PLAYING SOLDIER IN KENTUCKY
Our breakfast at Baltimore. The trip west. The Reception at Mt. Sterling.
Moved into the town.
The early spring of 1863, found us at Newport News awaiting orders.
Finally, on March 18th, orders came and on the 19th, the 1st Division went
on board transports.
March 26. We went on board the steamer "Kennebeck" during the forenoon,
and in the afternoon started for Baltimore. In the early morning of the
27th we steamed into the harbor of that city. The 2d Maryland was in the
1st Division and it was a Baltimore regiment. It had passed through the
city just ahead of us and had arranged with its friends there, to be on
the lookout for the 21st when we came along and see that we had a good
breakfast. Well, there was nothing for sale at any of the restaurants near
the wharf to members of the 21st, but we were all treated to as good a
breakfast as any fellow could wish for. The editor of the Baltimore
American, whom we had become acquainted with when doing picket duty on the
railroad near Annapolis Junction, in the autumn of 1861, was there to
welcome us. After breakfast we fell in line, marched up to the office of
the Baltimore American and the band played all the national airs. Every
one made a speech. We gave three cheers and a tiger a number of times and
then we marched back to the wharf again. This reception was arranged for
by the 2d Maryland, in memory of the Pollocksville breakfast we gave them
May 17th, 1862, down in North Carolina. We did not leave Baltimore until
the next morning (the 28th), when just at dawn we steamed away and on
through Harrisburg, Pa., and Altoona, where we were given a fine supper at
midnight.
At Pittsburgh, on the 29th, we were marched to a public hall and given a
fine reception; left in the morning for Cincinnati. On the way, at
Coshocton, Ohio, we were received with great cordiality by the people,
were given a fine breakfast and the tables were waited on by as handsome a
lot of young ladies as can be seen anywhere. We reached Columbus, Ohio,
early in the afternoon of the 30th. We were cordially received there and
furnished coffee and sandwiches. After this was all over and the people
who had furnished the lunch had gone home, the train remaining in the
railroad station, some of the boys wandered up into the town to see the
capitol buildings and anything else of interest. A little way up a guard
was encountered, refusing the boys admission to the town. After some
bantering the guard opened fire on the boys, killing two and wounding a
number of others. This so enraged the boys that there was a general rush
for their guns, and had not the officers been on hand at the time there
would have been a lot of blood spilled. The boys were got on to the train
and we left the town as soon as possible.
The guard that opened fire on our boys was a detail from a new regiment of
Ohio soldiers. How a lot of new soldiers doing ordinary guard duty in a
city like that were given loaded muskets was impossible to understand. We
reached Cincinnati at two o'clock the next morning, March 31st. We marched
to the Market House where we received a good breakfast and cordial
greeting from the people. While there, we learned that we were assigned to
the "Army of the Ohio" and that General Burnside had been put in command
of the "Department of the Ohio." In the middle of the day we crossed the
river and took train for Paris, Ky., arriving there in the early morning
of April 1st. We went into camp and remained there three days.
April 3d. We marched to Mt. Sterling, a distance of twenty-two miles.
Here, we were to do frontier duty, assisting in protecting the people of
Kentucky from raids by Confederate cavalry and guerrillas which had become
very common. The march to Mt. Sterling was through the blue grass region
and over a fine turnpike--the first fine road we had seen since leaving
New England. Mt. Sterling is the county town of Montgomery County and has
about 3000 inhabitants. But as we marched through the town we saw not one
of the 3000. The streets were deserted, the blinds on the windows were
closed and the doors barred. We marched on through the village out on one
of the main roads and went into camp. A strong guard was put around the
camp and no one was allowed to go in town.
During the evening the day after we reached Mt. Sterling, the cavalry
pickets were driven in by a guerrilla band, but they got no farther than
our picket post. There they came to a very sudden stop. The next day we
changed camp, going to a large pasture on high ground finely drained and
with a grove of beautiful trees in it, about a mile from town.
The reason for the cold reception we received from the people of Mt.
Sterling on our arrival there, was because we were from the black
abolition state of Massachusetts. They preferred, we were told, to remain
unguarded rather than be guarded by Massachusetts men. However, it was our
fortune to see a most remarkable change in the sentiment of the people
toward us in a very short time. Colonel Clark, the commander of the
regiment, was an Amherst professor, a man of intellect and culture, and a
man of an exceptionally fine presence. He was a fine example of New
England culture and must have made a superior impression on the leading
men of the town and county. As soon as we reached there a strong guard was
put on the court house, the jail and every other public building and piece
of public property that required guarding. Not a soldier was allowed in
the village excepting the guards on duty; no one was allowed to touch
anything he did not buy and pay for in the regular way. Raiding the town
by guerrillas was stopped, perfect order was maintained. And as a result
on the 17th we were invited, by the civil authorities, to move down into
the village and camp in the beautiful grounds in front of the court house;
and there we remained until early in July.
