We took shipping on the transport, Blackstone, for Texas. We were
about fifteen days on the waters, the ocean was calm. There were six
or seven hundred on board. It was no little job to take care of the
hungry stomachs of these men. But we had a most pleasant trip and
enjoyed the ocean waves and breezes. The officers spent most of their
time in fishing. Once in awhile a fish six or seven feet long would
be hauled in. For two days we were out of sight of land and only one
small schooner passed us. There was much complaint on board on account
of the army food which I was compelled to give them salt-pork or hard
tack and bad coffee. They thought that being on board of ship warranted
better food, but I told them that I had to give them what I had. And so
we fought the battle of the stomach. There were many however who were
afflicted with sea-sickness and had no concern for something to eat.
We had a burial at sea. The poor soldier was sewed up in a blanket and
consigned to a grave in the bottom of the deep. The funeral service was
very impressive to many of us, for it was the first burial at sea we
had witnessed. I must confess that there was a grandeur about it that
inspired one--as the boundless ocean received the body of our comrade,
eternity had received his soul. I thought of his loved ones and that in
all probability they would never hear of him. Then I wondered if that
grand song could not be an interpretation of this burial,
“Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep,
In ocean cave still safe with Thee,
The germ of Immortality.”
At this time I was not a member of the church. But my father had taught
me to pray. And as I have frequently related, I often prayed in battle
when I thought that my time had come. I had a sense of the guilt of sin
and of the need of confession of my sins. So I had also, the sense
of peace which comes from a man’s justification through Jesus Christ.
My case I am sure is but an illustration of the cases of many men and
women who have not connected themselves with the church. They are
real Christians as I was, having all the ordinary experience of the
Christian, but not having made any outward profession. We are therefore
unable to know who are the children of God, for certainly there are
believers outside of the church. Our judgment therefore must always be
a charitable one. Yet I do not want the impression to be made that I,
in any sense, approve of believers remaining outside of the church.
An outward profession of faith in our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ, is
an open badge of our religion which men can see. We should not hide
our light under a bushel, but put it on a candle stick that all about
us may see what we are by what we live. When we rounded the Florida
reefs, the boys’ hearts were gladdened, because they had seen the
land once again and their thought was that they were nearing the end
of the voyage. We had some sickness on board, such diseases as yellow
jaundice, malaria, chills and fever. We were huddled together like a
lot of wild ducks and the sanitary conditions were against our health.
When about seven days on our trip, our drinking water failed us. We
were on the water, yet we had no water to drink; but we did the best we
could under the circumstances.
We were glad when we came into the harbor at Mobile, Ala. Here we found
many transports lying in the harbor. Fort Gaines was to our right and
Fort Morgan to our left. The boys were all delighted, because they
were wild to get to land again, and especially to get a drink of good
water. How dependent we are on mother earth after all for our lives.
After passing the forts a short distance the anchor was dropped. The
surroundings were grand. There were gunboats lying in the stream,
with their artillery of death-dealing cannon looking forth from the
decks and thoroughly manned with the smaller-implements of naval
warfare. But our hopes were not fulfilled, for a command came that we
were to sail immediately to New Orleans. The men were bitter in their
disappointment, but such is the experience of war. Men are not free,
they are the parts of the gigantic machine of death, so many cogs in
the wheels, or so many wheels in the machine, or so many parts of the
machine. They soon became reconciled however. We had plenty of hard
tack and salt horse left us, and with this we could not starve to the
death. Our voyage was an uneventful one, save for the good weather
and fine ocean. We were soon in the channel for New Orleans. When
we reached the forts Jackson and Phillips, a signal stopped us for
inspection. We were told that we could not go to New Orleans, that
none of the men or officers could go any further without an order from
General Grant. The officers telegraphed to Washington to General Grant.
We were in rather a dilapidated condition, about out of coal and in
need of better fuel for the stomach, with the men completely worn out
with the voyage.
