DEPARTMENT OF THE GULF--NEW ORLEANS--HOW OFFICIAL DIGNITY WAS
VINDICATED BY A CAT-O'-NINE-TAILS--NEW IBERIA--VERMILLIONVILLE--
CHAIN-VIDETTE--"BOWERS' CHARGE"--HOW ED BAKER WON HIS SPURS--REPULSE
OF GENERALS LUCAS AND FRANKLIN--IMPROVISED CAVALRY--DEATH OF CROSBY
--SUPERIOR ARMS OF CONFEDERATES--BRILLIANT CAPTURE OF CONFEDERATE
DETACHMENT--COMMENDED BY GENERAL ORDER--OUTRAGE COMMITTED BY BANKS
AND FRANKLIN IN CONFISCATING HORSES--COWARDLY MANNER OF ITS
PERPETRATION--RE-ENLISTMENT--VETERAN FURLOUGH--RETURN TO THE FRONT.
"Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stoopt to the
spade."--_Defense of Lucknow._
The surrender of Vicksburg was quickly followed by the news of the
Union victory at Gettysburg which occurred on the same day, and in a
short time we heard of the fall of Port Hudson which, with its garrison
of 8,000, was given up by its commander three days later upon being
assured of the fall of Vicksburg. This left the Union forces in the
possession of the Mississippi from its source to its mouth. It began to
look like the beginning of the end.
Our company remained at Vicksburg until about the middle of August. A
number of our men were sick. Shortly after the beginning of the siege,
two of them, Robert McAdams and Smith Wheeler, died of malarial fever.
Morgan Haymaker and Leroy Herbert had died before the company left
Memphis.
General Grant was about to leave for the Eastern army and our company
was ordered to the Department of the Gulf. Upon our arrival we were
detailed as an escort to General Ord at New Orleans where we remained
for three or four weeks, when we received orders to join our regiment
at New Iberia, Louisiana.
At New Orleans, I was detailed as orderly at General Ord's
headquarters. He occupied a part of a large plantation mansion in the
outskirts of Carlton, Louisiana. While at this place I again had an
experience which opened my eyes, not only to the horrors of slavery,
but to the brutality of some of our own officers who were only too
willing when opportunity offered, to adopt the worst features of that
wretched institution when they could be used for their own tyrannical
purposes.
The place was very old and bore evidence of opulence and aristocratic
antecedents. Surrounding the house was a spacious yard filled with
bearing orange trees, some of which were unusually large. It was a
charming and delightful spot and suggested the peace and contentment of
a real Arcadia.
As I lounged around the place, the thought uppermost in my mind was,
how was it possible that a people blessed with such surroundings could
cause or in any way tolerate a devastating war, such as was being
waged? The answer soon came in concrete form.
In the yard, fronting the house, there were a number of tents occupied
by the Adjutant General and his staff. A negro had committed some
trifling offense which had aroused the ire of three of the staff
officers, one of whom was Major Seward, General Ord's Adjutant
General,--who was reputed to have been a nephew of William H.
Seward,--and two others whose names I did not know.
While sitting alone beneath a tree, the overseer of the plantation, a
creole of the Simon Legree type, with all the diabolical vindictiveness
of generations of evil ancestors shining from his malignant reptilian
eyes, appeared leading a large, finely formed intelligent looking
negro. The man's arms were bound together in front and a strong rope
was tied to each arm above the elbow. The overseer led his victim to a
large orange tree standing near the Adjutant's tent and proceeded to
lash him to the tree with his face towards it. The poor creature was
the picture of abject terror and trembled from head to foot. I was
about to interfere, when Major Seward and the two other officers came
out of their tents with camp-stools in their hands and, with an air of
expectancy, silently seated themselves, as if they well understood what
was about to occur. I looked on with surprise and wrath. I could not
believe my eyes.
The negro's body was bare to the hips, and the overseer bore a peculiar
whip with a short thick stalk and a number of heavy braided lashes
about two feet in length. The bearer of the whip--a muscular brute--had
every appearance of being an adept in its use. Looking around with the
air of a stage-manager, to see that his distinguished audience was
properly composed, he commenced. The first stroke brought blood and a
cry of torture that was sickening. Then followed lash after lash until
the wielder of the whip was exhausted and literally spattered with the
red drops from his victim. When the negro was about to faint, and it
was apparently unsafe to give him another stroke, he was released and
led away by his captor, his back dripping and his skin in shreds.
