BATTLES OF BALL’S BLUFF AND EDWARD’S FERRY.—EXPERIENCES AT DARNESTOWN
AND ROCKVILLE.
In a few weeks we broke camp and took up our line of march to the
front. Our destination was the Potomac, near Poolsville. It was our
first march and to us “tender feets” a hard one. The older men of
the company laughed at us boys, said we would never be able to march
that distance, but before night we left those who had laughed by the
roadside. (I think our experience, that the boys fresh from school or
from indoor life were able to endure more than men of mature years, was
general.) Just before we arrived at Rockville, Md., we received ten
rounds of ball cartridges and the command was given, “Load at will!
Load!” I shall never forget the sensation I experienced as my ramrod
forced home the first ball. We were told that at Rockville a strong
secession sentiment existed, and I expected to kill a rebel or be a
dead Yankee before night. We marched through the town and found it
as quiet as a New England village. The second night of our march we
arrived at Poolsville. Here we met the 15th Massachusetts, and Company
A of the 19th was entertained by Company A of the 15th. Next morning we
marched to Camp Benton, which was to be our home for several months.
We were brigaded with the 20th Massachusetts, 7th Michigan, 42d New
York (Tammany regiment), Captain Saunders’s company of sharpshooters
and Captain Vaughn’s Rhode Island battery. Our brigade was commanded by
Gen. F. W. Lander; the headquarters of the division were at Poolsville,
called “corps of observation,” commanded by Gen. Chas. P. Stone. At
Camp Benton the discipline was brought to the regular army standard;
drills were almost constant; each afternoon we were drilled in
battalion movements, in heavy marching order, and in every possible way
fitted for active service. Dress coats with brass shoulder scales and
leather neck stocks were issued, and when not in line or on guard our
spare moments were spent in cleaning brasses. If any men ever earned
thirteen dollars a month we did. Besides the camp guard we mounted what
was called grand guard, consisting of a detail from each regiment in
the brigade posted on the outskirts of the camp, the tour of duty being
twenty-four hours. Often the long roll would beat after we had retired
for the night; we would turn out and double quick to Edward’s Ferry,
march up the tow path of the canal, lay on our arms the rest of the
night, and the next morning march back to camp. At first we expected
the rebels were crossing the river, but as we saw no movement in that
direction we looked upon these excursions as a part of the drill,
the days not being long enough to give us the desired instructions.
The enlisted men were not the only ones who had to work, as the line
officers came in for their share. Well do I remember day after day
marching to execute the movement “To the rear by the right flank pass
the defile.” At last Colonel Hincks became discouraged, and throwing
down his sword said, “Let every officer go to his tent, take his
tactics and study them, and to-morrow if any one fails to understand
this movement there will be a vacancy in this regiment.” We came out
next day and in fair shape executed the movement.
Many incidents occurred at Camp Benton that are pleasant to recall. We
were in a country where there were many slaves, all anxious to serve
our officers, and nearly every day some citizen would come into camp
hunting for his runaway negro. One day a man came to the colonel and
was sure one of his negroes was in our camp. Colonel Hincks sent for
Sergeant McGinnis of Company K and ordered him to assist in the search.
By the look the colonel gave McGinnis it was understood that the slave
was not to be found. McGinnis went into the woods with the man. As soon
as they were out of sight he halted and cut a switch. “Look here!”
said McGinnis, “do you suppose we left Massachusetts and came out here
to hunt negroes?” and to add force to his argument he touched the old
fellow up with the switch. The man was indignant and said he would
report McGinnis to the colonel. “Go ahead and I will go with you.” Both
went to the colonel, and the citizen told his story with tears in his
eyes. Colonel Hincks turned to McGinnis and said, “Sergeant McGinnis,
is this true?” “Colonel, do you think I would _be seen_ doing such a
thing?” was the reply. “No,” said the colonel; “Sergeant McGinnis is a
man of truth and I must take his word. You have deceived me, sir; leave
this camp and never enter it again.” The man, fearing McGinnis might
get another chance at him, left as quickly as possible.
Here is another instance of the ready wit of a soldier. We had in
Company A an Irishman, who was one day detailed for headquarters guard.
The night was dark and rainy and the morning found Mike, pacing his
beat in front of the colonel’s tent, wet to his skin. Colonel Hincks
came out and Mike said, “Colonel, will you allow me to speak a word
with you?” “What is it?” said the colonel. “Well, colonel, I wish you
believed as you did before the war. Then you believed in putting none
but Americans on guard and here I am, an Irishman, wet to the skin,
having been on guard all night.” The colonel laughed and retired.
(Colonel Hincks had edited a Know-Nothing paper whose motto was, “Put
none but Americans on guard.”)
Early in October we were ordered to the river and picketed it from
Edward’s Ferry to a point above Harrison’s Island. By visits of general
and field officers we could see that a movement against the enemy was
intended. On the 20th, ten of the best shots of the regiment were
selected for some important service. With our officers they crossed to
Harrison’s Island to reconnoitre. Early the next morning the regiments
began to arrive. Two small scows were brought to a point opposite the
island and Company A was detailed to ferry the troops across. At first
we pushed the boats over with long poles, but the current being very
strong they drifted down the river and it was hard to land. After
one or two trips a rope was obtained from a passing canal boat and
stretched across the river, making transportation much easier.
