HARRISON'S LANDING TO FREDERICKSBURG, VA.--1862-1863.
The part of the camp at Harrison's Landing occupied by our brigade
was, I think, the most unhealthy spot in which I had ever camped. The
weather had become intensely hot and water fit to drink was difficult
to obtain from a poor spring, at which crowds stood in line waiting
for a chance to fill their canteens. The water of the boggy creek was
soon contaminated and the sinking of barrels and cracker boxes at its
edge had but little effect in purifying it. Nearly a third of our men
were soon sick with miasma and swamp fever; the hospitals were
over-crowded and the mortality high. Every morning and evening we
heard the dead march.
Our second day in this camp was the Fourth of July, and General
McClellan caused a salute to be fired at noon at each army corps
headquarters. In the afternoon he reviewed us and his address to the
Army of the Potomac was read to us on parade. A few days later
President Lincoln visited the camp and held a review in the cool of
the evening. He was enthusiastically cheered.
About this time I became very ill and had to report to the regimental
surgeon, who wanted to send me to the hospital; but I did not want to
go there among so many sick and dying men and remained for a few days
in my tent, over which we had built an arbor, which was of little use,
however, as the camp was exposed to the torrid sun. I became very
weak. A kind comrade assisted me from camp to the creek, about a
hundred yards away, where he spread my blanket and I lay there under
the shade of a tree all day, until he helped me back to camp at night.
It was better than remaining in the little shelter tent; but I was so
miserable that I cared very little whether I lived or died.
The sick and wounded of the volunteers had a "sanitary commission,"
supported by the various states, which furnished nurses, supplies and
delicacies that the army could not provide. The regulars, when in
their own hospitals, received no such attention; they had to get along
on soldiers' rations, if they could eat them. At this camp we had
company cooks. My comrade brought me rice soup from our kitchen, and
on that and some soft crackers and condensed milk, bought at the
sutler's, I managed to keep alive. In about ten days I began to
improve, but was greatly emaciated, and it was well towards the end of
July before I could take my place in the ranks again.
One of our first lieutenants and two second lieutenants, all civilian
appointees, who had not shown themselves at any of the recent battles
the regiment had been engaged in, turned up at Harrison's Landing
and were promptly arrested. They were tried by court-martial and
cashiered on July twenty-first, 1862. I believe two of them succeeded
in getting back into the army early in 1863, and one--the first
lieutenant--redeemed himself by being killed at Gettysburg. I shall
not mention the names of these valiant officers; they are recorded
in the official Army Register of 1862-'63.
We had been in camp about a week when we were surprised by the
reappearance of the captain of our company, whom we had left in
Georgetown four months before with a medical excuse from field duty.
He was more corpulent and his face was more florid than ever. He
brought with him some cases, containing a variety of liquors, which he
charged his servant to guard very carefully when he was absent from
his tent--which was seldom, as he performed no duties. Few of our
officers paid any attention to him or visited him in his tent, with
the exception of the three lieutenants under arrest; they were his
chums and boon companions from morning till night. My tent was within
ear-shot of the captain's and when I lay there while sick or
convalescent I could not help hearing their loud talk while they were
carousing--a daily occurrence. They fought the seven days' battles all
over again, the captain bewailing the ill health which had kept him
from the active service which he so ardently desired. Had he been in
charge of the brigade he would have formed an oblique square and in
that form he would have charged upon the enemy at a double-quick. He
demonstrated to the entire satisfaction of his auditors that the
impact of the sharp corner of the oblique square could not have failed
to break the enemy's center, while the two sides of the square would
have brushed away their right and left wings and caused them to be
annihilated by our fire. He admitted that such a bold movement could
be successfully executed only with reliable troops like the regulars,
if led by an officer who was a tactician able to conceive such a
daring attack. At times the officers under arrest became maudlin and
with tearful voices lamented their hard luck in being under arrest,
when the captain would cheer them by saying, "Gentlemen, I know you
are all brave men; trust in me, I will see you vindicated! What will
you take now?"
This went on until the three officers were cashiered and left camp.
One night soon after the Rebels shelled the camp at Harrison's Landing
and there were rumors of another advance on Richmond. The captain
hastily departed with bag and baggage, leaving only the empty cases
behind. This time we were rid of him for good; he was retired for
disability(!) August twenty-seventh, 1862, and we never saw him again.
John S. Poland now became captain of my company. He had been graduated
from the West Point Military Academy and was a very efficient officer.
The departure of our captain, the dismissal of the three lieutenants,
a few transfers and some promotions from the ranks, left us with a
better lot of officers--men whom the rank and file could respect.
We were much in need of clothing, particularly shoes, and these were
issued to us while at Harrison's Landing; also the medical department
ordered whiskey and quinine occasionally as a prevention against
malarial fever, as had been done while we were on the Chickahominy.
Most of the soldiers would have preferred to take this dose unmixed,
dispensing with the quinine.
We had regular drum and bugle calls and bands played in the evening at
this camp. Promotions took place among the soldiers--I was made a
sergeant, the youngest sergeant in the regiment at that time.
Shortly after midnight on August first a heavy fire from field pieces
on the south side of the James, which quickly aroused the entire army,
was opened on our camps and the many vessels in the river. Our
batteries at the river opened fire; so did the gun-boats. For more
than half an hour there was a tremendous noise of guns and exploding
shells, when the Rebel batteries suddenly ceased firing. None of the
shells reached us, but ten men were killed and fifteen wounded in the
camps nearer the river; the shipping received only trifling damage.
Next day troops were sent across the river, my regiment among them. We
crossed on a steamboat, near noon; deployed as skirmishers on the
other side; advanced up a hill through some woods and came upon a
meadow where the Rebel guns had been placed, commanding our camp and
the river, but screened by the woods. It was possible to locate the
guns and count them. There were forty-one of them. Some artillery
ammunition was scattered about and we noticed large holes in the
ground near-by, made by shells from our gunboats.
