had said so, for I never saw such a scene
the first night. Shot and shell were raining fast around us. Henry
Migs, a native of Africa, was killed. He died as a soldier, true to his
adopted country, but a stranger to God. I thought that every bullet was
sent for me and was doing some real praying. We do not know what prayer
is, until we are reduced to our extremity. Then we realize with a new
experience, that our extremity is God’s opportunity. I told the Lord
that He had promised to “Rescue the perishing and care for the dying,”
and that I wanted Him to keep the promise of that song, so far as I was
concerned. Well, praise His name, He did so. Thank God to-day that I am
still living and permitted to write this bit of fearful experience, so
others may know what it is to trust in God.
On the 24th, Private Sam Bertim, of Company E, was killed, having been
shot through the head. Private George Porter was also killed. Colonel
Wooster was taken sick and was carried from the rifle pits to the
rear. The rebels captured one of our officers, while changing those
on picket duty. Two men from the Twenty-ninth were slaughtered, they
were members of Company A. The colored troops did some good fighting in
this engagement. We were told by the enemy that if we were captured our
tongues would be cut out, or we would be starved to death; that there
would be no exchange of prisoners in our case. So this was a rather
fearful inspiration, but it served its purpose, of causing us to fight
to the best of our ability; for we really feared that in case we were
captured that such barbarities might be administered to us.
On the 1st of September we were ordered to strike tents and to move
on, we knew not whither we were going. We did not care either, for
now we were thoroughly enthused with the issues of war. We had tasted
of the dangers of battle, and this taste brought out the desire that
we should fight to the finish. Some of our dear friends had laid down
their lives already, and we reasoned that if it should be necessary for
them to give such a sacrifice, that we were no better than they. So in
our judgment, we were becoming calm, and in our determination, we were
becoming more and more fixed.
With President Lincoln and our great generals and loyal soldiers,
we felt that the issue was assured. Of course we did not forget the
divine side of the question, that God was on His throne and that right
and justice and mercy would at last prevail. While it had always been
said that this was a white man’s country, we were determined that the
black man should share in this honor of ownership. And the best way
that this ownership could be established was through the loyalty of
the black man on the battlefield. For surely it will be conceded that
when a man has bought his adopted country by his blood, it is his own.
While, as a race, the Negro race, this is our adopted land, yet as
individuals, it is our native land, our fatherland.
The colored troops numbered at this time about 75,000. The Twenty-ninth
Regiment, which was my own, formed the center. We were in line of march
toward the city but were turned in our course and crossed the pontoon
bridge, which landed us near the city of Petersburg. When daylight came
we were on the Old Market Road and headed for Richmond, Va. We were
very much exhausted and were hoping for a rest, when we heard the music
of the bugle, which told us that our rest had come.
At this time it was dangerous for live things to get in our way, we
were hungry for something besides hard tack, bad coffee and salt
pork. We wanted fresh meat and plenty of it. So it was a bad time for
chickens and terrapin, for when we could find these living edibles, we
generally appropriated them without any thought of the criminality of
the act or of the danger of being detected or arrested. Our hunger gave
us license to satisfy it in the quickest and best way available.
On the 2d of September we were once again in front of the enemy and
ready to do battle. We entered the engagement with enthusiasm and
rapidly drove the enemy before us. We were assisted by a large Mogul,
which we called the Petersburgh Express and one or two gunboats on
the James River, which fired balls half as big as a common sized
water bucket. Soon victory was perched on our banners and with flying
colors, we advanced by a right flank and entered the rebel lines after
a bad fought battle of six hours, leaving many dead and wounded on the
battlefield. My brother, William Henry Newton, was in the same regiment
with me, not as a soldier but as a valet, he attended Captain Griswold.
We charged two of the rebel forts, the left of the line was charged by
the Eighth United States Troops, supported by the Twenty-ninth; the
center was charged by the Ninth Maryland, supported by the Seventh
United States Troops. In the history of my war record, I shall never
forget this day’s experience. The rebels fought hard and nobly, but the
colored troops defeated them and gained another victory in favor of the
Union army. Our loss was very heavy and the true story of the suffering
and heartaches will never be known until the Judgment Day.
