"You do not look like a soldier either, friend?"
"No, sir," he replied, "I'm not a soldier; nor would my conscience
allow me to fight in the confederate cause. I've always been a Union
man, and am so still."
I cautioned him about expressing sentiments that might compromise
him when we left, as it was not certain how long he would receive
protection from our arms; but he replied, that he cared not; his
sentiments were already well known, and while he lived he would
express them to friend or foe.
Observing he was lightly clad, I asked if he had any friends in the
city who could supply him with clothes and something to eat. He
said his son-in-law, named Patterson, lived just across the street,
and would attend to his wants, if acquainted with his situation. I
offered to carry a message to Mr. Patterson, who expressed surprise
at his father-in-law's arrest, saying he was one of the few men in
that neighborhood, who had all along remained true to the old flag.
He immediately repaired to the provost marshal's office, and, I had
the satisfaction of knowing, was successful in obtaining the old
gentleman's unconditional release.
We left our blankets and overcoats on the field, and the night being
cold, after our blood had cooled somewhat, when the day's excitement
was ended, we felt the need of some covering, and a party of our
company was made up to go over and get them; but we could not procure
a team, and the project was abandoned. I, however, had no notion of
doing without my overcoat, and, with two or three others, who were
of the same mind, started for the field. We passed over the place
where the fighting had been thickest, and stumbled upon, and over,
evidences of the deadly strife--inanimate bodies of friend and foe,
maimed and disfigured. But I will not dwell upon the sickening scene
revealed to us by the light of the camp fires; suffice it to say,
that we were successful in obtaining our clothing and returned to our
temporary quarters tired and hungry.
During our absence, a hotel had been set on fire, whether by design
or through accident, could not be found out. It was burning fiercely
when we returned; and, despite the efforts of our men to extinguish
it, was destroyed, together with some small dwellings adjacent.
The gunboats had come up to a blockade about four miles below the
city, which was commanded by an earthwork fort; and, after we had
driven the rebels out of Kinston, we could hear the continuous boom
of heavy artillery in that direction. A squad of the 3d New York
Cavalry started for the scene, and surprised and captured the fort
that was pounding away at the gunboats, and nearly all in it.
The result of our day's work may be summed up in a few words--we beat
the rebels from a strong position, took over 500 prisoners, and 11
pieces of artillery.
The battle of Kinston was won on the same day on which the battle of
Fredericksburg was fought.
On Monday morning we were awakened early, and with the 9th New
Jersey, took up the advance. Recrossing the bridge, we passed over
the battle-field, and here I observed a fine mastiff laying down
beside the body of his dead rebel master. I had often read of such
things; but I had at last the privilege of seeing for myself that
noble instinct of affection which binds so closely the ties between
man and the inferior animals.
About two miles on the road to Whitehall (for we had turned off
in that direction), I left the ranks, and went into a house at
the roadside. A poor widow, with three or four young children,
constituted the family. The poor woman seemed terribly frightened,
and in a tremulous voice told me her husband had been in the rebel
army, and had died at Manassas; that she had to depend for her
support, and that of her children, upon the labor of the loom, and
that the house she lived in was given her for occupation, free, by
a gentleman who owned the plantation on which it stood. She gave me
some corn-bread, and I gave her in exchange a few biscuit and some
tobacco, for she smoked; and with pity in my heart for the poor woman
and her helpless family, I left them, none the worse off for my
visit, and rejoined the regiment which had halted for a rest a short
distance ahead.
About mid-day, however, I began to feel my legs growing stiff,
and being unable to keep up with the regiment, I 'fell out' and
straggled--for the first time. Charles Renaud (our late cook,
whom I have mentioned before) was in the same boat, and we soon
came together, and together trudged on as best we could, rested
together, made our coffee together, and together visited many
points of interest and attraction on our route, gathering a stray
honeycomb here, and a stray piece of corn bread there; but the
grand object of our search (which was anything of a spirituous or
malt nature we could get hold of--whiskey preferred) could not be
found. At length, shortly after mid-day, we came in sight of a
really handsome one-story cottage house, evidently the abode of
wealth and refinement, and thither we went, but only to find that
we had been anticipated; the house deserted by all save a negro,
and every thing in the most delightful confusion--drawers pulled
out, and their contents scattered about, chairs and furniture
broken, and every portable thing of value missing. But we were not
disappointed at this, as our object was not plunder, but--whiskey.
Bringing the point of my bayonet in close proximity to the darky's
breast, I conjured him as he wished for the success of the North,
and his own freedom and life, to tell me if he had any whiskey or
apple-jack stowed away about the premises. He turned pale (that
is, for a darky), his knees smote together, and, with an agonizing
appeal to spare his life (which was perfectly unnecessary, inasmuch
as I had no notion of confiscating it) and solemn assurances that
there was nothing of the kind on the premises, directed me to a
distillery, which, he averred, lay in from the road about 'haaf'
a mile, on the right hand, just after crossing the second branch.
Off we started, and on our way questioned a farmer, who, with horse
and team, was requested to accompany the army so that he should not
give information to his rebel friends of its whereabouts--Foster
having given them the slip--but he stoutly denied all knowledge of
its whereabouts, averring that there was nothing of the kind within
twenty miles. Somewhat staggered by this information, we were about
giving up the search; but depending more upon the darky's word than
that of Mr. Secesh, we finally concluded to give the place a trial.
We struck off at the point indicated, and followed a rough cart-road,
which, a short distance onward, diverged into numerous roads and
bridle-paths, to choose between which was no little difficulty. At
length we pitched upon one, and having disencumbered ourselves of
blankets, overcoats, and haversacks, which we secreted behind a
fallen tree, set forward, determined to see the end of that road, at
the same time keeping a wary eye in case we should stumble upon a
stray guerilla party. Instead of going 'haaf' a mile, we went over
two miles before we came in sight of the object of our search, which
was just beyond a grist-mill, on the bank of a stream. We knew it to
be a distillery by the number of casks and barrels around it, and
by the peculiar odor arising from it, borne to our nostrils on the
wings of the wind. But all was deserted; the mill and still-house
were locked, bolted and barred, and our cautious advance found no
opposition from anything animate. We paused before the strongly
protected door of the distillery, and I doubted our ability to break
the lock.
"Well, then, let us smash in ze door."
"But we will be heard by the guerillas who may not be far off, and
what would we do if a dozen of them should come upon us?"
"Fight, I teenk."
"Fight! What chance would we have against so many?"
"We could fire, and re-treet."
"Yes; but they would probably surround us before we knew it."
"Well--dhan, I suppose we must be tak-en pree-so-neer."
"And would you like that, Charley?"
"I sup-pose if we cannot help it--what you do?" and he shrugged his
shoulders.
"Are you willing to run the risk?"
"Oui--if you say so!"
But believing there might be an easier way of 'breaking and
entering,' besides attacking the formidable door before us, I
suggested a reconnoitre of the rear, where we found an opening
defended only by a few boards nailed crosswise. These were soon
ripped off, and, leaving Charley to guard against any surprise from
without, I entered, taking his canteen, and proceeded to explore.