The official defenders of the "honor of the flag" and the keepers of
the seals of military justice whose honor had been appeased by the
enlightening spectacle, withdrew to their tents in dignified silence
and with an apparently satisfied air.
What was the cause of the hellish act or why it was tolerated, I never
knew.
Ten or twelve of our men, whose names I have forgotten, were left in
the general hospital at New Orleans, where some of them died. We joined
our regiment about a week after leaving the latter place. It was
located in one of the most charming and beautiful sections of Dixie.
Later, it was advanced to Vermillionville, Louisiana, where we were
entertained by the music of minnie balls almost constantly until
January, 1864. The conditions there were peculiar and called for
unusual military methods and constant watchfulness in order to insure
camp protection. There were many large corn and cotton-fields which,
from neglect, were over-grown with rank weeds from seven to ten feet in
height. They made a tangle as thick as a jungle and afforded complete
concealment to the enemy. Our system of camp protection was devised and
adapted to meet these conditions. Our camp was encircled by a
chain-vidette system located at a distance therefrom of about two
miles. The men were stationed about twenty rods apart. All were
required to move at once in the same general direction to the ends of
their respective beats and then to return. This constituted each man a
rear-guard for the one in front of him. In the rear of each five or six
videttes, about forty rods back, there was stationed a relief or first
reserve. About the same distance back of these, in turn, was stationed
the second or grand reserve composed of fifteen to twenty-four men who,
in turn, were supported by a number of primary reserves, thereby
forming an elastic combination, each unit of which was in touch with
all of the others, while at the same time it provided for speedy
concentration at any threatened point.
The utmost vigilance was necessary and we were compelled to change our
lines after dark either by advancing or drawing them in. The wisdom of
this precaution was constantly demonstrated, for it became the
established custom of the "Johnnies" to give us a dose of "blue pills"
each morning as an appetizer. We always expected them and soon found
out that the term "southern hospitality," was capable of varied
application. Sometimes their attentions were forced upon us to an
annoying extent during the entire day. At such times it was not unusual
for our men to fire from twenty to forty rounds of ammunition. We were
frequently required to shoot so rapidly that our carbines became heated
and we were obliged to swab them out with brush and water before the
cartridges could be inserted. Sometimes we would call out the reserve,
charge upon and drive them off four or five miles which usually settled
it for that day.
One day Jim Bowers was Sergeant of the reserve. He had about
twenty-five or thirty boys of Company A, who had been nagging him about
his lack of courage which they pretended to question. Jim's health was
poor but it did not prevent him from being a good soldier and he always
kept a supply of courage where he could find it when needed. On the day
in question the chaffing annoyed him and he determined to give us an
object lesson. The Johnnies had appeared in unusual force. About two
hundred were in sight and more in the distance. Bowers at first seemed
to think his band too small for so large a force and sent to camp for
help. Captain Kelly started with his company but Bowers' aggressiveness
got beyond his control and he gave the command to charge. The rebels at
first showed fight but soon broke and ran. Ed Baker was one of Bowers'
party. He was mounted upon a thoroughbred of great power and endurance.
The horse and the man appeared to have been made for each other. Ed was
an athlete and every inch a soldier; as manly and lovable as he was
heroic and daring. A college graduate, he enlisted as a private with
the sole thought of doing his duty. He was regarded as the best
educated man in the regiment. There were five lawyers in our company,
but Ed outclassed them all. The only thing he did not know and never
learned, was when to stop fighting. With his powerful horse, he found
no difficulty in overtaking the flying men. He used his sword only. He
would ride a man down, capture, pass him back to his comrades and start
for another. He rode like a knight of old, keeping constantly ahead of
the charging party and upon the heels of the enemy until he
out-distanced all of his friends and found himself within a mile of the
enemy's lines, nearly sixteen miles from his own camp and facing a body
of about twelve hundred Confederates who came out to re-enforce their
friends. Then discretion came to his rescue for he realized that he
could not capture them all. Turning to retreat, he discovered that
there was not a man of his company in sight. He had ridden two miles
ahead of them. His sole chance of escape lay in the remaining strength
of his horse. It was enough however, and he won. The little party
returned to camp with their horses so jaded that several of them never
recovered from that day's work. A count showed thirty-five prisoners
captured by the little band, a goodly percentage of which was credited
to Baker, who, as a reward for his work, was given a commission as
Second Lieutenant. The charge was afterwards known as "Bowers' charge";
but Baker was the Sir Lancelot of the day.
