SECOND ENCAMPMENT AT WHITE OAK CHURCH AND THE PENNSYLVANIA CAMPAIGN.
The army in its old position--A trip to Dixie--The wounded at
the hospitals--Introduction of army badges--Adornments of the
camps--The "Third crossing"--The Barnard mansion--Exchanging
papers--A broken lieutenant--The Pennsylvania campaign
commenced--Restriction of baggage--A severe march--An army
bathing--At Centreville--Bristow Station--March to
Maryland--General Hooker succeeded by General Meade--Position of
the army.
The army now turned back to its old position, encamping in line nearly
as before, only all the troops which had encamped on our left, between
the Sixth corps and Belle Plain, were placed far to the right, leaving
the Sixth corps on the left of the army, instead of being nearly in its
center. The corps occupied a line nearly a mile in rear of the old camp,
where the ground had been unoccupied, and where a growth of young pines,
and, in places, considerable groves of oak timber, afforded far more
attractive surroundings than the old quarters.
The wounded were taken to an immense field hospital at Potomac creek,
where hospital tents sufficient to accommodate eight thousand wounded
men were erected in a locality where cool breezes could play freely
among the encampments, and where pure water could be obtained. On the
9th, many of our wounded were brought to the side of the river at
Fredericksburgh and sent over to us by the enemy, in pontoon boats,
under flags of truce. On the morning of the 10th, the surgeon of the
Seventy-seventh was ordered to proceed at once to Banks' Ford to receive
wounded officers who were to be removed from the enemy's lines. The
doctor was soon at the ford, where he found a boat and a flag of truce
at his disposal. He crossed the river and met the officer in command,
who received him courteously, but declared that he knew nothing of any
officers to come there. The surgeon addressed a note to General Wilcox,
commanding the brigade at Banks' Ford, but he knew as little about it as
the officer at the river. "There are plenty of federal officers here,"
said he, "and we shall be glad to send them across to your lines at any
time when General Hooker shall apply to General Lee for them; but I know
of no arrangement of the kind now." Believing that some arrangements had
been made for the transfer of the wounded officers, but that the order
had not yet reached General Wilcox, the surgeon spent the day among the
rebels, conversing with their officers, while his boatmen, having with
them a canteen of brandy, soon made themselves very popular with the
crowd of rebel soldiers who gathered about, dressed in motley colors,
buff, blue, gray, butternut, and colors indescribable. They were all in
good humor and lively, and the hours passed pleasantly, as the men from
the two opposing armies chatted in the shade of some oak trees. Finding
little prospect of executing his peaceful mission, the surgeon obtained
permission from General Wilcox to get the remains of Colonel Van
Houghten, of the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment, who was shot at Salem
Church, and died from his wound next day. Doctor McNiel, of the
Twenty-first, with a party of men, proceeded to the place where the
colonel was buried, a mile and a half from the ford, and brought the
remains to the river and across to our own lines. On reporting at
General Hooker's head-quarters, the surgeon found that no agreement had
been concluded until late in the day for the delivery of the wounded
officers; so he had spent the day in rebeldom to little effect, except
the restoration of the body of the colonel to his friends, and leaving a
company of nurses to assist our surgeons who were already in attendance
upon our prisoners.
Nearly all our wounded were at length returned to us, and were sent to
Potomac Creek, or to Washington. At Potomac Creek, the coöperation of
the Sanitary Commission was of great assistance to the surgeons; and
many comforts and luxuries, the gifts of our friends at home, cheered
the hearts of the wounded and suffering heroes. Sheets, pillow cases,
handkerchiefs, with jellies and canned fruits, were distributed in
profusion. Here was the place for manifesting the overflowing interest
and noble generosity of the people of the north, and thousands blessed
them for their munificence.
