ON THE MARCH.
It is a common mistake of those who write on subjects familiar to
themselves, to omit the details, which, to one not so conversant with
the matters discussed, are necessary to a clear appreciation of the
meaning of the writer. This mistake is fatal when the writer lives and
writes in one age and his readers live in another. And so a soldier,
writing for the information of the citizen, should forget his own
familiarity with the every-day scenes of soldier life and strive to
record even those things which seem to him too common to mention.
Who does not know all about the marching of soldiers? Those who have
never marched with them and some who have. The varied experience of
thousands would not tell the whole story of the march. Every man must be
heard before the story is told, and even then the part of those who fell
by the way is wanting.
Orders to move! Where? when? what for?--are the eager questions of the
men as they begin their preparations to march. Generally nobody can
answer, and the journey is commenced in utter ignorance of where it is
to end. But shrewd guesses are made, and scraps of information will be
picked up on the way. The main thought must be to "get ready to move."
The orderly sergeant is shouting "Fall in!" and there is no time to
lose. The probability is that before you get your blanket rolled up,
find your frying pan, haversack, axe, etc., and "fall in," the roll-call
will be over, and some "extra duty" provided.
[Illustration]
No wonder there is bustle in the camp. Rapid decisions are to be made
between the various conveniences which have accumulated, for some must
be left. One fellow picks up the skillet, holds it awhile, mentally
determining how much it weighs, and what will be the weight of it after
carrying it five miles, and reluctantly, with a half-ashamed, sly look,
drops it and takes his place in ranks. Another having added to his store
of blankets too freely, now has to decide which of the two or three he
will leave. The old water-bucket looks large and heavy, but one
stout-hearted, strong-armed man has taken it affectionately to his care.
This is the time to say farewell to the breadtray, farewell to the
little piles of clean straw laid between two logs, where it was so easy
to sleep; farewell to those piles of wood, cut with so much labor;
farewell to the girls in the neighborhood; farewell to the spring,
farewell to "our tree" and "our fire," good-by to the fellows who are
not going, and a general good-by to the very hills and valleys.
Soldiers commonly threw away the most valuable articles they possessed.
Blankets, overcoats, shoes, bread and meat,--all gave way to the
necessities of the march; and what one man threw away would frequently
be the very article that another wanted and would immediately pick up;
so there was not much lost after all.
The first hour or so of the march was generally quite orderly, the men
preserving their places in ranks and marching in solid column; but soon
some lively fellow whistles an air, somebody else starts a song, the
whole column breaks out with roars of laughter; "route step" takes the
place of order, and the jolly singing, laughing, talking, and joking
that follows no one could describe.
Now let any young officer who sports a new hat, coat, saddle, or
anything odd, or fine, dare to pass along, and how nicely he is attended
to. The expressions of good-natured fun, or contempt, which one regiment
of infantry was capable of uttering in a day for the benefit of such
passers-by, would fill a volume. As one thing or another in the dress of
the "subject" of their remarks attracted attention, they would shout,
"Come out of that hat!--you can't hide in thar!" "Come out of that coat,
come out--there's a man in it!" "Come out of them boots!" The infantry
seemed to know exactly what to say to torment cavalry and artillery, and
generally said it. If any one on the roadside was simple enough to
recognize and address by name a man in the ranks, the whole column would
kindly respond, and add all sorts of pleasant remarks, such as, "Halloa,
John, here's your brother!" "Bill! oh, Bill! here's your ma!" "Glad to
see you! How's your grandma?" "How d 'ye do!" "Come out of that 'biled
shirt'!"
Troops on the march were generally so cheerful and gay that an outsider,
looking on them as they marched, would hardly imagine how they suffered.
In summer time, the dust, combined with the heat, caused great
suffering. The nostrils of the men, filled with dust, became dry and
feverish, and even the throat did not escape. The "grit" was felt
between the teeth, and the eyes were rendered almost useless. There was
dust in eyes, mouth, ears, and hair. The shoes were full of sand, and
the dust, penetrating the clothes, and getting in at the neck, wrists,
and ankles, mixed with perspiration, produced an irritant almost as
active as cantharides. The heat was at times terrific, but the men
became greatly accustomed to it, and endured it with wonderful ease.
Their heavy woolen clothes were a great annoyance; tough linen or cotton
clothes would have been a great relief; indeed, there are many
objections to woolen clothing for soldiers, even in winter. The sun
produced great changes in the appearance of the men: their skins, tanned
to a dark brown or red, their hands black almost, and long uncut beard
and hair, burned to a strange color, made them barely recognizable to
the home folks.
