MOVEMENTS AFTER THE SIEGE--THE REGIMENT LEAVES
KNOXVILLE--THE CONDITION OF THE TROOPS--BLAINE’S
CROSS-ROADS--THE MEN RE-ENLIST--STRAWBERRY PLAIN--FIGHT WITH
THE CONFEDERATE CAVALRY--THE REGIMENT GOES TO KNOXVILLE--ERIN
STATION--THE CORN EXPEDITION--TRANSFER OF NON-RE-ENLISTING MEN
TO THE THIRTY-SIXTH MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT--LONG MARCHES--THE
SNOW-STORM--ORDERED HOME--MARCH OVER THE CUMBERLAND
MOUNTAINS--THE REGIMENT REACHES BOSTON--THE RECEPTIONS.
Early in the morning of the 7th of December, the Brigade started with
other troops of the Ninth Corps in the direction of Morristown, in
pursuit of the retreating enemy.
As showing the decimation which disease and suffering had wrought in
the ranks of the regiment, one of its companies was able to muster
that morning but one commissioned officer, one sergeant, one corporal,
and three privates. Nearly one-quarter of the Ninth Corps remained
in Knoxville for these and equally good reasons. There were over a
thousand men of the First Division in camp there, who had done duty
through the siege, but who could not march at this time because of
their sick and enfeebled condition and lack of suitable clothing. All
who were not absolutely sick and destitute were put in readiness for
active duty in the course of ten days, and sent to their regiments. In
order to fit out these men, the sutlers’ shops and stores of the town
were ransacked for clothing, blankets, etc. If boots and shoes could
not be found at the commissary department, or furnished by it, the men
purchased them with their own money, and set out for the front; and
when these articles could not be bought, the old shoes were tapped in
camp with leather or raw-hide; and when the latter resource failed, as
it often did, raw-hide moccasins were cobbled up. Coats and trousers
were patched with old blankets or the capes of overcoats; coverlids and
bed-quilts were bought of the inhabitants of Knoxville, and issued to
those who were destitute of blankets. This was the motley character of
the outfit of the large majority of the soldiers who took part in that
distressing winter campaign of which we are about to speak. On the 8th
of December, the regiment reached a place called Blaine’s Cross-Roads,
where it remained only one day. On the next day it marched to Rutledge,
pausing here till the 15th; on the latter day returning to Blaine’s
Cross-Roads.
Before entering upon a description of the life passed in this memorable
camp, it seems proper to speak of some of the special duties performed
by the soldiers in this department, and especially by the members of
the regiment. Nearly every man in Company K of East Boston, and many
members of other companies, were handy with tools. The East Boston men
were acquainted with calking and graving and ship-carpentry; and the
engineer officers of the corps were not slow in finding it out. Since
our army had entered East Tennessee, a large portion of its pontoon
train had been destroyed. The army was now operating in a country
full of rivers, and at this, the rainy season, few could be forded:
railroad bridges had been destroyed by both armies, and to enable the
army to move, these must be rebuilt; no flour or meal could be found in
the country except what the army could grind in the mills from wheat
and corn foraged. Many of these mills had been broken down, and it
was necessary to repair them. Skilful mechanics were hence in great
demand, and as the wants of the army grew more pressing, the soldier
who could repair a mill or build a boat came to be more esteemed than a
major-general. As we have stated, the Twenty-ninth was very fortunate
in having a large number of mechanics in its ranks, and consequently
many details were made from it for these purposes. At one time nearly a
whole company was engaged in building pontoon boats. The men felled the
large trees, cut them into plank with two-handed saws and a saw-pit,
and with this green lumber, built large, clumsy “dories” and strong
ferry-boats, calking them with cotton, and graving them with gum
(obtained in the forests).
At one time nearly a third of the regiment was set at engineering-work
of one sort or another; and in this and other like labors, were kept
employed through the rest of the month of December. This handiness of
the men was in part the result of their native Yankee ingenuity and
strong self-reliance. While few, if any, were professional engineers
or millwrights, yet their knowledge of carpentry and of the use of
mechanics’ tools enabled them to do a fair piece of work of almost any
description, and led them to attempt many things that they had never
seen done.
The author does not wish to create the impression that this handiness
and mechanical skill was wholly confined to the Twenty-ninth Regiment.
