THE STORY
OF THE
THIRTY-SECOND REGIMENT
MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY.
WHENCE IT CAME; WHERE IT WENT; WHAT IT SAW;
AND WHAT IT DID.
BY FRANCIS J. PARKER, COLONEL.
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
C. W. CALKINS & CO., PUBLISHERS.
1880.
C. W. CALKINS & CO., PRINTERS,
286 Washington St., Boston.
TO THE OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS
OF THE
THIRTY-SECOND MASSACHUSETTS,
IN MEMORY OF THE DEAD
AND
IN HONOR OF THE LIVING.
ERRATUM.
On page 3, twelfth line, for “Brevet Brigadier-General,” read
“Colonel.” Colonel Prescott was never breveted.
PREFACE.
This book is not a history of the civil war, nor even of the Army
of the Potomac; but merely the story of one of the regiments which
composed that Army. It does not relate the biography of the many
distinguished generals under whose command the battalion served, and
the endeavor has been made to exclude from it not only discussions
as to the merits of individuals, but even favorable or unfavorable
opinions, save when the facts related implied or seemed to require such
reflections.
The book is intended chiefly to collect and present in narrative form,
descriptions of some of the experiences of our Regiment, in order to
preserve them in the memory of those who were actors in the scenes
described, and enable the officers and men of the 32d to place in the
hands of their children and friends vivid pictures of the dangers,
trials, and pleasures which attended the service of our soldiers in the
war for the Union.
In the preparation of the book, I have received, and gratefully
acknowledge, the assistance of many of my old comrades, officers, and
men, not only by way of incidents related verbally, but also--and
this especially concerning events which occurred after my own
resignation--by way of written contributions. Many of these are
embodied in the text almost in the language of the writers, and others
in a more or less condensed form. Among those to whom I am thus
indebted should be particularly named General Luther Stephenson, jr.,
Surgeon Z. B. Adams, Major E. S. Farnsworth, General J. A. Cunningham,
Sergeant S. C. Spaulding, Major Ambrose Bancroft, Captains G. W.
Lauriat and J. C. Fuller; and last, but by no means least, Surgeon
W. L. Faxon and Mrs. Faxon, whose memories have provided stores of
incident. To Colonel I. F. Kingsbury I am indebted for the result of
time-consuming researches in the Adjutant-General’s Department of the
State.
While making these just acknowledgments I absolve all those named from
any responsibility for such literary imperfections as may appear herein
and, assuming to myself all blame for such defects, must ask my readers
to consider in charity to me the difficulties which must attend a work
so composed, and at the last somewhat hastily completed.
F. J. P.
_Boston, April 30th, 1880._
CONTENTS.
PREFACE vii
I.
IN GARRISON 1
II.
ON OUR OWN HOOK 28
III.
ON THE PENINSULA 43
IV.
CAMPAIGNING UNDER POPE 64
V.
OUR THIRD BATTALION 75
VI.
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 85
VII.
AFTER ANTIETAM 107
VIII.
TO FREDERICKSBURG 117
IX.
BETWEEN CAMPAIGNS 136
X.
CHANCELLORSVILLE 150
XI.
FREDERICKSBURG TO GETTYSBURG 159
XII.
AFTER GETTYSBURG 175
XIII.
A LADY AT WINTER QUARTERS 183
XIV.
AT LIBERTY 189
XV.
OUT ON PICKET 196
XVI.
ON FURLOUGH 204
XVII.
THE WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN 208
XVIII.
THE BOMB PROOFS 223
XIX.
OUR CORPS HOSPITAL 228
XX.
ABOUT PETERSBURG 234
XXI.
THE LAST CAMPAIGN 245
THE STORY OF THE
THIRTY-SECOND REGIMENT
MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY.
I.
_IN GARRISON._
The story of the 32d Massachusetts Infantry was, of course, in most
respects like that of others, but not in all. The immortal Topsy
thought she was not made, but “‘spect she growed.” So our regiment
was not made a regiment at the start, but it grew to be one. Other
battalions from New England gathered into camps and acquired their
preliminary education among neighbors, and cheered by the presence of
visitors, who looked on and admired their guard-mountings at morning,
and their dress-parades at evening; and these hardened into soldiers
by a rough experience in mud or dust on the line of the Potomac, while
our beginning was in a walled fort, on a bleak island, isolated even
from the visits of friends, and under the most exact discipline of
_ante-bellum_ regular-army rule.
Fort Warren, which was our cradle, is the outpost of Boston, and it
was very nearly, but not entirely, completed when the war broke out.
Until 1861 it had never been occupied as a military post. The 12th
and 14th Massachusetts had been in occupation of the island while the
organization of those battalions was in progress, during the summer of
that year, and when they left, the post was somewhat hurriedly prepared
for the reception of prisoners, a large number having been captured in
North Carolina by the column under General Burnside.
Early in the autumn of the year 1861 Colonel Justin E. Dimmock was
assigned to the command at Fort Warren. At the first outbreak of the
rebellion this patriotic officer, fortunately for the cause of the
Union, was in command at Fort Munroe, and resisting every attempt made
upon his loyalty, he held that important post for the government under
whose flag he had fought, and in whose service he had passed his active
life.
