ROMANTIC IDEAS DISSIPATED.
To offer a man promotion in the early part of the war was equivalent to
an insult. The higher the social position, the greater the wealth, the
more patriotic it would be to serve in the humble position of a private;
and many men of education and ability in the various professions,
refusing promotion, served under the command of men greatly their
inferiors, mentally, morally, and as soldiers. It soon became apparent
that the country wanted knowledge and ability, as well as muscle and
endurance, and those who had capacity to serve in higher positions were
promoted. Still it remained true that inferior men commanded their
superiors in every respect, save one--rank; and leaving out the one
difference of rank, the officers and men were about on a par.
It took years to teach the educated privates in the army that it was
their duty to give unquestioning obedience to officers because they were
such, who were awhile ago their playmates and associates in business. It
frequently happened that the private, feeling hurt by the stern
authority of the officer, would ask him to one side, challenge him to
personal combat, and thrash him well. After awhile these privates
learned all about extra duty, half rations, and courts-martial.
It was only to conquer this independent resistance of discipline that
punishment or force was necessary. The privates were as willing and
anxious to fight and serve as the officers, and needed no pushing up to
their duty. It is amusing to recall the disgust with which the men would
hear of their assignment to the rear as reserves. They regarded the
order as a deliberate insult, planned by some officer who had a grudge
against their regiment or battery, who had adopted this plan to prevent
their presence in battle, and thus humiliate them. How soon did they
learn the sweetness of a day's repose in the rear!
Another romantic notion which for awhile possessed the boys was that
soldiers should not try to be comfortable, but glory in getting wet,
being cold, hungry, and tired. So they refused shelter in houses or
barns, and "like true soldiers" paddled about in the mud and rain,
thinking thereby to serve their country better. The real troubles had
not come, and they were in a hurry to suffer some. They had not long
thus impatiently to wait, nor could they latterly complain of the want
of a chance "to do or die." Volunteering for perilous or very onerous
duty was popular at the outset, but as duties of this kind thickened it
began to be thought time enough when the "orders" were peremptory, or
the orderly read the "detail."
Another fancy idea was that the principal occupation of a soldier should
be actual conflict with the enemy. They didn't dream of such a thing as
camping for six months at a time without firing a gun, or marching and
countermarching to mislead the enemy, or driving wagons and ambulances,
building bridges, currying horses, and the thousand commonplace duties
of the soldier.
On the other hand, great importance was attached to some duties which
soon became mere drudgery. Sometimes the whole detail for guard--first,
second, and third relief--would make it a point of honor to sit up the
entire night, and watch and listen as though the enemy might pounce upon
them at any moment, and hurry them off to prison. Of course they soon
learned how sweet it was, after two hours' walking of the beat, to turn
in for _four hours_! which seemed to the sleepy man an eternity in
anticipation, but only a brief time in retrospect, when the corporal
gave him a "chunk," and remarked, "Time to go on guard."
[Illustration: FALL IN HERE THIRD RELIEF!]
Everybody remembers how we used to talk about "one Confederate whipping
a dozen Yankees." Literally true sometimes, but, generally speaking, two
to one made hard work for the boys. They didn't know at the beginning
anything about the advantage the enemy had in being able to present man
for man in front and then send as many more to worry the flanks and
rear. They learned something about this very soon, and had to contend
against it on almost every field they won.
Wounds were in great demand after the first wounded hero made his
appearance. His wound was the envy of thousands of unfortunates who had
not so much as a scratch to boast, and who felt "small" and of little
consequence before the man with a bloody bandage. Many became despondent
and groaned as they thought that perchance after all they were doomed to
go home safe and sound, and hear, for all time, the praises of the
fellow who had lost his arm by a cannon shot, or had his face ripped by
a sabre, or his head smashed with a fragment of shell. After awhile the
wound was regarded as a practical benefit. It secured a furlough of
indefinite length, good eating, the attention and admiration of the
fair, and, if permanently disabling, a discharge. Wisdom, born of
experience, soon taught all hands better sense, and the fences and trees
and ditches and rocks became valuable, and eagerly sought after when
"the music" of "minie" and the roar of the "Napoleon" twelve-pounders
was heard. Death on the field, glorious first and last, was dared for
duty's sake, but the good soldier learned to guard his life, and yield
it only at the call of duty.
Only the wisest men, those who had seen war before, imagined that the
war would last more than a few months. The young volunteers thought one
good battle would settle the whole matter; and, indeed, after "first
Manassas" many thought they might as well go home! The whole North was
frightened, and no more armies would dare assail the soil of Old
Virginia. Colonels and brigadiers, with flesh wounds not worthy of
notice, rushed to Richmond to report the victory and the end of the war!
They had "seen sights" in the way of wounded and killed, plunder, etc.,
and according to their views, no sane people would try again to conquer
the heroes of that remarkable day.
The newspaper men delighted in telling the soldiers that the Yankees
were a diminutive race, of feeble constitution, timid as hares, with no
enthusiasm, and that they would perish in short order under the glow of
our southern sun. Any one who has seen a regiment from Ohio or Maine
knows how true these statements were. And besides, the newspapers did
not mention the English, Irish, German, French, Italian, Spanish, Swiss,
Portuguese, and negroes, who were to swell the numbers of the enemy, and
as our army grew less make his larger. True, there was not much fight in
all this rubbish, but they answered well enough for drivers of wagons
and ambulances, guarding stores and lines of communication, and doing
all sorts of duty, while the good material was doing the fighting.
