American phrase, under martial law. The great army, which a few months
earlier had given to the district the appearance of a military camp,
had moved on toward Richmond. One column was wading up the Peninsular,
one was watching in the Shenandoah Valley, one was guarding the
Piedmont Gaps, while McDowell, on the banks of the Rappahannock, was
waiting the turn of events, and hoping for orders to join the force
under McClellan, and so on to Richmond.
The chain of detached forts about the Capital, were, however, fully
garrisoned, and in the city a force of cavalry was doing the work
of a provost guard. Mounted sentinels were stationed at the street
corners, and detachments patrolled the outlying wards. The railway
station was guarded, and passengers leaving town were obliged to pass
the inspection of the soldiery. At the depots of the commissary’s and
the quartermaster’s stores, at the entrances to hospitals, about the
offices of the departments, and at the door of the Executive Mansion,
sentries were posted day and night. One was rarely out of sight and
hearing of officers and orderlies, as they galloped over the rough
pavements or trailed their sabres on the walks, and everywhere came
and went the springless supply-wagons of the army, with their six-mule
teams and postilion drivers.
All this appearance of military rule and ward was no useless show.
The city was full of enemies and spies. A large part of the resident
population was hostile to the North. Very frequently at the approach of
uniformed men, ladies gathered their skirts to prevent contaminating
touch, and children shook their tiny fists and made grimaces of dislike.
If there seemed to be exceptional cases where officers were welcomed
by secessionists, men or women, the attentions were apt to end in
a request for aid to procure passes through our lines, or in wily
cross-examination about posts or movements of the troops. There was but
little tinsel; except at the barracks of the marine corps, where old
traditions were preserved, there were no epaulettes, no chapeaux, no
plumes, but everything spoke of real war service.
He who visits Washington now will find it hard to realize that that
beautiful capital is the same as the dust and mud-covered town of 1862.
He who has known it only as the beleaguered city of the war, would
almost fail to recognize it in its changed condition.
It seemed at times as if we had been lost or forgotten by the war
department; but an occasional order, or the call for some report,
betrayed a semi-consciousness of our existence. None of the authorities
could take in the idea that we had only six companies, and when a
funeral escort was wanted for the body of Lieutenant-Colonel Palmer,
of the engineers, the order came to detail six companies, under a
Lieutenant-Colonel, for that duty, and our commanding officer thereupon
detailed himself and his full command.
This escort was, in all our history, the only instance of show duty.
Our newly-joined Assistant-Surgeon Faxon, with such daring as could
come only from raw ignorance, volunteered to take the compliments of
our commander to the General commanding the Marine Corps, and to ask
for the loan of his celebrated band. Whether the General was stunned
by our impudence or flattered by the Doctor’s blandishments, may never
be known, but the request was complied with, and our march through the
crowded city was made dazzling by the great band, with their plumed
caps, scarlet coats, white trowsers, and gorgeous equipments.
Every point of military etiquette was observed in the ceremonial;
the command was in the best of condition, and we heard with great
satisfaction the favorable comments from the crowds that thronged our
way. “It takes the regulars,” “volunteers never could do that,” etc.
And no doubt as we marched back to our camp of spacious tents, with the
full assurance of ample rations prepared by company cooks awaiting our
arrival, our breasts swelled with undue pride, for we saw in the future
no premonitions of the tattered and hungry crew, who bearing our name
and number, were to assist in puddling down the sacred soil of Virginia.
Within the limits of our camp was a small and old cottage house, which
being entirely unoccupied, we took for our hospital use. Although
nearly worthless for any purpose, the owner was hunted up and the
endeavor was made to come to a settlement with him and pay rent during
its occupancy, but the proprietor declined even to name a price, giving
as his reason that he could get more by making a claim for it before
the department, after we were gone.
