THE ORGANIZATION AND MAKE-UP OF THE FIGHTING MACHINE CALLED "THE ARMY."
We remained a day in bivouac after joining the Gibraltar brigade at
Rockville, during which rations of fresh beef, salt pork, and "hardtack"
(the boys' nickname for hard bread) were issued to the army, also
ammunition.
The method of issuing rations was as follows: Colonels of regiments were
directed to send in requisitions for so many days' rations, depending on
the movements on hand, of hard bread and pork, and usually one day's
rations of fresh beef. At brigade head-quarters these requisitions were
consolidated, making the brigade requisition, and forwarded to division
head-quarters. Here they were again consolidated into a division
requisition, and so on until the army head-quarters was reached. Then
the corps commissary received in bulk enough for his corps, and
distributed it to the divisions in bulk, thence to brigades in bulk,
thence to regiments, and finally from the regiment to the companies, and
to the men. A long string of red tape, surely; and it might have been
considerably shortened to the advantage of all, as it was later on.
[Illustration: REV. A. H. SCHOONMAKER CHAPLAIN]
[Illustration: J. W. ANAWALT MAJOR AND SURGEON]
[Illustration: G. K. THOMPSON FIRST LIEUT. AND ASS'T SURGEON]
An interesting feature of the issue of rations was the method of
supplying the fresh beef. Live cattle were driven to the army and issued
alive to the several corps, from which details were made of men who
had been butchers, who killed and dressed the beef. The animals were
driven into an enclosure and expert marksmen shot them down as wanted.
This seemed cruel work, but it was well done; the animal being hit
usually at the base of its horns, death was instantaneous. This fresh
meat, which we got but seldom after the march began, was cooked and
eaten the day it was issued. Enough for one day was all that was issued
at a time, and this, after the non-eatable portions had been eliminated,
did not overburden the men.
The hard bread was a square cracker about the size of an ordinary soda
cracker, only thicker, and very hard and dry. It was supposed to be of
the same quality as sea biscuit or pilot bread, but I never saw any
equal to that article. The salt pork was usually good for pork, but it
was a great trial to us all to come down to camp fare, "hardtack and
pork." Sometimes the "hardtack" was very old and poor. I have seen many
a one placed in the palm of the hand, a smart blow, a puff of breath,
and mirabile! a handful of "squirmers"--the boys' illustration of a
"full hand." It came to be the rule to eat in daylight for protection
against the unknown quantity in the hardtack. If we had to eat in the
dark, after a prolonged march, our protection then lay in breaking our
cracker into a cup of boiling coffee, stir it well and then flow enough
of the coffee over to carry off most of the strangers and take the
balance on faith.
On the march each man carried his own rations in haversacks. These were
made of canvas and contained pockets for salt, sugar and coffee, besides
room for about two days' rations of hard bread and pork. Sometimes
five, six, and seven days' rations were issued, then the balance had to
be stowed away in knapsacks and pockets of the clothing. When, as was
usual in the latter cases, there was also issued sixty to one hundred
rounds of ammunition, the man became a veritable pack-mule.
For the first month many of our men went hungry. Having enormous
appetites consequent upon this new and most strenuous mode of life, they
would eat their five days' supply in two or three, and then have to
"skirmish" or go hungry until the next supply was issued. Most, however,
soon learned the necessity as well as the benefit of restricting their
appetites to the supply. But there were always some improvident ones,
who never had a supply ahead, but were always in straights for grub.
They were ready to black boots, clean guns, in fact, do any sort of
menial work for their comrades for a snack to eat. Their improvidence
made them the drudges of the company.
Whatever may be said about other portions of the rations, the coffee was
always good. I never saw any poor coffee, and it was a blessing it was
so, for it became the soldiers' solace and stay, in camp, on picket and
on the march. Tired, footsore, and dusty from the march, or wet and cold
on picket, or homesick and shivering in camp, there were rest and
comfort and new life in a cup of hot coffee. We could not always have it
on picket nor on the march. To make a cup of coffee two things were
necessary besides the coffee, namely, water and fire, both frequently
very difficult to obtain. On picket water was generally plentiful, but
in the immediate presence of the enemy, fire was forbidden, for obvious
reasons. On the march both were usually scarce, as I shall show later
on. How was our coffee made? Each man was provided with a pint tin cup.
