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THE
LAST CAMPAIGN
OF THE
TWENTY-SECOND REGIMENT,
N. G., S. N. Y.
JUNE AND JULY, 1863.
New York:
C. S. WESTCOTT & CO., PRINTERS,
NO. 79 JOHN STREET.
1864.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1864,
BY GEORGE W. WINGATE,
in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
THE LAST CAMPAIGN OF THE
Twenty-second Regiment N. G., S. N. Y.
On the 18th of June, 1863, it having been definitely ascertained that the
rebel horde had invaded Pennsylvania in force, the call of the President
was issued to the Empire State, and her militia, leaving everything as it
stood--their books unclosed, their ploughs in the furrow--hurried eagerly
forward in response, to unite in the defence of our sister State. All day
long blue and gray uniforms were dashing frantically backward and forward
through the streets, and in and out of the various armories of the city,
in search of essentials found missing at the last moment; and in military
circles the flurry and commotion were indescribable, particularly at the
Palace Garden in Fourteenth street, where the Twenty-second regiment
N. G., S. N. Y., assembling in great haste, were preparing to be "off to
the war" on their second campaign.
At last the manifold preparations were completed, and amid tumultuous
cheering, the fluttering of handkerchiefs, the ringing of bells, and the
thousand bewildering noises of an enthusiastic crowd, the regiment formed
and marched away--where to, none knew and none cared, so long as they were
doing their country a service.
That night was spent in the cattle-cars of the Camden and Amboy Railroad,
and the next morning found us entering the City of Brotherly Love, through
which, after being fed and washed at the immortal "Cooper Shop," we took
our way for the capital of the state, cheered on by an enthusiastic
ovation from the citizens, whose noble behavior and unstinted hospitality
to the thousands of soldiers who have passed through the city since the
beginning of the war, has obtained for Philadelphia the well-earned
reputation of being the most patriotic city in the Union.
The distance from New York to Harrisburg, I believe, may be usually
traversed in about eight hours, but (as there was a great need of men),
the regiment was kept precisely three days in cattle-cars before being
deposited at its destination, no insignificant omen of the fate that
awaited its members in the future. Finally, after an immensity of
tribulation, we got to Harrisburg, and spent the last of these three days
quietly lying alongside of Camp Curtin; this camp, so celebrated in
Pennsylvania annals, is a wide level expanse, in the vicinity of the city,
and was then crowded with the newly-raised militia, whose general
appearance and condition did not inspire us with that exalted idea of
their efficiency that the newspapers seemed to have; on the contrary, it
seemed to us, that a more indifferent, lazy, uncouth-looking set never was
seen outside of rebeldom; but as their ideas of hospitality toward us were
demonstrated in copperhead talk and chaffing us with hard names, these
views may be prejudiced. At some distance from Camp Curtin, however, were
a couple of batteries and some troops from Philadelphia, who really looked
like soldiers, and whose appearance inspired the "Yorkers" with a feeling
of respect which further acquaintance did not dispel.
But notwithstanding the society, the time hung heavy on our hands, and it
was no small relief, when, during the latter part of the afternoon, we
were sent across the Susquehanna, some of us into the fortifications, and
the others, including the Twenty-second, to camps in the different places
near the river, to protect the various approaches and fords in the
neighborhood of the city.
It was growing dusky as we arrived at our selected camp-grounds, and, as
it was a singular characteristic of the climate of Pennsylvania during our
brief sojourn, that darkness is synonymous with rain (for the sun scarcely
ever went down before the elements were imitating the movement), it
accordingly commenced to rain, and by the time it was fairly dark a heavy
storm was raging.
Fortunately, an immense empty barn was at hand, into which the regiment
wedged themselves, like sardines in a box, so tight, in fact, that those
unfortunates who happened to find themselves under a leak in the roof--and
there were many such--had to remain quiet under their douche, and take it
coolly for the whole night. The Eleventh and one or two other regiments,
being without either barn or tents, were obliged to sleep in the woods all
night without any protection whatever, and were consequently regarded as
suffering martyrs by all the rest of us, who wondered how they could
possibly have lived through it.
Little did those think who shuddered when they talked about sleeping in
the rain without cover, that in a very short time they would be doing that
very thing themselves, and come to regard it as a mere matter of course,
inconvenient to be sure, but so commonplace as to be hardly worth
mentioning.
The next morning, having pitched our tents, we entered upon the usual
routine of camp life, humdrum to the last extent. Hot as an oven, stupid
and monotonous as a prison, the first few days passed quietly enough. It
is true that the roofs and spires of the capital of Pennsylvania, which we
had come to defend, were in plain sight, but a very few visits there,
combined with the chilling reception we received in passing through it,
put an effectual quietus on our hopes of the good time that was coming.
Little bills, and big stories of little bills, for necessary purchases;
fifteen cents for a cup of (rye) coffee, and other things in proportion,
the general indifference of the inhabitants as to which side won in the
contest which was impending, and the other annoyances which have been so
fully ventilated in the New York newspapers, in a very short time
destroyed the clamor for passes, and rendered useless the complicated
system of signatures which had been devised to prevent the expected rush
for those documents.
