SCATTERING SHOTS.
“His coat was e’er so much too short,
His pants a mile too wide,
And when he marched could not keep step
However much he tried.”
THE CLOTHING.
[Illustration]
Forty-two dollars was the sum allowed by the government to clothe the
private soldier for the space of one year. The articles included in his
outfit were a cap or hat (usually the former), blouse, overcoat, dress
coat, trousers, shirts, drawers, socks, shoes, a woollen and a rubber
blanket. This was the wardrobe of the _infantry_. It should be said,
however, that many regiments never drew a dress coat after leaving
the state, the blouse serving as the substitute for that garment. The
_artillery_ and _cavalry_ had the same except that a jacket took the
place of the dress coat, boots that of shoes, and their trousers had
a _re-enforce_, that is, an extra thickness of cloth extending from
the upper part of the seat down the inside of both legs, for greater
durability in the service required of these branches in the saddle.
This outfit was not sufficient to last the year through, for various
reasons, and so the quartermaster supplied duplicates of the garments
when needed. But whatever was drawn from him beyond the amount allowed
by the government was charged to the individual, and deducted from his
pay at the end of the year. If, however, a man was so fortunate as not to
overdraw his allowance, which rarely happened, he received the balance in
cash.
The infantry made way with a large amount of clothing. Much of it was
thrown away on the march. A soldier burdened with a musket, from forty
to eighty rounds of ammunition, according to circumstances; a haversack
stuffed plump as a pillow, but not so soft, with three days rations; a
canteen of water, a woollen and rubber blanket, and a half shelter tent,
would be likely to take just what more he was obliged to. So, with the
opening of the spring campaign, away would go all extra clothing. A
choice was made between the dress coat and blouse, for one of these must
go. Then some men took their overcoat and left their blanket. In brief,
when a campaign was fairly under way the average infantryman’s wardrobe
was what he had on. Only that and nothing more. At the first start
from camp many would burden themselves with much more than the above,
but after a few miles tramp the roadside would be sprinkled with the
cast-away articles. There seemed to be a difference between Eastern and
Western troops in this respect, for reasons which I will not attempt now
to analyze, for Grant says (Memoirs, vol. ii., pp. 190-191):—
“I saw scattered along the road, from Culpeper to Germania Ford,
wagon-loads of new blankets and overcoats thrown away by the troops to
lighten their knapsacks; an improvidence I had never witnessed before.”
It was a way the Army of the Potomac had of getting into light marching
order.
When the infantry were ordered in on a charge, they always left their
knapsacks behind them, which they might or might not see again. And
whenever they were surprised and compelled to fall back hastily, they
were likely to throw aside everything that impeded their progress except
musket and ammunition. Then, in the heat of battle, again there was a
dispensing with all encumbrances that would impair their efficiency.
For these and other reasons, the governmental allowances would not have
been at all adequate to cover the losses in clothing. Recognizing this
fact, the government supplied new articles gratis for everything lost in
action, the quartermaster being required to make out a list of all such
articles, and to certify that they were so lost, before new ones could be
obtained.
[Illustration: IN HEAVY MARCHING ORDER.]
But the men who did garrison duty were not exempt from long clothing
bills more than were those who were active at the front. I have in mind
the heavy artillerymen who garrisoned the forts around Washington.
They were in receipt of visits at all hours in the day from the most
distinguished of military and civil guests, and on this account were not
only obliged to be efficient in drill but showy on parade. Hence their
clothing had always to be of the best. No patched or untidy garments were
tolerated. In the spring of 1864, twenty-four thousand of these men were
despatched as re-enforcements to the Army of the Potomac, and a fine lot
of men they were. They were soldiers, for the most part, who had enlisted
early in the war, and, having had so safe—or, as the boys used to say,
“soft”—and easy a time of it in the forts, had re-enlisted, only to be
soon relieved of garrison duty and sent to the front as infantry. But
while they were veterans in service in point of time, yet, so far as
the real hardships of war were concerned, they were simply recruits. I
shall never forget that muggy, muddy morning of the 18th of May, when,
standing by the roadside near what was known as the “Brown House,” at
Spottsylvania, I saw this fine-looking lot of soldiers go by. Their
uniforms and equipments all seemed new. Among the regiments was the First
Maine Heavy Artillery.