Captain Thorpe and Lieutenant McDonald were wounded. I came on my
rounds, bringing refreshments and stopped where the surgeons were
at work. I shall never forget the fearful sight that met my eyes. It
was indeed sickening. There were arms and legs piled up like hogs’
feet in a butcher shop. The dead and the dying were strewn over the
battlefield for five miles. Drum Major John D. Cowes, of New Haven,
with his corps, were busy carrying the wounded off the battlefield.
I said to myself, war is a terrible way to adjust differences, when
it might be done by the implements of peace. But I remembered that it
is much easier to wield the sword than to use the pen; much easier to
give a command which will send hundreds to their death, than to be a
master of assemblies and speak the word which gives peace and happiness
to millions. We lay all night in front of the rebel works and in the
morning we were warmly saluted by fierce bombarding. So we were again
in the midst of battle which waged hotly. The enemy carried their dead
and wounded out of their trenches as lively as they were able. They
did this so as to keep from tramping on them and to have room for the
soldiers who were doing the work of death. In this engagement several
were wounded but not many killed. Our colonel was not able to do duty
and our lieutenant colonel was sick at Fortress Monroe.
On the morning of the 4th, we advanced to the left of the line,
planting our flag under the rebel fire of grape and canister, bombshell
and musketry. The dead were lying in every direction and the wounded
were falling everywhere, cared for by the rear guard. On the 5th and
6th, we had to endure the hardships and exposure of the rifle pits,
with advance pickets stationed in front of the rebel garrison. It was
the fighting of a duel, so to speak, between two armies, although
quite a distance apart. After while the Twenty-Ninth was ordered to
headquarters, but did not get far on its way, when a fire broke out
in our midst, we were shifted into a double-quick and returned to the
breastworks where we held our position until the 8th, when we moved on
the right to support the Forty-fifth, on Lookout Mountain. We were worn
out and had hoped that we would be allowed to rest; but we received
orders to take position on the front to support the Eighth United
States Cavalry Troops, who had charge of the breastworks. Six days of
hard fighting, fatigue and exposure, was our experience here. Under
orders of the general we scouted and explored the territory and drove
the enemy from the woods. We were able to take charge of the situation,
much to our pride; still holding the rebels at bay and driving them
further, to hunt new quarters.
On the 14th we abandoned the breastworks, General Birney leading the
Third Division, Tenth Army Corps, numbering 75,000 colored troops. We
were not formed into a fighting position at this time, perhaps for the
reason that the enemy were too strong for us. So we were brought to the
rear of the breastworks. For a long while the rain had been pouring in
torrents and there was not a dry place to be found nor a dry thread
on our bodies, we were covered with dirt and mud from head to foot,
and not only felt to be in a terrible plight, but must have looked
worse. The troops were ordered to prepare two days’ rations and to get
ready for light marching. I had opportunity now to be in the company
of commissioned officers for a few hours at a time, when we halted for
rest. We would spread our meals on the wet ground, not a very inviting
table, but the best that we could find. I somehow had the feeling that
something was going on, or was going to happen, that would require one
to be wise and cunning. The officers had a queer expression on their
faces, and in fact all the field officers seemed to be uneasy. Three
o’clock one morning, my surmises were justified, for the long roll was
sounded and soon we were in line for work. We engaged in a bloody
struggle. We moved to the right and some one began to sing,
“Sure, I must fight if I would win,
Increase my courage Lord;
I’ll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy Word.”