There was corn in soak, and plenty of empty casks; but no whiskey. At
length I lit upon a stone jug nearly full, from which came the smell
of whiskey, and, giving Charley to understand I had found the prize,
I proceeded to fill both the canteens, after having accomplished
which, I thought it would be nothing out of the way to save what I
had secured as much as possible, and therefore proceeded to fortify
myself with a pull at the jug; but the first mouthful convinced me
that the prize I had secured was not whiskey, but water (no doubt,
the jug had contained whiskey once, as was evident from the smell).
Vexed at my disappointment, I proceeded to examine further, but with
no success, and I finally emerged empty-handed as I had entered.
Charley was as much disappointed as I, but a shrug and muttered
'sacre' was all the evidence he gave of it. We then broke into the
mill; but found nothing there except corn and some empty kegs. We
went to a house or barn in the rear, filled with corn, but were
equally unsuccessful. There was a house about a mile distant from the
mill, and after a consultation, in which it was taken for granted
that it must belong to the owner of the distillery, we started for
it. Within a quarter of a mile of the house was a grove of young
pines, and there we halted and arranged that I should go forward
alone, and in case of danger Charley could come up at the proper,
time, when I would ask him where he left the rest of the men, and
he was to reply--"Waiting in the grove." Fixing on my bayonet, and
looking to see if the cap of my piece was all right, I moved for
the house, which I reached without molestation or discovery, except
by a sentinel dog (not a fierce one), who retreated in good order
at my approach. I entered the first door I came to, and proceeded
through a bed room into which it opened, to the kitchen or general
room of the house. My heavy tread announced a stranger, I suppose,
for half a dozen females and as many children came in at once, and
seemed transfixed and terrified at the apparition they beheld. Giving
assurance that I intended no harm to any of them, I inquired if
the master of the house was at home, and if so, where he then was?
After a little hesitation, they told me he was in the garden, in
front. I went out to him, and he returned my salutation without any
exhibition of ill-will. I inquired if guerillas were numerous in the
neighborhood, which he denied, saying, however, at length, that there
had been 'a right smart' of mounted men in the neighborhood a short
time previously. At this juncture Charley came up, and I questioned,
and received such answer from him as agreed upon. I inquired about
the distillery, but the planter disclaimed its ownership, saying
that the man who owned it, lived a 'right smart' distance beyond.
Had he any whiskey? No, sir; he hadn't a drop--we might search
if we pleased--he had nothing in that line but some peach brandy
(spirits), which had been burnt in the distillation, but was just as
good, and we were welcome to it. Taking him at his word, we poured
into our canteens enough of the spirits to warrant our filling them
with water, and still leave a strong drink (I didn't have the heart
to take all). We then asked if he had anything to eat, as we were
hungry, when his wife immediately set before us a good dish of pork,
corn bread, and sweet potatoes, which we did ample justice to. The
children became more familiar, and some of the youngest actually came
up to us, to share in our meal. They were the finest children I had
seen in North Carolina. Thanking our host--for we had nothing better
to give in return--we retraced our steps in better spirits, and soon
rejoined our struggling and straggling comrades, who had been, and
were still, wending along on their weary way.
We had in Co. K a young fellow, of small stature, named Tom McNally,
who was one of the regimental 'markers.' Tom was full of fun, and had
a great love for horseflesh. He accompanied the regiment on every
expedition, and it was remarked, that he always managed to have a
horse to ride ('confiscated,' of course, from rebels, in a manner
peculiar to Tom). At the battle of Kinston, he came in possession of
a fine colt; but, during the afternoon, while engaged in exploring
the town, the animal was stolen by one of the 51st. Tom went up
boldly to the headquarters of the regiment, and demanded the horse;
but the colonel of the 51st told him he had no right to the animal,
and should not have him.
"I've as much right to him as the other fellow," said Tom; "and if I
can't get him any other way, I'll steal him back again!"
And he would have carried out his threat, but eight men of the 51st
were detailed to guard the animal that night, and, of course, he
stood no chance of being successful, and did not try his hand at the
game.
Nothing disheartened, however, he next morning struck off ahead of
the regiment, and had not proceeded above three miles before he came
to a plantation, where he found a fine young mare; and actually
compelled the owner to put on bridle, saddle, and assist him to
mount. The wife of the planter did not wish to lose the animal, and
told Tom she had a better horse in one of the fields, which he could
have instead; but, suspecting the horse could not be better, he made
off amid the complaints of the woman. One of the 9th New Jersey, who
witnessed the affair told him it was a shame, &c.
"Shut up your head!" answered Tom, "you'd be only too glad to get a
horse to ride yourself!"
And, sure enough, it was not long until Tom saw the Jersey-man
mounted on a blind mule he had taken from a negro.
Shortly after, Tom procured a pair of spurs, and on applying them to
the mare's flanks, developed a peculiarity, which his ready wit soon
turned to account, as the following will show:
Riding up to a planter's house, he accosted a negro girl, and asked
her for some eggs. She refused to give him any, when, turning the
horse's heels towards her, and applying the spurs, the animal began
kicking furiously, Tom at the same time exclaiming--
"If you don't get me some eggs, I'll kick your brains out!"
"O lor, massa, don't kill me, and I get de eggs!" she said, and
retreated to the hen-house; but once inside, and feeling secure, she
again attempted to put him off by saying there were no eggs; when,
without further parley, he backed his nag up against the hen-house,
and giving her the spurs, the animal commenced kicking against it
so violently, that the wench, fearing the building would be knocked
about her ears, piteously begged him to desist, and she would get him
all the eggs he wanted. Tom drew off from the attack, and received
the fruits of his victory, in the shape of a dozen eggs. The same
persuasive force also procured a canteen full of peach brandy. But
luck is often a fickle jade, as is a strange mare, sometimes; for,
the very qualities in Tom's animal of which he was so proud, and
which had served his turn so well, came near being the death of him.
Passing too close to her heels one evening, the vicious brute gave
him a kick in the side, and broke two of his ribs, which eventually
ended in his being discharged from the regiment.
I might here pause, and give a description of the stragglers (among
whom I found myself for the first time.) The mass of stragglers, as a
general thing, are composed of men who become worn out with marching,
or who are too foot-sore to keep up with their respective battalions,
and fall behind, keeping on as best they can, and generally rejoining
the regiments when they bivouac, though, of course, some hours after
the halt for the night takes place. Some--often a great portion--of
them, however, straggle for the sake of picking up stray fowls,
victuals, and whatever else palatable which might fall in their way;
and it was an amusing study to watch these fellows scattered and
squatted along the roadside, or snugly ensconced in the angles of
the fences, leisurely engaged in the work of plucking geese, turkies
and other fowl, or skinning and dissecting dead porkers. Sometimes
a cow would be met with and slain, and then quite a number of these
stragglers would congregate, light a fire, and proceed to roast and
devour the not unsavory pieces of flesh hewn from the still quivering
carcase. There is, of course, a rear-guard to each brigade; but
they do not succeed in keeping the men moving fast enough, and are
generally compelled to 'let them slide.' Some of the stragglers,
however, take a different method of prosecuting their researches,
and, instead of falling behind, push ahead, and spread themselves
like locusts on each flank, and generally make a clean sweep of all
things eatable in their course.
