THE BATTALION AT NEWPORT NEWS ONCE MORE--THE GARRISON AND
OFFICERS--ANECDOTES OF GENERAL PHELPS--THE FAMOUS DRILLS--GUARD
DUTY--“PARISH” AND “BRICK” HOUSES--THE NEGROES--THE SOLDIERS
TEACH THE BOYS TO DRILL--COUNTING THE RAILS--SCOUTING.
The time which was spent by the Battalion at Newport News after it was
last ordered here (Aug. 18, 1861), covering as it did the remainder of
the term of service as such an organization, and embracing nearly five
months of its service as a part of the Twenty-ninth Regiment, seems
to demand a full account of the operations at this post during this
period; for although the place never possessed much significance after
the beginning of the Peninsular campaign, in May, 1862, yet it was here
that the members of the Battalion and regiment were thoroughly schooled
in their duties.
During the summer of 1861, Phelps (who was still in command here) had
been deservedly advanced to the rank of brigadier-general. The brief
account heretofore given of the early military career of this officer
scarcely furnishes our readers with anything more than a general
knowledge of him; for, although a soldier of the strictest sect, he
employed certain peculiar methods of discipline which most professional
military men would regard with disfavor, but which were none the less
wholesome, and admirably adapted to the volunteers, whose character he
seemed thoroughly to understand. All his orders of prohibition were
directed against the enlisted men, though he expected the officers to
take the hint and always set a good example.
A good illustration of this system of discipline is furnished by the
following incident: During the warm months, the soldiers were much in
the habit of bathing upon the beach, which was sandy and smooth, and
it was by no means infrequent that several hundreds of these bathers
were seen enjoying together the refreshing waters of the James. What
was chiefly objectionable about this was the practice of the men in
bathing at all hours of the day, and in large numbers; and the habit
was not wholly confined to the men, some of the officers of lesser
rank doing the same thing. Finally, an order was issued forbidding
bathing upon the beach between the hours of guard-mount in the morning
and retreat at night. Not long after the publication of the order, the
General, while sitting in front of his quarters, a little cottage that
overlooked the river and shore, observed two young officers preparing
to bathe in front of his house. Waiting till they had undressed, he
called to the Sergeant of the Guard, and ordered him to arrest the
two officers and bring them naked to his quarters. The Sergeant, with
good relish and alacrity, obeyed the order, and locking arms with the
nude officials, who begged loudly for their clothes, conducted them
(a highly-amused crowd of soldiers looking on from the camp) into the
presence of the Commander, who, though inwardly pleased, presented a
stern countenance.
“Have you heard of the order about bathing?” asked the General. “Yes,
General,” replied one of the culprits; “but we are officers, and the
order applies only to enlisted men.” “Very true, gentlemen,” says
Phelps, in his peculiar tone and Yankee accent; “but how is a soldier
to know an officer except by his dress? If you choose to bathe naked,
and expect to be recognized as officers, pray have your shoulder-straps
buttoned on to you. Go to your quarters.”
This ingenious and witty reprimand had all the effect of one of greater
severity, while it furnished the garrison with a good joke to laugh
over; and it showed, also, the democratic spirit in which the laws of
the post were to be administered.
Phelps was a superior drill-master, and it was to the rigid system
of drill inaugurated by him, and continued by his worthy successor,
General Mansfield, that the troops constituting the garrison at
Newport News owe much of the proficiency which they displayed in the
battles and campaigns of a later date. Any narrative of the life of
the Battalion at this place would be imperfect unless it embraced some
mention of the drills to which allusion has been made. The ground was
very favorable for extensive movements; the long plain was covered
with a thick coat of velvety grass, and very little broken. General
Phelps almost invariably took personal charge of these drills, though
he sometimes intrusted them to his colonels, a number of whom were
very able officers. The spectacle presented by these manœuvres was
often grand. The troops, consisting of four full regiments, three large
battalions, and a light battery, were exercised in all the varied field
movements, creating an interest among the troops that was sometimes
intense, and giving rise to a most wholesome rivalry among the officers
and men of the different regiments. An amusing incident occurred in
connection with one of these drills, which shows, perhaps, even better
than the anecdote just related, the eccentricity of Phelps, and his
novel methods of reproving delinquency.
