the mind of General McClellan reverted to his original preference. For
a long time he waited and stretched out his right wing to facilitate
junction with McDowell, but when the last hope of that aid had
disappeared, he hastened to abandon the Pamunkey for the broader and
safer James. The movement was actually in progress when Johnston
attacked what was already the rear of McClellan’s column. During each
day of that battle-week, the trains moved and the army fought, and
every night the army abandoned the scene of a successful defence to
close in upon the banks of the river, where alone they could hope for
the supplies which they needed and the repose they had won.
The day before we joined, these rough and grimy troops had fought
at Malvern perhaps the hardest of their fights, and had won the
most complete of all their victories. And now they were again in
communication with the North--in possessions of the very key to
Richmond--holding Lee as it were by a cord from any movement North,
and needing only the assistance of a tithe of the new levies to drive
or flank him further south. But it pleased God that this should not be
until years had passed away.
If there be on the face of the earth a place intended for breeding
pestilence, the country about Harrison’s and Westover was ordained
to that use. One of our officers who had travelled the wide world
all over, declared that the climate resembled no place except Sierra
Leone on the African coast. Its reputation as an unwholesome spot is
established even among the natives of Virginia, and whoever desires any
additional testimony, need only to apply to one who has sweltered there
through July and August.
To the natural disadvantages of the locality, were now added those many
sources of sickness which always accompany an army. The effect of the
climate was not only debilitating to the body, but was enervating to
the will, and negligence of proper precautions against camp diseases
was added to all other predisposing causes in reducing the strength of
the army.
The 32d, almost fresh from the sea air of New England, suffered
undoubtedly more than those regiments which had been in some degree
acclimated. Almost every officer and man was affected. For weeks over
one-third of the command was on the sick list, and not less than a
hundred and fifty men who then left the Regiment for hospital or on
sick leave, never returned to our colors.
Such a mixture of moisture and drouth, of mud and dust, cannot be
conceived. The air was filled at times with an impalpable dust which
was actually a visible malaria. The marsh near our camp was beautiful
to see, white with its vast numbers of plants like lilies which threw
up great spikes of flowers, but the excess of perfume was so sickening
as but little to be preferred to the odor of carrion, which came to us
when the wind changed to the westward.
Men sickened and died in a day, and the whole Regiment lost its brisk
military ways and degenerated very nearly to the shiftless, listless
level of the rest of the army. Drills could not be kept up, parades
were discontinued, and the attention of the officers was concentrated
upon the preservation of cleanliness in the camp, the improvement of
the food, and the necessary duties. Here occurred the first death among
our officers, for Lieutenant Nathaniel French, jr., died August 9th of
the malarial fever.
Large details were made from the Regiment for guards, our reputation
for that duty having become unpleasantly good. Eighty men and three
officers were at one time serving as guards over the quartermaster’s
stores, on the river bank. It was while they were there, that
enterprising John Reb. brought some field pieces down to Coggins’
Point, just opposite to us on the James, and opened fire about
midnight, first upon the shipping in the river, and afterward upon our
camps.
Two of the officers of our detached party, after the freshness of the
alarm had passed, were sitting in their shelter tent with their feet
to the foe, watching as they would any pyrotechnic display, the flash
of the guns, and the curves described by the burning fuses, when one
of the guns was turned and discharged, as it seemed, directly at our
friends, who, dodging at the same moment, struck their heads together
and fell, each under the impression that the enemy’s shell had struck
him.
It was on this occasion that Colonel Sawtelle, the officer in charge
of the transportation--our quartermaster said he was the only regular
officer within his experience who could do his duty and be civil
too--emerged from his tent at the sound of firing and stood upon the
bank gazing silently and sorrowfully upon his defenceless fleet, among
which the shells were exploding merrily. Soon his silence broke into a
shout to his superior, “Look here Ingalls, if this thing isn’t stopped
pretty quick, the A. P. is a busted concern.”