As the war progressed Fort Munroe became a great centre for the
operations of the army, and the duties required of its commandant were
too severe for a man of Colonel Dimmock’s age and infirmities, and he
was transferred to the more quiet scenes in Boston Harbor. A temporary
garrison was detailed from the 24th Massachusetts Infantry, then in
process of formation, but upon the application of Colonel Dimmock,
a new battalion of four companies of infantry was raised to be used
as a garrison until the exigencies of the service required their
presence elsewhere, and this body of men, called the First Battalion
Massachusetts Infantry, relieved the same number of companies of the
24th.
Company A, recruited in Hingham by Captain (afterward
Brevet-Brigadier-General) Luther Stephenson, jr., was mustered into
service November 16th, 1861, and reported for duty at the fort on the
following day. Charles A. Dearborn, jr., was First Lieutenant, and
Nathaniel French, jr., Second Lieutenant.
Company B, recruited in Concord, Massachusetts, by Captain (afterward
Brevet-Brigadier-General) George L. Prescott, was mustered in November
15th, 1861. Cyrus L. Tay, First Lieutenant, and Isaiah F. Hoyt, Second
Lieutenant.
Company C, recruited in Boston by Captain Jonathan Pierce, was mustered
in November 16th, 1861. Joseph Austin, First Lieutenant, and Robert
Hamilton, Second Lieutenant.
Company D was recruited in Gloucester, and was almost entirely composed
of fishermen and sailors. It was commanded by Captain James P. Draper.
The late Adjutant-General James A. Cunningham was First Lieutenant, and
Stephen Rich, Second Lieutenant.
These companies were rapidly recruited, and were immediately despatched
to their post, no time being allowed for drill, and hardly time to say
good-bye. It may be presumed that when they reported, their discipline
was nothing, and their ideas of military order exceedingly crude.
Perhaps this was more particularly the case with Company D, which,
as we have already said, was composed almost entirely of Gloucester
fishermen,--or it may have been the excessive hospitality of the
friends of that company, that led to a little scene immediately upon
its arrival.
The more jovial of the soldiers were weeded out at the landing, and
quietly deposited in the guard-house; the remainder were marched
into the fort, and soon after to the cook house, where an ample
supper of soft bread and tea awaited them. A few months later such
a repast would have been hailed as the height of luxury, but by the
raw sailor-soldiers it was now regarded with contempt. The loaves,
instead of being devoted to their proper use as the staff of life, were
converted into missiles, and the air was alive with them,--the dim
evening light favoring an impartial distribution.
In the midst of the racket, Colonel Dimmock appeared upon the scene,
lantern in hand, and immediately received plump in the head one of
the finest of the loaves, which, with a refinement of ingenuity, had
been dipped in hot tea. The scene which followed was one not easily to
be forgotten. The outraged old soldier dashed in among the turbulent
men, and by his habit of command at once overawed and controlled them.
Ordering them into a line, throwing some into position apparently by
main strength, he passed along the ranks, throwing his light into each
face until he came to the real culprit, six solid feet of man and tar,
whose face declared his guilt. Seizing the burly giant by the arm, the
old colonel fairly dragged him out of the casemate, as if he had been
a child; but when the man had humbled himself sufficiently, protesting
that “he didn’t mean anything,” the commandant dismissed him after a
brief but forcible lecture on discipline, and an injunction to beware
of any second offence.
Late in November the battalion organization was completed by the
appointment of the Field and Staff, Francis J. Parker, Major; Charles
K. Cobb, Adjutant; and George W. Pearson, Quartermaster; and the Major
assumed command December 2d, 1861.
The Post-Commander, Colonel Justin E. Dimmock, was also Colonel of the
First United States Artillery, and the headquarters of the regiment was
with him; but with the exception of the excellent band of the regiment,
there were none other of its officers or men at the post.
Fort Warren at this time was occupied as a depot for Confederate war
and state prisoners--the former consisted mainly of some 800 men,
captured in North Carolina, and included also a number of Confederate
officers, among whom were Commodore Barron and Colonel Pegram; and
among the latter were the Confederate ambassadors, Mason and Slidell,
Mayor Brown, Chief of Police Kane of Baltimore, and others.
The first duty to be taught and learned under such circumstances was
guard duty, and that was no holiday work. The daily detail consisted of
about seventy-five men, and was divided into the interior and exterior
guard. During the daytime a line of sentinels enclosed a space in
front of the prisoners’ quarters, within which they were permitted to
exercise, and these sentinels at retreat were drawn in to the casemate
entrances. Guards were also placed at the sally-port and postern, and
near the staircases leading up to the ramparts. Outside, a picket line
entirely surrounded the fortifications; watch being kept not only to
prevent escape from within, but also to forbid the approach of boats
from the sea or the shore.
Such duty on a bleak island, exposed to the terrible cold and storms of
a New England winter, was no pastime. Occasionally some of the outposts
would be untenable by reason of the dash of waves, and often inspection
and relief of the posts was effected with great difficulty because of
the icy condition of the ground. In the most severe storms the guard
was replaced by patrols, each of two men, who walked the line, one
patrol being despatched every fifteen or twenty minutes.