The day was very hot. We lay in the shade of the woods and I was
taking a nap when I was awakened and ordered to take six men and
examine a piece of wood land on our right, for half a mile or more,
and then return and report. I started with my little squad at a "trail
arms," the guns at half-cock. There was much underbrush and we
advanced cautiously for nearly half a mile, when I heard a noise and
thought I caught a glimpse of a man in a gray uniform, trying to hide
behind a tree only a short distance away. I made a sign to my squad to
halt and advancing a little nearer brought the gun to my shoulder at
full cock, when I challenged and was immediately answered, "Friend of
the Sixth Infantry!" as the man stepped from behind the tree. He was
dressed in a gray woolen shirt, having left off his blue blouse on
account of the heat. I frightened him when I explained how near he had
come to being shot on account of his gray shirt. He belonged to
another party examining the woods from a different direction. I made
my way back to my command, diverging somewhat from the way we had
come. In a clearing we found six fine cows grazing which we drove
towards our party. They were kept and turned over to the commissary
later on. We noticed some Rebel cavalry on high ground a mile or more
away watching us, but they did not venture any nearer.
The place where we had landed was called Coggin's Point. We were on
part of a large plantation, the property of a prominent secessionist.
There was a large house within view, called the Cole house, which was
ordered to be destroyed and was set fire to by another detachment. We
re-crossed the river about sundown and returned to our camp. General
McClellan ordered Coggin's Point to be occupied and field works
constructed to prevent a recurrence of a bombardment from the south
side of the James.
About August fourth General Hooker made a strong reconnoissance in the
direction of Richmond and drove a Rebel force from Malvern Hill. There
were rumors of a campaign and the authorities at Washington and the
Northern journals united in urging General McClellan to become active.
The sick and wounded, more than ten thousand of them, were being
shipped North as fast as water transportation could be provided for
them, and we supposed that another attempt to capture Richmond would
be made. We were disagreeably surprised when we learned later that we
were to reinforce General Pope north of the Rappahannock river, whom
"Stonewall" Jackson had hopelessly bewildered by his rapid movements.
The commands of Generals Freemont and Banks had been withdrawn from
the Shenandoah Valley when "Stonewall" Jackson gave them the slip in
June and by forced marches reached Richmond to take part in the seven
days' battles. These two commands were consolidated with that of
General McDowell to form the Army of Virginia, which was to operate
between Washington and Richmond for the protection of the capitol.
General Halleck called General John Pope from the West, with the
approval of the President, to take command of the Army of Virginia,
although he was out-ranked by both McDowell and Freemont. General
Freemont, unwilling to serve under Pope, promptly resigned his
command. When General Pope took command he addressed a proclamation to
the Army of Virginia in which he expressed his contempt for certain
phrases he found much in vogue, such as "bases of supplies" and "lines
of retreat"--phrases which he enjoined his army to discard, as
unworthy of soldiers destined to follow the leadership of one "who
came from the West and had never seen anything but the backs of his
enemies."
This bombastic and arrogant nonsense was a satire pointed at General
McClellan. Alas for Pope! Less than two months after he took command
the enemy saw his back and his heels as well. He was shelved to the
command of an unimportant department in the West and cut no further
figure in the war. The Northern papers made much of him and his
proclamation, but the soldiers had a clearer insight into his
character and ability as the commander of a great army. He became
known among them by the sobriquet of "Headquarters in the Saddle."
The Fifth Army Corps was the First to leave Harrison's Landing. On the
afternoon of the fourteenth of August Sykes's division received orders
to strike their tents and prepare to march to Newport News, Virginia.
We left our camp about six o'clock in the evening and marched all
night, resting only about two hours at midnight. Some time during the
forenoon of the next day we reached the Chickahominy, and crossing it
by a pontoon bridge about a thousand feet long, went into bivouac. The
following morning we started again at daybreak, and passing through
Williamsburg and Yorktown, we reached Newport News on the fourth day,
the eighteenth, remaining there for two days awaiting transportation.
There we had salt water bathing in the James river, which was very
refreshing after the hot and dusty march. We were hurried along and
made rather long marches. I had not recovered my full strength after
my illness at Harrison's Landing, but I managed to keep up by
lightening my burden. I threw away my knapsack and part of my
clothing, made a roll of the blanket and shelter tent, wrapping up in
it a change of underclothing and socks, and slung the roll over my
shoulder. I put on my newest shoes and threw the others away. All this
made marching easier for me. Many of my comrades did the same.
On August twentieth we embarked on a steamboat along with other troops
for Aquia Creek on the Potomac and had the usual overcrowded and
uncomfortable experience. We arrived on the twenty-second and were a
long time getting ashore by tugs. There was a railroad to
Fredericksburg, less than twenty miles away, and we were tumbled into
empty freight cars and upon platform cars and taken to Falmouth
Station, near Fredericksburg, where we disembarked in the evening and
bivouacked.
Next day, after receiving some rations, we started our march up the
north bank of the Rappahannock in the direction of Pope's army. The
other corps of the Army of the Potomac went up the Potomac river as
far as Alexandria, which gave them only half so long a march to join
Pope, as the Fifth Corps had had from Falmouth. General McClellan
accompanied the main part of the Army to Alexandria.
Our march up the Rappahannock and along the line of the Orange and
Alexandria railroad by the way of Bealton, Catlett's and Bristoe
Stations to Manassas was a severe one. The heat was so excessive that
a man in my company declared "the sun must be in the hydraulics!"
Parts of the country seemed to be destitute of water, which caused us
great suffering, and many were overcome and dropped by the wayside. We
did not have the muddy roads of the Peninsula, but we had an
intolerable amount of dust which hung in great clouds over the
marching columns and betrayed the movements of the opposing armies. As
we neared Bristoe Station, where a stretch of the railroad had been
torn up by the Rebels, we began to hear cannonading.
On the morning of the twenty-ninth we started at daybreak for
Centreville, passing Manassas Junction, where we saw the ruins of
locomotives, cars and immense quantities of rations and military
stores totally destroyed by fire a few days before when Jackson's army
had slipped around the bewildered General Pope's right and got in his
rear, between him and Washington.
We had only just passed Manassas when we were ordered to face about
and march in the direction from which we had come on the Warrenton
Pike towards Gainsville. Before reaching there some of Longstreet's
troops were encountered about noon, concealed in the woods near the
Manassas railroad. We took up a position near Bethlehem Church, massed
in the rear of the First Division as a reserve. Later in the afternoon
very heavy firing was heard some miles away to our right, where the
battle of Groveton was being fought. We had a strong force of
skirmishers out; so did the enemy. There was much firing between them
until dark and some movements as though we were forming for an attack,
with the object of preventing Longstreet from sending reinforcements
to Jackson at Groveton, but nothing came of it and we remained in our
position until daybreak, August thirtieth. The last issue of rations
had been, I think, at Warrenton Junction; we were nearly out, in fact
had lived on half-rations for the last day. During this night we
received a small allowance of hard-tack and nothing else.