This period of three months was the most delightful period we had during
the war. It was a veritable campaign of peace. Confidence returned to the
people of Mt. Sterling, the court held its regular sessions, a thing that
had not been done since the war broke out. We were paid off; money was
spent freely and Mt. Sterling put on her holiday attire. After we moved
down into the court house grounds there was no guard kept around the camp,
the boys were allowed to go and come as they pleased so long as they
behaved themselves and were present at roll-call. In a short time they
became acquainted with the people of the village and in the country
around. They used to wander off into the country for miles, call at the
farmers' houses, and buy things to eat. In this way they became acquainted
in families, and those acquaintances in many instances ripened into
friendships. A Company E man and I went off into the country one day some
three or four miles. We came to a medium-sized, pleasantly situated house,
with a lot of hens in the yard. We thought this our opportunity to get
some eggs, which was our errand, and walked up to the door and knocked. We
were invited in. As we were buying our eggs two young ladies appeared. We
did not feel like rushing away then, although the girls were a little
slighting in their answers to questions and in speaking of the
Confederates referred to them as "our men." In the course of the
conversation it was disclosed that they had relations in the Confederate
army. However, the girls were young and attractive and we did not hurry.
There was a piano in the room and my friend suggested that one of them
favor us with a selection. The younger one, a girl about twenty, sat down
and played "Dixie" and "My Maryland." As she finished she swung around on
her chair and glanced at each of us in a way that said, what do you think
of that. We complimented her and asked her to play the "Star Spangled
Banner," and "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean" which she did as a favor. My
friend then asked her to play the Marsellaise. She did not recognize it.
Would he hum it?--she might remember it. He hummed it, but it was evident
she did not know it. Finally, she said in a rather saucy way, "Why don't
you play it yourself?" He said he would if it was agreeable. A plainly
dressed private soldier sat down to the piano but from that moment the
instrument seemed inspired. He played the "Marsellaise," "The Watch on the
Rhine;" then he played a number of selections of dance music from Strauss
and other things. If he stopped they would say, "Oh don't stop, play
something else." For nearly an hour he played ahead--those people and I as
well were charmed; it was interesting to see those girls glance at each
other and at their mother at times when the music was especially
interesting. When finally he did stop, the saucy distant airs of the girls
were gone, they had become our friends. We were then less disposed than
before to leave, and when we did go it was with the understanding that we
would come again and in future buy all our hens' eggs from them.
We did no drilling while there. Our principal duties were picketing the
roads leading into the town from the south, east and west, keeping the
brass plates on our accoutrements and our shoes, well polished. Reports of
guerrillas being in adjoining towns reached us from time to time, but as
those men never really wanted to fight, but only to steal, they never
approached very near Mt. Sterling.
In talking with one of the Union men of the village one day about the
people who were in sympathy with the South he said, "Zeek Jones over there
was until lately one of the biggest Rebels in the blue grass region; he
preached it and he sung it until the Rebel cavalry came along and bought
out all his horned cattle, horses, potatoes and general truck and paid him
in Confederate money; then he sung a new tune--he's been cursing them ever
since. He sits up nights to swear about them. Nothing like that to bring a
man around, stranger," and the old man haw-hawed right heartily.
About a mile from the village on one of the roads leading from it, a
picket post had pitched its tent near what appeared to be some deserted
buildings. At night there issued from the house the most delightful music.
The unknown singer had a contralto voice, with all the richness of tone of
the most highly trained prima donna. For three successive evenings there
poured forth from the house a concert the like of which those soldiers had
never heard. On the third night one of the boys could endure it no longer,
his curiosity had got the best of him. He approached the building, climbed
over the garden wall, passed around the house, and, lo, there was an open
window. He stole up to it and peeped in. The room was full of music. For a
moment he was lost in the splendor of the tones, when lo, upon the kitchen
table sat a colored girl singing as if her heart would burst. As she sang
she scoured her dishes. She saw him! He dropped and slunk away. "Go way
dar you soger man, or I'll let fly de frying pan at you head. You mustn't
stan dar peeking at dis yer chile." The romantic vision was dispelled. The
soldier stole back to his companions, but that entrancing music was never
heard to issue from that house again.
Once we marched to Paris and once to Sharpsburg to attack guerrillas, but
in each instance when we reached the place the guerrillas had disappeared.
Twice we were ordered away, but each time the people sent to headquarters
extensively signed petitions praying that we might remain there a little
longer. And stay we did until the corps was nearly ready to march into
Tennessee, and the capture of the hearts of two Kentucky belles of the
blue grass region, by men of the 21st were among the results of our
campaign in Kentucky.
July 6. With sincere regret we said goodbye to our many friends at Mt.
Sterling and marched to Lexington. The farmers of the vicinity showed the
sincerity of their regard for us by turning out with their teams and
carrying our knapsacks the whole thirty-three miles. It was a sweltering
hot day, and in our untrained condition it was all we could stand. As we
reached Lexington we found the streets filled with farmers and their
stock, they having come to town to escape from a guerrilla band that was
reported to be in the vicinity. But we were there in time and the
guerrillas did not attempt to enter the town. We went into camp in a large
field near Fort Clay. The 16th we changed camp, going to a beautiful grove
near the Lexington cemetery. Here we remained until we started for
Tennessee.