Drum Taps in Dixie Part 6

Guards patrolled the sidewalks; troops were constantly pa.s.sing through the city on their way to Virginia; officers and their orderlies were riding to and fro, and it was said that a boy could not throw a stone at a dog without hitting a brigadier general.

Probably few of the present generation are aware how much of the great civil war was fought within an easy day's journey of the city. Two of the most celebrated battles of the war, in which 25,000 men were killed and wounded, were fought but twenty-five miles away, and at Arlington there is a monument that marks the resting place of the remains of over 2,100 unknown dead gathered along the route of the army from the Potomac to the Rappahannock.

There is no greater blessing vouchsafed to man than memory, which enables one to live over again the past, and so I recall with pleasure the many happy days in my early army life, when we were doing duty in the forts around Washington, and before the gold plating of a soldier's life had been worn off by the stern realities of active service.

The city was then encircled by a chain of forts. But time and the elements have nearly obliterated the defenses of Washington, and pretty little villas with sweet and romantic names such as: Rosslyn, Ivanwold, Buena Vista, Carberry Meadows, etc., have replaced them. The prattle and innocent laughter of happy children is heard on the heights or Arlington, instead of bugle calls, the music of bands and the booming of cannon.

Looking backward from a distance of forty years one must admit that it was much more comfortable soldiering around Washington than at the front with such fighters as Grant, Sheridan, Hanc.o.c.k, Warren, Wright, Gibbons and others "pushing things." It was monotonous, however, and the men grew tired of drills, fancy guard mountings, dress parades, brightening of guns and polishing of bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, and were troubled with the thought that the war might be brought suddenly to a close before they would have an opportunity to win any laurels. But everybody had their ambitions gratified before Lee surrendered, for there was fighting enough to go all around in that affair.

SOME OF THE OLD FORTS.

My first army home was at Fort Worth near Fairfax Seminary, about three miles from Alexandria.

The site of old Fort Worth was a beautiful spot, about three hundred feet above the Potomac, and from its warlike parapets one could behold an entrancing panorama of country. To the south the Fairfax "pike" and the Orange and Alexandria railroad wended their way through as beautiful a little valley as the sun ever shone upon. Twenty-five years after the war I visited the place. The owner of the land on which the fort was built, and who served as a colonel in the Confederate army, then had a beautiful home on the site and utilized the old bomb-proof for an outside cellar.

Near his barn was a little of the old parapet remaining and our party stood on the earthworks while our old regimental bugler, a man bent with the weight of more than three score years, sounded reveille, tattoo, and lights out. There were no dry eyes in the party when the last bugle notes echoed and re-echoed through the charming Virginia valley leading out toward Fairfax.

REMORSE REVEALS A CHIVALROUS ACT.

It is hardly necessary to say that we did some pretty deep thinking as we met that day on the old camp ground.

Our comrades stood before us again--boys who had been schoolmates, the companions of our youth. We could almost hear their familiar voices, their songs and sayings, and we thought of where we parted with many of them, here and there along the way from Washington to Appomattox. The thoughts brought keen pangs of sorrow to us, yet withal there were many pleasant recollections revived.

Looking off to the south we saw the same fine old southern mansion that was there in war times. We felt remorse for many foraging expeditions in which the fruit, sweet potatoes, ducks and chickens had been confiscated for the cause of Uncle Sam.

We thought we would go and call on our old neighbors and make the _amende honorable_.

The fine old southern lady freely forgave us with a graciousness characteristic of the women of the south. An invitation to lunch was extended and accepted. George, a colored boy, was told to go down the "Run" to the mill and tell her son, the colonel (no rank under a colonelcy is recognized in Virginia), to come up to the house and meet some of the old Second New York.

We lunched on the broad veranda and exchanged reminiscences of the days when we were neighbors and enemies, and as the colonel sipped that favorite and refreshing beverage of the south, a mint julep, he told of his wounds at Mana.s.sas and how friends had helped him through the lines and back to his old home right under the guns of our fort, where he was secreted until his recovery. His presence there was not unknown to the general commanding the Union forces, who, like a chivalric knight of old, kept the secret for the sake of the mother, and furnished guards to keep intruders away from the house.

The reader must not infer that there was one drop of traitorous blood in the officer's veins. His name I am not at liberty to divulge, but it is no breach of confidence to say that he was one of the most brilliant generals in the army of the Potomac, whose loyalty was proven on many a b.l.o.o.d.y battlefield.

Across the valley to the east from Fort Worth, on the Mount Vernon road, was a large fort called Fort Lyon, where the gallant old 94th New York Infantry spent the winter and spring of '62. An explosion of ammunition in one of the magazines nearly destroyed the fort in 1863, killing and wounding many of the garrison and causing the earth to tremble for miles.

Fort Lyon was nearly on the left of the defenses south of the Potomac, while Fort Marcy, about four miles west of Georgetown and near the famous Chain bridge, guarded the right flank.

Between the two, running parallel with the Potomac, along Arlington heights, was a perfect chain of forts and earthworks, the names of which many northern New York veterans will recall, such as Forts Ellsworth, Ward, Blenkner, Albany, Runyon, Corcoran, Haggerty, Tillinghast, Whipple, Woodbury, Greig, Ca.s.s, Dekalb (afterwards Fort Smith), Strong and many others. The Fifth New York Heavy Artillery a.s.sisted in the erection of the last named.