On the morning of the thirtieth we marched by way of the Warrenton
Pike in the direction of yesterday's battle and took up a position
about noon near the center in a cornfield not far from the Pike, my
brigade forming the reserve in rear of the First Brigade. We were soon
under a heavy fire of shells from the Rebel batteries which kept up
with more or less vigor until the middle of the afternoon, when the
real battle commenced with General Butterfield's attack on the enemy,
strongly posted in a railroad cut towards the right. Historians have
described this bloody battle and how, about sundown, our army was
out-flanked and forced to retreat. It was about this time that Sykes's
regulars were ordered to retreat and did so in good order towards the
Henry house plateau, which commanded the road by which the army was
retreating in some disorder, towards the stone bridge over Bull Run.
Sykes's regulars assisted by some volunteer regiments checked
Longstreet's pursuit.
Here for the first time on that day my brigade became engaged with the
enemy at the edge of some timber through which they were advancing.
For nearly an hour we held our ground, delivering heavy volleys until
we were out-flanked, forced to retire, and the fight continued by
other troops.
General Warren's Third Brigade, consisting of the Fifth and Tenth New
York, about one thousand strong, had earlier in the evening, in an
isolated position, sustained the first onslaught of overwhelming
numbers of Longstreet's troops. In less than fifteen minutes this
small brigade sustained a loss of more than four hundred killed and
wounded, the Duryee Zouaves alone losing two hundred and ninety-seven
men, a greater loss than that of any other regiment in this battle.
During the two days my small regiment lost sixty-six killed and
wounded and, singular to relate, only one officer and one private were
killed outright; seven others, however, were missing and we did not
know what had become of them. The first sergeant of my company,
Rudolph Thieme, was among the missing, but no one had seen him fall. A
small detail from my regiment, which under a flag of truce recovered
Lieutenant Kidd's body, failed to find that of the sergeant, who was
an old soldier and expected soon to be commissioned. The mystery of
his disappearance was never solved.
When darkness came upon us and the firing ceased, except for a few
shots here and there, the second battle of Bull Run was over. We
marched by way of the Pike to the Stone Bridge, where we found an
indescribable scene of confusion. Ambulances, artillery, army wagons,
sutlers, wounded soldiers and stragglers were all crowding towards the
narrow bridge, colliding with organized bodies of marching troops and
destroying their formation. Slowly and with great difficulty we
crossed and re-formed on the other side, taking up our march to
Centreville and keeping off the road as much as possible to avoid the
confusion there. To add to our misery a steady rain had commenced
after dark and kept up all night. The retreat continued until
daylight, when the bridge was blown up. We reached Centreville about
midnight when, tired and exhausted, we lay on the wet ground and slept
until morning.
Able writers and critics have pointed out the monumental blunders of
General Pope which nearly caused the destruction of his army, and the
advantageous opportunities he failed to grasp, particularly where Lee
divided his army by sending Jackson to Manassas in his rear. They also
show his vindictiveness towards the meritorious General Porter, who
was cashiered after the Antietam campaign, but established his
innocence after a struggle which lasted for many years and was
restored to the army.
During the active part of this campaign General McClellan was
detained, by order of General Halleck, at Alexandria and ordered to
forward his troops as fast as they arrived from Harrison's Landing to
join Pope's army. This he did and they had all joined us in time to
take part in the battles of Groveton and the second Bull Run, except
Franklin's and Sumner's corps, who were still on the march. General
McClellan then found himself in the singular position of a commanding
general stripped of his army, with nothing but a few orderlies and
small camp guard. General Pope had sent a very favorably colored
report of the second Battle of Bull Run to General Halleck; but the
next day Colonel J. C. Kelton, A.A.G., was sent from the War
Department to Pope's army, and upon his return on September second
reported the true condition of affairs, which alarmed the President
and Cabinet and terrified the city of Washington. Pope's army was
ordered to retreat immediately within the fortifications of Washington
for the protection of the city. The administration now turned toward
McClellan again and placed him in command of the defenses of
Washington and the troops of Pope's defeated army as they arrived
within the fortifications.
The morning after the battle, August thirty-first, during a cold rain,
we were marched within the old Confederate works at Centreville and
encamped there. The day was quiet, but toward night there was a rumor
that a part of the Rebel army was on the move to turn our right and
intersperse between us and Washington. Next morning two army corps
were ordered to march in the direction of Chantilly, where that
afternoon a severe battle was fought which resulted in a victory for
the Union arms. Among our losses was the daring one-armed General
Kearney, one of the bravest officers in our army.
It was a race now to see which army would get to Washington first. We
could hear the firing at Chantilly and, while it was still going on
the Fifth Corps received orders to proceed to Fairfax Court House in a
hurry. After a weary night-march we arrived there on the morning of
September second and went into bivouac. The following morning we
resumed our march, taking the road towards Washington. The enemy was
close on our flank and there was some skirmishing just after leaving
Fairfax Court House. Late in the afternoon we saw the dome of the
Capitol and kept on, weary with the long march, until after dark, when
during a halt, we heard loud cheering in front. Soon word was passed
along that General McClellan had come out to meet us, and the cheering
was taken up by the entire corps. The General had only a very small
escort of soldiers and one officer with him, but his presence cheered
us and revived our depressed spirits. We felt that Washington was
safe.
The Fifth Corps encamped for several days on Hall's Hill. While at
this camp the skeleton battalions of the Second and Tenth United
States Infantry were consolidated under the command of Captain Poland
of the Second Infantry, the ranking officer, and henceforth we were
designated as the Battalion of the Second and Tenth Infantry; company
formations were not interfered with.
With the arrival of the army within the defenses of Washington the
enemy disappeared and on the fifth of September were reported to be
crossing the Potomac into Maryland. The cavalry of the Army of the
Potomac was promptly started on the march and quickly followed by the
artillery and infantry. The Fifth Corps left on the evening of the
sixth and crossed the Potomac on the Chain Bridge, then marched by way
of Tennalytown, Rockville and Monocacy to Frederick City, where we
arrived the twelfth of September. The roads were good, but very dusty;
the country was well cultivated and we got some fruit and plenty of
green corn on the way, roasting the ears at our camp-fires.
