ground we had used about three months before. Those three months had
wrought great changes in our circumstances as a regiment and an army.
"We had met the enemy" and he was NOT ours. After stacking arms I
wandered around and in so doing came across a quantity of split peas,
which doubtless had been left by our army on the upward march. With
others I concluded to try a change of diet and prepare a banquet for
mastication that evening. I took enough of the peas to cook my quart cup
full, and patiently sat by the camp fire through the evening looking
after the cooking. It was quite late when they were boiled tender. I was
hungry from the waiting, they touched the spot in the way of relishing,
and, in a brief time the bottom of that old quart cup was bare. The
prevailing complaint with the men was diarrhoea, and I was one of the
prevalents, so to speak. This was not hygenic food for such a case, and,
without further words, I was not very well the remainder of the night.
The weather had been hot for that latitude. The next morning it was
like the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar--several times hotter than it had
been. I felt more like being petted by a nurse than to shoulder my traps
and tramp. I could hardly stand, but to go was a necessity. We made that
day a march of twenty miles, I think. Not being able to step out
squarely, but rather drag and shuffle along, I began to chafe badly,
which made the marching very painful. I kept up with the boys till
towards the close of day and about a mile from where camp was made, when
I grew dizzy. I saw all sorts of colors. I staggered out one side and
went down like a bundle of old clothes. I lay there in semi-consciousness,
until the rear guard came along, when I was accosted with the question,
"What are you here for?" I said I couldn't go another step. "Well, but
you must. Come, get up, or we'll prick you." I made the effort under
this pressure, and did work my way over that mile to where the regiment
had stacked arms. This was the first and only time I ever failed to be
present with the regiment when it stacked arms and I was with it.
On this occasion whiskey had been issued. The first time since it had
been given us when stationed behind the breastworks at Fair Oaks. Some
one of my friends had saved for me my ration and it was a big one. I
should think there was nearly a tumbler full of it, and it was the
rankest, rottenest whiskey I ever saw, smelled or tasted. My legs were
raw and bloody from the chafing, and I was sick all over. I divided my
whiskey into two equal parts, one half I used on the raw flesh, and it
took hold like live coals. This done I nerved myself to drink the
balance, and, by an effort, kept it down. I rolled up in my blanket,
went to sleep, and so remained till roll call next morning. When I
stirred I was somewhat sore and stiff, but was essentially well, and
made that day's march as easily as I ever did. During this day's march
we had one of the hardest showers I was ever out in. In a short time
every rag on the men was drenched. Shortly after the sun came out and
before halting the heat of the sun and bodies had dried everyone, and we
felt as though we had been washed and ironed--thoroughly laundered. This
day's march brought us to Newport News, where shipping was at anchor to
transport us somewhere.
We took a steamer which headed for the Potomac. During the time since we
left Harrison's Landing Lee had cut across the country and was making it
warm for Gen. Pope in the Shenandoah. The army of the Potomac, in place
of following in the rear of Lee, made its slow way down the peninsula,
and then shipped up the Chesapeak and Potomac, unloading at Aquia Creek,
Alexandria, etc.
On the 27th of August, at about two p. m., our steamer stopped at Aquia
Creek landing. We went ashore and marched inland some five or six miles
and went into camp. Here we heard artillery firing. No doubt from some
one of the numerous conflicts Pope was then having.
About ten p. m. orders were given to "fall in." We returned to the
Landing, took our steamer, and proceeded up the river to Alexandria.
Here we again went ashore, and were marched out to the grounds of Camp
California, the same spot we had wintered on. We remained in this camp
till about 6. p. m. of the 29th of August, when we marched and went into
camp near Arlington. Here we remained till about three p. m. next day,
when hurried orders were received to march with nothing but guns and
ammunition. Our shelter tents were left standing, and our blankets in
them, but the men had hungered and thirsted too much within the last six
months to leave haversacks and canteens. It may be that this order to
take nothing but our arms and cartridges had got distorted in
transmission from headquarters, as it would seem that no general officer
would start men out without food and water. At all events, the men knew
enough to disobey such an order.