A mistaken idea prevailed among friends at home, that the agents of the
Sanitary Commission resorted to the battle-field, ministering to the
wants of the wounded, dressing the wounds, bringing the crippled from
the field, and feeding the hungry. Our illustrated papers were filled
with fine engravings, representing these acts of mercy on the
battle-field. These were pictures of the imagination. Nothing of the
sort was done. No Sanitary or Christian Commission agents frequented the
battle-field. All wounded were brought from the field by soldiers,
placed in ambulances of the government and taken to the field hospitals,
where all the wounds were dressed by surgeons or their nurses, and where
all were fed by officers selected for this special duty. The Sanitary
and Christian Commissions had a great mission. They were the
representatives of the lively interest felt by the people of the north,
for the army it had sent forth to maintain the institutions of their
country. They found abundant opportunity for accomplishing their mission
at the large hospitals after the roar of battles had passed away; but
they had nothing to do with the care of the wounded on the battle-field.
Just before leaving camp for the campaign just closed, General Hooker
had issued an order assigning to each corps and division its badge,
which was to be worn by every officer and soldier connected with either
of the corps. The men of the Sixth corps now regarded their cross with
greater pride than had ever ancient knight looked upon the heraldry
which emblazoned his arms. It had been baptized in blood, and amid
wonderful achievements of heroism. Every member of the noble corps felt
an exulting pride in his relation to it, and regarded his badge as a
mark of great honor.
The introduction of these badges became of great service to the army.
Every man could easily recognize the corps and division of any other one
in the army; and each corps learned to feel a pride in its own badge.
We had seven corps in the army; First, Second, Third, Fifth, Sixth,
Eleventh and Twelfth. The badge of the First corps was a lozenge, that
of the Second a shamrock, of the Third a diamond, of the Fifth a Maltese
cross, of the Sixth a Greek cross, the Eleventh a lunette, and of the
Twelfth a star. The badge of the First division of each corps was red,
that of the Second white, and of the Third blue. All wagons and
ambulances were marked with their appropriate badge, and the sick
soldier who fell to the rear with a pass to the ambulances, had no
difficulty in finding his own train; and quartermasters and others
connected with the trains were greatly assisted in their duties by this
ingenious device.
The camps of all the regiments of our divisions were pleasantly located,
and great pains were taken in laying them out and in decorating them.
When regiments were not sheltered in groves, pines were transplanted in
the company streets in great profusion; and arches and bowers of the
most elaborate and elegant designs, formed of the boughs of the red
cedar and pine, exquisitely entwined with the bright green holly, formed
a most attractive and beautiful feature of our second camp at White Oak
Church. At division head-quarters, General Howe had caused to be erected
a most elegant hall of these rural materials, which was a wonder of
architectural beauty as well as exquisite taste and ingenuity. Its
alcoves, its vestibules and its arches, were marvels of elegance. Here
came officers, high in command, and brilliant dames, and passed a night
in the service of Terpsichore, while bands discoursed stirring music.
In the camp of the Seventy-seventh, the adornments were profuse and
beautiful. At head-quarters, a palace of green arose among the trees
near our tents. For days, mule teams hauled huge loads of cedar boughs,
which were woven into massive pillars or elegantly turned arches, and
the structure rose like one of those fair bowers we read of in fairy
tales. Our surgeon and quartermaster were preparing the elegant
structure for the reception of their wives. It was almost complete,
needing only a few finishing touches, and the anxiously awaited guests
were expected on the following day; when, alas for the expectations of
men, an order came to be ready to march at daylight next morning! The
ladies, although too late to enjoy this rustic palace, arrived in time
to find the corps in line of battle, and witness fierce artillery duels
between the opposing armies. In their eagerness to watch the flight of
the shells, they sometimes manifested greater bravery than their
companions, whose experience had taught them to regard with suspicion
the shrieking missiles.
We had passed a pleasant month at this camp, and the men were eager,
notwithstanding their comfortable quarters, for active campaigning. The
health and spirits of the soldiers of the corps had never been better,
and in spite of the failure at Chancellorsville, they felt a great deal
of confidence. So the order to move was received with pleasure, and we
turned away from our pleasant camps willingly.
We left camp on the morning of June 5th, one of the loveliest of days,
and, taking the road we had already trod on two occasions, halted in the
valley of the Rappahannock, on the very spot where we had rested at the
first and second battles of Fredericksburgh, and prepared, for a third
time within six months, to cross the river. A correspondent of one of
the daily journals, writing from head-quarters of the army, says:
"Howe's splendid division of the fighting Sixth corps was selected for
the work of crossing, and the point for laying the bridges was just
below the mouth of Deep Run, at the identical spot where we had crossed
twice before."
