incorporated with this army; for to enter it, was coming once more from
the scarcity and make-shifts of the backwoods, into the light of
civilization. We found ourselves again among newspapers, and
sutlers--people who could change a two-dollar bill and had things to sell;
where greenbacks yet served as a medium of exchange, and provision trains
were not more than two days behind time; and in our exultation, we even
began to entertain vague hopes that, in the progress of events, our
letters might be possibly forthcoming. It was now more than two weeks
since a word of news had been heard, either from home or abroad; and we
naturally were exceedingly anxious for a little information about matters
and things in general. Our ignorance was painful on almost every subject.
Vicksburg, we knew, had been captured, but this was all; and even the
battle of Gettysburg, fought right under our noses, and a common topic of
conversation, was to us "a tale untold."
On the 15th of July, our time was up, the rebels gone, and there being
nothing more that we could do, General Meade told us "he was much obliged
and we could go." So, bidding General Smith a cordial good-by, we took up
our line of march for Frederick City, _and home_; first, however, going a
long way in the wrong direction, and having to countermarch back. This was
nothing new, however, for, whether it was owing to ill luck, bad guides,
indefinite orders, or stupidity, something of the kind took place at every
movement that was ordered. The brigade never turned down a side-road, or
took an unusual direction, without a general grumble arising--"Wrong road,
of course! see if we don't have to go back in a few minutes,"--and we
generally did. In truth, we went back so often, that we began to hate the
very word "countermarch."
It is presumed that those in authority had been informed by telegraph
respecting the riots in New York; but the first that the subordinates knew
about the matter was, on obtaining, on the march, that memorable Herald,
describing how the "military fired on the _people_." If any of the editors
of that veracious journal had happened to be in our vicinity about that
period, it is more than probable that they would have been furnished with
a practical illustration of their text, for a more angry set of men than
the first division N. Y. S. M., never was seen.
It was sufficiently galling to know, that while we were away enduring all
sorts of hardships to expel the rebels from Northern soil, an infamous set
of copperheads had undertaken a counter-revolution in our very homes; and
the additional reflection of the opportunity it would give our
Pennsylvania friends to depreciate our state, lent the account an
additional sting. That day was the first, and we hope the only time in our
lives, that any one was heard to say that he felt ashamed to think that he
was born in the city of New York.
As may well be imagined, this intelligence, and the pleasing uncertainty
existing in our minds respecting the welfare of our friends and homes,
considerably accelerated our desire to get home again; and we pushed
vigorously down the Fredericksburgh pike, breathing prayers, the reverse
of benevolent, for the welfare of the rioters--until we could attend to
them in person. Under any other circumstances it would have been a
beautiful march; although oppressively hot in the early part of the day,
the weather afterward was all that could be desired. The road was wide,
smooth--tremendously hard, to be sure, for feet, as sore and badly shod as
ours, and in its windings through the passes of the South Mountain,
traversing a few more hills than were strictly agreeable--yet more
beautiful scenery than it presents to the eye of the traveler can rarely
be found.
That country is all historic ground. Those white boards on the right,
"covering many a rood," marked the last resting-places of the thousands of
unknown heroes who sealed their patriotism with their blood in the battle
of South Mountain; and all along the stone fences and among the trees on
the left, the frequent bullet-marks tell how hot the conflict raged a year
ago; for every foot of land for twenty miles around has been a
battle-ground for the contending forces.
About sun-down we arrived at Frederick City, a bustling little place, full
of soldiers, and with a large sprinkling of the fair sex, who, contrary to
the experience of last year, loyally applauded the passing troops. Many
would class it as a "one-horse town," but to us it appeared a little
paradise. It was a place where you could buy things, and although our
predecessors turned up their aristocratic noses at the food there
procurable, _our_ only grievance was that we could not get any of it.
Expecting to start directly for home, the division, without halting,
continued its march through the city to within a quarter of a mile of the
railroad depot, which, for some unknown reason, is situated about three
miles from the city, but, as usual, we were doomed to disappointment;
whether the cars were ready or not, I cannot say; but, after a long
consultation among the officers, it was settled that we could go no
further, and at about eight o'clock we went into camp; having completed a
march of over twenty-five miles since breakfast, with little or no
straggling. This, we consider, is doing pretty well for militia.
The next day we "loafed," resting under the trees and devouring the stock
in trade of the sutlers who had come down to see us, restlessly waiting
all day under orders to be ready to start at a moment's notice.