One dark howling night the sentinel, on post near what was called
the grave-yard, reported to the officer that a white form had twice
passed between him and the fort, and upon close questioning the soldier
admitted that he had not challenged, because he feared it was a
ghost. There was considerable stir, in and outside the fort, until an
inspection had shown that no prisoner had escaped and no intruder could
be found.
The sentinel was allowed two hours of extra guard duty, and an order
was posted at the guard-house denouncing severe punishment in any
future case where ghosts were allowed to pass a beat without challenge
and arrest.
* * * * *
Inasmuch as many who will read these pages may never have seen the
inside of a fort, a few words descriptive of Fort Warren, may not be
amiss.
The Fort proper is constructed almost entirely of hewn granite. The
area enclosed is not far from six acres, of which the parade ground
occupies five. The general form of the area is a pentagon, but at
each of its five angles a bastion projects in such manner that every
portion of the ditch which surrounds the walls, can, in case of need,
be reached by musketry and howitzers from the casemates.
This area is surrounded by casemated walls, which are in fact huge
bomb-proof buildings, structures of stone with heavy arches of brick to
support the great mass of earth which is required to protect them from
shells thrown from mortars. In these casemates are quarters for the
officers and men of the garrison, magazines for ammunition, storehouses
for all manner of supplies, a hospital of generous dimensions, a huge
cistern for water, an ice-house, cook, and mess-room, besides space
for a large battery of heavy guns facing towards the sea. Some of
these vaulted chambers are lighted through the outer walls by means
of embrasures calculated for howitzers, or by loop-holes intended for
defence by musketry. Others look out upon the parade ground, and have
upon that face the appearance of stone dwellings of one storey, entered
by ordinary doorways, and lighted through spacious windows. Those which
occupy the northwest side of the parade are of two stories, one being
below the level of the interior grade. These are for use as officers’
quarters, and during the war, those which are entered from the doors
nearest to, and on either side of the entrance arch, were occupied by
the civilians and officers among the prisoners confined in the fort.
The interior depth of the casemates, from the inner to the outer wall,
does not vary much from sixty feet, giving ample space, equal indeed to
the depth of a large city residence. The barracks for the soldiers are
divided into rooms, generally about sixty by twenty feet, and during a
part of the war many of them were assigned to the enlisted men who were
prisoners.
A full garrison for Fort Warren would be not far from twenty-five
hundred men, and that number could be quartered in the casemates.
Above these buildings are the ramparts, on which the chief part of the
armament is placed, and these ramparts are walled in by a parapet of
about five feet in height, of very thick masonry, intended to protect
the men while working the guns, from the fire of an enemy. These
ramparts are now provided with a full armament of ten inch and fifteen
inch guns, placed as near together as convenience in working would
permit, but in our day the greater part of the guns were four inch and
thirty-two pounders, the casemate battery alone, consisting of eight
inch columbiads.
The entire equipment of the Fort comprises over three hundred of these
heavy guns, of which some seventy may always be concentrated upon any
one point of the channel which they defend. Outside, and immediately
surrounding the walls of the casemated fort is a fosse, or ditch, some
fifty feet in width, and outside of this are other defences, (which
outwardly, are earthworks,) including an exterior curtain on the north,
a ravelin on the south, and a water battery on the northwest, the whole
composing in fact a fortress of great strength, even in these days of
iron-clads and great guns.
To one who thoroughly explores the Island there will recur vivid
reminiscences of the mysterious castles of romance and of history.
He will find here a sally-port, a postern, a drawbridge, and a
portcullis. Here, too, are passages under ground and in the walls;
turret staircases, huge vaulted apartments, and safe and dark dungeons,
the ways to and through which may be set down upon the plans of the
engineer corps, but are familiar to no living man. One can be easily
bewildered among the crooks and turns, the ups and downs of the
corridors, and it needs only a dark and windy night to make almost real
the romantic descriptions of the Castle of Udolfo, with its clanging
sounds of chains, its sweeping gusts of air, its strange moanings and
howlings, and the startling noise of some sudden clang of a shutting
door reverberating among the arches.
More than twelve years had passed since the 32d Regiment left Fort
Warren for more stirring scenes, when the writer for the first time
since that day, again visited the Island.
Escaping for a time from the courteous hospitality of the officers of
the post, he started alone through the once accustomed scenes. Grim
visaged war had smoothed his wrinkled front. There were no sentinels
to challenge or salute; no familiar faces in the well-remembered
quarters. Even the uniforms were changed; officers seemed to be wearing
sergeants’ stripes on their trousers, and unknown ornaments on their
shoulders. There were women about the landing, newspapers in the
guard-house (!), and a peaceful fishing pole and tackle leaned quietly
against the sole survivor of all our sentry boxes.
