THE RETURN.
Up to the last day's advance, our brigade had been one of the first in
line of march, but that last day the 45th was detailed as guard over
the baggage train. We were consequently prevented from participating in
or even witnessing the battle at the bridge where the railroad crosses
the Neuse, a short distance from the town of Goldsboro, which resulted
in the destruction of the bridge.
Our regiment was drawn up in line by the road-side, awaiting orders,
when General Foster and his staff came riding up from the scene of
action. The general himself announced the successful accomplishment of
the object of the expedition, which good news was received with loud
cheers, followed by a salute from the band.
At nightfall, on the return march, we had just reached the bivouac of
the previous night, when firing was once more heard in the direction
of Goldsboro, and presently an orderly dashed up with orders for us
to hurry back, as an attack in force had been made by the enemy on
our retiring column. This was anything but agreeable, as we were
anticipating a good supper and a quiet night; but war is inexorable,
and so we faced about and hurried off on the back-track. At the end
of four miles, the firing ceased, and soon word came that we were not
wanted, and might once more turn our faces homeward.
By this time it was quite dark, and the men very naturally felt cross
and tired, and did not execute some order of the colonel as promptly as
he thought right. Whereupon, he treated us on the spot to a drill in
the manual, full fifteen minutes long. Our way back to camp was lit up
by the blazing fences and pines which had caught from the fires made by
the troops along the road at the various halting places, and presented
a beautiful appearance, yet at the same time the scene was not wholly
free from danger, as the burning trees were falling in all directions.
The sky was red with the blaze, and it was a grand sight to watch the
fire creep slowly up the trunks of the old dead pines, towering high
above the other trees, and gradually envelope them in one sheet of
flame.
The next day we were fully initiated into the mysteries, as well as
duties, of baggage guard. Four men were detailed to a wagon, two on
each side, and off start the teams, most of them empty, at a rate of
about ten or twelve miles an hour. Running beside the wagon was rather
severe exercise, and sitting with the driver almost an impossibility,
strict orders being given by the wagon-master to allow no one to
ride. There was, therefore, nothing to be done but let them go their
own gait, or else climb up and cling to the inverted trough, used in
feeding the horses, which hangs at the back of most army wagons. The
wise ones chose this latter course, and by constant practice acquired
great expertness in getting on and off while at full speed. At length,
by judiciously walking up the hills, occasionally presenting ourselves
at the front of the wagon to show the driver we were on hand, and
assisting in watering the horses, we worked on his feelings to such an
extent that a seat by his side crowned our efforts. Our good fortune
was, however, but short-lived, for the wagon-master, on discovering
our comfortable position, most unceremoniously ejected us therefrom,
leaving us to finish the journey on foot, for which kind act he has our
grateful maledictions. Rations began to run very low about this time,
and the houses on the road were very thoroughly searched and stripped
of all things eatable.
Our column presented a most singular appearance on the return march,
for each one seemed to be his own commander, and all thoughts of
company or regiment were wholly thrown aside. A most motley appearance
we must have presented. Here comes one mounted on a nice horse, with a
halter for his bridle, a blanket for his saddle; another has found a
home-made cart, into which, by dint of rope and strap, he has fastened
some old Rosinante, a perfect match for the vehicle, and thus rides
in state in his own carriage. There is a mule, which in its obstinacy
causes the rider much more trouble, and consumes more time, than an
equal amount of walking; while a strange crowd on foot, their faces
black with the accumulation of nine days' dirt, armed with plunder
of every shape and kind, from a sauce-pan to a feather pillow, hurry
along, each one suiting his own convenience and acknowledging no other
leader.
It was a pretty hungry time for a day or two, and for one forty-eight
hours but four hard-tack to a man were issued by the quartermaster,
and those who were unsuccessful in their foraging went very hungry.
The officers fared no better than the men, as the following incident
certainly bespeaks a most sharp and craving appetite. After we had gone
into camp, on one of these nights of scarcity, a lieutenant in our
regiment was prowling supperless about the staff headquarters, and in
the course of his wanderings came upon a contraband making a supper off
the remains of the mess-table. Called away for a moment, he laid down
his dish, leaving on it a bone not thoroughly picked; but alas for the
poor darkey! when he returned, the bone was gone, and his feast was
over, while the lieutenant alone remained to tell the story.
Our expedition had its pleasures as well as its pains, and though
perhaps not as numerous, yet they were all the choicer for their
rarity. Passing through a strange country, where houses and people
differed from what we were accustomed to, every object was novel and
full of interest. Foraging was full of charm, not only because of
the excitement it afforded, but from its utter lawlessness. It was
something so entirely opposed to all civilized proceedings, to boldly
enter a house and demand and take something to eat, or deliberately
walk off with a goose or chicken, without so much as "by your leave" to
the owner.
