THE NORTH CAROLINA CAMPAIGN
On shipbound. Burial at sea. At Hatteras Inlet. Battle of Roanoke Island.
Battle of Newbern. Reading Johnnies' love letters. Athletics. Battle of
Camden. Went to the relief of the 2d Maryland.
Although we went on board ship the 6th of January, 1862, we did not leave
port until the 9th. General Reno, our brigade commander, came on board the
7th and we were much pleased that he was to be with us on our ship during
the voyage.
The morning of the 9th we moved down the bay; late in the afternoon the
weather grew thick and we anchored for the night. The next day about noon,
the fog having lifted, we moved on and about sunset sailed into Hampton
Roads and anchored with a number of other ships of the squadron not far
from Fortress Monroe.
The "Northerner" was a large boat, but a thousand men aboard made her very
much crowded.
Between ten and eleven o'clock the night of the 11th, amid a furore of
signals, whistles, ringing of bells, etc., we left Hampton Roads and
headed out to sea. I had turned in when we started but soon realized that
we had left the placid waters of Chesapeake Bay, and that the good ship
"Northerner" was plowing its way through the waves of the open ocean.
It was midwinter. The wind was blowing strongly; the ship rolled and
plunged and as I lay in my bunk I soon became aware that many of the boys
were sea-sick. I felt a little peculiar myself, but decided the best thing
for me to do was to lie right still in my bunk. I soon went to sleep and
slept until morning. As soon as I got up I was sick, too. I ate no
breakfast and was sick most of the forenoon, but during the afternoon my
stomach became settled and during the rest of the voyage I was able to eat
and was as well as usual.
The next day our destination was revealed. We were bound for Hatteras
Inlet and the North Carolina coast. The cape, a narrow belt of sand, came
into view. The waves breaking on the sand made a white line all along the
cape and we could hear the roar of the breaking waves. The forts at the
inlet that looked like two piles of earth could be distinguished but the
sea was too rough to attempt to enter the inlet so we anchored in a
sheltered place and waited until the next day when the wind and sea having
quieted down we were able to pass safely through the inlet.
Cape Hatteras is known to mariners as a rough, stormy place. The wind
blows almost a gale there nearly all the time. We were thus heartily glad
when we found ourselves safely inside the inlet. Our ship was among the
first to arrive inside; for many days ships of the squadron continued to
come in.
This was the first trip on the ocean for many of us, but while it was very
rough and fraught with exposure and danger, the spirit of adventure was so
strong among the boys that on the whole it was welcome experience.
After we arrived in harbor we learned that the captain of the ship was
found dead drunk, by General Reno, the night of the 12th, at the very most
critical time when we were approaching the inlet. He was put under arrest
and command of the ship was turned over to the first mate. The captain
intended to run into the inlet that night, which would have been a very
perilous thing to attempt.
Just before running into the inlet we witnessed a new and weird
ceremony,--burial at sea. The night of January 12th and 13th two men had
died on board; one a Company A man, and a Company B man. They were each
put into a canvas sack with a 32-pound ball at the feet and dropped
overboard.
The basin where we were anchored was simply a deep hole just inside the
inlet. It was large enough to accommodate ten or fifteen ships
comfortably, but towards the last of our stay there, when all or nearly
all the ships of the squadron had arrived, and there were seventy or
eighty ships there, the place became dangerously crowded.
Soon after reaching the inlet it was discovered that the "Northerner" and
some other vessels drew too much water (nine feet) to cross the bar which
had only eight feet of water at high tide, to admit of their passing into
the sound. We lay there from the 13th until the 26th when, after the
regiment and everything else that was movable had been transferred to
other vessels, three tugs succeeded in dragging the "Northerner" across
the bar. The two weeks we lay anchored in that basin seemed like months.
All one could see was sky, water and the cape, a narrow strip of sand
stretching off to the north and south, the whole a picture of desolation.
The ocean waves came pouring and thundering unceasingly in from the east,
pounding the cape as if determined to force their way into the sound. The
wind blew a gale and it rained most of the time. The sun shone only twice
during the two weeks. On account of the delay, the water supply ran short
and but for the rain we would have suffered for water.
Two ships of the squadron never made the inlet. The "City of New York," a
freighter loaded with tents, ammunition, etc., ran onto the rocks and
went to pieces trying to make the inlet. The "Pocahontas," another
freighter, loaded with horses, went ashore some distance up the coast. One
day the colonel and surgeon of the 9th New Jersey Regiment came into the
inlet in a rowboat from their ship outside, for orders. They got their
orders and started back, but were swamped in the breakers in plain sight
of us. The ships were continually dragging anchor and running into each
other. Just before we got across the bar it became known that we were
bound up Pamlico Sound to attack Roanoke Island.