“What regiment is this?” was inquired at the head of the column by
bystanders.
“First Maine,” was the reply.
After the columns had marched by a while, some one would again ask what
regiment it was, only to find it still the First Maine. It numbered over
two thousand strong, and, never having lost any men in battles and hard
campaigning, its ranks were full. The strength of these regiments struck
the Army of the Potomac with surprise. A single regiment larger than one
of their own brigades!
These men had started from Washington with knapsacks that were immense in
their proportions, and had clung to them manfully the first day or two
out, but this morning in question, which was of the sultriest kind, was
taxing them beyond endurance, as they plunged along in the mire marching
up to the front; and their course could have been followed by the well
stuffed knapsacks—or “bureaus,” as some of the old vets called them—that
sprinkled the roadside. It seemed rather sad to see a man step out of the
ranks, unsling his knapsack, seat himself for a moment to overhaul its
contents, transfer to his pocket some little keepsake, then, rising, and
casting one despairing look at it, hurry on after the column. Many would
not even open their knapsacks, but, giving them a toss, would leave them
to fate, and sternly resume their march. It was the second in the list
of sacrifices that active campaigning required of them. Their first was
made in cutting loose from their comfortable quarters and accumulated
conveniences in the forts, which they had so recently left.
The knapsack, haversack, canteen, and shelter-tent, like the arms, were
government property, for which the commanding officer of a company was
responsible. At the end of a soldier’s term of service, they were to be
turned in or properly accounted for.
ARMY CATTLE.
An army officer who was reputed to have been of high and hasty temper,
who certainly seemed to have been capable of rash and inconsiderate
remarks, was once overheard to say of soldiers that they were nothing but
cattle, and deserved to be treated only as such. In the short sketch here
submitted on the subject of Army Cattle, I do not include the variety
above referred to, but rather the quadrupedal kind that furnished food
for them.
In the sketch on Army Rations I named fresh beef as one of the articles
furnished, but I gave no particulars as to just _how_ the army was
supplied with it. This I will now endeavor to do.
When there came an active demand for fresh and salt meat to feed the
soldiers and sailors, at once the price advanced, and Northern farmers
turned their attention more extensively to grazing. Of course, the great
mass of the cattle were raised in the West, but yet even rugged New
England contributed no inconsiderable quantity to swell the total. These
were sent by hundreds and thousands on rail and shipboard to the various
armies. On their arrival, they were put in a _corral_. Here they were
subject, like all supplies, to the disposition of the commissary-general
of the army, who, through his subordinates, supplied them to the various
organizations upon the presentation of a requisition, signed by the
commanding officer of a regiment or other body of troops, certifying to
the number of rations of meat required.
When the army was investing Petersburg and Richmond, the cattle were in
corral near City Point. On the 16th of September, 1864, the Rebels having
learned through their scouts that this corral was but slightly guarded,
and that by making a wide détour in the rear of our lines the chances
were good for them to add a few rations of fresh beef to the bacon and
corn-meal diet of the Rebel army, a strong force of cavalry under Wade
Hampton made the attempt, capturing twenty-five hundred beeves and four
hundred prisoners, and getting off with them before our cavalry could
intervene. The beeves were a blessing to them, far more precious and
valuable than as many Union prisoners would have been; for they already
had more prisoners than they could or would feed. As for us, I do not
remember that fresh meat was any the scarcer on account of this raid, for
the North, with its abundance, was bountifully supplying the government
with whatever was needed, and the loss of a few hundred cattle could
scarcely cause even a temporary inconvenience. Had the army been on the
march, away from its base of supplies, the loss might have been felt more
severely.