We were however permitted to go on land at Fort Jackson. This was a
magnificent fort with its seventy guns overlooking the water inlet.
There were many alligators in this place and we amused ourselves by
killing them, which of course was a greatly desired thing. I had plenty
of hard tack and this seemed to attract the reptiles. I remember one
fellow over seven feet long I killed.
At this place the Colored troops had been shamefully and barbarously
treated. As I thought of the outrages which they had suffered only
about one month before our arrival, I felt that if I could, I would
like a little revenge on their account. But there was no opportunity
for such outlet of wicked feeling. At last we received an order from
General Grant to take the transport to New Orleans, to get a supply of
coal and oil, and to have the transport repaired. But to our dismay,
only the officers were permitted to go. We were left at Fort Phillips.
I managed however, to get to New Orleans, in that I had charge of
the commissary department. We were already beginning to forget the
hardships of the battlefield. Our minds were turning to the ordinary
life which we live, and looking forward to the pleasures connected with
home and with business. And I assure you, my dear readers, that it was
a happy release. We had the constant joy in our hearts that our beloved
people had their freedom, bought with the blood of those who now slept
the last sleep on many battlefields; but we did not believe that the
price paid for this boon of liberty was too dear. The price of human
liberty can never be estimated. This is especially true of those who
knew what slavery meant. And the Colored Race has an endless debt to
pay their White friends who bought their liberty with their own blood.
While it is true that the White people brought our forefathers here and
sold them into slavery, which of course they had no right to do, this
does not diminish the price which this same race had to pay in order to
buy us out of the slavery into which they had sold us. And it does not
in the least diminish the debt of gratitude which we shall owe them as
long as time exists.
I had a short but very pleasant stay in New Orleans. On Sunday we went
to the A. M. E. Church, of which the Rev. William A. Dove was pastor.
This was the St. James A. M. E. Church. We were most cordially received
by the pastor and members. They were kind enough to take care of us
while in the city. We learned from the members that while we were on
the battlefield, they were at home fasting and praying that our grand
cause might be victorious. “Fight and pray” is sure to win the day for
any just cause. The services were very pleasing and profitable. The
pastor preached in the morning and our orderly I. J. Hill, at night. I
and others, were much lifted up and realized anew what it was to draw
water from the wells of salvation. We spent much of our time in seeing
the sights of the unique city of the South. Our friends were more than
kind to us during our stay. We lacked nothing for good beds and good
food and good society; and we were in good shape to appreciate these
things, because of the privations, losses, suffering, and fears through
which we had passed.
Our transport having been repaired and furnished with needed coal and
oil and food, we were soon on our way back to the fort. We had not gone
far on our course until there was an alarm of fire. This created quite
a panic, but the blaze was soon put out and we were enjoying our trip
down the “Father of Waters.”
We arrived at Fort Phillips with more soldiers for the Twenty-ninth
Regiment, they having been brought in from other quarters.
We were soon off for Texas. With the transport loaded with human
freight, we started for Brazos De Santiago, Texas. We found the gulf
quite rough on our entering it. This produced sea sickness with a great
many. I remember one fellow who was very sea sick. I was unable to
do anything with him. He was continually calling out “New York, New
York.” “There goes my liver,” he cried, having spit up some blood.
Our great trouble on this voyage was the lack of water. They had a
condenser on board which reduced the amount of salt a few degrees, but
we could easily taste the saline property of the water. We found Brazos
a most undesirable place, there were plenty of fleas and mosquitoes
and sand burrs. We had our headquarters at this place which was knee
deep in water. Our Colored troops were nearly perishing for water. The
suffering was most intense. It was heart-rending. I cried out to God to
send us some help. We had but little water and that was quite brackish.
Our means of condensing the water gave us only about five thousand
gallons when we were in need of not less than ten thousand gallons. We
paid ten cents a canteen for water and would have been willing to have
paid fifty cents, or any price.