Heavy firing was going on in the direction of Centreville, some twenty
miles away. We had not drawn shoes since setting out on the peninsula
campaign, and the soles of our shoes were worn almost through. This road
to Centreville was full of small round stones and they were hard on our
feet. We stepped out on a rapid march and made very few halts till we
were within sight of the heights of Centerville. Then the column was
halted, and the weary men lay down in the road where they were halted,
and went to sleep.
Early in the morning we were aroused and met an endless stream of men
hurrying to the rear. These were of Pope's army who the day before had
fought the battle of Second Bull Run. It has always been a mystery to me
why old Sumner and his second corps were not in the fight. Surely from
the time we landed at Aquia Creek on the 27th, there was abundant time
to have gone to Pope. In place of doing that we were lounging around for
about three precious days. Gen. Porter may have been wrongfully
convicted of disobedience to Pope's orders. Gen. Grant came to be of
that opinion, but I have never seen anything to make me doubt that the,
so to speak, McClellan officers were so disgruntled at the practical
retirement of their "beloved chief" that they gave no cordial support to
Gen. Pope. I never supposed that Edwin V. Sumner was one of them, and I
have always believed that he was ever ready TO FIGHT for the Union,
whoever commanded.
We pushed out beyond the old fortified line held by the enemy the winter
before, and there the Second corps was deployed in line of battle. This
morning there was a steady rain that drenched us. When night came there
were no blankets, and it was cold and the ground soaked. The men lay
down together as closely as they could pack themselves, but it was an
uncomfortable night. Under such hardships men become impatient and
reckless, and prefer a fight to the discomfort. We occupied this ground
next day. Towards night a very hard rain came down, which gave us
another rinsing. We moved back a piece where there were large fresh
brush piles. These we fired and, while they lasted we had comfortable
warmth. Then we lay down on the wet ground and courted sleep. About 9 p.
m. orders were passed along to get up and move. We were all night in
making a very few miles.
The next morning we learned that we were near Chantilla, where the night
before we had a brush with the enemy in which we sustained a serious
loss in the death of Gen. Philip Kearney. He was one of the men that had
won the reputation of loving the terrors of battle. He had lost an arm
in Mexico, but single handed he would go into a fight, as an eater would
go to a banquet. Kearney was a grandson of Judge Watts, who owned land
and had a house in the town of Sherburne, and, in his boyhood days,
Kearney spent some time here with his grandfather.
We lay in the vicinity of Fairfax Court House through the day. Towards
evening we marched to Hall's Hill, not far from Chain Bridge. On the way
we got a few shells from the enemy, which hastened our footsteps.
Sept. 3rd, we crossed Chain Bridge and marched about five miles to
Tanleytown, where we remained until Sept. 5th. At this place our tents,
knapsacks and blankets came to us, and were received with thanks.
Campaigning in August and September in Virginia without shelter and
blankets was a hardship. Such exposure uses up men as speedily as
fighting. While in this camp the men lived "sumptously every day." It
was but five miles from Washington, and the pie and cake vendors were
out in sufficient numbers to supply all demands.
On the 5th we were marched about nine miles and camped near Rockville, a
flourishing village in Maryland. Our company was placed on picket. The
next morning I discovered a cow near by, and persuaded her to allow me
to borrow my old quart cup full of her milk. As I drank it I vowed, if
ever I got home, I would make a specialty of drinking fresh milk as long
as I relished it.
Sept. 6th we marched beyond Rockville about six miles and formed in line
of battle. Batteries were posted and, so far as we knew, there was to be
a fight, but it blew over. Such "scares" are of frequent occurance in a
soldier's experience. We remained in this place until the 9th, then
marched about six miles and camped. After all was quiet some of my
friends went out, and late returned with a supply of potatoes and
"garden sass." On the 10th a march of four miles was made. On the 11th
five miles, and we camped at a small place called Clarksvill. Here our
company was detailed as provost guard. We remained at this place through
the day. Someone purchased or TOOK a duck. We had a most delicious meal
in the shape of a stew. Potatoes, onions and such like, were boiled with
it, until the whole substance was a tender mush. I know that after that
meal the feasters were almost too full for utterance.