A regiment belonging on the right of the line was late one day, and the
rest of the brigade was kept waiting several minutes for it to arrive.
At last the slow ones made their appearance, coming out of their camp
on the double-quick, in the hope of making up for their tardiness; but
when they were about two hundred yards off, the General gave an order
which swung the brigade by battalions, in mass, to the left and rear,
and then another that turned it end for end. The unfortunate regiment
was then in front of the line, double-quicking to its place. Phelps,
flinging the right wing of the brigade to the rear again, and the left
wing forward, kept the regiment trotting around the outside of the
field a full hour, with the massed battalions swinging on their centre,
away from them. At last he deployed in line again, by extension from
the left, and allowed the “double-quickers” to get to their place,
and when they had supported arms, the facetious old General promptly
raised his hat and dismissed the drill. The laggards had been suitably
punished for their lack of punctuality, and the General and the rest of
the soldiers had enjoyed a good joke.
Having spoken of the Commander of the Post, it seems proper to make
some allusion to his troops, and his most able subalterns, as a part of
the description of the personnel of the camp. After the departure of
the Fourth Massachusetts and First Vermont militia, and later the Ninth
New York, all of which regiments were made up of a fine class of men,
the permanent garrison here consisted of the First, Second, and Seventh
New York regiments, the remnants of the Eleventh New York, Ellsworth’s
old regiment, a portion of the Twentieth New York, the Massachusetts
Battalion, and Captain Loder’s U. S. Light Battery. The First New
York was an orderly body of troops, commanded by Colonel Dyckman, and
occupied a portion of the works on the extreme left of the brigade
line. The Second was raised chiefly in Troy, and became a good fighting
regiment; its colonel, Carr, was a talented officer, who afterwards
won a brigadier’s stars. The Seventh was, for a part of the time,
commanded by Colonel Bendix, the Eleventh by Lieutenant-Colonel Losier,
a well-drilled officer, and the Twentieth, German, by Max Weber, later
in the war a brigadier-general. The Seventh New York, composed wholly
of Germans, was a superior regiment in every respect, and several of
its officers had held, and some of them then held, high rank in the
army of Prussia. Early in the autumn of 1861, Colonel Bendix resigned,
and was succeeded by Lieutenant-Colonel Kappf, Major Caspar Keller
became Lieutenant-Colonel, and Captain George Von Schack of the
Prussian Guards was made Major. Not long after, Kappf resigned, and Von
Schack was promoted to the colonelcy, Keller very generously waiving
his claims. Von Schack was a soldier of high breeding and of the best
blood of Prussia; his father, General Von Schack, was the chief of
staff to Prince Frederick Carl in one or more campaigns of the army of
Prussia. When Colonel George Von Schack came to us, he was a lieutenant
of the Prussian Guards, and had been chamberlain to the Prince. Of
all the colonels of foreign, and particularly of continental, lineage
or extraction, in the early part of the war, Von Schack was the most
earnest in his efforts to learn the American way. From the first, he
gave his commands in English, and tolerated no innovation upon the
prescribed tactics of movements. He seemed exceedingly desirous of
learning the habits and traits of character of the Americans, and soon
proved himself a very apt student; for, beside learning to appreciate
those with whom he was fighting, he soon learned to appreciate and love
the cause for which he was fighting, and the Union army contained no
more ardent patriot than he. He was an excellent drill-master, and the
“Steuben Seventh,” under his command, acquired a name and a fame for
discipline and efficiency in the volunteers equal to that of the “Fancy
Seventh” in the militia. He served throughout the war with distinction,
was several times severely wounded in battle, and at the close of the
Rebellion held the well-earned rank of brigadier-general.