By-and-by we were regaled by perusing in the New York papers the most
astounding accounts of the dangers of our position, and of the uprising of
Pennsylvania; unquestionably it was all true, but we hadn't seen anything
of the kind yet. Still, while laughing over much that we read, we could
not help noticing, that as time wore on, a stream of skedaddlers, small at
first, but rapidly increasing, was sweeping by the camp; and in a short
time crowds of able-bodied natives, driving their flocks and herds, and
followed by wagons heaped mountain high with their most precious household
goods, blocked up every road leading into the city, and showed that the
enemy were rapidly approaching.
Things, however, remained quiet, as far as we were concerned, but it was
only the quiet which portends the storm. A night alarm, caused by the
guard and pickets firing on spies escaping from the camp under cover of
the darkness, more spies, both male and female, in the guard-house, more
cattle, more scared natives rushing by as though a second exodus was at
hand, soon put us on the alert.
On Saturday, the 27th of June, that portion of the regiment not on picket
was hastily marched down the turnpike, and set at work throwing up a line
of rifle pits, to cover the road up which the enemy were now rapidly
advancing, report said, only four miles off; but as companies C (Capt.
Post), and G (Capt. Howland), had been previously sent some five miles
down the same road as pickets, and had not yet been driven in, we took
these figures with a slight discount. There was no question, however, but
that they were near enough, and we dug away for dear life, from eleven A.
M. to two P. M. (and the Sixty-ninth may be safely defied to produce a
bigger hole than we had finished at that time); and in consideration of
these unparalleled exertions, those in authority kindly allowed us to rest
our wearied limbs--by chopping down a good-sized forest, which interfered
with the range of the artillery.
Now, digging rifle pits in a hot sun is so very much like excavating a
sewer, that axe-work was fun itself compared with it, so the boys,
dropping their spades for axes, went to work with a _vim_, Col. Aspinwall
himself setting the example, while each company did its best to outdo the
others; and soon the big hickories, two and three feet in diameter, were
crashing in all directions, shaking the very ground with their fall. This,
by-the-by, was the "heavy cannonading at Harrisburg," which was
telegraphed on to the New York papers, where it greeted our wondering eyes
in print the next afternoon.
_Of course_ the people of the vicinity lent their experienced arms to
assist in obstructing the march of the enemy; the deputation of patriots
present, up to seven o'clock P. M., numbering precisely four (and two of
these were blacks, but none the worse choppers for that). After that
hour, through the earnest solicitations of a guard despatched by Colonel
Aspinwall, whose fixed bayonets presented an unanswerable argument, the
surrounding male population volunteered (?) their aid and axes towards the
completion of the work, while the tired troops sought their tents to
sleep.
No alarm broke the stillness of the night, and the regiment assembled the
next (Sunday) morning in front of the Colonel's tent for religious
services, feeling rather more disposed to be pious than usual, for none
knew what might occur before another day was passed.
Those services never took place. The men were assembled, the prayer-books
distributed, the Chaplain had risen and was on the point of announcing his
text, when the Colonel dashed up at full gallop, with the order--"Go back
to your company 'streets,' and strike tents at once!"
The men rushed back to their quarters, and preparations for breaking camp
went on in the greatest possible haste, in the midst of which the Chaplain
disappeared for parts unknown, and we never laid eyes on him from that day
to this.
Company D (Capt. Thornell) was here ordered down to relieve the companies
on picket, and in obedience to subsequent orders threw up a line of
rifle-pits across the road, to defend the position to which they had been
ordered; where they remained, lying on their arms, until they were called
in on the morning of the 30th.
In a few minutes the camp was struck, and we were marching off, little
thinking, as we took our leave of the pleasant spot where our nice new
tents were being loaded in wagons pressed for the occasion, of the length
of time that would elapse before our heads would get under their (or any
other) shelter again--perhaps, if we had, the leave-taking would have been
more affecting.
While one half of the remaining portion of the regiment was ordered to
hold the rifle-pits, the remainder marched to Bridgeport Station opposite
Harrisburg, and proceeded to barricade several houses commanding the
approaches to the beautiful railroad bridge erected at this point, with as
much industry as though they had not done a thing for a week. Companies A
(then commanded by Lieut. Franklin, Capt. Otis being temporarily absent)
and I (Capt. Gardiner), with beams, barrels of earth, bundles of lath,
railroad sleepers and sand-bags, by ten o'clock P. M., had converted the
engine-house in which they were stationed into a loopholed and casemated
battery to protect two pieces of the Eighth N. Y. troop, placed there to
rake the railroad. In the more laborious parts of this work, lifting
railroad sleepers and carrying sand-bags, they were assisted by a
detachment of negroes from the large body at work on the fortifications,
and it was really touching to see the patient, uncomplaining way in which
these poor men worked. All the preceding night and day with scanty
covering they had toiled, digging, carrying heavy beams and sand-bags, and
though almost wearied out, without the slightest compulsion, without the
use of a single harsh word from their overseer, they still continued. The
white volunteers from Harrisburg had long since abandoned the toilsome
work; the weary soldiers stopped at nine o'clock; but the negroes kept on.