At this time the little Sixty-first regiment was commanded by Colonel
Barlow and Lieut. Col. Miles. For field purposes the regiment was
divided into three companies. First, the company commanded by Capt.
Angel and Lieut. Keech, in which was my Company C. (Capt. Broady was at
this time away on sick leave.) Second company was commanded by Capt.
Walter H. Maze and the third by Capt. Geo. D. H. Watts. There were about
35 men to the company. In other words, there were but one hundred and
five muskets for all of these officers to direct. I have often remarked
on what I deemed to be a very idiotic policy pursued by the authorities
of the State of New York at this time, and I have believed that Gov.
Morgan was equally to blame with Seymour. What I refer to is this. When
troops were to be furnished by the State of New York, these governors
would, as I understand it, organize new regiments of raw men, when there
were scores of veteran organizations in the field with the rank and file
greatly depleted. The Sixty-first was not the only skeleton New York
regiment in the field. This regiment always had enough officers to have
commanded in battle five hundred men, and, by experience in battle, they
had come to know how to handle them. It would have been an immense
saving to have filled up and made these weak regiments strong by sending
to them from rendezvous camps recruits by the fifties. The new men would
have rapidly taken up and learned their duties in the field from contact
with the men who had learned what they knew from actual service. Then,
the officers in these old regiments had got weeded out. The cowards and
weaklings had, generally, been discharged, and their places filled by
SOLDIERS who had come from the ranks. I was never informed why this
common sense plan was not adopted. I imagine that the powers were not so
much for the good of the cause, as to make themselves strong politically
throughout the state from the appointment of a great number of officers.
In state politics it was as powerful as in national politics to have the
appointment of a horde of civil and military officers. If a governor was
influenced by such considerations and understood how detrimental to the
country such a course was, morally he was a traitor, and ought to
suffer the odium of treason committed. Some of the states had the wisdom
and the patriotism to adopt the plan of keeping the regiments at the
front filled up. It was a crying shame to allow Frances C. Barlow to
command a regiment carrying but a little over one hundred muskets.
Someone should have seen to it that the Sixty-first should never have
been long with less than five hundred men in the ranks.
On the tenth we marched ten miles, passing through Hyattstown. On
Saturday, the 13th, we marched through one of the finest towns I had
seen in the South--Frederick, Md. We camped on the further side of the
town. Sunday we hoped would be a day of rest. In the morning a field of
ripe potatoes was discovered close by, and notwithstanding McClellan's
savage order against taking anything, in a short time that field had
upon it, almost a man to a hill of potatoes. It did not take long to dig
that field. Our anticipations of a day of rest, with a vegetable diet,
were disappointed. The bugles sounded "Strike tents," and we were soon
on our way on the road over South Mountain.
At this time fortune favored "Little Mac." Gen. Lee's plan of campaign
fell into his hands, and he was fully informed as to the purposes of the
Confederates. Some generals would have made good use of this important
knowledge, but it did the Union commander but little good. This general
order of Lee directed one of his corps to take Harper's Ferry. I think
the common sense of most people would have said, "Now you concentrate
your army and fight and destroy Lee's two-thirds, before he can
concentrate." If that would have been good strategy, McClellan did not
use it.
We had an uphill march out of Frederick. Having gained the crest of the
first range of hills, we halted, and our regiment was deployed on a
picket line. While lying about waiting for something to turn up, we
discovered a farm house to the front, and sent several of the men to see
what could be purchased for the table. In a short time they returned
with milk and soft bread. Porter E. Whitney of my company was one of
them, and he expressed his contempt for their simplicity in not charging
more than they did for the amount furnished.