It was quite general in the whole Ninth Corps, in which were several
other Massachusetts regiments. It was about this time that the
coffee-mill was introduced, with the outfit, to grind corn and wheat.
Who originated the idea, cannot now be known; but it was a happy one,
and saved the men from much destitution and labor, Christ’s brigade
having two or three of these machines in every company. “There must
have been a corner,” says an officer, “in this article of ironmongery,
at that time, in East Tennessee. But the Twenty-ninth was superior
even to a corner, for when these articles became scarce from having
been worn out, one of the men got a file, and gathering three or four
discarded coffee-mills, recut their scores, and fitted out his friends
and comrades with something almost as good as new.”
The favorite theory of some, even professional military men, that
a good soldier should be, and is, a good machine, never using his
reasoning faculties, or exercising his own judgment, finds no
corroboration in the history of this campaign. But for the intelligence
and sterling common-sense of our soldiers here, giving them complete
adaptability to all the varied circumstances of their situation, they
would have perished from the cold and hunger of that mountainous and
terribly destitute country.
A knowledge of the laws of health taught them that the practice of
getting a full meal as often as the rations would allow, though it be
but once a day, was a better way of sustaining life and health, than
that of taking three or four scanty meals, and being hungry all the
time; they learned for themselves the beneficial effect of sleeping
as much as possible by a blazing fire, and taking every precaution
to keep the body warm. But neither intelligence, good judgment, nor
the use of cunning devices, nor all combined, could wholly avail the
soldiers against the absolute want that prevailed in that dreary winter
camp. Blaine’s Cross-Roads was the Valley Forge of the Rebellion. It
was a bleak, mountainous plain, some twenty miles from Knoxville. The
ground was for much of the time well covered with snow and ice. Many
of the men were without shoes or stockings, and to supply this want,
raw-hides were issued, which the destitute soldiers fashioned into rude
moccasins. The garments of both officers and men were in tatters, and
all sorts of expedients were resorted to, to protect themselves from
the cold; some whose trousers were ragged, cut up their overcoats for
patches; others still were without blankets. The army was quartered
in shelter-tents; nothing except the abundance of wood saved the men
from freezing. The suffering from want of food was, if possible, even
greater than that which arose from a lack of clothing and shelter. “At
one issue of rations, each man received for his mite eight ounces of
flour for nine days. One tablespoonful of coffee was issued once in
from three to five days.”[43] It was not possible for men to exist upon
such a small quantity of food, and hence they resorted to foraging. The
food-hunting excursions that grew out of this state of pinching poverty
often extended far into the surrounding country, but they commonly
resulted in sore disappointment.
The loyal farmers had been stripped of nearly all their supplies by the
army of the enemy; but they were touched by pity at seeing our hungry
men, and listening to their earnest requests for food, and occasionally
some large-hearted planter would share with them his meagre stock
of provisions, and send them away from his door with a small piece
of bacon or a few pounds of meal. The pangs of hunger are not easy
to be endured. After the teamsters had fed their animals at night,
the half-famished soldiers would creep stealthily to the pens, steal
the corn upon which the poor animals were feeding, and then betaking
themselves to their tents, spend a large part of the night in grinding
and cooking it. So general did this practice of stealing the food of
the animals become, that guards were regularly stationed over them
whenever they were fed; but the guards, as hungry as their fellows,
stole the corn themselves.
The author is well aware of the distressing nature of these details,
but the story of Blaine’s Cross-Roads has never before been published
to the world, so far as his knowledge extends, and showing as it
does that the sufferings of our soldiers in this campaign were not
surpassed by those of our revolutionary soldiers even at Valley Forge,
he has deemed it important to give a somewhat minute account of these
privations. The story is well calculated to disprove the favorite
theory of many, that the habits of luxury of the Americans of to-day
have resulted in both physical and moral degeneracy. Washington’s
soldiers at Valley Forge were mutinous, and at times could not be
commanded,[44] but the Union soldiers at Blaine’s Cross-Roads were
obedient, and so far forgetful of their sufferings, that, without
murmuring, they performed every task assigned to them, and whenever
their brave old enemy made his appearance, they were ready to fight.