If the dust and the heat were not on hand to annoy, their very able
substitutes were: mud, cold, rain, snow, hail and wind took their
places. Rain was the greatest discomfort a soldier could have; it was
more uncomfortable than the severest cold with clear weather. Wet
clothes, shoes, and blankets; wet meat and bread; wet feet and wet
ground; wet wood to burn, or rather not to burn; wet arms and
ammunition; wet ground to sleep on, mud to wade through, swollen creeks
to ford, muddy springs, and a thousand other discomforts attended the
rain. There was no comfort on a rainy day or night except in
"bed,"--that is, under your blanket and oil-cloth. Cold winds, blowing
the rain in the faces of the men, increased the discomfort. Mud was
often so deep as to submerge the horses and mules, and at times it was
necessary for one man or more to extricate another from the mud holes in
the road. Night marching was attended with additional discomforts and
dangers, such as falling off bridges, stumbling into ditches, tearing
the face and injuring the eyes against the bushes and projecting limbs
of trees, and getting separated from your own company and hopelessly
lost in the multitude. Of course, a man lost had no sympathy. If he
dared to ask a question, every man in hearing would answer, each
differently, and then the whole multitude would roar with laughter at
the lost man, and ask him "if his mother knew he was out?"
Very few men had comfortable or fitting shoes, and fewer had socks, and,
as a consequence, the suffering from bruised and inflamed feet was
terrible. It was a common practice, on long marches, for the men to take
off their shoes and carry them in their hands or swung over the
shoulder. Bloody footprints in the snow were not unknown to the soldiers
of the Army of Northern Virginia!
When large bodies of troops were moving on the same road, the alternate
"halt" and "forward" was very harassing. Every obstacle produced a halt,
and caused the men at once to sit and lie down on the roadside where
shade or grass tempted them; about the time they got fixed they would
hear the word "forward!" and then have to move at increased speed to
close up the gap in the column. Sitting down for a few minutes on a long
march is pleasant, but it does not always pay; when the march is resumed
the limbs are stiff and sore, and the man rather worsted by the halt.
About noon on a hot day, some fellow with the water instinct would
determine in his own mind that a well was not far ahead, and start off
in a trot to reach it before the column. Of course another and another
followed, till a stream of men were hurrying to the well, which was soon
completely surrounded by a thirsty mob, yelling and pushing and pulling
to get to the bucket as the windlass brought it again and again to the
surface. But their impatience and haste would soon overturn the
windlass, and spatter the water all around the well till the whole crowd
were wading in mud, the rope would break, and the bucket fall to the
bottom. But there was a substitute for rope and bucket. The men would
hasten away and get long, slim poles, and on them tie, by the straps a
number of canteens, which they lowered into the well and filled; and
unless, as was frequently the case, the whole lot slipped off and fell
to the bottom, drew them to the top and distributed them to their
owners, who at once threw their heads back, inserted the nozzles in
their mouths and drank the last drop, hastening at once to rejoin the
marching column, leaving behind them a dismantled and dry well. It was
in vain that the officers tried to stop the stream of men making for the
water, and equally vain to attempt to move the crowd while a drop
remained accessible. Many, who were thoughtful, carried full canteens to
comrades in the column, who had not been able to get to the well; and no
one who has not had experience of it knows the thrill of gratification
and delight which those fellows felt when the cool stream gurgled from
the battered canteen down their parched throats.
[Illustration: A WELL]
In very hot weather, when the necessities of the service permitted,
there was a halt about noon, of an hour or so, to rest the men and give
them a chance to cool off and get the sand and gravel out of their
shoes. This time was spent by some in absolute repose; but the lively
boys told many a yarn, cracked many a joke, and sung many a song between
"Halt" and "Column forward!" Some took the opportunity, if water was
near, to bathe their feet, hands, and face, and nothing could be more
enjoyable.
The passage of a cider cart (a barrel on wheels) was a rare and exciting
occurrence. The rapidity with which a barrel of sweet cider was
consumed would astonish any one who saw it for the first time, and
generally the owner had cause to wonder at the small return in cash.
Sometimes a desperately enterprising darkey would approach the column
with a cartload of pies, "so-called." It would be impossible to describe
accurately the taste or appearance of those pies. They were generally
similar in appearance, size, and thickness to a pale specimen of "Old
Virginia" buckwheat cakes, and had a taste which resembled a combination
of rancid lard and crab apples. It was generally supposed that they
contained dried apples, and the sellers were careful to state that they
had "sugar in 'em" and were "mighty nice." It was rarely the case that
any "trace" of sugar was found, but they filled up a hungry man
wonderfully.
