Another Advance.—The Army stalled in mud.—Removal of General
Burnside.—General Hooker succeeds him.—Character of the two
men.—General Franklin relieved, and General Smith transferred
to the 9th Army Corps.—His Parting Address.—Colonel Taylor
assigned to a Brigade.—A Contraband Prayer Meeting.—Sanitary
Condition of the Army.
The weather continued to be very open and favorable for offensive
operations, and accordingly, on the 20th of January, General Burnside
began another forward movement. His plan this time was to cross the
Rappahannock several miles above Falmouth, and turn the enemy’s left wing.
Monday morning, the left Grand Division was put in motion, reaching
Banks’ Ford—the spot designed for crossing—the same day. One of the most
terrible storms the Army ever experienced set in that night and continued
until Wednesday, rendering the passage of the river impossible.
We were literally engulphed in a sea of mud, Virginia subsoil, of
all Jeff.’s dirty allies the most effective, completely blocking our
progress, and transforming, in a few hours’ time, our compact, well
disciplined forces, into a confused, chaotic mass. One hundred and
thirty-seven thousand men “stalled” in mud! Pontoons overturned and
abandoned, or “snaked” along by infantry; artillery “mired” to the
hubs, or broken down by the road-side; ammunition trains upset, or at a
dead-lock; supply wagons stuck fast in the clayey soil, or half hidden
beneath the surface; soldiers leaping from bog to bog, or floundering
in the mud like so many Neighbor Pliables in the Slough of Despond;
stragglers roaming through the fields and forests in quest of food, or
collected around a barrel of whiskey thrown overboard to lighten some
driver’s load; did an army ever before encounter such a plight?
A further advance under such circumstances was of course out of the
question, and on Thursday the army returned to Falmouth, the Thirty-third
re-occupying its old camp for the third time. A portion of the Regiment
remained up the river to assist in getting back the artillery, pontoons
and other _materiel_. On the Monday following, we were startled by the
report that General Burnside had been succeeded by General Hooker. Very
few were disposed to credit the statement, but it was soon confirmed by
the appearance of the following farewell address:
HEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, CAMP
NEAR FALMOUTH, Jan. 26, 1863.
General Orders No. 9.—By direction of the President of the
United States, the Commanding General this day transfers the
command of this army to Major General Joseph Hooker. The short
time that he has directed its movements has not been fruitful
of victory, nor any considerable advancement of our line, but
it has again demonstrated an amount of courage, patience and
endurance that, under more favorable circumstances, would
have accomplished great results. Your General, in taking an
affectionate leave of the army, from which he separates with so
much regret, may be pardoned if he bids an especial farewell to
his long and tried associates of the Ninth Corps. His prayers
are that God may be with you, and grant you continued success
until the rebellion is crushed.
MAJOR GENERAL BURNSIDE.
Owing to the lack of co-operation manifested on the part of many
subordinate officers, General Burnside had, prior to this time, issued an
order dismissing several of them. This order he sent to the President,
with the request that he would either sanction it, or relieve him from
the position of General Commanding. He must be clothed with authority to
root out all disorganizing elements in his army, substituting, in the
place of envious, intriguing Generals, those who would labor in unison
with him, or yield over his command. The President did not see fit to
confer this authority upon him, and he was accordingly relieved.
Rarely do we meet with one possessed of such noble qualities as were
displayed in General Burnside’s character. Free from those personal
ambitions which lead so many to seek only
“The bubble reputation even in the cannon’s mouth;”
influenced solely by motives of patriotism, generous and magnanimous to
a fault, manly and Christian in his deportment, unassuming and almost
diffident, he was the idol of the Ninth Army Corps, and won the esteem
and admiration of all who were thrown in contact with him. His only
faults were those of a military character: of these the main one was
a want of reticence. The closest secrecy in all matters was seemingly
incompatible with his frank, open nature. Lack of confidence in his own
judgment led him to confer freely with others concerning his plans, who
in turn communicated them to others, until he could with truth, exclaim:
“I never whisper a private affair
Within the hearing of cat or mouse,
But I hear it shouted at once from
The top of the house.”
But admitting, as he himself repeatedly did, that he was not endowed
with that grasp of intellect, fertility of resource, in short Napoleonic
comprehensiveness, necessary for commanding so large an army, how many
men are born in a century who are thus endowed? Napoleon once remarked
that there was but one General in the whole of France, besides himself,
who could manœuvre one hundred thousand men.
General Hooker came into power with a flourish of trumpets, breathing
death and destruction to the foe. After ridiculing without stint his
predecessors, plotting and scheming for their overthrow, and declaring
that he would “take the contract for bagging the whole rebel army,” he
had at last prevailed upon the President, who was boxing the compass for
a new chief, to appoint him. The appointment was, however, conferred,
as General Hooker has frequently said, in direct opposition to General
Halleck’s wishes. Now that he had secured the reins, Mr. Rebel must
beware. He would “smash them to ——.” “God Almighty must have mercy on
their souls—he wouldn’t.”
