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D 
 
 RSONAL Recollections of the War 
 
 A RECORD 01' SERVICE WITH THE 
 
 Ninetij-Thlrd New 7ork Vol, Infantry 
 
 AND THE 
 
 FIRST BRIGADE, FIRST DIVISION, SECOND CORPS, 
 
 ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, 
 
 ROBERT STODDART ROBERTSON, 
 
 Okherly Sergeant and 2d. Lieutenant Co, "I," ist 
 A. D. C. TO Gen. Nelson A. Miles, Brevet 
 Volunteers, Brevet Captain, Major ani 
 New York Voi.unteers,^^^ 
 
 . -K, 
 
 Svv.MN A: Tatk Co., Printkks ani> I'thmsiiivk- 
 Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
counting room, the store, the office ;uul the pulpit. Rich \ ied 
 with poor to prove their American manliood, and enrolled their 
 names side by side on the recruiting lists which were open on 
 every hand. Company bj' company they marched to the camps 
 of instruction and tliere formed into regiments in wliich they 
 were to win a deathless fame, but not until they had been taught 
 the rudiments of the science of destructive war. 
 
 None were yet educated enough to know why they could not 
 at once march on to sweep from the face of the land the hosts 
 which were organizing to oppose what they thought must be an 
 ever victorious march, from which the\' should quickly return, 
 clothed in a halo of glory, and welcomed by the plaudits of the 
 grateful country, which was supposed to be ready to crown 
 them with the victor's laurels, as its conquering heroes. 
 
 The writer shared in the aspirations and patriotic ardor of 
 many of his fellows, and early in the fall of 1861 became one 
 of the multitude of which was sung : 
 
 "We are coming, Father Abraham, 
 Three hnndred thousand more." 
 
 Haviiig opened an office for the practice of law m Whitehall, 
 Washington Count}^ N. Y., early in the spring, and beginning 
 to see a practice opening before him, it was something of a sac- 
 rifice, but youthful blood and patriotic desire were the stronger, 
 and the call was obeyed. 
 
 A county convention was called and lu^ld at Argyle, where, 
 after brisk, stirring and patriotic speeches, it was resf)l\ed to 
 raise a regiment to represent the Count}- (jf Washington, New 
 York, in the war, and John S. Crocker, of Cambridge was 
 selected to recruit, organize and command the regiment. 
 
 The holding of this convention was the only step taken by 
 the count}' to forward the cause, and it made no appropriation 
 of means, nor did it give any fniancial assistance to those who 
 commenced the labor of recruiting for the " Washington Count}' 
 regiment." 
 
 Each town was to furnish a compau}', and to the writer was 
 assigned the task of attempting to organize a compaii}- from 
 
Whiteliall, associating with him James C. Parke and Frank 
 Churchill, who were to be first and second lieutenants respect- 
 ively. A call was issued reading as follows : 
 
 "Sons of Washington County, Awake! 
 
 "Washington county is now forming a regiment for the field, and she calls 
 loudly upon her patriotic sons to help put down the great rebellion which is now 
 in our midst. 
 
 " Col. J. S. Crocker has been authorized to organize a regiment to be called 
 the Washington County Regiment— which is not to be consolidated with any 
 
 other. 
 
 "Let all obey the call and prove that the spirit which animated the Father of 
 his Country still animates the Sons of the County which bears his name. 
 
 "The undersigned are organizing a company in the town of Whitehall, and 
 those desirous of enlisting will find no better opportunity or better regiment. 
 
 "Come one! Come all! 
 
 "Apply to R. S. Robertson, at his office over the Commercial Bank, and to 
 
 las C. Parke, at the store of J. P. Blakeslee. 
 
 -* " R. S. Robertson. 
 
 " James C. Parke, 
 
 "Frank Churchill." 
 
 "Whitehall, Oct. 22, :86i." 
 
 A recruiting office was soon opened and recruits offered to the 
 number of about thirty, when we were requested to forward 
 them to the depot for volunteers at Albany. 
 
 On the 25th of November some twenty took their departure, 
 after being presented with a white silk banner by the young 
 ladies, bearing the inscription, "Our Country Calls." * 
 
 Arriving at the barracks we were surprised to find that no 
 preparations had been made to receive us. and there was no 
 way to obtain admittance until morning, so we quartered the 
 nten at Weldon's Hotel for the night, f 
 
 The next morning we were received and found the squad to 
 consist of nineteen beside myself, one having disappeared. Of 
 these three were rejected on medical examination, and the 
 remaining sixteen flatly refused to be mustered without me. as 
 
 *This banner was subsequenUy stolen bv one of the "heroes" and pawned 
 for drink. The writer redeemed it and has it still tn possession. 
 
 tAmoncr mv relics of the war are the receipted bills for all my recruiUng- 
 n.ses, iiicludiiifi- the bill at Weldon's. never refunded to me. 
 
 expe 
 
the}' fearetl 1113' desertion of tlieiii. It took but a brief examina- 
 tion to pass me, and tlie seventeen ot us were mustered into the 
 United States service for -'three years unless sooner dis- 
 charged," to date from Nov. 16, 1861. Capt. G. W. Stackhouse 
 was the mustering ofKicer, and we were temporarily attached to 
 the Argyle Company, under Capt. Wm. Randies. 
 
 The " companies" were as yet but skeletons, my contribution 
 of seventeen being a marked addition to the squad we joined. 
 There were now about 300 men mustered into these skeleton 
 companies, and myself and others were at once sent out to 
 recruit more, under the threat that wc would suffer from con- 
 solidation if we did not fill our ranks very soon. This dreaded 
 result came to us about the middle of December. Four com- 
 panies claimed to have been recruited b}' H. C. Butler for a sharp- 
 sliooters' regiment were assigned to our regiment, thus destroy- 
 ing the prospects of four of our sets of company officers. These 
 companies were Capt. Colvin's, from Warren county; Hobart's 
 of Alban}- and Columbia counties; * Barnes' of Essex, and Voor- 
 hees' of Saratoga and Fulton. Soon after we were still further 
 condensed to make room for the compan\ of Capt. McConihe. 
 of Troy. Our consolidation was finally completed on Cliristmas 
 day b}' the transfer of a company from the 76th New York, under 
 Capt. McNett, occasioned by a quarrel between Col. Green, of 
 that regiment, and McNett. in which the latter was shot in the 
 face by the former while under arrest and unarmed. The breach 
 was too serious to be healed, so McNett and his company were 
 assigned to us. and to make room for it Capt. Johnson's com- 
 pany was broken up and the men distributed toother companies, 
 he being assigned to command Randies' compan\-, the latter 
 being assigned as first lieutenant. As no commissions had yet 
 been issued to the officers, those who determined to go, took 
 such commissions as the}- could get and many of us took none. 
 
 The regiment was now formally organized and was numbered 
 the 93d New York Volunteer Infantry, or ■' Morgan Rifles," and 
 was officered as follows : 
 
 *Tliis company repudiated Butler's claim, but he was made lieutenant colonel 
 of llie reirinient on the jfroiinds that he had furnished four companies for it. 
 
FIELD AND STAFF. 
 John S. Crocker — Colonel. 
 Benjamin C. Butler — Lieutenant-Colonel. 
 Ambrose Cassiday — Major. 
 Strobridge Smith — Surgeon. 
 Theodore C. Wallace — Assistant Surgeon. 
 Haviland Gifford — Adjutant. 
 Andrew K. Haxstun — Quartermaster. 
 Charles H. Edgerton — Chaplain. 
 
 COMPANY OFFICERS. 
 Company A. — Orville L. Colvin, Captain. 
 
 Hbnry C. Newton, ist Lieutenant. 
 
 James M. Southwick, 2d Lieutenant. 
 Company B. — Elijah Hobart, Captain. 
 
 James W. Race, ist Lieutenant. 
 
 William C. Swain, 2d Lieutenant. 
 Company C. — Dennis E. Barnes, Captain. 
 
 Waters W. Braman, ist Lieutenant. 
 
 MiLO E. Washburn, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company D. — George M. Voorhees, Captain. 
 Henry P. Smith, ist Lieutenant. 
 Philemon B. Marvin, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company E. — Andrew J. McNett, Captain. 
 
 William H. Bradford, ist Lieutenant. 
 Lyman Warren, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company F. — George B. Moshier, Captain. 
 John Bailey, ist Lieutenant. 
 Silas S. Hubbell, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company G. — Walter S. Gray, Captain. 
 
 Wm. Van SchaickBeekman, ist Lieutenant. 
 Francis Bailey, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company H. — Hiram S. Wilson, Captain. 
 Edson Fitch, ist Lieutenant. 
 Ephraim T. Weeks, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company I. — Nathan J. Johnson, Captain. 
 
 William Randles, ist Lieutenant. 
 James M. Crawford, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
 Company K. — Samuel McConihe, Captain. 
 
 JosiAH T. Young, ist Lieutenant. 
 Gurdon G. Moore, 2d Lieutenant. 
 
8 
 
 I donned the chevrons as orderly sergeant of Company "I," 
 and at once entered upon duty. 
 
 We now settled down to barrack life in earnest. There was a 
 daily system of study and drills to develop the latent sparks of 
 military genius, and as ofificers and men were alike ignorant, 
 some of the latter were guilty of being more proficient than some 
 of the former. There was the school of the soldier, the school of 
 tlie company, and the school of the regiment. There were squad 
 drills and company drills, and some regiments were far enough 
 advanced to have regimental parades, and these excited the envy 
 of those yet in the chrysalis state. 
 
 The barracks consisted of a large brick building erected, but 
 not yet used, for a state penitentiary, supplemented by rows of 
 low buildings, with boarded and battened sides, the interior 
 occupied by four rows of bunks, three tiers in height, and a 
 large barrel stove at each end. One of the first militar}' duties 
 taught was that of guard duty, but it was not there that the duty 
 was fully learned. Strict as were the orders which forbade the 
 egress or ingress of inmates or outsiders without the pass or 
 countersign for the day, it must be stated that few were able to 
 refuse a friend's request to be passed, especiall}' when the 
 request was accompanied with, "it will be my turn for guard 
 duty tomorrow, and I will remember you," and this will prob- 
 ably account for the well patronized theaters and ga}'ety halls, the 
 favorite of which rejoiced in the euphonious name of the " She- 
 bang," no doubt conferred upon it by reason of the high order 
 of entertainment it afforded. 
 
 Those of the wooden barracks were looking down upon the 
 more aristocratic dwellers within the warm penitentiary walls, 
 and something like jealousy existed between the two parties, 
 particularly when the brick-walled soldiers were seized with 
 small-pox. It did not last long, however, when it was fountl 
 that those in barracks were equally favored and both had dele- 
 gates in the pest house. Vaccination was added to the list of 
 amusements, but it was not liked, partly because it was compul- 
 sory, and partly because it had unpleasant consequences. The 
 winter was a severe one and little real comfort could be found in 
 
the camp. We thouglit the fare execrable and the sleeping 
 accommodations abominable, but many a time later, fond mem- 
 or3' brought to mind the really comfortable quarters (compara- 
 tively speaking) which our first home in camp afforded. 
 
 In February, 1862, orders came for hastening the organization 
 of regiments to take the field, and rumors of an intended con- 
 solidation of all skeleton regiments were rife, and finally took 
 form in an order from the governor to that effect. As had been 
 done in our case, incipient companies were broken up and the 
 men distributed to four companies of the maximum, ruthlessly 
 destroying the ambitions of many an expectant ofificer, and the 
 same process was carried into effect with regiments. Many who 
 were recruiting for companies and for the field officers' positions 
 w^ere thus left, either to begin again, return home, or go into 
 the ranks without a commission. 
 
 Then followed preparations for breaking camp, and at 4 p. m. 
 of Feb. 14, 1862, the regiment was sent by rail to New York; 
 was detained for hours by a collision, and arrived at 3 p. m.. 
 marching from Thirty-first street to the barracks at City Hall 
 Park in the midst of a blinding snowstorm, whence, after a very 
 poor meal, the regiment was sent to Riker's Island, a bleak and 
 uncomfortable place for a winter encampment. 
 
 On the 19th we received our arms, the Enfield rifle, and began 
 to feel like real soldiers. 
 
 One death had occurred in Albany, Jerry Delaney, of Com- 
 pany "B," having succumbed to pneumonia resulting from the 
 measles. 
 
 On the 2 1 St the second death occurred, that of Geo. Austin, of 
 Company "I," from congestion of the lungs. He was given a 
 soldier's burial on the 22d. 
 
 We remained on the island until March 6, enduring the dis- 
 comforts of an extraordinarily severe winter. The barracks 
 were mere shells of upright boards and board roofs. The winds 
 lore off many of the battens on both roof and sides, and more 
 than once we were drenched with cold rains, and once a furious 
 storm threatened the utter demolition of our buildings and us 
 with freezing. 
 
10 
 
 On the btli, the steamer Athis came to the wharf and we 
 embarked for Amboy, where we took cars for Philadelphia, 
 arriving at i o'clock in the morning, and were the recipients of 
 the magnificent hospitality of the patriotic people of that cit}' at 
 the " Cooper Shop " Volunteer Refreshment Saloon. Notwith- 
 standing the lateness of the hour and the fact that ours was the 
 fifth regiment fed b)' them that night, we were refreshed by 
 a splendid collation, served by the hands of the best ladies of 
 the city, who were banded together for the purpose, and were 
 divided into regular reliefs for duty when occasion required. 
 They deserved the reverence and love of the soldier, and few 
 who were the recipients of their tender care and generous 
 bounty, will ever fail to revere the memory of the Philadelphia 
 Ladies' Volunteer Relief Corps, or forget the kind words of 
 sympath}' and solicitude for our welfare, which came from the 
 warm hearts of our lovable servitors. 
 