Pontoons and batteries of artillery formed long lines behind the little
ridge which runs parallel with the river, and the infantry marched and
countermarched to get in right positions. Here, behind the little ridge,
we rested, until about five o'clock in the afternoon, our men mounting
the ridge, and gazing across the river, where the enemy had turned the
rifle pits thrown up by our First division, to their own use; and, in
return, the rebels raised their heads above the breastworks, or ventured
to the river side, wondering what could be the intention of the army, so
recently driven from these grounds, in making such preparations for
another crossing. There seemed but a small force opposed to us; a strong
picket on the bank, and the reserve posted behind the breastworks, were
all that could be seen, though we well knew that the heights beyond
swarmed with opposing hosts, as they had twice before. At length the
engineers drew the pontoons to the edge of the river, the
Seventy-seventh being detailed to assist in unloading. The rebels betook
themselves to the rifle pits, and opened a brisk fire; but presently
they were glad to draw their heads behind the earthworks, for five of
our batteries, Williston's, McCartney's, Cowen's, Haines' and
McCarthey's, were run out upon the plain, and opened a fierce fire,
whole batteries firing by volleys, until the whole plain, on the further
side, was a sheet of flame from the bursting shells, and huge clouds of
dust, plowed up by the shrieking missiles, rose so as to obscure the
heights. The rebels could only load, and thrust their guns above the
earthworks, firing at random, for no man could raise his head without
coming in the way of the fiery messengers of death, which filled the
air. Still their fire, although at random, was annoying, and it was
evident that the safest method was to cross men in boats, enough to
drive the rebels from their pits, or capture them, and then build the
bridge without opposition.
The Twenty-sixth New Jersey and Fifth Vermont regiments leaped into the
boats, quickly crossed, and, rushing from the bank, charged upon the
pits. The rebels were now, for the first time offered an opportunity for
flight; for while the artillery was filling the whole plain with
bursting shells, there remained no alternative but to hug the earth
behind the rifle pits; now that the artillery ceased, they scattered
across the plain in hot haste, before the rapid charge of our boys. The
two regiments pursued the fugitives, and many of them threw down their
arms; we captured about seventy-five prisoners; of these, thirty-six
were captured by Captain Davenport, who, with eighteen of his men, was
marching up the ravine through which passes the Deep Run, when they came
upon the rebels, whom they obliged to surrender, their captain
delivering his sword to Captain Davenport. Five or six men of the
engineers were killed, and some wounded. The Vermonters and New
Jerseymen, also, had a few men wounded.
The Seventy-seventh had one man killed. Sergeant Rex Haines was shot
through the head. He was a brave man, and one of the best soldiers in
the regiment. He had, until that very day, been confined to the hospital
with severe illness. A few of our men, also, received slight wounds.
The engineers proceeded at once to lay the bridges, and on the following
morning the whole division crossed. Our picket reserve made their
rendezvous at the ruins of the fine mansion which we had used for our
Second division hospital at the first battle. Now nothing but the bare
walls and heaps of rubbish marked the place where the beautiful
residence had stood. A regiment of Mississippians had occupied the
place, and had ruthlessly and willfully burned it. Yet the fine
chestnuts and broad-spreading oaks afforded as luxurious a shade as in
the palmy days when the old bachelor proprietor lounged beneath their
shadow.
The picket line extended nearly to the railroad, and, as before, formed
a semi-circle, radiating from the pontoon bridge. The enemy had also
formed a strong picket to oppose us, and the two lines of skirmishers
were within a few yards of each other.