In the regimental camp a half mile away, the shelling did no serious
damage, but produced some commotion. One of the officers complained
that every time that he got comfortably settled for sleep, a shell
would knock the pillow out from under his head; in emulation of which
story, a sailor in D Company declared that he slept through the whole
affair, but in the morning counted twenty-three solid shot piled up
against his back, that hit but had not waked him.
Nearly two months had elapsed since we left Massachusetts with the
promise that the four Companies required to complete our Regiment
should be speedily recruited and forwarded, but we heard nothing of
them. The home newspapers told of the 33d Regiment as being full, and
of the 34th and 35th as in process of formation, but the 32d seemed
to have been forgotten. The Lieutenant Colonel addressed a letter to
the Governor upon the subject, and forwarded a copy of his letter
to the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac. Within twenty-four
hours an order was published in which, among others, was the name
of our commanding officer as detailed on recruiting service. Upon
application to Adjutant General Williams for an explanation of the
detail, he learned that the order meant that he was to go for those
four companies, and leaving Captain Stephenson, who for a long time had
been Acting Major, in command, the Colonel went to Massachusetts on
recruiting duty, from which duty, to the best of his knowledge, he has
to this day never been relieved.
He was barely gone before Company G reported, commanded by Captain
Charles Bowers--Charles O. Shepard being First Lieutenant, and Edward
T. Bouvé, Second Lieutenant. When we got far enough away from the
depressing effect of that infamous climate, and attained sufficient
animation to joke, we used to call this Company our second battalion.
There may occur no better place than this for a brief dissertation
concerning the high and deep mysteries which hung about
quartermastering.
When we were at the Fort, the officers--who, by regulation, were
allowed a certain number of candles per month--expressed a very
unanimous preference for kerosene lamps, which had then recently come
in vogue. Lamps, wicks, and oil were benignantly supplied by the
quartermaster at the Post, but at the end of a month that officer
presented for approval and signature, requisitions and receipts for
many candles. We dreamed of a nice job at court-martial on the Q. M.,
but soon learned that by a fiction of the department, no light was
recognized other than that of candles, and receipts given for candles
covered lamps, wicks, chimneys, and oil.
Whether the Quartermasters’ Department has yet discovered the use of
petroleum, who can tell? Our Quartermaster Pearson never joined the
Regiment after it left Massachusetts, but was detailed principally
in charge of matters at the recruiting post and camp at Readville.
Lieutenant Hoyt of B Company was detailed and served for several years
as acting quartermaster. When he was detailed the term of his detail
was of course problematical, and there was too much uncertainty, as
he thought, to justify the investment required for the purchase of a
horse; but he must ride. With that straightforwardness which comes from
innocence and ignorance alike, a requisition was made upon the proper
officer for a saddle and horse for the use of the quartermaster.
If we had stolen the military chest of the army no greater outcry
could have been made; the application was rejected with contumely. For
the next day or two Quartermaster Hoyt appeared to be absorbed in the
study of the rules and regulations, articles of war, and circulars of
his department. From this course of reading he emerged with unclouded
brow and a new requisition. This time it was for an ambulance, a
horse, and a harness, to which every battalion was entitled, and the
articles required were promptly delivered. Two days later he returned
the ambulance and harness as not wanted, and kept the horse, which
was always ridden by the quartermaster; but was always known as the
ambulance horse.
It is a little in advance of our main story, but it may as well be told
here how Hoyt flanked the Division Quartermaster. When the regimental
property was unloaded from the transport at Acquia Creek, and only
the afternoon before we marched, it was found that one of our wagons
was sick in a hind wheel, and as it was almost sure to break down if
the wagon was loaded, our quartermaster endeavored to turn it in to
the Division Quartermaster, and to obtain a sound wagon in its place.
There were plenty of new wagons in the Division depot, but the officer
was ugly and refused the exchange; when it was persistently urged, the
superior grew wroth and vowed vows, and told our quartermaster that he
wouldn’t get any wagon out of him, and that he might help himself if he
could.
Hoyt did help himself that night by taking, under cover of the
darkness, a sound wheel from a wagon in the Division train, and putting
our rotten one in its place. There was a great row after we started
next morning about the breaking down of a wagon, but our train was all
right.