Life became more bearable after we got across the bar out into the sound.
The storm had passed off, the sun came out. We received our first mail
from home the 28th. The gunboats practiced firing at targets and we boys
practiced firing at ducks and gulls with our revolvers.
February 5th we started up the sound, the gunboats taking the lead. It was
a handsome sight, eighty ships in all, forty gunboats, and about the same
number of other ships carrying the troops, baggage, provisions,
ammunition, etc. The naval part was under the command of Flag Officer
Goldsborough. At about five o'clock we anchored in plain sight of Roanoke
Island. We were enveloped in a dense fog all day the 6th and did not
move, and saw nothing. To break the monotony, Colonel Maggi got us
together on the hurricane deck and made a speech. Considering their
brevity, as well as his accent which was very Italian, his speeches were
very funny. This one was about like the following: "Soldiers ob de 21st,
to-day you be 21st, tomorrow you be 1st."
February 7th at nine o'clock we moved on, the gunboats leading the way,
and they were soon engaged first with some Confederate gunboats, then with
the forts on the island, the rebel gunboats retiring behind a line of
obstructions.
The battle between our gunboats and the forts continued more or less
fiercely all day. In the middle of the afternoon Fort Bartou, the fort
nearest us, was practically silenced. At four o'clock we began to load
into small boats preparatory to making a landing, and at five o'clock
three or four thousand Union troops were on the island.
We landed at Ashby's Cove, on the edge of a large field, where the water
was sufficiently shallow to enable us to get ashore from small boats there
being no landing of any kind on that side of the island. The boat I was in
ran up into a lot of bogs and grass. As I sprang from the boat I made a
good jump and landed on a large bog and got ashore with only wet feet,
but one of the boys who followed me made a less successful jump and landed
in three feet of water. Just at that moment we saw the light flash on
bayonets just across the field in the edge of the wood, and we expected
the Johnnies would open fire on us every minute, but they did not, nor did
we open fire on them. Soon we were up to the edge of the wood where we had
seen the flashes of light on the bayonets. There was a road there and what
we had seen evidently was flashes on the guns of a company of soldiers
passing along that road.
Early in the evening it began to rain and it rained most of the night. By
putting on my rubber blanket which protected my body, arms and legs, my
havelock kept the rain out of my face and neck, then with a stick of wood
on which to sit on the leeward side of a tree trunk, I kept myself dry and
got through the night fairly comfortably and got quite a little rest.
About seven o'clock the morning of the 8th the first brigade moved past us
down the road leading to the Confederate barracks and forts. About half a
mile down that road the Johnnies had built an earthwork and mounted
cannon. The first brigade, as it approached the earthwork, moved to the
right to attack the fort on the left flank. Two little brass howitzers
manned by sailors went next and we followed them until we were in sight
of the fort, when we moved to the left to attack the fort on the right
flank. As we got into position the Confederates finding themselves
out-flanked on both sides, retreated. The road in front of the fort was
the only dry land on that side and it was occupied by the sailors and
their howitzers. The fort, however, was built at the end of a tongue of
dry land extending toward us. This tongue of land was completely enveloped
in front and the two sides with shallow water, the troops on both sides
thus operated in water from one to three feet deep.
Directly after losing their entrenched position, the rebels surrendered,
we marched over to their barracks and went into camp. That night we had a
fine supper and slept in fine, comfortable quarters, the first time we had
slept in a real comfortable place since leaving Annapolis.
Just before we started to charge, the moment intervening between the order
to cease firing and the order to advance, George Booth was wounded in the
mouth; he was talking to me at the time and the ball entered his mouth,
leaving no mark on his lips, knocked out two or three teeth and passed
through his neck. He died in the hospital about a month and a half later.
It is always interesting to analyze the feelings one had when going into
battle, especially the first one; the feelings of the same man differ so
much, however, on going into different battles my belief is that much
depends upon the state of the nervous system at the time.
It is very well known that the bravest men have on certain occasions been
very much depressed before going into certain battles, yet went through
them doing very brave things and came out unscratched. On some occasions,
I do not remember that my feelings were exceptional at all, while on other
occasions I remember distinctly feeling very nervous. The times that were
the most difficult for me to control myself were when we were ordered to
hold a position and being without ammunition we had nothing to do to
employ our minds but just stay there and take the enemy's fire, such an
instance as occurred at Antietam on the ridge in the afternoon of the
fight.