The doorways to the officers’ casemates were shielded from the hot sun
by gaily painted, veranda-like porches, about which shrubs and vines,
with bright foliage and blossoms, glistened in the sunlight, and in the
very room where erstwhile Mason and Slidell pursued the warlike game
of poker, and spat upon the bare flooring, there was a most ladylike
parlor, with carpets, mirrors, and an attractive-looking case of
book-shelves, well loaded with seemly books.
Again was paced the line of our outposts. Every step awakened old
memories--every pebble seemed a friend; but there was no ice upon
the glacis or the “shelf” at post eighteen, and instead of the cold
winds, came grateful breezes from the sea, which no longer leaden in
color dashed against the rock, but blue and smooth basked in the hot
noon-day, and laughingly rippled on the beach. It would have been a
sad walk but for the beauty of the summer scenes--it would have been a
joyous one but for clinging memories.
During the time of our stay in garrison at Fort Warren, the battalion
was increased to six companies by the addition of Companies E and F,
recruited during the winter.
Company E was raised in the Old Colony by Captain Cephas C. Bumpus.
First Lieutenant, Josiah C. Fuller; Second Lieutenant, Lyman B. Whiton.
The Company was mustered into service December 7th, 1861, and joined
immediately.
Company F was enlisted in Boston, also by Captain Bumpus, who was
detailed for the duty, and was mustered in about the first of March,
1861, its officers being, Captain, James A. Cunningham; First
Lieutenant, Charles K. Cobb, (Adjutant); Second Lieutenant, William H.
Gertz.
The breaking in of the men was upon the regular-army system; first
each man was “set up” by himself, then the drill was in squads, in
increasing numbers, and afterward in company and battalion. When the
weather was such as absolutely to forbid out-of-door drill, the men
were taught in the school of artillery, and practiced on the great guns
in the casemate battery.
The most exact discipline was necessarily maintained, and as soldierly
discipline is only to be obtained by close attention to minutiæ--not
even things apparently trifling were neglected. The fact that one
button of a soldier’s overcoat was not fastened, was noted and the
parade was stopped until the defect was remedied. No soldier was
allowed to sit in the presence of an officer. The regulation salutes
proper to each rank were required and paid by officers and men,
sentinels and the guard. Adhering to the letter of the regulations,
our manual was that of Scott, because we were armed with muskets, not
rifles. Every nook and corner of every barrack and bunk, and every
portion of the dress of every officer and man, must at all times be
satisfactory to the keen and critical eye of an “old army” Colonel.
All of this was needed to make perfect soldiers, and all of it was
readily accepted and observed by the men, more than nine-tenths of whom
were American born, in order that they might become good soldiers.
Singularly enough it was more difficult to bring the officers to exact
the honors due to rank, than the soldiers to yield them.
Army officers often expressed their surprise at the rapidity with
which a command so essentially native, was brought to the extreme of
army discipline, and almost without punishment. This result was a
complete proof that intelligent Americans can be brought into a state
of thorough and exact discipline more readily, by reason of their
intelligence, than the uneducated immigrants who were once thought to
make better soldiers because of their comparative ignorance. Of course
there were occasional extra hours of guard duty for men returning from
leave on shore--people on the mainland were so very hospitable--but
rarely was any more serious correction requisite.
There was one case, a second offence perhaps, where the sinner was put
on special log duty, and he has since declared that it was sufficiently
severe to keep him dry for six months. Two or three sticks of four-foot
firewood, not excessively large, but good fair size, were placed in the
bastion near the officers’ quarters, and as many more at the extreme
end of the parade, near the postern. The offender was ordered to
shoulder a billet from one bastion, and to carry it in “common time”
to the other; there to lay it down, and taking up another, to return
over his beat and deposit it at the place of departure--and so on for
several hours. The punishment consisted, not in the laborious character
of his occupation, but in the fact that he knew it was useless labor,
and that everybody else knew it also. The occasional inquiries or
remarks of comrades about the profits of the carrying trade in fuel,
may very likely have aggravated the penalty.
Bearing in mind the fact that Great Britain was wroth at the seizure
of the rebel envoys, and connecting that with the other fact that a
large fleet of British men-of-war was gathering at Halifax, it seemed
possible that a demonstration might be made for the recovery of the
lost plenipos; and it was, perhaps, natural that some interest should
be felt as to our ability to repel attack, or to endure blockade, and,
of course, as to the amount of our stores of food and ammunition.
Perhaps it was just as well for us at this time that no enemy appeared,
for our stock of fixed ammunition consisted of thirty rounds, borrowed
from Fort Independence. We were unable to salute the Governor, on his
visit, for want of powder, and months passed before our magazines
contained shot, shell, or powder in any more respectable quantity.
The duties of our battalion at Fort Warren were of course entirely
military. The affairs of the prisoners were administered by Colonel
Dimmock and his staff,--one of whom inspected the quarters every
day to see that all of the prisoners were present; and all their
correspondence and communications with the outside world passed under
the eye of the post officers.
No prisoners could be better cared for or more considerately treated.
Each was allowed the full ration of a soldier, and was even allowed
to commute the ration and expend the money for other food. A liberal
portion of the lading of the steamer, whose daily visit was our only
tie to the continent, was made up of purchases and gifts for these
guests of the nation, and their messes were always abundantly supplied
both with solids and fluids.