Not many days after our arrival at Harrison’s Landing, July 8th,
President Lincoln visited and reviewed the army. Having faith--in some
respects resembling a mustard seed--we believe that he reviewed the
32d. What we know is, that after waiting in position with the whole of
our division, from four o’clock in the afternoon until nine o’clock in
the evening, during the last three hours of which time we mourned our
delayed suppers, and possibly spoke evil of dignities, we saw in the
uncertain moonlight a party of horsemen ride along our front, one of
whom sat his horse like Andrew Jackson, and wore a stove-pipe hat, and
then we were allowed to go to our camp and our rations.
Where there are no newspapers, rumors are always plenty, and the army
abounded in rumors. One day it was reported that our corps was to
cross the river and march on Petersburg; another day we were told the
army was about to move on Richmond, and that we were to assault Fort
Darling. General Hooker made a reconnoissance in the direction of
Malvern, and it was immediately reported that he had penetrated the
defences of Richmond.
For two weeks orders were received almost daily with regard to the
removal of the sick, and the disposal of camp equipage and all extra
baggage, and rumors grew more and more wild and contradictory. After
the fearful ordeal of the malarial sickness, it is not surprising that
the intimation that the army was about to enter upon a new campaign was
hailed with something akin to delight, even by those who realized the
dangers of battle, and the toil of more active service. At last the
orders came for the movement, and it was not upon Petersburg, or Fort
Darling, or Richmond, but toward Fort Monroe.
The orders found us ready and exceedingly willing to leave a spot
crowded with sad and bitter experience, such as we can not even now
recall without a thrill almost of horror.
The marches of the 32d Regiment might claim quite as much place, if
not more, in its history, than the battles in which it took part, but
they would hardly be as attractive to the reader. At all events the
incidents of a march, exciting or not, stand a much better chance of
accurate narration than those of a battle where haste may obscure the
memory, and passion confuse the description.
In military campaigns as in civil life, patience and endurance will win
as against courage and _elan_. The first are the qualities of highest
value in marches, the second are those conspicuous in battle. And it
may be safely said, that the qualities in soldiers which make good
marching, are rarer than those which make good fighting. At least the
troops which the General will prize the most are those which march the
best: _i. e._, those in whom either _esprit-du-corps_ or discipline
is strong enough to prevent straggling on toilsome marches. Those
who marched in good form, and came into bivouac at night with full
ranks were sure to be ready and available at the moment of battle,
whether they fought well or not; and per contra, it was frequently
observed that those regiments that straggled most upon the march, were
conspicuous among the great army of “bummers” at the rear in the time
of battle, and, if engaged with the enemy, were the first to break into
rout and dismay.
Now as the 32d Massachusetts was on many occasions rather conspicuous
for good solid marching, that fact should not be forgotten in its
history.
On the morning of a march the question usually was, “Who has the
advance to-day?” In a succession of days’ marching, the regiments took
turns in leading, according to an established rule. Breakfast over,
the bugle sounded, first at Division-headquarters, then at brigade,
and last at each regiment, everybody fell into his place, and the
bugle sounded again “forward.” After many halts and hitches, unless we
happened to be at the head of the column, we finally swung into the
regular marching gait. This was not fast, rarely exceeding three miles
an hour and oftener two miles or thereabouts, including halts.
The manner and method of the march,--with its object there was seldom
any disposition to meddle,--were often severely criticised both by
men and officers. For instance, a day’s march of which the objective
point might be quite distant, say 25 or 30 miles, would be begun
before daylight, and then conducted in great part as though there was
no fixed intention of going any where at all. This would be a ground
for grumbling. Marching out of a comfortable camp at midnight, moving
only a little way, and then halting and lying round without orders for
hours, then moving again at day-break at a snail’s pace, without having
broken our fast, and keeping on in this way until near noon, with no
orders for halt and breakfast; and thus on through a whole livelong
day of heat or dust, or it might be of snow or rains or chilling
winds, until late in the afternoon; horses not fed or unsaddled, men
with blankets and equipments on, flinging themselves on the ground
at every wait as if in disgust. Here was more ground for grumbling.