As much coffee as could comfortably be lifted from the haversack by the
thumb and two fingers--depending somewhat on the supply--was placed in
the cup, which was filled about three-fourths full of water, to leave
room for boiling. It was then placed upon some live coals and brought to
a boil, being well stirred in the meantime to get the strength of the
coffee. A little cold water was then added to settle it. Eggs, gelatin,
or other notions of civilization, for settling, were studiously (?)
omitted. Sometimes sugar was added, but most of the men, especially the
old vets, took it straight. It was astonishing how many of the "wrinkles
of grim visaged war" were temporarily smoothed out by a cup of coffee.
This was the mainstay of our meals on the march, a cup of coffee and a
thin slice of raw pork between two hardtacks frequently constituting a
meal. Extras fell in the way once in a while. Chickens have been known
to stray into camp, the result of a night's foraging.
Among the early experiences of our boys was an incident related to me by
the "boy" who was "it." He said he had a mighty narrow escape last
night.
I asked, "How was that?"
"Out hunting for chickens, struck a farmhouse, got a nice string, and
was sneaking my way out. Dark as tar. Ran up against man, who grabbed me
by the collar, and demanded 'what are you doing here?' I was mum as an
owl. He marched me out where there was a flickering light, and sure as
blazes it was old General Kimball. I didn't know that house was brigade
head-quarters.
"'What regiment do you belong to?'
"'Dunno.'
"'You've heard about the orders against marauding, eh?'
"'Dunno.'
"'Hand up those chickens, you rascal.'
"I handed them out from behind my shaking legs.
"'How many have you got?'
"'Dunno'--I had two pair of nice ones. The old man took out his knife
and slowly cut out one pair, looking savagely at me all the time.
"'There! You get back to camp as quick as your legs will carry you, and
if I ever get my hands on you again you'll remember it.'" He said he
thought he'd try and forage away from head-quarters next time. General
Kimball was a rigid disciplinarian, but withal a very kind-hearted man.
He no doubt paid for those chickens rather than have one of his boys
suffer for his foraging escapade. Perhaps I ought to say a word about
these foraging expeditions to eke out the boys' larder. These men were
not thieves in any sense and very few attempted this dubious method, but
the temptation was almost beyond the power of resistance. The best way
to test this temptation is to diet yourself on "hardtack" and pork for
just about one week. Then the devil's argument--always present--was
practically true there, "the chickens will be taken (not stolen) by some
of the army, and you might as well have one as anybody."
The following story of a neighboring regiment will show that even
officers high in rank sometimes found that "circumstances alter cases."
The troops were nearing bivouac at the close of the day, and, as usual,
the colonel ordered the music to start up and the men to fall into step
and approach camp in order (the march is usually in route step,--_i.e._,
every man marches and carries his gun as he pleases). The fifes and the
snare-drums promptly obeyed, but the big bass drum was silent. The men
fell into cadence step in fine shape, including the bass drummer, but
his big shell gave forth no sound. The colonel called out, "What's the
matter with the bass drum?" Still no response. A second ejaculation from
head-quarters, a little more emphatic, fared no better. Patience now
exhausted, the colonel yelled, "What in h----l's the matter, I say,
with----" when a sotto voice reached his ear, with "Colonel, colonel,
he's got a pair of chickens in his drum, and one is for you." "Well, if
the poor fellow is sick, let him fall out."
A little explanation now about how the army is organized will probably
make my story clearer. That an army is made of three principal arms,
viz., artillery, cavalry, and infantry, is familiar to all; that the
cavalry is mounted is also well known, but that in actual fighting they
were often dismounted and fought as infantry may not be familiar to all.
The cavalry and infantry--or foot troops--are organized practically
alike, viz., first into companies of 101 men and officers; second, into
regiments of ten companies, or less, of infantry and twelve companies,
more or less, of cavalry, two or more companies of cavalry constituting
a "squadron," and a like number of companies of infantry a "battalion;"
third, into brigades of two or more--usually four--regiments; fourth,
divisions of two or more--usually three--brigades; fifth, army corps,
any number of divisions--usually not more than three. Logically, the
rank of officers commanding these several subdivisions would be colonel,
commanding a regiment; brigadier-general, his rank being indicated by
one star, a brigade; a major-general, two stars, a division; a
lieutenant-general, three stars, an army corps; and the whole army a
general, his rank being indicated by four stars. This was carried out by
the Confederates in the organization of their armies. But not so with
ours. With few exceptions--ours being one--the brigades were commanded
by the senior colonels, and towards the end of the war this was
sometimes temporarily true of divisions; the divisions by brigadiers,
whilst we had no higher rank than that of major-general until General
Grant was made, first, lieutenant-general, and finally general.