Mr. Mason was a portly gentleman, evidently accustomed to good living;
rather jovial in his appearance, and courteous in his manner. He took
matters very easily, and seemed in no haste to depart. Mr. Slidell,
on the contrary, a lean and dyspeptic looking man, was fretful and
impatient, and evidently chafed much under his confinement.
Mayor Brown, of Baltimore, whose case was one of those which perhaps
could not be entirely avoided, of unjust confinement, was always
easy and bland in manner, and genial and affable to all about him,
contrasting very decidedly with Kane, the Chief of the Baltimore
Police, who was a thoroughly ugly specimen of a Maryland rebel.
Later on we had the pleasure, for a time, to see with us General
Tilghman, a merry, happy-go-lucky officer, and General Buckner, an
excellent specimen of the ramrod soldier.
The two last named were, for a time, by special order from Washington,
kept in solitary confinement,--that is to say, each was assigned to a
separate apartment in the basement of the commandant’s quarters. Their
rooms and their doors were exactly opposite each other, and a sentinel
was posted in the passage to prevent escape or communication between
them. Occasionally, when the weather was warm, they were allowed
to leave their doors open, and on one such occasion the officer on
his rounds at night found the sentinel slumbering on the floor, and
the _solitary_ prisoners having a good time together in one of the
apartments. That soldier was not allowed to sleep a great deal for the
next day or two.
Colonel Dimmock declined an earnest invitation to pass Christmas eve
and day in Boston, because, as he said, he knew that among southern
people it was held to be a Christian duty to be royally drunk at yule
tide, and his presence might be important. It was our impression that
no violence was done to southern principles on that occasion.
The first day of January, 1862, came, bringing with it a brisk gale
of wind from the eastward, thick lead-colored clouds, and occasional
dashes of rain. It brought also a great excitement to our humdrum
community. A steam tug came to the wharf early in the morning, and
its sole passenger, a civilian, was escorted to the quarters of the
Commandant; then the Colonel went in person to the quarters of our
Major, and there was a conference; then the drum-call sounded for
parade earlier than usual, and by so many extraordinary occurrences our
population was “convulsed with excitement.” Very soon everybody knew
that an order had been received for the release of Mason and Slidell.
There was a great stir among the first circles of the prisoners, and
we afterward learned that they and the envoys imagined that honors and
salutes would be paid upon their departure. But in this expectation
they were destined to disappointment. The precautions of Colonel
Dimmock entirely prevented any semblance of honors, and even suppressed
the exhibition of such curious interest as would naturally have attended
the incident.
Two sections of men, specially detailed, were so posted as to prevent
any person ascending to the ramparts. The battalion was kept under
arms and exercise upon the parade, and the prisoners were notified
that unless they would give their parole not to make any noisy
demonstrations, they would be confined to their casemates. And so it
happened, that, except a noiseless waving of hands and handkerchiefs
from their fellow-prisoners, the envoys received no attention from any
one. As they passed out from the fort, escorted only by the Commandant,
the officer of the day, and the agent of the State Department, the
battalion stood in line of battle, with their backs to the envoys,
with ordered arms and at parade rest. As they passed the guard house,
the guard also stood at parade rest, Colonel Dimmock having waived the
salute due to his rank, for fear that it might be claimed as an honor
to his departing guests.
The prolonged gale had caused the tide to flood the wharf, so that
it was not easy or pleasant to pass over it to the tug boat. When
underweigh not one person, except the sentinels on the outposts, could
be seen on the island, and the driving rain and wind soon forced
the passengers to seek the shelter of the cabin, which they found
profusely decorated with the American flag. It is said that Mason spat
and Slidell swore the whole of the rough voyage to Provincetown, in
which secluded harbor a British man-of-war received them from the tug,
without any demonstration, and at once put to sea.
Among the prisoners at the fort was one Keene (?), who was kept in
close confinement in a small, triangular room in the casemates, the
only light to which came through a loophole in the masonry. He
was a sailor, and it was said that he had attempted to blow up the
frigate _Congress_ with all on board, with which horrible design he
had enlisted in our navy. He was offered greater liberty if he would
promise not to attempt an escape, but the offer was declined. Afterward
he refused to take an oath of allegiance as the only condition for his
release, and he was probably let loose at last without condition.
We had a great desire to ascertain what time would be required for the
formation of the battalion in case of night alarm, but Colonel Dimmock
would not permit the beating of the long-roll for a mere experiment,
because false alarms were forbidden by the regulations. Happily that
invaluable code placed no restriction on the hours for parade, and
when, by the absence of the Colonel, our Major was left in command of
the post, the information was obtained.
Tattoo had been sounded, roll-call was over, lights in the barracks
were all out, and the men in bed and generally asleep. An extra guard
was quietly posted in front of the prisoners’ quarters, and a verbal
message summoned the officers to headquarters.
When all were assembled they were told that it was desirable to know
how soon, under such circumstances, the battalion could be assembled,
properly equipped and ready for duty.