In a short time we heard musketry on the other side and knew that the
battle had begun. The 19th regiment was the last to cross. As we landed
on the island the sound of the minie balls greeted us for the first
time. We met four men bearing a stretcher, on which was the lifeless
form of Colonel Baker of the 1st California. He was the first man we
had seen killed in battle. We were marched across the island, meeting
wounded and half-naked men who swam the river. On arriving at the other
side we found there was work for us to do. The only transportation from
the island to the Virginia shore was one scow. By this a load could
be sent over, then marched up a steep bank called Ball’s Bluff. The
rebels, being strongly intrenched at the top, could kill or capture our
men before another load could land. At last a retreat was ordered as
our men were stampeded. They rushed down the hill and into the boat.
The little craft being overloaded was soon swamped, men were swimming
the river to escape, and many a poor fellow, not able to swim, went
down before our eyes; others were shot by the rebels when almost within
our lines. At night those not required at the landing were deployed
to the right and left. A drenching rain set in and without overcoats
or blankets we remained shivering until morning. Lieutenant Dodge and
twelve men, under a flag of truce, were sent over to bury the dead.
Alex. Short was the volunteer from Company A, and he received injuries
from which he never fully recovered. While the flag of truce was out
a rebel horseman was seen pursuing a Union soldier who was running to
the river. A man in Company H on the island fired and the horseman
fell. Immediately the rebels closed in on the burial party and held
them as prisoners. It required all the energy and courage that Colonel
Hincks possessed to have them released. The next day we picketed the
island, cared for the men we had rescued, and on the morning of the 23d
recrossed to the Maryland side, wet, cold and disheartened. A few shots
from our batteries told that Ball’s Bluff battle was over.
For the number of men engaged this was the most disastrous battle
of the war. No man in his right mind would have sent out such
an expedition. There was no way to retreat and no chance to send
reinforcements, except a scow load at a time. The movement was
condemned by every one. It was said that General Stone was a traitor,
that signal lights would be placed at a house on the Virginia side and
that he would go down to the river and meet men from the rebel army.
The truth we never knew, but General Stone was relieved, and it was
late in the war before he was given another command.
While we were engaged at the bluff Company K crossed at Edward’s Ferry
with General Lander. They had a sharp skirmish with the rebels and our
brave brigade commander received the wound which resulted in his death
soon after. We returned to our old camp and were soon busy getting
ready for winter.
About this time we were called upon to bear our first loss, not by
death but by the resignation of Captain Stanwood. Lieutenant Merritt
was promoted to the vacant position, Second Lieutenant Boyd to first
lieutenant and Quartermaster Sergeant O. F. Briggs to second lieutenant.
We were about to undergo our first winter in camp and had not learned
to stockade our tents; we pinned them close to the ground, dug a flue
for a fireplace, building a chimney outside topped with a barrel, and
had plenty of smoke but little fire. Neither had we yet learned the
art of sleeping in tents; we would put on all our clothes, including
overcoats, bring the capes up over our heads, lie down and shiver.
Experience soon taught as that to undress and throw our clothing over
us was much the better way.
On Thanksgiving the officers of the regiment gave a ball; men were
detailed to build a ball-room, and quite a nice building was the
result of their labors. Ladies came from Washington and Baltimore and
a good time was enjoyed. We enlisted men looked on from a distance and
thought of the pleasures we had surrendered for a chance to serve our
country.
After getting snugly fixed for winter an order came to move, and soon
we were on the march for Muddy Branch, to take the place of General
Banks’s division, which had been ordered to Harper’s Ferry. Here the
regiment was assigned various duties. A part of Company A was sent
to Rockville. First Sergeant Cook, myself as corporal, and ten men
were ordered to Darnestown. Our quarters at Darnestown were in an old
barn on the main street, and at Rockville in buildings on the fair
ground. Our duty at Darnestown was to prevent men coming to town from
camp and to allow none to pass towards Washington, below the rank of
a brigadier-general, without proper papers. We had three posts, each
at a store. The citizens of the town were in sympathy with the South,
but as we behaved like gentlemen they were very kind, often sending us
biscuits for breakfast and at Christmas furnishing a liberal supply of
egg-nog. We were welcomed at any house, and often when off duty spent
a pleasant hour by their firesides. Soon after we began duty Sergeant
Cook received a furlough of thirty days and I was commander-in-chief of
the Darnestown army.
I had no trouble with the enlisted men, but the officers “kicked” when
I asked them to show their leave of absence. My duty was to inspect the
coach when it arrived on its way to Washington, and if any officer or
soldier was on board to ask him to show his pass. I will relate one
instance. I opened the coach door one morning and said, “I will see
your leave of absence, if you please,” to an officer who wore the strap
of a major. He growled out, “Call your officer; I don’t show my leave
of absence to any enlisted man.” I replied, “I am the only officer
here; I have my orders in writing from headquarters and know my duty.”