Pack and draught animals died by scores here and at other places in the
department, by reason of the scarcity of food. This state of things
made it necessary to lessen the number of mounts usually allowed in
the army. Only one pack mule was allowed to a regiment for officers’
baggage and mess kit, and two to the brigade headquarters. Writing
concerning the experiences of this winter, an officer of the regiment
says: “It is well known that a mule will thrive on fence rails, but it
may be a benefit to future campaigners to know that sassafras twigs are
very nourishing and satisfactory to a hungry horse, and that he can be
kept fat on them.”
The law of Congress which provided for the payment of large bounties to
re-enlisting veterans, was designed to retain in the service an army of
trained and skilful men. In pursuance of this law, the War Department
issued an order just before the close of the year 1863, promising,
in addition to the bounty, a furlough of thirty days, provided a
sufficient number of men enlisted in each regiment to constitute
an organization of that size, the furlough to be given before the
expiration of the original term. Strange as it may seem, a very large
majority of the members of the Twenty-ninth re-enlisted under this
order, while they were enduring the famine, toil, and nakedness of
Blaine’s Cross-Roads. On the first day of January, 1864, they were
mustered into the service of the United States for another term of
three years, as the Twenty-ninth Veteran Regiment of Massachusetts
Volunteer Infantry. But they were doomed to disappointment as to
receiving at once the promised furlough.
On the 16th of January, the whole corps was ordered out of camp, and
moved to Strawberry Plain, a station on the East Tennessee and Virginia
Railroad, crossed the Holston River, and went into camp upon the banks.
General Sheridan, who was in command of the Fourth Corps (also engaged
in this movement), assumed command of all the troops. This march,
though only of seven miles, was one of the hardest of the campaign; the
roads, which were frozen at night, thawed during the day, producing
mud several inches in depth; and the men were so feeble from the
effects of their suffering, that it required nearly all the strength
they possessed to get along. The regiment was now under the command of
Colonel Barnes,--Pierce having the command of a brigade. During the
siege of Knoxville, Barnes reached our forces at Cumberland Gap, on his
way to his regiment, and here he remained till the siege was raised,
on duty as a member of the staff of the general in command there. He
reached his regiment on the 26th of December, at Blaine’s Cross-Roads.
On the expedition above spoken of, the Twenty-ninth went no farther
than the first halting-place, on the Holston. Its camp was formed
near a famous trestle railroad bridge, that spanned the river at this
point. The bridge was famous because of its great value and skilful
construction, and from the fact that it had been repeatedly destroyed
and rebuilt by both armies. While the bulk of the army was operating
far beyond, in the direction of Virginia, the regiment, with a few
other troops of the Ninth Corps, seemed to be left here for the purpose
of protecting this bridge. In the course of several days afterwards,
the expeditionary army began to return, moving towards Knoxville; and
at midnight of the 20th, the regiment was ordered to recross the river.
Falling back about three miles from the bank, it halted, and remained
in camp till the 22d, other troops taking its place as a guard at the
bridge, where, on the 21st, a sharp skirmish was had with the enemy,
who attempted to cross.
The First Division of the Ninth Corps was assigned to the duty of
covering the retreat of our army. At midnight of the 22d, the regiment
marched two miles to the rear, and halted for the troops that had
been in advance to pass. These troops had with them two brass pieces
of artillery, drawn by the men. The regiment followed on behind the
artillery till daybreak, when one of these guns, having been abandoned,
they took charge of it. “The men, without much complaint, formed
along, took up the cold, stiff rope attached to the cannon, and were
soon on the march again, dragging the heavy piece after them, over
the frozen road, that had been badly cut up by the passing trains.
Up and down hills, over streams, and through fields and forests, the
men dragged the gun, exerting all their strength.”[45] When within
twelve miles of Knoxville, the regiment was met by horses sent out to
take in the artillery, and were thus relieved of their charge. During
this movement, the Seventy-ninth New York Highlanders acted as rear
guard, with the Twenty-ninth as a support, Colonel Morrison of the
Seventy-ninth being in command of both regiments.