We thus cheered ourselves by the singing of songs while we fought and
while we marched through the Virginia mud, such songs as “Tramp, Tramp,
the Boys are Marching,” “Beneath the Starry Flag.” The rebel lines
were fortified, but under our noble leaders, we marched on to certain
victory and the old Twenty-ninth was ready for any fray. The rising sun
would seem to say to us, after he had broken through the darkness and
the clouds, “Cheer up boys, don’t be despondent, but vigilant, strong,
courageous, protecting the flag, the country, women and children,
rights and liberty, and all things will come out right.” Thus it will
be seen, how often God speaks to us through nature, how often we are
cheered and helped by a bright day. How dependent we are upon our
surroundings, for support. I do not say that this should be so, for a
soldier should be strong, regardless of such things, but nevertheless
they have their effect.
We were on the extreme right of the front and within three miles of
Richmond, where our white troops were repulsed. The colored troops
were commanded to halt and line up for action in front of the woods.
Again the thought came to me, although this is called the white man’s
country, they need us in war as in peace, to make and to keep the
country. And why is not this fact fully realized by the white people?
We are more than ten million strong and are ready at any time to
lay down our lives for the nation and to give our lives in service,
in times of peace, in all lines of activity. This we are doing. The
progress which the Negro race has made since the war is an enviable
one. No people or race would be ashamed of it. We have made this
progress as honest, industrious citizens. We have shown our manhood
in both times of war and peace, and our record has been written. Then
why are we not accorded the place that we have rightly merited? In
the sentiment of the white people there lurks a deep-rooted prejudice
against us, and in their course of action discrimination is made
against the Negro. We do not understand why this should be, unless
there is a feeling on the part of the white people, that there is
danger that we should become too prosperous and too many--the feeling
which the ancient Egyptians had against the Hebrews--hence, they took
steps to check the Hebrews. These may be the steps taken by the white
man to check our progress. But the same God who overruled the destinies
of the Hebrew slaves and brought them to their Promised Land, will take
care of us and, we too, one day, shall enter our Promised Land, of
equal rights and liberty.
On the 29th, there as a fierce encounter. The battle was indeed a
slaughter pen. The enemy fought like tigers. The battle became general
along the entire line. Adjutant Spaulding was wounded. Corporal George
Burr, Company L; Corporal Sidney, of Company E, and many others were
killed. Private George E. Peters, Sergeant George Halstead, James Evans
and many others were wounded. I, myself, feared, shook, and thought
that my time had come. I was full of thoughts of my loved ones at home.
I knew that they were praying that I should be delivered from the jaws
of death. This thought cheered and comforted me; and yet I saw friends
falling around me, whose loved ones and friends, were also praying
for their protection. Their prayers were not being answered and why?
Why should I think that the prayers offered for me were more availing
than those offered for them? Why should I have any special reason for
encouragement? These thoughts come to one when he is in the midst of
circumstances which seems to upset many of our principles of religious
faith. They come to us not only in war but in work. They must be
reckoned with. The only answer that I could find as to why the prayers
offered for me were availing up to this time, was that my time had not
come, and that it had not come because God had not ordered it, and God
had not ordered it because He had something for me to do. Of course, He
had heard the prayers which had been offered for me and they entered
into His decree regarding my life. The only answer we can find to many
perplexing questions which come in life is, “It is God’s way, His will.”
I was very busy in supplying the regiment with food, vinegar and water,
and such edibles as I could get together. The doctors were busy sawing
off legs and arms, and binding up wounds, and giving medicines to the
wounded and sick. The women were busy in preparing bandages, lint, and
doing what they could in the alleviation of human suffering. God bless
the dear women who had the faith and the courage to breast the trials
and hardships of soldier life. These scenes would have made your heart
sore. Dear reader, the wounded and dying scattered over the battlefield
thick, the hurrying to and fro of the physicians and the nurses; the
prayers and groans and cries of the wounded, the explosion of bombs,
the whizzing of bullets, the cracking of rifles; you would have thought
that the very forces of hell had been let loose. And, indeed, it was a
hell, the horrors of which no one could ever forget.
We finally retreated under the cover of the cavalry. The colored
troops were the first to enter the field and the last to fall back.
