War from the Inside Part 2

Much could be written about the discomforts of these marches, the chief of which was the dust more than the heat and the fatigue. No rain had fallen for some time, and the roads and the fields through which we pa.s.sed were powdered into fine dust, which arose in almost suffocating clouds, so that mouth, lungs, eyes, and ears were filled with it.

Sometimes it became so dense that men could not be seen a dozen yards away. The different regiments took turns in heading the columns. There was comparative comfort at the head, but there were so many regiments that during the whole campaign our regiment enjoyed this privilege but once.

Another feature of the march was inability to satisfy thirst. The dust and heat no doubt produced an abnormal thirst which water did not seem to satisfy. The water we could get was always warm, and generally muddy and filthy. The latter was caused by the mult.i.tude of men using the little streams, springs, or wells. Either of these, ordinarily abundant for many more than ever used them, were hardly a cup full apiece for a great army. Hence many a scrimmage took place for the first dash at a cool well or spring. On our second or third day's march, such a sc.r.a.p took place between the advanced columns for a well, and in the melee one man was accidentally pushed down into it, head first, and killed. He belonged to one of the Connecticut regiments, I was told. We pa.s.sed by the well, and were unable to get water, because a dead soldier lay at the bottom of it. His regiment probably got his body out, but we had to march on without stopping to learn whether they did or not. The problem of water for our army we found to be a troublesome one. Immediately we halted, much of our rest would be taken up in efforts to get water. We lost no opportunity to fill our canteens. Arriving in bivouac for the night, the first thing was a detail to fill canteens and camp kettles for supper coffee. We always bivouacked near a stream, if possible. But, then, so many men wanting it soon roiled it for miles, so that our details often had to follow the stream up three and four miles before they could get clean water. This may seem a strong statement, but if one will stop a moment and think of the effect upon even a good-sized stream, of a hundred thousand men, besides horses and mules, all wanting it for drinking, cooking, washing, and bathing (both the latter as peremptory needs as the former), he will see that the statement is no exaggeration.

An interesting feature of our first two days' march was the clearing out of knapsacks to reduce the load. Naturally each man was loaded with extras of various sorts, knicknacks of all varieties, but mostly supposed necessaries of camp life, put in by loving hands at home, a salve for this, a medicine for that, a keepsake from one and another, some the dearest of earth's treasures, each insignificant in itself, yet all taking room and adding weight to over-burdened shoulders. At the mid-day halt, on the first day knapsacks being off for rest, they came open and the sorting began. It was sad, yet comical withal, to notice the things that went out. The most bulky and least treasured went first.

At the second halting, an hour later, still another sorting was made.

The sun was hot and the knapsack was heavy. After the second day's march, those knapsacks contained little but what the soldier was compelled to carry, his rations, extra ammunition, and clothing. Were these home treasures lost? Oh, no! Not one. Our friends, the vets, gathered them all in as a rich harvest. They had been there themselves, and knowing what was coming, were on hand to gather the plums as they fell. The only difference was, that another mother's or sweetheart's "boy" got the treasures.

On September 11 we were approaching Frederick City. Our cavalry had a skirmish with the rebel cavalry, showing that we were nearing their army. And right here I ought to say that what an individual officer or soldier--unless perhaps a general officer--knows of events transpiring around him in the army is very little. Even the movements he sees, he is seldom able to understand, his vision is so limited. He knows what his own regiment and possibly his own brigade does, but seldom more than that. He is as often the victim of false rumor as to movements of other portions of the army, as those who are outside of it. On this date we encamped near Clarksville. It was rumored that the rebels were in force at Frederick City. How far away that is we do not know. The only certainty about army life and army movements to the soldier is a constant condition of uncertainty. Uncertainty as to where or when he will eat, sleep, or fight, where or when the end will come. One would almost doubt the certainty of his own existence, except for the hard knocks which make this impossible.