The army bivouacked for the night within about five miles of
Whitehall. In the morning, just before we started, a difficulty
occurred between Billy Patterson and a little drummer. Words grew
hot, and the drummer, making a demonstration on Billy's physiognomy,
the latter (a burly, double-fisted fellow), as if resolved to die in
the last ditch, exclaimed--
"Well, be----, a man has got to die but once, and I might as well die
now"--
But his further utterance was stopped by the little drummer springing
up and dealing him a 'sockdologer' under the ear. Before Billy
could draw in his skirmishers, however, and prepare for a general
engagement, an officer stepped up and separated the belligerents.
About nine o'clock on Tuesday, our advance came up with the enemy at
Whitehall, who, after a sharp skirmish, retired across the river,
burning the bridge behind them.
Whitehall consisted of one house, which looked as if it never knew a
coat of paint, and why it was called by that name has been a mystery
to me to this day. The only reasonable solution I can give to the
apparent misnomer is, that a man named White, or a white man, lived
there.
Upon the advance of our forces towards the river--a feint being made
as if we intended to cross the same--the enemy opened on us from the
opposite side with artillery and musketry. They had also a number of
sharpshooters in the tree-tops, and other advantageous positions on
the other bank, who kept up a continuous and pelting fire upon us,
with perfect impunity, too, for we could not see them, though they
could see us, and picked off many of our poor fellows.
The 17th were ordered down to the river bank on the right of the
road, and got into a hornet's nest and no mistake; for the shells
burst around and among us, and the bullets made the air vocal with
their insinuating p-e-w-phet; but though we had quite a number
wounded, not one of our number was killed.
[Illustration]
While being actively engaged upon the river bank, our own artillery
had come up, and commenced pelting at the rebs in glorious style.
We had six batteries (forty-two pieces) in the expedition, and here
they were all brought into play. The enemy had also a good share of
artillery, and when they all got into full working order, what with
the bursting of shells and the diapason of small arms, the ground
fairly shook with the reverberations.
The wooded bank of the river, in which the 17th were posted, becoming
dangerous from the fire of our artillery, which ripped through the
trees and drove the splinters about in all directions, wounding some
of our men, Col. Amory sent in his aide with instructions for Lt. Col.
Fellows to draw his men further to the rear. I was sitting cosily
on the edge of a sloping bank, my legs astride the butt of a tree,
and anxiously dodging my head about in search of a sharp-shooter
who was, as I had occasion to believe, exclusively engaged in the
endeavor to put me out of suspense and existence at the same time,
when the aide came up and inquired where the Lt. Col. was. Perhaps
it was officiousness on my part to direct him in the most safe and
expeditious way to find Lt. Col. Fellows, who, as usual was at the
front; for, without noticing my directions he proceeded further, and
came near faring much worse. Just as he was taking advantage of an
opening in the underbrush to go down the bank, whizz-herr-r-r-bang
came a shell from the enemy which passed within two feet of him. He
drew back, pale, and looking frightened enough; but, rallying, he
proceeded a few yards further; but, just as he had found another
opening, one of our batteries sent a discharge ripping through the
woods just in front of him again, when, thinking, probably, he had
gone far enough in that direction, he came to the right about, and
sought the path I pointed out to him in the first place.
Our regiment was withdrawn about one hundred yards to the rear,
ordered to lay down, and remained there under fire for three hours.
We had, however, time to smoke, and take a survey of the battle-field
on our left. The batteries were thundering away, and the regiments
which were ordered in on the left of the road (among which were the
23d, 44th and 45th), were tiring rapidly, and losing heavily, if
one could form a judgment from the way in which the ambulance corps
were carrying the wounded to the rear. Not only did the infantry
suffer from the fire of the enemy, but the batteries which were most
advanced suffered their share of the casualties.
A sergeant, of Belger's battery I think, was in the act of
dismounting from his horse, when a shot or shell passed through the
animal, and hit the sergeant, tearing the left side completely out of
him.
One of our men wishing to have a better view of some object in his
front, elevated his head, and opened his mouth, when a rifle ball
passed into the cavity, and out at the back of his neck, the first
intimation of which we had was a stream of blood spirting out of his
mouth.
Major John G. Chambers was in command of the 23d, and marched his
men in under fire; then formed them in line of battle, and I could
not help noticing the extreme coolness of this officer in giving the
order, in a deliberate voice--
"Captains of companies, see to your allinements."
Before the engagement had any sign of abating, the 17th were ordered
to take up the advance for Goldsboro. We had to pass across the
battle-ground under fire every step of the way; but, strange to say,
no casualties occurred during this movement. We halted opposite the
house which constituted the city or town of Whitehall, when we were
accosted by an enthusiastic but prudent defender of his country, who
had taken shelter in the lee of the house, safe from the enemy's
bullets, who exclaimed:
"I say, boys, aint we giving 'em hell?"
Bestowing upon the hero a few 'O you be d--ds,' we resumed our march,
and soon left the fierce cannonade far behind us.
The battle of Whitehall was little more than an artillery-duel, and
would be deserving only of a few lines of record if it occurred on
the Potomac or the Rapidan. I think, in the engagement, which lasted
about four and a half hours, there must have been a great deal of
lead wasted and iron thrown away on our side. The only sensible
impression made by our projectiles, that we could see, was upon the
frame of a gunboat on the stocks at the other side of the river
(intended for an iron-clad), and this was certainly riddled up in
fine style.
The mention of the gunboat, or frame of one, puts me in mind of a
daring act performed the evening previous to the battle by one of the
3d New York cavalry. He stripped off, swam the river, and was in the
act of setting the gunboat on fire, when he was discovered and fired
upon, and had to dive into the river, leaving his work undone, and
swim back again amid a perfect shower of bullets, not one of which,
strange to relate, touched him.
The loss on our side at Whitehall was about 30 killed and 120 wounded.
Our regiment was followed by the 9th New Jersey and others, until
all the infantry were under full headway, leaving only a battery
and a company of cavalry to engage the attention of the enemy until
nightfall.
We continued our march to within about five miles of Steep Creek, and
eight of the Wilmington Railroad, and halted for the night.
On Wednesday morning our regiment, followed by the 9th New Jersey,
again took up the advance, and proceeded cautiously along to within
about two miles of the railroad, where, as we came out upon the brow
of a hill, we could see about a mile in our front the gleaming of the
enemy's arms, as they slowly withdrew. Our advance companies came
up with them, and quite a lively skirmish ensued, in which Sergeant
Hardy of Co. F was mortally wounded.
Lt. Col. Fellows seemed in his element, and went on even in advance
of the skirmishers.
A battery had been planted on the hill just mentioned, and commenced
shelling the retreating rebels.
We advanced through a wood, skirting the mill pond, and, just on the
further edge of the wood, where we struck the county road, we came
upon a deserted rebel camp, the fires still burning, and in the ashes
of which many roasted sweet potatoes were found.