At this hospital we first lost a man from our ranks by death. Hiram
Varney of Gloucester, a plucky fellow, although too ill to have left
the Fort, prevailed upon the post surgeon to allow him to go with the
Regiment, but worn with the excitement and fatigue of the march, he
fell into typhus fever and died. He was a soldier to the last. So long
as he could raise his hand, he endeavored to salute his officers who
came to the cotside, and when told of approaching death, he regretted
that it had not been his fate to meet it in battle.
There were other incidents not so lugubrious. The waters of the Branch
washed the foot of the bluff on which our camp was pitched, and when
the days grew exceeding hot, Surgeon Adams advised that bathing should
be prohibited through the heat of the day. Accordingly an order was
published, appointing the hours for morning and evening bathing, and
forbidding it at other times.
At noon one blistering hot day, two men being overtempted by the cool
waters, were in the act of enjoying a stolen bath, when the sergeant
with a file of the guard appeared and ordered the bathers to the shore.
Upon coming to land, they found to their disgust that their clothing
had preceded them to the guard tent. Attended by the sergeant and his
men, the culprits were marched _in puris_ up the bluff and through the
whole length of the parade ground, running the gauntlet of the jokes
and gibes of their comrades, who turned out in force to enjoy the
exhibition.
For a day or two after our arrival the cows of our secession neighbors
were very troublesome. Turned out by their owners after milking in the
morning, a herd of some twenty-five or thirty head fed through the day
along the waste grounds of that part of Washington City, and returned
at evening to their cribs. Both going and coming they habitually passed
through our lines, and about among the tents, causing some trouble to
the police guard, and much annoyance to the men. Sentinels could not
leave their posts to chase cows, and no provision was to be found in
the tactics or regulations applicable to this case. A provision was
therefore invented. At noon a notice was posted at the guard tent,
stating that thereafter it might be presumed that any cows found within
the limits of the camp were sent thither by their owners, in order that
the men should supply themselves with fresh milk.
When the herd returned that evening there was exhibited a scene which
defies description. Upon each cow there attended upon the average about
five men, who with soothing words and quieting gestures, sought an
opportunity to drain the happy beeves! A view of the camp was one of a
confusing medley of cows, and of men with tin cups, slowly and quietly
but almost continually waltzing about in every direction. All their
exertions must have resulted in a considerable success, for the herd
troubled us no more.
The guard served with loaded rifles, and when relieved were marched
to a convenient spot by the waterside, where they emptied their guns
one by one, firing at a target; and to encourage careful practice,
he who made the best shot was allowed a furlough for the rest of the
day. It was of course a matter of interest to the officers to watch
the practice and the improvement of the men. On one occasion after
the guard practice was ended, the Colonel desiring to test the new
pieces, took a rifle from the sergeant, and by some accident his bullet
hit the bull’s eye of the target. He was complimented and perhaps a
little surprised by the unanimous shout from the old guard, “give him a
furlough.”
The East Branch here must have been not far from a quarter of a mile
wide. Our shore, as has been stated, was a high bluff, but the opposite
bank was a low interval, cultivated as a market garden, and near the
river stood the unpretentious cottage of the cultivator. As the colonel
sat one day at his tent door, in such position that the edge of the
bluff showed in sharp relief against the blue waters of the branch,
there appeared coming up over the cliff, escorted by a corporal, a
semblance of Neptune arising from the Sea. It was after all only the
garden farmer from over the river. He had crossed in his punt, and his
resemblance to Neptune was owing in part to his sailor-like form and
hat, but more to the precaution he had taken to bring his paddle along
with him.
His errand at headquarters was to complain that the rifle balls at the
time of target practice had a disagreeable way of glancing over the
water and whistling about his premises, and he asked meekly if this
could not be avoided, as it “made the women-folks nervous.” Of course
his wish was granted, and thereafter the guard discharged their rifles
at a target in the bank on our side of the water. This compliance with
his request resulted in a second appearance of our Neptune, who at
this time brought two boxes of choice strawberries as a present to the
commanding officer, and an expression of his thanks, to which he added
the statement that there never had been such a regiment encamped near
him,--“they were all gentlemen.” We wondered what kind of troops had
preceded us, that we rose so high in his good graces merely because
we refrained from shooting at his women-folks,--but the berries were
thankfully accepted and warmly appreciated in the mess.