Shortly after this incident, two of our generals, Lucas and Franklin,
decided to chastise the Confederate Generals, Green and Motaw who had a
large force in the vicinity. Our cavalry had shown such high efficiency
that they considered that the only factor necessary to success was more
cavalry. This they did not have, but it was easy to get. Cavalry was
composed of men on horseback. Why not mount the infantry? If not
enough, mount more infantry. The reasoning was sounder than the
premises but was followed enthusiastically and we were soon able to
muster about nine regiments including ours and the Sixth Missouri
Cavalry. With this force, we marched out to meet the enemy, our
regiment and the Sixth Missouri holding the center of the line upon the
main road between Vermillion and Carrion Crow Bayou. As soon as we
reached the open prairie, a line of battle was formed facing a
corresponding line of the enemy about a mile distant. The Confederates
had better guns than we and their shots reached us as we advanced. The
wings, composed of mounted infantry, soon began to fall back and to
become displaced. They were good men but as little at home on horseback
as a lands-man upon a yardarm. They could not manage their horses and
were greatly handicapped with their long guns. These gave them a
grotesque appearance which would have been ludicrous had the occasion
been less grave.
We were soon forced to retreat. The Second and Sixth fell back
alternately, forming a line upon each side of the road. In the meantime
the enemy began to rush our wings which were about a mile ahead. We
were in a sack and the foe was pouring an enfilading fire upon us. We
soon reached an open field of about eighty acres which, with the
exception of a few rods of rail fence next to the road, was almost
surrounded by a high hedge. Some rails were removed and our company
marched in and formed upon the south side of the road. It was a hot
place. The bullets zipped past our ears like a flight of hornets. Just
then the order, "Fours right," was given. I was number three and George
Crosby, the next man upon my left, was four. A ball struck his right
arm, passed through his body and out through the other arm. His horse
came around by the side of mine and I did not know that anything
unusual had occurred until Henry Knuppeneau, the next file behind me,
cried out: "Fletch, Crosby is killed!" Then we stopped and fought until
his body was taken off the field.
About half a mile further back the 132nd New York and a battery came to
our support. At the same time it was discovered that infantry was not
cavalry. The men comprising the wings were ordered to dismount and the
stampede was arrested.
I think that with two more good cavalry regiments, such, for example,
as the Fourth Missouri, Tenth Illinois, or the Third Michigan, we could
have changed a repulse into a victory and could have driven them to the
Texas line. Their arms were superior to ours and they knew it. They
would stand off and shoot indefinitely but were afraid to charge, which
is the true way to fight with cavalry. Almost any man will fight well
in a charge; if not, he is useless as a soldier. Not only is he obliged
to go with his horse, but the very dash of the thing acts as a moral
support. The horses imbibe the spirit of the men and of each other and
the whole becomes an irresistible mass like the rush of a torrent; but
the men and horses must be trained until they become a unit. A
successful cavalry force cannot be improvised.
All the Confederates whom we met in that section had fine arms. They
would throw a ball a mile with great force and accuracy and at three
quarters of a mile would often go over our lines, while ours only
served to kick up a dust a quarter of a mile ahead of the enemy, who
would shout, "A little more powder." I never saw one of their guns to
examine it, but understood that they were of French manufacture. We had
nothing in our army to compare with them. The Texas men were all armed
with these guns which must have been received through Mexico at the
instance of Maximillian or his representatives.
The enemy continued to annoy us in about the same way as long as we
remained at Vermillionville. A skirmish of half a day or a day was a
common occurrence. We remained there until the weather began to get
cold and frosty, when, late in the fall of 1863, we moved back about
twenty miles to New Iberia, which was a more secure position. Bayou
Teche served as a protection upon one side and the Gulf coast was only
about four or five miles away with intervening low lying land so
interspersed with sloughs as to render it almost impassable for an
enemy. So we were free from the constant embarrassment experienced at
Vermillionville.