Next day our march was across the mountains to the Middletown Valley,
where we encamped near the foot of South Mountain. We could hear the
guns at Harper's Ferry, which was besieged by Stonewall Jackson. On
the afternoon and evening of the fourteenth General Reno had a battle
at Turner's Pass on South Mountain, part of which was visible from our
camps. The Rebels were driven from the mountain and retreated toward
Sharpsburg during the night. General Reno was killed near the close of
this action.
On the morning of the fifteenth we crossed the Blue Ridge by the road
across South Mountain leading to Sharpsburg, passing a part of the
battlefield, where we saw a number of dead Confederates beside the
road and in the fields where they had fallen the evening before. In
descending the western slope of the South Mountain we had some fine
views of the valley of the Antietam, the great fields of grain,
orchards and farm-houses--a beautiful picture of peace and plenty,
soon to be destroyed by the horrors of war. Our march was toward the
Central Bridge over the Antietam on the pike leading to Sharpsburg,
where we took up a position on the left of the road. The Rebels had
batteries on the opposite side of the Antietam on high ground, which
opened on us as soon as they saw us approaching; but they did us no
damage and we were soon under cover where their fire was returned by
two of our batteries.
The great Battle of Antietam, in which more than one hundred and fifty
thousand men and some hundreds of pieces of artillery were engaged on
the sixteenth and seventeenth days of September, is well described in
histories and was decidedly a Union victory. General McClellan is
severely criticized for allowing Lee and his army to escape across the
Potomac on the night of the eighteenth, and General Burnside for
dilly-dallying and delaying his attack on bridge number three, where
he could not see his glorious opportunity.
Porter's Fifth Army Corps held an important position in the center of
the line covering the reserve artillery and wagon-trains on the east
bank of the Antietam. It was here, in the center, that General
McClellan was most anxious that his line should not be broken, and he
relied on General Porter for that. The Fifth Corps was not engaged as
a body in this battle, but some brigades were detached from it at
various times to reinforce other parts of the field. We were much
exposed to the enemy's artillery fire and sharp-shooters at times. On
the second day of the battle my battalion, the Second and Tenth, were
ordered to cross the bridge about four P.M. to protect some light
batteries on the opposite side of the Antietam. We deployed as
skirmishers to the left of the road and while passing over a ridge
were fired at by the Rebel sharp-shooters and by a battery with
canister shot. We sustained considerable loss but kept on as far as a
fence, where we halted and commenced a fire which soon caused the
enemy's cannoneers to leave their guns; and although soon reinforced
by a part of the First Brigade, we were not considered strong enough
to charge and take this battery and were ordered by one of General
Sykes's aides-de-camp to withdraw from our dangerous position to a
place of cover, where we remained until sun-down and then re-crossed
the bridge and returned to our former position. Our small battalion
lost about fifty of its number, killed and wounded, in this
engagement.
The day after the battle we remained quietly in our position. The
Rebels, under flags of truce, were picking up their wounded and
burying some of their dead, while squads from our army performed the
same sad duties.
At daybreak on the morning of the nineteenth it was discovered that
the enemy had departed during the night and the last of their rear
guard was then crossing the Potomac at Shepherdstown ford. General
Porter's Corps was ordered to the ford. On the way we passed through a
part of the battlefield, which was still strewn with Rebel corpses.
Most of them had turned so black that they looked almost like negroes
and their heads and bodies had swollen to an enormous size. It was a
horrible sight. We passed through the town of Sharpsburg and beyond
that through some of the deserted Rebel camps, where fires were still
burning and there was every evidence of hasty departure.
When we approached the ford there was much artillery firing from Rebel
batteries posted on the hills on the other side of the Potomac, which
was replied to by some of our batteries. Sharp-shooters were posted at
the river-bank and canal, firing at the enemy opposite. Towards
evening a regiment of the First Division and the sharp-shooters
crossed the river by fording and found a lodgment on the other side,
capturing a few guns.
Early on the morning of the twentieth our brigade and the Fifth New
York of the Third Brigade were ordered to ford the river and make a
reconnaissance on the Charlestown road. General Sykes himself
accompanied the brigade. We deployed as skirmishers, advanced about a
mile and halted in some woods, when it was discovered that a large
force of the enemy was rapidly approaching with artillery. General
Sykes ordered the brigade to fall back slowly to the bluffs on the
river-bank. In the meantime Barnes's Brigade of the First Division of
the Fifth Corps had also crossed the river to go to Shepherdstown, but
General Sykes ordered them to take a position on the heights near
where they had crossed, to our right, where their skirmishers soon
became engaged with the approaching enemy and brought on a spirited
engagement. General Sykes, who informed General Porter of the large
force opposed to his two small brigades, was ordered immediately to
recross all the troops. This we were enabled to do in good order by
the aid of a number of our batteries, posted on the heights on the
Maryland side. These batteries delivered a destructive fire over our
heads which kept the enemy from the river-bank, or it would have gone
hard with us while fording the river. Before night all our troops had
recrossed the Potomac.
This engagement at Shepherdstown ended the Maryland campaign. The loss
on our side was about five hundred and, with the exception of
nineteen, was all in General Barnes's brigade. The loss in my
battalion was one killed and two wounded. Later it was learned that
the retreating foe had turned back nine brigades of infantry with
artillery under Generals Early and Hill to oppose us at Shepherdstown.
No doubt they over-estimated our numbers and thought we were an army
corps instead of two weak brigades. We then realized what great peril
we had been in.
A daring act was performed by First Sergeant Daniel W. Burke of
Company B, as we re-crossed the Potomac. He voluntarily attempted to
spike some abandoned Rebel guns near the shore under a withering fire
from the enemy. He received a commission soon after and was retired in
1899 as a brigadier-general and medal-of-honor man.
The next day we established a permanent camp in some woods near
Sharpsburg, where we remained for more than six weeks and received a
detachment of recruits during our stay, which somewhat replenished our
skeleton companies. Four companies of the Seventh Infantry also joined
our brigade at this place. They were a part of the troops surrendered
in Texas, who were paroled at the time and had since been exchanged.
A few days after we had settled down to our regular camp duties I was
much surprised when the first sergeant of my company informed me that
I had been detailed to report to Lieutenant Hawkins as brigade
commissary sergeant. This was promotion to a post usually filled by an
older and more experienced soldier. My comrades congratulated me and
said I was in luck to get that position--one that was greatly desired.