The order was given at eight minutes past ten,--the officers were
obliged to equip themselves and to turn out, form and march their men
on to the parade; but in less than five minutes the line was formed,
with three-fourths of the whole force present. The inspection showed
few deficiencies (one man, to be sure, forgot his trousers), and the
experiment was quite satisfactory.
We were not without occupation, nor even without our amusements through
the long winter. The officers were fully occupied, in the intervals of
duty, in boning over the tactics. To learn and teach both the infantry
and artillery manual, as well as battalion movements, and at the same
time to perform the various duties of the post, implied no great amount
of leisure,--on the part of the officers at least. But time was found
for an occasional evening entertainment, including one or two excellent
concerts.
One evening there was a musical soiree in the quarters of Mr. Buell,
one of the post staff, and two or three of the prisoners were present
by his invitation; among them was Colonel Pegram, of Virginia, who,
being invited to sing, complied, and to the surprise of everybody
selected the disloyal song, “My Maryland,” which he sang well to his
own guitar accompaniment. When he stopped, there ensued for a minute or
two an absolute and ominous silence, which was broken by our Captain
Draper, who, with his ringing voice, began the patriotic song, “Vive
l’America.” The chorus was taken up by all the Union officers present,
singing perhaps with more fervor than accuracy:--
“United we stand, divided we fall,
Union forever--freedom to all,
Throughout the wide land our motto shall be
Vive l’America, land of the free.”
At the close of the song Colonel Pegram complimented the singing, and
frankly apologized for his discourtesy.
At times the interior of the fort seemed better adapted for use as
a skating rink than as a parade-ground. In the worst of such times
the dress-parades were omitted, and guard-mounting took place in the
casemates; but the marching of the reliefs over glare ice, in a high
wind, did not convey the idea of an exact military movement.
One of the men, engaged on a job of repairs, loaded up a light
hand-cart with five or six boards, and essayed to push the load before
him from the north-west bastion to the opposite side of the fort,
while the ice was as smooth as a mirror, and a northwest gale blowing
furiously. It was a slow process at the start, but when the team
emerged from under the lee of the walls, the gale seized the whole
concern, boards, cart, and man, and sent them in detached parties,
whirling over the ice field.
Our winter was a new experience to the North Carolina men, and no doubt
they have yet great stories to tell of the snow and ice and cold, of
a sea-coast everywhere bounded by rocks, and of a country where the
woods were not all pines. And no doubt their hearers try to look as
though they believed it all, but mutter, possibly, some truisms about
soldiers’ stories.
One day in February, 1862, just after the mail-boat had left the fort
not to return until the next day, we saw all about us on the main land
indications that some joyful incident had occurred. All day long flags
were profusely displayed and salutes were fired up and down the coast,
and at night the horizon sparkled with fireworks and bonfires. For
twenty-four hours we were left to guess at the cause of this rejoicing,
but at last we too heard of the capture of Fort Donelson and had our
celebration.
We always gave Colonel Dimmock credit for an act of kind thoughtfulness
on this occasion. When the news came he remembered that he had an
engagement “on shore,” and announced that he should be absent for a
day. “Of course,” he said, “you will fire a salute, and I don’t like
the sound of great guns.” The fact was, no doubt, that he feared that
his presence might be a restraint upon our joviality, and for that
reason he took himself away. There had been no talk of anything except
the salute, but as he left the fort he turned to the Major and said, in
his absent-minded way, “By the by, Major, when the men are allowed a
little unusual liberty, unusual discretion is needed on the part of the
commanding officer, you know.”
From the time required to prepare for that salute, it was evident that
the _Alabama_ might have steamed up the channel and into Boston harbor
before we could have brought any guns to bear upon her, but at noon the
guns were manned and the salute was fired. While the preparations were
in progress, the band-master of the 1st Artillery presented himself
at headquarters to ask a favor. The last gun he had fired was the last
from Fort Sumter, and he now requested permission to fire the first gun
of the salute for the victory. Of course he was allowed to do so, and
he was cheered as he went to his station.
The Colonel was very chary of that band and we had never had any
benefit from it; but the Post being _pro tempore_ under the command
of our Major, they were turned out and made useful. All drills were
suspended for the day. The men, in small parties, were allowed to
stroll outside the walls. Some luxuries were added to the ration. The
band played and the men danced to its music and skylarked generally.
At night there was an illumination, masquerading, and singing, and for
once tattoo did not sound at the time set down in the orders.
A week later a detachment of prisoners from Fort Donelson was added to
our establishment, mostly long, gaunt men, given to wearing sombrero
hats, and chewing tobacco. With this party came Generals Buckner and
Tilghman.
In February too, the last of the private soldiers, held at the fort as
prisoners of war, were sent south to be exchanged. When the transport
was ready for the embarkation, four negroes, servants to officers who
were about to return home, asked to be allowed to accompany their
masters. Colonel Dimmock, becoming satisfied that they preferred to go
back to North Carolina, consented to allow them to do so, but took the
not unnecessary precaution to have other evidence of the fact that
they returned to slavery on their own motion, sending them with his
orderly to the Major with the request that he would examine the “boys”
and satisfy himself as to whether they went of their own accord--which
they certainly did.
