Drum Taps in Dixie Part 3

A soldier by the name of Pitcher saw them carrying the major across the ditch and sang out, "Dump him, boys, dump the old sinner in the ditch."

Roach recognized the voice and called back, "I know you, Pitcher, and I'll break your pitcher for you," and true to his word he caused the offender to suffer by making a "spread eagle" of him on the wheel of a gun.

Roach's performances on dress parade and battalion drills made him and us the laughing stock of Phil Kearney's Jersey brigade and other of McClellan's troops who were encamped about us.

The major used to prowl around nights and try to find out if any of the sentries were shirking their duties. One night he approached the post of one of our own Co. H. boys whose name was Patrick Devereaux. Pat was a typical son of Erin and withal a good soldier, and as he expressed it did not fear "shoulder straps nor the divil." He halted old "Quicker-nor-that"

and demanded the countersign. This was given and then the major thought he would see if the man knew his duties, and he said, "It's a pleasant evening, sentry; let me see your gun a minute." Instantly the point of the bayonet on Pat's musket was pressed against the officer's breast, and he was told to "mark time." Roach thought the man fooling, but Patsy says to him, "Oi'm a bigger man on me post than yersilf, and Oi'l learn ye betther than to be playin' tricks on a gintleman who is doin' his duty. Mark time, Oi say, and ye betther step off 'quicker nor that' or Oi'l be proddin' ye wid me bay'net."

The major swore and threatened, but Pat could not be intimidated and he kept Roach marking time until the officer of the guard relieved him.

Strange to say the major took the matter as a good joke and Devereaux escaped punishment.

A QUIET GAME AFTER TAPS.

I recall another instance when the major got the worst of it. The boys had been forbidden to play cards in their tents after "taps," when all lights had to be extinguished in the company streets. The cooking shanties were quite a little back of the camp and just over the crest of a deep ravine; so when the boys wanted a quiet game of "5-cent ante" with sutler tickets--for money was pretty scarce then--they would betake themselves to the cook houses where a light could not be seen from the officers'

quarters.

Roach got on to their game, however, and one night planned to surprise them from the rear. He had been observed by someone who notified the poker players and they prepared a little surprise for him. When the major was walking up the back steps Sergt. ---- emptied a kettle of bean soup all over him.

The sergeant paid the penalty by losing his chevrons; but I will add that after Roach had been dismissed from the service, the man whom he reduced to the ranks, became one of the best line officers of the regiment and at the a.s.sault of Petersburg won a captain's bars for bravery.

Another odd character among the officers was a certain lieutenant whom the boys named "Spider."

He was over fond of "commissary" and nearly always wore a pair of rubber boots. The men disliked him and never lost a chance to torment him--when it could be done without being detected--by calling out "here comes 'Spider' and his rubber boots."

CHAPTER III.

LITTLE MAC AND HIS GRAND ARMY--THE SECOND BULL RUN.

Probably the most popular commander of the Union forces in the civil war was General George B. McClellan. Whatever his faults, he was idolized by his men. Historians may write him up or down according to their bias, but the boys who carried the muskets away back in '62, who were with him at Yorktown, Williamsburg, Malvern Hill, Fair Oaks and Antietam, believed in him and through all the long years since then have had a warm place in their hearts for the memory of Little Mac.

We saw McClellan's army start out in the spring of '62 for their Peninsular campaign and our boys were hopping mad to think we were left behind. The great majority of the men really felt that the war would be ended before we had a chance to take a hand in. I may say that the drummer boys, full of young red blood, were as eager for the fray as the older men, but most of us had got enough of war before we reached Appomattox.

THE IDOL OF HIS MEN.

The greatest ovation that the writer ever saw given any general was on the occasion of McClellan's return to the army after the second battle of Bull Run.

It will be remembered that on his return from the Peninsular campaign he had been relieved and his troops had been ordered to join Pope's forces.

Gen. Pope was the man who, on a.s.suming command a few weeks before, had announced with a flourish of trumpets that his headquarters would be "in the saddle." But he was no match for "Stonewall" Jackson, who kept him running towards Washington, and would have annihilated his army at Mana.s.sas but for the timely arrival of McClellan's forces. As it was, the army had to take refuge in the defenses of Washington and there was anxiety for the safety of the capitol.

In the emergency President Lincoln appealed to McClellan to go over into Virginia and resume command and reorganize the shattered hosts, and McClellan, putting aside his personal feelings, consented to do so. The condition of the troops was such that they were not inclined to enthuse very much over any officer. They were ragged, nearly shoeless and thoroughly worn out, but when one afternoon word was pa.s.sed among them that "Little Mac" was coming they rushed to the roadside, flung their caps high in the air and cheered themselves hoa.r.s.e.