After a while we met some Mexicans who had brought water from the Rio
Grande and sold it for ten cents a canteen. Colonel Sadrick was very
indignant over this hardship. When he saw our scars and realized how
much these good soldiers had suffered and the privations through which
they had already passed, he saw General Wietzel and requested that the
troops should be taken from Brazos. He met with success and we took our
line of march for White Ranch on the Rio Grande River about ten miles
south of Brazos. The march was one of great trial. We were in mud knee
deep and in some places the water was waist deep. When we reached the
Ranch, the soldiers were well nigh famished. They made a mad rush for
the river and while many of them were on the bank, it gave way, and
several of them were drowned. We were all greatly saddened over this
misfortune. It seemed enough that men should have given up their lives
on the battlefield, this was matter of course; but when men who had
stemmed the tide of death which swept the battlefield were drowned, it
seemed more than we could stand to see them cut off from their loved
ones by a mere accident. But it was the Lord’s way to take some more of
them home.
It was not a hard matter for us to sleep the first night. We spread our
rubber blankets on the bare ground and enjoyed our rest as much as if
our beds had been made of feathers. The next morning we saw the body of
a man floating down the muddy river. He too had evidently met with some
accident, or had been killed and thrown into the river. It was not our
duty to make any investigation.
I prepared the best breakfast possible for the boys. Our fuel
was gathered from the woods and rail fences. I said woods, but
unfortunately there was not a tree in the whole country, so we had to
do the best we could. But we had coffee, rice, sweet potatoes and our
regular rations. We put up our tents here and soon had the camp under
military discipline. Then we left for Brownsville, Texas, a distance of
twenty miles. The march was a trying one on account of the bad roads.
We were not able to keep our stores with us on this account and left
a detail of soldiers to guard them. Many a solder sickened and had to
be taken to White Ranch to be cared for by Orderly Hill. Some of the
men died on the way and were buried under the Texas sod with no stone
to identify them. One boat was on its way to Brownsville with rations.
I remember my homesickness at this time. After the battles had been
fought, I was anxious to return to my loved ones. I felt that my duty
had been done towards my country and that now I must take up my duty
to my dear ones. We were soon joined by Orderly Hill. He said that
he had gotten tired waiting for the boat and had come on to be with
us. He threw a few chunks together and started a fire and lighted his
pipe. After a few moments reflection, he said: “These light afflictions
are but for a moment, for they work for us a far more and exceeding
weight of glory.” We met a drove of hungry wolves which made two or
three attempts to come to us, but about fifteen shots from our guns
were enough to satisfy them they had no more need of us than we had
of them. In time we reached Brownsville. We saw strange things there.
The houses were little huts; the people dressed in their shirts and
drawers; the women dressed in a long shirt with their breast exposed,
seemingly caring nothing for decency or modesty. It did not look to
me that the people here had ever known what it was to know or to
serve the true and living God. They were certainly far from any such
practical knowledge, judging from their daily lives. I thought “If
the righteous scarcely be saved where then shall the sinner and the
ungodly appear?” The next morning I was not feeling well. I went to
one of the streams and bathed. There were plenty of lizards, frogs and
horned toads about. The horns of the toad reminded one of the horns
of a goat. It was a place of trials. Some of the men swore and cursed,
others were kept too busy scratching, while others were praying. It
was a time of sore trials. One of our officers, Captain Clark ought to
have been with the Greys instead of the Blues, he had so little use for
the Colored troops. So he marched them almost to death on this march.
Colonel Wooster, a man of tender feeling and of a proper sense of right
and justice and without prejudice against the Colored people, saw the
outrage perpetrated against us and put Clark under arrest. He was kept
there until Colonel Wooster resigned. After he left, we were again
under the command of Captain Clark. Orderly Hill was very sick and was
ordered to the General Hospital. As I looked upon him I said to myself,
Hill you are a very sick man and your warfare is about ended. There
were about seven hundred in the hospital sick. They were treated as if
they had been brutes, doctors and nurses being without any feeling.