At Roanoke Island the idea most prominent in my mind as we went into our
first fight was the desire to see a Johnnie and then perhaps to get a shot
at him. Any fear of going in or possible result did not occur to me. It is
impossible to say this in relation to some of the great battles in which I
took part later on, for my desire to see Johnnies was satisfied long
before the war ended.
The day after the fight, Colonel Maggi took the regiment over into a big
fort on the west side of the island, formed us around a big cannon there,
then climbed up onto the gun carriage and with a big black cannon for a
back ground made speech number two. This was like speech number one
delivered on the "Northerner," but with variations. It was about as
follows: "Soldiers ob de 21st, yesterday you be 21st. I tol you to-day you
be 1st, you be 1st." Flag Officer Gouldsborough, Commander of the Naval
Squadron, was in the fort and he also made a speech to us. He was a big
massively built, handsome man with a large full beard. He made the
impression of being every inch a naval commander.
The day we landed on Roanoke Island, February 7th, there died on the
steamer, "Northerner" one of the most interesting men in the regiment,
Charles Plummer Tidd. He was a personal friend of Dr. Cutter, the surgeon
and had been a personal friend and follower of John Brown. He had been in
Kansas with them and with the latter at Harper's Ferry from which place
he, with two others, made their escape. He enlisted in the 21st because
Dr. Cutter was there, under the name of Charles Plummer; he enlisted as a
private in Company K, and soon after was its orderly sergeant which
office he held at the time of his death. Plummer was buried on Roanoke
Island, and Miss Cutter, to whom he had just become engaged, was buried
beside him. Later, however, both were taken up and buried in the National
Cemetery at Newbern.
Just before we left the island, Colonel Maggi resigned. Colonel Maggi was
a military educated Italian, and it was said had seen service under
Garibaldi. He wished to enforce the same kind of military discipline in
our regiment that is maintained in the regular army. Our boys, as
volunteers, would not submit to it; there was trouble and he resigned. It
was a very unfortunate thing; he was a fine officer and his loss was very
much regretted. In addition to this, all our company officers left us.
Captain Washburn and Lieutenant Williams disobeyed orders and were
dismissed. Lieutenant Sermondy, who enlisted in the company in the hope
that he might become Chaplain of the regiment, having failed in obtaining
the appointment, and doubtless having seen all the fighting he cared to,
resigned and went home. This put Company K in an awkward position. Second
Lieutenant Charles W. Davis of Company A, was promoted to the rank of
First Lieutenant, and put in command of the company.
During the time we remained on the island we drilled a little in addition
to guarding the prisoners who were soon sent to Elizabeth City and
paroled. March 4th we went on board the "Northerner" again. The sailors of
the old ship had her gaily decorated for the occasion and we were welcomed
on board again most cordially.
Not until the 11th did we move, then at night we dropped down the sound to
near Hatteras Inlet. On the morning of the 12th we started down Pamlico
Sound toward the mouth of the Neuse River. We were then told we were
headed for Newbern, and up the river we sailed until we came to the mouth
of Slocum's Creek, a small stream emptying its waters into the right side
of the Neuse about fifteen miles below Newbern. Here we anchored for the
night.
The next day we were engaged most of the forenoon in landing, which was
accomplished without interference, and about noon we started up the right
bank of the river toward Newbern. We soon struck the railroad connecting
Newbern and Beaufort and an extensive earthwork, and farther on toward
Newbern still another, and a cavalry camp with a considerable quantity of
provisions. Later on in the afternoon we reached the immediate front of
the enemy's last line of works filled with soldiers and a fort with
cannon mounted. Here they evidently intended to make a stand. We halted
for the night and our company was thrown out in front of us as a picket
line. That was the first time I had been on picket duty right in front of
the enemy, and if I remember rightly, I kept very much awake that night.
Early in the morning we had coffee and directly started forward to the
attack. The ground in our immediate front was uneven and as we passed over
a little hill we came in sight of the Johnnies filing into their works in
front of us. As we moved down the hill and across a narrow valley with a
small stream winding through it, other troops appeared on the little hill
we had just passed over. The Johnnies opened fire on them, we moved up to
the brow of the next rise of ground and opened fire. Thus the battle in
that part of the line began.