After the commencement of cold weather, there were several hard rains
and a snow-storm. We were in need of supplies and Colonel Mudd, with a
force which included our company, under Lieutenant J. S. McHenry,
started out upon the Abbeville road with a view of gathering a supply
of Confederate cattle. After going about nine miles we arrived at a
small marshy creek. The Confederates had destroyed the bridge and, as
the creek was practically impassable, we set to work to construct a
bridge from some plank and stringers that were left and were soon able
to cross in single file.
The Colonel left McHenry with sixteen men to guard the bridge and
picket the approaching roadways. There was a patch of woods north of
the bridge, near which was a large house and some negro quarters. Here
we arranged for a sumptuous dinner of sweet-potatoes, roast pork and
corn-bread, which was just about to be served, when one of our pickets
rode up and said that there was a company of cavalry near the
picket-post; that they wore blue overcoats, but he thought that they
were Rebels. McHenry left three men to guard the bridge and with the
other thirteen, rode out to meet the strangers. When within about
twenty rods he asked them what their command was but received no reply.
One of the men, Waldo Aulis, who was given to playful remarks, said, "I
will just speak to them gently and see if they will answer." With that,
he fired at them and wounded a horse. The act seemed to flurry them and
they turned and trotted away. McHenry's orders to guard the bridge,
precluded him from ordering a charge; but by common impulse we made
one--shooting as we went--they returning the fire over their shoulders.
After pursuing them about a mile we ran them into a fence corner. They
turned, and as they did so, Nick Hotaling and Jack Rhodes wheeled in
front of them and called to them to surrender. The remainder of our
company was in their rear. Nick rode a Grimsey saddle with a high
cantle, and as he passed in front he threw his body, Indian fashion,
upon the near side of the horse. This caused the tail of his overcoat
to stand up in the air where it invited the fire of the enemy and
received several bullet wounds. The fray did not last long however, and
they soon surrendered. We captured nineteen men, including one
lieutenant. One escaped. The latter was mounted upon a thoroughbred,
and during the excitement quietly moved away a short distance and then
put spurs to his horse. Chase was given, but our men, having dismounted
at the surrender, were unable to overtake him.
During the main chase I captured a prisoner and, while changing
revolvers, accidently discharged one and wounded my mare in the
shoulder. The wound was not serious however, and that, with the holes
through Hotaling's coat-tail, summed up the injury to our little band
of thirteen. All things considered, we had reason to believe it to be a
lucky number.
Some of the other companies of our regiment thought that because we
were so much upon detached service, we were not entitled to the letter
"A." After that, however, it was freely conceded to us.
Colonel Mudd and his men soon arrived with the cattle. He was more than
pleased with our behavior. General Franklin however was loth to give us
any credit, presumably because we were western men. The Colonel told
him that he could do as he liked about it, but that if he refused, it
would be sought elsewhere. As a result, the following order was issued:
Headquarters, Cavalry Division,
In the Field near New Iberia, La.,
Dec. 5th, 1863.
General Order
No. 10.
The Colonel commanding is glad to be able to publish to this
command the following communication received today from Major
General Franklin, to show that gallant deeds are appreciated:
"The commanding General directs that you publicly express his
thanks to Lieutenant McHenry, Co. A, 2nd Ill. Cavalry and the
detachment of seventeen men under his command, for their gallant
conduct on the 30th Nov. last, in charging and capturing an equal
number of the rebel force. Acts of daring of this kind, while they
encourage our own troops, demoralize the enemy. Treat them in this
way whenever opportunity offers and they will soon abandon a
service for which they now have little heart.
"By order of T. J. Lucas, Col. Com'g.
F. W. Emery, A.A.G."
So far as I can remember them, the names of those connected with the
incident, in addition to the writer, are as follows: Lieutenant James
McHenry, Nicholas Hotaling, Grant Townsend, James L. Padget, William
Stilwell, John Elder, John Rhodes, George Burkhardt, Joseph Sheaff,
George Hemstock, Waldo Aulis and Calvin Steel. Including the guard at
the bridge, there were three or four others, but I have forgotten their
names.
We remained at New Iberia until shortly after January 4, 1864, the date
of our re-enlistment, when we went to New Orleans. In the early part of
February we left there for home upon a veteran furlough.