 Early on the 7th we were again on our way, but did not reach 
 ■ .'Baltimore until evening. A fairly warm reception awaited us 
 if?*there and our supper was again served by fair hands, the loyal 
 •"! ^ladies of Baltimore having an organization similar to that of 
 ' ■ Philadelphia. A very poor breakfast of bread, pork and coffee 
 awaited us in Washington the next morning, at "The Soldiers' 
 Rest," a barrack near the B. & O. station, after finishing which 
 we marched to Prospect Hill, near the Bladensburg Turnpike, 
 where we had our first experience in attempting to pitch tents, 
 a feat which we succeeded after awhile in accomplishing, but 
 not without much vexation of spirit and some symptoms of a 
 disease said to have been experienced by the army in Flanders. 
 Here we remained, engaged in daily drills and parades, labori- 
 ously learning the details of a soldier's life, until the i8th of 
 March, when we struck tents, and marched through Washing- 
 ton to a new camp on Meridian Hill, where we were assigned to 
 the brigade of Gen. Innes N. Palmer, a part of the division 
 commanded by Gen. Silas Casey, in Gen. E. D. Keyes' 4th 
 Army Corps. We were now a part of the Army of the Potomac, 
 and the air seemed filled with rumcrs of an early movement in 
 
11 
 
 some direction, but the general impression was that Casey's 
 division was intended for a special service on an expedition to 
 the South Atlantic coast. Whatever the proposed destination, 
 the division was under orders to be ready to march on a 
 moment's notice, and on the 29th of March all extra baggage 
 was ordered to be packed and disposed of. Heretofore we had 
 been barrack and camp soldiers, and the accumulation of bag- 
 gage was something wonderful, in the light of future experience. 
 Nothing thaf could be thought of by loving friends, who had an 
 idea that the sufferings of camp required for their alleviation a 
 large stock of albums, needle cases, dressing cases, and other 
 articles of "bigotry and virtue," had been omitted, and it was 
 a serious question to determine what could be dispensed with- 
 After the decision was made, the knapsacks were still heavier 
 than would be convenient to carry, after Uncle Sams mules 
 should see fit to decline to carry them for us. 
 
 The time passed in daily drills and reviews until the 2Sth of 
 March, when, at 6 i'. m., we broke camp and marched across 
 the Long Bridge to Alexandria. The route was so filled with 
 marching troops that it was 2 o'clock in the morning before we 
 filed into the streets of Ale.xandria, and. shivering with cold, 
 sought sleep on a brick sidewalk, which seemed to have been 
 laid with the hardest side of the bricks up. As man\- of us as 
 could breakfasted at the Marshall House where Ellsworth was 
 killed. The adage of " the early bird" was fully realized by 
 the hungry throng who came late to breakfast and found the 
 hotel larder exhausted. 
 
 \Kg were then marched out about two miles northward, in the 
 midst of a heavy snowstorm. As we were tired and sleep\- we 
 threw ourselves upon the ground with only the cover of our 
 blankets and slept. Awakening, we found ourselves covered 
 with an additional blanket of snow, some three inches in depth, 
 but it certainly created no discomfort to the sleepers. 
 
 On the evening of the 3od-i we marched to the wharf and 
 embarked on the steamer " Commodore," crowding every space 
 
12 
 
 from the lower to the upper decks. We laid at the wharf until 
 morning, when we steamed down the Potomac, still in ignorance 
 of our destination. 
 
 In the early morning of April i, we found ourselves under the 
 walls of Fortress Monroe, and landed shortly after noon. Close 
 to us lay the Monitor, which only a few days before made itself 
 fovever famous in history by its successful fight with the Merri- 
 mac. Not far away, looking towards Newport News, were 
 the masts of the Cumberland and Congress, which had been 
 sunk by the Merrimac before the Monitor came upon the scene, 
 and drove the saucy Merrimac to its hiding place near Nor- 
 folk, from which place it made almost daily excursions out into 
 the open waters, but made no further warlike demonstrations. 
 The Monitor was an object of great curiosity, not only on account 
 of the noveltv of its construction, but by reason of its success- 
 ful fight and the condition of its turrets, the solid walls of which 
 bore the indentations of the missiles it had received, some of 
 which were several inches in depth. With a glass we could see 
 the confederate batteries on the opposite shore and Craney 
 Island. In the evening we marched out to Hampton and made 
 our bivouac in a churchyard under the shelter of the weeping 
 willows and the walls of the ruined church. Capt. Johnson and 
 myself chose a grassy spot between two graves and slept soundly 
 till morning. On waking, I found Johnson scraping the moss 
 off the headstone near him to learn, as he said, with whom he 
 had been sleeping. That day we were marched to near New- 
 port News, but by misdirection went first to Big Bethel and 
 made a circuit of about five miles, and encamped in a low and 
 swampy place in the midst of a drizzling rain. Having no 
 teams we were compelled to pack our rations from Hampton or 
 Newport News; more often from the former ])lace. It was a 
 season of almost continuous rain, and our position was not only 
 filled with discomfort, but the relief of drills was not afforded 
 us except occasionall}'. We could hear heavy firing from the 
 direction of Yorktown, and once the Merrimac steamed so near 
 us that we were called out to be ready for emergencies, but the 
 emergency was not forthcoming. 
 
13 
 
 SiKOE OK YORKl'OWN. 
 
 On the 15th of April, I was appointed second lieutenant of 
 Company "I," by regimental order, vice J. M. Crawford, 
 resigned, and the following day we broke camp and marched 
 fourteen miles in thirteen hours to Young's Mill, to take our 
 place in the front, sleeping with only the shelter of the woods 
 for the night. 
 
 It was the first time we had seen the camp of a great army, 
 and the scene seemed grander than any conception we had 
 formed of it, but it soon became as an old story often repeated. 
 Thousands of camp fires lit up the pine woods in every direc- 
 tion, casting their weird shadows down the forest aisles and over 
 the many groups of soldiers, who were either cooking or eating 
 their rations, or narrating tales of other days, before seeking 
 rest. By degrees the lights and shadows faded into each other 
 and into darkness; and the great host slept — all but the silent 
 sentinels, who slowly paced their monotonous rounds. 
 
 The next morning we were assigned to a position near War- 
 wick Court House, on the left flank of the Army. It was in this 
 camp we made our first acquaintance with a friend that "sticketh 
 closer than a brother," the famous, historic, aesthetic, persistent 
 and omnipresent " Greyback." There were washings and pick- 
 ings, and boilings, and scrapings galore, but for the future our 
 new-found friend was to be always with us, and to constantly 
 remind us of his undying affection by unceasing demonstrations. 
 The sand fly, the jigger and the tick were to dispute with him 
 for the possession of our hearts, but none proved so faithful, so 
 active in displaying their love, or so prolific in offspring, as the 
 xmmortaX pedkulis htimanus, whose memory will be green in the 
 heart of the soldier when the names of other comrades shall have 
 been forgotten. 
 
 As a city, Warwick Court House was a disappointment. It 
 consisted of two old houses— sadly out of repair and in need of 
 paint, one small cross-roads store, the court house, clerk's office 
 and jail, the latter being about the size of a northern smoke 
 
14 
 
 house. Yet some of its papers, which I picked out of the mud, 
 bore date of 1692. The town's antiquity was its only redeeming 
 feature. 
 
 On the 22d of April we marched four miles to Lee's Mills, 
 camping in the dense pine woods, but throwing out a picket line 
 in the open. In front of us was Warwick Creek, across which 
 dams had been built by the enemy, causing an overflow which 
 served as a moat to their earthworks, which lined the opposite 
 bank and whose guns were plainl}^ visible. Each man on the 
 picket line dug himself a rifle pit, and was compelled to keep 
 himself closely hidden to avoid the constant fire of sharpshooters 
 on the other side, and officers posting or relieving them were in 
 constant danger. Our own sharpshooters were not idle, and 
 our batteries were frequently employed to silence a too persistent 
 and vicious attempt to pick off our officers and men, and to 
 develope the position of the enemy. 
 
 On the 24tli, Col. Crocker and Maj. Cassidy rode out to inspect 
 the picket line of the brigade, and failed to return. The fol- 
 lowing day we heard from them through a flag of truce, they 
 having unwittingly passed through an unprotected gap in the 
 line, and been captured by the enemy. The command of the 
 regiment now devolved upon Lieut. -Col. Butler. The ground 
 upon which we were camped was low, and the back water of the 
 creek, added to by heavy rains, kept us in stagnant water, out 
 of which we could only keep by piling up brush for bedding. 
 The drinking water was also bad, necessarily being taken from 
 swampy pools, and nearly all the rank and file, as well as the 
 officers were attacked in the rear bj' an enemy as dangerous as 
 that in our front, and most of us were unfit for duty, even when 
 compelled to take the places of those who were completely 
 disabled, and thus our camp life before the walls of Yorktown 
 became almost unendurable. 
 
 While lying here we witnessed a sjiecimen of woodman's skill 
 that was somewhat remarkable. The ytli and nth Maine were 
 composed principally of lumbermen. They were set to work 
 chopping the pine trees in front of our line of camps, commenc- 
 
15 
 
 ing at the rear and working outwards. No tree was felled, but 
 all left standing nearly cut through until all were thus cut. 
 Then the working party returned to the inner line of trees, and 
 at the ward of command cut through the trees on that line caus- 
 ing them to fall outward upon the others, thus causing them all 
 to fall. There was a rushing sound in the air, and the whole of 
 that forest of pines was lying prone, with their points outward, 
 furnishing an impenetrable abattis of considerable extent, along 
 our front. Instantly our uncovered camp became the target for 
 hundreds of the enemy's shells, and we were compelled to lie 
 close to the ground while shells flew screaming over us, until 
 our own batteries got the range, and after a long duel succeeded 
 in silencing the enemy's guns. That night many forgot sickness 
 and weakness while throwing up intrenchments that should 
 shield us in the morning from a similar storm. 
 
 On the 2gth, our brigade was hastily formed, and with loaded 
 guns, moved in line of battle obliquely to the right through the 
 woods, and be3'ond the slashings until we could see the enemy's 
 earthworks in our front. Not long did our advance continue, 
 for we were received by a sharp volley, the first real baptism of 
 fire we had received, if we except the sharpshooters' fire of the 
 preceding days. Not a man of our regiment was wounded, 
 however, though many a close call was experienced, and we were 
 soon ordered to retire, the object of our reconnoissance being 
 accomplished. That evening the brigade was complimented by 
 Gen. Palmer in person, for its coolness under fire and good 
 maneuvering. 
 
 On the 3d of May an incipient mutiny occurred. Company 
 "B" of our regiment had been recruited originally as sharp- 
 shooters expecting to join Gen. Berdan's command, and, upon 
 the consolidation, had been assigned to the g3d, but was prom- 
 ised to be armed with rifles. Disgusted with the Remingtons. 
 with saber bayonets, which had been given them, they stacked 
 them and refused to serve. The company officers were all 
 ordered in arrest, and the company placed under guard. Capt. 
 Hobart had, before the men mutinied, made a full report of their 
 
16 
 
 grievances and wants, which it seemed Col. Butler had pigeon- 
 holed and not forwarded to headquarters, and, upon learning 
 this fact, Gen. Casey ordered Butler in arrest as well, and the 
 command of the regiment devolved upon Capt. McNett as the 
 senior officer. But, as all troops were expected to be needed at 
 a moment's notice, a parley was held, which resulted in the 
 company resuming its arms until better ones could be issued, 
 and peace was restored to our camp. 
 
 The next day a glad cheer resounded through our lines, for it 
 was discovered that the enemy's works were abandoned. York- 
 town was evacuated, and soon we were ready for pursuit. Our 
 turn to move did not come till late in the afternoon, and as we 
 filed through the enemy's works we could but admire their 
 strength and reflect how serious a matter it would have been 
 to attempt to carr}^ them by assault, deserted as they were. 
 Our route to, and through them, was not without danger, for 
 the retreating enemy had placed buried torpedoes upon the 
 route, and several were killed and mangled b}' unexpected explo- 
 sions. After a rapid march of about nine miles, we went into 
 bivouac at ii by the side of the road. 
 
 WlLLI.\MSUURG. 
 
 The following day, May 5, was rainy, but the boom of cannon 
 could occasionally be heard from the north. Troops were march- 
 ing and artillery being dragged along the muddy roads, and soon 
 our orders came to join the procession. It was hard marching, 
 but hearts were willing, for we were on the heels of a fl3'ing 
 enemy. Soon orders came flying to close up and and march 
 more rapidly. And still the rain poured, and the mud held 
 back our struggling feet. After five miles of this hard march 
 we found ourselves, that is, two regiments of our brigade, the 
 92d and g3d New York, where the booming of guns and sharp 
 volleys of musketry proved tliat our further advance was to be 
 hotly contested. The remainder of our command was not yet 
 up, and we were assigned under Gen. Peck to the support of 
 Gen. Couch's division, which was engaged under the earth- 
 
17 
 
 works of Fort Magruder, one of the defenses of Williamsburg. 
 We formed line, threw off knapsacks, and were pushed forward 
 into the smoke and darkness of the woods, where we lay under 
 fire, giving and receiving volleys all the rest of the afternoon. 
 A natural ridge gave us such protection, however, that we had 
 not a single casualty in our ranks, while we were convinced that 
 our fire was doing good execution in our front, a fact which was 
 attested by the burial parties of the next morning. 
 
 At night we pushed forward through a portion of the slash- 
 ings, close up to Fort Magruder, to relieve a regiment which 
 had exhausted its ammunition, and slept upon our arms in the 
 midst of the rebel dead, thoroughly soaked by a drenching rain. 
 
 We were near enough to hear words of command inside the 
 enemy's lines, and that, with the rumbling of wheels, convinced 
 us that the enemy was retreating. 
 