Whenever the army made a move its supply of fresh meat went along too.
Who had charge of it? Men were detailed for the business from the various
regiments, who acted both as butchers and drovers, and were excused
from all other duty. When a halt was made for the night, some of the
steers would be slaughtered, and the meat furnished to the troops upon
presentation of the proper requisitions by quartermasters. The butcher
killed his victims with a rifle. The killing was not always done at
night. It often took place in the morning or forenoon, and the men
received their rations in time to cook for dinner.
The manner in which these cattle were taken along was rather interesting.
One might very naturally suppose that they would be driven along the road
just as they are driven in any neighborhood; but such was not exactly the
case. The troops and trains must use the roads, and so the cattle must
needs travel elsewhere, which they did. Every herd had a steer that was
used both as a pack animal and a leader. As a pack animal he bore the
equipments and cooking utensils of the drovers. He was as docile as an
old cow or horse, and could be led or called fully as readily. By day he
was preceded in his lead by the herdsman in charge, on horseback, while
other herdsmen brought up the rear. It was necessary to keep the herd
along with the troops for two reasons—safety and convenience; and, as
they could not use the road, they skirted the fields and woods, only a
short remove from the highways, and picked their way as best they could.
[Illustration: LEADING THE HERD.]
By night one of the herdsmen went ahead of the herd on foot, making
a gentle hallooing sound which the sagacious steer on lead steadily
followed, and was in turn faithfully followed by the rest of the herd.
The herdsman’s course lay sometimes through the open, but often through
the woods, which made the hallooing sound necessary as a guide to keep
the herd from straying. They kept nearer the road at night than in the
day, partly for safety’s sake, and partly to take advantage of the light
from huge camp-fires which detachments of cavalry, that preceded the
army, kindled at intervals to light the way, making them nearer together
in woods and swamps than elsewhere. Even then these drovers often had
a thorny and difficult path to travel in picking their way through
underbrush and brambles.
[Illustration: THE LAST STEER.]
Such a herd got its living off the country in the summer, but not in the
winter. It was a sad sight to see these animals, which followed the army
so patiently, sacrificed one after the other until but a half-dozen were
left. When the number had been reduced to this extent, they seemed to
realize the fate in store for them, and it often took the butcher some
time before he could succeed in facing one long enough to shoot him. His
aim was at the curl of the hair between the eyes, and they would avert
their lowered heads whenever he raised his rifle, until, at last, his
quick eye brought them to the ground.
From the manner in which I have spoken of these herds, it may be inferred
that there was a common herd for the whole army; but such was not the
case. The same system prevailed here as elsewhere. For example, when the
army entered the Wilderness with three days’ rations of hard bread,
and three days’ rations of meat in their haversacks, the fresh meat to
accompany the other three days’ rations, which they had stowed in their
knapsacks, was driven along in division herds. The remainder of the meat
ration which they required to last them for the sixteen days during which
it was expected the army would be away from a base of supplies was driven
as corps herds. In addition to these there was a general or army herd to
fall back upon when necessary to supply the corps herds, but this was
always at the base of supplies. Probably from eight to ten thousand head
of cattle accompanied the army across the Rapidan, when it entered upon
the Wilderness Campaign.
THE ARMY HORSE.
I have already stated that the horse was the sole reliance of the
artillery and cavalry, and have given the reasons why the mule was a
failure in either branch. I have also stated that the mule replaced him,
for the most part, in the wagon-trains, six mules being substituted for
four horses. I did not state that in the ambulance train the horses were
retained because they were the steadier. But I wish now to refer more
particularly to their conduct in action and on duty generally.
First, then, I will come directly to the point by saying that the horse
was a hero in action. That horses under fire behaved far better than men
did under a similar exposure would naturally be expected, for men knew
what and whom to fear, whereas a horse, when hit by a bullet, if he could
get loose, was fully as likely to run towards the enemy as from him. But
not every horse would run or make a fuss when wounded. It depended partly
upon the horse and partly upon the character and location of the wound.