After a short halt, we advanced along the county road which crossed
the railroad about a mile to the south of the railroad bridge over
the Neuse river, on arriving at which place abundant evidences were
manifest of a hasty preparation to receive us, abandoned in greater
haste, the hoes and shovels used in making rifle-pits and breastworks
being left in confusion along the track. Axes were immediately
brought into requisition, the telegraph posts cut down and the wires
destroyed.
We halted a few minutes just beyond the railroad, and, two companies
being sent out as skirmishers to the left, took up our march on the
track towards the bridge, which it was the purpose of the expedition
to destroy.
This bridge was a magnificent structure, about 200 feet long, and is
said to have taken twelve months to build.
The 17th had proceeded but a quarter of the distance, however, when
they were opened upon by a battery placed on the track across the
bridge, which, having the exact range of our position sent shot and
shell into us with terrible accuracy.
The track was immediately cleared, the regiment dividing, taking each
side of the railroad, (the bed of which there rose to an elevation
of about ten feet,) and gradually advanced towards the bridge. The
fire from the battery and sharpshooters on each side of the railroad,
became so continuous and heavy that it was difficult to tell whether
moving along or laying still was most dangerous; but we kept pressing
on, returning the fire as best we could. Our firing was rapid, but,
though the bullets flew into where the enemy were supposed to be, yet
I doubt if they did much execution.
While advancing cautiously onward, and during one of those pauses in
our progress rendered prudent by the iron and leaden hail directed
against us, an incident occurred, which impressed me at the time as
being truly ludicrous. A Co. K man, named Gately, who was hugging
the side of the railroad with commendable zeal, was approached by a
rebel of the canine species, which, with that instinct that often
approaches to reason, and is at times wonderfully developed in this
species of animal, seemed to realize that he was in the midst of
danger, and sought the nearest place of shelter. For this purpose, he
insinuated himself between the soldier and the ground. The man not
relishing the companionship, from prudential reasons, no doubt--an
inch of elevation in the position he then was affording so much of an
additional mark for bullets or erratic pieces of shell,--endeavored
to dislodge him, saying--
"Clear out of this, d--n you!"
But the dog would not stay repulsed, and again returned.
"Give him the butt of the musket!" suggested Phil. Mealley, (another
of Co. K's men), "knock him over into the ditch!"
This suggestion was acted upon, and the dog driven off.
As we were marching down the railroad in the first place, and when
the enemy opened upon us, the cry was raised among the men--Billy
Patterson's stentorian voice being among the loudest--
"Unfurl the flag!"
"Let the d--d rebs see what we fight under!"
"Show them our colors!"
A man named Carney, of Co. I, who was color-sergeant, immediately
responded to the call, and shook out the folds of the old 'star
spangled banner;' and there he stood on the railroad track, alone,
for half an hour, a mark for the enemy's sharpshooters; but, strange
to relate, though two of the color guard who were lying down behind
him were wounded, and the old flag riddled with bullets, he received
not a scratch. This act of true bravery, no matter how ill-advised it
might have been, is, I think, deserving of a record, and the honor
of this deed should be given to the man who so nobly faced death
while upholding his country's flag.
Having progressed in the manner described about half a mile, somebody
gave the order, and every one repeated it, to form on the railroad,
and charge across the bridge--what for, except to take the battery
just beyond, which had so annoyed us, I could not understand.
Supposing however, that everything was correct, I scrambled up the
bank and took my place with the rest. Then with a shout and a cheer
we commenced the charge on the double quick; but had not proceeded
twenty yards when, from the skirt of woods bordering the field on
our left there came--tr-r-r-r-r--a volley of musketry fired by file,
followed in half a minute's time by another volley delivered at once.
(I should judge from the length of the line that no less than three
regiments fired each time). And then commenced a scene that it would
be vain to attempt a description of, especially by an actor in it. In
less time than I can relate it, every man who was not wounded, had
jumped, tumbled headlong or rolled over into the ditch at the right
of the track, and the regiment apparently thrown into the wildest
confusion. I have been told that those who witnessed the scene
thought for the moment that the 17th were cut to pieces; but were
agreeably surprised to see the brave fellows spring up again, and
commence a rapid fire upon the enemy, using the elevated bed of the
railroad as a breastwork.
There were but four or five men wounded from these volleys. The
rebels, evidently mistaking the distance (about 200 yards), and the
height of the railroad bed did not fire high enough, and most of
their bullets lodged in the bank at the left--an extremely lucky
circumstance for us all, as was also the interruption to our progress
thus given; for had we crossed the bridge few of us would ever have
returned to tell the tale.
When the sound of the first volley struck my ear, I involuntarily
turned my head to see where it came from, and I mentally
remarked--"What splendid file-firing!" But when the second volley
burst out at once, the smaller sounds uniting to swell the volume
into a deafening crash, I was too absorbed in calculations upon
whether any of the musical messengers of death singing about my
ears, were intended for my especial misfortune, and hesitating
among the confused mass of men what to do with myself, when, just
as a shell burst close over me, I received a knock on the left side
which doubled me up, and I toppled over, with the others, head heels
into the ditch. The breath was knocked out of me, but sensibility
remained; and, strange to say, while falling the short distance down
the bank, I made twice over this mental calculation--
"If the bullet [I thought it was a bullet, and went quite clean
through me, for I felt the pain equally in both sides] has not gone
through my stomach I may get over it. If it has, I'm a goner, sure."
Picking myself up, as best I could, and, with a rueful visage, I
suppose, replying to the inquiries of my comrades if I was hit, I
took off my blanket, unbuckled my belt, and proceeded to search for
the wound. I will freely acknowledge, that at this time my thoughts
were not of the most lively character; but, upon searching and
finding no wound save a painful bruise, I could have jumped for joy,
and felt better pleased than if I had come into possession of the
best plantation in North Carolina. In picking myself up after the
tumble just described, I noticed the 9th New Jersey, who had advanced
down the field to our right, retire on the order at the double-quick.
And yet, afterwards, in Gen. Foster's report, this regiment received
all the credit for what the 17th had done.
After a while Morrison's battery came thundering along, and got into
position in the field at the right of the railroad, and commenced
hurling shot and shell into the enemy in fine style.
The men were loading and firing away in splendid fashion, though I
think with questionable results, and, catching the spirit of the
occasion, I added my feeble quota to their efforts.
[Illustration]
At one time, after discharging my piece over the railroad, and
coming down to reload--the shot and shell of the enemy screaming and
bursting over and around us, they having brought a number of their
batteries to bear upon our particular position--I beheld one of our
men (a very young fellow), with his head punched into the bank;
and looking the picture of bewilderment and terror. Seeing that he
appeared unhurt, I questioned him while loading my piece:
"What's the matter? Why don't you fire?" [No answer.]
"Is your piece loaded?" "Yes."
"Then, d--n you, get up, and act like a man!"
But he was too terrified to move, and I left him in disgust, although
pitying the infirmity that should have deterred him from ever
entering the army.
I have omitted to state that half a dozen of the marines, whom we
had been guarding, had volunteered into Co. I (our smallest company
in point of numbers), and in this engagement they acted with great
gallantry. Our men were crowding the embankment towards the bridge,
and one of the marines anxious to have his share of the fun, sung
out--
"Make room for a marine, there, will you?"