The 35th New York, which was the first organization in this section to respond to President Lincoln's call for troops, garrisoned Fort Tillinghast for a time and a.s.sisted considerably in its completion as well as the cutting away of timber in front of the forts south of Arlington.

One of the most prominent forts near Arlington was Fort Corcoran, so named in honor of Col. Michael Corcoran, who led that famous Irish regiment, the 69th New York, to the war, and was captured at the first battle of Bull Run.

This fort was the headquarters of the Second New York Artillery for more than a year and the regiment while there a.s.sisted largely in the construction of Fort Whipple, which is now known as Fort Myer, and is kept as a military post by the government. All visitors to Arlington via the Georgetown bridge pa.s.s by it.

Fort Stevens, originally called Fort Ma.s.sachusetts, attained prominence during Gen. Early's raid in 1864 by reason of having been the scene of some stubborn fighting. It is only about five miles from the capitol and but for the timely arrival of the fighting Sixth corps which Grant sent back from Petersburg, it is probable that the Confederate forces would have entered the city. It was on the ramparts of Fort Stevens that President Lincoln exposed himself to the fire of the enemy.

There were some formidable forts east of the capitol across the "East Branch" on Boone's Ridge in Prince George's County, Md. The names of Fort Mahan, Baker, Stanton, Carroll, Greble, Wagner and others will be recalled by all the survivors of that regiment, the pride of Jefferson county, the 10th New York Heavy Artillery, which garrisoned many of them for a long period.

LINCOLN'S PETS.

The 10th New York Heavy Artillery has been referred to as the lucky regiment from Jefferson county. It was organized in September, 1862, and performed garrison duty in the defenses east of Washington until the summer of 1864, when it was ordered to the front. It joined the army at Cold Harbor at about the time Grant was preparing to transfer operations to Petersburg and Bermuda Hundred.

The 10th Heavy was sent around by water from White House Landing, while most of the army made a forced march across country.

The regiment partic.i.p.ated in the first fighting at Petersburg. Later they were returned to the defenses of Washington where they remained until Gen.

Early's army was driven out of Maryland, when they were ordered to join Gen. Sheridan's forces in the Shenandoah valley. They were a fine body of men, well officered, well drilled, and under perfect discipline, which probably accounted for their being such favorites with President Lincoln and Secretary Stanton.

DOG BILLY OF THE SECOND HEAVY.

When McClellan's army left for the Peninsula a soldier sold to one of our boys his dog. He was just a plain every day sort of dog with chopped off tail and clipped ears, but in some respects the most knowing little fellow I ever saw, and he soon became a great favorite with everybody in camp.

He learned the bugle and drum calls and took special delight in dress parades. When the men were forming for that, Billy would run up and down the line barking and cut up all sorts of capers he was so very happy.

He seemed to be fond of bra.s.s band music and would lead the musicians up and down the line until the colonel ordered the sergeant major to drive him away. He charged on Billy with drawn sword and the knowing little fellow kept behind the line ever after that.

There was a nice large "swimmin' hole" in "Four Mile Run," not far from camp, where we used to go bathing frequently. Billy always went, too, and had great sport with the boys. Nothing pleased him more than to have some one pick him up and throw him headlong into the water.

Old "Lige" Moyer used to come out in front of his cook tent almost every evening and play the fiddle, and, if you will believe it, "Lige" learned Billy to waltz, rewarding him with liberal rations after the performance.

Billy always stood guard with his master, keeping him company in his lonely night watches.

The crack of a rifle did not disturb him the least bit, but the booming of the heavy guns were too much for his nerves, and he would go and hide in his owner's tent.

When we were ordered out to the front for the Bull Run campaign Billy went along, too. He used to curl up under the same blanket with Joe, his master. The morning that the battle of Mana.s.sas opened our regiment was subjected to a severe artillery fire for two hours. Billy became a skulker and went to the rear. In the skedaddle and panic that occurred later in the day, Joe, with many others, was taken prisoner by the Johnnies.

A couple of weeks later our regiment was sent back to the forts. Billy was not with us and no one had seen him since the morning at Bull Run. We concluded that he must have been taken prisoner, too, but a few days later Billy appeared in camp. He was a sorry looking dog, thin as a razor and his hair turned toward his head. The distance to Mana.s.sas was about twenty-five miles, but he had probably tramped much farther in finding his way back to camp.

All were glad to see him again, and he seemed pleased enough to see us until he found that Joe was not there. No more the bugle calls aroused him, and even the music of the band had lost its charm. He would just go looking in the different tents and keep up a continual whining.

One day he got tired waiting for Joe to come back and he left us, and that was the last we ever heard of dog Billy.

THE OLD WAR SONGS.

"I cannot sing the old songs, I sang long years ago, For heart and voice would fail me and foolish tears would flow; For by-gone hours come o'er my heart with each familiar strain; I cannot sing the old songs, or dream those dreams again."

How many of our readers remember the old songs and melodies that were so popular in the sixties? People sang them in their homes and the soldiers in the camps and on the march, and they furnished inspiration for many a tired regiment to go into battle.

As I write there comes to my mind s.n.a.t.c.hes of many of the old favorites such as "We'll Rally Round the Flag, Boys," "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching."

A story is told of a regiment who went into battle nearly one thousand strong and came out with less than half the number, but the survivors with their blood-stained banners and smoke-begrimed faces marched to another position in the line singing

"We'll rally round the flag, boys, We'll rally once again, shouting the battle cry of freedom."