At about noon (22d), when ten miles from Knoxville, word was sent to
the Twenty-ninth regiment, from the headquarters of the Ninth Corps,
then two or three miles away, that a halt was to be made for dinner,
and that the Twenty-ninth and Seventy-ninth might govern themselves
accordingly. All seemed comparatively quiet at the moment, and Colonel
Barnes ordered his regiment to halt. The staff-officers removed the
saddles from their horses, to give the weary animals a little rest,
while both men and officers stretched themselves upon the ground. They
had scarcely settled down to rest, when a number of sharp shots were
heard from the direction of the skirmish line, indicating that the
enemy had struck our rear. The horses were quickly saddled, and the
line formed. Shortly the Seventy-ninth was seen coming down the hill,
steadily but rapidly. “Here they come!” cried one of the officers, and
in a moment more the enemy made their appearance. The two regiments
now formed in the field. A large body of the enemy’s cavalry, with
drawn sabres, shouting and screaming, dashed down the road. Our men
brought their pieces up instantly and fired a well-aimed volley, and
the troopers fell back into the woods. But in a few moments they again
appeared, this time in the field. Our troops now took the road and
the edge of the woods that skirted the field, and as the cavalry came
across the open space at a rapid run, shouting to our men to surrender,
they received both a front and flank fire at the same moment. The line
was thoroughly broken, and the horsemen instantly scattered and fled
for the woods in their rear, under a heavy fire. As soon as the battle
began, word was forwarded to the corps, and orders were sent back for
the regiments to retire gradually, and hold the enemy in check. The
enemy almost wholly disappeared, and the officers began to suspect
an extensive flanking movement. Our men fell back rapidly for the
distance of a mile, halted, and sent out a line of skirmishers. The
Confederates appeared in front in small squads, firing a few shots to
attract our attention, but presently, as had been anticipated, their
main body appeared on our left flank. The two regiments now began to
retreat in line of battle,--through woods, over fences, across streams
and meadows,--keeping up a constant skirmish, till they arrived within
three miles of Knoxville, where they made a stand and drove their
pursuers back.
On the 24th of January, the regiment passed through Knoxville, flying
its tattered flags, and marched about five miles southwest of the city,
to a beautiful place known as Erin Station, on the Virginia and East
Tennessee Railroad. The scarcity of food for both men and beasts was
now, notwithstanding the raising of the siege, nearly as great as it
had been during the preceding autumn and early winter, and all troops
not required for actual field service were being employed in gathering
such supplies as the already much-exhausted country afforded.
On the 25th, Colonel Barnes was ordered to forage south of Clinch
River, and taking with him a large number of wagons and all his men
fit to march, set out in the direction named. A halt for the night was
made at Mr. Black’s plantation, Black’s Ford, on the Clinch. Black
was a farmer of means, and possessed a large store of corn, a portion
of which was taken the next morning, Mr. Black receiving therefor a
written receipt enabling him to obtain pay for it from the Government,
upon proof of his loyalty. The trains then forded the river and
divided, Major Chipman taking charge of one division and Colonel Barnes
of the other. Chipman, who had a less number of wagons to load, reached
the camp of the regiment at Erin Station in advance of the other
detachment, which had a long journey, but returned on the 28th with
well-filled wagons.
After moving about the country considerably, Colonel Barnes came to
the plantation of one Sheriff Staples, whose corn-fields were very
extensive. Upon entering the fields, it appeared that the corn had been
gathered, and as the battalion was about leaving, some keen fellow
ventured upon a further examination, resulting in the discovery that
the corn on the outside rows had been plucked, while in the centre of
the field there was great abundance of it. This plan had been devised
to deceive foragers, but it failed to operate successfully this time.
Members of the regiment speak of a certain family named “Crow,” whose
place they visited on this march, and whose conduct and appearance were
so suspicious, that they deemed it unwise to lodge or eat in the house.
Much of the country travelled over on this march had never before been
visited by the regiment, and in searching for the large farms, the
officers were often obliged to inquire the way of the country people.
One familiar answer to such inquiries was, “Two looks and a screech”;
and another, “Six bends and a go-over”; the meaning of which latter
expression was, you will pass six bends or turns in the road, and cross
one bridge--“go-over”--before reaching the place inquired about. The
extreme ignorance of some of the people of this region is well shown by
a conversation which Lieutenant Whitman had with a farmer’s wife, to
whom he said that he came from Boston, Massachusetts. “I come from them
parts myself,” said the old lady. “Ah! whereabouts, Madam?” asked the
officer. “Tarry Haute, Indianny,” was the intelligent answer.