"Bully for the marine!" shouted the boys, as they made way for him.
One of our fellows had taken shelter behind a log, and a
non-commissioned officer observing the act, routed him out, telling
him to go forward and do his duty. The man departed, and the officer
took his place, snugly ensconcing himself behind the log.
Lt. Col. Fellows was continually going up and down the line,
encouraging his men, showing them by his example a pattern of the
most fearless bravery.
Lieut. Graham, of the Artillery, went forward with combustibles to
fire the bridge, but soon returned pell-mell, jumping behind a log,
exclaiming--
"D--n them, they won't give a fellow the ghost of a chance out there!"
An order then came to form into line, and I thought it a case of
particular hardship in taking up my place in the ranks to have to
stand upon a log, which elevated me about two feet above my comrades,
and thereby exposed me more to the flying shot and shell of our own
batteries, as well as those of the enemy; for our own shells were
bursting just over us, and Morrison's battery was belching forth its
destructive missiles just above our heads.
The order was given, and we marched out from behind the embankment,
and were halted in the rear of Morrison's battery, and ordered to lie
down in a hollow made by taking earth for the bed of the railroad.
The rebels seemed to have the exact range of the position, and the
way the shell and solid shot scattered and tore up the earth about
us, and in our midst, was a caution. Col. Fellows alone stood, and
some of the officers were remonstrating with him upon the rashness of
thus exposing himself, when a shell at that moment came screaming by,
apparently within a few feet of his head--
"Phew! there she goes!" exclaimed Col. Fellows; and replying to the
officers, he said--"Well, it appears to me, that it is just as safe
standing here, as lying down; if a man is to be hit, he'll be hit
lying down as well as in any other position!"
"Poor philosophy, Colonel," I thought, "but very inspiriting words."
Lieut. Barnabas F. Mann then came forward, with a bundle of prepared
combustibles in his hands, and called for two volunteers to accompany
him to the bridge, to operate with another party in an endeavor to
fire the same. The men were instantly forthcoming, of course, and the
trio started on their dangerous errand. We watched them with anxiety,
and saw them gain the bridge amid a perfect death-shower of bullets,
one of which, unfortunately, hit our brave Lieut. Mann on the plate
of his belt, causing a severe contused wound. They returned with
the wounded officer, reporting that they did not succeed in their
enterprise; but were mistaken, as will be seen presently.
Faint cheers were now heard from the rebels, and on looking to
ascertain the cause, it was discovered that a train had arrived with
reinforcements, which could be seen rapidly defiling from the cars
and forming in line of battle across the railroad. Capt. Morrison
learning this, immediately jumped upon the railroad, and directed the
fire of his battery. The first shell fired fell rather to the left of
the rebel line. The second fell in their midst almost on the railroad
track, and the way they scattered into the woods was amusing.
A 'monitor' or battery came up with this train, and immediately
commenced shelling us, every shell bursting directly above our heads.
At the third fire from Morrison's battery, the shell exploded the
engine, and a column of white smoke shot up into the air, carrying
with it, no doubt, the lives of many poor rebels.
The enemy's fire began to slacken, and just as another attempt was
about to be made to fire the bridge, smoke could be seen issuing from
it, and soon the whole structure was wrapped in flames. The most
important part of the work was accomplished.
In the meantime the work of tearing up the rails and sleepers of the
railroad, and setting them on fire, was efficiently performed by
the gallant 5th Mass. regiment and the New York Cavalry, the latter
destroying another railroad bridge about two miles north of the
great bridge; and when the fight was concluded I had time to notice
the smoke of hundreds of fires, extending as far as the eye could
reach on the bed of the road, indicating how completely the work of
demolition had been accomplished.
Our regiment then marched out from under fire, and were received with
cheers from all the other regiments that had come up to our support.
We then took up the advance on the return movement; but had not
proceeded far, when we heard firing, and cheers of men, indicating
that the fighting was not yet over, and soon an order reached us to
halt. We were formed in line of battle, in case the forces in front
would be compelled to retreat; but after a half hour's suspense in
this position, were ordered again to the scene of our late labors,
where we arrived in time to see the tail end of the fight, and to
find we were not needed.
It appears that just after we had retired from the field, and towards
sunset, the rebels having crossed the county bridge, some two or
three miles above, to the number of three or four thousand, came
down and charged across the railroad upon battery B, 3d New York
Artillery. They formed in three lines of battle and came on with a
terrible swoop intending to crush all before them.
The captain of the battery ordered his pieces to be loaded with
double charge of grape and canister, and when they came within about
sixty yards, sent a hail storm into their midst which mowed them
down like grass, and before they could rally or fly, sent another
discharge into them which threw them into such confusion that they
incontinently fled, and were seen no more. The 5th Massachusetts was
supporting this battery, and received great praise for its gallant
behaviour. About forty prisoners were taken, and if the artillery
supports had charged, no doubt many more would have been captured.
Our aid not being required, we went to the right about, and again
took up the backward track; but though night had fallen on the scene,
our way was not in darkness; for, some of the men--stragglers,
perhaps--of the advanced regiments, had amused themselves in setting
the woods on fire, on each side of the road. The scene was grand.
The huge pitch-pines, which had been stripped to obtain the gum,
from which turpentine and rosin were made, were ignited, and burned
fiercely, and lined our road on either side like flaming sentinels.
The underbrush had also caught, as well as the dried leaves, and
with their volume of light added, rendered our pathway as clear and
distinct as if the noonday sun poured down his burning beams. The
heavy and regular tread of the marching battalions; the rumbling of
the artillery and the baggage wagons and ambulances; the braying of
mules; the confused hum of voices; the occasional cry of pain from
the wounded men; the fierce, flaming, crackling, and cracking of the
trees on fire; the occasional crashes of the falling giants of the
forest; and the illuminated cloud of smoke which hung over all, made
up a picture of sight and sound that, once witnessed, can never be
forgotten.
I was tired, weary, bruised, and exhausted, and felt truly glad
when we halted for the night, which we did in the same place we had
bivouacked the night previous.
We resumed our march next morning; but I could not keep up, and
arrived at the bivouac long after the regiment had stacked arms. But
on emerging from the wood in full view of the encampment, I beheld
a sight which was the grandest I ever witnessed. The ground rose to
a considerable elevation from and on each side of the road, on both
sides of which were encamped the infantry, cavalry and artillery. I
could see the long lines of bivouac fires extending to the woods on
either side, and the swarthy visages of the men as they moved around,
or gathered about the fires, smoking and talking over the events
of the day; and, what with the braying of mules and the barking of
isolated and astonished dogs, there came a hum from the host that
resembled the murmuring of 'many waters.' Added to this sight of
magnificence the surrounding woods on fire, and the crashing of
falling trees and branches, which might lead to the delusion that
quite a number of small skirmishes were going on at the same time,
and you will have some faint idea of the picture that met my gaze. To
one unacquainted with military matters, looking upon that scene, it
would appear that instead of an army of fifteen or twenty thousand
men, there were at least double or treble that number encamped before
him.