It was a beautiful Sabbath, and all day long the troops lay upon the
plain, wondering what was to be done. There were the frowning batteries
of the enemy on the hills in front, apparently able to blow the whole
division into the air, and we could, with our glasses, discover great
numbers of infantry at the base of the hills, half hidden by the low
growth of pines. The main body of our army still remained in camp; only
our Sixth corps had moved. Evidently the enemy concluded that the
advance was rather one of observation than attack, and quietly awaited
our movements. Some firing was for a time kept up on the skirmish line,
and now and then a shell would come crashing through some of the houses
at the right, where our pickets were concealed; but at length, by mutual
consent, the pickets of each army watched the movements of their
opponents without molesting them. During this quasi-truce, a spirit of
sociability manifested itself, and our boys soon struck up an
acquaintance with their dangerous neighbors. At length an exchange of
papers was proposed, and upon mutual agreement of temporary amity, a
Yankee and a Johnnie would step into the open space between the two
lines, shake hands, inquire each other's regiment, trade papers and
retire.
There came at this time, to each company of one regiment, a copy of the
New York Observer, Independent, Christian Examiner, Evangelist and other
papers, and Mr. Alvord, the agent of the Tract Society, had just been
among the men, distributing copies of the American Messenger. These were
soon collected and carried over to be exchanged for copies of the
Richmond Enquirer, Sentinel, and Examiner. The trade was not kept wholly
within the limits of literary exchange, but sugar and coffee passed into
the rebels' hands in return for plugs of tobacco. At length an order
came from division head-quarters, stopping this illicit practice. Our
boys declared that they were acting the part of colporteurs to the
barbarian rebels, and, if they had been allowed to continue the
distribution of religious papers among them, they would soon be
convinced of the error of their ways, and desist from further fighting.
During the night of the 8th, our division was withdrawn to the north
side of the river, our place being taken by the Third division. We
retired to Stafford Heights and bivouacked. Our bivouac became our
encampment for a week. There we lay, wondering what was next to be done,
while the artillery on either side exchanged shots. The 32-pounders on
our hills sending their huge shot across to the opposite heights, and
the rebel guns replying, sometimes with shells of most improved pattern,
and at other times throwing over huge pieces of railroad iron.
An incident of much interest to Neill's brigade occurred while we were
here. A lieutenant, belonging to the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment,
had been tried by a court-martial, and convicted of cowardice at the
battle on May 3d. The whole brigade was brought out at the hour for
evening parade, and formed in a hollow square. To the center of the
inclosure the culprit was brought. His sentence was then read to him,
which was that he be dismissed the service in disgrace. The
adjutant-general of the brigade then proceeded to execute the details of
the sentence. The sword of the cowardly officer was taken from him and
broken over his head; his shoulder-straps and buttons were then cut off,
and his pistol broken and thrown away. The sentence, and the manner of
its execution, were ordered to be published in the newspapers of the
county where the regiment was raised. A similar sentence was executed in
the Seventy-seventh regiment on the same evening. Lewis Burke, of
Company F, was convicted of cowardice at the same battle. He was brought
before the regiment, which stood in line; his sentence read, his buttons
and the blue cord on his coat cut off, and a placard marked "Coward"
hung to his back. A guard, with fixed bayonets pointing at his back,
then marched him off, the band playing "The Rogues' March." Burke went
to serve out his time at the Dry Tortugas at hard labor, without pay or
allowance.
As we looked upon the execution of these humiliating sentences, we could
not help feeling how much better it would have been to have fallen nobly
on that field of battle, honored and lamented, than to live to be thus
degraded and despised. It had never been so forcibly impressed upon our
minds, how much better it was to die nobly than to live in disgrace.
When we thought of the noble Wheeler and his brave companions, who had
given their lives for their country on yonder heights, and then turned
to the sickening scene before us, we could but exclaim, "How are the
dead to be envied!"
At length, on Saturday night, June 13th, we withdrew from
Fredericksburgh, and commenced the memorable Pennsylvania campaign.
There had been, for several days, indications that General Lee was
throwing his army to our right, and was crossing the Rappahannock in the
vicinity of Culpepper. At length this had become a certainty; and the
whole army was quickly moved to come up with him. All day long the
hurrying of trains, the movements of troops, the intense activity at the
railroad station, where everything was being hastily thrown into cars,
had indicated a sudden leave-taking.