 This was reported by Col. Butler to Gen. Couch's head- 
 quarters, and permission was asked for us to push forward, but 
 this was for some reason refused. 
 
 At last morning dawned clear and bright on the dismal scene, 
 and we shook ourselves like spaniels as we rose from our watery 
 beds, welcoming the sunrise. Soon the surmises of the night 
 were confirmed. The Johnnies had folded their tents and stolen 
 away. The regimental bands, so long silent in the trenches at 
 Yorktown, now began to play, and really they made better and 
 sweeter music than the shells and yells of battle. 
 
 We were drying ourselves as best we could in the sunshine 
 and by the breakfast fires, and eating the last hard tack our 
 haversacks contained, when the order came, " fall in,'" and our 
 division was soon marching through the mud towards York 
 River to intercept, it was said, a portion of the rebel forces 
 which v/as supposed to be retreating by that route. Finding 
 no enemy, we returned by another road which brought us to 
 Williamsburg and Fort Magruder again, but this time into 
 what was yesterda}^ to us, ■' the other side.'" 
 
 We had left the lines at Yorktown in such haste, and the roads 
 were broken so badl}-, that we had nothing to eat and must wait 
 
18 
 
 for the suppl}- trains and forego pursuit. The common "hard- 
 tack" here commanded the highest market price, twentj'-five 
 cents being offered and refused for a single specimen. It was a 
 poor specimen too. 
 
 All around us were relief and burial parties busily engaged in 
 bringing in the wounded and laying the dead to rest in long 
 trenches, one of which contained 150 uncoffined dead. Further 
 down the road towards our yesterday's position, they lay in 
 irregular rows as the}' had fallen, some still grasping a musket, 
 and some ghastly with mutilation. 
 
 Behind a fallen tree we found the body of a bo}', beautiful as a 
 girl, and with a sweet smile upon his delicate face. He looked 
 as if he had fallen into sleep and were dreaming pleasant dreams, 
 but it was the sleep of death, a dream of glory. "Somebody's 
 darling," we thought, as Ave tenderly covered his shallow bed. 
 
 All through the quaint old town, hospitals were established 
 for both Union and Confederate wounded, and the knife, the 
 probe, and the sa.\v were ever3'where in use. 
 
 For many of us such scenes were new, and we could scarcely 
 accustom ourselves to the horrors which environed us, and were 
 glad when our detail was over and we could visit the famous old 
 College of William and Mary, where so many of Virginia's 
 eminent sons had been prepared for their subsequent careers. 
 
 There was little of interest besides the College buildings, for 
 the town itself was of such a tumble -down and dilapidated char- 
 acter as to be positively shabby, although there were evidently 
 some efforts made to keep up an appearance of gentility. 
 
 During this day and the next we were driven to forage the 
 country for food. Occasional!}- some stray cattle were found 
 and turned into roast beef as rapidly as possible, but we would 
 really have suffered but for the hordes of rabbits which swarmed 
 all about us, and made good eating, only for the lack of salt and 
 pepper. 
 
 The day following, our supply trains came and rations were 
 distributed once more, this time to the most ravenous crowd we 
 had yet been a part of. That evening we got orders to march, 
 but they were countermanded, and we had a good night's rest. 
 
19 
 
 Early in the morning of the gth we were on the way and 
 marched a distance of twelve miles, sleeping in a corn field by 
 the roadside. 
 
 Making another march of twelve miles on the loth, we camped 
 for the night at Roper's Church, where Gen. McClellan had 
 established his headquarters. While here we learned of the 
 death of Lieut. Jas. M. Southwick at the hospital near Warwick 
 Court House, where we had left him ill with camp fever. It 
 was our first loss by death among the commissioned officers, and 
 he was a youth of such lovable disposition and exemplary life, 
 that his loss was sadly deplored by all who knew him. 
 
 Here too an episode occurred which had an important bearing 
 on the future of the regiment. 
 
 Lieut. -Col. Butler was a stickler for dress parades and drills 
 on all possible occasions, and to our great disgust ordered us out 
 for parade. 
 
 After the parade he put us through the manual of arms so 
 long that Gen. Palmer sent an aide with an order to dismiss the 
 men and let them rest. 
 
 He afterwards sent for Butler and reprimanded him in severe 
 terms for not permitting the men to rest from drill during a 
 marching campaign. 
 
 Butler took the reprimand as an unwarranted interference 
 with his prerogatives, and he lost no opportunity of belittling 
 his commanding officer, and succeeded in annoying him so much 
 that he longed for an opportunity to be rid of him. The oppor- 
 tunity came later. 
 
 The 13th saw us again started on a wearisome march to New 
 Kent Court House. The distance was only eight miles, but the 
 route was so obstructed by felled trees, which we had to remove, 
 and our halts were so frequent, that we failed to reach there 
 until 2 in the morning, camping in a dense pine woods. A 
 heavy rainstorm added to our discomfort, but could not prevent 
 us from sleeping soundly, after the fatiguing march we had 
 made. 
 
 Here we were stopped for several days by a continuous rain 
 which made the roads impassable for artillery and trains. As 
 
20 
 
 \vc liad no cover but our shelter tents, we endured a good deal of 
 discomfort, for they afforded but slight protection from the 
 steady rain. A good umbrella would have been a God-send — a 
 last century gingliam better than what we had.* 
 
 WhiTKHOUSK L.\NJ)ING. 
 
 On the 17th we marched at 8 p. m. to Baltimore Crossroads, a 
 distance of six miles, reaching our destination after a hard 
 march in the darkness and mud. The region through which we 
 have been passing for some days is a beautiful one, but the towns 
 are mere hamlets with little but the court house, jail and a cross- 
 road store to entitle them to a name. 
 
 At this time Gen. Palmer found his opportunity fo get rid of 
 Col. Butler. 
 
 On the igth an order was received at headcinarters to detail a 
 regiment for special duty, and he complied with it by detaching 
 our regiment from the brigade, and sending it to guard the stores 
 at Whitehoiise Landing, on the Pamunkey. 
 
 We made the march of six miles between 5 and 7:30 in the 
 morning. All over the open country immense fields of wheat 
 were growing, and the scene was a busy one, for troops were 
 landing and being pushed to the front, and a depot of supplies 
 was being established. Four companies, "A," "F," "H" and 
 " K," were detached for guard at McClellan's headquarters, at 
 Savage Station, and the remaining six companies staid at 
 Whitehouse to guard the depot of supplies. A short distance 
 below the wharf was the residence of the confederate general. 
 Fits Hugh Lee, abandoned by his family upon our approach. 
 Upon the front door was nailed a paper, reading: ''Northern 
 soldiers who profess to reverence Washington, forbear to dese- 
 crate the home of his first married life, the property of his wife, 
 now owned by his descendants. A Grand-D.^ughter of Mrs. 
 Washington." Beneath was written: "Lady — A Northern 
 officer has protected your property in the face of the enemy and 
 
 *Tlie writer had contracted malarial fever before Yorktowii. and on all the 
 march was in a state of alternate chills and fever. In this camp he became delirious, 
 but on the mornincr of the l«th awoke to find the fever g'one. He would not, however, 
 recommend layint.'' out in the rain as a cure for malarial fevers. 
 
21 
 
 at the request of your overseer." Furniture and clothing were 
 left, though somewhat in disorder, and })ictures and books were 
 packed in an upper part of the house. 
 
 During all our stay there a strict guard was maintained over 
 the house and its contents, but its subsequent fate will be 
 described hereafter. 
 
 Our camp life at Whitehouse was neither arduous nor unpleas- 
 ant, but we had little to vary the monotony of drills and guard 
 duty until the last of May, when heavy cannonading was heard, 
 and on the ist of June, trains laden with wounded began to 
 arrive from the front after the battle of Seven Pines, and all who 
 could, volunteered to carry them to the transports in the river. 
 
 This proved a labor of love, for most of them were our late 
 comrades of Casey's Division, and many a familiar face was 
 among them. From them we learned that the division was 
 thrown unsupported across the Chickahomon}', had been sur- 
 prised in its tents, the battle having been fought in the heart 
 of the camp. It had fought stubbornl}- and bravely until over- 
 whelmed by numbers, when it was compelled to yield the camp 
 to the enemy. Not till night were any other troops sent to their 
 assistance. 
 
 Much blame was cast upon Casey and his division on account 
 of the result of this engagement by the reports of rival generals, 
 and McClellan himself reported that "Casey's Division had 
 broken and fled unaccountably." 
 
 Its immense loss in killed and wounded sufficiently attested 
 the gallantry of its fight, and McClellan later retracted his hasty 
 and incorrect report and gave due credit to the division for hold- 
 ing out as long as it did against such vastly superior numbers, 
 and when taken at such disadvantage. 
 
 The impartial historian will probably criticize more severel}' 
 the generalship which placed the division unsupported in the 
 isolated position it occupied, than the bravery and devotion of 
 the gallant soldiers who were sacrificed. 
 
 The day following, a detail of loo men, under Capt. Hobart 
 with myself, embarked on a small steamer and steamed some 
 
22 
 
 twelve miles up the windings of the Paniunk\' as convoy to a 
 gun-boat, going as far as -' Piping Tree " and destroying as we 
 went every small boat and dug-out we could find. 
 
 The river was deep enough for vessels of larger draft than 
 ours, but so narrow that the deck and sides were swept by the 
 low over-hanging boughs, and so crooked that the vessels had to 
 be warped around the jutting points, the bow and stern scraping 
 the opposite shore. 
 
 At Piping Tree some of us were sent ashore to patrol the roads 
 some distance to the north and to watch for signs of the approach 
 of any force. 
 
 Returning without any such discovery, the gun-boat gave the 
 signal to return, and our steamer had the advance down the 
 river, it being too narrow to permit the gun-boat to pass. The 
 object of the trip was to discover, if possible, the expected 
 advance of McDowell's column to join the right flank of our 
 army. We failed to discover it simply because there was no 
 such movement made, although doubtless McClellan had every 
 reason to believe it would be, and felt the disappointment 
 keenly. 
 
 Towards evening of the 13th we heard a volley up the railroad 
 a short distance which startled us, and soon the train due from 
 the front came in, its officers shouting to us to fall in, as they 
 had been fired upon by a force of rebel cavalry, which seemed 
 to be 2,000 strong. 
 
 AH was commotion for a time. Col. Ingalls commenced load- 
 ing stores and baggage upon transports, at the same time send- 
 ing such force as he could spare from the work up the road to 
 check the enemy's advance. 
 
 We had in line some 400 men, including teamsters and sutlers, 
 employes who either volunteered or were impressed for the 
 occasion, and the small field pieces. 
 
 We intrenched our guns and little force as best we could, and 
 remained under arms all night, looking for and expecting an 
 attack, but morning came with no signs of an enemj^ near. 
 
 Scouting out towards Baltimore Cross Roads we learned from 
 the people we met, who could not conceal their glee over the 
 
manner in which the Yankees had been outwitted and fright- 
 ened, that Stuart, with a force of 1600 cavalry and a battery of 
 four guns had made a raid intending to destroy the depot of 
 supplies at Whitehouse Landing, but not succeeding in stopping 
 the railroad train to prevent our being advised of his approach, 
 and supposing we had a large force as guard, abandoned that 
 enterprise and contented himself with carrying away the army 
 and medical supplies from the hospital at the Cross Roads, and 
 departed. 
 
 He had crossed the Pamunkey at Hanover Ferry, destroying 
 some wood barges, and had he succeeded in intercepting the 
 train, might easily have surprised and captured us, as we had 
 no intimation or thought of danger from that quarter. As it 
 was, he made a dashing and daring circuit around our army 
 without any successful result. 
 
 The next evening (Sunday the 15th) a small force under Capt. 
 Barnes and Lieut. Swain was sent a short distance up and 
 across the river to Hills' plantation, where it was reported that 
 another cavalry force was loitering, intending to destroy a large 
 wood supply provided for the use of the railroad and our trans- 
 ports. Later Adjt. Gifford and myself were sent with another 
 small force on a small steamer with instructions to lie off the 
 landing, and, if we heard firing during the night, to land at a 
 designated point and go to the assistance of our comrades. 
 
 In the morning, the steamer had to return for coal, and we 
 landed and joined Barnes' party to await its return. We found 
 that had we landed in the night where ordered, we would have 
 been separated from our friends by an impassable bayou. Even 
 had we found a means of crossing, we would have come upon 
 their front and been received as enemies. So much for definite 
 orders from a commanding officer who has no knowledge of his 
 surroundings. 
 
 The officers of the party received a cordial invitation from 
 Mrs. Hill to dine with her, and she and daughters entertained 
 us handsomely at a well supplied table covered with linen — 
 something we had become unaccustomed to. 
 
24 
 
 Later in the day Gifford and myself, with twenty men, were 
 landed near " Indian Town " with orders to arrest one William 
 Johnson, a citizen, who was reported as visiting our camp and 
 giving information to tlie enemy. 
 
 Our camp was frequently visited by people from across the 
 river who offered to barter fowls and vegetables for sutlers 
 stores, and there was reason to believe that some of these huck- 
 sters were acting as spies and communicating with the enemy. 
 
 Arriving at Johnson's residence we found our errand a pecu- 
 liarly distressing one, for his good wife was expecting an inter- 
 esting family event, and her husband was absent to procure a 
 nurse. The poor woman was greatly distressed and almost 
 hysterical in her prayers that we might leave her husband with 
 her. Our orders were imperative, however, for Johnson was 
 charged with carrying on a regular correspondence with rebel 
 headquarters. So, on his return with the nurse, he was carried 
 across the river and conducted to headquarters. 
 
 The next day, upon our representations of the condition of his 
 family, Col. Ingalls permitted him to visit his wife, under 
 guard, and make arrangements for her welfare, after which he 
 was sent with several others who had been captured in the sur- 
 rounding country to Fortress Monroe. A guard was sent over 
 for the protection of his family. 
 