On our return, we were accompanied by a goodly number of escaped
slaves, and any one who beheld the processions of these escaped
bondmen--and they were dotted all through and along the line--men,
women and children, and witnessed the patient and even cheerful
manner in which they toiled along, with all they could hastily gather
up in their flight, would be convinced that their love of liberty
was prompted by more than an indefinite idea of the blessings of
independence. I could not help occasionally smiling at the grotesque
appearance of some of the females, who had, apparently, left the
more useful articles of their own wardrobe, to indulge in the
inevitable female taste for finery and gewgaws, by 'confiscating'
and bringing off in triumph some of their late mistresses' finery.
Some were apparently unmarried, and they carried the largest amount
of 'plunder,' while those who had children to carry or look after,
could not bring more than a few necessaries of life, and, perhaps,
a bed-quilt or blanket. Some had mules or carts; but the majority
were on foot. After a tedious and toilsome march of over three days,
in which no enemy annoyed our flanks, front or rear, we arrived in
Newbern, as 'hard' a looking set of men as probably ever entered that
city before. We were thankful, however, that our toils and fighting
were over for the present, at least, and enjoyed the short repose
granted us, ere we resumed our duty as provost guard of Newbern.
The 17th regiment continued in the city until the 26th of January,
1863, when it was relieved by the 45th, and went into barracks near
the old county bridge across the Trent river. Here the regiment was
engaged in doing picket duty, and constructing earthworks under the
superintendence of Major Frankle, in which latter duty they were
assisted by the 43d Mass., encamped near by.
The winter wore away heavily enough, but was enlivened by occasional
dancing assemblies in the different companies' quarters, each
emulating the other in the taste displayed in their decoration.
On the 14th of March (the anniversary of the battle of Newbern),
the enemy made an attack upon an entrenched camp of two regiments
of Wessells' brigade, across the Neuse river, and at the same time
attempted to shell the city; but the gunboat Hunchback coming to the
rescue, they were driven off. The affair was a fizzle on the part of
the enemy, although from a sketch of it which I have seen in one of
the New York illustrated papers, the public might be led to suppose
it was most sanguinary and terrible.
I omitted to mention, in the proper place, the departure on the 7th
of Feb'y, '63, of an expedition composed of a portion of the 18th
Army Corps and Gen. Peck's Division of the Army of the Potomac, which
arrived from Norfolk in January. This expedition, upon which so much
was counted, proved a failure, owing to a disagreement between Gens.
Foster and Hunter as to which general should have the chief command
and direction of affairs in the operations against Charleston; and,
as Foster could not have his own way, he withdrew a considerable
portion of his forces, and with them returned to North Carolina in
March.
About the first of April, the rebel Generals Hill and Garnett, with
about fifteen thousand troops invested Little Washington, and erected
batteries so as to command the approaches by water. Gen. Foster
arrived the day it was invested, and great fears were entertained
for his safety as well as that of the garrison. The rebels commenced
a vigorous bombardment of the position, but after fifteen days
pounding, and being pounded in turn, they fell back, and raised the
siege. During all this time we could distinctly hear the sound of the
cannonade, although the scene of conflict was fifteen or twenty miles
distant.
On the 7th of April, the 17th formed part of an expedition undertaken
for the relief of the besieged city; but upon approaching a place
called Blounts' Mills, the enemy was discovered in force strongly
entrenched. A severe skirmish ensued, the 17th losing seven men and
an officer wounded, when the position being found too strong, the
troops were withdrawn, and the expedition returned, without having
accomplished anything. The expedition renewed its attempt on the 17th
of April, and reached Washington on the 22d, without opposition, the
enemy having previously withdrawn.
On the 27th, the 17th with the other regiments of the brigade,
including the 45th Mass., started on an expedition to Green Swamp,
upon the railroad leading to Kinston. On the 28th, at a place called
Sandy Ride, near Cove or Cole Creek, the enemy were encountered, and
the 45th advanced towards where they were entrenched, and would, no
doubt have driven them out in fine style, for the 45th was really
a good fighting regiment, but the Col. (Codman) hesitated, not
from fear, I think, but ill-judged prudence, when two companies of
the 17th were ordered up by Lt. Col. Fellows, and marched into the
enemy's works, which they found abandoned. The expedition returned to
its bivouac of the night previous, amidst a drenching rain, having
marched nineteen miles in nine hours.
On the 5th of July, the 17th formed part of an expedition under Gen.
Heckman, and proceeded to Warsaw, where they made some important
captures of rebel stores, and destroyed salt works, &c.
On the 1st of October, the 17th again assumed the provost duty of
Newbern, relieving the 27th Mass., where it has, I believe, remained
ever since.
The rebels had during the winter of 1863, made several feints upon
Newbern, and drove in our pickets at various times, but never
approached nearer the city than ten miles. During the Fall of
'63, after the nine months troops had been all withdrawn from the
department, their time having expired, the comparatively small
garrison had been still further depleted by Gen. Butler (who
succeeded Gen. Foster as department commander) for the purpose of
strengthening other posts. The rebels fully aware of this, determined
upon the capture of Newbern, and, during January, collected a
force of 15,000 or 20,000 men at Kinston, and on the 26th, reached
our outposts, which they drove in. About 114 men of the various
companies of the 17th under command of Lieut. Col. Fellows, went
to the assistance of the pickets at Batchelder's Creek, and on the
1st of Feb. were attacked by an overwhelming force of rebels, and
lost eight officers and fifty men taken prisoners, and one killed
and four wounded. Among the prisoners were Lieut. Col. Fellows,
Adjutant Cheever (wounded), Capt. Lloyd (wounded), and Lieuts. B.
F. Mann and Comins. But the rebs didn't get Newbern, although they
captured Plymouth and its brave commander (Gen. Wessells), and the
heroic garrison under his command. And after all the blood shed in
the efforts to hold Little Washington, it has been abandoned to the
enemy. Let us hope that the same policy will not be pursued in the
case of Newbern, which is certainly one of the most important and
strongly fortified posts held by our army on the coast.
I was taken sick in April, and sent down to Beaufort with thirty
or forty other sick men. We took the cars at Newbern, and in
about three hours were transported from the heat and dust of the
interior to the cool, bracing air of the sea coast. On the way down
I noticed that the country we passed through seemed little better
than a continuation of swamps. We passed Havelock station, where a
block-house had been erected in the midst of a swamp, and I pitied
the poor fellows whose duty it would be to garrison that post during
the coming warm season. Further on we came to clearing, and saw a
line of breastworks behind which it was intended to dispute the
advance of Burnside's forces in their march from Slocum's Creek to
Newbern, but which he drove them from with little trouble. Newport
Barracks, about ten miles from Morehead City, was a collection of
some dozen houses, and the quarters of the cavalry and infantry
pickets in that section. Carolina City was next reached, but where
the city was I couldn't for the life of me make out. It was not
anything like so grand a place as Newport Barracks, and I should
not have known of its whereabouts but for the camp of the 23d Mass.,
which was said to be in the city. We next passed through Morehead
City to the railroad terminus or wharf, about a mile further on.