They were dying at the rate of ten a day. The stewards would search
the dead, take their valuables, then report them dead. What a contrast
between our camp on the banks of the James River and the camp in this
far off, God-for-saken town of Brownsville, Texas.
And now after all our hard fought battles, our fears and foreboding,
our privations and losses, we received the news from the War Department
that the Twenty-ninth Regiment was ordered home. It is needless to
say, that the home-fever spread more rapidly than any fever that had
ever prevailed in our ranks. We looked for and patiently awaited the
day when we would be ordered out. On the fourteenth day of October,
1865, at nine o’clock a. m., the recruiting officer was on the ground,
at which time Company K. was mustered out. We were escorted through
Brownsville by the Ninth U. S. C. T., Colonel Bailey being in command.
We marched to an open field where the two regiments bid each other
goodbye. It was an impressive scene, for these regiments had shared
each others fortunes and misfortunes through the war. They had become
inseparable, but now the best of friends must part. How happy we were
that we should be permitted to breathe the fresh air again and to tramp
through the country as free men. Yet I had the feeling that the Civil
War was the mighty struggle of the White Race and that the struggle
of the Colored Race was yet in the future. There is such a thing as
a man having to work out of his own salvation, and this is also true
of a race. Our salvation had been bought for us by the nation, but
it is ours now to work out this salvation. As we marched out through
the grand country and these thoughts came to me, I cried out to
God, “Can these dry bones live? Will this country give the Colored
man an equal chance in the marts of trade, in industrial fields, and
in the professions? He is yet untried in the ranks of an aggressive
civilization, for he has been a slave. Can these dry bones live?”
These were the prayer-thoughts that were filling my mind and heart.
Our march was a trying one on account of the bad condition of the
roads, but we were going home. No one but the soldier who has been
honorably discharged after an issue has been settled, knows the joys
that well-up in the heart as he turns his face homeward. The feeling
is indescribable. There were several boys sick, but their spirits were
revived on account of home-going. We soon reached Brazos where we spent
the night. I was very glad to say goodbye to my Texas friends and
experience. They could live on the sandy plains of Brownsville, as long
as they pleased; they could eat the strips of dried goat meat until
they were satisfied; they could drink and relish the muddy water of the
Rio Grande considering it the best water in the world; but as for me, I
would choose other quarters. Now that the Confederacy had surrendered,
now that the Palmetto flag had been lowered forever and Old Glory
floated in its stead, now that millions of people were made free and
could live and think as real men and women, I was more than happy to
say goodbye to all these things and begin life anew.
We embarked on the transport Alabama, for New Orleans. Our voyage on
the gulf was a rough one on account of a heavy storm. We were forced
to cast anchor. We passed Galveston and were much pleased with the
place. We found the citizens much more sociable than we had expected,
for we knew that they were Secessionists and Rebels and that they had
about as much use for Negro soldiers as the Devil has for Holy Water.
Nevertheless, we went through the town and made the acquaintance of
some of our brethren. We met an old lady who had been a slave. When she
saw us and realized that the victorious end had come, she cried at the
top of her voice. “The Lord, the Mighty One has conquered and we are
all free! Glory to God!” We took on wood and I regulated my rations for
we were four hundred and fifty miles from New Orleans. We were again
on board the transport for New Orleans, but we were unable to leave
the harbor on account of a fearful gale that swept the gulf. We made
an attempt, but were forced back again into the harbor. The soldiers
became quite unruly owing to their impatience and also, I suppose the
feeling that they could do as they pleased. After a hard voyage we
landed safely in New Orleans. We found an open lot in the south side of
the city and put up our tents and made ready for a good night’s sleep.
We felt that we could sleep now. That we had taken part in a mighty
conflict and had shared in the victories of the war, it was now our
right to rest. It was the sleep of the just man.
We had a quiet Sunday in New Orleans. Our chaplain preached for us.