A thing happened as we were making our way across the little stream just
mentioned that afforded the boys some amusement. The stream was too wide
to ford but there were places where one could jump across. Picking their
way across in that way, to be sure, broke the line up pretty badly. It was
just at that time the Johnnies opened fire on the troops in our immediate
rear on the little hill. The Johnnies' opening fire was vigorous. There
was a terrific roar of musketry and the way the balls tore through the
treetops over our heads sounded peculiar enough, but we were protected,
being so low down. One of the officers of our company had been a member of
a country band at home, furnishing music for balls and dancing parties
about the country. He had been the prompter, had called off the different
dances. As we were getting across that stream in the midst of the roar
from the Confederate musketry the officer referred to, became very much
excited and danced around furiously ordering the company to keep in line,
etc. None of the boys were particularly disturbed, but the officer
referred to was very much excited. The boys noticed this, and directly
some one piped up "All promenade." Instantly another sang out, "Ladies,
grand change." That had the most remarkable effect on that officer. He saw
at once that was banter aimed at him. He quieted down and behaved himself
like a little man through the rest of the fight.
We lay there and fired away until about eleven o'clock, when General Reno
saw a favorable opportunity to make an advance. With the right wing of the
21st a charge was made breaking the enemy's lines and capturing a
battery; our right wing was forced back somewhat but the Johnnies were not
able to recover their line entirely, nor get the guns of the battery away.
Our boys shot down the horses and we all advanced. Directly, the
Confederates saw their line was broken and they began to retreat all along
the line. During the fight I had visible evidence of three close calls. I
was lying with Brig. Barnes behind a little log that partly protected us,
firing away. First the bayonet of my gun was hit, then a ball passed
through my roll of blankets, and last the stock of my gun was shot away.
Those hits were each made an instant after I fired. I think a Johnnie saw
the smoke puff out from where I lay and fired at it.
When my gun-stock was shot away I had to go back and get another. Pat
Martin had been killed. I saw him lying on the ground with a bullet hole
through his forehead. I was given his gun and went back to my place again.
The bullet that went through my roll of blankets also made two holes
through my blouse on my shoulder underneath the blankets.
Captain Frazier of Company H did a clever piece of work at this time. He
was in the right wing, his company was one of those that made the charge
breaking the enemy's line and capturing the battery. When he was in the
most advanced position, he was hit and fell to the ground; a few minutes
later after the Johnnies had retaken the ground, he came to, the wound
being a scalp wound, the bullet not penetrating the skull only stunned him
for a moment. He was made prisoner and sent to the rear under guard. He
was soon all right. He took in the situation and determined to play
opossum. He feigned very sick, induced the guard to let him lie down in
the shade of some bushes a little way from the road. He then kept a sharp
watch out, saw the Confederates were retreating and at the proper moment
pulled out his revolver, got the drop on his guard, made them lay down
their guns and marched them back to the place where we were.
We moved on a quarter or a half a mile where we came to the Johnnies'
barracks. In front of the cook-house the tables were all set for breakfast
but apparently not a thing had been eaten. The poor devils had been
obliged to fall into line before they could eat their breakfasts and had
fought the battle on empty stomachs. That must have been the reason why
they lost.
As we got over the excitement and had a chance to look around we
discovered we were as black as a lot of niggers. Our powder was bad, the
air was thick and heavy, forcing the smoke down to the ground and as we
perspired it stuck to us; my gun had kicked so my shoulder was dreadfully
sore, and my head had been nearly snapped off every time I fired, toward
the last, and it ached enough to split open.
We occupied the Johnnies' camp for a few days and had no end of fun going
through their things and reading the love letters they had received from
the girls they had left behind them. The next day we buried our four boys
who were killed. They were Pat Martin, James Fessenden, Joseph E. Stone
and James Sullivan.
Of the four men killed in our company, I felt in only one a personal loss.
Jimmy Sullivan of Westboro, was an exceptional boy, two years my junior.
His was a light-hearted, joyous nature. He was the pet of the company and
without an enemy in it. How he was killed I never knew; from the advanced
position I occupied during the action it was impossible for me to know
what was going on in the company.
We remained in the rebs barracks three days, then went into camp in tents
on the south side of a large field stretching along the right bank of the
Trent River about a mile and a half from Newbern. That was not a bad place
and we enjoyed the time we stayed there very well. Up to that time we had
used the Sibley tent quite a little, a tent of the same form as the Indian
tepee and doubtless designed from it, but they have evidently been given
up, for from this time on we saw no more of them. The tents we were
supplied with there were the wall tent used by the officers, hospitals and
for commissary stores, and the small shelter tents for the men. The snakes
were rather thick and too neighborly to suit some tastes. It was not at
all uncommon to find one comfortably asleep in one's pocket or shoe as he
dressed in the morning, or sunning himself under the edge of the tent in
the afternoon, but they were not dangerous. I never heard of any one being
bitten by one of them.
