LOST COLORS RECOVERED
In addition to our heavy loss of men at Fredericksburg was the loss of
our colors, the stand whose staff had been shot away in my hand as
described in a former chapter.
It can be well understood that we felt very keenly the loss of our flag,
although we knew that it had been most honorably lost. It was known to
have been brought off the field in the night by Corporal William I. D.
Parks, Company H, one of the color-guard, who was mortally wounded, and
left by him in a church used as a temporary hospital. Corporal Parks was
removed to a hospital at Washington, where he died shortly afterwards,
and the colors mysteriously disappeared. The act of this color-bearer in
crawling off the field with his colors, wounded as he was to the death,
was a deed of heroism that has few parallels. We made every effort to
find the flag, but without success, and had concluded that it must have
been left in Fredericksburg, and so fallen into the hands of the enemy,
when a couple of weeks after the battle, on returning from a ride down
to Falmouth, I noticed a regiment of our troops having dress parade. I
rode near them, and my attention was at once attracted to the fact that
they paraded three stands of colors, a most unusual circumstance. My
suspicion was at once aroused that here were our lost colors. Riding
closer, my joy was great on recognizing our number and letters on their
bullet-and shell-tattered folds, "132 P. V." Anger immediately succeeded
my joy as I saw that our precious colors were being paraded as a sort of
trophy. This flag, under whose folds so many of our brave men had
fallen, and which had been so heroically rescued from the field,
exhibited to the army and the world as a trophy of the battle by another
regiment! It was, in effect, a public proclamation of our cowardice and
dishonor and of their prowess in possessing what we had failed to hold
and guard, our sacred colors. It stung me to the quick. I do not
remember ever to have been more beside myself with anger. It was with
difficulty that I contained myself until their ceremony was over, when I
rode up to the colonel, in the presence of all his officers, and in a
voice which must have betrayed my emotion, demanded to know why he was
parading our colors. His reply was, "Those are the colors of a d----d
runaway regiment which my men picked up on the battle-field of
Fredericksburg." My hair and whiskers were somewhat hot in color those
days, and I have not kept a record of my language to that colonel for
the next few minutes. I sincerely hope the recording angel has not.
Still, I am sure it was the explosion of a righteous indignation.
Full of wrath I galloped at topmost speed to camp and made known my
discovery to Colonel Albright. If I was "hot," what shall be said of
him? Of a fiery, mercurial disposition, his temper flew in a moment. He
mounted his horse and bade me lead him to this regiment. The brave
heralds who carried "the good news from Ghent to Aix," did not gallop
faster than did we two, and the wicked fellow who was hired to say two
dollars' worth of "words" for the Quaker did not do his work a bit more
effectively than did my brave colonel in denouncing the man who had made
that charge of cowardice against our regiment. Well, he began to hedge
immediately. He evidently saw that there was trouble ahead, and offered
to give us the colors at once, but Colonel Albright peremptorily refused
to accept them that way, and said he would demand a court of inquiry and
would require full and complete vindication, cost what it might. A court
of inquiry was at once asked for and granted. It was made up of officers
outside of our division, and was directed to investigate the loss of our
flag, and how it came into the possession of this other regiment.
Colonel Albright was a good lawyer and conducted his own case before the
court. It came out in the investigation that in making his report of the
part his regiment took in the battle of Fredericksburg this colonel had
used substantially the same language he had to me concerning how he came
into possession of the flag. Here is the paragraph referring to our
colors, taken from his report printed in the "Rebellion Records," vol.
xxi., page 275:
"I would also state that some cowardly members of a regiment unknown (?)
abandoned their colors, which were recovered by Captain Northrup, of my
regiment, and saved the disgrace of falling into the hands of the
enemy." My diary notes that I interviewed this Captain Northrup, and he
promptly stated that he took the colors from the hospital and brought
them with him when their regiment left Fredericksburg. He said he did
not know how they got into the hospital, but supposed a wounded
sergeant had left them there. He disclaimed any idea of their having
been abandoned in a cowardly manner, and could not understand why his
colonel had made such a declaration. The statement that his men rescued
them from an unknown regiment was false upon its face, for our name was
inscribed on its folds in plain letters, "132d P. V." Why he made such a
statement, and why he treated the colors as he did, I could never
understand, for had the statement been true it was outrageously
unmilitary to proclaim to the world the cowardice of one of our own
regiments. It was his duty to promptly send the colors to head-quarters,
with a statement of the facts, so that the alleged runaways could be
properly disciplined. As it was, it seemed a most contemptible effort to
secure a little cheap, unearned glory. It was heartlessly cruel and
unworthy of a brave soldier.