Morehead consists of one or two hotels, and forty or fifty houses
and stores. A number of steamers and transports were laying at and
off the railroad wharf. To the south, across the sound, I beheld
Fort Macon, and anchored abreast of it and inside the sound were
ships of all descriptions, from the captured blockade runner to the
huge blockaders which were taking their rest and preparing to resume
their dangerous duties off Wilmington, relieving in turn some other
blockader. The city of Beaufort lay to the eastward, and looked much
larger than it really was, and quite imposing.
While waiting for transportation, and looking at the various objects
of interest around, my eye lit upon an individual (a sergeant in
the--Mass.) whom I instantly recognized as having seen at Camp
Cameron, whither he had been detailed to gather up recruits. But
what a change had been wrought in his appearance! When I saw
him at Cambridge he was full of life, spirit, confidence, and
business--and drove a profitable trade there in the retail of porter,
ale, &c. (under the rose, of course.) Now he looked cheerless and
forlorn--utterly 'played out,' and as anxious as the most peacefully
inclined rebel that 'this cruel war' should be ended. Hard marching,
hard beds, hard usage, hard fighting and hard tack, had evidently
left their mark upon him. And yet he was not sick--only dispirited a
little.
A boat being at length in readiness we embarked, and after an hour's
sail reached the Hammond Hospital at Beaufort. This hospital was
in a building or series of buildings formerly known as Pender's
Hotel, and was one of the most considerable and extensive of its
class in Beaufort, and before the war was the summer residence of
many planters and their families from the interior who made this
city their watering place. The main structure was built out upon
the shore, on piles, so that the tide ebbed and flowed under it,
and was altogether one of the most delightful places I have seen
in that section. The former owner (Pender) was among the first and
most active in the secession movement in North Carolina, and, with
a company of men he had raised in Beaufort, took possession of Fort
Macon; but Burnside came along, and after taking Newbern, Morehead
City and Beaufort, leisurely proceeded to knock him and his fellow
traitors and their arrangements into a 'cocked hat,' and Pender was
taken prisoner and forced to leave his fine hotel, with its plate,
furniture and bedding, behind him; and the story went that the
negroes, the poor whites who remained, and some of the officers of a
Rhode Island regiment divided the spoils.
The city of Beaufort is well laid out and looks quite pleasant
from the water; but though there are a few good dwellings and
some old-fashioned stores, the houses are scattering and the sand
ankle-keep in the streets. In fact, the city is built upon a bank
of sand; and how the inhabitants managed to cultivate gardens was
a mystery to me--but they did make gardens, and in some instances
very creditable ones. The soil, however, seemed too sandy for any
fruit trees but the fig, which flourished in great plenty. The
majority of the people--who, I judge, never exceeded two thousand in
number--seemed to live by fishing and gathering shells. Beaufort is
so situated within the folds of a marsh, and the approaches to it are
so intricate and shallow, that it can never become a place of any
great commercial importance--Morehead City will be its successful
rival in that respect.
We (that is, the sick men) were assisted to land, and, after our
names were checked and our surgeons' certificates or assignments
deposited, shown to our ward room; and, to tell the truth, we had no
cause to complain of our new quarters, which were pleasantly situated
in the main building, commanding an extensive view of the harbor and
the sea beyond. The beds were really good--but to us poor devils who
had known nothing of the kind since leaving home, they appeared truly
luxurious. A little experience in the productions of the culinary
department of the hospital, however, did not impress us so favorably
with that part of the programme. The bread was often hard and mouldy,
and the beef as solid as a frozen turnip and salt as Lot's wife. As
for the soup, it was whispered around that it was nothing but sea
water in which salt junk was boiled, and a few carpenters' shavings
thrown in for vegetables--it was called 'salt-water soup.' Of fresh
meat I never tasted any in the hospital, while of fish and oysters,
which were in great abundance in the market, I did not have more than
two meals during the four weeks I was in hospital. When we complained
to our fellow patients of the fare, they told us it was much better
than it had been.
A few days after our arrival we were called up to undergo examination
by the hospital surgeon, Dr. Ainsworth. In answer to one of his
queries, we all told him we liked our quarters very well, but
complained about the poor quality of the 'grub.'
When Tom McNally (the hero of the kicking mare) came up, Dr.
Ainsworth asked--
"Well--what's the matter with you, sir?"
"O nothing particular," replied Tom.
"What were you sent here for, then?"
"Why--to recruit my health, I suppose."
"Ah--I see. I think you'd better go back to your regiment. I send
some others off tomorrow, and you can go with them."
"I'd just as soon go now, sir."
"No. You can't go till I send you."
"Well, for God's sake, give me something to eat while I am here!"
returned Tom.
"Here," said the doctor to the clerk, "make out papers for this man,
and have him sent off immediately!" Then, taking another sip from a
glass on the counter beside him, which looked like whisky, he added--
"These 17th men seem hard to please. I shouldn't wonder if they
boarded at the Revere House before they came into the army!"
That the hospital at Beaufort was not well conducted, I could plainly
see, though to a visitor everything seemed to work well. And I was
reminded of a reply made to an observation of mine to one of the
patients in a general hospital at Newbern, that everything seemed
favorable to the comfort and recovery of the sick--"Ah," he replied,
"what you see is all very well--but there are many things you don't
see!"
It was so with the Hammond Hospital at Beaufort. A pack of idle,
worthless fellows, in the enjoyment of the most robust health--who
should have been doing duty with their regiments in the field--were
employed as clerks and orderlies, who, by a system of espionage
upon the actions of the men and of persecution to all who incurred
their displeasure, exercised a kind of petty tyranny which made them
obnoxious but at the same time feared. These understrappers, while
the patients were often deprived of some of the most common and
desirable necessaries, reveled in the choicest dishes and delicacies
to be obtained, including wines and preserves. This I have seen
myself, and mentally contrasted it with the coarse fare of the poor
patients who were forced to swallow the barely parboiled salt junk
and dry bread, and the abominable milkless and unsweetened slops
dignified with the name of tea or coffee.
And yet there was one man in authority, who seemed to do all in
his power to remedy the too palpable evils. This was the assistant
surgeon, Dr. Vaughan--a New Yorker, I believe. He was a kind, humane
man--and to his exertions were due, in a great measure, the reforms
that had been made in affairs. I have seen him day after day in the
kitchen enforcing a reform in its arrangements; and I noticed, too,
that on such occasions our meals were so much better than usual as to
elicit remarks of satisfaction from the partakers.
'Red tape,' I presume, is indispensable in the conduct of all affairs
pertaining to Government; but no where does its knotted folds tighten
with more deadly effects around the destiny of its victims than in
the hospitals. Hundreds die in the hospitals every year, who, if
transferred to their homes at the North, might recover--if not, they
would at least have the consolation of dying among their friends,
which is the least that might be accorded by the Government to the
poor fellows who become disabled in its service; but as they can not
be sent North without a discharge from the service, and often while
the discharge papers are passing through the tedious processes of
signature ('the mill of the gods grinds slowly') the unfortunate
patient becomes impatient, fretful and gloomy at the delay, and that
'hope deferred which maketh the heart sick' in many cases increases
the virulence of the disease or brings on a relapse--and the poor
fellow, so lately warmed with the pleasing hope of seeing once more
his friends and his home, closes forever in blank despair his eyes in
the bitterness of death.