A party of us boys built a trapeze and a vaulting bar, and started quite a
little interest in athletics and had a lot of good fun there.
We had been at Newbern but a few days when Miss Carrie Cutter, the
daughter of the surgeon died of spotted fever. She went south with us from
Annapolis to assist her father in the care of the sick and wounded men of
the regiment. She was a delicate girl of eighteen years and could not
withstand the exposure incident to army life. Her body was taken to
Roanoke Island and buried beside that of her friend, Charles Plummer
Tidd.
There was a good deal of sickness in the regiment at this time. The water
we drank was surface water: many of the boys had chills and fever and a
great deal of quinine and whiskey was taken. Some of the boys used to turn
out quite regularly and go up to the surgeon's tent for the quinine and
whiskey. Others of the fellows were unkind enough to intimate that they
really went up for the whiskey, which was, of course, unjust and wrong.
We had been here but a few weeks when a batch of recruits arrived at the
regiment, two of which were assigned to our company. One of them had a few
locks of rusty red hair hanging down over his shoulders, while his face
was partially covered with a faded yellowish red beard. He was at once
dubbed the Collie. The day after his arrival he was met by a friend of
Harding Witt. This friend suggested to the newcomer that he could not have
been informed of the regulations of the service or he would have been to
the barber-shop and that soldiers who did not have their hair cut and
their whiskers trimmed within forty-eight hours after joining the company
were liable to imprisonment for five days. Our friend with the yellow hair
innocently fell into the trap and begged his comrade to conduct him to the
company barber. This was precisely what was wanted, and the newcomer was
escorted to the tent occupied by Harding Witt and his friend, which had
been ordered to give the impression of a barber-shop. A large chair had
been placed in the center of the tent with a mirror in the front of it,
and near the chair was improvised a table on which was arranged a razor,
scissors, cologne water and perfumery. Harding impersonated the barber,
with coat off, a large white towel pinned in front of him like an apron.
He sat reading a novel as the two entered. On seeing them he sprang to his
feet and shouted "Next!" The recruit took the chair and Harding commenced
operations. He took out his watch and laid it on the table, explaining as
he did so, that the time was short but he would try and have him shaved
and his hair cut by parade time. He had trimmed the beard from one side of
his face and had cut the hair from one side of his head, when the drum
beat. The recruit was dismissed till after the parade when he was told to
return and the job would be finished.
When the Captain took command of the company his eyes fastened on the
recruit instantly, and he ordered him three paces to the front. As the man
lumbered forward, for he was as awkward in actions as he was rustic in
looks, the boys were ready to burst with laughter. Indeed some of them
did shout. The captain took in the situation, saw the poor fellow was the
butt of some one's joke, smiled and ordered him to his quarters. After
parade, Harding finished his job.
Later Tom Winn and I found a large cotton field a mile and a half or two
miles to the west of the camp, where the ground was just covered with
running blackberries. We noised it around the camp and directly a fourth
of the regiment could be seen out there picking blackberries. Dr Cutter
heard about the berries and believing them beneficial to the health of the
boys, recommended the giving of passes liberally, and extra large rations
of sugar were also served to eat with them and for a while we had all the
berries to eat we wanted.
April 17, we went on board the old "Northerner" again. We were told we
were going on a special expedition to the rear of Norfolk, Va. We moved
down the river along Pamlico Sound, past Roanoke Island up Albermarle
Sound to near Elizabeth City and landed on the opposite side of the sound
near Camden at just sunrise April 19. We started off into the country. At
eleven o'clock we had marched a distance of eighteen miles through the
dismal swamp, parts of the way over a corduroy road in a terrific heat. A
number of the boys were sunstruck. E. B. Richardson of our company
received a partial sunstroke. At eleven o'clock we struck the Johnnies at
a place near South Mills. Our errand was the destruction of the stone
locks of the Dismal Swamp Canal at that place. At four o'clock we had
accomplished our purpose, the Johnnies had been driven away and the locks
of the canal destroyed. From four to eight o'clock we rested, had coffee
and supper, then started back and arrived at the boat and went aboard at
sunrise the next morning.