While we were preparing to cook our foraged potatoes and eat the
provision from the farm house, we noticed the movement of troops in line
of battle moving up the mountain side ahead of us. Batteries went into
position and opened fire, then our men would make a rush, and take and
hold an advance position. Then the artillery would follow, and shell the
enemy from the advanced position. We had a fair view of this battle of
South Mountain, which was regarded as a brilliant affair. It was fought
I believe, under the immediate direction of General Reno, who was here
killed. While we were thus safely viewing this battle, and watching the
potatoes boil, Lieut. Keech made a remark that amused me, and has
remained fresh in my memory. We were just ready to squat around the camp
fire and lay to, when he said, "Well boys, we'll have one more belly
full anyway." Just about as he finished that sentence, the order came
"fall in and march." I took my cup of boiled potatoes and carried them
in it until we halted at the foot of the mountain about 9 o'clock in the
evening, when I ate them in the dark, rolled up in my blanket and went
sweetly to sleep.
Monday, the 14th, we were up in good season, and started up the
mountain. We advanced in line of battle and frequently halted for the
skirmishers to advance, but we met with no opposition, and soon were on
the top of the ridge. We passed several field hospital stations, where
operations had been performed, and where had been left numerous legs and
arms that had been amputated. These sights are not refreshing to
advancing troops--they make them think too much of what is likely to
happen to any one of them. As we were about to go down the other side of
the mountain, a battery of our flying artillery went by on a canter, and
we followed after them on the "double quick." Having got down to level
ground we soon passed through Boonsborough. Our brigade was in advance
this day, and we were close on the rear of the enemy and saw the last of
him go over the hill ahead of us. At the time we did not know that we
were on the banks of the--to be--celebrated Antietam. We followed the
Boonsborough road nearly to the river. At this point the shore on our
side was lined by a ridge twenty to thirty feet in height. We turned to
the right and deployed part way down the rise of ground back from the
river. At first our light artillery took position in front of us on the
crest of the hill. By the next day these light guns were replaced by
twenty pounders. Most of the time we were in this place artillery firing
was going on between these guns and those of the enemy bearing on them.
But little damage was done to us as the shells of the enemy went over
us. About midnight of this Monday we were aroused and directed to march
with our arms, and to leave everything else but our canteens, and to be
careful to make no noise.
Lieut. Col. Nelson A. Miles commanded the expedition. We went through
the fields to the left of the Boonsborough road, then aimed for the
river. When we came to the bank which was high and steep, we worked our
way down to the level of the road, entered it and crossed the bridge,
which was a single arched stone bridge. We then carefully advanced some
distance along the road, met nothing, turned back and made our way into
camp. At the time the boys were confident the enemy had again gone on.
Tuesday, the 16th, we remained in the same place. There was much firing
by the heavy battery in front of us, which was well replied to. A rebel
shell went through the body of Col. Miles's horse. After dark we were
moved to the right and near by the ford, which we crossed the next
morning.
The morning of the 17th opened somewhat hazy. By 8 o'clock the artillery
firing was heavy and Hooker was making his attack on the right. From
where we stood we saw the effect of the artillery. Buildings were set on
fire by our shells, and the air was full from their broken fragments.
While we were in this place a rumor started down the line that we had
been detailed as body guard to McClellan. This comforting statement did
not last long, as, in a little while we were ordered to move. We forded
the river, which in places was a foot deep. On the other side we halted,
took off our shoes and stockings, wrung the loose water out of them, and
put them on again. I cannot, of course, give the direction of our march.
Col. Barlow had under his command, besides his own regiment, the
Sixty-fourth New York, which had about two hundred men--giving him a
force of about three hundred and fifty.
I remember in making our advance through the fields we came to a
depression through which the bullets were flying briskly. It was not a
wide piece and we passed it with lively steps. Now in front of us the
ground rose gradually into quite a hill, and rather to our right the
Irish brigade was deployed and was engaged. We moved up a ways and
formed in line of battle. Where I came a solitary tree was near by.
