THE STAY IN WASHINGTON
The stay in Washington though brief, was monotonous. Time hung heavily
on our hands. And yet, it was not devoid of incident. There is, perhaps,
little of this that is worth recounting, of those things, at least, that
appeared on the surface. Had one been able to reach the penetralia--the
inmost recesses--of official and military life, he might have brought
away with him reminiscences that would make racy reading. But this
privilege was vouchsafed to but few, and they the elect. The logic of
war is, learn to obey and ask no questions.
One thing happened which came very near breaking up my troop, and
threatened to destroy the regiment itself. It was at that time difficult
to get recruits for the regulars. Citizen-soldiers preferred the
volunteers. But it was considered important to keep the regiments in the
regular army recruited up to the minimum, at least, and an order was
issued from the War Department permitting regular officers to recruit
from the ranks of the volunteers. It was a bad order, and, as soon as
tested, was rescinded. I had the misfortune first to experience its
effects, and the good fortune to secure its abrogation.
There was in the troop a man who fancied he was slighted when the
non-commissioned officers were appointed and, always thereafter, nursed
his wrath to keep it warm. He was well-educated, but of a surly
disposition and insubordinate. He was made a corporal, but thought his
merits entitled him to something better and never got over the feeling.
Had he gone on and done his duty, like General Grant, in the station to
which he was assigned, he might have risen much higher. As it was, he
never did. This man made the discovery of the War Department order, and
soon there was a cabal which was constantly giving out that they were
independent of my authority and could shake themselves free at any
moment. At first, we did not know what this meant, but it soon leaked
out, though they intended to keep it secret. It was ascertained, not
only that they had the right to go, but that while down town on passes,
eleven men actually had enlisted in the regular army. The recruiting
officer had ordered them to report to him on a certain day which they
arranged to do, thinking that they would be sent to New York harbor, to
garrison forts and escape duty in the field.
When this became known, there was no time to be lost, and Colonel Gray
drew up a paper setting forth that if these men were allowed to go it
would be the end of all discipline in his command and asking that they
be ordered to report back for duty. He well understood the art of
putting things and the petition was brief, pointed and convincing. It
was addressed to the adjutant general of the army, but had to go through
the regular channels and, to save time, he gave me a letter directing
that I take it up in person. In two days, it had been approved by
Generals Copeland, Casey and Heintzelman,--and there was a delay of one
day at that,--due to a staff officer, who acted as a buffer at
Heintzelman's headquarters. Proceeding then at once to the adjutant
general's office, I was referred to Major Williams,[4] assistant
adjutant general, one of the most polished and courteous gentlemen it
was ever my fortune to meet. He was most gracious and kind, assured me
that the request would be granted at once, and told me to go back and
dismiss all further uneasiness about the matter. The next day, the order
was rescinded, once and for all. The eleven men were ordered to report
back for duty, and the regulars did no more recruiting in the
volunteers.
The men were ignorant of what had been done, and on the morning when
they were to leave, they called on me in a body to say good-by. One of
the number, acting as spokesman, assured me that it was on account of no
ill-will toward captain or troop that they had taken the step. It was
done because they believed it would be better for them and, as the act
was authorized, begged that I would not think hard of it, at the same
time assuring me of their lasting friendship. The speaker doubtless
voiced the honest sentiments of all, for it is probable that they
themselves had begun to suspect that they were making a mistake. In
reply, they were assured that no ill-will was harbored, unless it would
be in the "harbor" to which they were going, and they were urged to
write and let us know how they liked New York Harbor, as we would always
feel a warm interest in their welfare.
Then they started, but were halted at the "sallyport," and when they
exhibited to the officer-of-the-day their passes from the regular army
lieutenant, he presented to them the order from the adjutant general.
They came back, looking crest-fallen enough. Thinking that they had been
punished sufficiently, I assured them that if they would do their duty
like men, the matter would be forgotten.
It was a good lesson and, from that time on, no officer ever had the
honor to command men braver, more faithful, or more loyal, than were the
regular army contingent of Troop "E" Sixth Michigan cavalry. They never
had reason to regret the fate that kept them in the volunteers. Several
of them are still living and among my most devoted friends.