 On the 2ist of June we had one of those episodes which make 
 a red letter day in army life. We entertained the officers of the 
 gunboat Marblehead at dinner, the party consisting of Lieuts. 
 Martin, Laha, Allen and Fisher, and Purser Mulford of the 
 navy, and Capts. Barnes, Johnson and Voorhees, and Lieuts. 
 Smith, Braman, Swain and myself, of the army. To those who 
 know how the army and navy can fraternize upon such an occa- 
 sion, no details of the dinner are necessary. Suffice it to say 
 that nothing procurable was lacking, and that the dinner was 
 voted a complete success. 
 
 The following day a small party of us procured permission 
 and paid a visit of curiosity to Indian Town, so called from the 
 fact that a remnant of Powhatan's tribe has its home here upon 
 the verv site of one of his scats of government, and traditionally 
 
25 
 
 claimed as the place where Capt. John Smith was taken while a 
 prisoner. It has been asserted that it was here that Pocahontas 
 saved his life. As iconoclasts are destroying part of the 
 romance, perhaps they will deny the whole tradition, but the 
 fact remains that descendants of Powhatan's tribe have quite a 
 community here, though by intermixture with the negroes, many 
 of them have kinks in their hair and have all the other charac- 
 teristics of the black race, but here and there would be seen a 
 tall, straight form, the copper skin, and the hair and features of 
 the true Indian. They are indolent and shiftless, but were said 
 to be peaceful generally, and only quarrelsome when drunk. 
 
 On the 26th many rumors were rife in regard to the move- 
 ments of the army on the Chickahominy, but we were in ignor- 
 ance of the real state of affairs. There had been heavy fighting 
 for some time, witnessed by the large number of wounded con- 
 stantly being sent down to the hospital transports, and the heavy 
 cannonading in the front, and the liveliest apprehensions were 
 excited. The sutlers, as well as the government, had large 
 accumulations of stores at the landing, and, in their alarm, they 
 were vainly seeking transportation for their goods, lest there be 
 a sudden evacuation. 
 
 Among the rumors was one that Stonewall Jackson had 
 turned Porter's right and that there was danger that we would 
 be cut off from communication with the army. 
 
 Our affairs were to-day complicated by the arrival of Col. 
 Thos. F. Morris, with a commission as colonel of the regiment 
 issued upon the presumption that Col. Crocker's capture created 
 a vacancy. 
 
 Why he was recognized under the circumstances is hard to 
 account for, but he assumed command and acted for some time 
 as our colonel. The line officers made no objection because he 
 was considered an improvement on our lieutenant-colonel. 
 
 On the 27th, Gen. Casey arrived from the front and took com- 
 mand. At once the whole Landing was the scene of activity 
 and excitement, and the certainty of some important movement, 
 involving the abandonment of this point as a base of supplies, 
 became evident. 
 
26 
 
 Gangs of men were put to work chopping down the trees 
 along the river, and even the beautiful grove in front of Lee's 
 mansion went with the rest, in order to leave an unobstructed 
 range for the fire of the gun boats. 
 
 The transports were rapidly laden with stores, and as fast as 
 they received their loads, started down the river. Every man 
 was pressed into the work and all worked like beavers. 
 
 It now became a certainty that our right under Porter had 
 received a disastrous blow, and, added to our other labors, was 
 the task of caring for the great train loads of wounded con- 
 stantly coming in from the front. 
 
 On the 28th telegraphic orders came to send all the ammuni- 
 tion and provisions possible to the front. At noon another 
 dispatch directed no more trains to be sent out, as the last had 
 been destroyed by the rebel forces, which had gained possession 
 of the road, and we commenced again to load the vast accumu- 
 lation of stores upon all the available transports in the river. 
 Very soon the telegraph operator at the wharf rushed out of his 
 tent in alarm and exhibited to Col. Ingalls the latest dispatch 
 he had received. It read : '-Go to , you Yan- 
 kees. We will be therein twenty minutes." We received orders 
 to burn the remaining stores, and piling hay and other com- 
 bustibles, wet with whisky, over the immense heaps of rations 
 and ammunition, and firing the piles, we soon had a conflagra- 
 tion which destroyed government property to the value of more 
 than a million of dollars. Sutlers stores in immense quantities 
 shared the same fate. Canal boats and barges laden with 
 ammunition were fired or sunk. One locomotive was steamed 
 up and ran into the river. Another, headed towards the front, 
 was sent to find it's fate in a ravine over which the l)ridge had 
 been destro3'ed, and another was rendered useless by uncapping 
 it's cylinders and otherwise mutilating it. When this work of 
 wholesale destruction was well under way, and the smoke of 
 our sacrifice was ascending to Heaven, what men could be spared 
 from the wear}- companies were formed in line and pushed out 
 towards the front to ward off any attack that might be made by 
 
27 
 
 the enemy until the transports were ready for our embarka- 
 tion. Towards dark the enemy's skirmish line appeared in our 
 front and exchanged shots with ours, but we were soon ordered 
 to embark. All but our skirmish line was withdrawn to the 
 steamer Knickerbocker, and then it was called in. The gang 
 plank was being drawn in when attention was called to another 
 conflagration. The famous "Whitehouse" was in flames. 
 Col. Ingalls sent a large detail to extinguish the fire, but it was 
 found impracticable, and the detail quickly embarked, as the 
 enemy's skirmish line was already in possession of the river 
 bank. Our lines were hastily thrown off and we steamed out 
 into and down the river under the enemy's fire. 
 
 It transpired that the guard at the house, out of a spirit of 
 revenge for the man)' hours of extra duty they had been com- 
 pelled to endure guarding a rebel general's house, had con- 
 cluded to fire it before leaving, and successfully accomplished 
 their desire. 
 
 The next afternoon we reached Fortress Monroe, where we 
 remained until the morning of July i, hearing the wildest 
 rumors in regard to the army near Richmond. Some had it that 
 it was annihilated, and McClellan either dead or a prisoner of 
 war. Others, that it had cut loose from its base, been joined 
 by Porter, and had victoriously entered Richmond. 
 
 The bloody and terrible seven days fighting and marching it 
 endured to make its new base of supplies on the James River 
 are historic. 
 
 In the morning of July ist we started up that magnificent 
 river, with its historic memories, anchoring at night. We were 
 surrounded by transports, laden with troops, with here and there 
 a gun-boat for convoy and protection, and the view at night 
 with the river lit up by the signal lights from so great a fleet, 
 was one long to be remembered. 
 
 Harrison's Landing. 
 
 At noon of the 2d we reached Harrison's Landing, where we 
 found the Army of the Potomac was closely huddled, after its 
 seven days' battle, culminating in Malvern Hill. Towards 
 
28 
 
 evening we disembarked and marched in mud and drenching 
 rain into an immense field thickly studded with sheaves of wheat 
 latel\- harvested, towards the old " Westo\er INIansion." We 
 were making ourselves at home for the night, when unwelcome 
 orders came to take another position. Every man thrust his 
 bayonet into a sheaf and shouldered it. When the march com- 
 menced it was a column of marching wheat sheaves, the men 
 being invisible. Through darkness and deep mud we threaded 
 our way amidst artillery, army wagons, ambulances and ranks of 
 sleeping men, until late into the night, when we were halted, 
 and spreading our wheat sheaves over the surface of the liquified 
 soil, sank into restful slumber, unmindful of the heavy rain from 
 which we had no protection. 
 
 Waking in the morning we found ourselves sunk so deep in 
 the mud that pools of water had collected around each recum- 
 bent form until the skin resembled a washwoman's thumb on 
 washing days. We were not far from the Harrison mansion, 
 the home of Benjamin Harrison, a signer of the Declaration of 
 Independence, and the ancestor of two presidents. 
 
 Without breakfast and wet as drowned rats, we resumed the 
 march and were pushed out some two miles to the front, and 
 with Shield's Division (just arrived from the Shenandoah Val- 
 ley) formed in the center and most unprotected part of the line, 
 the flanks being somewhat protected by two streams which 
 flowed in diverging courses, north and southwesterly, towards 
 the James. 
 
 One of the enemy's batteries was feeling our position, and its 
 frequent shells were a source of annoyance and danger, but not 
 sufficiently so to prevent us from seeking means to dry ourselves 
 and prepare breakfast. 
 
 Seeing a plainly-dressed man in common army blue overcoat 
 watching a cup of coffee boiling, and drying his clothing over a 
 fire of rails, I joined him and was discussing affairs of the day 
 without any idea of his rank, when a staff officer rode hastily up 
 and saluting my companion said: "General, Gen. Shields 
 directs that you silence or capture that battery." "Well," 
 
29 
 
 was the cool repl\', " I guess I can do it," and forming part of 
 his brigade, he moved it rapidly through the woods, and by a 
 flank movement and a sudden rush, captured and brought in the 
 battery amidst the cheers of the multitude who witnessed the 
 gallant charge. It was my first acquaintance with Gen. Nathan 
 Kimball, of Indiana, who has filled since the war, the honored 
 positions of state treasurer of Indiana, surveyor-general of Utah, 
 and later postmaster for many years in Ogden. 
 
 On the 4th of July the national salute was fired and a grand 
 review of the army was held by Gen. McClellan. Shattered as 
 the army had been, it was now fast recuperating, and its esprit 
 du corps becoming fully restored. 
 
 The enemy's lines were withdrawn from our immediate front, 
 so that we were not harassed by the continual fire of their guns 
 on picket line, and the camp began to assume an orderly con- 
 dition. 
 
 The following day we were assigned to the 2d (Wessel's) Bri- 
 gade of Peck's Division, but before orders were received to 
 report for duty, the assignment was revoked, and the regiment 
 assigned to headquarters of the army, for guard duty there and 
 at the wharf, which now presented a busier scene than that at 
 White House Landing. This detail was made at the special 
 request of Col. Ingalls, who said he could not keep house 
 without us. We .were encamped on a fine site between the 
 Harrison and the Westover houses, and not far from the road 
 leading to Charles City Court House, a road shaded with trees 
 of perhaps more than a century's growth, one of which 
 measured nineteen feet in circumference about six feet from the 
 ground, but which were destined shortly to fall for the use of 
 the vast army encamped there. In our front rolled the river in 
 a semi-circle of which our camp was the center. Its broad 
 expanse was covered with gun-boats, transports and vessels of 
 every description, including barges and tows of canal boats. 
 The wharf was a floating one, a platform laid over canal barges 
 for some distance out into the water. Commissary and quarter- 
 master's stores were accumulating on land, and in the vessels at 
 
30 
 
 anchor, which were also magazines of ammunition and ordnance 
 stores. To the right, as we looked to the river, was tlie Harri- 
 son house, and to the left, the Westover. Near it, and not far 
 from our camp, a small grove contained the God's Acre of the 
 vicinity, on whose stones were recorded the virtues of tlie 
 deceased of more than two centuries. 
 
 Some of these quaint old epitaphs are worth preserving, not 
 only for their historical associations, but as specimens of quaint 
 grave-yard literature. Among them were the following: 
 
 '• Here lyetli interred ye body of lef tenant Collonell Walker 
 Asten, who died ye 6th of April, 1656. He was in this country 
 28 yeares. Also here lyeth ye body of Walker Asten, ye son of 
 leftenant Collonell Walker Asten, who departed this life ye 29th 
 day of January, 1666, being aged 27 yeares and 7 months" 
 
 One read: "Hie recondunter cincies Gulielmi Byrd Armegeriet 
 Regii hujus." 
 
 •'Provinciae Quae floris qui banc vitam cum eternitate com- 
 niitavit 4 Die Decembris 1704 post quam vixissit 52 annos. " 
 
 Another recorded the decease of his wife: 
 
 " Here lyeth the body of Mary Byrd, late wife of William 
 Byrd, Esq,, and daughter of Warham Horsemander, Esq., who 
 died the 9 day of November 1699 in the 47th year of her age." 
 
 A large stone was covered by the following inscription : 
 
 " Here, in the sleep of peace, reposeth the body of Mrs. 
 Emelyne Byrd, daughter of the Hon. William Byrd, Esq. 
 
 "The various endowments of nature, improved and perfected 
 b}'' an accomplished education, formed her for the happiness of 
 her friends. For an ornament of her country. Alas, Reader! 
 we can detain nothing however valued from unrelenting deatli. 
 Beauty, Fortune, or exalted honor. See here a proof, and be 
 reminded by this awful tomb that every worldly comfort fleets 
 away. Excepting only what arises from imitating the virtues 
 of our friends. And the accomplishments of their happiness. 
 To which God was pleased to call this lady on the 13th day of 
 November, 1737, in the 29th year of her age." 
 
31 
 
 A flat tablet supported by masonry recorded the death of 
 Benjamin Harrison, who died Dec. ii, 1710, aged 37, and one 
 beside it the death of Mrs. Elizabeth Harrison, who died Dec. 
 20, 1773, aged 57. 
 
 And another recites that: 
 
 " Here lyes the Body of Mr. Charles Anderson, who was min- 
 ister of this parish 26 years and dyed the 7th of April, 1718, in 
 the 4gth year of his age." 
 
 Everywhere around this peaceful spot, as far as the eye could 
 reach, the plains were white with the tents of a great army rest- 
 ing after weeks of terrible fighting, and preparing for the future, 
 and conspicuous among the camps was the one where was gath- 
 ered some 10,000 negroes of all sexes and ages, collected as 
 "contraband of war. " Sometimes in the evening, and always 
 on Sunda}', these people, always happy and contented, but now 
 much happier because of their new-found freedom, made the air 
 vocal with their melodious songs of praise and thanksgiving. It 
 was a series of grand concerts, which few who heard will ever 
 forget, or fail to recall with pleasure. 
 