The artillery was organized into companies commonly called batteries.
There were two branches, heavy and light artillery. The former were
organized more like infantry, marched on foot and were armed with
muskets in addition to the heavy guns they were trained to use. The
latter were used against fortifications and were rarely brought into
field work. The light artillery were mounted either on the horses or on
the gun-carriages, and, though organized into a separate corps under the
direction of the chief of artillery, were usually distributed among the
divisions, one or two batteries accompanying each division.
In addition to these chief branches of the service, there was the signal
corps, the "eyes" of the army, made up mostly of young lieutenants and
non-commissioned officers detailed from the several regiments. There
were two such officers from Scranton, namely, Lieutenant Fred. J.
Amsden, One Hundred and Thirty-sixth Pennsylvania Volunteers, and
Lieutenant Frederick Fuller, Fifty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers,
besides a number of enlisted men.
Another important branch of the service was the telegraph corps. It was
remarkable the celerity with which wires would be run along the ground
and on brush, day by day, keeping the several corps constantly in touch
with the commanding general. There were comparatively few telegraph
operators that could be detailed, and many had to be hired,--some boys
who were too young to enlist. Dr. J. Emmet O'Brien, of this city, was
one of the most efficient of the latter class.
It was Dr. O'Brien, then operating below Petersburg, who caught the
telegraphic cipher of the rebels and by tapping their wires caught many
messages which were of material assistance to General Grant in the
closing movements of the war. It was he also who in like manner caught
the movements of Jeff Davis and his cabinet in their efforts to escape,
and put General Wilson on his track, resulting in his final capture. Mr.
Richard O'Brien, the doctor's older brother, for many years
superintendent of the Western Union Telegraph lines in this end of the
State, was at that time Government Superintendent of Telegraphs, in
charge of all its telegraphic operations in Virginia and North Carolina.
He could tell many a hair-raising experience. He related to me the
following incident, which occurred during Grant's operations around
Petersburg, to illustrate the enterprise of the enemy in trying to get
our telegrams, and the necessity of sending all messages in cipher. They
never succeeded in translating the Union cipher. But one day an operator
at Washington, either too lazy or too careless to put his message in
cipher, telegraphed to the chief commissary at a place below City Point
that fifteen hundred head of beef cattle would be landed at that point
on a certain day. The message was caught by the rebels. The beef cattle
were landed on time, but in the meantime Wade Hampton had swept in with
a division of rebel cavalry and was waiting to receive the cattle. With
them were captured a handsome lot of rations and a number of prisoners,
including all of Mr. O'Brien's telegraph operators at that post. Mr.
O'Brien said he cared a good deal more about the loss of his operators
than he did for the loss of the cattle and rations, for it was very hard
to get competent operators at that time. There was at least one vacancy
at Washington following this incident.
Still another arm of the service was the pontoniers, whose duty it was
to bridge non-fordable rivers. They were armed and drilled as infantry,
but only for their own protection. Their specialty was laying and
removing pontoon bridges. A pontoon train consisted of forty to fifty
wagons, each carrying pontoon boats, with plank and stringers for
flooring and oars and anchors for placing. In laying a bridge these
boats were anchored side by side across the stream, stringers made fast
across them, and plank then placed on the stringers. Every piece was
securely keyed into place so that the bridge was wide enough and strong
enough for a battery of artillery and a column of infantry to go over at
the same time. The rapidity with which they would either lay or take up
a bridge was amazing. If undisturbed they would bridge a stream two
hundred yards wide in thirty minutes. They bridged the Rappahannock at
Fredericksburg under fire on the 12th of December, 1863, in a little
over an hour, losing heavily in the act.
Having now given some account of the organization of this great
human fighting machine, it will be proper to show how it was
handled. For this purpose there were four staff departments,
namely, the adjutant-general's, the quartermaster-general's, the
commissary-general's, and the ordnance departments. The first named was
the mouth-piece of the army. All orders were issued by and through that
officer. It was the book-keeper of the army. Each subdivision of the
army had its adjutant-general down to the office of adjutant in the
regiment, who was charged with issuing all orders, and with attending to
their execution. He was secretary, so to speak, of the commanding
officer, and his chief executive officer as well. Extraordinary
executive talent and tireless energy were required in these positions.