A camp so isolated as that at Newport News, being about twelve miles
from Fortress Monroe, and having no safe communication with it except
by water, required the establishment of an outpost and the maintenance
of a strong picket. To ensure immunity from an attack by sea, one or
more vessels of our navy were kept constantly anchored in the river. At
one time, early in the summer, the ship “Savannah” was on duty, but she
was soon after relieved by the frigate “Congress” and the sloop-of-war
“Cumberland,” the latter vessels remaining till the disastrous battle
of the 8th and 9th of March, 1862, when both were destroyed. The
picket line was very long, and for the most part located in the deep
forest which bordered the plain. Roads and foot-paths penetrated the
woods in every direction, furnishing so many avenues of approach to
our lines, rendering necessary not only the utmost vigilance, but a
strong guard. More than once, during the dark nights of the summer and
autumn, scouting parties of the enemy crept stealthily along these
covered ways, and attempted to surprise our sentinels. Several of
these picket stations were considerably remote from the camp; that of
“Brick House Station,” a large brick mansion standing in the midst
of an open field, and more properly an outpost, was the most distant
from the main camp; but the most isolated, and certainly the most
exposed of these stations, was the “Parish House,” occupied by an
infirm and aged Virginian, who claimed to be a Unionist, and who owned
some thirty slaves of all ages. His plantation was very large, and
skirted the shores of Hampton Roads. At this place, the small force
of three men and a corporal usually constituted the guard, which was
generally composed of members of the Battalion. The old planter was
very nervous, and always complaining of some real or fancied injury;
his swine and poultry, of which he had large numbers, frequently came
home at night with diminished ranks. But his chief and more serious
affliction was caused by the voluntary departure of his able-bodied
negroes; they would hover about the Union camp in spite of all the
old man could do or say. The few that remained with him consisted
chiefly of faithful old women and helpless children. Among the latter
was a bright-eyed, well-favored mulatto boy, about ten years old; he
soon became the favorite of our soldiers, who shortened an old musket
for him, and taught him the manual of arms. The youth became very
proficient in the exercise, and imparted his military knowledge to the
other young negro boys upon the plantation, who, providing themselves
with sticks and brooms, frequently drilled under their little chief in
the presence of the guard.
When the cool nights of September and October came, service upon the
picket line was by no means agreeable; to keep themselves warm, the
men would build fires, and, although there was scarcely any part
of the line destitute of material for a fire, yet the rail fences,
composed of well-seasoned wood, were usually taken for this purpose.
When this practice became known at headquarters, General Wool issued a
very stringent order forbidding it. Each field-officer of the day was
instructed by General Phelps to use his utmost endeavors to cause this
order to be complied with, but it was far more easy to give such orders
than to enforce them. Some of the stations could not be reached at all
by this officer at night, and many of them not oftener than once in
twenty-four hours; the result was, that this order was practically a
nullity.
On a certain occasion, during the time of which we have spoken, Captain
Clarke of the Battalion was field-officer of the day. As was always
the case, he received special instructions from General Phelps to
enforce the order relative to the burning of rails. Clarke was relieved
by Major Gaebel of the Seventh New York, and the two officers, as
is customary, proceeded to the headquarters of General Phelps just
after guard-mount, Captain C. having turned over to his successor
the orders received by him on the day previous. The General stated
to Major Gaebel that there were no new orders relative to the duties
of the officer of the day, and if he had received the orders from
Captain C., he was sufficiently informed concerning them, though he
considered it necessary to call his attention to the particular order
about burning rails,--that it “must be enforced.” Major G. replied that
Captain Clarke had already called his attention to that matter, and he
“would see that it was enforced.” Phelps, well aware of the practice
of the guards, replied, “O, yes, you will see that it is enforced; all
officers are willing to do that”; and then, turning to Clarke, said,
“Now, yesterday morning, Captain, I called your attention specially
to this subject; but it was very cold last night, and you may depend
upon it the men did not suffer for want of rails, order or no order.”