We thereby demonstrated to our President, Abraham Lincoln, and our
General, U. S. Grant, that we were among their best supporters.
The white man had no record to make. He was known as a fighter for
centuries, our record was to be made and we were making it. The flag of
our regiment could be seen floating among the pines. We were glad that
Old Glory was above us with her folds pierced with many bullet holes.
We returned to camp and took our former position in front of Richmond,
where we remained for awhile.
We were again in battle array, having been marched up to the rifle
pits. Our field officers being absent, we were under the command of
Captain Camp, of Company D, our own colonel, W. B. Wooster, was at home
on sick furlough. Lieutenant Colonel W. L. Ward, who had been promoted
to the rank of colonel, was in charge of the Forty-first United States
Cavalry Troop. The lieutenant colonel said to us, “Boys, we must fight
to-day, let me have your best. Duty demands it. I will stand by you
until the last. Watch, keep in line, and obey orders.” He brought us
up double-quick to the rifle pits and the bugle sounded charge. We
charged, firing, yelling, using our bayonets and our arms in the most
cruel manner, but still in accordance with the tactics of warfare. We
were there to kill in every manner possible. We held the pits for
twenty-four hours, brought the rebels to their knees, brought down
their flag and unfurled the Stars and Stripes to the breezes.
This was a disastrous battle, probably the most disastrous I had
ever witnessed. I should probably make exception of the Fort Pillow
Massacre, in which my brother, Steven Newton, was killed. He was a
member of the Fourteenth, Rhode Island Battery. Charles Beeman, Rev.
Amos G. Beeman and Corporal W. W. Wilkins were with him to the end
and were able to make the report of his death to me. We lost in this
battle over one hundred, i. e., I am counting only the loss of the
Twenty-ninth Regiment. This regiment fought most bravely, gaining
great praise, and receiving many compliments from the officers high up
in rank. When the battle was over, we fell back and camped in front
of Richmond. While there we attended the funeral of Private Charles
Bently, who was killed early in the engagement. He died a champion for
liberty and an earnest Christian. Jones Spriggs and thirteen others
were buried at this time.
Many of the veterans went out on foraging expeditions. While resting
we would engage in religious and patriotic songs. One of our favorites
was, “Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.” About this time, the Third
Division, Tenth Army Corps, Twenty-ninth Regiment, and General Birney,
were surprised with the presentation of the United States national
colors, which greatly pleased the boys. The flag was presented by the
Forty-fifth United States Cavalry Troop to our lieutenant colonel, in
a most pleasing manner. He spoke of the great bravery of the soldiers
in battle. Colonel Ward replied that he had 672 guns which would speak
whenever occasion demanded it. He also said that his boys were filled
with as noble sentiments as any that had ever filled the breasts of
boys before the guns.
While on dress parade we received the sad announcement from our
lieutenant colonel that he would leave the regiment, as he had been
promoted to the rank of colonel. This was indeed sad news to us. He had
been with us in many hard-fought battles. We had learned to love him
and had great confidence in his ability. He knew what course to pursue
in order to avert many of the tricks of the Johnnies, not only being
well up in military science, but well acquainted with many little games
that are often played in war.
We remained in front of Richmond five days. While there we were
quiet and enjoyed the much needed sleep that we had. We were greatly
annoyed here as well as in other places with what the soldiers called
greybacks, not the rebels, however; they were genuine creepers. They
molested us no little. Whenever I could get off I would go to the
creek and disrobe myself and pick them out of my clothes, then wash my
clothes and hang them on the bushes to dry. Then I would dress myself
and feel like a king, because once a again I was clean and free from
these unearthly vermin.
From the first to the eighth of November, 1864, we were at Malvern
Hill. I was Commissary Sargeant and was careful to keep as near the
regiment as possible with my department. Sargeant Quartermaster D.
L. Lathrop had charge of the ammunition, knapsacks, etc., under the
command of our regimental quartermaster, there was always detailed a
guard to protect us. We always followed the army with our train. I
remember once that I got into the line of the Johnnies and I ran as if
the hounds of hell were after me. I heard the whizzing of a bullet over
my head, but it missed me. So I said, well they did not get me that
time and Libby Prison has been robbed of an expected treasure.