The celebrated Irish brigade, commanded by Brigadier-General Thomas Francis Meagher, was in Richardson's division. They were a "free and easy" going crowd. General Richardson impressed me as a man of great determination and courage. He was a large, heavy man, dressed roughly and spoke and acted very brusquely. French (who commanded our division) was also thick-set, probably upwards of sixty years old, quite gray and with a very red face. He had an affection of the eyes which kept him winking or blinking constantly, from which he earned the sobriquet, "Old Blink Eye." I saw General Burnside about this time. He was dressed so as to be almost unrecognizable as a general officer; wore a rough blouse, on the collar of which a close look revealed two much-battered and faded stars, indicating his rank of major-general. He wore a black "slouch"

hat, the brim well down over his face, and rode along with a single orderly, without the least ostentation. The men of the other regiments knew him and broke out into a cheer, at which he promptly doffed his hat and swung it at the boys. His hat off, we recognized the handsome author of the "Burnside" whiskers. He was not only very popular with his own corps--the Ninth--but with the whole army, and chiefly, I think, because of his modest, quiet way of going about. This was so different from General McClellan.

On our third day's march we were halted for rest, when an orderly rode through the lines saying to the different colonels, "General McClellan will pa.s.s this way in ten minutes." This meant that we were to be ready to cheer "Little Mac" when he came along, which, of course, we all did.

He came, preceded by a squadron of cavalry and accompanied by a very large and brilliantly caparisoned staff, followed by more cavalry. He was dressed in the full uniform of a major-general and rode a superb horse, upon which he sat faultlessly. He was certainly a fine-looking officer and a very striking figure. But whether all this "fuss and feathers" was designed to impress the men, or was a freak of personal vanity, it did not favorably impress our men. Many of the old vets, who had been with him on the Peninsula, and now greeted him again after his reinstatement, were very enthusiastic. But notwithstanding their demonstrations, they rather negatived their praises by the remark, "No fight to-day; Little Mac has gone to the front." "Look out for a fight when he goes to the rear." On the other hand, they said when "Old Man Sumner"--our corps commander--"goes to the front, look out for a fight."

General Sumner was an old man--must have been nearly seventy--gray, and his color indicated advanced age, though he seemed quite vigorous. He went about very quietly and without display. He had a singular habit of dropping his under jaw, so that his mouth was partially open much of the time.

We bivouacked on the 12th of September in front of Frederick City, Md., in a field occupied the night before by the rebels, so the people told us, and there was abundant evidence of their presence in the filth they left uncovered, for they had slaughtered beef for their troops and the putrid offal therefrom was polluting the air. Still there we had to sleep. We marched the latter part of the day in the rain, and were soon well covered with mud. We managed to keep some of the water out with our gum blankets, and when we came to fix for the night, the men going in pairs made themselves fairly comfortable under their shelter tents. I should have explained that the only "canvas" supplied to the men on the march was shelter tents, which consisted of a square of stout muslin with b.u.t.ton-holes on one side and b.u.t.tons on the other. Two of these b.u.t.toned together and stretched taut over a ridge-pole and made fast on the ground, would keep out the heaviest shower, provided the occupants were careful not to touch the muslin. A hand or elbow accidentally thrust against the tent brought the water through in streams. There is a knack in doing this, which the experience of the vets with whom we were brigaded soon taught us. Choosing ground a little slanting, so the water would run away from them, they would sleep fairly dry and comfortable, even in a hard storm. As for us officers who were without shelter tents, we had to shift for ourselves as best we might. A favorite plan, when fences were available, was to place three or four rails endwise against the fence and make a shelter by fastening a gum blanket on top.

This worked fairly well against a stone wall for a backing, but against an ordinary fence one side was unprotected, yet with another gum blanket, two of us could so roll ourselves up as to be comparatively water-proof. My diary states that in a driving rainstorm here I never slept better in my life. I remember awakening with my head thoroughly drenched, but otherwise comparatively dry.

This night I succeeded in getting a "bang up" supper--a cooked meal--at a reb farm-house. It consisted of pork-steak, potatoes, and hot coffee with bread and b.u.t.ter. It was a great treat. I had now been without a square meal for nearly ten days. The old gentleman, a small farmer, talked freely about the war, not concealing his rebel sympathies. He extolled Stonewall Jackson and his men, who, he said, had pa.s.sed through there only a day ahead of us. He firmly believed we would be whipped. He evidently had an eye for the "main chance," for he was quite willing to cook for us at twenty-five cents a meal, as long as he had stuff to cook and his good wife had strength to do the work. She seemed to be a nice old lady, and, hungry as I was, I felt almost unwilling to eat her supper, she looked so tired. I told her it was too bad. She smiled and said she was tired, but she couldn't bear to turn away these hungry boys. She said she had a son in the rebel army, and she knew we must be hungry and wet, for it was still raining hard.