 On the 8th of July, President Lincoln arrived towards even- 
 ing and reviewed the army by moonlight. The evening was a 
 beautiful one, and the scene magnificent as well as novel. 
 
 Thousands upon thousands of muskets flashed in the rays of 
 the moon as the President rode slowly down the lines with 
 McClellan and his retinue, and thousands of voices joined in 
 shout after shout of pleasure and glad welcome to the man whom 
 the soldiers regarded not merely as their commander-in-chief 
 and President, but as the soldier's friend. His simple presence 
 seemed to infuse new life and spirit into the hearts of those who 
 had become so dispirited from the disasters of the late bloody 
 campaign. 
 
 Nothing occurred to vary the usual monotony of camp life, 
 under a burning Virginia sun, which made duty severe and 
 almost unendurable, until the night of the 31st. or rather the 
 morning of August ist, when an unexpected surprise party paid 
 us a complimentary visit. About i o'clock the whole camp was 
 
32 
 
 aroused from peaceful dreams by the boom of cannon and the 
 shrieking of shells fl}'ing over us in ever)' direction. The bom- 
 bardment came from three different points on the opposite side 
 of the fiver, making a converging fire ujion our camps. IMules 
 and horses were stampeding, the contraband camp was in an 
 uproar of excitement, the terror-stricken darkies alternating 
 their lamentations with prayers for deliverance. Even trained 
 officers and soldiers were terror stricken, and man}" sought 
 shelter in ravines and wherever a shadow seemed to afford a 
 shelter. We could see the fuses of the shells as they left the 
 guns, rising in the air and seemingl}- taking a parabolic curve 
 towards each eye that was watching, and then would come a feel- 
 ing of relief as we listened to their shriek while they passed over 
 our heads. It was no wonder brave men were terrified, for there 
 seemed nothing to do but to wait the will of the enem\' to cease 
 their work, but relief came soon, though it seemed an age. The 
 ist Conn. Heavy Artillery, with several heav}' siege guns, lay 
 near the river, and after the first fright succeeded in turning 
 some of their guns towards the enemy, and obtaining the range, 
 let fly some bolts the size of a nail keg. Never was sweeter 
 music heard than the boom of those big guns, and the roar of 
 their missiles as they rushed through the air, and it was not 
 long before the hostile guns were silenced. 
 
 During the bombardment the river was full of shipping, and 
 the plain over which the shells went whistling was densel}- cov- 
 ered with camps, but the range of fire upon the shipping was 
 too wild to be effectual for damage, and there were little or no 
 casualties on land on account of the range being too high. 
 Three covered our list of wounded and none of the regiment 
 were killed. 
 
 It was remarkable that so little damage could have resulted 
 from sucli a furious bombardment. The only damage which 
 resulted to our camp was from a shell which struck the first 
 tent on a company line, and passing down the line gathered up 
 all the tents in that row and carried them off in the darkness. 
 
 Early in the morning of the 3d a large force was sent across 
 
the river to the residence of Edmund Ruffin, a former member 
 of congress, and a violent secessionist, who was said to boast 
 that his hand had fired the first gun upon Fort Sumter. 
 
 The attacking force had come down in rear of the house, con- 
 cealed its batteries from our view until evening and then took 
 the positions selected in daylight from which to make their 
 attack. 
 
 To prevent a recurrence of such an attack the house and other 
 buildings were leveled to the ground, and the surface in all 
 directions denuded of its orchards, groves and forests so that 
 the country for a long distance was now open to view, and in 
 range of our siege guns and batteries, which were ordered into 
 position and protected by field works. 
 
 Ruffin' s house was well filled with choice literature, and the 
 returning troops brought armsful of books, which served as a 
 circulating library for our camps during the remainder of our 
 stay at the landing. 
 
 On the nth of August we were set to work packing stores of 
 all kinds to the transports, and the extra baggage and knapsacks 
 of many of the troops were also being thus disposed of. This 
 work continued until the 14th, and a large number of troops 
 were embarked and steamed down the river, others marching 
 southward, so that the morning of the 15th we found the six 
 companies of our regiment the sole occupants of the landing. 
 At dark we embarked upon the steamer North America, but laid 
 at anchor during the night, steaming down the river at 6 a. m. 
 the following morning, reaching Fortress Monroe the next day, 
 Sunday. Mondaj' we were landed and marched to Hampton, 
 where we pitched our tents among the ruins of that desolated 
 village, and where we found the advance of the marching army. 
 
 A pleasant surprise awaited us here in the arrival on the igth 
 of Col. Crocker and Maj. Cassidy, they having been exchanged 
 as prisoners of war. We gave them a hearty w^elcome back 
 from their imprisonment in Libby during the past four months, 
 the effects of which were plainly visible in their emaciated 
 frames and pallid faces. Col. Morris now left us, as it was 
 
34 
 
 clear there had been no vacancy to which he could be commis- 
 sioned. The time passed in daily drills, with occasional visits 
 to Fortress Monroe and Norfolk, and frequent crabbing excur- 
 sions to the mouth of Hampton Creek, until the ist of Septem- 
 ber, when in the midst of a heavy storm of wind and rain, we 
 were ordered to strike tents, and at dusk embarked on the 
 steamer Nantasket for Alexandria. The wind continuing, we 
 la\- at the wharf in the midst of a great fleet laden with soldiers 
 till morning. When we started the wind increased to a gale, 
 and we began to drift, and finally it was concluded to put about. 
 In this we narrowly esca})ed going to the bottom, for on turning 
 the head of the boat from the wind, the squall struck her on the 
 quarter with such force as to make her careen as if for a down- 
 ward plunge, and to spin rapidly about. Fortunately she 
 righted with no further damage than pitching us to the opposite 
 side, a composite mass of men, guns, boxes and baggage, from 
 which we extricated ourselves as best we could, and congratu- 
 lated ourselves and each other on an escape with only a few 
 bruises from so imminent a danger. Our next danger was of 
 being drifted upon the beach, as our anchors dragged, and the 
 sea rolled so heavily we could not reach the wharfs. The upper 
 deck of a steamer near us was blown off, carrying its living 
 freight into the surf, but where the}^ were fortunately drifted 
 upon the beach, with few casualties. 
 
 The wind falling, the fleet started again in the afternoon, 
 reminding one of the great Armada of history, as it spread out 
 in the waters of Old Point Comfort, and notwithstanding the 
 roughness of the sea, we floated finely on into the night, the 
 morning finding us steaming up the Potomac, and noon bring- 
 ing us to Alexandria, where bad news awaited us, the defeat of 
 the army at a second Bull Run, and its falling back on the 
 defenses of Washington. All of the Army of the Potomac, as 
 fast as it arrived, had been sent out to re-enforce Pope; 
 McClellan was even stripped of his body and camp guard, one 
 company of the Sturgis Rifles, and the four companies of our 
 regiment, they going as far as Fairfax Court House. 
 
We proceeded to Washington, and landing at the Seventh 
 Street wharf, marched out to Meridian Hill, where we once 
 more pitched our camp. 
 
 On the 5th of September, the four detached companies were 
 ordered to rejoin us and did so, and we now held a dress parade 
 with a full regiment of ten companies for the first time in 
 months. 
 
 We also expected an assignment to some brigade, as McClel- 
 lan was no longer in command. What was to be done with the 
 regiment was a question of interest to us, and what move was to 
 come next was of intense interest to the whole army, which 
 was much shattered by its late reverses, and in a bad state of 
 demoralization. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac had not yet lost confidence in 
 McClellan; it really loved him, and perhaps idealized him 
 beyond his real merits. Anyway, it was deepl}- interested in 
 the questions, who w^as to command it, and what was to be 
 done. The work of re-organizing and returning the scattered 
 men to their regiments was all the time going on. 
 
 The Maryland Campaign. 
 
 On the 6th, rumors that Lee's army was moving into Mary- 
 land in full force became rife, and the camps soon began to 
 show signs of activit)', under the usual orders "to be ready to 
 march at a moment's notice." The next morning, Sunday, we 
 were aroused at 3 a. m., struck tents and formed for the march, 
 but the road was not open to us until 8, when we marched six 
 miles to Tennallytown, arriving at noon, halting for a short time, 
 as we expected, but it proved to be for the day. That night we 
 laid out in the cold September air with no shelter but a blanket, 
 but the armv was content, for it was announced that McClellan 
 had again been called to the command, and great joy was 
 expressed in all the camps as the welcome news went the 
 rounds. 
 
 On the 8th we marched ten miles through a beautiful country 
 to Rockville and encamped near McClellan' s headquarters. 
 
36 
 
 The next day the whole regiment was assigned to duty as an 
 independent command at army headquarters as a camp guard, 
 to report to and be directed by Maj. Granville O. Haller, of the 
 7th U. S. Infantry, one of McClellan's aides and commandant 
 of Headquarters Camp. The duties consisted in furnishing the 
 daily guard for the camp, a guard for the headquarters train 
 ' while on the march, and to strike tents and put them up again 
 whenever a change of camp should be made. 
 
 On the nth we marched after 4 v. im. to Middlebrook, eleven 
 miles; on the 12th to Urbana, eleven miles farther, and on the 
 13th, eight miles, to Frederic City, where we were received 
 with every demonstration of joy by its loyal inhabitants, who 
 had decorated their houses with flags, and now came out into 
 the streets where they had placed barrels of water, and stood 
 with cups and dippers to refresh us, and here and there buckets 
 of lemonade and steaming coffee were added. 
 
 Our march to this point had been through green fields and 
 beautiful scenery, and a loyal people had shown us the contrast 
 between union and secession, as we compared our reception in 
 Virginia and here. Everything they had was freely offered, and 
 the good fare furnished, with the green corn just ready for 
 roasting, became a complete cure for the diseases we had nearly 
 all acquired in the miasma of the Peninsula swamps. 
 
 The climax was reached here, where everything they had 
 saved from the ravages of Lee's occupation was freely offered 
 us. Sweet faced women carried baskets of fruits and flowers, 
 and old women and children carried water to the parched lips 
 of the weary, ragged and sunburned soldiers. 
 
 It was a wonderful outpouring of patriotism, and it brought 
 the good people of Frederic close to our hearts. 
 
 On Sunda}', the 14th, we marched again, and again the eye 
 was constantly gratified by a beautiful and varied landscape. 
 Reaching the summit of a hill we could look back and see the 
 beautiful little city we had left, while beyond stood Sugar Loaf 
 Mountain, an isolated peak rising high from a seeming plain. 
 About noon, as we toiled slowly to the summit of another hill. 
 
we heard the sound of artillery, and as the top was reached, 
 anotlier magnificent scene was presented. 
 
 Before us, South Mountain Range rose like a wooded wall, 
 and up its steep and rocky sides our troops were climbing, some 
 in irregular lines, and some in column, while volleys of mus- 
 ketry and the roar of artillery from the summit and lower ledges 
 told of what they had to meet. They climbed on, occasiona^lly 
 halting for a return volley, and sometimes disappearing in clouds 
 of smoke, now making a dash where the ground permitted, all 
 the time advancing till the summit was reached. It was a grand 
 sight to witness, and when their faint sounding cheer informed 
 us that the victory was theirs, the whole marching force below 
 sent up a great cheer to show our appreciation of their gallant 
 fight in the face of such difificulties. 
 
 We did not reach the mountain top till long after dark, and 
 could see nothing of the battlefield as we wound upwards over 
 the crooked and stony road. Once, in the darkness, I stumbled 
 over a corpse, and we passed burial parties gathering their dead 
 by the light of candles, and near the "Mountain House" a sad 
 party was committing Gen. Reno's body to the grave. Among 
 the wounded lying on the porch of the Mountain House, was 
 Gen. R. B. Hayes, later President of the United States. 
 
 It was far into the night when we finally halted at Middletown, 
 some eight miles from our starting point, but a long and weari- 
 some march in length of time, and on account of the stony road 
 and the darkness, as we passed over the mountains. 
 
 The next day we marched to Boonsboro, a distance of eight 
 miles, but the loads were so obstructed that our halts were fre- 
 quent, and it was late in the night before our march ended. 
 
 On the next day we marched to Keedysville, near Antietam 
 Creek, on the other side of which was Lee's army. Heavy can- 
 nonading was going on till noon, and in every direction troops 
 were marching and countermarching to their positions. In the 
 early evening. Gen. McClellan's headquarters were established 
 well to the front, and it was determined to erect the tents there 
 for the night. Hardly had the lines been established and the 
 
38 
 
 tents bcf^uii to be erected when a batter)' opened npon us, and 
 liaste was made to locate in some more sheltered spot, which 
 was selected close to the little villafjje of Keedysville. Gen. 
 McClellan, however, did not occupy his tent that ni^ht, i)Ut slept 
 with some of his aides on the line of battle. The scene tliat 
 night was one of splendor, ami standing upon the high groimd 
 we could trace the camps by the innumerable camp fires, as the 
 weary army sought to relie\e its hunger before sinking to the 
 peaceful shunbers which precedetl the dawn of a day of bloody 
 battle. 
 