January 29. A written order from division headquarters directed the
regiment to make immediate arrangements to proceed on their veteran
furlough, and that the non-re-enlisting members of the regiment,
about one hundred in number, should at once be transferred to the
Thirty-sixth Massachusetts Regiment. The order was an unjust one, and
contemplated a complete dissolution of the connection of these men
with the Twenty-ninth, and forcing them, wholly against their will,
to become members of the Thirty-sixth Regiment. It was in effect a
severe punishment for not being willing to serve the Government for a
longer term than that which they had originally agreed to. If it had
been simply an assignment to duty with the Thirty-sixth Regiment, there
would have been no cause for complaint, and no injurious consequences
would have resulted from it; but their names were to be dropped from
the rolls of the Twenty-ninth, and as some of the transferred men were
absent in hospitals and on detached duty, the names of the latter were
not taken up on the rolls of the Thirty-sixth, and much confusion and
difficulty as to their pay and discharge came from it. Colonel Barnes,
who commanded the regiment at the time of the order, clearly foreseeing
its baneful effects, attempted to have it modified; but he was unable
to do so, and all the evils predicted by him finally became apparent.
It was not till the midsummer of 1864, that the Government discovered
this blunder, and then orders were issued directing the re-transfer of
all non-re-enlisting men to their old regiments. At this time both the
Twenty-ninth and Thirty-sixth regiments were at the front, engaged in
the severe duties of an active campaign. Books and papers had been lost
in the terrible marches and battles from the Wilderness to the James;
officers and men had been killed; and not a few of the old officers of
the Twenty-ninth had been discharged. The execution of the last-named
order devolved on the Thirty-sixth Regiment; but they were, for the
reasons already given, utterly unable to comply with it; and though
every effort was made to set the matter right, and the commanding
officer of the Twenty-ninth rendered all the aid in his power, yet the
order could not be, and never was, fully executed. One of the most
serious results of the original order of transfer was the loss of the
final record of some of the transferred men, including several who were
actually killed in battle while serving in the Thirty-sixth Regiment.
The aged mother of one of these poor fellows, who was killed at the
Wilderness, applied for a pension, and was informed by the pension
officer that the rolls of the Twenty-ninth showed that the name of
her son had been dropped, and that as the rolls of the Thirty-sixth
Regiment did not bear it, the conclusion was he had deserted.
The movements of the regiment during February and March were so
numerous, that we cannot describe them with much detail, but will speak
of them briefly under their dates.
February 15. Moved camp to a place near Knoxville, in a drenching
rain-storm. A part of the march was performed during the night, which
was very black and wild.
February 18. Again moved, keeping near the city, however. The night was
very cold.
February 24. The regiment and corps, including the Thirty-sixth
Regiment, broke camp at daybreak, marched three miles beyond Strawberry
Plain, and camped in the woods. During this march the officers were
without horses, tents, or blankets.
Under the date of February 26, the diary of a field-officer of the
regiment, from which we quote, has the following:--
“Same place. Sent the tents, etc., to the bridge to be taken to
Knoxville. Move to-morrow, at daybreak. The little the ‘mess’
had to eat was destroyed by fire last night. I have no money,
no horse; clothes in rags; boots worn through on the soles, and
burnt; no tobacco; no chance to buy anything if I had money;
couldn’t get forage if horses were here. Slept on the ground in
front of a fire, with one ragged blanket. Very cold.”
If a field-officer was thus destitute, how much greater must have been
the destitution of the men! The regiment had not been paid for more
than six months.
February 27. Moved to Strawberry Plain. Crossed the Holston River in
boats, and moved forward two miles into the woods. Encamped for the
night.
February 28. Sunday. The horses were returned to the officers. The
whole corps moved through New Market to Mossy Creek, a distance of
eleven miles, and formed a camp.
February 29. Marched to Morristown. It rained in torrents all day and
night. An attack by the enemy was rumored, and the troops received
orders to be prepared for it.
March 1. In camp all day. Severe, cold rain. Many of the soldiers agree
in saying, that this was one of the most uncomfortable days spent in
the army.
March 2. Moved at half-past four, A. M., to Mossy Creek. At
midnight the order came for the whole corps to retire across the creek.
The blundering and confused manner in which the orders were given,
indicated “that somebody in authority was badly frightened, without
cause.”
March 3. Moved forward across the creek again, and camped.
March 5. The regiment had a skirmish with the enemy’s cavalry while on
picket.
March 12. Colonel Barnes was placed in command of the Brigade, the
command of the regiment devolving upon Major Chipman. Moved to
Morristown.
March 13. The enemy attacked our pickets, causing some excitement, but
nothing serious resulted.