I was not much elated over it, however, and seriously considered
whether I should not ask to be excused and remain with my company.
By this time the sergeant major and half a dozen of the first
sergeants of the companies had received commissions as second
lieutenants, and without exception they made good officers and gave
the regiment a better character and standing than the inexperienced
civilians that had been inflicted upon us at the beginning of the war,
many of whom we had since got rid of. All of these sergeants were
older than I and had been longer in the service; I had only just
turned twenty-one and looked much younger. With the exceptions of
our two musicians, I was the youngest soldier in the company, until
some recruits joined us a while later. I had learned from the
sergeant major that my name had been mentioned in the regimental
report for good conduct in battle, along with those of some other
non-commissioned officers.
I had spoken to a couple of our officers, who were most friendly to
me, about applying for a commission, and was advised to wait until I
should be first sergeant of a company. This seemed a long way off, as
I was only the third sergeant of the company at the time. I realized
that if I left the company on special duty, to act as brigade
commissary sergeant, the man who remained in the ranks would get the
preference in promotion, other reasons being equal. On the other hand
the position offered many advantages and was less arduous than that of
a company officer. No more marching--I would have a horse to ride; no
more guard and picket duties; no more standing in ranks to be fired at
for hours by the enemy. The worst that had befallen the army trains
thus far had been guerrilla attacks and captures by the enemy. So far
I had been so lucky as to escape without a scratch, but I had seen
many of my comrades fall in battle while in the ranks, and it might be
my turn in the very next engagement. I decided to hold the position
and left my company to report to the acting commissary officer at
brigade headquarters. There was no extra pay attached to the position.
I was carried on the company's muster rolls as "absent on special
duty."
First Lieutenant Hamilton S. Hawkins of the Sixth United States
Infantry was acting as the brigade commissary and quartermaster. He
was a West Point graduate and a gentleman--one of the finest officers
I met in the service. He was very dignified, honorable and just, kind
and pleasant with his inferiors in rank--one of Nature's noblemen. In
after years he was called the "Sir Henry Havelock" of the American
Army. In the Spanish War he was a major-general of volunteers and
commanded the division that captured San Juan Hill. He retired in 1898
as a brigadier-general of the United States Army, and at his death
(which occurred recently) he was the governor of the Soldiers' Home in
Washington, D.C.
With Lieutenant Hawkins, as his chief assistant, was John W. Clous,
quartermaster sergeant of the Sixth United States Infantry, who acted
in the double capacity of brigade quartermaster and commissary
sergeant. It was to relieve him of the duties of the latter that I was
detailed. Sergeant Clous was a remarkable man and had a most honorable
and successful career in the army. He was well educated--a student--he
had served on the frontiers and was my senior by eight or ten years.
He became a second lieutenant in December, 1862; and after the war he
made a study of military law and became the professor of law, with the
rank of lieutenant colonel, at the Military Academy at West Point. At
the close of the Spanish War he was a brigadier-general and judge
advocate of the commission which settled the affairs between the
United States and Cuba. He retired as a brigadier-general in 1901 and
died a few years ago. Much to my regret, I never had the opportunity
of meeting either of these men after I left the army.
When I entered upon my new duties I found that I had much to learn,
but I had a very capable instructor in Sergeant Clous. He was
thoroughly familiar with all the rules and regulations of the
commissary department and the many forms for accounts and reports
which the admirable Government method of accounting for everything
demanded. We had a wall tent which we used for an office when in a
permanent camp, furnished with two small field desks and a folding
table. When in camp Sergeant Clous and I slept in this tent; on the
march we slept under the clear skies or in a wagon when it rained. Our
little detachment included a clerk and three men to load and unload
wagons and assist in issuing rations. One of these men was also the
butcher who slaughtered the beef cattle when we had any, killing the
cattle with a rifle and dressing the carcass. Another did the cooking
for our mess and the third man took care of Sergeant Clous's horse and
mine, besides his other duties. These men were all soldiers detailed
for special duties, temporarily absent from their companies and, like
myself, liable to be ordered back to duty in the ranks at any time.
There was also a wagonmaster who was a civilian, as were also most of
the teamsters; he had charge of our supply train under orders from the
commissary officer. When in camp Lieutenant Hawkins, who had a private
servant, generally stayed at brigade headquarters, but while at
Sharpsburg he had his tent for a time in a grove along with the
officers of his regiment. I remember that his mother visited him there
and remained for some days. She was a very fine, motherly lady who
adored her son.
While the army was at Sharpsburg all of its supplies had to be hauled
from Hagerstown, Maryland, about twenty miles away, which was the
nearest railroad depot. There was a good turn-pike road all the way
from Sharpsburg, which passed through the recent battle-field, on
which the Dunkard church was a conspicuous mark. It was one of my
duties to draw supplies at Hagerstown once a week or oftener. I was
provided with the necessary requisitions, signed by Lieutenant Hawkins
and countersigned by the brigade commander, given charge of as many
wagons as were required and accompanied by the wagonmaster. We
generally made an early morning start so as to arrive in Hagerstown
early in the afternoon, loading the wagons on the same day, then going
into camp for the night, and returning to Sharpsburg the following
day. This could not always be done, as the place was crowded with army
wagons on the same business and it was a case of first come, first
served. I always rode on ahead to get my requisition on file, and if
we could not be attended to on that day, I rode back to meet my train
and park them in some field on the outskirts of the town. It often
took two days and a night to make the trip, sometimes more.
On one occasion, after the train had been parked, it became necessary
for me to return to the town, and as my horse had cast a shoe, I had
my saddle put on one of the teamster's riding mules. It was my first
experience in riding a mule. I got along well enough for a short
distance until I came to the ford of a small stream, where we were in
the habit of watering our animals. I stopped to let the mule drink and
then started to cross, but he was determined to go back to the train.
I next tried to cross an adjoining bridge with the same result. I
coaxed him, I dismounted and tried to lead him, I remounted and did
all that could be done to a mule with a pair of spurs and strong
language, much to the amusement of some soldier spectators, who
advised me to build a fire under him. I could not make him go to
Hagerstown, but he willingly went back to camp, to my discomfiture,
and I had to borrow the wagonmaster's horse to make the trip.