Quite a way to the front and to our left was a good sized tree heavily
leaved. Out of that tree soon came rifle shots and our men were
beginning to show wounds. Capt. Angell, who was a very good officer had
told his friends that he knew he would be killed in this fight. I was
within a few feet of him when he dropped with a bullet through his head.
Barlow called out for half a dozen good marksmen to clean out that tree.
Among the number to respond to this call was W. H. Brookins of company
G. The boys fired rapidly into the tree and in a brief time two
Confederate gentlemen dropped to the ground, whether dead or alive I do
not know, but we had no more trouble from that source.
In the meantime the fight of the Irish brigade had come to be very hot.
They were in our plain sight and we could see them drop and their line
thin out. The flags would go down but be caught up, and down again they
would go. This we saw repeated in each regiment a number of times. While
this was going on, Gen. Meagher called out to Barlow, "Colonel! For
God's sake come and help me!" Barlow replied that he was awaiting
orders, and would come to him as soon as he could. The musketry fire in
front of us had now mostly ceased, in consequence of the destruction of
the Irish brigade. Finally, orders to advance came to us, and we went
forward with a rush, Barlow in the lead, with his sword in the air. We
crossed a fence, and came up a little to the left of the ground just
occupied by the Irishmen. Our appearance renewed the fire of the enemy.
As we got a view of the situation it was seen that the rebels were in a
sunken road, having sides about four feet in height; this formed for
them a natural barricade. Barlow, with the eye of a military genius
(which he was) at once solved the problem. Instead of halting his men
where Meagher had, he rushed forward half the distance to the rebel
line, halted and at once opened fire. We were so near to the enemy,
that, when they showed their heads to fire, they were liable to be
knocked over. It did not take them long to discover this, and for the
most part, they hugged the hither bank of this sunken road. Barlow
discovered that by moving his men to the left and a little forward he
could rake the position of the Confederates. This he did, and our firing
was resumed with vigor. The result was terrible to the enemy. They could
do us little harm, and we were shooting them like sheep in a pen. If a
bullet missed the mark at the first it was liable to strike the further
bank, and angle back, and take them secondarily, so to speak. In a few
minutes white rags were hoisted along the rebel line. The officers
ordered "cease firing," but the men were slow of hearing, and it was
necessary for the officers to get in front of the men and throw up their
guns.
Finally the firing ceased, then Barlow ordered the men forward. They
advanced on a run, and when they came to the bank of the sunken road,
they jumped the rebels to the rear. Those able to move were glad to get
out of this pit of destruction. Over three hundred were taken, who were
able to march to the rear.
The dead and wounded were a horrible sight to behold. This sunken road,
named by some writers "The Bloody Lane," was a good many rods long, and,
for most of the way, there were enough dead and badly wounded to touch
one another as they lay side by side. As we found them in some cases,
they were two and three deep. Perhaps a wounded man at the bottom, and a
corpse or two piled over him. We at once took hold and straightened out
matters the best we could, and made our foes as comfortable as the means
at hand afforded--that is, we laid them so that they were only one deep,
and we gave them drink from our canteens. After some time spent in this
way, a body of the enemy was discovered deployed to our right. Barlow at
once formed the command nearly at right angles to the position we had
just held, and advanced us. We passed a fence, and soon opened fire on
this new force. In the meantime the enemy had placed a part of a battery
in position that began to rake our line with canister. Charges of this
deadly stuff went in front and in the rear of our line. Some of those
discharges, if they had happened to go a little further to the front or
the rear, would have destroyed our two little regiments. Such close
calls often happen in battle. We held our ground, and after a while the
rebels fled from the field. One of them was considerably in the rear of
his comrades and as he was exerting himself to get out of harms way, our
men concentrated a fire on him. He was on plowed ground, and we could
see the dirt fly up in front, and rear, and on each side of him as he
was legging it. He was escaping wonderfully, and I felt as though he was
entitled to succeed. I called out to our men and entreated them not to
fire at him again, but without avail. The shooting went on, and, just
before he was out of range, down he went, killed perhaps, possibly
wounded.