This seemed to Clarke like a reflection upon his official conduct, and,
without considering the effect of his words, he promptly answered,
“There were no rails burned last night, sir.” “O, indeed!” said Phelps;
“then it is true, is it, that no rails were burned last night?” “No,
sir; not a rail,” said Clarke, with an air of increased assurance and
injured dignity. “O, indeed! And pray, Captain, how do you know?” With
this question, the dialogue had reached an interesting point; sure
enough, how did he know? and what would he say to this? There were
miles of rail fences, and almost an infinite number of rails. “Why,”
said the quick-witted Captain, now fairly driven to the wall, “when I
received your orders yesterday morning, I proceeded to count the rails,
and just before coming off duty this morning, I again counted them; and
they were all there, General, every one.” This answer was evidently
unexpected by Phelps; it would have been unmilitary to question the
veracity of his subaltern; but he evidently didn’t believe the absurd
statement, though uttered with great apparent candor, and with every
show of good faith. The General’s countenance suddenly changed; it was
a terrible test of his courtesy not to say something disagreeable,
and, with a look of undisguised astonishment, he turned from Clarke to
Gaebel, and said, “Major, count the rails! Good morning, gentlemen!”
Whether the Major ever counted the rails, we do not know, but it
is reported, that, upon leaving the office of General Phelps, he
expressed his regrets for having had imposed upon him, through Clarke’s
intemperate statement, a duty that would consume the remainder of his
term to perform.
On the 21st of October, the Battalion had a little affair with the
enemy, on the Warwick Road, about five miles from Newport News, by
which it earned considerable praise and reputation for steadiness. A
bakery having been established at Camp Butler (Newport News), large
quantities of fuel was required. At various points throughout the vast
forest, which, with slight interruptions, stretched from Hampton Roads
to Richmond, were piles of seasoned wood; one of these, containing
several hundred cords, was located near the bank of the James River,
and on the road before mentioned. On the morning of the day named,
Captain Barnes received orders from General Phelps to take the teams
of the post (twenty-one wagons and eighty-two mules and horses) and go
into the forest for wood. Barnes took with him two hundred officers
and men. Lieutenant Mayo had the immediate supervision of the train,
Chamberlain had the advance, and Clarke the rear of the column; and a
small body of scouts, under a corporal of Company I, was thrown out
some distance in advance of the head of the column. The road for most
of the distance lay through a dense wilderness. When the little band
had reached a point about a mile from its destination, the scouts came
suddenly upon an ambuscade of the enemy, on the right of the road,
where the forest was deep and dark. The Confederates rose up quickly
from behind some logs and bushes, where up to that moment they had
lain concealed, discharged their pieces, and at the same moment made a
rush for our scouts, capturing one of the number, Augustus A. Blaney,
and then hurrying away with him into their lines. The companies were
ordered up immediately, filed to the left of the road, and formed in
line of battle. There seemed to be quite a number of the enemy in
the woods, and although our men could only here and there catch a
glimpse of them as they skulked behind the trees, yet they fired a
volley or two, whereupon the enemy fled. The train then proceeded to
the wood-pile, the wagons were filled and started homeward, meeting
on the way the Seventh New York Regiment and Loder’s Light Battery,
which had been sent out by General Phelps, after the firing began, to
render aid to the Battalion. This affair, though really very trifling,
caused considerable excitement at the time, and the officers and men
were highly complimented by both Generals Phelps and Wool; the conduct
of the Battalion on this occasion acquiring some additional importance
from the fact that every previous attempt of our troops to obtain wood
in that locality had been frustrated by the enemy, and had resulted in
the capture, in more than one instance, of several of our men and teams.
One of the unsuccessful efforts to gather wood at this place was the
origin of a good story, which was often told in Camp Butler; and though
the author does not vouch for its entire accuracy, yet he gives it as
another specimen of Phelps’s wit, and as a camp story, whatever its
worth.