Sherman's army, marching through Richmond after the surrender of Lee and
Johnston, seemed to be composed of a race of giants, well-fed and
well-clad.
[Illustration: AN EARLY HERO. 1861.]
Many feared the war would end before they would have a fair chance to
"make a record," and that when "the cruel war was over" they would have
to sit by, dumb, and hear the more fortunate ones, who had "smelt the
battle," tell to admiring home circles the story of the bloody field.
Most of these "got in" in time to satisfy their longings, and "got out"
to learn that the man who did not go, but "kept out," and made money,
was more admired and courted than the "poor fellow" with one leg or arm
less than is "allowed."
It is fortunate for those who "skulked" that the war ended as it did,
for had the South been successful, the soldiers would have been favored
with every mark of distinction and honor, and they "despised and
rejected," as they deserved to be. While the war lasted it was the
delight of some of the stoutly built fellows to go home for a few days,
and kick and cuff and tongue-lash the able-bodied bomb-proofs. How
coolly and submissively they took it all! How "big" they are now!
The rubbish accumulated by the hope of recognition burdened the soldiers
nearly to the end. England was to abolish the blockade and send us
immense supplies of fine arms, large and small. France was thinking
about landing an imperial force in Mexico, and marching thence to the
relief of the South. But the "Confederate yell" never had an echo in the
"Marseillaise," or "God save the Queen;" and Old Dixie was destined to
sing her own song, without the help even of "Maryland, my Maryland." The
"war with England," which was to give Uncle Sam trouble and the South an
ally, never came.
Those immense balloons which somebody was always inventing, and which
were to sail over the enemy's camps dropping whole cargoes of
explosives, never "tugged" at their anchors, or "sailed majestically
away."
As discipline improved and the men began to feel that they were no
longer simply volunteers, but _enlisted volunteers_, the romantic
devotion which they had felt was succeeded by a feeling of constraint
and necessity, and while the army was in reality very much improved and
strengthened by the change, the soldiers imagined the contrary to be the
case. And if discipline had been pushed to too great an extent, the army
would have been deprived of the very essence of its life and power.
When the officers began to assert superiority by withdrawing from the
messes and organizing "officers' messes," the bond of brotherhood was
weakened; and who will say that the dignity which was thus maintained
was compensation for the loss of personal devotion as between comrades?
At the outset, the fact that men were in the same company put them
somewhat on the same level, and produced an almost perfect bond of
sympathy; but as time wore on, the various peculiarities and weaknesses
of the men showed themselves, and each company, as a community,
separated into distinct circles, as indifferent to each other, save in
the common cause, as though they had never met as friends.
The pride of the volunteers was sorely tried by the incoming of
conscripts,--the most despised class in the army,--and their devotion to
company and regiment was visibly lessened. They could not bear the
thought of having these men for comrades, and felt the flag insulted
when claimed by one of them as "his flag." It was a great source of
annoyance to the true men, but was a necessity. Conscripts crowded
together in companies, regiments, and brigades would have been useless,
but scattered here and there among the good men, were utilized. And so,
gradually, the pleasure that men had in being associated with others
whom they respected as equals was taken away, and the social aspect of
army life seriously marred.
The next serious blow to romance was the abolishment of elections, and
the appointment of officers. Instead of the privilege and pleasure of
picking out some good-hearted, brave comrade and making him captain, the
lieutenant was promoted without the consent of the men, or, what was
harder to bear, some officer hitherto unknown was sent to take command.
This was no doubt better for the service, but it had a serious effect on
the minds of volunteer patriot soldiers, and looked to them too much
like arbitrary power exercised over men who were fighting that very
principle. They frequently had to acknowledge, however, that the
officers were all they could ask, and in many instances became devotedly
attached to them.
As the companies were decimated by disease, wounds, desertions, and
death, it became necessary to consolidate them, and the social pleasures
received another blow. Men from the same neighborhoods and villages, who
had been schoolmates together, were no longer in companies, but mingled
indiscriminately with all sorts of men from anywhere and everywhere.
Those who have not served in the army as privates can form no idea of
the extent to which such changes as those just mentioned affect the
spirits and general worth of a soldier. Men who, when surrounded by
their old companions, were brave and daring soldiers, full of spirit and
hope, when thrust among strangers for whom they cared not, and who cared
not for them, became dull and listless, lost their courage, and were
slowly but surely "demoralized." They did, it is true, in many cases,
stand up to the last, but they did it on dry principle, having none of
that enthusiasm and delight in duty which once characterized them.
The Confederate soldier was peculiar in that he was ever ready to fight,
but never ready to submit to the routine duty and discipline of the camp
or the march. The soldiers were determined to be soldiers after their
own notions, and do their duty, for the love of it, as they thought
best. The officers saw the necessity for doing otherwise, and so the
conflict was commenced and maintained to the end.
It is doubtful whether the Southern soldier would have submitted to any
hardships which were purely the result of discipline, and, on the other
hand, no amount of hardship, clearly of necessity, could cool his ardor.
And in spite of all this antagonism between the officers and men, the
presence of conscripts, the consolidation of commands, and many other
discouraging facts, the privates in the ranks so conducted themselves
that the historians of the North were forced to call them the finest
body of infantry ever assembled.
But to know the men, we must see them divested of all their false
notions of soldier life, and enduring the incomparable hardships which
marked the latter half of the war.