The result of the court of inquiry was a full and complete vindication
of our regiment, as shown by the following paragraph from an order
issued by Major-General O. O. Howard, commanding the Second Corps: "The
last color-bearer, badly wounded, left his regiment after dark, and in
the town entered a church used as a hospital, taking his colors with
him. He was carried away from this place and the colors left behind. The
very fidelity of the color-bearer holding to his colors as long as he
was conscious was the occasion of their loss to the regiment. Not only
no fault should be found with this regiment, but it should receive
unqualified commendation."
General French, commanding our division, published this order to the
division, adding the following: "As the commander of the division, and
knowing the character of the One Hundred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania
Volunteers, which has fought under my eye in two of the bloodiest
engagements of the war, and which has the highest encomiums from its
brigade commander, General Kimball, who knows what brave men are, I have
deemed it my duty to make this record to go with whatever may have
transpired in reference to this subject during my short absence." The
above paragraphs were taken from Bates's "History of Pennsylvania
Volunteers." The colors were ordered returned to us with proper military
honors. They were brought to General French's head-quarters by a
military escort from that regiment, and I had the satisfaction of
officially receiving them with a like escort from our regiment,
commanded by First Lieutenant J. D. Laciar, of Company G. The ceremony
was to us a joyous and impressive occasion. It took place in the
presence of General Alfred Sully, temporarily commanding the division,
and staff, and our brigade officers. The two escorts were drawn up,
facing each other. The order of Major-General Howard, above referred to,
was read. This was followed by a little speech from General Sully, in
which we came in for some more praise; then both escorts presented arms,
whilst their color-bearer transferred the colors to ours, and the
ceremony was over. A happier escort never marched than was ours bearing
home those restored colors.
The weather was now getting very cold, and we set about making ourselves
as comfortable as possible in camp. The men were allowed to fix up their
tents as best they could without much regard for architectural beauty
or regularity. Some of them dug cellars four to five feet deep, made
puncheon floors,--that is, floors made of split logs smoothed off and
laid the flat side up,--whilst the sides were made of logs plastered up
with mud. Mud fireplaces were made with old barrels for chimneys. The
roofs were canvas, of course, but fairly waterproof. A favorite bit of
horse-play of the men at this time was to watch when the occupants of
some tent were having a good time, and smoke them out by throwing a wet
blanket over the top of their barrel chimney. In about a second the
smoke would be almost dense enough to suffocate, and every fellow would
pile out and hunt for the culprit. Woe be unto him if they found him. A
favorite ruse on the part of the culprit was to plunge into his tent and
be placidly snoring when the victims began their hunt. Sometimes the
simulation would be too sonorous, and give him away, and then he had
trouble on hand for the next hour. The ingenuity of these sons of Belial
in their pranks was beyond description. I have laughed until absolutely
exhausted many a time. How did I know so much about them? Well, I had
two of the liveliest of these boys in my office as clerks, and, as they
were generally in the fun, I was kept posted, and to tell the truth, as
long as it did not seriously transgress, and there was fun in it, I knew
nothing about it "officially." Often have I seen these boys put up a job
on some fellow quietly sleeping, by smoking out his next-door neighbors
and then directing their attention to him as the culprit. To see him
hauled out of a sound sleep and mauled for something he was entirely
innocent of, vehemently protesting his innocence, yet the more he
protested getting the more punishment, the rascals who put up the job
doing most of the punishing, I have nearly split my sides. Of course, no
one was seriously hurt. The victim knew enough to keep his temper, and
in the end enjoyed the lark as well as the rest. I speak of these
things, for they were the oases in army life and drudgery. Except for
them it would have been unendurable. Seldom were things so bad but that
some bit of raillery would relieve the strain and get up a laugh, and
everybody would feel better.
We had a young fellow in one of the companies who was certainly the most
comical genius I ever saw. He was known by a nickname only. No length of
march and no severity of service could curb his spirits. When all were
down in the dumps this fellow would perform some monkey-shine that would
make even a horse laugh, and all would be in good spirits again. Colonel
Albright used to say he was worth his weight in gold. He was with us
until after Fredericksburg, where he was either killed or wounded, and I
do not remember to have seen him afterwards.