At some time during that winter, the Michigan men in Washington had a
banquet in one of the rooms or long hall-ways in the Capitol. It was a
fine affair. There were long tables loaded with viands and decorated
with flowers. The Michigan Senators--Chandler and J.M. Howard--and the
Members of Congress were present, and there was speech-making and
music. Among those who responded to toasts was Schuyler Colfax,
afterwards vice-president, then, I believe, Speaker of the House.
Colfax's remarks, alone, left much of an impression, but I wondered why
he was regarded as a great man. He had a pleasant, smiling face and very
white teeth, but his speech did not strike one as brilliant in any way.
The singing was led by Doctor Willard Bliss, surgeon-in-charge of Armory
Square hospital, located on Fourteenth street, opposite the then
unfinished Washington monument. Bliss went out as surgeon of the "Old
Third,"[5] had already made a place for himself as one of the leading
army surgeons, and his hospital was a model of good management. He was
at Bull Run with his regiment and it was said that he sent a telegram
from Washington to a relative in Michigan, saying: "A great battle
fought; 'Zene' (meaning his brother) 'Zene' and I are safe." The wags
were accustomed to figure out what extraordinary time he must have made
in order to reach Washington in time to send that telegram. But it was
the fashion to guy everybody who was in that battle, unless he was
either wounded or taken prisoner. Bliss, as most men are apt to do,
"went with the crowd." He remained in Washington after the war, making
much money and spending it freely, and achieved notoriety, if not fame,
through his connection with the case of President Garfield, after he was
shot by the assassin, Guiteau.
The camp on Meridian Hill was a pleasant one, and enlivened at times by
the presence of several ladies, among whom were Mrs. Gray, Mrs. Alger,
and Mrs. Sheldon, wives of the colonel, lieutenant colonel and
commissary, respectively. These ladies spent much time in camp, and when
the weather was pleasant lived in tents, which always were delightfully
homelike, and often crowded with visitors. 'Twas but a year or two since
Mrs. Alger's soldier-husband led her to the altar as a bride and they
were a handsome couple, not less popular than handsome. She was a
decided favorite in camp, winning the affections of all by her gracious
manners and kind heart, as she has done since, when presiding over her
hospitable home in Detroit or the mansion of the War Secretary in
Washington. Mrs. Sheldon, who was a niece of Dr. Willard Bliss, followed
her husband to the field and was a ministering angel to many a sick or
wounded soldier in hospital and in camp.
One day a man came to me and wanted to enlist. He said his home was in
the State of New York, but he liked the Michigan men and desired to join
them. He was a bright-looking, active young man and, as the numbers of
the troop had been somewhat reduced by sickness and death, he was
accepted and mustered in as a private. He remained with us until the
morning of the third day at Gettysburg, when, about daylight, he
gathered up a lot of canteens and went, ostensibly, to get them filled.
We never saw him again, and many times when thinking of the
circumstances, I wondered if he was a confederate spy. He was a good
soldier and did not leave to shirk danger, for he had been under fire
and demonstrated his courage. He could hardly have disappeared so
completely unless he went into the enemy's lines, and, if he did that,
must have done it purposely.[6]
There is no doubt that in the early years of the war the enemy's means
of getting information were far superior to ours and there is still less
doubt that not only the army, but Washington, and even the War
Department were filled with spies. Probably no union general ever
succeeded in outwitting these confederate emissaries so completely as
did General Sheridan. He told me in Petersburg, after the fall of
Richmond, that he had Early's spies at his headquarters in Winchester
all through the winter of 1864-65--they having come to him under the
pretense of being deserters--knowing them to be such, but pretending
that he did not distrust them, and in the spring, before the grand
forward movement, he sent them off on a false scent, with wrong
information for their chief--Early. With two of these, in order to keep
up the deception, he was obliged to send one genuine union scout, who
was arrested as a spy, in Lynchburg, and would have been hung, if the
sudden closing of hostilities had not suspended sentence. This man's
name was M.B. Medes, a trooper of the Sixth Michigan cavalry, then on
detached service as a scout at Sheridan's headquarters, and never, since
his miraculous escape, has he been able to talk about the experiences of
that last scout without a fit of nervous prostration. In a letter
written to me several years ago, he said:
"I don't know why it is, but I can never talk of my adventures and
narrow escapes while acting as scout and spy, that I do not break
down completely and shake as though I had a hard chill."