At about six P. M., the Thirty-seventh and Eleventh struck camp and
marched off for the cars, amid the cheering of the whole division; but no
orders came for us, and after waiting till half-past nine P. M., we went
to sleep. At exactly eleven o'clock an orderly dashed up: "The regiment
was to take the cars forthwith." The word passed from mouth to mouth like
lightning, and in less than no time the men were awakened, formed, and
marching off "for home."
We had to go precisely a quarter of a mile and get into the cars which had
been standing all day on the track; and how long can any outsider,
unacquainted with military manoeuvres, imagine it took to get us on
board? Not an hour, nor half an hour, but _five hours and a half_, by
the watch, elapsed from the time we started till we got into those cars;
and as it was raining in torrents all the while, it is not difficult to
imagine the benedictions that were freely bestowed on every one supposed
to be concerned in the matter. When we had gone about a hundred yards from
camp the order came to "halt." After a little time we were told to "rest."
Seeing no signs of a movement, and a heavy rain having come up, the boys
unrolled their rubber blankets, and the cooler hands wrapped themselves up
and lay down to sleep in the middle of the road, while the others took it
out in swearing. In about an hour "Fall in!" was heard. We woke up, shook
ourselves, and marched another hundred yards, where the same scene was
repeated. Marching off the third time, we turned away from the main road
and struck along the field to the depot, thinking we were off this time,
_sure_. Vain thought! When we got on the bank, overlooking the railroad
track, not a car was to be seen, and there we stood in the midst of a
drenching rain, on a slippery clay slope where it was impossible to sit
down, tired and sleepy as men could well be, for nearly two hours before
the cars, after a little eternity of backing and switching, were
pronounced ready for us. The moment the cars were reached every one threw
himself on the floor, and, in spite of wet clothes, dirty floors, and
leaky roofs, knew nothing more till daylight dawned on us entering
Baltimore.
With the mention of the word _Baltimore_, the word _breakfast_ is
intimately associated in our minds.
Oh! that first good civilized breakfast, with forks and chairs, and the
other appliances of civilized life--the pen fails in the endeavor to do
justice to that repast!
Yet in spite of the threats that were made of the quantities that would be
eaten; and although it was near one o'clock before we sat down, we were
disgusted to find our systems so disorganized by a habit of taking
breakfast late in the afternoon, and omitting the other meals altogether,
that half the things that were ordered could not be disposed of; in fact,
it was at least three days after our return to the bosom of our families,
before we could manage three regular meals a day, without feeling
uncomfortable; but this sensation soon wore off, and when it did, ample
amends were made by all, for past abstinence.
From Baltimore to New York was a short and uneventful journey, and on the
18th day of July we found ourselves swinging up Broadway, glad to be home
once more, but sorry enough to think that we were denied the pleasure of a
shot at the rioters in general, and our worthy ex-mayor in particular. And
although a long and aggravating tour of duty at home was still before us,
here ended our eventful campaign.
It has been a favorite argument against the militia organizations, to
decry them as Broadway troops, good for playing soldier, but who would be
found wanting if subjected to the stern realities of a soldier's life.
This test has now been made, and the New York militia can proudly point to
their record.
Marching one hundred and seventy miles in less than three weeks, in the
most inclement weather, through mountain passes and over abominable roads,
on ten days' rations, without a change of clothing, in expectation of an
attack at any moment (our regiment alone forming line of battle over
nineteen times), they point with pride to the thanks tendered to them by
General Meade in his official report, and claim that they have done all
that could be expected of them--if not more; and although smarting under
the usage they received from those they went to protect, they stand ready,
if an occasion of similar emergency should again arise, to meet again the
same hardships, and undergo the same labors; but the next time we hope to
be directed by generals who know _a little_ about the details of their
business, and will not have to learn at our expense.
It is an elementary maxim that soldiers will not serve with any credit
under a man they do not respect; and when they find their leaders ignorant
of the first rules of military life, obliged to ask information from
subordinates, and constantly sneered at as ignoramuses by those who _do_
know what they are about, they speedily become discontented and
suspicious, and in that condition are worse than useless.
Our Colonel and other officers had learned their duty in previous
campaigns; and by the manner in which they handled their men, and the care
with which they regarded their welfare, earned at once the gratitude and
respect of their command. And this remark is also true of such men as
Colonel Roome of the Thirty-seventh, and Colonel Maidhoff of the Eleventh.
But what would have happened to the militia generally, and to our brigade
in particular, if it had not been for their regimental officers, it is
difficult to foresee. When we think of what did take place, and what might
have taken place, the New York militia fervently pray,
"From long marches, wet weather, short commons, and militia generals, good
Lord deliver us."
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"cautionsly" corrected to "cautiously" (page 9)
"June" corrected to "July" (page 39)
"and and" corrected to "and" (page 44)