I have spoken of the men's winter-quarters. We officers had our wall
tents, and had them fixed up with puncheon floors also, and sheet-iron
stoves, so that as long as we kept a fire burning all were fairly
comfortable. But wood fires would last but an hour or so without
replenishing, and so during the night we had great difficulty in keeping
warm. Some of the coldest nights my clerks and myself took turns in
keeping up our fire. I rather prided myself on the construction of my
bed. It was made of two springy poles held in place by crotched sticks
driven into the ground. On the poles nailed crosswise was a bottom made
of barrel-staves, the hollow side down, and on these was laid a bed of
hay, kept in place by some old canvas sacking. On cold nights the only
article of clothing we took off was our shoes or boots. Then rolling
ourselves in our blankets, with gum blanket outside tucked well around
our feet and the whole surmounted with our overcoats, we managed to
sleep pretty well. These puncheon floors were all the proceeds of
foraging. No lumber of any kind was furnished by the government. The men
cut the trees and split the logs wherever they could find them. Most of
them were "backed" into camp anywhere from one to four miles.
After this little of note occurred in camp until Christmas. We had made
ourselves as comfortable as we could with the materials at hand, which
were not in super-abundance. The weather was what we were told was
characteristic of Virginia winters,--rather mild, slush and mud, with
its raw, disagreeable dampness, being the prevailing conditions. It was
exceedingly trying to our men, and many, in consequence, were on the
sick list. My diary notes that on Christmas day we actually had a little
sunshine, and that by way of adding good cheer to the occasion a ration
of whiskey was issued to the men. The ration consisted of a gill for
each man. Each company was marched to the commissary tent, and every man
received his gill in his cup or drank it from the measure, as he
preferred. Some of the men, who evidently were familiar with the
intricacies of repeating in ward elections, managed in various ways to
repeat their rations of this vile stuff until we had a good deal more
than a gill of whiskey's worth of hilarity in camp. However, the noise
was winked at, believing it would soon subside and pass off. All drills
were suspended and the men were allowed passes freely out of camp, being
required to be in quarters promptly at taps. The officers passed the day
visiting and exchanging the compliments of the season. The wish for a
"Merry Christmas" was about all there was to make it such. I remember
our bill of fare for Christmas dinner consisted of boiled rice and
molasses, "Lobskous" and stewed dried apples. The etymology of the
euphonious word "Lobskous" I am unable to give. The dish consisted of
hardtack broken up and thoroughly soaked in water, then fried in pork
fat. I trust my readers will preserve the recipe for a side dish next
Christmas. One of the boys, to show his appreciation of this extra fare
for Christmas dinner, improvised the following blessing:
"Good Lord of love
Look down from above
And see how a soldier's grub has mended,--
Slushed rice, Lobskous, and shoat,
Where only hardtack and hog were intended."
The day was not without its fun, however. Among other things, an
impromptu foot-race was gotten up between the Fourth New York and our
regiment. The former regiment, with which we were now brigaded, was from
New York City, and in its general make-up was decidedly "sporty." They
had in their ranks specimens of almost all kinds of sports, such as
professional boxers, wrestlers, fencers, and runners. One of the latter
had been practising in the morning, and some of our boys had remarked
that "he wasn't much of a runner," whereupon they were promptly
challenged to produce a man who could beat him, for a cash prize of
twenty dollars in gold. Win or lose, our fellows were not to be bluffed,
and so promptly accepted the challenge. Back they came to camp with
their "bluff," to look up a man to meet this professional. So far as our
men were concerned, it was another case of the Philistine defying the
armies of Israel. Where was our David? All hands entered into the fun,
from the colonel down. The race was to be a one-hundred-yard dash from a
standing mark. We found our man in Corporal Riley Tanner, of Company I.
He was a lithe, wiry fellow, a great favorite in his company, and in
some trial sprints easily showed himself superior to all of the others.
He, however, had never run a race, except in boys' play, and was not up
on the professional tactics of such a contest. It was decided that the
affair should take place at five o'clock P.M., on our regimental front,
and should decide the championship of the two regiments in this
particular. The course was duly measured and staked off, and was lined
on both sides by a solid wall of the men, nearly our whole division
being present, including most of the officers. If the championship of
the world had been at stake, there could hardly have been more
excitement, so much zest did every one put into it. On the minute the
Goliath of the bloody Fourth appeared, clad in the most approved racing
garb. He was a stockily built young Irishman, and looked decidedly
formidable, especially when our poor little David appeared a moment
later, with no other preparation than his coat and cap off and pants
rolled up. Nevertheless, our boys thoroughly believed in him, and we all
gave him a rousing cheer. The signal was given and away leaped our
little champion like a frightened deer, literally running away from the
professional from the start and beating him leisurely in the end by more
than a dozen feet. Great was the furore which followed. The victor was
carried on the shoulders of his comrades of Company I triumphantly back
to his quarters, and afterwards through all the company streets, the
victim of an immense popularity. Corporal Tanner, scarcely beyond his
teens, was a good, brave, and true young man, popular with his comrades
and faithful in all his duties. Was this little race, so short and
gloriously won, prophetic of his life's brief course? He came home to
survive but a few years, and then die of injuries received in the
service. He was as much a sacrifice upon the altar of his country as if
he had been killed in battle. He was long ago laid to rest in a
soldier's grave. But he still lives in the hearts of his comrades.
