The Ninth New York Volunteers was organized in April, 1861, in the City
of New York. Two of its companies were extra-territorial. C was composed
of men from Hoboken and Paterson, New Jersey, and G marched into the
regimental headquarters fully organized from the town of Fort Lee in
that State. With this last named company came “Carlo,” the subject of
this sketch.
When he joined the regiment, he had passed beyond the period of
puppy-hood and was in the full flush of dogly beauty. He was large, not
very large,—would probably have turned the scales at about fifty pounds.
His build was decidedly “stocky,” and, as horsey men would say, his feet
were well under him; his chest was broad and full, back straight, color
a warm dark brindle, nose and lips very black, while he had a broad,
full forehead and a wonderful pair of large, round, soft, dark-brown
eyes. Add to this description an air of supreme, well-bred dignity, and
you have an idea of one of the noblest animals that ever lived. His
origin was obscure; one camp rumor asserted that he was born on board of
a merchant ship while his mother was making a passage from Calcutta to
New York; and another told of a beautiful mastiff living somewhere in
the State of New Jersey that had the honor of bringing him into the
world. It would be very interesting to know something of the parentage
of our hero, but, since the facts surrounding his birth are
unattainable, we must content ourselves with telling a portion of a
simple story of a good and noble life. It may be safe to assert that he
was not a native American; if he had been, he would have provided
himself with the regulation genealogical tree and family coat-of-arms.
During the first part of his term of service, Carlo was very loyal to
his Company, marched, messed, and slept with it, but he was not above
picking up, here and there, from the mess tents of the other Companies a
tid-bit, now and then, which proved acceptable to a well-appointed
digestion.
His first tour on guard was performed as a member of the detail from Co.
G, and always afterward, in the performance of that duty, he was most
faithful. No matter who else might be late, he was ever on time when the
call for guard mount was sounded, ready to go out with his own
particular squad. At first, he would march back to Company quarters with
the old detail, but, as soon as he came to realize the value and
importance of guard duty, he made up his mind that his place was at the
guard tent and on the patrol beat, where he could be of the greatest
service in watching the movements of the enemy. In the performance of
his duties as a member of the guard, he was very conscientious and ever
on the alert. No stray pig, wandering sheep, or silly calf could pass in
front of his part of the line without being investigated by him. It is
possible that his vigilance in investigating intruding meats, was
sharpened by the hope of substantial recognition in the way of a stray
rib extracted from the marauding offender whose ignorance of army
customs in time of war had brought their tender “corpuses” too near our
lines.
As a rule, Carlo, what with his guard duties and other purely routine
items, managed to dispose of the day until dress parade. At that time he
appeared at his best, and became the regimental dog. No officer or
soldier connected with the command more fully appreciated “The pomp and
circumstance of great and glorious war” than he. As the band marched out
to take position previous to playing for the Companies to assemble, he
would place himself alongside the drum-major, and, when the signal for
marching was given, would move off with stately and solemn tread, with
head well up, looking straight to the front. Upon those great occasions,
he fully realized the dignity of his position, and woe betide any
unhappy other dog that happened to get in front of the marching band.
When upon the parade field, he became, next to the Colonel, the
commanding officer, and ever regarded himself as the regulator of the
conduct of those careless and frivolous dogs, that go about the world
like the street _gamin_—having no character for respectability or
position in society to sustain.
Of those careless ne’er-do-wells the regiment had accumulated a very
large following. As a rule, they were harmless and companionable, and,
like the inevitable “befo’ de wah” Judge and Major, they were always on
hand ready for a free lunch and drink. It was only at dress parade that
they made themselves over-officious. Each Company was attended to the
parade ground by its particular family of canine companions, and, when
all of them had assembled, the second battalion of the regiment would
make itself known by a great variety of jumpings, caperings, barks of
joy, and cries of delight. To this unseasonable hilarity Carlo seriously
objected, and his demeanor plainly told the story of his disgust at the
conduct of the silly pates of his race. He usually remained a passive
observer until the exercise in the manual of arms, at which particular
period in the ceremonies, the caperings and the barkings would become
quite unendurable. Our hero would then assume the character of a
preserver of the peace. He would make for the nearest group of
revellers, and, in as many seconds, give a half a dozen or more of them
vigorous shakes, which would set them to howling, and warn the others of
the thoughtless tribe of an impending danger. Immediately the offenders
would all scamper to another part of the field, and remain quiet until
the dress parade was over. This duty was self-imposed and faithfully
performed upon many occasions. After the parade was dismissed Carlo
would march back to quarters with his own Company, where he would remain
until the last daily distribution of rations, whereupon, after having
disposed of his share, he would start out upon a tour of regimental
inspection, making friendly calls at various Company quarters and by
taps turning up at the headquarters of the guard. His duties ended for
the day, he would enjoy his well-earned rest until reveille, unless some
event of an unusual nature, occurring during the night, disturbed his
repose and demanded his attention.