Then this wild, out-of-door life; lying close to old Mother Earth,
with the blue canopy of heaven for our covering; the merry camp-fires,
surrounded after a day of toil by a circle of weary but contented
faces, busy preparing supper. The more enterprising ones, who had
been successful in their foraging, cooking their chicken or hoe-cake,
or perhaps a bit of bacon filched from some smoke-house, while the
unlucky or lazy ones have only to boil their coffee and make a meal off
of hard-tack, when they have any. Every little while a shout of dismay
is heard as some luckless wight stumbles over the end of the long rail
which stretches out into the darkness, but on whose fire-end are nicely
poised two or three cups of coffee, almost ready to drink, and their
unfortunate owner sees the precious contents spilled into the fire. It
was no small trial of temper, after going perhaps half a mile at the
end of a wearisome march to fill your canteen with water, to lose both
water and coffee by the awkwardness of some stupid fellow. The only
equally provoking accident is, to have your blanket-straps give way
while wading a mud-puddle, and see the blankets fall into the mud.
The fine weather, with which we were favored, was another pleasant
feature of the expedition. The nights were cold, to be sure, but the
air was clear and bracing, and we were spared all the discomforts of a
stormy campaign. We learnt more of the true character of our comrades
also, for nothing brings out the real worth of a man more than such
an experience. Some, who had been very stout and bold-hearted in the
anticipation, sank utterly under the reality; while others, from whom
little had been expected, now appeared as lively and active as if on
a pleasure excursion, and occasionally you would see a noble-hearted
fellow carrying two guns, or an extra set of blankets, but for whose
kindly assistance some poor fellow would have given up in utter despair.
One of the saddest sights of the march was the great number of
stragglers. We read in the newspapers of so many stragglers picked
off by guerillas, or captured and missing, and one naturally supposes
that these unlucky ones have wilfully strayed from the command, and
suffered the penalty for their carelessness and disobedience. But what
is the reality? As the column goes hurrying by, you catch a glimpse
of a pale face lying by the road-side, faint and weary; a few steps
farther on, one with his shoes off, bathing his blistered feet; here
is a poor fellow whose summer has been spent in hospital, sick of a
fever, and whose little stock of strength is soon exhausted; these
are the stragglers who reach the camp long after the others have made
themselves comfortable for the night, and, after a restless night, they
start off the next morning with a like prospect before them, until
human endurance can hold out no longer.
On the tenth night we found ourselves but eight miles from Newbern,
and the next morning we started for the barracks with happy, thankful
hearts. About noon of the eleventh day, after a march of more than
one hundred and fifty miles, a motley crew, some with faces which had
known no water during our absence, and all unshaven, tattered and
torn, we once more set foot in Camp Amory on the Trent. After the
luxury of a bath and change of clothes, we had a great treat in the
budget of letters and pile of boxes which had been awaiting our return,
suggestive of numberless feasts, to make up for the scanty fare on the
march. Such was our first experience of the stern realities of war. Out
of the eight companies who went on the expedition, seventeen men were
killed and sixty wounded,--one in every ten of the command.
We soon fell into the old routine of camp life, the regimental library
furnishing a supply of reading for the evening hours, and when reading
and writing failed, whist was always on hand, a never-failing resource.
Not long after our return to camp, the regiment, in common with many
others which were quartered in barracks, was visited by a deadly
malaria, which carried off several brave fellows who had escaped the
dangers of the march only to fall victims to disease. As one after
another was stricken down, and in a few short hours lay cold and
still in death, a shadow fell upon us all, for none could tell whose
turn would come next. We entered the service with the dangers of the
battle-field distinctly before us, but this was a foe against which
mortal might was powerless. There is a glory in a death in battle,
but equal honor and equal praise is due to him who suffers for his
country's good in a different way, and at her call gives up his life on
the sick-bed, with a heroism equal to those who shed their lifeblood in
the fight. All honor and praise be to both.
Being exempted from drill the day after guard duty, we used to make
little excursions about the country; through the woods on the opposite
side of the river, hunting after brier-root to make pipes, and also to
collect logs for the barrack fire; to the old brick house, once the
mansion-house of the plantation upon which our camps were situated, now
torn down, and the bricks converted into chimneys and ovens for the
barracks, while the surrounding grove has fallen before the axes of
the pioneer. Still farther off, stood the blockhouse on Brice's Creek,
the outpost in this direction, a favorite resort, while near by was a
signal-tower, from which a fine view of Newbern and the vicinity could
be obtained.
Christmas came, marked by an absence of drill, and an extra dinner,
followed by the New Year's day, so memorable on account of the
Emancipation Proclamation that day given to the world. But a very
important event, and one long looked for, occurred early in January,
which sent a thrill of joy throughout the department,--that was the
arrival of the paymaster and our first pay-day. He had been coming
every day for many weeks; and some regiments had not been paid for more
than six months, and their families were suffering for want of this
dearly-earned money. But come he did, and a happy set of faces filled
the long line as it filed by his table, receiving the first earning in
Uncle Sam's service. But transcendent in his joy was the sutler, who,
seated by the paymaster, eyed the crisp bank-notes, and speculated how
soon they would find their way into his rapacious maw.
[Illustration: HARDTACK AND COFFEE.]
[Illustration: BLOCK HOUSE.]
[Illustration: RESERVE PICKET STATION.]