 Before the sun ot the 17th of September shone over the beau- 
 tiful hills and valleys through which coursed the Antietam, 
 troops were again in movement in every direction. Field guns 
 and the heavy guns of the Reserve Artillery were being put in 
 position on ever}' available crest, and soon the air was resound- 
 ing with the roar of artillery', the bang and crackling of musketry, 
 and the cries of the contending armies. Our regiment was kept 
 under arms all day, not far from where la}- the reserve of the 
 army, Fitz John Porter's splendid corps of some 10,000 men, 
 none of whom were called into the engagement, which lasted 
 throughout the day. Some of us obtained permission to go to 
 the hill where McClellan established his field headciuarters, a 
 position commanding a fine \'iew of most of the field. From 
 this advanced position we could see many of the movements, 
 and became such interested and absorbed spectators of the 
 inspiring scenes, the brilliant charges, the incessant volleys, and 
 the heroic scenes the great battlefield presented, that we were 
 unmindful of the scattering shots and occasional shells that 
 saluted our ears. To the right was Hooker's Corps, gaining 
 ground step by step, and nearly cnveFoped in smoke, out of 
 which, from time to time, irregular masses of blue would emerge, 
 as a dash was maile on the enemy's line, culminating at last in 
 a grand sweep which turned the rebel left and brought Hook- 
 er's men to tlie famous Shaker Church. In front of us, occupy- 
 ing the centre, was Sumner's Corps fighting in the cornfields 
 
near the Sliarpsburg road, and every eminence was occupied by 
 field guns, belching shot and shell, and causing the earth to 
 tremble. 
 
 Away to the left, hidden from our view by intervening woods, 
 heavy volleys of musketry and the roar of artillery indicated 
 where Burnside was struggling for the lower bridge of the Antie- 
 tam in the effort to turn Lee's right flank. It was an ever vary- 
 ing panorama of battle, worth all the risk to witness. Night 
 finally put an end to the battle, oiil\ the skirmish lines which 
 were close together keeping up a continuous irregular fire. In 
 our front was the cornfield to the right of the bridge, through 
 which one of the charges were made, and where the dead and 
 wounded still lay thickly studding the ground. All night, work- 
 ing parties of both armies were bus\' gathering them in close to 
 the skirmish lines, and, occasional!)-, braving the shots of the 
 hostile skirmish line to relieve those outside the line, whose 
 groans and cries for help were irresistable. In the midst of such 
 surroundings, sleep was impossible to many. The calls of 
 humanity were too frequent and urgent, l)ut many were so worn 
 out that they slumbered as peacefully as did the dead around 
 them. 
 
 Early the next day we were under arms, and for some time 
 expected a renewal of the bloody work of the day preceding, but 
 no orders came. INIen wondered and giundiled, for all believed 
 that victory must be ours if allowed to press onward. All day 
 we la}' there, the discontent increasing, when long lines of trains 
 could be seen moving riverward in the rear of Lee's arm}-. Yet 
 all was still, and we were told that we had but a few rounds of 
 ammunition per man, and that the artiller\- had but few cart- 
 ridges. The question could not but be asked : -'Is it possible 
 that Lee's army can have any more than we ?" i\nd it was 
 freely asked, even among those of the rank ami file. It was the 
 first time it had entered into the minds of his army to sexerely 
 criticise McClellan, and deplore what looked like timidit}-. Had 
 the (juestion been submitted to the Ami}- of the Potomac during 
 that idle da\- we can hardh" doubt that it would have decided to 
 
40 
 
 advance and to strike anotlier blow upon its disheartened enemy, 
 which was now known to be preparing for, if not actually mak- 
 ing, a retreat from the l)lood\' field where its impudent advance 
 had been so summarily checked. But it was not to be. 
 
 All day numerous burial parties were engaged in the sorrow- 
 ful task of collecting the bodies of comrades, and burying them 
 in trenches near wliere they fell. 
 
 The sunken roads common to that section had served as in- 
 trenchments for many a charging force, and in these the dead lay 
 thickest, but many a swelling slope, which in yesterday's sun- 
 rise had been covered with corn or ripening harvests of grain, 
 were now thickly dotted with the silent forms of those who had 
 so gallantly dared and died under the shadows of the battlefield, 
 and the late green fields were torn and furrowed by the tramp- 
 ling of contending hosts, and the wheels of artillery. Desola- 
 tion had come in a moment to destroy the beauties of one of 
 the fairest spots of earth. 
 
 The next morning we had the well-earned field of Antietam 
 to ourselves, Lee having crossed the river in safety during the 
 night. 
 
 On the 20th Companies I and D were detailed to guard 
 the reserve artillery under Gen. Hunt. In the night an alarm 
 caused us to break camp and move about four miles, to escape 
 a raiding force in our rear, the greater part of the army having 
 moved to near Berlin. 
 
 The following day we marched back to Smith's farm in the 
 vicinity of Sharpsburg, where the artillery and ammunition 
 trains were parked again. His house and barn were filled with 
 wounded rebels. Visiting the quaint old town we found nearly 
 every house a hospital, and in the fields all about us were huts 
 of straw extemporized to shelter the hosts of wounded from the 
 rays of the sun. Burial parties were performing their sad duties 
 in every direction. It was a scene once witnessed could never 
 be forgotten. The halo of romance vanishes from the battle- 
 field as soon as the excitement and battle fur}'^ has passed away. 
 Sadder scenes can nowhere else be witnessed, and the fetid air 
 
41 
 
 corrupted by festering corpses becomes almost unbreathable. 
 It surely " smelled to Heaven." 
 
 On the 23d Company D was ordered back to the regiment, 
 leaving us of Company I alone to guard the artillery reserve. 
 
 On the ist of October we moved our camp some four miles to 
 the bank of Antietam creek, near the bridge which Burnside 
 carried so finely on the 17th, and which would have enabled him. 
 to turn Lee's right, had it not been for "Stonewall " Jackson's 
 arrival, opportune, or inopportune, according to the standpoint 
 from which viewed. 
 
 Here we remained with little to do but perform the ordinary 
 rounds of guard duty, or to ride about the beautiful country, 
 locating the positions of the contending forces, enjoying the 
 prospects, and the beautiful autumn days, until the 12th, when 
 we were relieved by a company of the 32d Massachusetts, and 
 ordered to rejoin our regiment near Harper's Ferry. 
 
 In the morning of the 13th we started on our route, passing 
 through Harper's Ferry, rather past it, on the Maryland side, 
 and after a march of fifteen miles came to a halt for the night, 
 near a large camp, and found our nearest neighbors to be the 
 123d New York, a real Washington county regiment, raised at 
 the expense of the county, a year after it had resolved, but 
 neglected to "raise" us. 
 
 Historic Harper's Ferry is truly a ruggedly magnificent spot. 
 The Potomac, joined by the rushing waters of the Shenandoah, 
 cuts through almost perpendicular walls, and the quaint little 
 village makes one think it is looking for crevices by which it 
 can cling to its overhanging walls. A part of our route was 
 under hanging walls of rock hundreds of feet in height, while 
 below us rushed and roared the impetuous, boiling river, flow- 
 ing between Maryland and Loudon Heights. 
 
 In one place where artillery was being dragged up the heights, 
 twelve horses were straining to their utmost on each gun. 
 
 Here the war really begun, when old John Brown took pos- 
 session of the town in his insane effort to arouse and free the 
 slaves, and we passed the schoolhouse where he quartered his 
 little band the night before he invaded Virginia's "sacred soil." 
 
42 
 
 I wonder if it were given liini to know that "his soul was 
 marching on." 
 
 Resuming our march in the morning, we rejoined our regi- 
 ment in " Pleasant Valley," near Brownville. The Valley is 
 certainl}' appropriately named, for a more pleasant agricultural 
 region can hardly be found, and we regretted that we were 
 compelled to leave it so soon. 
 
 Heretofore, we had been an independent command, but on 
 the igth the "Provisional Brigade" of the Ami}' of the Po- 
 tomac was organized, under the general command of Brig.- 
 Gen. M. R. Patrick. It consisted of the 93d New York, Head- 
 quarter's guard; the 8th United States infantry and 20th New 
 York, Provost guard, and the Sturgis rifles, a company organized 
 as McClellan's body guard. 
 
 The strictest discipline was enjoined, and severe dail}' drills 
 held. We were also put through a rather severe course of 
 instruction under Maj. Haller, who was a most efficient drill 
 officer and competent instructor, and to this beginning, long 
 kept up, we owed much of the efficiency the regiment exhibited 
 when fate later threw it into a fighting division. 
 
 The same vigorous and almost exhausting system of daily 
 drills, and schools of instruction was inaugurated, throughout 
 the army, and although the men were inclined to rebel, the 
 work soon began to prove its value b}' the improved appearance 
 of the ami}-, and an entire recuperation from the disorderly 
 habits acquired during the long marches and battles of the past 
 few months, and the '■'■esprit du corps'' of the whole army was 
 vastly miproved. 
 
 Sunday, the 23d, Bishop Mcllvaine officiated as clergyman in 
 the Episcopalian church, and Gen. McClellan sent us a special 
 invitation to attend. It was a remarkable congregation that 
 assembled to hear the illustrious Divine. The General in Chief 
 was accompanied by other commanders who have become 
 famous, and every grade in the army was represented in the 
 little church, and among the outside worshippers, to whom its 
 small capacity forbade entrance. There was but one lady in the 
 
43 
 
 audience, and her sweet voice led in tlie hymns, ahnost drowned 
 at times by the masculine voices, but it was soon noticed that 
 men ceased singing to listen to the voice that reminded us of 
 the voices at home, so long unheard as to be forgotten, until 
 reminders like this carried us back in memory to the far distant 
 loved ones. 
 
 On the 28th we marched to Berlin, a distance of seven miles. 
 
 Pontoon bridges were laid here, near the site of a destroyed 
 railroad bridge, over which the army was once more to cross 
 the Potomac into Virginia. 
 
 To leave the green fields of hospitable Maryland for another 
 Virginia campaign, was something unpleasant to contemplate? 
 but all were ready, if not willing, to go. 
 
 We had pitched our camp on a slightly sloping hillside over- 
 looking the river, of which we had a beautiful view, and where 
 we could watch all the preparations for crossing. 
 
 One of the comic episodes which memory retains occurred . 
 the first night of our stay here. One tent, occupied by Capts. 
 Johnson and McConihe, with Lieut. Randies and myself had 
 not been pinned down at the sides, and in retiring for the night, 
 Johnson got the down hill side. Sometime during the night he 
 alarmed us by suddenly calling out "Sam 1 Sam ! somebody 
 has punched our tent full of holes." He had rolled out under 
 the guy ropes, and was looking at the stars. 
 
 For twenty-four hours, beginning on the evening of the 2gth, 
 infantry was marching in broken step across the swaying pon- 
 toons, losing themselves to sight in the Virginia hills be3^ond. 
 Then for two days more, we watched the crossing of artillery 
 and baggage trains, and our turn came Sunday morning, the 
 2d of November. 
 
 After a march of eight miles we halted for the night at Wheat- 
 land, Loudon county. The day following, the march was resumed 
 through Philamont to Bloomfield, a distance of eighteen miles. 
 On the 4th we marched eleven miles to Middletown, on the line 
 dividing Loudon and Fauquier counties, and the following dav 
 to Rectortown, on the Manasses Gap railroad, where we halted 
 
44 
 
 for two days, but as we had but scant slielter and there was a 
 cold drizzHng rain the first, and ice and snow tlie second, the 
 da\'s were far from restful. 
 
 On the 8th we rose from the frozen ground with stiffened 
 joints and sore muscles, for our fires of rails had not full)' suf- 
 ficed to supply the want of shelter, but a hard march through 
 drifting sleet of twenty miles to Warrenton, was simply sufficient 
 to produce active circulation, and limber the joints, although 
 this merely changed the form of the twenty thousand or more 
 aches which made life a burden to most of us. 
 
 It was a cold day for the Army of the Potomac, for in addi- 
 tion to the chill atmosphere, our hearts were chilled by the news 
 of the result of the New York elections, and the sorrowful 
 tidings that McClellan was to be retired from command. The 
 former gave aid and comfort to the enemy, and, therefore, 
 brought ns no comfort, while the latter added materially to our 
 sadness, for McClellan was loved by his ami}' much as Napo- 
 leon was loved by the French soldiers, and it had not yet doubted 
 his capacity for command. Neither could it understand why 
 the change was to be made now, if at all, for the enemy was 
 beyond the Blue Ridge, while we occupied every gap, and, at the 
 same time, were rapidly marching towards Richmond on a shorter 
 route than Lee could possibly use. In effect, we were between 
 him and the Rebel Capitol, forcing him to a long detour and a 
 desperate battle before he could hope to reach it, if at all. The 
 army was in good spirits, and believed itself to be marching tri- 
 umphantly to Richmond, and thus it was universall)' considered 
 an inopportune time for so serious a change. 
 
 The tidings were confirmed on Monda}-, the loth, and a gen- 
 eral review was ordered and held, and McClellan, for the last 
 time, reviewed the army he had so long commanded, and thus 
 took leave of us, Burnside being assigned to command. 
 
 Never before did the Army of the Potomac present a more 
 soldierly appearance, and never did a commander receive a more 
 heartfelt ovation. Enthusiastic shouts welcomed his appear- 
 ance, as he rode slowly, with uncovered head, along the line, 
 
45 
 
 looking every inch the soldier, and his farewell was followed by 
 the silence of grief, for McClellan. with all his faults of procras- 
 tination and indecision, enjo3'ed the love and esteem of all, from 
 the highest to the lowest, in his grand command. 
 
 He, himself, was visibly affected, and, at last, overcome by 
 his feelings, abandoned the review, and turned down the road to 
 avoid more troops which stood ready to receive them. These, 
 realizing that he was going, threw down their arms and rushed 
 to intercept him, even sentinels leaving their posts to join the 
 throng which was sadly giving the last farewell to their idolized 
 general. Never was such a scene witnessed in all the history of 
 the Arm}' of the Potomac. Other commanders won the respect 
 and esteem of the army, were followed with devotion and ardor, 
 but McClellan was its first love, which it never gave, in the same 
 degree, to another. Whatever his faults, history must accord 
 to him the power which sways the affections and binds the heart. 
 No man, without virtues of a high order, could have won the 
 heart of such an army. 
 