During the first year of his service in the field, Carlo was very
fortunate. He had shared in all of the transportations by water, in all
the marchings, skirmishes, and battles, without receiving a scratch or
having a day’s illness. But his good fortune was soon to end, for it was
ordained that, like other brave defenders, he was to suffer in the great
cause for which all were risking their lives.
The morning of April 18, 1862, my brigade then stationed at Roanoke
Island, embarked upon the Steamer Ocean Wave for an expedition up the
Elizabeth River, the object of which was to destroy the locks of the
dismal swamp canal in order to prevent several imaginary iron-clads from
getting into Albemarle Sound, where we had assembled at that time what
was known as a “Pasteboard Fleet,” which the supposed iron-clads were to
destroy.
Among the first to embark was the ever ready and faithful Carlo, and the
next morning, when his companions disembarked near Elizabeth City, he
was one of the first to land, and, during the whole of the long and
dreary march of thirty miles to Camden Court House, lasting from three
o’clock in the morning until one in the afternoon, he was ever on the
alert, but keeping close to his regiment. The field of battle was
reached: the engagement, in which his command met with a great loss,
commenced and ended, and, when the particulars of the disaster were
inventoried, it was ascertained that a cruel Confederate bullet had
taken the rudimentary claw from Carlo’s left fore-leg. This was his
first wound, and he bore it like a hero without a whine or even a limp.
A private of Co. G, who first noticed the wound, exclaimed: “Ah, Carlo,
what a pity you are not an officer! If you were, the loss of that claw
would give you sixty days leave and a Brigadier-General’s Commission at
the end of it.” That was about the time that General’s Commissions had
become very plentiful in the Department of North Carolina.
The Command re-embarked, and reached Roanoke Island the morning after
the engagement, in time for the regulation “Hospital or Sick Call,”
which that day brought together an unusual number of patients, and among
them Carlo, who was asked to join the waiting line by one of the wounded
men. When his turn came to be inspected by the attending surgeon, he was
told to hold up the wounded leg, which he readily did, and then followed
the washing, the application of simple cerate, and the bandaging, with a
considerable show of interest and probable satisfaction. Thereafter,
there was no occasion to extend to him an invitation to attend the
Surgeon’s inspection. Each morning, as soon as the bugle call was
sounded, he would take his place in line with the other patients,
advance to his turn, and receive the usual treatment. This habit
continued until the wound was healed. Always, after this, to every
friendly greeting, he would respond by holding up the wounded leg for
inspection, and he acted as though he thought that everybody was
interested in the honorable scar that told the story of patriotic duty
faithfully performed.
Later on, for some reason known to himself, Carlo transferred his
special allegiance to Co. K, and maintained close connection with that
Company until the end of his term of service. He was regarded by its
members as a member of the Company mess, and was treated as one of them.
But, notwithstanding his special attachments, there can be no reasonable
doubt about his having considered himself a member of the regiment,
clothed with certain powers and responsibilities. At the end of his
term, he was fitted with a uniform—trousers, jacket, and fez, and, thus
apparalled, marched up Broadway, immediately behind the band. He was
soon after mustered out of the service, and received an honorable
discharge, not signed with written characters, but attested by the
good-will of every member of the regiment.
If alive to-day, he must be very old and decrepit; and I am sure that if
he is, in his honorable old age his honest traits of character have not
forsaken him. No doubt, he takes a just pride in the good service he
rendered to his country in the years of its great trials, and it is
fortunate that his having four legs has placed him beyond the temptation
to join the ranks of the Grand Army of treasury looters, who have traded
off the honorable name of soldier for that of the pensioned mercenary.