The officers at this time experienced difficulty in getting food to eat.

The men were supplied with rations and forced to carry them, but rations were not issued to officers--though they might purchase of the commissary such as the men had, when there was a supply. The latter were supposed to provide their own mess, for which purpose their mess-kits were transported in a wagon supplied to each regiment. The field and staff usually made one mess, and the line or company officers another.

Sometimes the latter messed with their own men, carrying their rations along on the march the same as the men. This was discouraged by the government, but it proved the only way to be sure of food when needed, and was later on generally adopted. We had plenty of food with our mess-kit and cook, but on the march, and especially in the presence of the enemy, our wagons could never get within reach of us. Indeed, when we bivouacked, they were generally from eight to ten miles away. The result was we often went hungry, unless we were able to pick up a meal at a farm-house--which seldom occurred, for the reason that most of these farmers were rebel sympathizers and would not feed us "Yanks," or they would be either sold out, or stolen out, of food. The tale generally told was, "You 'uns has stolen all we 'uns had." This accounts for the entry in my diary that the next morning I marched without breakfast, but got a good bath in the Monocacy--near which we encamped--in place of it. I got a "hardtack" and bit of raw pork about 10 A.M.

On the 13th of September, we pa.s.sed through the city of Frederick, Md.

It is a quaint old town, having then probably three thousand or more inhabitants and a decided business air. The rebels, they claimed, had cleaned them out of eatables and clothing, paying for them in Confederate scrip, and one man told me they would not take the same scrip in change, but required Union money; that this was demanded everywhere. General McClellan pa.s.sed through the streets while we were halted, as did General Burnside shortly after. A funny incident occurred with the latter. General Burnside, as usual, was accompanied by a single orderly, and had stopped a moment to speak to some officers, when a handsome, middle-aged lady stepped out of her house and approached. She put out her hand and, as the general clasped it, she raised herself up on her toes in an unmistakable motion to greet him with a kiss.

The general so understood her, and, doffing his hat, bent down to meet her pouting lips, but, alas, he was too high up; bend as low as he might and stretch up as high as she could, their lips did not meet, and the kiss hung in mid-air. The boys caught the situation in a moment, and began to laugh and clap their hands, but the general solved the problem by dismounting and taking his kiss in the most gallant fashion, on which he was roundly cheered by the men. The lady was evidently of one of the best families. She said she was a stanch Union woman, and was so glad to see our troops that she felt she must greet our general. There was "method in her madness," however, for she confined her favors to a general, and picked out the handsomest one of the lot. It is worthy of note, that during this incident, which excited uproarious laughter, not a disrespectful remark was made by any of the hundreds of our "boys" who witnessed it. General Burnside chatted with her for a few moments, then remounted and rode away.

Approaching Frederick City, the country is exceptionally beautiful and the land seemed to be under a good state of cultivation. In front of us loomed up almost against the sky the long ridge called the South Mountain. It was evidently a spur of the Blue Ridge. Another incident occurred soon after reaching bivouac, just beyond the city. We had arranged for our night's "lodging" and were preparing supper, when one of the native farmers came into camp and asked to see the colonel.

Colonel Oakford and Lieutenant-Colonel Wilc.o.x were temporarily absent, and he was turned over to Major Albright, to whom he complained that "you 'uns" had stolen his last pig and he wanted pay for it. The major, who was a lawyer, began to cross-question him as to how he knew it was our men who had stolen it; there were at least fifty other regiments besides ours on the ground. But he would not be denied.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COLONEL CHARLES ALBRIGHT]