At length late in the afternoon, when patience and strength were all
but exhausted, we would strike into a pace of three miles or more an
hour, which would be kept up hour after hour without a moment’s rest.
Then would begin the straggling, men would throw away their overcoats
and blankets as too burdensome to carry, although the loss might be
bitterly regretted at the next bivouac, and would make their fires,
rest and cook their coffee, under the very guns of the enemy, in
defiance of danger of death or capture, and in spite of command or
threats of court-martial. The regimental column would be reduced to
the size of a company, and the men would be found strewed along the
roadside, sick or used up, many not rejoining their companies until the
bugles sounded “forward” on the following day. This style of marching
was frequent in the earlier campaigns of the Army of the Potomac,
but was afterwards much amended and improved upon. An excellent rule
adopted at a later period was to march the column steadily for one
hour, and then call a halt on the bugle for ten or fifteen minutes.
But the important point of so ordering a march that the column should
move rapidly during the cool hours of the morning and evening, halting
for an hour or two at noon, was seldom reached. It is presumable
that in many, perhaps in most cases, marches were made loitering and
toilsome, (as above described,) by unavoidable and obvious causes.
The insufficiency of the roads, there being but one, or their bad
condition, crowding the way with cattle sometimes driven in the line
of march; troops going to the rear with prisoners, or passing to the
front; skirmishing with the enemy; difficult fords, or broken bridges,
or the laying of pontoons; all these, or any of them, might cause
delay. Or orders might require the troops to be hurried forward, and
the march, too hastily begun, would be impeded by crowding or by the
necessity of cavalry, artillery, or ammunition being sent forward.
To sketch a march is an exceedingly difficult thing because there is
presented to the observer such a multitude of features, none of which
can be slighted or left out; and these features are so varied, and
present themselves in such endless succession and constantly changing
interest, that the mind becomes confused.
On the occasion of our first march with the Army of the Potomac, the
men, in the worst possible condition to support fatigue, weakened
by sickness, softened by six weeks of inaction, and enervated by a
debilitating climate, were marched out of camp at about midnight, then
halted and kept in expectation of immediate departure for seven hours,
then when the mid-summer sun had attained nearly its full heat, were
put upon the route, and with no formal halt, but with much hesitation
and frequent delay, were kept in the column fourteen weary hours.
At eleven o’clock at night, on the 15th, the Captain commanding reached
the end of the day’s march on the left bank of the Chickahominy, and
encamped with less than thirty men, who alone had been able to keep
up with the column. All night long the men came toiling in, and by the
next daylight nearly all had again joined the command.
From this by easier marches, passing Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Big
Bethel, we arrived August 19th at Newport News. Each day’s march showed
better results--officers and men gaining in health and strength as they
increased their distance from Westover, and when the first breeze came
to them over the salt water, the refreshing sensation was quaintly
declared to be like breathing ice cream.
An amusing incident is recalled of our start from Yorktown. We broke
camp at 7 A. M., 18th August. The headquarters officers’ mess of our
Regiment had been fortunate enough to confiscate a “muell” on the
previous day; his temper proved to be not child-like nor yet bland.
Upon this creature’s back was loaded the kit, consisting of pots, pans,
kettles, plates, etc., etc., with whatever bread, sugar, and other
rations were in stock. The whole affair was in charge of a darkey. The
kit was packed in two large sacks, to be hung across the mule’s back,
like panniers, and on top of these were piled a few bulky articles,
camp-chairs, and such like nick-nacks. When fully loaded little was to
be seen of “the insect,” except his ears and his legs. The darkey being
discouraged in the legs had made up his mind, as soon as it could be
done without being seen by the officers, to mount upon the top of this
pyramid of pots and pans, and to have a ride. The mule, however, had
other views. As the column filed off down the hill, rough with stumps,
and ending in a morass, we looked back and saw Mr. Mule arguing and
expostulating, mule-fashion, with Mr. Cuffy. At length, however, he
apparently yielded to the superior forensic skill of the latter, and
allowed himself to be mounted. Yet, as the sequel showed, there was a
mental reservation. After wheeling round and round several times, as if
to look the ground over thoroughly and examine this new question on all
sides, the mule laid back his long ears, stretched his neck, and bolted
straight down the hill. He stopped suddenly at the edge of the swamp,
planted his fore-feet, raised his hindquarters, and sent the other
contraband-of-war some distance into the swamp, while the kettles,
and coffee, etc., of the headquarters mess strewed the ground in all
directions. Thereafter it was remarked that that darkey invariably
led that mule; also, that several little utensils, such as cups and
saucers, were missing from the table of the mess.