Great crowds came out to visit us and to give us their most hearty
congratulations. They gave us coffee, sandwiches, fruits, etc., in
token of the appreciation of our services in their behalf. We saw
strange things in New Orleans. We found the mixture of French and
Negro, called the Creole, speaking a dialect of the French. We found
the Octoroon and that some of these unions had from one to seven
children. We found that marriage among them was rather an uncommon
thing and that a man could establish almost any relationship that
pleased him and enter into the Creole life and be received and welcomed
as one of them. We found that they drank more claret, champagne,
whisky, beer, etc., than they did water. They of course had no sense of
their obligation to God and I suppose that many of them really had no
conception of the Real and True God. Their lives gave no evidence of
such a knowledge.
The first annual conference of the A. M. E. Church was being held by
Bishop J. P. Campbell. We enjoyed the services very much being in the
spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. We were in New Orleans two weeks. At
the end of this time one of the men was shot. This created quite an
excitement among us. We broke camp soon and marched through the streets
to the wharf where we took ship. We were enthusiastically greeted on
every hand, receiving god-speeds and congratulations and blessings. I
shall never forget the musical voices of the people as they sang. The
music sounded like a thousand silver harps, so soft and delicate and
stirring it was! We went on board the steamer Champion. We said goodbye
to the old city of New Orleans and to many of the new friends which we
had made. We had a heavy sea. The storms were terrific. Our clothes
were almost continuously wet owing to the rocking of the vessel, for
days it was impossible to find a place to sleep. The voyage was quite
rough all the way to New York. At last we arrived at New York City. It
was morning. We remained on board until about two p. m., when we left
the boat and marched through the principal streets, receiving cheers
and salutes. We had not forgotten our former experiences here however.
And we were inwardly revolving the thought that as Black men we had
done our part in bringing about a change of sentiment that would make
a new city out of New York and every other city in the Union. And we
felt that it was but just that we should receive some of the plaudits
of praise and reward. When we passed down Broadway in front of the St.
Nicholas Hotel, the flags of the Nation and of the state were suddenly
hoisted by a Colored man and we gave three lusty cheers for the flag
and country and home. At last the orders came to fall into line for
our final trip. We marched to pier twenty eight East River where the
steamer, Granite State, was waiting to carry us to Hartford, Conn.
The distance was about one hundred and fifty miles. We were cheered
by every town and village that we passed. We arrived at Hartford and
were escorted to the camp grounds and tendered a fine reception by the
citizens, a most pleasing welcome.
At eight o’clock one morning we were paid off, all but one hundred
dollars bounty which was to be paid at some future date. Some went to
their homes, others remained in Hartford, until they had spent all
their money and were locked up in the prisons by the police officers.
After having cleared up my commissary department and turning over my
books and papers to the proper custodian, and having said farewell to
my comrades, I took a midnight train for my home in New Haven.
The occasion of my sudden departure from Hartford is very interesting.
One of our soldiers was passing a Jew store. He was begged to go in and
buy a suit. He got the suit of clothes and walked out without paying
for it. The soldier came into camp and soon the Jew followed. I would
not allow him to enter camp and arrest the soldier. Not long afterward,
I went down town and the Jew had me arrested and locked up. I was
in jail until about midnight when some of my friends liberated me.
Immediately I made my way to the station and left Hartford. I do not
know that the Jew got his money and I was not much concerned.
I arrived at home at seven o’clock in the morning and found my wife
and children, my father and mother, ready to give me the most hearty
welcome and greeting which I received with a glad heart. I was not seen
out of my house for about three weeks. I simply wanted to rest and to
drink in the joys that were awaiting me. Then I went to Brooklyn, my
wife’s home, and registered as a citizen of the United States. I again
thanked God that the war was over and that slavery was dead. “Now unto
Him that hath loved us and washed us from our sins in His blood, to Him
be glory and dominion and power, now and forevermore. Amen!”
[Illustration: ALEXANDER H. NEWTON