It was about this time that this delicious berry became so plentiful
that three hundred quarts were issued as a special ration to the men.
June 24, 1862. Orders were received to move over to Alexandria, where
a new brigade comprising the 32d was to be organized; the order stated
that the Regiment would be met at Alexandria by a staff officer who
would conduct us to our camping ground.
Alexandria being a township about ten miles in length, the order
was rather indefinite, but we marched to the town where we found no
brigadier, no brigade, and no staff officer, and thereupon we proceeded
to make an excursion through the township in search of one of them. We
soon found an aide-de-camp who conducted us to the locality intended,
and pointed out the ground assigned to us, which was half a mile from
any water.
This, our first real march, is worthy of notice, as being almost the
only one which was made without loss by straggling, and the only one
made in accordance with army regulations.
Six months afterward, when the allowance of wagons was only three to
each regiment, we laughed as we remembered the twenty-three wagons
which were required for this first movement of ours. Our route covered
sixteen miles, when, if the order had been decently explicit, only
eight miles would have been required, but we soon learned that it
was one of the customs of the service to make the orders as blind as
possible.
Before nightfall our camp was made and our guards posted. No military
authority had ever notified us of a countersign, we therefore as usual
made our own, and consequently before morning bagged a half dozen of
the officers from the neighboring forts, who were ignorant of it.
A Rhode Island Regiment, (Colonel Bliss’,) and one from Pennsylvania
arrived the next day, and for several days we were in constant
expectation of a brigadier, but before he turned up, June 29th,
an order came for the 32d to be mustered early on the 30th by its
commanding officer, and thereafter to proceed forthwith to Alexandria,
where transportation would be in readiness to take the command to Fort
Monroe. At 11 A. M., we were in the street at Alexandria with all our
baggage train, but the General commanding there was drunk, the Post
Quartermaster insolent, and nobody had ever heard anything about us or
our transportation. After waiting until 4 P. M., receiving no orders
nor even replies from Washington to our telegrams, we concluded to
operate on our own hook, and when the Steamer _Hero_ came to a landing
near by, we took possession of her as a “military necessity,” coaled
her and started for our destination.
We found the aforesaid “military necessity” to be a poor shattered
concern, already deeply laden with ammunition. The captain and crew
were not in an amiable frame of mind at being so unceremoniously
gobbled up. They refused to allow the men to make coffee at the boiler
fires, and when ordered to do so, the engineers and firemen left their
posts in high dudgeon; but when they found that we had a plenty of men
competent to run the boat, and that it was their rations, not ours,
that were stopped, they very submissively returned to their duty.
We arrived at Fort Monroe early on the 2d of July, and reported to
General Dix, commanding that post. Here we heard of the seven days
fighting across the Peninsula, and found the air full of exciting and
contradictory rumors as to the incidents and result of the battles.
Even General Dix had no precise information as to the whereabouts of
General McClellan, but he knew that he wanted more men and wanted them
quick, and we were directed without disembarking to proceed up the
river until we found the army. Facilities were provided for cooking
the necessary rations, and early in the afternoon, after receiving
repeated injunctions to take every precaution against falling into the
hands of the enemy, we weighed anchor and steamed away up the James.
Our heavily-laden boat could not make the distance by daylight, and
we passed the night at anchor in the river, with steam up and a large
guard on duty, and with the early dawn were again underweigh, in search
of the army.
To this time the Regiment had practically lived by itself; it had known
nothing of generals, and not much of army men, but the time had come
when it was to be absorbed into the army as a drop into the ocean.
III.