He put his head out of the coach window and said, “Driver, go on.” I
called to the sentry on duty, “If that driver starts, shoot him off the
box.” The driver did not start, and after swearing awhile the major
gave in, but declared he would report me,—and he did. In a few days
Major How rode up. I turned out the guard, and after presenting arms
stood at attention. “Corporal, dismiss your guard, I want to see you
a moment.” Taking me one side he said, “You have been reported to the
headquarters of the regiment.” I explained the case to him. He patted
me on the shoulder and said, “Corporal, you are right; you are in
command of this post, and if the Apostle Paul undertakes to go through
this town, unless he wears the uniform of a brigadier-general, don’t
you let him go without showing his pass, and if he refuses bring him to
camp.” No corporal in the Union army felt better than I did that day,
and I was glad that the major had reported me.
In February we were relieved by another detail from the regiment and
ordered to Rockville. The night before we left, Mrs. Hayes, of one
of the first families of the town, gave us an oyster supper, and her
daughter, who was a pleasant young lady but a red-hot “reb,” presented
me with a rebel flag. Thirty-eight years have passed since those days,
but I shall never forget the kindness of those Darnestown people, and
trust that to-day they are prosperous and happy.
After a time we reported to the company at Rockville and found the
three field officers examining the non-commissioned officers. Although
we had been acting as “non-coms” since we left Massachusetts, none had
received warrants from the colonel. First Sergeant Cook and I joined
the procession. I was never more frightened in my life, as I had never
spoken to the colonel or lieutenant-colonel, and the examination
was unexpected. The marks were from one to five. In a few days, at
dress parade, Captain Merritt read the list. He called First Sergeant
Adams. I thought he meant my brother Isaac, who had been examined as
a sergeant, and I was pleased with his good fortune, when the captain
called “First Sergeant J. G. B. Adams,” and explained to the company
that I had passed the best examination and was promoted to that
position. I did not want the place. First Sergeant Cook was a good man
and was my friend. I went to the captain, told him I would prefer to be
second sergeant and let First Sergeant Cook remain. This arrangement
was made and I was happy.
Our duty at Rockville was very light. The boys had made the
acquaintance of many agreeable people there; I was introduced, and the
time passed pleasantly.
The colored people were holding revival meetings. As we had never
witnessed anything of the kind before we all attended, without regard
to religious convictions. The singing was of that wild, melodious
nature that only colored people can render. The clapping of hands and
stamping of feet, all in time, cause a thrill of excitement to run
through the coldest veins. With the colored people the effect is such
that they are lost to all else but the emotions of the hour. When
striving with the spirit it is a strife in reality. One night they
held a meeting of unusual interest, and Company A was represented by
a large delegation. Among the number was Uncle Ben Falls. Ben had
joined the company just before we left Lynnfield. He had been a sailor
and his kind heart and ready wit made him a favorite with all. That
night Ben was deeply interested. He joined in the hymn, and although
his voice might not accord with the rest there was no doubt but what
he sang with the same spirit. Soon the excitement reached its height;
sobs and groans were heard in all parts of the room, shouts of “Glory!”
went up from every heart. The spirit took possession of a girl named
Malinda, who was owned at the hotel where our officers boarded, and was
acquainted with our boys. She shrieked and groaned and in her striving
fell to the floor. The people shouted, “Hold Malinda! Oh, Lord, hold
Malinda! The spirit has got Malinda! Oh, Lord, hold her!” but none
went near her. This was too much for Ben. He rushed to the front, _sat
on her_ and held her down. This brought Malinda and the rest to their
senses and the meeting soon closed.
We enjoyed the pleasures of Rockville but a short time after our detail
joined the company, as we were ordered back to camp. A new company,
recruited in Salem and commanded by Capt. Chas. U. Devereaux, a brother
of our lieutenant-colonel, had joined the regiment. They were given the
letter H and nicknamed the “Lapstone Light Infantry,” old Company H
being disbanded and the men transferred to other companies.
March 1, by order of Colonel Hincks, I assumed the duties of first
sergeant, and of all the trying positions I have ever filled this was
the most so. If any one thinks that the life of an orderly sergeant
in active service is an amiable one let him try it. When the men are
not growling about you the captain is growling at you, and you are
constantly between two fires. About one-third of the men in Company A
had been members of the “Old Battalion,” and the town meeting tactics
that prevailed in the militia had not quite died out. I was a recruit,
and my promotion was not hailed with joy by the old men. It was said
by them that they were detailed for guard rainy days, and that in
other ways I favored the new men. They drew up a petition asking for
a change, and some twenty men signed it and, through a committee,
presented it to Captain Merritt. “What is this?” said the captain. “A
petition for a change in first sergeant,” was the reply. “Petition!
This is mutiny. Go to your quarters, and if I hear more of this I will
have every man court-marshalled and sent to ‘Dry Tortugus!’” That
settled the youngsters, and I was ever after obeyed and respected.