At twelve o'clock P. M., the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh, were
cautiously awakened and marched stealthily out to cut off the enemy's
advanced guard, reported to be reconnoitring in our front. It was an
imposing sight to see the long column dimly and silently winding down the
roads and through the varying shadows of the night. Not a sound was
heard--orders were given in a whisper; and as we drew nearer the enemy's
position, the silence was so profound that the heavy breathing of the men
was distinctly audible.
After a long march, whispered orders were passed down the line, and amid a
death-like silence we halted and formed line of battle, fixing bayonets,
and freshly capping our pieces in readiness for instant service. Every eye
was strained through the darkness to discern the patrols of the enemy in
the wavering shadows of the woods and fields, and every ear was stretched
to its utmost tension to catch the expected challenge. But the silence was
unbroken, and after a few moments' halt the column proceeded, feeling
their way with the utmost caution, and expecting at every instant to hear
the volley which would announce that the advanced pickets had been
encountered; but our caution was unnecessary, the enemy had fallen back
and there was nothing to be seen.
The movement was splendidly managed, and only wanted one thing to be a
magnificent success, that was--an enemy. "As there wasn't anybody to be
captured, we could not capture anybody;" so after marching out some five
miles past the pickets, we returned without seeing anything, and at five
A. M. lay down by the railroad track to catch a few minutes' rest. Company
B (Capt. Remmey), were not allowed even this rest; but were obliged to
return to the picket station, down the New Cumberland road from which they
had been recalled to join in the expedition, and which they did not reach
until after seven o'clock.
The next day was spent in line of battle, waiting for an attack; but the
rebels kindly allowed us to rest during the day, and to "turn in" at our
usual hour at night, without molestation, for which we were exceedingly
obliged to them.
In the meantime the preparations for the defence of Harrisburg went on
with all possible speed; by this time the fortifications erected there
were quite extensive, and it is probable that their looks went far toward
dampening the ardor of the "Confeds." But it seemed to us that in the
incessant hurry and bustle that were going on around, there was a great
want of system; that there was no great mind overseeing everything, and
watching that the right man was in the right place. Much of this is
certainly unavoidable. A general cannot see everything done with his own
eyes, but still the unusual manner in which things were managed--the
rushing at a thing for half a day, then leaving that unfinished, and going
at something else; the subordinates at a loss for orders, and almost every
one doing what seemed right in his own eyes--was the subject of frequent
comment, especially among the "thinking bayonets" of the rank and file.
But in justice it must be said that their opportunities of judging were
very limited.
At about ten o'clock on the morning of the 30th of June, an order came
from the General commanding, for the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh New
York to prepare for a _two-hours'_ march, nothing to be carried but
canteens. A hasty roll of the drum, a few hurried orders from the company
officers, the line was formed, and in less than fifteen minutes the
regiments were off, leaving everything behind them. They have not got back
from that two hours' march yet!
After marching and counter-marching all over the country for some fourteen
miles, the brigade, in the afternoon, encountered the enemy near Sporting
Hill or Hampden, and quite a smart engagement ensued, the Twenty-second,
supported by some Pennsylvania cavalry (who skedaddled at the first
shell), advancing through woods and wheat-fields on the left--Co. A (Capt.
Otis), being detached as a reconnoitring party to cover that flank in the
advance--while the Thirty-seventh advanced on the right, as skirmishers,
the Philadelphia battery having the centre. At first, a portion of the
rebels, posted in one of the immense barns for which Pennsylvania is so
celebrated, was enabled to annoy the brigade considerably, wounding a
lieutenant and several others of the Thirty-seventh; but they were finally
compelled to evacuate, and in a very short time their artillery was
silenced, and they were in full retreat along the whole length of the
line. This success must be ascribed in a great measure to the gallant
conduct of the Philadelphia battery, which, as far as we were able to see,
was unquestionably the most efficient of the organizations, that the
invasion of her soil had elicited from Pennsylvania patriotism; and in the
eyes of our boys, the Philadelphians therefore stood very high.
In this affair the rebels lost some fifteen killed, and twenty or thirty
wounded (this being the account given by themselves to the farmers in the
vicinity). The Union loss was very slight, though, as usual, there were
all sorts of semi-miraculous escapes. After a short pursuit, the approach
of darkness admonished us of the necessity of caution; a halt was
therefore ordered, and in a short time orders came to go back to camp.
Full of life and spirits, although considerably exhausted by the fatigues
of the day, the brigade took up their line of march for Bridgeport. A
wagon filled with provisions, belonging to the Twenty-second, had been
sent out from the latter place to meet the column as soon as it was known
that there had been a "scrimmage," and hearing of the return of the
troops, those in charge had halted when some six miles out, and were
busily engaged in preparing supper. Orders, however, were sent forward to
repack and hurry everything back, so that the men would have supper ready
on their arrival in camp.