March 14. The regiment and brigade marched with the First Brigade to a
cross-roads, as a support to the latter, in their movement towards the
enemy’s lines. While here the First Brigade dashed upon the enemy, and
scattered and broke up one of his camps.
March 17. The regiment and corps moved through the woods and fields to
New Market. The day was very cold, and the march extremely hard.
March 18. Marched to within seven miles of Knoxville, crossing the
Holston on pontoons. The day was very cold. On the next day the
regiment went into camp near Fort Sanders.
March 21. The corps and regiment marched to Clinton, nineteen miles,
and encamped upon the banks of the Clinch River.
The regiment had already received orders to go to Massachusetts on its
veteran furlough. It had been arranged for a part of the men--those
who were the most destitute and unfit to march--to go by rail by way
of Chattanooga and Nashville; while the balance, by far the minority,
were to perform the march over the Cumberland Mountains. Captain
Richardson was placed in command of the railroad party, and started
on his trip about March 20. The mountain party under command of Major
Chipman--Colonel Barnes having been assigned to the command of the
Brigade--were provided with six pack mules and saddles, with which to
transport their baggage over the mountains. The allowance was indeed
scanty, for the march was to be a long one; no food could be obtained
on the road, and these animals were to carry all the necessary stores,
tents of officers, mess kits, and other baggage.
On the 22d of March, the Brigade was ferried across the Clinch River
in scows. Here a furious snow-storm came on, which grew so severe as
to prevent the balance of the corps from crossing. Colonel Barnes was
ordered to move on without waiting for the rest of the troops; the
air was biting cold and raw, and the roads frozen and slippery. The
officers were compelled to dismount and lead their horses; while the
men, many of whom were poorly off for shoes, suffered intensely from
cold feet. Worn out, tired, and miserable as men could be, the camp
was formed early in the afternoon in a forest near the roadside. To
add to their misery, a heavy rain-storm set in soon after nightfall,
continuing till morning. “Even the climate of East Tennessee seems to
grudge us our departure, and to place all its impeding powers in the
way of our passage homeward,” says an officer of the regiment in his
diary, under this date.
March 23. The balance of the corps came up, and the march over the
Cumberland Mountains was begun. From this time till the 27th, the
troops were passing along over the mountain roads. On the 24th, the
regiment camped at “Chitwoods.” It snowed all night, and the men slept
upon the ground. On the 25th, the regiment marched all day, from early
morning till late evening, in a hard rain-storm, and lay down upon the
cold wet earth at night. The roads were in a most shocking condition;
so bad that the officers were obliged to dismount. The rain gave birth
to innumerable torrents, which, rushing down the mountain-sides, plowed
open great furrows in the road-bed, in some instances so wide that they
could only be crossed by bridging. On the 27th, the troops reached
Point Isabel, in the mountains, where there was a camp called “Camp
Burnside.” The sutler stationed at this place, hoping to make a fortune
in a day, very imprudently trebled the price of his goods. A murmur
of disapproval arose among the men, which resulted in the whole of
Ferrero’s division turning out and sacking the greedy trader’s booth,
and making among them a distribution of his goods. There was a sort
of wild justice about this performance, that so far commended itself
to the officers of the corps, that the men were not interfered with
or punished. At noon of this day, the regiment crossed the Cumberland
River on pontoons, and at night went into camp at Somerset, Ky.
March 28. The march was commenced early in the morning, a halt being
made for dinner on the same spot of ground where the regiment stopped
for the same purpose in June, 1863. At night, camped (the third time)
at Waynesborough. The men had a wet bivouac; it rained hard all night.
On the night of the 29th, the camp was formed at Hall’s Gap. A severe
snow-storm set in as the sun went down, and continued all night,
rendering the condition of the “boys” intensely miserable.
March 30. Marched through Stanford, and halted for dinner at Lancaster.
The roads were covered with snow, and the weather was very cold. Went
into camp about three miles from Camp Dick Robinson. The camp was made
on the farm of an eccentric character, named Robert L. Route. He was
the owner of a large plantation, and was in that region a sort of “land
king,”--a man to whom the neighboring people always went for advice,
and whose word was law; there were many such throughout the South.