IV.
_CAMPAIGNING UNDER POPE._
At Newport News the Regiment immediately embarked on the transport
steamer _Belvidere_ for Acquia Creek, thence by railroad it was
forwarded to Stafford Court House, near Fredericksburg, and on the 22d
of August encamped in a pleasant grove not far from Barnett’s Ford, on
the upper Rappahannock, in which agreeable and comparatively salubrious
locality we enjoyed a welcome rest of several days, but we were very
hungry. Our position was at too great distance to receive regular
supplies from Burnside at Acquia, and General Pope did not consider
bases of supplies of any importance.
On Saturday, the 23d, distant firing was heard in the direction of the
upper fords of the Rappahannock. On Tuesday, the 26th, one wagon came
up for each regiment, and early on the 27th we moved along the river,
past roads leading to Kemper’s and Kelly’s Fords, as far as Bealton, on
the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, then up the railroad track towards
Manassas. The sound of artillery was often audible in advance.
This march was made through a country parched by the heat of a Southern
mid-summer, the troops always enveloped in clouds of dust, the few
wells and watering-places constantly in possession of a struggling
crowd which barred out the weak who needed water most, and it cannot
be a matter for surprise, but indeed it was a matter for grief, that
hundreds of the soldiers fell exhausted by the wayside, to die in the
fields, or in prison to suffer what was worse than death.
That evening we bivouacked near Warrenton Junction, in a large wood,
the men as they came in throwing themselves upon the ground, hastening
to get their needed sleep. The officers (who could not draw rations)
felt the want of food even more than the men. The field and staff mess
could offer only some wretched cakes of corn bread.
On the morning of the 28th, before many of us had fairly tasted sleep,
we were aroused with orders to prepare for the march. The night was
yet intensely dark and it was difficult to find the way out from the
wood. The staff officers who, guided by our camp-fires, came to lead
us out upon the road, a distance of three hundred yards--were obliged
to acknowledge their inability to do so. At last a negro servant
of the Surgeon, escorted by soldiers having lighted candles in the
muzzles of their rifles, guided the Regiment and the brigade out of
the wood to the roadway. Here we found the way blocked by a battery,
and resort was had to torches, by whose light the men, in single file,
picked their way through the obstructions. Then there was a long
wait for Sykes’ division, and after his files had flitted by like
shadows in the darkness, there came a grey daylight through the fog,
by which, with great trouble we were able to move slowly on our route,
winding in and out among the wagons which also had been impeded by
thick darkness. At length we moved pretty rapidly in the direction of
Manassas, following the line of the railway. At Catlett’s a train of
cars was seen which had been fired and partially destroyed; near by we
passed a headquarters camp, said to have been General Pope’s, which
had evidently been raided by the enemy. At intervals we could hear the
sound of fighting, at the north and northeast, sometimes pretty near,
and we were hurried forward as rapidly as possible. At Kettle Run we
saw evidences of the battle which Hooker had fought there with Ewell’s
corps, and saw many prisoners and wounded men. Here the fighting seemed
to be northwest from us; as we crossed Broad Run, about sundown, it was
nearly due north.
A day of hot sun and stifling dust was this 28th day of August; on
every side were evidences that there had been heavy fighting. The
railroad track had been torn up and its bridges destroyed, clearly by
the rebels. The trains of wagons, the batteries, the troops of all arms
that we passed or that passed us this day, were wonderful for number.