Supper! how the word put fresh vigor into weary limbs, and kept up the
flagging spirits. No one can know, till he has tried, what a difference it
makes in the marching powers whether, after a prolonged fast, you are
proceeding _toward_ your supper or _away_ from it.
While we were marching merrily along, suddenly the order came to _halt_!
_Rest._ And then it was discovered that, for some unknown reason, the
powers that be had decreed that the brigade should spend the night where
they were; and there, drenched with perspiration, without rubber blankets,
haversacks--anything, in the wet grass by the side of the road, in the
midst of a drizzling rain, they lay down to sleep, about as uncomfortable
as men could well be.
When the wagon came up, a little coffee and hard tack were dealt out, but
as this event did not take place till about two o'clock in the morning,
the number of those who could keep awake to wait for it was very limited.
At daylight in the morning, three crackers per man and _no_ coffee
composed a light and frugal repast, on which we started on our first long
march.
At about four A. M., the regiments were massed in column to hear a speech
from their Brigadier; but it was lamentably evident that, however skilled
in the art of war he might be, the mantle of eloquence had never fallen on
his shoulders. He stated to the men that _he_ had endured as much as they
had, slept and eaten as little; that _he_ (on horseback) didn't feel
tired, and therefore they (on foot) shouldn't; that _he_ (on horseback)
could go to Carlisle, and therefore they could.
Now as no one had objected, or in fact knew, that we were going to
Carlisle at all, this assumption that we were trying to shirk our duty, at
a time when all were flattering themselves for making extraordinary
sacrifices, did not add many to the rapidly diminishing circle of the
General's admirers.
At the time of starting, and for some time afterwards, it was supposed
that Carlisle was in possession of the rebels, and that we would have to
fight our way through. Skirmishers were therefore thrown out, and the
column, composed of one (I) company of the Twenty-second as an advanced
guard, another (B) company deployed as skirmishers, then the
Thirty-seventh and Twenty-second (Col. Roome being senior to Col.
Aspinwall) moved cautiously forward; but after going some five or six
miles the skirmishers were drawn in, information having been received from
paroled prisoners and farmers that the enemy had left the town (though
their pickets were still in the immediate vicinity), and we proceeded
without any precautions whatever.
The day was beautiful, though rapidly becoming too warm for comfort, and
the route lay through a most lovely country. Scarcely anywhere can the eye
rest on finer scenery, more beautiful fields, more comfortable houses, or
more magnificent barns (for magnificent is the only adjective applicable
to those structures) than those of southern Pennsylvania. But alas! the
houses were deserted, the farms pillaged--everything of value, everything
that could walk, or be eaten, or--stolen, was gone--swept away by the
invader, and the peaceful population driven from their homes by the
ruthless hand of war.
A few hours' marching brought us past the scene of yesterday's
"scrimmage," and enlivened by the prospect of another fight, as the
fatigue and stiffness of the previous night wore off, the echoes of song
and laughter floated down the column, taken up and re-echoed from company
to company till they died away in the distance, "and all went merry as a
marriage bell"--for a time.
The roads were good, the air pure, the halts frequent--there was nothing
to find fault with. The people, hitherto the only objectionable feature of
the country, were as kind and hospitable as we could desire; and in
Hogestown, a little village on the "pike," and all along the road,
wherever there were occupied houses, the women (and very pretty women some
of them were, too) turned out _en masse_, with trays of bread and apple
butter, and buckets of cool spring water, to help along the tired troops.
A happy contrast with the customs of the capital we had left behind us.
A regiment of Reserves, who had started fresh and well-fed from Harrisburg
that morning, and had gained on us while we were retarded by the slow
progress of the skirmishers through the tall grain and tangled wheat,
hurried up when the rumor began to spread that Carlisle was evacuated, and
in a manner displaying equal ignorance of the rules of war and politeness,
undertook to push their way through the brigade, "to get in ahead of the
Yorkers," and win the honors of the victory from those who had borne the
burden and heat of the day. In attempting this they soon found that they
had calculated without their host, and that the commanding officers of the
Twenty-second had cut their eyeteeth long before putting foot in
Pennsylvania. When they pushed up on the right, the head of the column
gently obliqued that way; if they changed around, a simple "left oblique"
rendered the movement needless; and when they attempted by high strategy
to come up on _both_ sides, the order, "_By company into line_," filled
the road from fence to fence with a solid front of men, who serenely swept
forward, refusing to budge from their path for all the "preserves" "ever
pickled."
Then, letting down the fences, they took to the fields, and attempted to
get by that way. At the sight of this a wild cry of "double quick" went up
from the rear to the front of the column, and breaking into a "double" the
brigade swept on for a mile or more, leaving their followers vanishing in
their rear, whence, either from their being exhausted, or from hearing
that the rebels had _not_ left Carlisle, they never emerged to trouble us.