As good-weather days became more frequent, our battalion, now of six
companies, settled down more regularly to its work. At the request of
our commanding officer the full code of discipline, with no abatement
because we were volunteers, was the rule by which we were governed, and
no one was more surprised at the result than Colonel Dimmock.
With the end of April, 1862, we had fairly drilled through the book,
and on the first day of May the battalion was reviewed by Governor
Andrew, and exercised in battalion movements in presence of the
Governor and a staff which had become critical in military movements.
At the close of the parade, Colonel Dimmock, who was not wont to abound
in compliments, publicly congratulated the Major as the commander of a
body of thoroughly-disciplined soldiers.
The Union armies were now everywhere victorious, and at the North we
expected every day to hear that the rebels had come to that “last
ditch.” Wearying of the monotony, and in expectation of an early peace,
the Major resigned, and on the 2d of May was relieved from duty and
returned to his business life. To him the parting was unexpectedly
trying, but people cannot be shut up together for five months without
loving or hating each other.
For weeks the duty went on, the command devolving upon Captain
Stephenson, and the warm spring weather and longer days were improved
to the utmost in keeping away the possibility of rust.
The official acceptance of the Major’s resignation had been received
at the Post, but had not been promulgated, when on the night following
Sunday, May 25th, at an hour or more past midnight, a steam tug landed
him at the Post, and a half hour later everybody was awake, and the
fort was alive with the news that since the last sundown the 1st
Battalion had become the 32d Massachusetts Infantry--that Major Parker
was promoted to the Lieutenant Colonelcy--that marching orders had been
received--that Banks had been driven down the Shenandoah Valley--that
Washington was menaced by the forces under Stonewall Jackson--that the
country had again been summoned to the defence of the capital--that at
last our time had come.
Whoever may read these sketches will pardon so much digression as will
be required to describe one of the critical scenes of those exciting
days. Sunday evening, after ten o’clock, this writer was sitting in
his library, having just finished the last cigar before bed-time, when
there came a ring at the doorbell--one of those rings that tell a story
of haste and excitement.
At the door was a messenger, who informed the Major that the Governor
desired to see him without delay, and that a carriage waited his
convenience.
There was a word to say to the wife above stairs--there were boots and
overcoat to be donned, but in two or three minutes the carriage was
whirling through the empty streets, and soon pulled up at the rear
entrance to the Capitol.
In the office of the Adjutant-General was Governor Andrew, busily
writing at his desk and alone. His Excellency had remembered a parting
request upon the occasion of the review, that the 1st Battalion
should not be allowed to go to the front under a stranger’s command.
The Major was shown the dispatches of the night, and in them read a
story of frantic terror at Washington and earnest pleading for speedy
succor. By them the Governor was, within the limits of Massachusetts,
invested with all of the President’s power to command the United States
forces, to raise troops, to transfer garrisons, to provide supplies and
transportation, and through them all ran the tones of extremest panic
and most earnest entreaty for help--speedy help.
The Governor stated his intention under this authority to order away
the six hundred men of the 1st Battalion and offered to reappoint the
commander. The offer was of course accepted and an hour quickly passed
in drawing orders and requisitions, and completing arrangements for
the earliest possible departure of the command. The company of heavy
artillery at Fort Independence was ordered to remove to Fort Warren,
and the independent companies of Cadets were ordered there for garrison
duty. There were orders, too, for levy _en masse_ of the state
militia for active service, and provision made for their equipment,
subsistence, and rapid transportation.
Officers of the Governor’s and of the army staff came and went. Red
tape broke at every order, and during this hour, as also for one nearer
morning, while everybody strove to do his utmost to accomplish results
which seemed almost impossible, Governor Andrew was the busiest of the
workers, radiant with the joy of one who possesses great powers, and
who knows that he is wielding them effectually. All through the night
came over the wires appeals for help and for haste, and always the
Governor was cheery and full of faith, that, although the end might be
farther away than we had hoped, that end would be our success.
* * * * *
It was a night, too, of hard work at Fort Warren--there were rations
to be issued and cooked for the march; there were equipments to
be supplied, knapsacks to be packed, property to be turned over,
unnecessaries to be rid away, and last letters to be written; but
all was done before the relief garrison reported. At noon on Monday
the regiment was relieved, and for the last time passed out of
the sally-port and was on the march--glad to be out of jail, some
said--glad to be moving to the front; all desiring to see that actual
war for which they had passed through long and careful training, and
anxious as new troops can be, for a share in the realities of the
campaign.
And so, embarking on the ferry-boat _Daniel Webster_, we left Fort
Warren, our cradle, with cheers for the good old Colonel, and with all
the verses of the John Brown chorus ringing from six hundred throats to
the accompaniment of our own drum corps.
II.
_ON OUR OWN HOOK._
Sunday, May 25th, 1862, the sun went down on a people rejoicing in
the confident expectation of coming victory and an early peace. That
sun next rose on a population deeply agitated with news of military
disaster, but more warlike and more determined than ever. The appeals
of the War Office at Washington, and the summons of our own Governor,
met with an enthusiastic response; the militia flocked to the
rendezvous in Boston, and the city scenes were almost a repetition of
the Lexington Day of the previous year.