We were paid while in the Sharpsburg camp and I was able to buy fresh
bread and other things for our mess while in town. The bread tasted
mighty good after being on hard-tack for six months. I also regaled
myself a few times with a real dinner in a tavern at the extravagant
price of twenty-five cents. Nearly all through October the weather was
delightful and I enjoyed the trips to town immensely; the days were
warm, but the nights began to be cool enough for camp-fires.
President Lincoln visited the army on the first of October and
remained with General McClellan for several days. Near the middle of
October General Stuart of the Confederate Army made a swift raid with
two thousand cavalry-men and a battery of horse artillery into
Pennsylvania and around the Army of the Potomac, as he had done on the
Peninsula. He was almost unopposed, as our cavalry--never equal to
that of the Confederates in number--was at this time broken down,
scattered and so reduced in numbers by the late campaign that not a
thousand serviceable horses could be mounted. After Stuart's raid the
road to Hagerstown was patrolled by cavalry.
When not on the road I was kept busy in camp issuing rations and
making up accounts. At this time the system was for the brigade
commissary to issue rations to companies on the requisition of the
officer commanding the company, approved by the commander of the
regiment. Companies subdivided their rations among themselves. While
in camp issues of rations were made about once a week, except fresh
meat, which was issued on days when cattle was slaughtered.
Provisions for officers and their servants, according to regulations
of the commissary department, could only be sold to them for cash and
on their certificate that they were for their own use; for the
Government sold commissary stores to officers at cost, less the cost
of freight, but for their own use only. The rule of selling for cash
only could not be enforced strictly in war times, but the commissary
officer made himself liable for any credit he chose to extend. Sales
to officers were made during fixed hours of the morning; money
received and vouchers for same were turned over to the commissary
officer daily. As commissary sergeant I soon found that I was really
gaining the experience of a manager for a large grocery firm.
Issues of whiskey to troops, one gill per day, were only made on the
order of the brigade commander in cases of excessive fatigue or severe
exposure. Officers could purchase all they wanted, if they stated in
their written orders to the commissary that it was for their own use
and signed their names. Some good-natured officers who hardly drank at
all, seemed to buy much whiskey, for they frequently gave one of their
company sergeants an order which read something like this: "Let the
bearer have one canteen full of whiskey for my use." Others more
scrupulous omitted the words "for my use," knowing the order would not
be filled in that case; but I suspect that in some cases the soldier
added the necessary words to the order which he himself had written
after the unsuspecting officer had signed it.
Sometimes stores became damaged or were received in a damaged
condition, when a board of survey was appointed by the commanding
officer to ascertain the amount of damage, for the commissary officer
was virtually obliged to account for every cracker he received. There
seemed to be no end to the many accounts we had to keep and reports to
make out, but it was an instructive business experience for me.
On the sixth of October General McClellan received an order from
Washington to cross the Potomac and give battle to the enemy or drive
him South while the roads were good. At this time the army was in no
condition to move for want of supplies which arrived very tardily, and
it was not until the end of October, when bad weather had set in, that
the first part of the troops re-crossed the Potomac. During all this
time the authorities at Washington and the Northern papers were
accusing McClellan of being dilatory and demanding his removal. The
Fifth Army Corps left Sharpsburg on the thirtieth and crossed the
Potomac next day at Harper's Ferry, while the train crossed on a
pontoon bridge at Berlin, some distance further south. Riding a horse
was a very agreeable change from marching in the ranks and carrying a
heavy load. All I carried now on my person was a large Colt's
revolver. To my McClellan saddle was strapped an overcoat and a
canteen of water, while the saddle-bags held some cooked meat and
crackers and a pipe and tobacco.
The roads were fairly good on the start until we neared the Blue Ridge
Mountains. Being again in the enemy's country, the train had a guard
of some infantry and a small detachment of cavalry. The chief
quartermaster of the Fifth Army Corps was in charge of our train and
directed its movements.
On November second we rejoined our brigade at the small town of
Snickersville. That evening Sykes's division was ordered to occupy
Snicker's Gap and make a reconnaissance to Snicker's Ferry on the
Shenandoah. I was ordered to follow the troops with a couple of wagons
and issue some rations to my brigade. The ascent to the top of the Gap
where the troops rested for the night was steep and wearisome; the
night was dark and cold, and when we arrived on the mountain-top,
late, a strong wind was blowing. I snatched a little sleep in one of
the wagons and issued the rations at daylight.
Part of the division descended the Gap towards the Shenandoah in the
morning but did not cross, and during the day an artillery engagement
occurred between some of the Rebels on the opposite side of the river
and the Sixth and Fourteenth United States Infantry. After taking a
long look at the beautiful and fertile valley of the Shenandoah at our
feet I started back to our camp. On the way down the mountain we had a
mishap; one of the teamsters struck a boulder and broke a wheel, which
caused delay and we were obliged to cut down a small tree and rig up a
drag to get the wagon back to the camp.
We remained in camp until Sykes's division was withdrawn from
Snicker's Gap and resumed our march east of the Blue Ridge by way of
White Plains and New Baltimore to Warrenton, where we arrived on the
ninth of November. On our march to White Plains we had a wet snow
nearly all day, which made the roads bad. At Warrenton we learned that
General McClellan had been relieved from the command of the Army of
the Potomac and Major General Ambrose E. Burnside placed in command.
General McClellan's enemies in the Cabinet, together with Halleck, the
bureaucratic general, had finally prevailed in their schemes to cause
the President to relieve him. The following day, the tenth, that part
of the army which was at Warrenton was drawn up along the turnpike and
General McClellan's farewell address was read to them; then came
hearty cheering, as the General rode down between the lines of the
troops, bidding them farewell. The army was sad over the loss of a
commander who had their affection and confidence.
Two days later the Fifth Corps had another sad parting scene when
their old commander, Major General Fitz-John Porter, was relieved and
ordered to report at Washington. Major General Joseph Hooker was now
placed in command of the corps.
General Burnside did not seek--nor did he wish--to take the command of
the Army of the Potomac, frankly declaring himself inadequate for that
exalted position. In this he was prophetic, and in a month proved it
to the mournful knowledge of the army and the entire country.
We remained about a week at Warrenton. General Burnside formed the six
corps of the army into what were to be called the Right, Center and
Left Grand Divisions, commanded respectively by Generals Sumner,
Hooker and Franklin. The Right Grand Division was composed of the
Second and Ninth Corps; the Center of the Third and Fifth, and the
Left of the First and Sixth Corps, General Hooker being selected, as I
have mentioned, as one of the Grand Division commanders. General
Daniel Butterfield was appointed to command the Fifth Army Corps,
which Hooker had commanded only for a few days.