The prince of braggarts, one could not be in his presence an hour without
recalling a character in King John.
“Here’s a stay
That shakes the rotten carcass of old death
Out of his rags! Here’s a large mouth indeed!
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas:
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.
What cannonier begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce.
He gives the bastinado with his tongue.
Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words,
Since I first call’d my brother’s father, dad.”
No sooner had he assumed command than the Grand Divisions were abolished,
and Generals Franklin and Sumner relieved—the latter at his own request.
General Smith was immediately after transferred to the Ninth Army Corps,
which had departed for the Peninsula. The following was his parting
address:
HEADQUARTERS SIXTH CORPS, IN CAMP NEAR
WHITE-OAK CHURCH, VA., Feb. 5, 1863.
_To the Officers and Soldiers of the 6th Army Corps_:
I relinquish command over you in obedience to orders. Your
soldierly qualities make it a high honor to command you,
and long months of association with you make me regret the
separation.
To my old Division I would say more in memory of our past and
longer association. You will not forget that you were in the
advance from Fort Monroe to within sight of the spires of
Richmond; that in front of the lines near Yorktown, you took
and held for days a position within three hundred yards of the
enemy; that your valor decided the day at Williamsburg; that in
three consecutive days, the 27th, 28th, and 29th of June last,
you met and repulsed the foe; that on the 17th of September you
came upon the battle-field to find the enemy advancing upon
unsupported artillery, and that, rushing upon their lines,
you drove them back in confusion, and saved the right wing at
Antietam. With such memorials your future is easily foretold.
W. F. SMITH.
The rainy season had now arrived; all hopes of further active operations
were abandoned, and the army went into permanent winter quarters. During
the month of February, the Thirty-third, Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, and
One Hundred and Nineteenth Pennsylvania, were formed into a new Brigade,
and placed under the charge of Colonel Taylor, who established his
Headquarters at the “Lee House,” about one mile and a half from White-Oak
Church. The Regiment changed its location to a woody crest on the Lee
estate, a third of a mile in the rear of the Colonel’s quarters. This was
the most delightful camp the Thirty-third had during its two years of
service; airy, roomy, healthy, commanding a fine view of the surrounding
country, and well supplied with pure water from springs close by. On the
summit of the hill, a square clearing was made, company streets laid
out, and the soldiers’ cabins built in regular order. The officers’
quarters were constructed just in the edge of the wood at the head of the
various streets. Encamped directly beneath, on the hill side, were the
Forty-ninth and One Hundred and Nineteenth Pennsylvania.
The months of February, March, and April, passed very pleasantly.
Athletic sports of every description and in-door amusements, beguiled
away many hours. A mail was received every evening and distributed at the
Chaplain’s tent. The New York, Philadelphia and Washington daily papers,
together with numerous volumes from the Bernard libraries, and other
secession sources, furnished ample reading material.
On becoming weary of the monotony of camp life, many sauntered out to
the surrounding forests, fields, and farm-houses, in quest of adventure.
Between the encampment and Acquia Creek was a settlement of contrabands,
employed by government in wood-chopping. They occupied the huts built
by the enemy when in possession of the region, and were apparently
very contented with their new mode of life. After the labors of the day
were closed, they assembled for a Virginia “hoe-down,” in which the
slaves so much delight, or to participate in religious exercises. Most
of the older members of the community were of a religious turn, and not
unfrequently spent the entire night in devotion. Their leader on such
occasions, a wrinkled, osseous specimen, whose crisp hair and callous
skin were, if possible, a shade darker than that of his companions, had
been the head-cook of his master, and now acted in that capacity. He was
never so much at home as when exhorting the brethren, and instead of
being embarrassed by the presence of soldiers, then talked and prayed
with increased fervor. The writer took down his prayer one evening.
He had just risen from his knees when we entered, but loth to lose an
opportunity of displaying his talent to the “northern white folks,” he
again kneeled down and delivered the following with great unction.
Oh, Lord God of dis glorious Universe. Wilt dou look down in de
omnipresence of dy eye upon dese dy collard children bowed upon de
knucklebone dis night. Take a solemn peep upon us and let a heap of
light in. Dou knowest what dese dy poor darkies need. Dere be Sam, dere
be Jerry, and dere be Pompey. Dey are in dere sins, dats what I reckon.
Help dem to git up, and git from de wilderness of sin, and come in to de
clearing of salvation. Take a solemn peep also upon de darkies in de
other cabin, who fiddle and whirl on de bombastic toe, while dy servant
fulminates words to dee. May dey rise above the anthratory things of
dis world, and fly like massa Linkum’s balloom heavenward. Ruler of all
humans on dis earth, wilt dou bress de Generals in de field dis night,
if it be circumspection in dy eye. Bress de Colonels in de field dis
knight, if it be circumspection in dy discreet eye, and also bress de
Union soldiers who carry de musket and chew de cartridge, fightin for
de Union and de Stars and Stripes. Dey fight in a scientific cause, and
be de bestest of men, but good Lord, mey dey swear less and pray more.