He said they told him they was "a hundred and thirty-two uns," and he also saw those figures on their caps. The major asked how long ago they took it. He replied that they got it only a little while ago, and offered to go and find it if the major would allow him. But the latter was confident he was mistaken in his men--that some of the old "vets"

had got his pig. His chief argument was that our men were greenhorns and knew nothing about marauding; that some of the "vets" had doubtless made away with his pig and had laid it on our men. So persuasive was the major that the man finally went off satisfied that he had made a mistake in his men. The man was only well out of camp when one of our men appeared at the major's quarters with a piece of fresh pork for his supper, with the compliments of Company----. Now, the orders against marauding were very severe, and to have been caught would have involved heavy punishment. But the chief point of the incident, and which made it a huge joke on the major, lay in the fact that the latter who was a thoroughly conscientious man, had successfully fought off a charge against his men, whom he really believed to be innocent, only to find that during the very time he was persuading his man of their innocence, the scamps were almost within sound of his voice, actually butchering and dressing the pig. How they managed to capture and kill that pig, without a single squeal escaping, is one of the marvels of the service.

Certainly vets could have done no better. The man was gone, the mischief was done, the meat was spoiling, and we were very hungry. With rather cheerful sadness, it must be confessed, we became _particeps criminis_, and made a supper on the pork.

CHAPTER IV

DRAWING NEAR THE ENEMY--BATTLE OF SOUTH MOUNTAIN--PRELIMINARY SKIRMISHES

Sunday, September 15, we broke camp at daylight and marched out on the Hagerstown "pike." Our division had the field this day. We crossed the ridge in rear of Frederick City and thence down into and up a most beautiful valley. We made only about seven miles, though we actually marched over twelve. We were in the presence of the enemy and were manoeuvred so as to keep concealed. We heard heavy cannonading all day, and part of the time could see our batteries, towards which we were marching.

Towards night we heard the first musketry firing. It proved to be the closing of the short but sanguinary battle of South Mountain. General Reno, commanding the Ninth Corps, whose glistening bayonets we had seen across the valley ahead of us, had overtaken the rebel rear guard in South Mountain pa.s.s and a severe action had ensued. General Reno himself was killed. His body was brought back next morning in an ambulance on its way to Washington. We reached the battle-ground about midnight, whither we had been hurried as supports. The batteries on both sides were still at work, but musketry firing had ceased. It had been a beautiful though very warm day, and the night was brilliantly moonlight, one of those exceptionally bright nights which almost equalled daylight. And this had been Sunday--the Lord's day! How dreadful the work for the Lord's day!

Here I saw the first dead soldier. Two of our artillerymen had been killed while serving their gun. Both were terribly mangled. They had been laid aside, while others stepped into their places. There they still lay, horrible evidence of the "h.e.l.l of war." Subsequently I saw thousands of the killed on both sides, which made scarcely more impression on me than so many logs, but this first vision of the awful work of war still remains. Even at this writing, forty years later, memory reproduces that horrible scene as clearly as on that beautiful Sabbath evening.

It was past midnight when we bivouacked for the little rest we were to have before resuming the "chase." Being now in the immediate "presence of the enemy," we rested on "our arms," that is, every soldier lay down with his gun at his side, and knapsack and accoutrements ready to be "slung" immediately on the sounding of the "call." We officers did not unsaddle our horses, but dismounted and s.n.a.t.c.hed an hour's sleep just as we were. Bright and early next morning we were on our way again. It was a most beautiful morning.

We soon pa.s.sed the field where the musketry did its work the night before, and there were more than a hundred dead rebels scattered over the field, as the result of it. Two or three were sitting upright, or nearly so, against stumps. They had evidently been mortally wounded, and died while waiting for help. All were dressed in coa.r.s.e b.u.t.ternut-colored stuffs, very ugly in appearance, but admirably well calculated to conceal them from our troops.

We rapidly pa.s.sed over the mountain (South Mountain) and down into the village of Boonsborough. There was abundant evidence of the rebel skedaddle down the mountain ahead of our troops in the way of blankets, knapsacks, and other impedimenta, evidently dropped or thrown away in the flight. We pa.s.sed several squads of rebel prisoners who had been captured by our cavalry and were being marched to the rear under guard.

They were good-looking boys, apparently scarcely more than boys, and were poorly dressed and poorly supplied.

Some freely expressed themselves as glad they had been captured, as they were sick of the fighting.