Soon after we started on our return trip it began to rain and it rained in
torrents all the first part of the night. That return march was something
indescribable. The logs of the corduroy road became very slippery when wet
and if I fell flat once I did twenty times that night. That march of
thirty-six miles between sunrise and sunrise, fighting a battle,
destroying a canal, eighteen miles through a swamp in a terrific heat, and
the return eighteen miles in a dark, stormy night, part of the way over a
corduroy road, was a test of our powers of endurance we never exceeded
during the whole four years of our service.
We clambered aboard the boat, threw off our knapsacks and dropped, and I
do not think I moved during the whole day. At night the cook came around
and woke us up and we had a cup of coffee and something to eat. After that
I unrolled my blanket and lay down on it and went to sleep again and slept
straight on until the next morning. We arrived at Newbern early in the
forenoon and at mid-day of the 22d we were back in our camp again.
That was the time when the dread Merrimac was receiving her finishing
touches at the Gosport Navy Yard. The whole north quaked with fear of that
huge iron monster. Government officials at Washington were very much
disturbed about the mighty ironclad that so much was being written about
in the public press. They were concerned lest she should steal down Dismal
Swamp Canal from Norfolk to Elizabeth City, destroy our squadron in the
sound, then escape to the high seas through Hatteras Inlet, hence our
expedition, and destruction of the locks of the canal at South Mills.
Had the officials at Washington known then that the Merrimac drew 22 feet
of water, that source of anxiety would have been dispelled at once, for no
ship drawing such a depth of water could have manoeuvred in the shallow
water of Albermarle and Pamlico Sound, much less passed over the bar at
Hatteras Inlet where there is only eight feet of water at high tide.
I brought back from South Mills in my knapsack one thing I did not carry
up there, namely, a Johnnie's bullet. When we first reached the battle
ground, as our picket-line was feeling the Johnnies' position, the 21st
was moved up just in their rear as a support and ordered to lie down. In a
moment I was asleep, but directly something woke me. I had no idea what it
was that started me. We were then ordered forward, and I thought no more
of it until the next day on the boat, when I opened my knapsack I found a
ball, a hole in my knapsack and holes through a number of other things. It
had entered the side, passed about half way through and brought up against
a little hand dictionary. Then I knew what it was that awoke me as I lay
asleep just in the rear of our picket line.
A full blooded African, who was employed by Dr. Cutter about the hospital,
was one day asked by the doctor his name. "Nathaniel" replied the negro.
"Any other name?" said the doctor to which Sambo replied, "Why de last
name is always de massa's name, Massa Johnson." "What do the people down
here say this war is about?" asked the doctor. Nathaniel replied: "Why,
sir, dey say dat some man called Linkum is going to kill all de women and
de chilun an drive de massa away, and all de colored folks will be sold to
Cuba." Nathaniel then proceeded to give some new and highly interesting
particulars respecting the genealogy of the President of the United
States. "Dey say his wife is a black woman and dat his fadder and mudder
came from Ireland," said he, speaking with emphasis.
The doctor indignantly refuted the aspersions cast upon the family of the
President and disabused the negro of the false impressions which he had
received from his secessionist mistress.
On the night of May 16th, in the midst of a terrific thunder-storm, the
long roll was beaten and we fell into line in light marching order. The
night was as dark as a pocket but we formed line and dressed as readily as
at mid-day, the lightning was so bright and so continuous. As soon as the
line was formed we started off at a quick pace. After marching a few
miles, one of the officers told us that the 2d Maryland Regiment was
surrounded some miles back in the country, and we were going to their
relief. They had been on a scouting expedition and had been entrapped.
Soon after daylight having marched about fourteen miles, we met them on
their way back to Newbern. They had extricated themselves from the trap
they found themselves in, but they were well-nigh starved. Our cooks set
to work and got them a rattling good breakfast, for we had taken a wagon
load of provisions along. After the breakfast was disposed of we marched
back to Newbern and the 2d Maryland was ever after a good friend of the
21st.
At sunrise, July 6, 1862, we left our old camp on the bank of the River
Trent, went on board of a large schooner and started down the river. At
night we anchored near Hatteras Inlet. The next day, after being towed
over the bar and through the inlet we sailed for Fortress Monroe where we
arrived the middle of the afternoon of the 8th. The 9th we were taken to a
landing at Newport News and went ashore in plain sight of the masts of the
"Cumberland" and "Congress" as they stuck up out of about sixteen feet of
water.
It was just six months ago we started from this same place on the North
Carolina campaign. When we leave here this time we shall join Pope to take
part in his campaign in front of Washington.