Here let me say a few words of our "friends, the enemy," we had just
beaten, the Fourth New York. Its colonel was a Scotchman named McGregor,
and he was a true McGregor, a splendid officer. He was in command of the
brigade after Colonel Andrews was wounded at Fredericksburg, until
himself disabled by a wound. His lieutenant-colonel was a captain in the
New York police force when he entered the service, and after the war as
Inspector Jameson he achieved a national reputation. He was a splendid
fellow personally, and physically a king among men. He stood six feet
two inches, beautifully proportioned, square, and straight as an Indian,
with heavy jet black hair and whiskers, and an eye that I imagine could
almost burn a hole in a culprit. He could be both majestic and
impressive when occasion required, and was more gifted in all these
things than any man I ever knew. The following incident will illustrate
his use of them. I met him in Washington whilst returning to my regiment
the day before the battle of Fredericksburg. I joined him just before
reaching the wharf where we were to take the boat. He had been up to
Washington on a day's pass, all any one could then get, and had for some
reason overstayed his leave. I think he had missed his boat the day
before. In consequence he could not get a pass through the lines to go
back. I asked how he expected to get through the provost guard. "Oh,
that's easy," he said. "Just watch me go through," and I did. There was
a double guard at the entrance to the boat and a sergeant and lieutenant
examining all passes. Jameson threw his cape over his shoulders to
conceal his shoulder-straps, put on one of his majestic airs, looked the
officer through, as much as to say, you do not presume to question my
rights here, and waved him and the guards aside, and deliberately
stalked aboard, as though he commanded the army. I came meekly along
behind, pass in hand. The officer had by that time recovered himself
sufficiently to ejaculate, "Who the h----l is that--general?" I repeated
the ejaculation to the colonel afterwards to his great amusement. He was
all right, and on his way to rejoin his regiment, where he was wounded
next day, splendidly doing his duty. Because he had overstayed his leave
twenty-four hours, red tape would have required him to remain in
Washington, submit to a court-martial or court of inquiry, and probably
after three or four weeks be sent back, duly excused, the country being
deprived of his services in the mean time.
Well, to get back to Christmas. After the foot-race the men were given
free rein until ten o'clock P.M., and passes out of camp were not
required. As the evening wore on, it became evident that John Barleycorn
had been getting in some extra work, from the character of the noise
emanating from the company streets, and I became somewhat nervous about
it. Lieutenant-Colonel Albright's tent adjoined mine, and I could see
that he was becoming a little exercised over this extra noise. The fear
was that we might get a peremptory summons from division head-quarters
to "explain immediately the causes of the unusual noises emanating from
our regiment, and why it is not suppressed." Just about ten o'clock
there was an extra outburst, and I noticed Colonel Albright, with sword
dangling, pass rapidly out of his tent and down towards the company
streets from whence the noise came. I feared trouble, and slipped on my
boots and followed as quickly as possible. But before I reached the
scene, the colonel had drawn his sword and ordered all the men to their
quarters, at the same time striking right and left with the flat of his
sword, hitting two of the men. One proved to be a sergeant who was
trying to quell the noise and get his men into quarters. The latter
resented the blow and made a sharp retort to the colonel, who
immediately repeated it, whereupon the sergeant struck him a terrible
blow in the eye with his fist, knocking him down. I got there just in
time to see the colonel fall, and immediately seized the sergeant and
placed him in arrest. He was handed over to the division provost guard.
The colonel was found to be seriously hurt. His eye swelled up and
turned black and gave him great pain all night. And it was several days
before he recovered the use of it.
