I returned to New York, procured my uniform, and immediately reported at
Auburn, where the Twenty-fourth cavalry was rendezvoused. To my
surprise, I found that they were under orders to proceed at once to
Washington. When I reported to Colonel Raulston, commanding, he told me
that he proposed to assign me to Company D, as this company had no
captain, and he did not think the first lieutenant, who had recruited
most of the men, was likely to remain long in the service and was unable
to enforce the necessary discipline. Though I was a second lieutenant,
he expected to hold me responsible for the safe conduct of the men to
Washington and the drilling and care of the company. It seems that the
first lieutenant, who was a well-meaning man, was not suited for
military life; he did not realize what was required and expected of him,
was incapable of securing the confidence of the men, and totally
ignorant of the duties of a company commander; and consequently with his
concurrence and with perfect good feeling between us, I took charge of
the company, drilled them, and had practically charge of them until
compelled to leave them by reason of wounds, as will be explained
later.
The regiment left Auburn for Washington via Elmira and Baltimore. It
rode in passenger-cars from Auburn to Elmira, and at Elmira,
notwithstanding the season of the year, February, the regiment was
placed in freight-cars and was thus transported to Baltimore. As the men
had received large bounties I was, I assume, in common with the other
company commanders, told that I would be held responsible should any of
my men desert while en route to Washington. The train made frequent
stops and was held at stations to allow other traffic to pass, and I
think we were something like forty-eight hours en route. It seemed to me
hard to keep the men cramped up in these cars in which they simply had
planks to sit on, so I told them that at each station we stopped at I
would allow a certain number to get out and take a little exercise, but
that in accepting this privilege if any of them took advantage of it to
desert I would have to suffer for it, yet I would take the chances that
they would be fair to me. This they were, since none of them deserted.
[Illustration: COLONEL WILLIAM C. RAULSTON]
Before reaching Baltimore an amusing incident occurred that illustrates
a volunteer soldier's idea of discipline on joining the army. At one of
the stopping-places where my men were out walking on the platform,
Lieutenant-Colonel Newberry remarked that he noticed my men out at
every station, intimating that I was not holding them well in hand. I
replied that I thought it a hardship not to let them take some exercise,
the weather being cold, but that if he directed me not to allow them to
leave the cars I would carry out his instructions. At this he turned and
made no reply. A couple of Irishmen of my company overheard the
conversation, one of whom exclaimed: "I say, Lieutenant, if you say the
word we will belt hell out of him, so we will!" Ordering the men to get
in the car, I had great difficulty to refrain from laughing. If the
Colonel heard the remark he doubtless was amused at it; at any rate he
ignored it. He had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and no officer could
be more considerate of his men than he subsequently proved to be. When
the train conveying the regiment reached Baltimore, the sides of many of
the cars had been stripped of their covering, which had been used to
make fires en route. We finally reached the old Baltimore and Ohio
station in Washington at night, it being very cold. From there we
marched to Camp Stoneman, a cavalry camp of instruction across Potomac
Creek, where the regiment was drilled and put in shape for the campaign
that began in May.
Having had experience in a cavalry regiment and being familiar with
cavalry tactics, and also with the various details of camp duties, I was
able to suggest how my inexperienced men could be comfortable in camp,
as soon as we reached Camp Stoneman. The regiment was, in May, assigned
to Burnside's Ninth Corps, and joined the Army of the Potomac, after a
hard day's march, the afternoon of the second day of the battle of the
Wilderness. As soon as our regiment advanced into the woods, I was
selected to take command of a skirmish line that was to cover, as I
remember, the front of our brigade. I assumed that I was selected for
this duty, though only a second lieutenant in rank, because of the fact
of my prior service with the Harris Light Cavalry and with Generals
Gregg and Kilpatrick. Nothing serious occurred, however, to my command
that day.
On the evening of the last day of the battle of the Wilderness we built
a new line of breastworks, which were in close proximity to the enemy's
lines. With a view to sparing my men, who were then much exhausted, I
had the works in my front built by stragglers from other regiments, of
whom there were a large number, releasing them when the work was
finished. At dark, in order to prevent a surprise, as it was extremely
difficult to keep the men awake, we placed a line of pickets about fifty
yards outside of our works. A short time after, some one on our line
fired a shot, when immediately the whole line arose and began shooting.
Believing that it was a false alarm, I jumped up to look over the
breastworks to see if I could see any firing from the enemy's lines. At
that moment I heard our pickets outside, who were subjected to this
fire, calling out, "For God's sake stop firing, you are killing your own
men!" Running along the line giving orders to stop the firing, I had a
narrow escape from one excited fellow who fired his carbine off, the
muzzle of which was close to my ear as I was in the act of grabbing
another man who, in his excitement, was about to shoot. The line,
however, soon quieted down.
Presently a messenger came to me and speaking in a low tone directed me
to keep a sharp lookout and when I saw the troops on my right move, to
have my men follow as noiselessly as possible, and he enjoined me to see
that the men carried their canteens and tin cups in their hands in order
that no noise might be heard by the enemy whose lines were so close by.
I was soon notified, "They are moving." Quickly walking along the line I
awoke the men and cautioned them to be as quiet as possible. In this
manner we moved out and for some moments were in suspense lest the enemy
hear the movement and, by attacking, stop it. After a while we reached a
place where we could form in column of fours, and all that night we
marched through narrow roads in the woods of that region, halting every
few minutes because of obstructions due to teams and other troops in our
front. This fatiguing process continued until about daylight, when we
reached the main road where the country was open. We were all greatly
depressed, since after the three days' desperate fighting at the
Wilderness no apparent advantage had been gained, and we assumed that
the army had been unsuccessful and that it was an attempt to retreat. We
soon came to a house outside of which I saw a colored woman apparently
dressed up, since it was Sunday. I called out to her and asked what road
we were marching on. Upon hearing her reply, "The road to Spottsylvania
Court House," a thrill of satisfaction instantly passed through every
man in the column, since then we realized that we at last had a general
and that our movement was south and towards the rear of Lee's army. From
that time until the end of my service I never had any misgiving as to
Grant's capacity to lead us to final victory.
It was on this morning that I first saw General Grant. The road ahead
was blocked and our men were lying in it when some one called out, "Get
your men to one side to allow General Grant to pass." Grant, however,
gave directions not to disturb the tired men, many of whom were asleep,
and turned into a field. We were all up, however, anxious to see him. He
appeared riding a small black horse with his feet not more than two feet
from the ground. He had a couple of staff-officers with him, one of whom
was Captain Parker, an Indian, and an orderly. His unpretentious
appearance excited the comment of all, and had we not been told who he
was he would have attracted no more attention than an ordinary line
officer.