And finally bress dy humble servant now supplicating dee in behalf of
dese benighted darkies. It behoves dee to dig deep, and sound to de very
bottom of his heart. May dere be nary blimmage between myself and my
Saviour.
In de language of de mighty Washington, dis world is all a fleetin show.
To-day we are alive and hoppin around like grass-hoppers, to-morrow
the sickle of death cuts us down, and spreads us out like grass in hay
time. On every side dou knowest, oh Lord, is de evidences of de general
dislocation and distruction of de human family. Dere be fightin among
one another, and natural disease. But we die to live again, either as
saints or evil spirits. Dere be discushions on doctrines. Elecshion,
Before-ordination, Perfection, and sich like, confuse de intellects of
both black men and white. But good Lord, dou knowest dat dese are vain
allusions, splittin an dividin dy creatures into sexes without mercy.
Whoever will can go to glory. Many dare will be with sleek countenances,
white collars and fine clothes, who will find do gates shut against dem,
while de blind old woman hobbling on crutches, she go straight in, Amen.
[Illustration: Slave Quarters.]
The hearty burst of amens which followed from the hearers, indicated that
they were no less satisfied with his “gifts” than the leader himself,
whose serene and placid countenance was turned upon us in a most knowing
manner, as much as to say, “any white man beat that?”
[Illustration: Contrabands near Acquia Creek.]
Several now joined in singing a “hymn,” of which the chorus was—
“Lord, we are flowin to de fountain,
And it is so sweet;
Didn’t my Jesus turn him in de coffin?
Didn’t my Jesus turn him in de coffin?
Sister Mary she loved Jesus,
And so do I.
Lord, we are flowin to de fountain,
Flowin to de fountain,
And it is so sweet.”
While this was being sung, a young member of the band, with sleeves
rolled up and a bandana wrapped about his head, stood in the centre of
the cabin, and kept time. He continued beating with the feet and patting
with the hands, at the same time twisting himself into every conceivable
shape the human body will admit of, until the perspiration rolled off in
large drops from his forehead. An exhortation was next listened to, after
which they sang a variety of tunes, the following being a sample—
Jesus ’ll git us out o’ dis,
Jesus ’ll git us out o’ dis,
An’ will go home to Canean,
An’ will go home to Canean.
In describing this strange scene, we have no intention of throwing
ridicule upon these unfortunates, or their devotions, but merely to give
the reader an idea of the manner in which slave worship is frequently
conducted.
The health of the troops continued to be remarkably good, only five per
cent. of the entire army being on the sick list. Indeed, when we compare
the sanitary condition of the Army of the Potomac from its origin up
to the present time with that of other military organizations, there
is abundant occasion for thanksgiving. Nearly one half of our entire
forces of the Revolution, forty-seven per cent., were at one time unfit
for duty. Of thirty thousand troops that composed the English Army under
Wellington in 1809, six thousand were sick in the hospitals. In 1811,
the Portuguese Army, numbering forty-four thousand, had nine thousand on
the sick list. The terrible sickness during the late Crimean struggle
is fresh in the memory of every one. Thirty thousand Russian soldiers
perished in a few weeks’ time from camp diseases, and thirty-five per
cent., if we mistake not, of the allied troops were prostrated with
sickness when Florence Nightingale entered upon her mission of mercy. At
the commencement of the war, the enemy calculated largely on Cholera,
Yellow Jack, and other maladies, as allies in decimating our ranks; but
the health of the troops thus far has been unparalleled in the history
of modern warfare. This has been mainly due to the lavish amount of
supplies—at least one third greater than those furnished to any European
Army—and to the skillful management of the medical Department.
What is known as the Regimental fund comprises the proceeds from the
sale of the excess rations furnished to the various Regiments. This
sum amounts to several thousand dollars annually, thus indicating the
liberality of government in the matter of food. The Medical Department
characterized at the commencement of the war, by little order or
efficiency, is now completely systematized and placed on a servicable
footing. Immediately on the resumption of active operations, the
Surgeons are assigned to the duty for which they are best qualified; some
to the care of the sick, others to the amputating table, and others to
the field.
[Illustration: “Poor white trash.”]
The encampment was frequently visited during the winter by those
stigmatized among the wealthier Virginians, as “poor white trash.” They
generally came to crave “a little flour,” “a few potatoes,” anything to
keep body and soul together. Deprived of their sons by a contest in which
they took no interest, stripped of their little all by both parties,
reduced to absolute penury, theirs was a hopeless lot indeed.