We had heard, it is true, from passing buggies, and straggling squads of
paroled prisoners, that the village itself had been evacuated; but all had
united in asserting that the rebels were still very near, several stating
that they were just on the outskirts of the place. Under these
circumstances an ordinary mind would think that there was no necessity for
hurrying. The Reserves were "gone in," and if there was the least danger,
common sense required that the men should be brought into the city as
fresh as possible; but our commander did not see things in that light, and
consequently walked deliberately into a trap, which came within a hair's
breadth of proving fatal to the whole command.
The skirmishers had been called in before this, and the march had been
rapid; it now became "_forced_." That meant, in this instance, a march
pursued without regard to the health, comfort or fatigue of the troops,
against the expostulations of the surgeons; where speed is such an object
that everything must be disregarded, and well or ill, suffering or not,
the men must push on.
And we did push on, and from our halt, more than ten miles from Carlisle,
till we prepared to meet the enemy in the city, no rest was allowed. When
we arrived at Kingston, a small but patriotic village on the road, where
the women stood at their doors with piles of bread and apple butter, all
expected, as a matter of course, that we would be allowed to rest and eat
something; but notwithstanding that no rations had been received since the
morning of the previous day, (except a little bread obtained by a few of
the lucky ones at Hogestown), and although it was now noon, yet our
Brigadier refused to allow a moment's halt, and the men were compelled to
close up and march away from the food that stood ready for them. Any one
who thinks this was not a sacrifice had better try the experiment.
For a little while the march continued as usual. Thirteen miles passed; a
few quietly dropped out; all were growling, not loud but deep. Fourteen,
more vacancies--fifteen--the weather growing oppressive with the sultry
heat of mid-day. No shade, no water, no rest; no complaining now, but men
dropping out with frightful rapidity. All those who were not pure "grit"
had given in previously, and from this time every man kept up till he fell
from sheer exhaustion. On every side you would see men flush, breathe
hard, stagger to the side of the road and drop almost senseless; but still
the column went on.
At one time the entire left wing of the Thirty-seventh, on arriving at the
crest of a hill, rebelled, and halted where they stood. It would have been
well if the whole brigade had followed their example; but as the
Twenty-second pressed on, regimental pride was aroused, an officer
snatched up the colors and rushed forward, cheering on his men; and
closing up as best they could, every man, able to walk, rallied himself
once more, and pushed forward. Colonel Roome, of the Thirty-seventh, gave
out early, exhausted by illness and the fatigues of the previous day, but
followed his regiment in a wagon; and many other officers were compelled
to imitate his example. But as there were neither ambulances nor wagons,
nothing in truth for the transportation of the sick but what could be
picked up on the road, the great majority of the disabled not only here
but throughout our subsequent march, had to be left where they gave out.
We finally halted a mile from Carlisle, and formed into line of battle to
repel an attack from the rebels, then found to be in the vicinity. But in
place of the two regiments, that started eleven hundred strong, only about
three hundred men could be mustered on halting, and even these were almost
completely exhausted; while the remainder of the brigade were stretched in
groups along the roadside, striving to collect their scattered forces
sufficiently to enable them to overtake the column, and _seven men_ in the
Twenty-second reported by the surgeon as ruptured, afforded an additional
proof, if one were necessary, of the severity of the march.
The mere distance marched was not so great, as necessarily to have
produced such a result, the same troops subsequently marched much farther
without a tithe of the suffering, but it was a great mistake to compel
militia, exhausted by previous labor and privation, to undergo such an
ordeal without food or rest, and its effect on the morale and discipline
of the troops can readily be conceived by any one.
At last the march was finished, and we were at Carlisle, but so were the
rebels. For awhile there was mounting in hot haste, riders galloping back
to hurry up stragglers; and the brigade rapidly formed into line, amid
hurried consultations of field officers, muttered curses from captains
who, like Rachel, mourned for their companies "because they were not," and
the other unmistakable signs which indicate nervous anxiety at
headquarters. After an hour or so spent on tenter-hooks, somebody told
somebody something which resulted in our marching ahead, expecting to have
to fight at any moment. But no enemy exhibited himself, and passing
through the principal street of Carlisle, we raised the American flag amid
great enthusiasm.
Blessed be Carlisle--almost the only place since leaving Philadelphia
where cheering had been heard. We could not appreciate too highly the
grateful reception we met. The hurrahs of the men, the smiles and waving
handkerchiefs of the ladies, made us feel that patriotism still existed in
the state; and when the tired and hungry men were shown to a substantial
meal in the market-house, and waited on by the ladies of the village (who
utterly eclipse any seen on the route for good looks as well as
hospitality), it was unanimously resolved that "Mahomet's paradise was a
fool to Carlisle."