We left Warrenton on the seventeenth and went by way of Warrenton
Junction and Hartwood Church to the vicinity of Falmouth, near
Fredericksburg, and parked the Fifth Corps train, establishing a camp
near the Henry house on the twenty-third of November. This march was a
very severe one, as we had a cold rain nearly every day and the roads
were execrable. Wagons were stalled in the mud, teams had to be
doubled to pull them out, the road was blockaded for hours at a time,
and it was very late at night when we caught up with the troops, who
were in bivouac long before our arrival.
It soon became very cold and we experienced the rigors of a winter
campaign. The soldiers built little log huts and shacks, roofed them
with their shelter tents, and built earth and stone fireplaces, the
chimneys terminating in a flour or pork barrel which often caught
fire. For an office and a place to sleep I had a wall tent with a camp
stove in it. We fixed up a kitchen and, with the aid of tarpaulins,
erected a few store-houses for the protection of the commissary
stores, which were guarded by a sentinel. The railroad from Aquia
Creek on the Potomac was quickly repaired and we drew our supplies at
a railroad switch about two miles from the camp.
On evenings when I was at leisure I often visited my regiment to talk
with my comrades. Some sat around camp-fires built in the company
streets, others played cards in their little huts. Tricks were often
played upon the card-players, such as covering the barrel chimney with
a gunny-bag and smoking them out; or some more mischievous man would
throw percussion caps down the chimney, or a few paper cartridges,
which scattered their fire and broke up the game for a while. On some
days when three or four inches of snow had fallen and then melted to a
soft slush, the soldiers were in misery; and at other times they
suffered from cold, which was very severe for that latitude.
As General Burnside had determined to cross the Rappahannock and
attack the enemy at Fredericksburg, I was ordered on the tenth of
December to issue five days' marching rations to the brigade and then
to load all stores into the wagons and be ready to leave camp when
ordered. On the morning of the eleventh, before daybreak we heard the
booming of cannon in the direction of Fredericksburg, three miles
away, where the engineer troops were preparing to lay pontoon bridges
across the river. Shortly after daylight the Fifth Corps began its
march towards the river and the train followed the troops. On our
arrival at the river-bank the corps and train were massed behind the
batteries on Stafford Heights, which overlooked the river, the town
and much of the country beyond, although a heavy fog enveloped the
town during the early morning hours and hid it from view. The
engineers, engaged in laying the pontoons, were opposed by such a
destructive fire from the Rebel sharp-shooters concealed in the houses
and in rifle-pits on the opposite side of the river that they were
obliged to cease operations and retire to cover, although some troops
on our side of the river kept firing on the sharp-shooters.
About ten o'clock General Burnside ordered the one hundred and
forty-seven guns on Stafford Heights to shell the town, which was done
for nearly two hours. The noise was terrific. During this bombardment
I made my way to the front, alongside of one of our batteries, where I
had a good view of the effect of our terrible fire on the city about a
mile away, until the smoke from bursting shells and burning buildings
obscured the view. The Rebel batteries on the heights beyond the town
made little attempt to reply to our fire; only a few long-range guns
could reach us, and they did little damage in my vicinity. When our
bombardment ceased it was found that it had failed to dislodge the
sharp-shooters, as our guns could not be depressed enough for the
shells to hit the houses on the river-bank.
It was after the shelling ceased that the Nineteenth Massachusetts and
the Seventh Michigan regiments, which were at the river-front,
volunteered to cross the river in pontoon boats and drive away the
sharp-shooters. This they did in gallant style, under fire. Two
bridges were completed at four thirty P.M. and troops began to cross,
continuing all night and the following day. Sykes's division was held
in reserve and did not cross until the afternoon of the thirteenth.
Very few wagons were sent over besides ammunition wagons.
Lieutenant Hawkins sent me with a written message to brigade
headquarters about sundown on the same day. I went on foot, past the
Lacey house (which was Burnside's headquarters during the battle and
was also used as a hospital) down the hill to the river and across a
pontoon bridge. I found my brigade halted in one of the streets near
the edge of the town, preparing to march out and relieve some of the
troops on the front line. I delivered my letter to Major Andrews, the
brigade commander, who returned the envelope to me marked in pencil
with his name and time of delivery, as was customary.
On my way back to the pontoon bridge I had time to say a few words to
my comrades in the regiment as I passed them. The streets were dark,
but there was light enough to distinguish the effects of the
bombardment and the burnt houses of two days before. I walked in the
middle of the street while passing through some of the residence
blocks, for the brick sidewalks were littered with chairs, sofas,
bedding and all manner of household goods from the looted houses,
which had been thrown out by some of our soldiers who had bivouacked
in the street the night before. Some of the stragglers were still in
the houses; in one of them I heard some soldiers playing a piano. We
had been told that a number of women and children had remained in
town, hiding in cellars, but I saw none of them, although I did see a
number of corpses lying about on the sidewalks and in the streets, and
wounded soldiers making their way to hospitals which had been
established in the public buildings and many of the private houses.
Nearer the river business buildings and stores had been looted and the
contents scattered over the street. In passing through one of these
streets I picked up a book as a souvenir and when I examined it later
on in camp I found the name of Alexander H. Stevens written in it. He
was the vice-president of the Confederacy. At the bridge I was stopped
by the guard and was obliged to explain my business to the officer in
command and exhibit my envelope before being allowed to re-pass the
river.
The story of the Battle of Fredericksburg covers the saddest pages in
the history of the war. From it we learn how Burnside planned this
battle, then lost his head and followed no particular plan; how he
stubbornly hurled division after division in a front attack on the
impregnable position on Marye's Heights against the advice of his
corps commanders; how thousands were sacrificed in this bloody and
most useless slaughter of the war; the indescribable sufferings of the
wounded to whom no help could be extended, many of whom were frozen
during the winter nights. The rank and file themselves knew the
hopelessness of the attack, and yet bravely made three more charges
after the first had been nearly annihilated.