Not knowing that the Regiment was expected to appear on the Common, but
knowing that our orders were urgent, the 32d marched by the most direct
route through the city and to the railway, its wide platoons occupying
the full space in the widest streets, bearing no flag, marching to
its own field music, everywhere cheered by the excited populace, and
drawing attention and applause by its unpretentious but soldierly
appearance.
At the Old Colony station, where a train was waiting, we stacked
for the last time our smooth-bore muskets, and turned them over
to Quartermaster McKim. A long delay, occasioned by the unexpected
celerity of our movements, gave officers and men an opportunity to
exchange greetings with and take leave of their friends, of whom the
vast crowd seemed chiefly to be composed.
There were meetings and partings between parents and children, husbands
and wives, brothers and sisters; there were friends of the men who
desired to enlist and to go with them, and others who asked brief
furloughs for those they loved, that the suddenness of departure might
be a little softened to those at home; but on the part of the soldiers
there were no such applications. There were messages from many a
quivering lip, sent to those who had not heard of the marching orders;
there was grasping of hands, man with man, which meant more than
tongues could say; and wives were folded by husband’s arms so tenderly
as may never be but either in days of early love or at the approach of
final separation.
And yet there was no cloud of sadness in the scene; on every side
were words of cheer and encouragement--of loving hope and patriotic
devotion; and when a light-hearted soldier, whose home was so far away
that none of his kin were there to say good-bye, asked if there was
nobody there to kiss him, he came near being smothered by a crowd of
volunteers ready to officiate, not only for his mother, but for all the
rest of his female ancestry.
At last came the regimental stores, for which we had waited, and with
the call for “all aboard,” the last ties were broken, the last cheers
were given, and the train drew slowly out from the station and from
the city. But not away from tokens of good will. The country, too, was
alive. Flags were streaming from every flag-staff, waving from the
windows of the houses, and drooping from the spires of churches.
Men, women, and children of all ages were at cottage doors and roadway
crossings, and crowded the platforms at every station, to say or wave
good-bye and God-speed to the foremost of the transport trains. We were
soon at Fall River, on the steamer, and weary with excitement, the men
speedily turned in and slept.
For us there was next day no Broadway parade in New York city, but
landing at Jersey City there was a haversack breakfast, and after
some delay, another train, and we were off for Philadelphia, through
a country whose people, in hamlet and in town, cheered the unknown
soldiery, who all day long poured through toward the seat of war. At
Philadelphia we shared the bounteous hospitality of the citizens,
who provided most thoughtfully for all the troops who passed their
gates. There was a long march through wide and straight streets, then
another railway embarkation, and then a long, tedious, hesitating ride,
reaching through the night, and it was early morning when we arrived at
Baltimore and woke the drowsy people with the sound of Yankee Doodle
as we marched through to the Washington railway. Here we found the
7th New York militia waiting in the street for transportation to the
Capital. More successful than they, we secured a train, which, after
several hours, delivered us safely in Washington, where we were glad
to learn that we were the first troops to arrive on the call of the
President, and that again Massachusetts was in the advance.
Then followed a prolonged struggle with red tape, which would have
told us, even if there had been no other source of information, that
the scare was over and Washington safe. Before we could present our
requisitions for camp equipage, the office hours had passed, the
officials were deaf to all our entreaties, and although we arrived
as early as 2 P. M., we were compelled that night to occupy the hard
floors of one of the railway buildings.
When we came to look about us we were surprised to find that ours
was the only infantry regiment at Washington, and we were poor
lone orphans. We wanted tents, supplies, and a wagon train, but
our requisitions were denied, because our Brigadier General had
not endorsed his approval. We attempted to explain that we had no
Brigadier, and all Staff-dom stood aghast,--unable to take in the idea
that there could be such a thing as a regiment with no brigadier.
Verily, we might have died of starvation but for the kindness of
Adjutant General Townsend, who officially made a special order from the
headquarters of the army, to suit our case, and personally suggested
a site near the Washington Navy Yard, known as Camp Alexander, as a
convenient locality for our camp. The site was inspected, approved,
and speedily occupied by us, and here passed four weeks of halcyon
days. Our camp was pitched on a high bluff overlooking the eastern
branch of the Potomac. The air was that of balmy June. No brigadier
worried us--no up-and-away orders disturbed us, and thanks to General
Townsend’s special order, our supplies were ample and regular.
But it was no idle time. A battalion which had always been restricted
to the limits of an island fort, had occasion for much new practice,
and the drills went briskly on. Especially was there need for
practising in the use of legs, before marching orders should come, and
therefore, every other day the drills of the battalion comprised also a
march, growing longer day by day, until an eight-mile march was easily
accomplished.
Our evening parades became quite an attraction for visitors.
Congressmen, senators, and even cabinet secretaries came to be frequent
guests, and the sunshine of ladies’ presence, unknown to our previous
experience, gave brilliancy to our lines and encouragement to our men.