Having made some slight amends for their two days' fast, the Twenty-second
marched through the city (without finishing their supper), having been
ordered to support our friends, the Philadelphia battery, in a plan that
had been formed at headquarters for cutting off a rebel detachment
supposed to be around somewhere; a supposition that was strictly correct,
for a very short time showed that they were _all around_ us. On the way to
the position--refreshed and almost as good as new--uproarious cheers were
given for the ladies of Carlisle, the Thirty-seventh, Colonel Roome, for
everything, in fact, _except_ our Brigadier, whose approach, from that
time forth, was the signal for the deadest kind of silence. A slight
which, on this occasion, elicited from that neglected individual an order
forbidding "this ridiculous (?) habit of cheering." Circumstances, you
know, alter cases.
On reaching the crest of a hill, about two and a half miles south of the
village, the artillery was placed "in battery," while the Twenty-second,
now pretty well filled up by the arrival of those who had given out from
the privation and heat of the march, formed line of battle as supports,
and it may be remarked, as an instance of the pluck and the fatigue of the
men, that, though an engagement was momentarily expected, more than three
quarters of the rank and file coolly lay down in their places and went to
sleep. An hour passed, and the heavy boom of a cannon, and the explosion
of a shell, brought even the most weary to their feet. Nothing was to be
seen in front; but the thick columns of smoke ascending from Carlisle, the
bright flashes of light and the frequent reports of artillery from the
surrounding hills, showed us that the rebels had surrounded the place in
overwhelming force, and, without affording to the helpless women and
children an opportunity to escape, had commenced to shell the town.
Fortunately the moon had not yet risen, and the dusk of the evening
concealed us as we stealthily crept back. On arriving we learned that a
dash of cavalry had been made into the town, the government barracks and
the gas-house fired, and the batteries had at once opened, without further
warning. As there were inside, at that time, not more than eight hundred
men, and one battery of four guns, and the attacking force numbered four
thousand, with a much heavier force of artillery, things commenced to look
as though our present journey would be continued _via_ Richmond; but
happily our division commander, General W. F. Smith, proved himself here,
as everywhere else, fully equal to the emergency. While a portion of the
Twenty-second were deployed as skirmishers on the flanks of the town,
covered by sharpshooters, posted in the windows of the adjoining houses,
behind which the artillery were placed, the centre of the town was
protected by a force, mainly composed of the recent arrivals, concealed
behind the heavy stone wall of the village cemetery. The Thirty-seventh,
divided in like manner, were scattered around so as to make the largest
possible show--some Reserves were also there--everywhere they should not
have been--who were rushing around indiscriminately, and aggravating the
Thirty-seventh tremendously by disturbing their ranks in so doing.
For the purpose of protecting our flanks, it was found requisite that
out-lying pickets or scouts should be sent as far out to the front as they
could go, to give all the notice possible of any advance of the enemy. The
service was one of such danger, and the assurances of being "gobbled" by
the rebels so great, that the cavalry detailed for that duty refused to
perform it. Colonel Aspinwall, hearing of this, offered to supply their
places. The offer was accepted, and a detail was made from Company D, who
were stationed in the vicinity, guarding the barricade across the road.
The three men selected, at once advanced without hesitation, and spent the
whole night alone, in the extreme front, patrolling the approaches; and
performed their difficult and arduous duty in such a manner as to earn a
special compliment from Captain King of the Fourth regulars, the division
chief of artillery.
Why our friends, the enemy, did not attack and capture the whole party of
us remains a mystery to this day--but it is conjectured that some
skirmishers of the Thirty-seventh, who were captured at the commencement
of the fight, being no way daunted thereat, coolly told such huge stories
about the First Division N. Y. S. M., as to "bluff" their captors. It was
very evident, at least, that the rebels were wholly in the dark
(figuratively as well as literally) respecting the position of our forces;
and being compelled to fire at random, threw their shell around in a
manner most disagreeable to witness from our end of their cannon. After at
least two hours' rapid firing, the rebels sent in a flag of truce,
demanding the surrender of the place, very kindly allowing some fifteen
minutes for the women and children, whom they had not already killed, to
leave the town to escape the "certain destruction" which was threatened (a
la Beauregard) if the request was refused; but refused it was by Gen.
Smith, in terms more forcible than polite; so the batteries reopened.
It had now become a clear moonlight night; a portion of the artillery was
so near that the commands of the officers could be distinctly heard, and
the incessant flash and roar of the guns, the "screech" of shells flying
overhead, and the heavy jar of their explosion among the buildings in the
rear, seemed strangely inconsistent with the calm beauty of the scene. At
times it seemed doubtful whether the incessant uproar was really the
bombardment of a quiet village; for, during the momentary pauses of the
cannonade, the chirp of the katydid, and the other peaceful sounds of a
country summer night, were heard as though nature could not realize that
human beings had sought that quiet spot to destroy each other.
It must not be supposed that any such sentiment, or in fact any sentiment
whatever, was exhibited on our part; quite the contrary, for as soon as it
became evident that no immediate attack would be made, the men, whether
crouching at the house windows, or lying on their faces in the wet grass
of the cemetery, went to sleep with a unanimity charming to witness; the
heaviest shelling only eliciting a growl from some discontented private,
that "it was a blasted humbug for the rebs. to try to keep a fellar awake
in that manner;" the remark ending generally in a prolonged snore that
proved the unsuccessfulness of the attempt.
