Camp at Opelousas—Cotton versus Potatoes—Fourth Wisconsin
Cavalry—Term “boys” not to be used in Third Brigade—Arrival of
Grierson’s Cavalry at Baton Rouge—The March resumed—Alexandria—Red
River—Start for the Mississippi—Morganza.
Taylor’s force had by this time become completely demoralized and
broken up, and a portion of it captured; there was no longer any fear
of its assuming the offensive; and the army remained in camp until
the 5th of May, while plans were being matured for the continuance
of the campaign. Great inconvenience was experienced here from the
scarcity of wood and water. Beginning with the nearest fences, the
cooks and their assistants had gradually laid bare the fields beyond
the picket-line. A muddy pond near the camp furnished a portion of
the water, until the horses refused to drink it, when the men gave
it up, and brought water from the wells, at a great distance. While
laying here, long trains of wagons daily passed in sight of the
camp, laden with cotton; and many of the volunteers, who had been
accustomed to think for themselves, and still held that privilege in
reserve, were of the opinion, that if the teams had been employed,
under regularly organized fatigue parties, in bringing sweet potatoes
and other vegetables into the camps, a more efficient force might
have been taken to Port Hudson, and the country better served than in
collecting cotton, even for its own benefit.
During the halt at Opelousas, a series of complimentary orders
were read to the troops on parade, from Gens. Banks, Emory, and
the brigade commander, Col. Gooding, congratulating them on their
success, and expressing confidence in the successful prosecution of
the campaign.
On the 24th, the division was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory. The
first brigade (Col. Ingraham’s) had been broken up, and the regiments
composing it stationed at the various important posts between
Brashear and Opelousas; so that there were present only eleven
regiments of infantry, two batteries, and some squadrons of cavalry.
The Fourth Wisconsin made its first appearance at this review as
cavalry. Mounted on horses and mules of every description, with most
primitive and unique equipments, it excited considerable merriment,
and gave little promise of the great reputation it afterwards
attained,—the pride of the Army of the Gulf, and the terror of the
rebels of Louisiana.
At this time, an order was issued by the brigade commander,
forbidding officers to address the men as “boys,” saying that they
were men in every sense of the word, and should be so styled at
all times. The “boys” laughed at this new idea: the custom was too
deep-seated in the service to be eradicated by a brigade order. The
mails did not reach the regiment very often; and there were all kinds
of rumors in regard to matters in the world outside. The announcement
of the fall of Charleston was received with mingled cheers and
expressions of doubt.
Monday night, May 4, an order was read on parade, announcing the
arrival at Baton Rouge of a cavalry force under Col. Grierson, after
a successful raid through the State of Mississippi. The news of this
achievement was received with pleasure by the Army of the Gulf, as
showing that the heavy drain on the fighting men of the South had
begun to show itself by the defenceless state of that portion of
the Confederacy away from the immediate vicinity of the chief rebel
armies.
There was but little drilling at Opelousas, the intense heat during
the greater part of the time, making officers and men alike glad
to seek the shade. Capt. Doten, of Co. G, resigned his commission
at this time, and made a farewell address to the regiment before
taking his leave. On the 30th, the regiment was mustered for pay;
and Tuesday morning, the 5th of May, found it again on the march.
Passing through the little town of Washington, about six miles from
Opelousas, the route lay through a rich cotton and sugar section;
but the greater portion of the land was now planted with corn, the
rebels having learned that Cotton was no longer king. Marching for
miles through these immense fields of corn, growing rapidly under
the Louisiana sun, the men of the Thirty Eighth were amused at the
ponderous articles which occasionally reached them in some of the
Northern journals, demonstrating how easy it would be to starve the
South into submission.
The roads began to be very dusty, and oftentimes the water was poor
and scarce; but the army kept on its way, day after day, the men
dragging themselves into camp at night, with blistered feet, and
too tired to cook the fresh meat regularly issued. For four days,
this forced marching was continued, barely stopping long enough at
noon to boil a dipper of coffee. On the 8th of May, when a few miles
from Alexandria, news came, that the gun-boats of Admiral Porter had
reached that town, and that it was in possession of the navy. After
a long halt at noon, the regiments unrolled their flags, the bands
uncovered their instruments, and the army marched into the town in
good order, to music which had become strange to this portion of
the Union, and which was heard by the residents with no emotions of
pleasure. The faces of the citizens wore that same expression of
mingled bitterness and curiosity that had been noticed in Franklin,
Opelousas, and Washington; and even the little children seemed to
think it no pageant in which they should take delight. Marching
through the town, the brigade went into camp on a level grass-plat,
near the banks of the Red River.
By order of Gen. Emory, drills were dispensed with at Alexandria, and
“every opportunity given the men to recover from the fatigues of the
recent march, and prepare for the active duties still before them.”
The river was alive with bathers daily; and its banks were lined with
busy washermen. Gun-boats and transports steamed up and down the
river, giving a lively appearance to the place; but business, other
than military and naval, was stagnant.
On the 14th, marching orders were received. The reveillé was beaten
at two o’clock, A. M., the next morning (Friday); but the Thirty
Eighth having the position of rear-guard, did not move until
daylight. There had been heavy showers the day previous, turning the
dust into mud, and the progress was slow. Still twenty miles were
made, the army going into camp occupied by them on the upward march,
on the banks of a bayou.
The next morning, the third brigade had the centre of the column,
and the marching was easier. The old road was followed as far as the
village of Cheneyville, when the route changed, and the army turned
again toward the Red River. That night, the regiment camped in a
cane-field near a large sugar-mill, stored with more than one year’s
crop. The troops were liberally supplied with sugar by order of the
division commander, the neighboring fields supplied adventurous
foragers with new potatoes, and the plantation ditches were full
of ripe blackberries; so that, with the fresh meat issued by the
quartermaster, the regiment fared unusually well, and long remembered
the bivouac by the old mill.
A short march was made the next day, the army going into camp at nine
o’clock, near Simmsport, on the Atchafalaya River. There, to the
great joy of every one, a large mail, both of letters and papers, was
received; and the regiment once more learned how the world outside
was moving. Tuesday morning, May 19, the troops were ferried across
the Atchafalaya, and encamped on the other side, with the expectation
of remaining several days; but Thursday morning saw the inevitable
“orderly” ride into camp, and the column was again in motion.
For the past month, the weather had been rapidly growing warmer, the
roads more dusty, and the swamp and bayou water on the line of march
more unpalatable; and the regiment parted with regret from the clear
Atchafalaya, with its green, shady banks, and its beautiful scenery.
A portion of the country in this vicinity having been flooded by
breaks in the levee, the progress was slow; the artillery and wagons
being obliged to go on top of the embankment raised to keep back
the waters of the Old River,—a former bed of the Mississippi. The
regiment went into camp about dark, in a woods, beyond a small town,
and starting again at daylight, during the forenoon reached the
Mississippi, at Morganza Bend. De Soto and his Spaniards greeted the
mighty river with no more enthusiasm on its discovery than did the
dusty and thirsty Army of the Gulf when it once more came in view.
Its muddy waters were eagerly sipped, and the canteens filled for
future use.