[Since the above was written, I find that, through the efforts of
Governors of different States and other good men in power, this evil
has been partially remedied. I would respectfully but earnestly call
the attention of those in power--and especially our good Governor
of Massachusetts, who has always been the soldier's friend--to
the adoption of some system whereby all sick men who will bear
transportation can be sent home to their friends, and by this means
thousands of lives may be saved.]
I will instance a case in point, to show the fatal effects of delay
in the matter of discharges of sick men. A young man, named Palmer,
who belonged to a New York regiment, was sent to the hospital at
Beaufort, very sick from chronic dysentery. It was thought by the
surgeons, after they had treated his case for a while, that nothing
could save his life but a change to a more northern climate; but
this could not be effected without a discharge. They interested
themselves, however, and the discharge papers were forthcoming in an
unusually short space of time. The poor fellow, buoyed with the hope
of again seeing his friends, rallied a little, and actually gained
considerably in strength; but just as he had got on board the boat
at the wharf, which was to take him with a squad of other discharged
men to the steamer in waiting, an order came from the surgeon that
he must return, as there was some informality in his papers, and a
new set would have to be made out. The poor fellow returned; but the
shock occasioned by the disappointment was too much for his enfeebled
constitution to bear. A relapse ensued, and in a few days he was
a corpse--the victim of 'red tape,' or incompetency, or criminal
carelessness--which?
I have said the understrappers at the hospital made a 'good thing'
out of the necessities of the patients. They did more. The whisky
intended for hospital uses was not only used by them, but frequently
disposed of to the man-o'-war's men, who paid liberally for the same.
The loss to the hospital (or rather the patients) was made up in this
wise: When a pail-full of whisky was drawn from the cask, it was said
that an equal quantity of water was thrown in--so that when the cask
got pretty well down from the withdrawal of the legitimate supplies
for hospital use, it was remarked by the patients that they got water
diluted with whisky, instead of whisky weakened with water as in the
earlier stages of this peculiar process.
There were many other things in the management of this hospital open
to criticism--though, doubtless, the fault did not always lay at
the door of the surgeon in charge. For example--there was quite a
large number of disabled men, whose discharge papers had been made
out and sent to headquarters for signature, but had been kept back
two, three, and even six months--for no reason whatever save some
contemptible quibble or pretense that these papers were not made out
correctly. Here were a large number of men unfit for any duty--some
of them permanently disabled, others in the last stages of decline,
and all anxious to be sent home as soon as possible, since they could
be of no further use to and only a burthen upon the Government--kept
against their own wishes, at a heavy public expense, and all because
Dr. So-and-so, or Medical Director Bobolink, or their understrappers,
were too indolent or careless to do their duty properly. Many of
the nine-months men who had become disabled and were placed in the
hospitals for discharge, were retained for some time after their
regiments had been mustered out of service. No doubt it is a good and
a very charitable thing to retain disabled men in hospitals whose
discharge therefrom would throw them upon the charity of the world;
but cases of this kind are very rare. Nearly all have friends who
would willingly care for them, or belong to communities who have
providently considered such contingent demands upon their charity,
and made liberal arrangements to that end. In any case, I believe the
condition of such men would be eminently improved by a transfer to
the North--either to their friends or to some convalescent hospital
or home for disabled soldiers.
I have now drawn towards the close of my narrative, and find that,
instead of having room left for an elaborate essay (were I capable
of writing one) upon the condition, character and habits of the
freedmen, I have only space for a few general remarks. I do not
regret this, however, when I reflect that there are many others
better qualified for such a task than me.
In the course of my experience with the contrabands, I have been
favorably impressed with their capacity for becoming a free people.
The negroes seem, as a general thing, to possess a superior vitality
to the white men of the South; for, with comparatively poor domestic
arrangements and an inferior style of nutriment, they seem to thrive
better and be capable of greater endurance and more continued
physical exertion. They display a thirst for knowledge--a desire
for information--an indomitable faculty of acquisitiveness, and a
superior power of imitation, which must lead the social philosopher
to but one conclusion, viz., their eminent fitness for advancement
in the social scale from the position of bondmen to that of freemen.
And the necessity of some such change in the social condition of the
negroes of the South cannot but be too apparent to every fair-minded
man who has beheld the universal manifestations of the desire for
freedom displayed by them. They are endowed with a temperament at
once docile and energetic, light and serious. They have considerable
aptitude for the mechanic arts, and are probably, some of them, the
best practical farmers of the South. They are generally moral and
deeply impressed with the sacredness of religion; but it is true at
the same time that they have many petty vices--and the wonder is,
that under so debasing a system they have any virtues at all. Of the
length, breadth and depth of their mental capacity I do not pretend
to judge--all white men are not equal in that respect; and I trust
I am not one of those who believe that nothing good can come out of
Nazareth. As to the radical mental and physical difference which is
said to exist between the black and the mulatto, I must confess I
could never perceive it--there are the weak, puny and imbecile of
both shades of color, at well as the strong and active, intelligent
and energetic.
It cannot be denied that, above all other things, the negroes have
an unbounded desire for freedom--extravagant only in the risks it
will cause them to run to obtain that boon; for, once free, they are
content--nay, happy--to begin on the most humble scale to climb the
ladder of fortune. They are very domestic in their habits, and where
they can find no habitation ready for them when they come into our
lines, will set to work, and with such materials as very few white
men would make available, erect a hut--not an elaborate one, to be
sure, but all sufficient for their humble wants.
In and around Newbern I should judge there were from 5,000 to 8,000
escaped slaves, and of that number at least one half were located in
camps or collections of huts of their own construction in different
localities adjacent. There was one of those on the left of the Trent
road, near Fort Totten; another near Fort Spinola on the other side
of the Trent river, and a third just across the railroad bridge and
to the left of the railroad.
This latter village, inhabited by over one thousand negroes of all
ages and sexes, was under the supervision of Mr. G. R. Kimball,
of Nashua, N. H. (Mr. K. was formerly Sutler of the 17th.) Upon
expressing a desire to learn some facts in regard to the negroes
under his charge, he kindly offered to give me all the facts in his
possession.
The adult negroes under Mr. Kimball's charge were all in the employ
of the Government--the females were engaged in cooking, washing, and
making pies and sweetmeats, for which they found a ready sale among
the soldiers. "And a more contented and happy lot of mortals," said
Mr. K., "you can not find anywhere." This I verified from a personal
inspection.
Among other places I visited the village school. It was kept by a
negro named Mack Bourne, and contained twenty-five pupils. When I
entered, Mack did not seem pleased at the intrusion, and said--
"Look here, sojer--I dusent want any body in de sojer business to
come in here; for d'oder day one of you sojer men--he cum'd in here,
and he stole a testament from me--he did--a bran new one, too--and I
don't like sich work--I don't!"