 The next day we were ordered out for review b\' the new com- 
 mander, but he failed to arrive in time, and the review was dis- 
 missed. Later he appeared, and, after a general introduction 
 to the headquarters officers, he quietly, and without ostentation, 
 assumed command. Our regiment was retained as headquarters 
 guard. The Sturgis Rifles had been recruited expressly as 
 McClellan's body-guard, and, at his request and their's, were 
 mustered out of service, a company of the gth New York Militia 
 (zouaves) being detailed to take their place. 
 
 While at Warrenton, the ladies exhibited their secession pro- 
 clivities in many ways. They kept the graves of the Confeder- 
 ates buried there, daily strewn with flowers, would walk the 
 streets with a secession knot of ribbon or a tiny Rebel flag, and 
 turn up their sometimes prett}' noses as the}' passed a Union 
 soldier, and turn off from the sidewalks, into the dusty or muddy 
 streets, to avoid passing under the flags flying from the build- 
 ings used as headquarters. 
 
 A conspiracy was entered into which proved successful. One 
 afternoon when all the fashion and beauty of the town was out. 
 
46 
 
 flags were stretched across tlie streets leading from the central 
 promenades, so that when the ladies sought to return to their 
 homes they found themselves every where confronted by the 
 hated emblem of loyalty. All afternoon they walked, at first 
 with eyes flashing fire and indignant frowns upon their faces, 
 ' but finally the ludicrous phase of their fantastic dress parade 
 overcame them. Bye and bye one made a dive and passed under 
 without touching the flag and the others followed, some laugh- 
 ing at the joke, and others crying at their discomfiture. It is 
 believed that no soldier ever returned the taunts of these pretty 
 secessionists by a word that a gentleman should not utter in the 
 presence of a lady. 
 
 Sunday, the i6th, we left our j)leasant surroundings and 
 marched twelve miles to Weaversville, crossing Cedar Run near 
 Cattlett's station. Monday we marched nine miles farther to 
 Spotted Tavern, camping under heavy guard by reason of 
 rumors of a cavalry raid in our rear. Tuesday eleven miles in 
 the rain to Hartwood, and Wednesday seven miles to Falmouth. 
 On reaching the banks of the Rappahannock, it was a beautiful 
 as well as curious scene which greeted our eyes. On the oppo- 
 site side, lower down, was Fredericksburg and the frowning 
 heights above it. Squadrons of hostile cavalry could be seen 
 occupying the fords, with an occasional infantry line taking posi- 
 tion on the hills, while freshly dug rifle pits lined the river bank. 
 Below us lay the pretty village of Falmouth. Long columns of 
 our infantry were appearing on ever}^ highway and byway which 
 approached the river. The country about was densely wooded 
 on both sides of the river, with occasional large and small inter- 
 vals of cultivated lands. 
 
 Sunday, the 24th, it was discovered that Headcjuarters was in 
 range of some hostile batteries, and we moved some three miles 
 to Belle Plain, an open s^^ot overlooking Fredericksburg, above 
 which we could now see great lines of earthworks crowning the 
 hills. 
 
 Here we remained engaged in the usual routine of camp life, 
 watching the enemv's defenses grow in strength and e.xtent, and 
 
47 
 
 with little to disturb our equanimity, except building huts and 
 chimneys to the tents to protect us from the cold which became 
 intense and caused much suffering, until the evening of the loth 
 of December, when an unusual movement of troops and artillery 
 gave us our first information that an attack upon the enemy was 
 contemplated. 
 
 The Battle of Fredericksburg. 
 
 Early in the morning of the nth, we were aroused by the 
 thunder of artiller}', and found that our guns, including the 
 siege pieces, had been massed on the river bank and were shell- 
 ing the town and the heights beyond. Soon a detail from our 
 regiment was called out to assist the 50th New York engineers 
 in laying a pontoon bridge across the river. As the boats were 
 pushed out and the planks about to be laid, a sharp fire saluted 
 us at short range from the rifie pits on the other side. Several 
 companies were embarked in pontoons, crossing the river under 
 this galling fire, and landing, quickly cleared the rifle pits, their 
 occupants hastily seeking the shelter of the houses in the streets 
 of the town. The work of laying the bridge was soon com- 
 pleted, and a living stream rapidl}^ passed over, and by 5 o'clock 
 the town was in possession of our troops, which were massed 
 thickly in the streets. While this was being accomplished, 
 Franklin's Grand Division was marching down the river to 
 cross for a flanking movement on Lee's right. 
 
 The morning found the lines enveloped in a dense fog, but 
 the sun soon dispersed it. and the artiller}' duel of the da}' 
 previous was repeated. One hundred and forty guns firing as 
 rapidly as they could be loaded created a thunder that was deaf- 
 ening, and the concussion caused the ground to tremble, fright- 
 ening rabbits from their holes and causing them to seek our 
 companionship, unmindful of the danger of furnishing a soldier's 
 dinner, in the midst of so infernal a din as that which drove 
 them from their shelter. Under this bombardment our troops 
 were pushed out and were now lying at the foot of the hills, the 
 
48 
 
 great mass being centered at the foot of Marye's Heights, and 
 thus in the continuons roar of artillcr)- and tlie lieavy volleys 
 of musketry the da\' wore away. 
 
 Gen. Patrick had called for a large detail to go with him for 
 provost duty into the city and I accompanied it. The troops 
 bivouacking in the streets had been allowed to do much as the}' 
 pleased. The deserted houses had been ransacked and great 
 had been the destruction of property. Furniture, cooking uten- 
 sils and crockery had been carried out and used to make men 
 comfortable, while vases, pictures, ornaments and books had 
 been wantonl}' destroyed. War carries with it the spirit of 
 destruction, and there are men in every army who need no 
 teaching to make them reckless destroyers of what ought to be 
 saved. Here would be seen a man playing on a piano while 
 one or two others were dancing on the cover. There would be 
 seen jokers dressed in silks and hoops which by and by would 
 be piled in the street for a bed to sleep upon. 
 
 Nothing was too fine or too rare or costh' to escape the gen- 
 eral destruction, and the rich homes of the city must long feel 
 the losses it endured during those days of desolation. 
 
 Early on the morning of the 13th the battle again began to 
 rage, our infantry being now engaged. 
 
 Some of us obtained permission to go as far as the Lac}' 
 House, where we could overlook the scene of conflict. Just in 
 front of us were the dense masses of blue forming lines of battle 
 and emerging ujion the plain, while farther out the grand tour- 
 nament of the contending armies was in progress. It was a mag- 
 nificent scene, yet a terrible one, which was pictured before us 
 as if it were a panorama, and no pen could fitly describe its ter- 
 rible magnificence. Masses of blue were closely hugging the 
 slope of Marye's Heights, from which poured down upon them 
 a leaden hail. A beautiful veil of blue smoke would sometimes 
 obscure the view, but when it lifted, the battle scene was grand. 
 Away to the left the dense smoke from Franklin's volleys 
 showed his advancing line. We could see nought of the enemy 
 but the flash and smoke of his volleys, but every movement of 
 
49 
 
 the heroic troops of Sumner's grand division in our front was 
 plainly visible. A mass would form for a charge up the Heights. 
 We could see the great gaps made in the mass b}' shells, and 
 the constant dropping of men under the withering musketry 
 volleys from the famous stone wall, and from the earthworks 
 higher up. Bravely they pressed on until human endurance 
 could bear no more. There was no retreat, however, they sim- 
 ply laid down, and hugged the ground for shelter on that bullet 
 and shell swept slope. 
 
 As darkness came on, the lines of both sides were clearly 
 marked out by the blaze of fire from the muzzles of the guns, 
 as the deadly contest was kept up. Now one could see a little 
 blaze starting from a given point and extending like a flash of 
 zigzag lightning far along the line. Then would come a flash 
 which enveloped the whole line at once, and here and there the 
 fuses of shells were describing parabolic curves in the air. At 
 last the shadows of the night seemed to fall like a curtain to cut 
 off this grand spectacle, and the warring hosts sunk to rest on 
 the field which had proved the valor of America's heroic sons. 
 
 Before the Sunday's sunrise, the battle reopened. Now the 
 artillery ceased its great thunders, except from an occasional 
 gun, but the volleys of musketry were still terrific in their re- 
 verberations, but no movement of the troops was visible. 
 
 By noon the battle began to wane, and soon all sounds had 
 died away, and the veil of smoke began to lift. 
 
 Our gallant comrades still lay hugging that slope where death 
 had reaped such a harvest from the ranks, but a peaceful quiet 
 had succeeded to the din of the last three days. 
 
 We could but wonder what the next movement upon this fate- 
 ful field would be. Would the enemy rally and attempt to drive 
 our army into the river, or would another attempt be made to 
 scale their heights ? Or, would our gallant boys be permitted 
 to withdraw in safety ? The latter we hardly dared to hope for. 
 The former was dreaded. 
 
 Another day passed without a renewal of the battle, or any 
 change in the position of the two armies, and the night of the 
 
50 
 
 15th. our army was withdrawn. uikK-i the cox or of darkness, and 
 a heavy storm of wind and rain. 
 
 This was easy to accomplisli for those in and near tlie town, 
 but not so easy for those in tlie front line. To these, orders 
 were sent to withdraw in perfect quiet, eacli command to seek 
 its shortest route to the river, and cross at the first opportunitv. 
 Thus by daylight of the 16th. all were safely across, and the 
 ritie pits along the river bank were quickly tilled once more b\- a 
 heavy picket line of the enemy. 
 
 Burnside's great battle of Fredericksburg was over, and was 
 a failure. The loss of life was great, and accomplished nothing. 
 
 Many a gallant comrade who had so bravely marched over 
 the river, had found it the river of death, and there was mourn- 
 ing for the choice spirits lost, in every camp, and in some 
 camps, in every tent. 
 
 It was now understood that we were to settle down for winter 
 quarters, and all went to work with a will to build log huts, or 
 square pens of logs, upon which the tents were raised, and all 
 were more comfortable than before. 
 
 Part of our regiment was set to work preparing a new loca- 
 tion for the Headtjuarters camp, but after policing a large space 
 of ground and building a number of log houses, it was decided 
 not to change the location. 
 
 Christmas day had been intended for feasting, but our sup- 
 plies failed to reach us in time, and our invited guests were 
 regaled on common army fare instead of the banquet they ex- 
 pected, but all entered into the spirit of the occasion, and made 
 it a day to be remembered. The last course consisted of coffee 
 and hard tack, and was the same as the first. 
 
 Thus ended the eventful year, 1S62. A year of changes ; of 
 pleasures and pains : of ease .md hardships ; of plenty and 
 hunger; of warm friends made and lost ; of reviews and battles ; 
 of idleness in camp, and long weary marches ; and these through 
 fields bounteous in harvests, and decked with all the beauties 
 of nature, or forlorn and naked through the desolating forces 
 of war. 
 
SI 
 
 In the early spring, ouf rij^lil was in sight of the steeples of 
 Richmond, having marched thither from Fortress Monroe. We 
 left thonsands in the swamps oi tht: ]ieninsnki, many more 
 upon the field of second Hull Run, and the (iehls of Maryland. 
 We sustained defeat and enjoyed victories, hut the general 
 result was to leave us tnrther from the rehel capitol tluin when 
 we began. 
 
 1.S63. 
 
 Little occurred to break tlie monotony of cami) until the 20th 
 of January, 1863, when large bodies of troops were seen march- 
 ing up the river in the midst of a sleety rain. All the troops in 
 our vicinit}' were under marching orders, with ii\e da}'s' raticjus, 
 and all night, the column was wearil)- passing, wading painfully 
 in the deep mud. All night and the ne.xt da}' the rain continued, 
 accompanied by a high wind, which matle the marching of troops 
 ver}' difficult and the movement of wagons and artillei\- impos- 
 sible. On tiie 22d the ami}- was ordered back to its quarters, 
 and, towards evening, began to come in in straggling parties, 
 drenched with rain, covered with mud, and worn out with fatigue. 
 
 Tlie lieav)' guns could not be dragged back through the mud, 
 so troops were left for their ])rotection, and they remained for 
 the winter where they were. 
 
 On the river bank, the Rebel pickets shouted tierisivel}' to 
 ours: ''How are you, Bnrnside ?" And, at one place, they 
 painted on a board, in large letters: •■ Bnrnside stuck in the 
 muil." 
 
 The object of the movement had been to cross at the upper 
 fords, and turn Lee's left wing, but it was a complete failure, 
 and will long be remembered as Burnside's mud march. 
 
 Its worst result was the demoralization of the arm}', which had 
 lost heart, and was filled with discontent and murmurings. 
 Bnrnside made serious charges of insubordination and willful 
 disobedience of orders against some of his Grand Division com- 
 manders, and recommended the dismissal of Hooker and Sum- 
 ner, but this recommendation, not being complied with, he 
 resigned his command, and, on the 26th, Hooker was assiuned 
 to fill his place. 
 
52 
 
 Doubtless, Burnside, who was a man of abilit\- and the liigh- 
 est character, but wanting in the quahties which go to make a 
 mihtary leader, had serious cause for charging upon his immedi- 
 ate subordinates a want of co-operation and obedience, but it is 
 difficult to see how either of his movements could have been 
 successful under the existing conditions, even if a warm co-oper- 
 ation in his efforts had been accorded him. 
 
 Jealousies could not but exist where commanders of equal, 
 and, sometimes, superior rank, and greater experience in the 
 field, were compelled to serve under command of, and be sub- 
 ordinate to, one whose military ability they doubted, and whose 
 command they were aspiring to. 
 
 About this time I had the recreation of a fifteen days' leave of 
 absence, which I enjoyed in a rapid visit to the scenes of home, 
 reporting back to the camp at Falmouth on the nth day of 
 Februar3^ 
 
 Washington's birthday was appropriately celebrated through- 
 out the camps, and, a few days later, we were visited by a num- 
 ber of statesmen from the North, who came in stovepipe hats 
 and patent leather shoes, to find why the Army of the Potomac 
 did not move. One representative was our guest, and, although 
 we were living well, we determined to play a practical joke upon 
 him. At dinner, nothing but coffee, salt pork and hard tack 
 graced the board, and a hatchet was gravely passed from hand 
 to hand, with which the crackers were broken. 
 