While here the Twenty-ninth Regiment had charge of the fort until the
third of December.
It was whispered about that Generals Lee, Johnson and others were in a
position to watch our movements and that we might expect an attack at
any time. But we were not worried over this report with such Generals
as U. S. Grant, Sherman, Howard, Weitzel and others. We knew that they
would be able to flank any movement that they might make.
On Monday the fifth, we took up our line of march to a destination
unknown to us, there were all kinds of rumors as to where we would
stop, but at last we found ourselves to the left of Fort Harrison
on the left of the line. Here we camped under orders. We engaged in
the usual preparations for a stay, putting up our tents, building
huts and making things convenient for all concerned. But the next
day the Colored troops were ordered to prepare two days’ rations and
to advance. Then our countenances changed. We did not know but that
another fierce battle was in store for us; and we had had quite enough
fighting to satisfy us for a long while. On Wednesday, we were in front
of the Johnnies, with our breastworks thrown up ready for fight.
The Colored regiments were consolidated in the Second Division, Third
Brigade, Twenty Fifth Army Corps. A number of detached men were taken
from the regiments. Orderly I. J. Hill was Brigade Postmaster. I was
with the commissary department. All things were quiet along the lines
excepting the laughing and yelling of the Johnnies. Once in a while
they would throw a shell into our camp. At this time we would hear
their cheers and laughter.
On January the first, we were in front of Richmond, Va. Here we engaged
in battle with the Rebels, which was terrific. The anxiety, suffering,
slashing, shooting, were beyond description. Many lay dead on the
battlefield, baking in the sun. There were dead animals which had been
exposed for two weeks, the stench was unbearable. These are some of the
indescribable tortures of war.
The rebels soon retired from their position, for they would not
have been able to withstand the Union Army. They were in constant
expectation of the coming of Sherman who at that time was in the
vicinity of Atlanta, Ga. We were under marching orders until the
thirteenth. Colonel Wooster received orders to place his headquarters
near our own regiment. I was determined that I would keep up my
enthusiasm and do all in my power to supply the boys with something to
eat.
On the twenty-third the rebel fleet moved down the James River towards
the Dutch Gap Canal and opened fire on Fort Bradley keeping it up all
night. The following morning the whole line was drawn up for action, at
long range with reinforcements in the rear. The shelling was terrific
all day. I was in the basement of a house, when a shell came through
the window, burst and tore its way through the building. This house
was used for headquarters. Fortunately none of us were hurt. Only the
everlasting arm of God protected us, for all our friends who witnessed
the shell and its devastations, supposed that we were all killed. The
Quartermaster having received a wound in his knee, the Quartermaster
Sargeant and I had to do all the work. At this time Orderly I. J. Hill
and others were let off on parole and went home for twenty days. The
Confederates made another dash to retake their lost territory and to
make sure of the permanent establishment of the Slave Traffic which
has been the curse of every nation or people who has adopted it. Their
plan was to out-flank us and to effect a great slaughter and capture
many of our men and guns and ammunition. And it seemed to us that they
were after the Colored troops. But our leaders were too shrewd for them
and they were repulsed and their depot, magazines and machine shops at
Beaufort, N. C., were blown up and also at Newberne. A great battle was
fought about Fort Fisher and the Rebels were overcome. Hundreds were
killed and wounded in this battle.
The Colored troops in front of Richmond were moved from the breastworks
on the left at Fort Harrison, to the hill in the center, where we built
up a fine elevation overlooking the Rebel works in Richmond. Here we
remained several days under heavy cannonading. We held the enemy so
that they were unable to make any gains on us for four weeks. They made
several attempts to storm and to cut off our supply, but they signally
failed. But our men understood how to construct railroads and we would
frequently hear the whistle of a locomotive in some direction bringing
in our supplies. Our forces were well guarded on every hand by squads
which were experts in caring for the welfare and needs of an army. We
could hear the result of our bombarding in such cities as Petersburg,
etc., and knew that our forces were gradually gaining and that the
Rebels were gradually losing in their strongest holds.