My own experiences this day were a taste of "the front," that is, the excitement attending a momentarily expected "brush" with the enemy. Part of the time my heart was in my mouth, and my hair seemed to stand straight up. One can have little idea of this feeling until it has been experienced. Any effort to describe it will be inadequate. Personal fear? Yes, that unquestionably is at the bottom of it, and I take no stock in the man who says he has no fear. We had been without food until late in the afternoon for reasons heretofore explained. Towards night one of my friends in Company K gave me a cup of coffee and a "hardtack."

Just before reaching Boonsborough, a pretty village nestling at the foot of the South Mountain, our cavalry had a sharp skirmish with the rebel rear-guard, in which Captain Kelley, of the Illinois cavalry, was killed, I was told. At Boonsborough we found the field hospitals with the rebel wounded from the fight of the day previous. Their wounded men said their loss was over four hundred killed, among them two brigadiers-general, one colonel, and several officers of lesser rank. A rebel flag of truce came into our lines here to get the bodies of these dead officers and to arrange for burying their dead and caring for their wounded. The houses of Boonsborough had been mostly vacated by the people on the approach of the rebel army and the fighting, and the latter had promptly occupied as many of them as they needed for their wounded. Imagine these poor villagers returning from their flight to find their homes literally packed with wounded rebel soldiers and their attendants. Whatever humble food supplies they may have had, all had been appropriated, for war spares nothing. Some of the frightened people of the village were returning as we pa.s.sed through, and were sadly lamenting the destruction of almost everything that could be destroyed on and about their homes by this besom of destruction,--war. Food, stock, fences, bed and bedding, etc., all gone or destroyed. Some of the houses had been perforated by the sh.e.l.ls,--probably our own sh.e.l.ls, aimed at the enemy. One man told me a sh.e.l.l had entered his house and landed on the bed in the front room, but had not exploded. Had it exploded, he would have had a bigger story to tell.

The rebels, we learned, had been gone but a few hours, and we were kept in pursuit. We marched out the Shepherdstown road a few miles, reaching and pa.s.sing through another village--Keedysville. We were continuously approaching heavy cannonading. Indeed, we had been marching for the past three days within hearing of, and drawing closer to, the artillery barking of the two armies. Old vets said this meant a big fight within the next few hours. If so, I thought I shall better know how to diagnose similar symptoms in the future.

A mile beyond Keedysville we bivouacked for the night, after a hard, hot, and exciting day's chase. Lieutenant-Colonel Wilc.o.x came into camp with a great trophy, nothing less than a good old-fashioned fat loaf of home-made bread. He was immediately voted a niche in the future hall of fame, for two acts of extraordinary merit, namely, first, finding and capturing the bread, and, second, bringing it into camp intact, the latter act being considered supremely self-sacrificing. It was magnanimously divided by him, and made a supper for three of us. Our mid-day meal had been made up of dust and excitement.

All sorts of rumors were afloat as to the movements of the enemy, as well as of our own army. It was said Jackson was across the Potomac with a large force; that Hooker was engaging him, and that we were likely to bag the balance of Lee's army soon. One thing I learned, namely, that I could be sure only of what I saw, and that was very little, indeed, of the doings of either army. The soldier who professes to know all about army movements because he "was there," may be set down either as a b.u.mmer, who spent most of his time up trees, safely ensconced where he could see, or as a fake.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COLONEL VINCENT M. WILc.o.x]

My diary records a night of good rest September 16, 1862, in this camp on the Shepherdstown road. The morning was clear, beautiful, and cheery.

This entry will look somewhat remarkable in view of that which follows, namely, "No breakfast in sight or in prospect." Later one of our men gave me half his cup of coffee and a couple of small sweet potatoes, which I roasted and ate without seasoning.

The "ball" opened soon after daylight by a rebel battery, about three-quarters of a mile away, attempting to sh.e.l.l our lines. Our division was ma.s.sed under the shelter of a hill. One of our batteries of 12-pounder bra.s.s guns promptly replied, and a beautiful artillery duel ensued, the first I had ever witnessed at close quarters. Many of us crept up to the brow of the hill to see the "fun," though we were warned that we were courting trouble in so doing. We could see columns of rebel infantry marching in ranks of four, just as we marched, en route, and as sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l from our guns would explode among them and scatter and kill we would cheer. We were enjoying ourselves hugely until presently some additional puffs of smoke appeared from their side, followed immediately by a series of very ugly hissing, whizzing sounds, and the dropping of sh.e.l.ls amongst our troops which changed the whole aspect of things. Our merriment and cheering were replaced by a scurrying to cover, with blanched faces on some and an ominous, thoughtful quiet over all.