At length the trains were off, and the whole army in motion. Our own
corps being rear-guard, started at ten o'clock at night. The darkness
was intense, and a thunder shower prevailed. Our route for a long time
lay through a thick woods, where the branches of the trees, meeting over
our heads, shut out the little light that might have penetrated the
thunder clouds, and the column was shut in perfect darkness. The road
was terribly muddy, and the batteries which were trying to pass over the
same route, were frequently stuck in the mire. Our men stumbled over
stones and fallen trees, often falling beneath the feet of the horses.
Men fell over logs and stones, breaking their legs and arms. Thus we
continued the hasty and difficult march, while the rain poured in
torrents upon us. Later in the night the road became more open, and the
rain ceased. The darkness was not so black, still it was difficult to
see the road. We were passing over corduroy; some of the logs were a
foot, and others a foot and a half through. They were slippery from the
rain, and the men, heavily laden with knapsacks, guns and cartridges,
tumbled headlong, many of them going off at the side, and rolling far
down the steep embankments. A laugh from the comrades of the luckless
ones, while some one would call out, "Have you a pass to go down there?"
was the only notice taken of such accidents; and the dark column hurried
on, until at three o'clock in the morning, we halted at Potomac creek,
where we slept soundly upon the ground until morning.
The following day was Sunday. Our corps did not march until evening; we
lay resting from the fatigues of the night before, and watching the
immense army trains hurrying by, the horses and mules lashed to their
full speed, or viewing the destruction of the great hospitals which had
been established here.
There were here immense quantities of stores; bedding, glass and
earthenware, instruments and medicines, with cooking and other utensils
which could not, in the haste of breaking up, be transported; so they
were thrown in great heaps and burned.
All day long the trains crowded by, four and five wagons abreast; the
drivers shouting and lashing their beasts to their greatest speed. No
one who has not seen the train of an army in motion, can form any just
conception of its magnitude, and of the difficulties attending its
movements. It was said that the train of the Army of the Potomac,
including artillery, at the time of which we speak, if placed in a
single line, the teams at the distance necessary for the march, would
extend over seventy miles.
At Fairfax Court House, soon after this, the trains were greatly
reduced, and again at Fairfax Station; and after General Meade took
command of the army they were still further reduced. Yet,
notwithstanding all these curtailments, our trains were said to be
between thirty and forty miles long.
How little did the impatient people, who clamored at all times, in
winter as well as summer, for an immediate "advance" of the army,
consider that this immense body must always advance with the army; that
it must always be protected; that the army on every march and at every
halt must be so disposed as to prevent the enemy from reaching it from
front, flank or rear; and that when an advance was commenced, if the
trains were to become blocked up, or stuck fast in mud, the whole army
must wait for them, no matter whether it had reached a favorable
position for a halt or not. It was no small undertaking to move an army
with such a train; yet there were many at home who thought the army
could move from one place to another with the greatest ease.
It is true that the enemy got along with smaller trains than ours, and
it is true that the rebel army on that account was more easily moved
than our own. It was one of the disadvantages of too liberal a
government that our movements for two years were weighed down with these
cumbersome trains; and even after so long an experience of their evil it
was with strong feelings of opposition that the reduction was acquiesced
in.
A captain or lieutenant of the line was allowed a small valise, in which
to carry his company books and his clothing; and a staff officer was but
little better off. Must this little be reduced? Surely the ammunition
and the commissary trains could suffer no diminution. The amount of
hospital supplies carried in the wagons was already limited; could it be
reduced? The people were clamoring to have wagons of the Sanitary and
Christian Commissions admitted to the hospital trains, to carry articles
which, although they were gratefully received by the soldiers, yet were
not absolutely necessary. The ambulance train was surely not too large,
and we could spare no artillery.
Yet the train was reduced. Small as was the valise of the line officers,
it must be still smaller; little as was the baggage of the staff
officer, it must be less; and inconveniently contracted as was the size
of the mess chests, they must be still further reduced.
Thus, through the day, we watched the hurrying trains as they swept by
with immense clatter and tumult; and the files of troops, guards to the
trains, pressing forward, amid the clouds of dust and the rattle and
noise of the wagons. As the sun sunk in the west, we gathered about a
green knoll, in the shade of a pine grove, and sung old familiar hymns;
then the chaplain made a prayer; thus was offered the evening sacrifice
for the Sabbath. Few who gathered--
"Where through the long drawn aisle or fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise,"
offered more heartfelt thanksgiving, or more earnest supplications for
future protection, than the band of veterans seated on that mossy bank,
while about them was the confusion of a great army, pressing to meet its
foe.