The most serious thing about this unfortunate culmination of our
Christmas festivities was not only the breach of discipline, but the
present status of this sergeant. He was an exceptionally good
non-commissioned officer, with a splendid record in both battles and in
all service, yet he had now committed an offence the punishment for
which, in time of war, was death,--viz., striking his superior
commissioned officer. The next day Colonel Albright reported the affair
to General French, commanding the division, who promptly advised him to
prefer charges against the culprit and make an example of him. The
matter was generally discussed by both officers and men in camp, and
although it was felt that the sergeant had committed a grave offence,
yet that the colonel was in a measure responsible for it. The latter was
justly popular with all as a brave officer and good man, yet he had been
guilty himself of an offence which had brought upon him the blow he had
received. He had no right to strike a soldier as he did, even with the
flat of his sword. Nor was it the proper thing for him to take the place
of his "officer of the guard" or "officer of the day" in enforcing his
own orders regulating camp discipline. He should have sent for the
latter and required them to do their duty in the matter. As a matter of
fact, this was just what the officer of the day was doing when the
colonel appeared. The colonel sent for me next morning, on his return
from General French's head-quarters, and freely told me of the advice of
the latter, and indicated his purpose to proceed.
This splendid man has long since entered into rest. No truer man or
braver officer entered the service than he, and it has been one of the
greatest satisfactions of my life that I was able to possess his
confidence to the fullest degree. He invited my views now and he
afterwards thanked me for the service I then rendered him by opposing
his contemplated action. He was still suffering very much from his
injury and was in a poor mood to brook opposition. Nevertheless I felt
that if he subjected this man to the possible results of a
court-martial, later on he would never forgive himself, and I so told
him. I reminded him of the mistake he had made in assuming the duties of
his "officer of the day," and of his graver error, if not offence, in
striking the men; that such action would be very likely to produce
similar results with almost any of the men upon whom it might be
committed; that he had failed to respect the rights of his men even in
matters of discipline, and that all this being true, it would be a
mistake he would always regret if he failed to treat this affair in as
manly and generous a way as discipline would permit. It was an occasion
of keen regret that I had to differ with Colonel Albright, for I really
loved the man. He dismissed me rather cavalierly with his thanks for my
drastic frankness. By his direction a meeting of all the officers of the
regiment was summoned to meet at his head-quarters in the afternoon to
give their views as to the course to be pursued. The question, as
submitted by the colonel being one purely of discipline, seemed to admit
of but one treatment,--viz., court-martial; and this was the unanimous
sentiment as expressed in this meeting, although outside, I well knew
nearly all had expressed themselves differently. Perhaps the way the
colonel took to get their views was partly responsible for his failure
to get their real feelings. He began with the youngest lieutenant and
asked each officer up to the senior captain, what he thought the offence
merited. The answer was, "I suppose court-martial." None seemed willing
to accuse the colonel of his own error, and to have answered otherwise
would have involved that, so they simply replied as above.
The colonel said, after all had given their answers, that the adjutant
did not agree with him nor them, and called on me to state my position,
saying I was to be excused, as he supposed the sergeant was a personal
friend. Whilst it was true that I had known him at home, I disclaimed
being influenced by that fact in this matter. The colonel, to my relief,
adjourned the meeting without announcing his determination. I felt sure
that a little more time would bring him to my way of thinking, and so it
turned out. I saw the sergeant over at the provost-guard tent, and found
him very anxious about his situation and thoroughly sorry for his hasty
conduct towards the colonel, whom he sincerely respected. He said he
felt terribly hurt at being so roughly treated. He was not to blame for
the noise, but was actually doing his best to quiet the noisy ones and
get them into quarters when the first intimation he had of the colonel's
presence was the blow from his sword. He said this blow hurt him and
roused his anger and he replied sharply, and on getting the second blow
he struck without stopping to think of the consequences. I told the
colonel of this conversation, and said if he would permit this man to
express to him personally his sorrow for his conduct, and, under the
circumstances, restore him to duty with no greater punishment than a
loss of his rank as sergeant, I felt sure he would win the hearts of all
the men and do an act he would always be glad of. Two days later, to my
great joy, he ordered me to prepare an order practically embodying my
recommendations, the order to be read at dress parade that day, and the
prisoner to be publicly released at that time. I think I never performed
a more willing or difficult task than reading that order on parade that
afternoon. Just before the ceremony, the sergeant had been brought by
the provost guard to the colonel's tent and had, in a manly way,
expressed his sorrow for his act. The colonel had stated this fact to
the regiment, and then directed me to read the order releasing the
prisoner and restoring him to duty. The tears blinded my eyes and my
emotions almost choked my voice as I tried to read, and I doubt if there
was a dry eye in the ranks when I had finished. The outcome of the
unfortunate affair was exceedingly satisfactory. The colonel, always
popular, had now the hearts of all--officers and men.