OFF FOR THE FRONT.
The next day we assembled at Fort Corcoran. The regiment had been filled
up with recruits until there were about 1,800 men on the rolls. Probably
1,500 were present for duty when we left to join the Army of the Potomac.
We were ordered to “fall in” at noon and in a few moments we marched away
with colors flying and the band playing a lively quickstep.
It was like leaving home to go away from the forts we had learned to love
so well, the huge walls of which had been cemented with the sweat from the
brows of most of the men.
The weather was fine when we started but after we had gone about two miles
one of those drenching Virginia showers overtook us and we were wet to the
skin.
It does not need to rain over fifteen minutes in Virginia to make the mud
from six to twelve inches deep, so we had to wade in the red clay mud the
other seven miles to Alexandria.
Much has been said and written about Virginia mud, but to appreciate its
sticking qualities one needs to march and lie down and sleep in it.
The boys used to wish that the editors who were writing the “On to
Richmond” editorials could be compelled to take a twenty-five mile march
in the mud loaded with a thirty or forty pound knapsack, a musket, forty
rounds of ammunition, canteen and haversack with five days’ rations.
At Alexandria we boarded an old transport and made ourselves as
comfortable as possible, lying out on the open decks in our rain-soaked
clothing. I do not know that I ever slept sounder than that night, and
when I opened my eyes in the morning found that we were at Belle Plain
landing on the Potomac, the base of supplies for Gen. Grant’s army. The
river was filled with boats of every conceivable kind waiting to discharge
their loads.
During the forenoon we went ashore and were marched up on some high ground
overlooking the river. We eyed with as much curiosity as a small boy would
his first circus two or three thousand rebel prisoners captured at
Spottsylvania.
The next morning, May 17th, 1864, we fell in bright and early, and at the
command “fours right” marched in the direction of Fredericksburg.
The day was a fearfully hot one and the dust rising in clouds filled our
mouths and nostrils, thoroughly impregnated our clothing, hair and skin,
producing intolerable thirst. At the sight of a house or brook the men
would make a break from the ranks and run for dear life to get a chance at
the water.
GOOD-BYE KNAPSACK.
My first forenoon’s struggle with a knapsack convinced me that I had got
enough of it. Selecting a shirt, towel, a pair of socks, soap and writing
portfolio I rolled them up in a blanket which I slung over my shoulder and
went it more comfortably.
Many others imitated my example and the roadside from Belle Plain to
Spottsylvania was strewn with blankets, knapsacks, overcoats, etc. We
passed through Fredericksburg about sunset and assumed that a halt would
be made near the city, but they did not halt us to even boil coffee, so we
plodded on in the darkness, nibbled our hard tack and wondered how much
that they thought we could stand.
At midnight we had caught up with Grant’s army after a march of
thirty-five miles.