The German officer who had charge of this expedition, as the story
goes, reported to the General an encounter with the enemy, and the loss
of four mules. “Did you lose any men killed?” asked Phelps. “No, sir.”
“Any wounded?” “No, sir; but, mein Gott, Scheneral, they carry off
four jackass.” “Very well, Captain, you will charge those four jackass
to yourself on the next pay-roll,” quietly answered the General. In
the course of a few days, the same officer came to headquarters and
reported another skirmish, the capture by his command of two or three
of the enemy and a pair of horses, and one or two slight casualties
in his company. The officer stood before Phelps with dilated eyes,
as he made his report, his face glowing with enthusiasm and pride at
the thought of his gallant performance, and the expectation of being
cordially commended for it by his superior; but his ardor was somewhat
abated by the following congratulation: “I am very glad, Captain, you
have got those horses, for now you needn’t pay for but two of the mules
you lost.”
The Battalion having acquired a reputation for bravery, and won the
confidence of General Phelps, by its success on the Warwick Road, that
officer was very naturally led into again selecting it for the same
service; and in the course of a few weeks from that time, Captain
Barnes received orders to go for wood. The five companies, with a large
number of teams, marched up the river to the wood-pile which has just
been mentioned, and loaded all the wagons without being molested by the
enemy. When this was accomplished, the teams were headed toward camp,
accompanied by a strong guard, the balance of the Battalion following
slowly in the rear.
The train had gone but a short distance, when the advance guard
reported that the enemy were visible in the woods in front, apparently
in large numbers. The teams were at once stopped, and it was soon found
that the report was correct, and that a considerable force of the
enemy’s cavalry were evidently moving into position, for the purpose
of intercepting our train. The situation of the Battalion was rather
serious in its nature. It was readily seen by the officers that it
would be a difficult undertaking to force a passage with the long line
of wagons loaded with wood, with their mules and horses. Prompt action
was required. A forest road was fortunately discovered that led toward
the James River, and gradually towards camp; and this road was found
to terminate near the river, at a stream which flowed into the James.
From the other side of this stream, the road continued toward camp;
but this rivulet, which was probably fordable at certain seasons of
the year, was at this time impassable for teams. Our skirmishers were
directed to occupy the attention of the enemy if necessary, while the
head of the train was turned into the forest road, and a strong detail
of men, under Captain Doten, made to throw a bridge across the stream.
With great celerity, rails and logs were gathered, and a rude bridge
constructed, over which our wagons all managed to cross with safety,
and were no sooner on the other side than they struck the open lands on
the banks of the James River, and moved rapidly toward camp.
The enemy, who were some distance away, and between whom and the main
body of the Battalion there intervened a dense woods, were wholly
ignorant of these movements, evidently supposing that the wagons could
move to camp only on the main road, which they were guarding. They had
not even deemed it necessary to attack our skirmishers, until they saw
our wagons a long distance away, moving across the open country. They
then, for the first time, realized that they had been outwitted, and
immediately moved forward to attack the Battalion. The skirmishers
fell back, and the Battalion formed in line of battle.
The whole situation had been changed. The wagons were now safe,
and were on their way toward camp; and this having been happily
accomplished, our men were unhampered, and in a condition to give the
enemy a warm reception. This the Confederates seemed to realize fully,
and after exchanging a few shots, withdrew, the Battalion marching
leisurely to camp. At the “Brick House Picket,” they were met by
General Phelps, who had been already informed of the affair by the
officer in immediate charge of the train. When the General learned how
the movement had been conducted, he was greatly pleased, and bestowed
warm commendations upon the officers and men of the Battalion.
As, in the course of this narrative, we are soon to speak of a change
in the command of the post, and hence to take leave of General Phelps,
we feel that we cannot do so without giving a few more instances of his
sparkling wit.