Some time before dawn, preparations were made to receive the attack, which
was expected to follow the instant that the first streak of daylight
discovered our position. Officers bustled nervously around, the sleepers
were cautiously awakened, and all stood to arms with the stern
determination to resist to the bitter end; but judge of our gratification,
when the shelling gradually ceased; and in a short time the announcement
that the rebels had retreated, gave us an opportunity to look around, and
ascertain the damages.
From the incessant uproar, the scream and report of the bursting shells,
the glare of the flames, the smashing of buildings, and the other sounds
incident to a bombardment, which had greeted our ears during the preceding
night, the general expectation in the morning was to find the town a heap
of ruins, and the great majority, both of troops and inhabitants, bleeding
in the streets.
Never was there a greater mistake. It was really wonderful to think that
so much cold iron could be fired into a place and cause so little loss of
life and limb. To be sure much property had been destroyed, any amount of
houses struck, many greatly damaged, and roofs and windows generally
looked dilapidated enough; but, as in the other bombardments of the war,
the destruction had been far from universal, and the escape of the
occupants perfectly miraculous.
The citizens, concealed in their cellars, and the soldiers lying flat
behind the cemetery walls and in the fields, had almost entirely escaped
the iron tempest; shells had gone under and over any amount of people, but
had really _hit_ very few. Some of the townspeople were hurt, but the
exact number is unknown. A few of the Reserves who were rushing around the
streets, instead of obeying orders and keeping under cover, suffered
heavily; the Thirty-seventh, always unlucky, had some hurt; while the
Twenty-second, with more than their usual good fortune, got off with one
or two slightly bruised. The rebel loss is almost unknown, but is supposed
to have been severe.
As soon as it was definitely known that the rebels had retreated, the
brigade, dispensing with the little formality of breakfast, marched to the
top of a hill, about a mile south of the town; and after forming line of
battle in an oat-field, the men, exhausted by the twenty-five miles' march
of the preceding day and the fatigue of the night, with one accord, lay
down in the blazing sun and slept till late in the afternoon.
About four o'clock some breakfast (or rather supper), in the shape of a
little pork and potatoes, was found; but just as we were getting ready to
eat, the dulcet notes of the "_assembly_" burst upon our unwilling ears,
and we had to "fall in," dinner or no dinner. Of course we obeyed; but not
relishing the idea of marching away from the only meal that had been seen
for twenty-four hours (a thing which we had been compelled to do more than
once before), a grand dash was made at the pans; and the regiment fell in
and marched off, every man with a piece of pork in one hand and a potato
in the other, eating away for dear life, and forming a _tout ensemble_ not
often equalled.
With the exception of a little picket duty, that night and the next day
were spent in camp opposite the ruined barracks, and were devoted by all
hands to the most energetic resting. To some, the day was blessed by the
receipt of their overcoats and rubber blankets. Happy few! But their joy
only made more melancholy the condition of the great majority whose
portables still remained behind, safely stowed in Harrisburg; so safely,
that as far as the owners were concerned, they might as well have been in
New York; so safely, in fact, that the owners of one half of them never
found them again. In truth, from the commencement of our "two hours" march
until we arrived in New York (just three weeks), neither officers nor
privates were ever enabled to change even their under clothing, but soaked
by day and steamed by night in the suit they wore the day they started; a
suit which, consequently, in no very long time assumed an indescribable
color and condition. Many managed, by hook or by crook, during our
subsequent marches, to beg, borrow, or "_win_," some rubber blankets; but
at least one in six were without that indispensable article, whose absence
renders camp life "a lengthened misery long drawn out," and more than one
in four were without overcoats; while plates there were none; spoons were
very scarce; and the use of such things as forks, combs, and even soap,
was utterly forgotten, nor could they be procured. Soap, for instance, we
would think could be obtained anywhere; but unfortunately the rebels
entertained a notion that if they only washed they would be clean; an idea
which any one, who ever saw them, will admit to be too preposterous to
require contradiction. But preposterous or not, they acted up to it, and
immediately on entering a place proceeded to appropriate every square inch
of soap that could be found therein; so that when we came along a few days
afterward, nothing saponaceous could be obtained for love or money, and in
consequence, the absence of that essential frequently compelled us to
imitate the habits of our "Southern brethren" much closer than was
agreeable.
Our stay in Carlisle was pleasant--_very_ pleasant--for in addition to the
hospitable treatment we received as individuals, our regiment was honored
by the presentation of a flag from the ladies of the city. But we could
not stay there always; and at reveille, on the glorious Fourth of July,
without seeing as much as a single fire-cracker, or hearing an allusion to
the American eagle, or the flag of our Union, we turned our backs on
civilization and marched for the mountains, taking a bee-line for
Gettysburg, where, although unknown to us, the greatest battle of the war
was raging. General Smith having previously detailed the Twenty-second to
remain as a guard for the city, we came very near being ingloriously left
behind; but, at the urgent request of Colonel Aspinwall, and to our own
infinite gratification, we were permitted to accompany the column to the
front.