On the twenty-seventh of March we struck our tents and moved on to
Richmond. We were soon formed in line of battle in front of this city.
The Rebels blew up three gunboats and evacuated their works immediately
in front of us. There was heavy cannonading from the gunboats in the
James River, the Monitor and other boats.
At this time there were many refugees coming to us by the hundreds.
This was in part the result of Sherman’s march to the sea. He left
in his wake many monuments of this famous march. There were deserted
villages, chimneys standing without the houses about them, and troops
of stragglers following the army.
Colonel Wooster ordered the 29th Regiment to advance and to do some
daring work in the digging up of buried torpedoes which had been
planted to impede the march of the Union Army. We were however equal to
the task. We captured five hundred pieces of artillery, six thousand
small arms, and the prisoners I did not count, but when we looked on
them in the prison pen, the number seemed to be enormous.
We were present in Richmond when President Lincoln made his triumphal
entry into the city. It was a sight never to be forgotten. He passed
through the main street. There were multitudes of Colored people to
greet him on every hand. They received him with many demonstrations
that came from the heart, thanking God that they had seen the day of
their salvation, that freedom was theirs, that now they could live
in this country, like men and women, and go on their way rejoicing.
Orderly I. J. Hill said that he saw a colored woman trying to get a
look at the president, at last he came along and Orderly Hill said
to her: “Madame, there is the man that made you free.” She shouted,
“Is that President Lincoln? Glory to God, give Him praise for His
goodness.” The President, with his son, and Admiral Porter, together
with others walked over a mile to the headquarters of General Weitzel,
at the mansion of Jeff Davis. A colored man acted as the guide. There
were six Union soldiers as advance guard, then came President Lincoln,
his son, and Admiral Porter, while on his right and his left were
other officers. He was followed by six sailors with their carbines.
This march created the wildest enthusiasm of the Colored people. They
had lived to see the day of their liberty dawning. I was reminded of
what had been done for the ancient Hebrews by Moses when he led them
out of the land of their bondage, into the land of their promised
liberty. Lincoln was indeed our Moses. He led us forth. He gave us our
freedom. I noticed one white lady in a window, who turned away from the
whole scene as if in utter disgust. There were still two sides to the
question, then and there are two sides to it today. How long will these
two sides remain, is the question. As the President looked out upon
the poor Colored people and remembered how many lives had been lost in
working out their salvation, he was not able to keep the tears from his
eyes. They were tears of gladness and sorrow, of regret and delight;
but the tears of my own people were the tears of the greatest joy.
The President went to the state capitol where he made a short address
in which he said: “Now you Colored people are free, as free as I am.
God has made you free and if those who are your superiors are not able
to recognize that you are free, we will have to take the sword and
musket and again teach them that you are free. You are as free as I am,
having the same rights of liberty, life and the pursuit of happiness.”
While at Richmond, we engaged in many foraging expeditions. We found
such things as eggs, chickens, butter, bread, fruit, tobacco. There
were bales of tobacco in the streets free for every one who enjoyed the
weed. And I must say that many were delighted with their free smokes.
There was plenty of Confederate money too, which was often blown about
by the wind as so much worthless waste paper. Well it was waste paper.
With the passing of the Confederacy, the money value passed away on all
such currency.
On April 16th, 1865, we were painfully shocked to hear of the death of
President Lincoln, at the hands of an assassin. No one can measure the
consternation which struck our hearts. This great and wonderful man
who had guided the Ship of State through four years of such perilous
waves and winds, that he should thus pass away and in such an infamous
manner, was more than we could stand. But it was so. Our faith was
almost staggered, that faith which had sustained us in so many battles,
was now staggering under a blow which was severer than any battles,
the death of our Immortal leader. Thus in four years from the first
shot fired on Fort Sumter, four years from the very day of the first
shot, the shot was fired from the hand of Booth, that removed one of
the greatest men the world ever knew, from the scenes of human action.