_ON THE PENINSULA._
It was yet early morning when we steamed over Harrison Bar, and saw
evidences of the vicinity of the Army of the Potomac. We had previously
met quite a number of steamboats bound down the river, apparently
heavily loaded with passengers; and now, as the river widened out into
a lake or bay, we came upon a large fleet of various kinds of crafts,
freighted with ordnance, quartermaster’s and commissary stores, some
at anchor in the river, and some hauled up to the left bank unloading
their freight. The river banks were too high to enable us to see
beyond, but all along them were men sitting or lying on the slopes, or
bathing in the water. There were teams of mules driven down to drink,
and wagoners using heavy whips and great oaths to persuade their beasts
to draw the loaded wains up the rough tracks, cut diagonally into the
faces of the bank.
As our steamer entered upon this stirring scene the musicians were
ordered to the bows of the boat, and we moved on with our drums beating
cheerily. We passed one long wharf, reaching out into the river, and
thereabout saw a few tents and great piles of stores on the shore;
then pushing our reconnoissance up the river, saw the army signs
gradually disappear from the banks, until at length opening a reach of
the river we could see the gunboats, the slow booming of whose guns had
been heard long before; and here a guard-boat hailed to warn us to go
no farther.
Satisfied that the wharf, which we had passed, was the proper place for
our landing, we turned and steamed slowly in that direction. Presently
a boat put off from the bank with an officer who signalled for the
steamer to stop, came alongside, and delivered to our Colonel a torn
fragment of a second-hand and soiled envelope, on which, in pencil, was
scrawled the following order, our first from the headquarters of the
Army of the Potomac:--
_“To commanding officer of troops on steamer. Land your men at once and
move direct up the road, and report to me at my headquarters, where you
will be stopped. Come up with arms and ammunition (40 or 60 cartridges
each man)._
_“This order is from General McClellan._
_“F. J. PORTER, Brig. Gen.”_
In obedience to the order we hauled up to the wharf, and the men being
already supplied with ammunition, but little time was lost in forming
upon the pier. Leaving there a few men to unload and guard the baggage,
we moved up to the shore.
It is General Trochu who writes, that upon approaching an army from the
rear in time of battle, one always sees the same sights, conveying
to one’s mind the idea of a disorderly mob, and the fear of a great
disaster. Our approach to the Army of the Potomac was from the rear in
time of battle, and our experience confirms Trochu.
At the head of the wharf a mass of men were striving to pass the guard,
hoping to get away on the steamer which had brought us. Passing them,
we looked for the road up which we were ordered to move “direct.” In
every direction, and as far as we could see, the soil which twenty-four
hours before had been covered with promising crops of almost ripened
grain, was trodden into a deep clay mud,--so deep and so adhesive as,
in several cases, to pull the boots and stockings from the soldiers’
feet, and so universal as to have obliterated every sign of the
original road. Everywhere were swarms of men in uniform, tattered
and spattered with mud, but with no perceptible organization, wading
through the pasty ground. On and near the river bank were open boxes,
barrels, casks, and bags of provision and forage, from which each man
supplied himself without the forms of requisition, issue, or receipt.
Everywhere too were mule-wagon teams struggling in the mire, and the
air resounded with the oaths of the drivers, the creaking of the
wagons, the voices of men shouting to each other, the bray of hungry
mules, and the noise of bugle and drum calls, with an accompaniment of
artillery firing on land and water.
To all these were added, when we appeared, shouts, not of hearty
welcome and encouragement, such as we might naturally have expected
from an overtasked army to its first reinforcement, but in derision
of our clean dress and exact movements--warnings of terrible things
awaiting us close at hand--questions as to how our patriotism was
now--not one generous cheer.
Officers and men alike joined in this unseemly behavior, and even now
when we know, as we did not then, the story of the terrible days of
battle through which they had passed, and the sufferings that they had
patiently endured, we cannot quite forgive their unmannerly reception
of a recruiting force.
Through all this we succeeded in finding General Porter’s headquarters,
and by his direction were guided to a position a mile or more distant,
and placed in line of battle with other troops in face of a thick
wood, and then learned that we were assigned to the brigade of General
Charles Griffin, division of General Morell, in Fitz John Porter’s,
afterward known as the Fifth army corps.