Sykes's division was not called upon to take part in the direct
assault, but on the night of the thirteenth took up a position which
at daylight proved to be in a depression so shallow that to raise a
limb while lying down or to turn over, meant surely to be wounded; and
some who tried to get to the rear for water immediately fell lifeless,
pierced by many balls. No help could be given to the wounded--they
were obliged to lie and wait until night, when the command was enabled
to creep away. In our brigade eighty men were killed and wounded,
mostly while hugging the cold earth all that day and having no chance
to inflict any damage on the enemy except for a little while the
previous evening.
The army was skillfully withdrawn on the night of the fifteenth during
a violent rain-storm. The First Brigade of General Sykes's regulars,
and General Warren's Third Brigade covered the retreat. When these
troops had crossed some time after daylight on the seventeenth, the
engineers cast the pontoons loose and none remained behind in the
death-trap into which Burnside had led the army, except the many
thousands of our wounded, their surgeons and some prisoners. The army
returned to its former locations and re-established its camps.
The morale of the army was much impaired by this battle; it had lost
confidence in its commander which could never be restored, and for the
first time the Army of the Potomac might be considered demoralized.
Christmas and New Year's passed, celebrated among the volunteers by
the reception of thousands of boxes containing gifts and good things
from their friends at home; but few of the regulars had any friends to
remember them. The only exception to the usual routine on those two
days was the issuing of a gill of whiskey by the commissary.
But we were not yet done with General Burnside. Once more he tried to
surprise the vigilant enemy. On January sixteenth orders were issued
to prepare to march on the eighteenth, then were countermanded and it
was not until noon of the twentieth that the movement started--which
gave the enemy plenty of time to learn of it through their spies and
be prepared for us. The weather had been severely cold for some time
and the roads frozen hard. We marched about five miles towards the
Rappahannock in a direction to bring us above Fredericksburg at Banks'
Ford, not fordable at this time, and halted for the night, when rain
began to fall and continued throughout the night.
The next day when the movement was resumed, the storm was worse. Soon
the roads were blocked by artillery and wagons stalled in quagmire;
and pontoons were upset and laid along the road, the condition of
which was appalling. It seemed as though the elements were determined
that Burnside should not again lead the army into disaster. Before
night the army was literally mud-bound and was unable to advance or
retreat; large details of infantry tried to help pull the artillery
and wagons out of the clayey and sticky roads, ineffectually; then
thousands of men were put to work to fell trees to corduroy and to
build new stretches of road. Though the rain ceased on the evening of
the second day, men and animals continued to suffer greatly while
trying to extricate the teams. Some of the horses and mules that
dropped exhausted in their traces were drowned, so deep was the liquid
mud in places. It took four days of Herculean toil to enable the army
to return to their camps again. My train did not fare so badly as some
others, for we halted at the end of the first day's march and remained
there for three days. During that time we issued some rations of hard
bread and sugar and coffee to replace what had been spoiled by the
fierce rain in the men's haversacks. As the wagons could not move to
get to the brigade, details of soldiers had to come and get these
rations and carry them for miles on their backs to their comrades.
This was "Burnside's Mud March," never to be forgotten by those who
participated in it. The Rebel pickets on the opposite side of the
Rappahannock in derision put up some large sign-boards marked,
"Burnside stuck in the mud!" "This way to Richmond!"
On January twenty-fifth, directly after our return from the "Mud
March," General Burnside resigned the command of the Army of the
Potomac and was later on given a command in the West. There was no
farewell parade, as there had been for Generals McClellan and Porter a
little more than two months before. He had lost the confidence of the
army and the support of the Administration, and had drawn upon himself
the censure of the press and the people for his useless sacrifice of
thousands of human lives.
General Joseph Hooker was now placed in command of the army, "Fighting
Joe Hooker," as the soldiers called him, an officer fairly well liked
in the army but not possessing the entire confidence of the corps
commanders as to his fitness for the position. General Hooker made
many changes. He did away with the Grand Division formation. In the
Fifth Corps he made Major General George G. Meade the commander, in
place of Butterfield, who became his Chief of Staff. We lost General
Warren, the commander of our Third Brigade; he became the Chief of
Topographical Engineers on General Hooker's staff. Distinctive corps
badges were ordered to be worn on the cap or hat of each officer and
soldier; headquarters of each brigade, division and corps had a
standard with a device the shape and color of which indicated at a
glance that part of the army they typified. The badge of the Fifth
Army Corps was in the shape of a Maltese cross of red for the First
Division, white for the second, blue for the third, and green when
there was a fourth division. These badges proved to be very useful
when arresting stragglers and returning them to their command. They
were made of cloth, one and one-half inches square. We wore them to
the end of the war.
After the "Mud March" the soldiers rebuilt their huts and made
themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances; but the
winter proved to be an unusually severe one for Virginia. We had much
snow and some very cold periods. Many furloughs were granted,
absentees returned, and recruits arrived. The commissary issued full
rations, often including fresh bread which had been baked in
Washington and could be issued within two days. Some regiments drew
flour and baked their own bread.
After Fredericksburg there was much Confederate money in some of the
camps which had been plundered from the banks and houses. It soon
became widely distributed through poker playing and it was no uncommon
thing to find games for large stakes going on in the tents at night.
Expressions such as "I'll see you, and raise you a hundred dollars!"
were often heard; some had thousands of dollars. Much of this money
was sent away as souvenirs, much of it was lost or destroyed; some, in
a spirit of bravado, lit their pipes with ten-dollar bills--much to
their vexation, when later on a man came along, offering to pay three
cents on the dollar for the Confederate money.
While in this camp Sergeant Clous was promoted, becoming Second
Lieutenant in the Sixth Infantry. He had instructed me so well in my
duties that by this time I was competent to get along unassisted. I
also lost Lieutenant Hawkins, who remained Brigade Quartermaster but
was replaced as Commissary by First Lieutenant William F. Greeley of
the Eleventh United States Infantry, a civilian appointee from New
Hampshire. I got along very well with him and never had any trouble
while he remained Commissary Officer; my only objection to him was
that in many difficult situations he let me find my own way out of
trouble without his advice or assistance. At this time I traded my
rather large gray horse for a smaller dark bay, an intelligent and
kindly-disposed animal of whom I became very fond. I called him Tommy,
and among other tricks I taught him to push his head through the
opening of my tent and beg for a cracker or sugar.
The winter seemed long and dreary. In April reviews were held and
there was much drilling. By the middle of April the Army of the
Potomac had increased in numbers to about one hundred and ten thousand
infantry and artillery, and about eleven thousand cavalry, and was
once more ready and eager for active service.