Route kindly invited the brigade commander and staff to spend the night
at his house, a genuine country palace, where they were hospitably
treated. During the night, some of the men very thoughtlessly cut down
one of his fine black locust-trees. “When the old planter discovered
the mischief, the next morning, he became exceedingly angry; but
instead of going to the officers and making known his grievance, he
knelt down under the windows of their bedroom, and in their hearing,
invoked, in a long prayer, upon the heads of the soldiers who destroyed
his locust-tree, the Divine wrath,--prayed that they might be suddenly
removed from the earth, and consigned to the torments of the damned.
The officers feared an unpleasant reception at the breakfast table that
morning; but Mr. Route’s hospitality was superior to his passions, and
as though nothing of an unpleasant nature had happened, greeted them
courteously.
After supper (the night before), Route brought in his little son, a
youth of some nine or ten summers, whom he introduced to the officers
as Robert L. Route, Jr., and standing him upon the table, made the
following exhibition of his precocity: “Robert, my son, who was the
greatest man that ever lived?” “Jesus Christ,” said the youth. “Right,
my son; who is the next greatest man that ever lived?” “Abraham
Lincoln,” was the answer. “Right, my son; and who is the next?” “Robert
L. Route, my father,” answered the boy, with increased assurance.
“Right, my son; and, gentlemen, isn’t this a boy to be proud of?” said
the delighted parent. The officers increased the father’s happiness by
saying that they thought the boy a very remarkable one indeed, and that
his high estimation of his father’s worth was well grounded.
March 31. The regiment arrived at Camp Nelson at noon. Here four days’
rations were distributed among the men of the Brigade, after which it
moved to Nicholasville, and took the cars for Cincinnati.
April 1. The Brigade arrived at Covington (opposite Cincinnati), and
Major Chipman had orders to proceed with the regiment to Cincinnati.
Crossed the Ohio to the city, and took up quarters in the Sixth Street
barracks. Colonel Barnes gave up his command of the Brigade and joined
his regiment. Colonel Pierce, who had been in Massachusetts for several
weeks prior to this, upon learning of the arrival of the regiment at
Cincinnati, came to that city on the 3d of April, assumed command, and
on the 7th started with the regiment for Boston, arriving there about
five o’clock on Saturday afternoon, April 9.
The regiment came home so unexpectedly, that no preparations were made
to receive it, and the men, except those who belonged in the city, went
into the barracks on Beach Street, while the officers took up their
quarters at the United States Hotel. The Boston papers of Monday the
11th of April duly noticed the arrival of the regiment, the “Journal”
devoting nearly a half-column to a description of it, the names of its
officers, an account of the battles and campaigns in which it had been
engaged, and said of it, among other pleasant things, “The Twenty-ninth
has as good a record as any in the service, and deserves a hearty
welcome.”
According to the report above alluded to, the regiment at that time
numbered one hundred and sixty-six enlisted men. On this day the
regiment was formally received by the State and city authorities.
Escorted by the Cadets, it marched through the principal streets of
the city. Dinner was served at the American House, to which all, both
men and officers, were made welcome. Governor Andrew was present at
the dinner, and made a most pleasing address. Speeches were also made
by Colonels Pierce and Barnes, and by Captains Clarke and Leach. The
command was dismissed at the close of the day, and the men, weary with
the formalities of a public reception, went to their several homes,
there to be received in a manner that more keenly touched their hearts;
for there they were to be greeted by those who loved them, had a deep
personal interest in their welfare, and who had waited and watched for
them for nearly three long, weary years.
On the evening of the 19th of April, a reception levee was given to
the members of the Bay State Guards, in the City Hall of Charlestown.
The hall was elaborately decorated for the occasion, and fine music
enlivened the guests. His Excellency Governor Andrew, and His Honor
Mayor Stone, were present, and both made speeches to the veterans,
welcoming them to their homes and the festivities of the evening. The
levee ended with dancing and a collation.
Company C of East Bridgewater was also accorded a public reception
soon after its return. The good people of Plymouth and Sandwich paid
similar honors to their returning soldiers; but there was mingled with
all these receptions and kind greetings, much that tended to repress
joy and gladness. The war-cloud still hovered over the land, darkening
every hearth and every home. Even while the furloughed soldiers were
listening to the strains of welcoming music, the booming of Grant’s
cannon in the Wilderness was heard, and the knowledge that their own
comrades, so unjustly separated from them, were fighting there, tinged
all their enjoyment with sorrow, and filled them with troublesome
apprehensions.