One day, a young artillery officer, fresh from civil life, was observed
to have the wrists of his new white gauntlets covered with tables
written with ink. He was asked by the General what these figures were,
and why he had them written upon his gauntlets. The young officer
explained that his memory of ranges and elevations was poor, and he
had hit upon that plan of having them always before him. “Now, that
is very ingenious,” said Phelps; “a West Point officer, I dare say,
would never have thought of that.” “Yes,” said the officer, delighted
by the General’s apparent approval of his plan, “I thought it was a
most excellent idea.” “I see but one drawback to it,” said the General;
“if you should happen to lose your gloves, you would have to let your
sergeant command the battery.” Those gauntlets were never seen on drill
afterwards.
An acting adjutant of one of the regiments at Newport News made, while
on drill, several humiliating blunders. The General thought it an
opportunity for a moral lecture to all the officers. “Adjutant,” said
he, “if you spent more time over your books, and less time in drinking
and carousing, you would appear far more creditably on drill.” “Excuse
me, General, but I don’t drink,” replied the officer. “Well,” said
Phelps, “I am very sorry for it. There’s no excuse whatever, then, for
your blunders; ‘tis sheer stupidity.”
The General understood all the peculiarities of volunteer soldiers, and
where they operated to the disadvantage of good discipline, he sought
to correct them, not as would most officers, by punishment, but by some
ingenious device, often mirth-provoking, but none the less salutary in
its effects. One of these traits of the volunteers, the outgrowth of
their free American life, and their habits of study and self-reliance,
was a keen desire to know the object and reason of every order given
them, and, if not told the object, to guess at it, and then execute
the order with sole reference to its supposed intent. This propensity
had annoyed General Phelps exceedingly. To effectually break up this
habit, and to substitute for it the obedience of the regular, was his
desire, and he watched for some good opportunity to teach the lesson to
all his officers. The opportunity soon presented itself. A Confederate
tug-boat, armed with a gun of long range, came down the James one day
and commenced firing at the United States ship “Savannah.” The General
ordered a gun to be fired at her with 14° of elevation. The officer
in charge of our battery, who was a member of the Battalion, thought
16° would be better, and giving the gun that range, made a superb
shot, sending a ball directly through the smoke-stack of the tug. “Now
you have the range, Lieutenant, fire away,” was the General’s sole
remark, as he turned and left the battery. The tug turned and steamed
away up the river, and was soon out of range. The Lieutenant thought
himself highly complimented by the General, exerted himself to the
utmost to fire rapidly, and at mess that night related the incident
to his brother officers with great gusto, not hesitating to assert
that his knowledge of artillery practice was even superior to that of
the commanding general. At midnight, General Phelps sent for Captain
Barnes, commanding the Battalion. On his reporting, the General began
afar off, “I was wakeful to-night, and thought you might be willing to
relieve me of my uneasiness by giving me a little of your company,”
and then he began talking in this wise. “The officers and men are
all good, but they are volunteers; they are better than regulars in
one respect,--they are zealous,--but they are very bad in another:
they think of the object of an order, and execute it zealously in
the direction of the object they imagine is intended. Now, there is
Lieutenant ---- of your command, a capital officer, very zealous and
intelligent; he has a first-rate notion about artillery; he makes
excellent shots. I told him to fire at the tug to-day, and to give the
gun 14° elevation, but he gave it 16°, and made as good a long shot as
I ever saw: he hit the boat; his zeal carried him away; he didn’t obey
his orders; he thought I wanted him to hit the boat; I wanted, instead,
to tole her down nearer, when I could have easily blown her out of the
water. Your Lieutenant thus spoiled my whole plan. Now, go back to your
quarters, call the Lieutenant up, and tell him this, that I have just
told you; make him understand it. That is all the punishment I think he
will need.”
Lieutenant ---- was duly summoned, and received his reprimand. While he
never again boasted of his skill as an artillerist, and was compelled
to endure the jests of his brother officers, he nevertheless learned a
lesson of implicit obedience to orders, that proved very valuable to
him during the remainder of his honorable service in the army.