He was removed too at a time when he was most needed. Yes, he was more
needed, than when the nation was in the midst of a bloody conflict.
He was now needed to set up the battlements of peace, which is a more
difficult work than the forts of warfare.
On the twenty-fourth, we moved from the camp near Petersburg, to Camp
Lincoln where we enjoyed our camp life for awhile. We had lost many of
our numbers through death on the battlefield and disease in the camp,
but losses were now being recruited by volunteers coming to us. I was
kept busy filling our regimental papers, ordering and issuing rations.
Some of our men had become so rum thirsty that they would offer me ten
dollars for a canteen full of whisky. But I was not allowed to sell it,
and to give it out only on the orders of the Quartermaster.
We were not here long. We embarked on the Demolay for Norfolk, Va.
General Russel and staff came on board to tell us goodbye. I had two
barrels of supposed corn beef, the boys called it salt-horse, which
I suppose was nearer the truth. I had also a barrel of sugar. These I
could not ship, so I left them on the ground, for some poor fellows
that could use them. Colonel Wooster came also and saw us off. We left
many friends, some of them with tears in their eyes. They had become
very dear to us. We had shared together the hardships of camp-life and
of the battlefield. Human suffering makes men very near akin. As we
glided swiftly down the James River, for a while we could hear their
cheers and when sound was out of touch, we could see their salutes of
hats and handkerchiefs. We enjoyed the day as soldiers on board the
vessel. I was astonished at the behavior of the soldiers. They gave
themselves over to all kinds of sports and jestings, which disgusted me
most thoroughly. Many were unruly, even threatening the lives of those
who favored going to Texas whither we had been ordered for garrison
duty. Some of the gang were arrested for their insubordination. My
heart was made to shudder at the degrading and shameful life which
was manifested on board the ship. Their swearing, drinking, gambling,
dancing, etc., was heartsickening. It was indeed a revelation and
shows what men will do when not under the eye of authority. Human
nature is indeed most sinful, and were it not for the restrictions
which are thrown about us, none of us know what might come to pass. We
arrived at Norfolk and anchored for the night. With having witnessed
the debauchery on board the vessel and at the same time wrought with
anxiety for my wife and two babies, my father and mother at home, I
confess I was in a most depressed condition of mind and heart. “Be
strong and of good courage,” came to me like a flash and I was strong
and buoyant in a little while. How grand is the truth of God, when we
find it such a rock of refuge in times of trouble; I was thus greatly
consoled and went to bed looking up at the shining stars, as if they
were so many angels, sent by God, to guard me.
There was quite an excitement on board when it was whispered about that
the officers had covenanted together to take the soldiers on board, to
Cuba, and sell them as slaves. There was quite an indignation against
I. J. Hill, for it was thought that he was in some manner party to
this arrangement. The men were suspicious also of Sam Brown, a clerk.
I, together with others, had the good fortune to escape any insults
or indignities. While at Norfolk, we went to church and saw quite a
number of well-to-do Colored people. Rev. J. M. Brown, of the A. M.
E. Church, I think was pastor. He treated us very cordially indeed.
We were introduced to many of the congregation. This church had a
Sunday School of six or seven hundred members. It was an inspiring
sight to see them nicely dressed and to hear them sing so sweetly, many
beautiful Sunday school songs. But the time had come when we had to
leave the many dead of our comrades. We had done all that we could for
them in the last sad rites of death and now their bodies were resting
under the cold sods of the South, awaiting the Resurrection Day, when
we will all meet again and hear our record of the deeds done in the
body and the judgment based on these deeds. The memories of war are one
of the saddest features thereof. These memories can never be blotted
out; for as we grow older they seem to become more vivid.
[Illustration: BETHEL A. M. E. CHURCH