At length, at nine o'clock at night, we took the road, and, joining the
mighty column, marched rapidly forward. The night was dark, and the
roads uneven, yet the men pressed forward with wonderful spirit. They
had heard during the day that Lee with his army, avoiding us on the
right, and moving with secrecy, had already eluded us, and was rapidly
making his way into Maryland, taking his route through the Shenandoah
Valley. This was enough to stimulate men whose greatest desire was to
meet their opponents in open fight, even on rebel ground. But now the
rebels were invading northern soil; Maryland, Pennsylvania, and even New
York, were threatened, and the men knew no limit to their enthusiasm.
"We can whip them on our own soil," said they. "There is no man who
cannot fight the better when it is for his own home." Such expressions
passed from lip to lip as the dark column pushed on during the whole
night. At times there would be a halt; not for rest, for the men,
expecting momentarily to move on, would stand in the ranks; then, on
again. Here and there were the camps of troops who had occupied the
extreme right of the army. Fine arbors and avenues had been erected from
the cedar boughs; these were set on fire, and the whole heavens were
aglow with the flames. Morning dawned, the march was becoming tedious.
The men were faint, and wanted rest and coffee; but there was no halt.
Faint and weary, yet with determination, the masses of men toiled along.
At length, as the morning advanced, the heat of the sun was almost
intolerable, and the dust suffocating. Not a leaf stirred on the trees.
Vegetation drooped under the scorching rays, and the clouds of dust was
so dense, that one could not see half the length of a regiment.
The men at length began to fall from exhaustion. One after another, with
faces burning with a glow of crimson, and panting for breath, would turn
to the surgeons of their regiments, and receive passes to the ambulances
and a draught from the surgeon's flask; but at length no more passes
could be given; the ambulances were crowded, and so many were falling on
every side, that it became useless to require or attempt to give passes,
or even for the surgeons to attempt to relieve the sufferers.
In every corner of the rail fences, and under every tree and bush,
groups of men, with faces glowing with redness, some with streams of
perspiration rolling down their cheeks, and others with their red faces
dry and feverish, strewed the wayside and lined the hedges. Here the
color-bearer of a regiment, his color lying beside him, lay gasping for
breath; there a colonel, his horse tied to the fence, strove to fan the
air into a little life with his broad-brimmed hat. Under one little
clump of cedars might be seen an exhausted group of line officers,
captains and lieutenants, and under the next, a number of enlisted men
who could no longer keep the road. The spectacle along the roadside
became appalling. Regiments became like companies, and companies lost
their identity; men were dying with sunstroke; and still the march was
continued. This could not last much longer, for the brave men who still
held out were fast losing strength, and soon there would be no troops
able to move. At length, at nearly three o'clock, we came in sight of
the little, old, depopulated town of Dumfries. Here, to the joy of all,
we saw men filing into the fields for a halt. There was no cheer, no
expression of gladness; for the tired men, with feet blistered and raw,
worn out by seventeen hours' constant march, almost melted and
smothered, cared little for demonstrations. Throwing themselves upon the
ground, they rested for half an hour, and then, rousing long enough to
cook their coffee, they refreshed themselves with their hard tack, pork
and coffee, and were ready to sleep. Here the Vermont brigade was drawn
up in line, and some half a dozen men, skulkers, principally from the
Twenty-sixth New Jersey, were drummed out of camp, the bands of the
brigade playing "The Rogues' March." All who were participants of that
day's work, remember it as the most trying march of the Army of the
Potomac. Very grateful to the weary army was sleep that night, but, at
two o'clock in the morning, the shout passed along the line, "fall in!
fall in!" And so, without coffee, we rolled our blankets and fell into
line. But, as often happens, when the whole army is to move, some parts
must wait long before the others are out of the way. So we of the Sixth
corps waited until four o'clock, and got our coffee finally before the
rest of the column had made way for us. It was another hot, dusty day,
but not so intolerable as the day before, and about two or three o'clock
we arrived at Occoquan creek, crossing at Wolf Run Shoals. Here we had
two or three hours' rest. The men had no sooner halted than they plunged
into the stream, and the wide creek was soon alive with swarms of men
splashing and diving in the cooling element.
