CAMP AMORY ON THE TRENT.
Returning to the freight house where the night had been spent, we
shouldered our guns and knapsacks and started en route for our new
home. Passing through the town, and recrossing the railroad bridge, we
left the line of the railroad and took the road running along the edge
of the Trent. After toiling through the sand for about a mile, we came
upon a negro settlement and a long row of stables, once rebel cavalry
quarters, now used for government team horses and as a sort of wagon
station. An old canal boat, mounting two heavy guns, commands the spot
as well as the surrounding country, which has been cleared of trees on
both sides of the river to give free range to the artillery.
Shortly after leaving this dirty village, the barracks assigned us
came in view, about half a mile up the river, a most welcome sight,
for the day was hot, the road very sandy and our load heavy. The 17th
Mass. were encamped in tents near by, and as our regiment approached,
they turned out to meet us and give us welcome. Poor fellows! they
looked forlorn enough, thin and pale, almost all of them having had the
chills or some fever through the summer, from which they were just
recovering, a great part of the regiment being still in hospital.
On reaching our destination, knapsacks were quickly unslung, and we
hastened to inspect our new quarters. The barracks--unlike those at
Readville--consisted of two long buildings, each arranged for five
companies. They were at right angles with the river, and parallel to
each other, some three hundred feet apart. The hospital tents were
located midway between the buildings, but after a time the hospital
was transferred to the barracks, rendered vacant by the detail of two
of the companies. The officers occupied tents, which were pitched
away from and opposite the river, facing and forming one side of a
quadrangle, enclosed by the river, the barracks and the tents. Beyond
the officers' quarters was the parade-ground, while the drill-ground
lay in every direction.
Directly in the rear of the north barrack, ran the main road from
Newbern south to Beaufort, crossing the Trent at this point, on what
is called the County bridge. The bridge was commanded at that time by
a little earthwork, called Fort Gaston, which mounted two guns, to all
appearance more dangerous to those in their rear than in their front;
this celebrated fort was for a long time garrisoned by one man detailed
regularly from the camp guard.
An immense plain stretched out in front of us, some two or three miles
in length, and a mile in width, bounded in our rear by the river, and
skirted on all sides by fine forests. For the last two or three years,
these have been gradually disappearing before the axe of the pioneer,
thus leaving the approach to the city from this direction wholly under
command of gun-boats on either of the rivers.
On the edge of the woods, on the opposite side of the plain, gleamed
the white tents of the 23d Mass., just relieved from provost duty. The
43d went into camp a short distance beyond us, and not many weeks after
our own arrival, the 51st Mass. were quartered in the barracks next
beyond ours.
The camp took its name from Colonel Amory of the 17th Mass., who had
command of our brigade, composed at first of the 17th, 23d, 43d, and
45th Mass. Later, the 51st Mass. took the place of the 23d, when the
latter regiment was ordered into another department.
The first day or two was spent in establishing ourselves comfortably
in our new quarters, writing letters, undergoing an inspection by our
corps commander, Gen. Foster, and strolling about the adjacent country,
seeing the sights and making friends with our neighbors, black as
well as white. The camp swarmed with contrabands of all ages and both
sexes, some with eatables to sell, apples, pies, cakes, biscuit and
sweet potatoes, others wanting to take in washing. The boys wished to
hire out as servants, and at such cheap rates that we all immediately
had one attached to us, as a sort of body-guard, to run errands, draw
water, wash dishes, and live on our leavings.
The negro huts in the vicinity of the camp were often visited by the
curious, and the mode of life in them afforded us much pleasure, as it
was at the same time novel and amusing. "Ole Aunt Gatsy" was quite a
favorite with a select few who had discovered her various excellencies,
and we were indebted to her cuisine for many a nice meal. Her method
of cooking seemed very strange to eyes accustomed to ranges and stoves,
and is worthy of mention. All the cooking is done at an open wood fire,
the chimney always standing outside the house. The principal implement
of cookery is an iron pot with short legs and a flat iron cover,
somewhat larger than the mouth of the pot. After raking out a nice bed
of coals, the food, no matter whether a bake, roast or boil, is placed
in the pot over the coals, and the cover is kept constantly sprinkled
with fresh coals until the contents are cooked. They also use the
ordinary stew-pan, and earthen ovens in which they build huge fires,
and, after the earth is thoroughly heated, put in the meat or whatever
it may be, close both door and chimney, and in due time produce a
joint of beef, or a dish of baked beans fit for the most epicurean New
Englander.
We soon settled down into a quiet, monotonous life of drill and guard
duty, more wearisome than arduous. The broad expanse of plain which
stretched out before our camp was large enough for an army to manoeuvre
upon, and the officers certainly made the most of their opportunity,
for company, battalion and brigade drills followed one another so
closely that one had scarcely time to think in the intervening moments.
A very semi-occasional visit to town served as a pleasant little
episode, by giving us a glimpse of an approach at least to a civilized
existence, thereby preventing us from wholly lapsing into barbarism.
Nor were our Sundays by any means days of rest; for as regularly as the
day itself, the weekly inspection of both quarters and men came round.
The amount of cleaning done every Sunday was something awful. Guns
had to be taken apart and made to look better than when they left the
armory, brasses to be polished, shoes and equipments blacked, and bunks
and barracks put in perfect order. This was varied occasionally by a
knapsack inspection, which consisted in standing in the hot sun for an
hour or two, our knapsacks on our backs, apparently filled with all our
worldly goods; but appearances are sometimes deceitful, and so were our
knapsacks, but if they only looked full, we were perfectly content.
In the afternoon we formed a hollow square and had a regular New
England service, with a clear, practical sermon from the chaplain,
finishing the exercises with the Doxology, in which both band and
regiment were wont to join. The day closed with the usual dress-parade
and a prayer meeting in the evening conducted by the chaplain.