The adjutant must be able at all times to inform his chief of the
condition of every detail of the command whether an army corps or
regiment, exactly how many men were fit for duty, how many sick or
disabled, and just where they all are. In fact, he must be a walking
encyclopaedia of the whole command; added to this he was usually chief of
staff, and must be in the saddle superintending every movement of the
troops. Always first on duty, his work was never finished.
Two of the best adjutants-general the world has produced literally wore
themselves out in the service--Seth Williams and John B. Rawlins. The
first named was McClellan's adjutant-general, the latter was Grant's.
McClellan is credited with having organized the grand old Army of the
Potomac, the main fighting force by which the rebellion was finally
crushed. This was doubtless true, he being its first commanding officer.
But the executive ability by which that magnificent machine was
perfected was largely the work of Seth Williams, a very quiet, modest
man, but a master of the minutest details of every department and an
indefatigable worker. It was said his chief could wake him in the middle
of the night and get from his memory a correct answer as to the number
of men fit for duty in any one of the hundreds of regiments in the army,
and just where it was, and what duty it was doing. When one remembers
that this knowledge was acquired only by a daily perusal of the
consolidated reports of the various regiments, brigades, divisions, and
corps of the army, and that he could have found time for one reading
only, it will be seen how marvellous his memory was.
Rawlins was said to possess much the same quality. It may truthfully be
said that the Army of the Potomac was organized and began its remarkable
career in the life blood of Seth Williams, and it completed its work in
a blaze of glory, in the life blood of John B. Rawlins. Seth Williams
died in the service. Rawlins came home with the victorious army only to
die. A beautiful bronze equestrian statue was erected at Washington
under the influence of his beloved chief, Grant, to commemorate the
services of Rawlins. So far as I know, Seth Williams shares the fate of
most of his humbler comrades,--an unmarked grave.
I have said all orders were sent out through the adjutant-general's
office. This, of course, applies to all regular routine work only, for
during the movements of troops on campaigns and in battle orders had in
the nature of the case to be delivered verbally. For this purpose each
general had a number of aides-de-camp. In sending such orders, the
utmost courtesy was always observed. The formula was usually thus,
"General Kimball presents his compliments to Colonel Oakford and directs
that he move his regiment to such and such a point." To which Colonel
Oakford responds returning his compliments to General Kimball and says
"his order directing so and so has been received and shall be
immediately obeyed."
The quartermaster's department was charged with all matters connected
with transportation; with the supplying of clothing, canvas, and
equipage of all sorts. Both the commissary and the ordnance departments
were dependent upon the quartermaster for the transportation of their
respective stores. The wagon trains required by the Army of the Potomac
for all this service were prodigious. They were made up of four and six
mule teams with heavy "prairie schooners" or canvas-covered wagons. I
have seen two thousand of them halted for the night in a single park,
and such trains on the march six to ten miles long were not unusual. It
will readily be seen that to have them within easy reach, and prevent
their falling into the hands of an alert enemy, was a tremendous problem
in all movements of the army.
The army mule has been much caricatured, satirized, and abused, but the
soldier had no more faithful or indispensable servant than this same
patient, plodding, hard-pulling, long-eared fellow of the roomy voice
and nimble heels. The "boys" told a story which may illustrate the
mule's education. A "tenderfoot" driver had gotten his team stalled in a
mud hole, and by no amount of persuasion could he get them to budge an
inch. Helpers at the wheels and new hands on the lines were all to no
purpose. A typical army bummer had been eying the scene with
contemptuous silence. Finally he cut loose:
"Say! You 'uns dunno the mule language. Ye dunno the dilec. Let a
perfesser in there."
He was promptly given the job. He doffed cap and blouse, marched up to
those mules as if he weighed a ton and commanded the army. Clearing away
the crowd, he seized the leader's line, and distending his lungs, he
shot out in a voice that could have been heard a mile a series of
whoops, oaths, adjectives, and billingsgate that would have silenced the
proverbial London fish vender. The mules recognized the "dilec" at once,
pricked up their ears and took the load out in a jiffy.
"Ye see, gents, them ar mules is used to workin' with a perfesser."
The commissary department supplied the rations, and the ordnance
department the arms and ammunition, etc. Still another branch of the
service was the provost-marshal's department. This was the police force
of the army. It had the care and custody of all prisoners, whether those
arrested for crime, or prisoners of war--those captured from the enemy.
In the case of prisoners sentenced to death by court-martial, the
provost guard were their executioners.