It was a novel sight. An army bathing. A brigade of nine months Vermont
troops, had been stationed here during the winter. They were full
regiments, never thinned by exhausting labors, hard campaigns or the
trying ordeal of battle. They now bade farewell to their comfortable
quarters and picket duty, and joined the Grand Army on a real campaign.
Although we had already made a long march, at four o'clock we were again
on the road, and before dark we reached Fairfax Station, six miles from
Wolf Run Shoals. This was a more cheerful march than the others. The
men, refreshed by their bath, and strengthened by a good dinner and two
hours' rest, now went shouting, singing and laughing, as though marching
was but play.
This day we heard that some part of Lee's army was in Pennsylvania! The
men were as anxious to go forward as were their commanders. The corps
bivouacked in groves on the turnpike, which led from Fairfax to
Manassas, resting for the night and the following day. Here our train
underwent a process of purging. Needless articles, and many useful ones,
which could be disposed of, were sent to the rear. The trains were to go
with smaller loads, and many teams were to be taken from them.
We had marched, since setting out from before Fredericksburgh, through a
country, well enough by nature, but neglected, barren and depopulated.
How large a portion of this great State was in this sad condition? Its
naturally rich fields were grown up to scrub pines, mugworts and
wormwood. Its fair valleys desolate of inhabitants, or inhabited by low
white trash, as idle as ignorant. The groves and fields where we now
rested were pleasant for a bivouac, but the fields were waste land, and
the oak timber was all that seemed of any value, as far as we could see.
Yet we were now within a few miles of Washington, where articles of food
brought fabulous prices, and wood could scarcely be procured. Why were
these fine lands desolate? Was it because agriculture was unprofitable?
Surely, with Washington and Alexandria so near, and Baltimore at a short
distance farther, there should be a good market for produce. Was it
because the war had put a stop to agricultural pursuits? The scrub pines
and dwarf oaks growing upon deserted tobacco fields, where the ridges
were still plainly visible, showed that before the war indolence
prevailed.
At five o'clock on the morning of June 19th, we were again on the march,
reaching Fairfax Court House before noon. Again our train was
overhauled, baggage reduced, and teams sent to the rear. By this time
the train began to assume more reasonable dimensions. General officers
were strictly forbidden the use of ambulances, henceforth all ambulances
were to be used for their legitimate purposes, and general officers and
their staffs were to get along with a more reasonable amount of baggage,
while regimental officers were to be allowed only the most limited
amount of transportation. A single small valise only was the extent of
baggage for each regimental officer, and a mess chest of the size of a
cracker box, was to be the allowance for all officers of a single
company.
About Fairfax Court House was stationed a division of cavalry and some
infantry, under the command of General Stahl. These troops, like the
brigade of Vermont troops, had been employed in guarding the country
against the inroads of guerilla bands. These were now also to join the
Army of the Potomac, and their gallant conduct at Falling Waters, a few
days after, showed them to be composed of the best material.
General Hooker, unwilling to favor General Lee, by uncovering the
capital, and wisely judging of his wary enemy's motives, instead of
pushing rapidly forward to Maryland, as Lee desired, threw the different
corps into positions, which should at once be favorable for watching his
movements, and resisting any attack. Accordingly, our own corps, turning
partly back from our line of march, on the 20th, marched towards Bristow
Station.
We passed through Centreville, its powerful forts and redoubts
garrisoned by large regiments of men, who wore bright new uniforms, and
whose officers had red tufts upon their caps. These new uniforms were
soon to be as grimy and dusty as those of the veterans, at whom they now
gazed with so much interest, and the full regiments were soon to find
their ranks thinned by the same terrible process which had made those
passing by them only fragments of regiments.