Thanksgiving Day being close at hand, most of us began to busy
ourselves making preparations for a proper observance of the day.
Mysterious trips to town, frequent visits to Aunt Gatsy's, and a great
scarcity of ready money were the most observable features. Thanksgiving
eve arrived at last, clear and cold, and after the labors for the day
were ended, we built a famous large fire in our barracks, and long
after taps remained grouped about it, talking of home and former times
in old Massachusetts when this anniversary came round. One by one
the men dropped off to bed, until but four of us remained, when one
of our number proposed whist by fire-light. The cards were quickly
produced, and an impromptu lunch of crackers and cheese, apples and
lemonade, contributed from our private stores, and there we played
till the waning light of the fire warned us that our supply of wood was
exhausted, whereupon we crept noiselessly to our bunks, not daring to
think how soon the inexorable reveille would break in upon our slumbers.
After a sermon in the morning from the chaplain, in accordance with the
good old custom of New England, the day was given as a holiday, and
thanks to Old Aunty, our little party of six sat down to a repast which
would not have disgraced any board in the land, and all agreed that we
had rarely enjoyed a dinner more.
About this time, Colonel Codman received orders to detail two companies
for special service, and for several days quite an excitement prevailed
as to which they were to be. The question was settled by the departure,
on the first of December, of Company C, for Morehead City, and on
the next day, of Company G, under command of Lieutenant Thayer, for
Fort Macon. Several of the officers and many of the men were also
detached from the regiment about this same time. Captain Murdock, of
Company G, went on to Colonel Amory's staff, as aide, and Lieutenant
Dewson as Brigade Quarter-Master, his place being filled by Lieutenant
Emmons, of Company E. Lieutenants Richardson, of Company A, and
Blagden, of Company I, went into the Signal Corps, and never rejoined
their command. The men were variously distributed, some on signal
service, many as clerks at the various headquarters, assistants in the
hospitals, teamsters, etc., thus materially weakening the regiment in
point of numbers by these heavy details.
The first time the men went out on picket they made preparations enough
for an expedition, and bade good-bye as if at the very least they were
sure for Richmond, instead of simply bivouacing for a night across the
Trent. The truth is, that so far from resembling that on the Potomac,
picketing was with us rather a pleasant diversion than otherwise. There
were six stations, all on the other side the Trent; the outermost
station directly on the river, the others at intervals along the road.
Each station was under command of a corporal; and the guard, equipped
with blankets and rations, went out one morning and were relieved the
next. Intended as a safeguard, and rather for practice than from any
real expectation of an approach of the enemy in that direction, we had
nevertheless, one night, an example of the practical working and great
advantage of the picket guard. One of the outermost station fired upon
what in the darkness he took to be a body of rebels, and the alarm was
immediately communicated to the camp guard. The drummers beat the long
roll, and in a very short time the whole camp was aroused, the regiment
in line, and in readiness for the enemy whenever he saw fit to come. It
was well for us, however, that we did not wait till he did come, but
after standing shivering in the cold night air for about an hour, went
back to the barracks, otherwise we might have stood there to this day.
The road to Newbern was considerably altered in appearance by the
arrival of General Wessel's division of New York and Pennsylvania
troops from Suffolk, Va., which encamped about half a mile from us;
and as every day brought news of fresh arrivals, it was very evident
that some movement was on foot in our department. Rumor was very busy
about these times, and the camp was full of reports and stories.
Charleston, Wilmington, and even Richmond itself were named as our
destination. Nothing was thought, talked, or dreamt of, but the
probable expedition, and if it had ended in talk, our loss under the
influence of undue excitement would have been very heavy. But about the
eighth of December, our feelings were somewhat relieved by the reading
of marching orders to the regiment, three days being given to prepare
for the march.
The note of preparation sounded through the camp, and all was bustle
and confusion. Knapsacks were filled to overflowing with all our
worldly possessions, and stowed in a schooner which came up the river
to receive them, so that in case of an attack or fire in our absence,
they at least might be secure, and indeed such good care did those on
board take, that they have kept some of our things to this day.
It fell to my lot to be detailed on picket the last day, and so
entrusting my property to the tender mercies of my chum, the guard
started for the other side of the river, wholly ignorant as to whether
they were to be left behind or not. However, having three old whalers
from Nantucket as companions in misery, the day passed away very
quickly, listening to their tales of sea life, its pleasures and
dangers, but above all, its superiority to the life of a soldier. But
my special wonder and admiration was excited by witnessing the relish
with which they devoured the salt junk at their dinner, actually
preferring it to fresh beef, to me a most unaccountable taste.
The night was bright and clear, and the moonlight glimmering through
the tops of the old pine trees, lit up the scene just around us, but
deepened the blackness of the shadows which hid themselves in the
surrounding forest. As we sat round the smouldering embers of the
deadened fire, wondering as to our probable fortune, whether the morrow
would behold us on the march with the regiment, or ignominiously left
behind to guard the camp, our doubts and fears were set at rest by the
arrival of the lieutenant of the guard. He informed us that at ten
o'clock the pickets were to be taken in, and at that hour we were to
proceed to the barracks as quietly as possible. The hour came at last,
and rolling up our blankets and shouldering our guns, before long we
were once more in camp.
During our absence all our goods had been removed, rations distributed,
and ammunition given out; while in anticipation of the hard work before
them, all were sleeping quietly in their bunks, some poor fellows for
the last time. Making all our preparations for the morrow as speedily
as possible, we crawled upon the boards, and soon forgot our trials in
the land of dreams.
[Illustration: HELIOTYPE PRINTING CO. BOSTON.
BATTLE OF KINSTON.]