We now formed a portion of a division commanded by Gen. W. F. Smith,
composed of that portion of the New York militia formerly stationed in the
vicinity of Harrisburg, and who had joined us at Carlisle, consisting, I
believe, of the Eighth, Eleventh, and Seventy-first regiments of New York,
the Tenth, Thirteenth, Twenty-third, Twenty-eighth, Forty-seventh,
Fifty-second, and Fifty-sixth of Brooklyn, the Seventy-fourth and
Seventy-fifth of Buffalo, and one or two others from the interior of the
state, besides two Philadelphia batteries, a few Pennsylvania troops, and
the regular cavalry from the Carlisle barracks; and from this time until
our return our adventures became identical with those of the whole
division.
The day was clear and beautiful, the roads good, and, as we reached the
mountains, the scenery became magnificent. General Smith himself directed
our progress, and everything seemed propitious. By noon we had
accomplished twelve miles almost without fatigue, and took our noonday
rest (for under an officer who understood himself, this essential was not
tabooed) in the shade of the woods which fringed one of the mountain
passes, eagerly seeking information about the battle, which we now learned
was in progress, and this time our information was from authentic sources.
About three thousand paroled prisoners (principally of the first corps of
the Army of the Potomac, captured in the first day's fight at Gettysburg,
and released on the Carlisle road, because the rebels had too much on hand
to look after prisoners), passed us during the day, in a steady stream;
and from them we learned that we were but one day's march from the
battlefield, and would probably be able to turn the scale of victory if we
arrived in time.
So eagerly were we engaged in discussing the chances of the battle, and
seeking to reconcile the different accounts we received, that no one
noticed a change in the weather, until the rapid drift of black clouds
overhead, and the dull sighing of the trees, warned us that rain was close
at hand; in the midst of hurried preparations it came--not a rain, but a
deluge. Hour after hour, in steady perpendicular sheets, the rain
descended. In vain were all the ingenious contrivances of leaves and
boughs; in five minutes overcoats were soaked; in ten, shelter tents
sheltered nothing but small lakes; in fifteen, even rubber blankets were
useless; and in less than half an hour all were united in the common
misery of a thorough ducking. In an incredibly short time, the whole scene
was changed: what was formerly the road had been converted, by a stream
from the hills, into a torrent mid-leg deep, through which the released
prisoners trudged with all the coolness of veterans; the woods,
banks--everything, was flooded with lakes and waterfalls; and in front,
bridges rendered insecure, and fords impassable, showed what old Aquarias
could do when he set fairly to work.
One or two brigades in the advance, suspecting what was coming, pushed on
and crossed the ford over Yellow Breeches creek before the worst had come;
but by the time our brigade was ready to follow their example, the creek
was no longer fordable, and we were obliged to wait some time before it
was safe to attempt to get over; and even though the men eventually
crossed, the baggage, on account of either the ford or the bridges, stayed
behind; thereby acquiring a habit of doing so, which subsequently
interfered very seriously with our comfort.
After long waiting, the waters subsided sufficiently to allow us to
proceed, and the regiment started, drenched to the skin, but glad enough
to get anywhere, if it was only away from those woods; and pushing rapidly
forward, a short march over flooded roads gullied by the rain, brought us
to what was called _the ford_.
The popular idea of a "ford" is a clear, shallow sheet of water, more or
less broad;--at least we expected to see something of the kind. The actual
ford we marched up to was a thick wood, filled with tangled thickets,
logs, and the nameless floating things of a freshet, through which a
mountain torrent, a hundred yards wide, tore and plunged like a mad thing.
An hour before it would have been madness to cross; but now, by felling a
few trees across the deepest holes, it had been made practicable, though
exceedingly difficult, to get over. With pants rolled up as high as they
could be coaxed (producing a most extraordinary appearance, as may well be
imagined) the troops--by a series of climbing over the stumps, balancing
along the slippery and unsteady logs which bridged the holes where the
current was too swift and deep to be waded, creeping gingerly with bare
legs through thorny thickets, and anon struggling waist-deep through the
turbid stream, whose rapid current was filled with floating logs, which
inflicted most grievous "wipes" on the extremities of the forders, besides
rendering it almost impossible to stand without assistance--proceeded to
cross.
Notwithstanding the unpleasantness of the operation, the frequent duckings
and the no less frequent bruises from stumps and floating timber, the
sight was so supremely ridiculous that the misery was forgotten in the
fun. Roars of laughter greeted those unfortunates--and their name was
legion--who, in their endeavor to keep piece, cartridge-box, coat-tails
and other "impedimenta" out of the water, forgot about their footing,
until they were reminded by a plunge from a slippery stump, head over ears
into the depths of the stream, that that was the first, not the last
point, to be kept in mind.