I have seen bullets buried in the neck or rump of steady-nerved horses
without causing them to show more than a little temporary uneasiness. The
best illustration of the fortitude of horse-flesh that I ever witnessed
occurred on the 25th of August, 1864, at Ream’s Station on the Weldon
Railroad. In this battle the fifty-seven or eight horses belonging to
my company stood out in bold relief, a sightly target for the bullets
of Rebel sharpshooters, who, from a woods and cornfield in our front,
improved their opportunity to the full. Their object was to kill off our
horses, and then, by charging, take the guns, if possible.
[Illustration: GENERAL HANCOCK AT REAM’S STATION, VA., AUGUST 25, 1864.]
It was painfully interesting to note the manner in which our brave
limber-horses—those which drew the guns—succumbed to the bullets of
the enemy. They stood harnessed in teams of six. A peculiar dull thud
indicated that the bullet had penetrated some fleshy part of the animal,
sounding much as a pebble does when thrown into the mud. The result of
such wounds was to make the horse start for a moment or so, but finally
he would settle down as if it was something to be endured without making
a fuss, and thus he would remain until struck again. I remember having
had my eye on one horse at the very moment when a bullet entered his
neck, but the wound had no other effect upon him than to make him shake
his head as if pestered by a fly. Some of the horses would go down when
hit by the first bullet and after lying quiet awhile would struggle to
their feet again only to receive additional wounds. Just before the
close of this battle, while our gallant General Hancock was riding along
endeavoring by his own personal fearlessness to rally his retreating
troops, his horse received a bullet in the neck, from the effects of
which he fell forward, dismounting the general, and appearing as if dead.
Believing such to be the case, Hancock mounted another horse; but within
five minutes the fallen brute arose, shook himself, was at once remounted
by the general, and survived the war many years.
When a bullet struck the bone of a horse’s leg in the lower part, it made
a hollow snapping sound and took him off his feet. I saw one pole-horse
shot thus, fracturing the bone. Down he went at once, but all encumbered
as he was with harness and limber, he soon scrambled up and stood on
three legs until a bullet hit him vitally. It seemed sad to see a single
horse left standing, with his five companions all lying dead or dying
around him, himself the object of a concentrated fire until the fatal
shot finally laid him low. I saw one such brute struck by the seventh
bullet before he fell for the last time. Several received as many as five
bullets, and it was thought by some that they would average that number
apiece. They were certainly very thoroughly riddled, and long before the
serious fighting of the day occurred but two of the thirty-one nearest
the enemy remained standing. These two had been struck but not vitally,
and survived some time longer. We took but four of our fifty-seven horses
from that ill-starred fray.
[Illustration: REAL “HORSE SENSE.”]
But, aside from their wonderful _heroism_,—for I can find no better
name for it,—they exhibited in many ways that sagacity for which the
animal is famous. I have already referred to the readiness with which
they responded to many of the bugle-calls used on drill. In the cavalry
service they knew their places as well as did their riders, and it was a
frequent occurrence to see a horse, when his rider had been dismounted
by some means, resume his place in line or column without him, seemingly
not wishing to be left behind. This quality was often illustrated when a
poor, crippled, or generally used-up beast, which had been turned out to
die, would attempt to hobble along in his misery and join a column as it
passed.
Captain W. S. Davis, a member of General Griffin’s staff of the Fifth
Corps, rode a horse which had the very singular but horse-sensible
habit of sitting down on his haunches, like a dog, after his rider had
dismounted. One morning he was missing, and nothing was seen of him for
months; but one night, after the corps had encamped, some of the men,
who knew the horse, in looking off towards the horizon, saw against the
sky a silhouette of a horse sitting down. It was at once declared to be
the missing brute, and Captain Davis, on being informed, recovered his
eccentric but highly prized animal.
[Illustration]