As soon as we were fairly in position our Colonel sought for the
brigadier. The result was not exactly what his fancy may have painted.
On a small heap of tolerably clean straw he found three or four
officers stretched at full length, not very clean in appearance and
evidently well nigh exhausted in condition. One of them, rather more
piratical looking than the others, owned that he was General Griffin,
and endeavored to exhibit some interest in the addition to his command,
but it was very reluctantly that he acceded to the request that he
would show himself to the Regiment, in order that they might be able to
recognize their brigade commander.
After a time however, the General mounted and rode to the head of our
column of divisions. The Colonel ordered “attention” and the proper
salute, and said: “Men, I want you to know and remember General
Griffin, our Brigadier General.” Griffin’s address was perhaps the most
elaborate he had ever made in public. “We’ve had a tough time men, and
it is not over yet, but we have whaled them every time and can whale
them again.”
Our men, too well disciplined to cheer in the ranks, received the
introduction and the speech, so far as was observed, in soldierly
silence, but months afterward the General told that he heard a response
from one man in the ranks who said, “Good God! is that fellow a
general.” We all came to know him pretty well in time, and to like him
too, and some of us to mourn deeply when he died of the fever in Texas,
after the surrender.
The officers of our Field and Staff found in the edge of the wood just
in front of the Regiment, a spot somewhat drier than the average, and
occupied it, but not without opposition. A long and very muddy corporal
was gently slumbering there, and on waking, recognized his disturbers
by their clean apparel as new comers, and thought they might be raw.
Pointing to an unexploded shell which lay near him on the ground, he
calmly advised the officers not to stop there, as “a good many of
them things had been dropping in all the morning.” His strategy proved
unsuccessful, for he was ranked out of his comfortable quarters and
told to join his regiment.
After all, the day passed without an engagement, and the sound of guns
gradually died away, until near evening, when the Brigade was moved
about two miles away and bivouacked in a wood of holly trees, the
men making beds of green corn-stalks, and going to them singing and
laughing.
After the excitement of the day all slept soundly, but before midnight
the Colonel was aroused by an orderly to receive a circular order
which stated that owing to certain movements of the enemy, commanding
officers were to hold their commands on the alert. Not knowing what
commanding officers were expected to do when they “held their commands
on the alert,” the Colonel accompanied the General’s orderly to the
headquarters of the 9th Massachusetts near by, and waited while its
commander was aroused, and until he had perused the same order.
Observing that after reading it the veteran quietly turned over and
settled himself for a fresh nap, our Colonel returned to his repose,
merely taking the precaution to have the horses saddled and bridled,
by which bit of innocent faith in orders for alert, he lost the use of
his saddle which had made an excellent pillow. The next day we received
our baggage and moved out of the wood, pitching our camp in regulation
shape.
I fear that the display of a full allowance of round Fremont tents may
have caused some heart burnings among our neighbors, who had nothing
but shelter tents. It is certain that they were still inclined to
scoff at our peculiarities, and already the demoralizing effect of the
prevalent negligence was felt in our ranks, for one of our captains,
always before rather distinguished for the nicety of his dress, soon
appeared splashed with mud from head to foot, and when asked why he did
not remove it, he pleaded that it was the uniform of the Army of the
Potomac.
* * * * *
Whoever, without a vast preponderance of forces, makes war to capture
Richmond, must have the James River for his base of supply and must be
able to control Harrison Landing.
When the campaign of the Army of the Potomac began, the iron-clad
Merrimac barred access to the James, and the Army, which by way
of that River might, without delay or loss, have flanked Magruder
back to Malvern Hill, landed at Harrison’s and operated on Richmond
over a healthy and dry country, comparatively free from natural
obstacles,--was compelled to resort to the narrow and tortuous
Pamunkey, and to flounder among swamps and river crossings, always
exposed to fight at disadvantage, and always weakened physically and
mentally by the malaria of the marshes.