This was really our first baptism of fire, for though at South Mountain we had been in range and were credited with being in the fight as supports, none of the sh.e.l.ls had actually visited us. Several of these came altogether too close for comfort. Colonel Oakford, Lieutenant-Colonel Wilc.o.x, and I were sitting on our horses as close together as horses ordinarily stand, when one of these ugly missiles dropped down between us. It came with a shrieking, screeching sound, like the pitch of an electric car with the added noise of a dozen sky-rockets. It did not explode. It created considerable consternation and no little stir with horses and men, but did no damage further than the scare and a good showering of gravel and dust. Another struck between the ranks of our brigade as they were resting under the hill with guns stacked,--only a few feet away from us. It also, happily, failed to explode, but we were sure some one must have been killed by it. It did not seem possible that such a missile could drop down upon a division of troops in ma.s.s without hitting somebody; but, strange as it may seem, it did no damage beyond knocking down a row of gun-stacks and tumbling topsy-turvy several men, who were badly bruised, but otherwise uninjured. The way the concussion tossed the men about was terrific. Had these sh.e.l.ls exploded, some other body would probably have had to write up this narrative.

Another sh.e.l.l incident occurred during this artillery duel that looked very funny, though it was anything but funny to the poor fellow who suffered. He, with others, had been up near our battery, on the knoll just above us, witnessing the firing, when one of these rebel sh.e.l.ls came ricochetting along the ground towards him as he evidently thought, for he started to run down the hill thinking to get away from it, but in fact running exactly in front of the sh.e.l.l, which carried away one heel.

He continued down the hill at greatly accelerated speed, but now hopping on one foot. Had he remained where he was the missile would have pa.s.sed him harmlessly. Except when nearly spent, sh.e.l.ls are not seen until they have pa.s.sed, but the screeching, whizzing, hissing noise is sufficient to make one believe they are hunting him personally. Veteran troops get to discount the terrors of these noises in a measure, and pay little attention to them, on the theory that if one is going to be hit by them he will be anyway, and no amount of dodging will save him, so they go right on and "take their chances." But with new troops the effect of a sh.e.l.l shrieking over or past them is often very ludicrous. An involuntary salaam follows the first sound, with a wild craning of the necks to see where it went. Upon marching troops, the effect is like that of a puff of wind chasing a wave across a field of grain.

Returning to our artillery duel, so far as we could judge, our battery had the best of the practice, but not without paying the price, for the second rebel sh.e.l.l killed the major (chief of artillery of our division), who sat on his horse directing the fire, and besides there were a number of casualties among the battery men. I had seen many a battery practice on parade occasions with blank cartridges. How utterly different was the thing in war. Infinitely more savage, the noise deafeningly multiplied, each gun, regardless of the others, doing its awful worst to spit out and hurl as from the mouth of a h.e.l.l-born dragon these missiles of death at the enemy.

The duel continued for upwards of two hours, until the enemy's battery hauled off, having apparently had enough. Evidences of the conflict were sadly abundant. A number were killed, others wounded and several of the battery horses were killed. The work of the men in this h.e.l.l of fire was magnificent. They never flagged for a moment, and at the conclusion were not in the least disabled, notwithstanding their losses. I think it was Nimm's battery from Pittsburg. This was the chief incident of the day. It was said the two armies were manoeuvring for position, and that a great battle was imminent. This from my diary. It proved to be true, and that all the skirmishes and "affaires" for the preceding ten days had been only preliminary to the great battle of Antietam, fought on the next day, the 17th.

We remained in bivouac here the remainder of the day and night.

Burnside's Ninth Corps pa.s.sed to "the front" during the afternoon, a splendid body of veteran troops, whose handsome and popular general was heartily cheered. He was a large, heavily-built man, and sat his handsome horse like a prince.

CHAPTER V