The works about Centreville were of most powerful character, having been
made even stronger than at the last battle of Bull Run. In the forts and
redoubts upon the commanding positions, was mounted heavy artillery, and
the long lines of trenches and breastworks, stretching far to the
flanks, and commanding declivities where musketry and artillery could
sweep an advancing force with terrible effect, rendered the position
impregnable from any direct assault. The few dilapidated houses still
remaining to mark the site of the village, presented a forlorn and
pitiful appearance. Deserted by their owners, occupied as stables and
storehouses some of them falling in ruins, and all dirty and
dilapidated, they were a mournful commentary on the ruthless destruction
which follows in the footsteps of war. Still further on, our route led
us along the Manassas Gap railroad. Here were more sad pictures of the
havoc of war. The track was torn up, the ties burnt. Every now and then,
numbers of car wheels and axles, iron bands and braces, couplings and
reaches, showed where whole trains had been burned.
Here and there, the incombustible materials among the debris showed the
lading of particular cars. The remains of fruit cans, tin plates,
blacking boxes and glassware, told of sutlers who had disposed of their
wares at less than the usual exorbitant prices. Heaps of spikes and
handleless hammers, and iron bars, reminded us of disconcerted plans in
railroad extension, while numberless solid shot, bullets and fragments
of shells, showed where car loads of ammunition had been consumed in
harmless explosions.
At length, after a hard day's march, we arrived at Bristow Station,
where the corps turned into the fields and bivouacked.
The tower and wind-mill which had been used for raising water to the
tank, remained alone to show where the station had been; all the other
buildings being destroyed, except where still remained the dismantled
ruins of what had once been a hotel.
Here, as for miles back on the road, were the remains of ruined cars and
their contents.
The surrounding country was delightful. A mile or two south of us was a
little church in the midst of an oak grove. It is an agreeable
peculiarity with the southern people, that they are accustomed to locate
their country churches in the midst of pleasant groves, sometimes at a
distance from any residence. In this respect, they certainly exhibit
better taste than the people of most of our northern States, who have
such a propensity for setting the church on the summit of some high hill
where not a tree or shrub adorns the grounds, and the aspiring steeple
seems, like Babel, to be striving vainly to reach the heavens.
On the morning after our arrival here, we heard the sounds of
cannonading not far off, and learned that the cavalry under General
Pleasanton were hotly engaged at Aldee and Upperville, with Stuart's
rebel cavalry, and that our forces were getting the best of the
desperate encounter, winning laurels for themselves and gaining another
of that series of victories which was destined to remove the derision in
which that arm of the service had been held, not from any previous want
of good fighting qualities on the part of our cavalry. General
Pleasanton had attacked Stuart's forces near Middleburgh, driving the
rebels in confusion through Upperville to Ashby's Gap, taking some
pieces of artillery and a large number of prisoners. General Kilpatrick,
in this engagement, had exhibited fighting qualities of the first order,
riding in front of the men and leading the way when they hesitated. His
gallant conduct inspired for him the confidence and admiration of his
men. It was the commencement of a brilliant career which made him one of
the first cavalry commanders in the army. His dashing ride from the
Peninsula to Fredericksburgh, with but a handful of men, eluding the
watchfulness of the wily Stuart, had already established his talent for
bold adventure, and his conduct on this occasion proved his personal
bravery. These are the two great qualities needed for a cavalry officer,
and Kilpatrick's name at once became a tower of strength among his men.
In this pleasant locality the corps remained, an outpost for the army,
guarding the passes from the Shenandoah, for five days. The weather was
delightful, and the men enjoyed, to the utmost, the needed rest. They
lounged in the shade of their tents or in the neighboring groves, or
strolled along the railroad track, examining curiously the ruined
remains of the trains. In a delightful spot at a distance from the
camps, almost surrounded by a grove of oak trees, the hospital tents of
our Second division were erected. To this quiet and lovely spot, where
cool breezes always played, were brought the sick and weary, and
carefully nursed.
But General Lee despaired of inducing General Hooker to uncover the
capital, so, leaving Virginia with his whole army, he pushed toward
Pennsylvania, determined at least to draw our army as far away from
Washington as possible, and to reap rich harvests of spoils among the
overflowing granaries of the Keystone State. No sooner had the movement
of the main body of Lee's army into Maryland commenced, than General
Hooker, with his forces, commenced the pursuit.