McClellan loved his men and their reception pleased him. He rode the entire length of the lines with bared head, smiling and bowing to the right and left. Two days later he led 90,000 of them over into Maryland, and won a grand victory at Antietam, sending Lee's hosts back to Virginia again, but it was the bloodiest battle of the war up to that time, for each side had a loss of from 12,000 to 15,000 men.

Lincoln visited the army on the battlefield and personally thanked McClellan for the victory, and the soldiers felt that they were to have their old commander with them to the end, but political influences were at work against him in Washington and he had to retire soon after.

It has always been an open question whether McClellan would not have been the great general of the war if he had been given all the troops he wanted and been allowed to act on his own judgment without dictation from Stanton and Halleck. But it was not until later in the war that those in authority at Washington learned that the general with his troops is the one to command them.

GOING AFTER STONEWALL.

In August, 1862, our regiment received orders to march to join Gen. Pope's forces, then operating in the vicinity of Culpeper and Gordonsville, and there was great rejoicing among the men, who had begun to fear that the rebellion might collapse without their having a smell of powder.

The shades of evening were coming on when the bugles sounded the "a.s.sembly" and we marched away with light hearts and heavy knapsacks, for all green soldiers are bound to overload on their first march.

That night we lay out on the ground alongside of the Orange & Alexandria railroad. When morning dawned we found that there were other troops bound for somewhere, too. Every man made his own coffee and we ate our first meal of "hardtack," and were not long in finding out that the safest way was to break them in small pieces and sort the worms out.

After that breakfast I went over to a sutler's tent and filled up my haversack with fried pies, cookies, crackers and other trash that a boy likes.

Late that afternoon we started out on the "pike" in the direction of Fairfax court house and were rushed along at a lively gait until nearly midnight. The men were young and light hearted, and as we marched there was the rollicking laugh, sharp joke, equally as keen a retort, queer and humorous sayings, breaking out from the ranks here and there, and then all would sing, "John Brown's Body" and "We'll Hang Jeff Davis to a Sour Apple Tree."

We halted that night near a little place called Accotink and bivouacked in a large open field, and I recall how quickly the rail fences were converted into huge camp fires, for the Virginia nights are nearly always chilly.

The march was resumed early the next morning and the day was a hot one.

The most aggravating thing to the soldiers on a march is the unevenness of the marching. First you are rushed along so that the short legged ones are compelled to double-quick to keep up, and then there will be a halt of perhaps fifteen to thirty minutes when you are kept standing in the broiling sun; then start again and stop five minutes later.

It struck me as funny that not one person in ten you met in the country knew anything about distances. If you met a colored man and asked how far it was to Mana.s.sas he would reply "'Deed, boss, I don't know, 'spec 'tis a right smart distance."

Another would say it was eight miles, and after going a mile or two you would ask again and would be told it was ten miles and a "bit."

NOTHING LIKE HARDTACK.

I found on the second day's march that the sutler's "goodies" which I had stocked up with had absorbed a little too much of the flavor of my haversack to be palatable, so I returned to Uncle Sam's ration of hardtack, salt junk and coffee, which cannot be beaten for a steady diet when campaigning.

We halted for a rest that noon near a beautiful old mansion between Fairfax and Centreville. The boys made themselves pretty free with whatever they wanted around the premises, notwithstanding the protests of the women of the household, one of whom observed that "you'uns think you are right smart now, but if Stonewall Jackson catches you he'll lick you so you won't be so peart the next time you come this way."

We little thought the prediction would come true in a brief twenty-four hours, but such was the case and when hot, tired and choking with thirst and dust, we stopped at the same place the next afternoon, thinking to refresh ourselves with some sparkling water from the "moss covered bucket that hung in the well," we found that it, and in fact all of the appliances for drawing water had been removed, and, looking back from this distance, I think they served us right.

THE SECOND BULL RUN.

The night of Aug. 26, 1862, our regiment was preparing to go into camp at Bull Run bridge when an excited horseman rode among us and asked for our colonel. The rider proved to be Capt. Von Puttkamer, who with his own battery, the 11th New York, and part of Battery C, 1st New York, had preceded us by a few hours. He reported that the Confederates had attacked Mana.s.sas Junction, capturing his battery and all the government stores at that point and he implored our colonel to take his regiment and "git him pack his pattery."

Col. Von Wagner, after informing him that he "Vas prigadeer sheneral in command," ordered the captain to lead the way and he would make short work of them "Shonnies."

After marching and counter-marching around in the darkness part of the night we lay down and waited for morn. Daylight revealed the enemy in force. General Jackson had outwitted Pope completely and had a large part of his army between Pope and Washington.

As soon as it was light enough we moved forward and a little later encountered the enemy near Mana.s.sas.

Our skirmishers fired on the rebel cavalry, who retreated after two or three volleys, behind some buildings. Several riderless horses were soon galloping around, so we a.s.sumed that the shots had been effective.