Men of sense, and there were many such in the ranks, were necessarily
desirous of knowing where or how far they were to march, and suffered
greatly from a feeling of helpless ignorance of where they were and
whither bound--whether to battle or camp. Frequently, when anticipating
the quiet and rest of an ideal camp, they were thrown, weary and
exhausted, into the face of a waiting enemy, and at times, after
anticipating a sharp fight, having formed line of battle and braced
themselves for the coming danger, suffered all the apprehension and got
themselves in good fighting trim, they were marched off in the driest
and prosiest sort of style and ordered into camp, where, in all
probability, they had to "wait for the wagon," and for the bread and
meat therein, until the proverb, "Patient waiting is no loss," lost all
its force and beauty.
Occasionally, when the column extended for a mile or more, and the road
was one dense moving mass of men, a cheer would be heard away
ahead,--increasing in volume as it approached, until there was one
universal shout. Then some favorite general officer, dashing by,
followed by his staff, would explain the cause. At other times, the same
cheering and enthusiasm would result from the passage down the column of
some obscure and despised officer, who knew it was all a joke, and
looked mean and sheepish accordingly. But no _man_ could produce more
prolonged or hearty cheers than the "old hare" which jumped the fence
and invited the column to a chase; and often it was said, when the
rolling shout arose: "There goes old General Lee or a Molly Cotton
Tail!"
The men would help each other when in real distress, but their delight
was to torment any one who was unfortunate in a ridiculous way. If, for
instance, a piece of artillery was fast in the mud, the infantry and
cavalry passing around the obstruction would rack their brains for words
and phrases applicable to the situation, and most calculated to worry
the cannoniers, who, waist deep in the mud, were tugging at the wheels.
Brass bands, at first quite numerous and good, became very rare and
their music very poor in the latter years of the war. It was a fine
thing to see the fellows trying to keep the music going as they waded
through the mud. But poor as the music was, it helped the footsore and
weary to make another mile, and encouraged a cheer and a brisker step
from the lagging and tired column.
As the men tired, there was less and less talking, until the whole mass
became quiet and serious. Each man was occupied with his own thoughts.
For miles nothing could be heard but the steady tramp of the men, the
rattling and jingling of canteens and accoutrements, and the occasional
"Close up, men,--close up!" of the officers.
The most refreshing incidents of the march occurred when the column
entered some clean and cosy village where the people loved the troops.
Matron and maid vied with each other in their efforts to express their
devotion to the defenders of their cause. Remembering with tearful eyes
the absent soldier brother or husband, they yet smiled through their
tears, and with hearts and voices welcomed the coming of the
road-stained troops. Their scanty larders poured out the last morsel,
and their bravest words were spoken, as the column moved by. But who
will tell the bitterness of the lot of the man who thus passed by his
own sweet home, or the anguish of the mother as she renewed her farewell
to her darling boy? Then it was that men and women learned to long for
the country where partings are no more.
As evening came on, questioning of the officers was in order, and for an
hour it would be, "Captain, when are we going into camp?" "I say,
lieutenant, are we going to ---- or to ----?" "Seen anything of our
wagon?" "How long are we to stay here?" "Where's the spring?" Sometimes
these questions were meant simply to tease, but generally they betrayed
anxiety of some sort, and a close observer would easily detect the
seriousness of the man who asked after "our wagon," because he spoke
feelingly, as one who wanted his supper and was in doubt as to whether
or not he would get it. People who live on country roads rarely know how
far it is from anywhere to anywhere else. This is a distinguishing
peculiarity of that class of people. If they do know, then they are a
malicious crew. "Just over the hill there," "Just beyond those woods,"
"'Bout a mile," "Round the bend," and other such encouraging replies,
mean anything from a mile to a day's march!
An accomplished straggler could assume more misery, look more horribly
emaciated, tell more dismal stories of distress, eat more and march
further (to the rear), than any ten ordinary men. Most stragglers were
real sufferers, but many of them were ingenious liars, energetic
foragers, plunder hunters and gormandizers. Thousands who kept their
place in ranks to the very end were equally as tired, as sick, as
hungry, and as hopeless, as these scamps, but too proud to tell it or
use it as a means of escape from hardship. But many a poor fellow
dropped in the road and breathed his last in the corner of a fence, with
no one to hear his last fond mention of his loved ones. And many whose
ambition it was to share every danger and discomfort with their
comrades, overcome by the heat, or worn out with disease, were compelled
to leave the ranks, and while friend and brother marched to battle, drag
their weak and staggering frames to the rear, perhaps to die pitiably
alone, in some hospital.
[Illustration: AN ACCOMPLISHED STRAGGLER.]
After all, the march had more pleasure than pain. Chosen friends walked
and talked and smoked together; the hills and valleys made themselves a
panorama for the feasting of the soldiers' eyes; a turnip patch here and
an onion patch there invited him to occasional refreshment; and it was
sweet to think that "camp" was near at hand, and rest, and the journey
almost ended.