Twenty-two of our old company veteranized. The new organization
however, never seemed like the old one. There was a lack of a certain
charm, a lack of unity, a lack of that intimate comradeship that we had
known before.
Upon our arrival at New Orleans, Banks and Franklin did a most shameful
thing. Our men owned their horses and equipment. Upon entering the
service, each had selected the best horse he could get in his
neighborhood, and the result was that we, as privates, were better
mounted than the eastern officers. Their envy was shown upon all
occasions and they made our re-enlistment an excuse for confiscating
our horses. They first attempted to take them arbitrarily by allowing
each officer to choose; but, when given to understand that they were
our private property, an order was issued by Banks or Franklin, I am
not certain which, to appraise the horses in the name of the Government
and place a U.S. brand upon them. In order to carry it out
successfully, the order was, for a time, kept secret. When the time
came to take possession, our men were ordered out without arms and with
nothing but the bridles upon the horses. We were marched into an alley
and thence into a cotton shed with high brick walls. Then two or four
were ordered to dismount and lead their horses into another shed where
an appraiser was stationed with men having red-hot brands, ready for
their repulsive work. Exasperating as it was, our feeling for the
branders was one of respect compared to our unspeakable contempt for
those who commanded them to do it. The injustice and tyranny of the act
was only equaled by the cowardly and brutal manner of its perpetration.
During the entire time, a regiment of infantry and a battery of
artillery were in line commanding the place.
We never recovered from the moral effect of this dastardly act by which
the Government was the greater loser. Before, the horses were
scrupulously cared for. At the end of a long march, the men might be
hungry but the horses were fed; the men might be tired to exhaustion,
but to groom their horses before sleeping was a duty never neglected.
It was not uncommon for a soldier to take another horse or a mule and
ride four or five miles at night to get forage for the tired one. All
this ceased under the new order of things, and neglect and indifference
was the rule.
Government vouchers were given to us for our horses; but inasmuch as
these were made payable at St. Louis, most of them were cashed by
speculators in New Orleans at a modest discount of ten per cent.
It was gratifying to know that the eastern officers who wanted our
horses, failed in the end to get them. For some reason, all but a few
of the poorer ones, were taken by new recruits.
All of those who veteranized were required to move to the Conley Depot,
about three miles north of Canal Street where they waited until they
were paid. In a day or two after this, orders were received to march to
the boat. Early in the morning, Gilmore's famous Boston Band, composed
of one hundred and twenty-five pieces, marched to our quarters and
escorted us to the Clay Monument at St. Charles and Canal Streets,
where we were addressed by Colonel Marsh of our regiment. When he had
finished, General John A. McClernand appeared and bade us good bye and
wished us a happy time. The band then escorted us to the boat, played
while we were waiting, and closed, as the boat left the dock, with "The
Girl I Left Behind Me." We had a most delightful trip and were received
by all at home with open arms.
Our home-going was one round of delightful entertainment and generous
hospitality. But it was all too short. It seemed to end almost as soon
as it began, and our faces were again turned to the front. It did not
seem so hard to start however, as when we first enlisted. We had become
seasoned, had a definite aim, a justifiable pride in our appearance and
record as soldiers, and success in the past gave us confidence in the
future. Moreover, there was a strong tie of fraternity which was born
of the trying experiences through which we had passed. At the outset it
was different. All was new and strange and confusing. We knew nothing
of camp duties or methods, had no conception of military discipline,
and it was more than two years before we were enabled to fully care for
ourselves as soldiers. Our hard-won experience prompted the wish to
again go to the front and remain there to the end.
The regiment first assembled at Springfield. Our Colonel, who had
formerly lived at St. Louis, where he had a large acquaintance, was
very proud of his command and wanted us to visit St. Louis, which we
did. Upon our arrival there we were received by a large deputation of
citizens who gave a banquet in our honor, at which several of the men
of the regiment made telling speeches. War songs were sung and we had a
general good time. The entertainment lasted about three days.
From St. Louis we went to New Orleans upon the steamer "Olive-Branch."
Upon our arrival, which was in April, we were ordered to Baton Rouge,
where we went into camp. Our time there was occupied in infantry drill
with old Springfield rifles, until about July, when we received our
mounts and were again ready for service.
[Illustration: JAMES L. PADGETT]