 Then he was taken, in an ambulance, to visit other camps, 
 and the jolting he experienced over the corduroy roads was some- 
 thing terrific, while the frequenc}^ with which the ambulance had 
 to be pried out of the sought-for mud holes convinced him that 
 the commanders of the army knew better than the statesmen 
 at home when the army should move. Returning late at night, 
 a surprise awaited him, for the table he saw so poorly furnished 
 at noon was now laden with all the luxuries that the markets of 
 Washington and Baltimore afforded. He soon realized, and 
 enjoyed, the joke that had been perpetrated, and, in the enjoy- 
 ment of the banquet and the speeches that followed witli the 
 
53 
 
 wine, declared that he would stand by the army hereafter, 
 whether it was in motion or in camp. 
 
 Lieut. Moore of Company K having resigned, Capt. Mc- 
 Conihe and Lieut. Ball petitioned that I be commissioned to fill 
 the vacancy, and on the 5th of IVIarch, having received notice of 
 being commissioned, I was assigned to duty with that company, 
 and severed my connection with Company I, and on the 31st 
 was mustered in the new rank to date from Feb. 21, the date of 
 my commission. 
 
 On the 5th of April, President and Mrs. Lincoln visited the 
 camp, remaining several days, reviewing the different corps, and 
 making themselves conversant with camp life. It was not an 
 unfrequent occurrence to see the president strolling about some 
 camp alone, talking freely to the soldiers, as they gathered in 
 groups to welcome him, and sometimes it was not till he had 
 gone that those he talked with knew who had thus honored 
 them with a visit. 
 
 Nothing occurred for some days to break the usual routine of 
 camp life until April 14th, when we had orders to prepare eight 
 days rations and be ready to march at a moment's notice. All 
 were on the qui vive, and many were the speculations as to what 
 was intended, and as usual the camp was full of conflicting, and 
 sometimes preposterous rumors, but no further orders coming, 
 these died awaj^, until the 27th, when curiosit}' was again on tip 
 toe, on account of the arrival of Secretaries Stanton, Seward, 
 and Montgomery Blair, who held a long consultation with Gen. 
 Hooker. 
 
 It also became known that the 5th, nth and 12th corps had 
 left camp and were marching towards either Kelly's or United 
 States ford, for the purpose of again assaying to turn Lee's left. 
 
 Chancellorsville. 
 
 In the morning of the i8th. Hooker with his staff and escort 
 started northward, taking rations on pack mules and leaving 
 headquarter's tents standing. 
 
 In every direction tents had been struck and troops were 
 trudging through rain and mud in the same direction. The next 
 
54 
 
 morning (29th) volleys from across the river were heard, and 
 we found that the 6th corps, under Sedgwick, had crossed above 
 the city on pontoons, and was pushing its way up the slope to- 
 wards Maryes Heights, wliile the ist corps had crossed lower 
 down and was pushing forward to join it. 
 
 On the following morning, we could still see Sedgwick's com- 
 mand on the slope above the city, but the ist had been with- 
 drawn, and was now marching to join the arm}- up the river and 
 our regiment with a battalion of the cSth United States were the 
 only forces on our side of the river. 
 
 The next day we heard heavy firing u}) the river, and was 
 informed that our forces were in Lee's rear, and that success 
 seemed assured. The movement was the same as the one con- 
 templated by Burnside when he failed by sticking in the mud. 
 
 On the 2d, news of Stoneman's cavalry having made a success- 
 ful raid in Lee's rear was received, and that his destination was 
 Richmond, which he hoped to capture before Lee could follow. 
 Great was the joy among those left at headquarters, because it 
 was firmly believed that Lee must already be in full retreat, but 
 experience had taught that it was safe to wait for the end before 
 giving up wholh' to rejoicing. 
 
 It was late that night when we slept, and soon after retiring 
 we were roused at i o'clock of Sunday the 3d to be informed 
 that Companies I and K had been detailed for a dangerous 
 duty and were to start at once. 
 
 Rousing and forming our two companies, we marched in the 
 darkness to the Lacy house, overlooking the river and Fredericks- 
 burg, Here we loaded arms, and were then informed of the 
 nature of our task, which was, to cross the river in pontoon 
 boats, and clear the rifle pits so that a pontoon bridge could be 
 laid. As we descended the steep bank with the 50th New York 
 Engineers a volley from the other side wounded five of the 
 Engineers, one of them mortally. Our orders were then changed, 
 it being determined to lay the bridge as far as possible before 
 sending us over, so all went to work with a will. We could see 
 the gleam of muskets in the moonlight, but worked on without 
 
being much annojed by shots. The head of Gibbons' division 
 sent down from up tlie river to cross here, now appeared on the 
 bank above us, and at the same time a commotion in the rifle 
 pits aroused attention and caused us to drop bridge-making ami 
 take to our arms. Tlie river was about half bridged, and dax- 
 light coming on, we could see the ••Johnnies" hastih" aban- 
 doning their line. A small force was now embarked in boats, 
 and crossing, took jiosition to protect the working party, and 
 the bridge-laying was at once resumed. 
 
 We were glad enough to see one of our signal llags waving in 
 the lower end of the town, and to be joined by a staff officer of 
 the 6th corps, who waited for the completion of the bridge to 
 guide the crossing troops to their destination. Neither did we 
 grumble at the good fortune which impelled that detachment 
 of the 6th corps to come in the nick of time to save us from a 
 fight to effect the crossing. 
 
 We had no orders, but went out with the rest to the jioint 
 where the troops were forming for the assault on Maryes Heights, 
 but were soon called from the interesting scene and recrossed 
 the river. We were allowed to remain at the Lacy house, how- 
 ever, and thus witnessed the movement. 
 
 The corps was formed in columns by regiments, and advanced 
 steadily up the slope. The rebel batteries opened a rapid fire 
 upon them, and we could see the gaps cut through the living 
 hedge of blue, which closed quickl\- again, while the mass 
 moved steadily onward. When about half way up, a volley of 
 musketr}- was poured into them which caused the lines to shake 
 and (juiver, and momentall\- pause, but it was but for a moment, 
 when the whole column seemed to gather strength and with 
 loud shouts charged over the works. 
 
 The dense smoke hid them from our view for a time, but it 
 clearing, we could see our colors floating from the breastworks 
 so lately belching its shells and bullets upon our gallant boys, 
 and could hear their distant shouts of victor}-. The bloody 
 Heights were ours. 
 
56 
 
 Returning to camp we tonml tliat five more companies of tlie 
 regiment liad been called upon to guard the lower bridge, so we 
 couUl claim some share in the credit of the day's work. 
 
 Two thousand prisoners and twelve guns were captured, 
 including tlie iSth Mississippi, with its colonel, Griffin, and 
 twenty-five field and line officers. 
 
 It was a detachment of this regiment which had captured Col. 
 Crocker and Maj. Cassidy before Yorktown, and they now had 
 the pleasure of tendering to their former captors the hospital- 
 ities of our guard tent. 
 
 May 4, early, heavy cannonading was heard up the river 
 towards Chancellorsville, and Sedgwick's command began to 
 move, as was said, to attempt a junction with Hooker, but 
 shortly after noon volleys of musketry and some cannon shots 
 across the river alarmed us. We were speedily put under arms, 
 a large detail was made to proceed again to the Lacy House, 
 and found that a rebel force had come in b}' way of the Bowling 
 Green Road, and hatl re-occupicd part of the Heights, attack- 
 ing Sedgwick's rear on Salem Heights. The bridge we had 
 laid was rapidly taken up, and all the batteries remaining with 
 us were placed in position to assist the 6th Corps, which was in 
 danger of being cut oft, the rebel force being already between it 
 and the river. 
 
 Sedgwick was making a gallant fight and our batteries did 
 good execution. Some twenty-pounders got the range while 
 the enemy was forming in masses between us and our friends 
 and cut great gaps in their ranks. They steadily closed up and 
 pressed onward. Sedgwick was pushing his way towards an 
 upper ford of the river, while at the same time he kept part ot 
 his gallant force presenting an unbroken front towards the 
 enemy. Thus the fight waged on until darkness hid the con- 
 tending forces from our view and caused us much an.xiety. not 
 only for tlie fate of (mu- comrades across the river, but for our- 
 selves, as our regiment ar^d the 8th Regulars would prove a 
 small and inefficient force if our friends in grey should conclude 
 to cross the river and attack us. Several hundred prisoners 
 
were sent down to us from Chancellorsville. and between guard- 
 ing so many of them and apprehensions of an attack, the night 
 brought us little rest or sleep. 
 
 Early in the morning we learned that Sedgwick had safely 
 recrossed at Bank's ford, but this good news was offset later by 
 the news that Hooker had been disabled b}- a shell splintering 
 a column of the portico at Chancellor's house and felling him 
 with one of the fragments. Later came the still more disheart- 
 ening news that the army was seeking the means of retreat to 
 avoid annihilation, and all hope of a victory was gone. A heavy 
 storm that night aided their crossing, and the morning of the 
 6th found them once more plodding on a dispirited march to 
 their old camps. Hooker came riding in looking sad and 
 broken and at once retired to his tent. We covdd see the 
 enemy marching into their intrenchments on the Heights, and 
 soon forces were emerging from the city streets to take posses- 
 sion of the rii^e pits, from which the}' for some time kept up a 
 desultory fire at us, but at too long range for harm. 
 
 On the 7th the President and Gen. Halleck visited camp and 
 had a long consultation with Hooker, and again the air was 
 filled with the wildest rumors — one being, that they had ordered 
 another attack, of which they would be spectators, but of course 
 this rumor and its mates failed to materialize. 
 
 Gen. Hooker issued an order complimenting the troops for 
 their braver}^, and saying, that "for reasons well known to the 
 army, the movement was abandoned." Making inquir}^ I could 
 find none to whom the reasons were well known. 
 
 The nth Corps was blamed on all sides, and was dubbed 
 "the Flying Dutchmen," but subsequent events seemed to 
 prove it undeserving of the severe censure it then received. 
 
 All was quiet on the Rappahannock until the 6th of June, 
 when for several days firing was heard daily up the river, and 
 some movements were going on among the troops, but the most 
 diligent inquiry failed to elicit any information as to what was 
 going on, and even Hooker's staff seemed to be as densely 
 iiinorant as we. 
 
58 
 
 On the lith a general movement begun, and we heard the 
 startHng news that it was to be a race for Washington instead of 
 "on to Richmond." 
 
 On the 13th we received orders to pack everything for which 
 there was transportation, and destroy the remainder. There 
 was no sleep for us that night, for we were to march at 3 o'clock 
 in the morning of the i4tli. and. as we were utterly alone, a vigi- 
 lant watch was kept lest a raiding force might wish to gobble 
 us in. 
 
 At 3 we left the heaps of ashes and rubbish which marked the 
 spot which had for so many months been our home, and marched 
 through dust, and in stifling heat, to Dumfries — twenty-one 
 miles — at which place we slept, with only the earth for a bed, 
 and the sky for a blanket. 
 
 At 4 the next morning we were again en route, and toiled 
 through an excessively hot day, making a weary march of sev- 
 enteen miles to the village of Occoquan, an insignificant town 
 on the river of that name. Waiting here for pontoons to be 
 laid, we were amused and interested in watching the swimming 
 of a thousand or more cattle over the river. 
 
 About dark we crossed and went into camp on the high 
 ground above the river. Following us came the cavalry rear 
 guard of the army, which hastily took up the pontoons as soon 
 as they had crossed, and, posting a strong picket guard, sought 
 slumber on the ground Avith us, until an early reveille should 
 once more arouse us for the march. 
 
 We marched at day break of the i6th, reaching Fairfax Station, 
 after a rapid march of eight miles, before 8 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Here we found part of our baggage, and enjoyed the luxury 
 of a bath in the creek, and clean clothing, a luxury best appre- 
 ciated after such a march as we have endured. 
 
 Here, too, we received orders still further to reduce our bag- 
 gage, but mine was already reduced by some marauder, and to 
 such an extent that the order could not affect me. 
 
 Here we lay, awaiting orders, until the i8th. when we 
 marched to Fairfax Court House, a distance of only four miles. 
 
59 
 
 but a hard march, because made in tlie midst of a heavs' tliun- 
 der-storm, which was verj' acceptable as a rehef from tlie 
 heavy and suffocating clouds of dust which, for the past few 
 days, had hung over our marching columns. Here we were 
 again stuffed with rumors, this time in a form which soon be- 
 came tangible, to the effect that Lee was advancing in three 
 columns, one of which was directed upon Washington, another 
 towards Pennsylvania, and the third somewhere near us, and, 
 as there were several cavalry fights near Bull Run to-day, there 
 is prospect that the battle may be fought upon the already twice- 
 memorable battlefield. 
 
 Sunday, the 21st, heavy artillery firing was plainly heard from 
 the cavalry fight at Aldie, and, as that is forty miles away, it is 
 quite phenomenal that we should hear it so plainly, every deton- 
 ation being distinct and clear. 
 
 On the 25th we received orders to march at 3 on the follow- 
 ing morning, and, during the day, the cavalry came in from 
 Aldie, and passed northward. 
 
 At 1 :2o the reveille sounded, and all was astir as the guard was 
 relieved and rations distributed, after which a hearty breakfast 
 was cooked and eaten, and we fell into line. We marched at 4, 
 and trudged rapidly, but wearil}', through the mud and rain, and, 
 with few brief halts, through Hunter's Mills and Drainsville, 
 where we struck the Leesburgh pike, crossing the Potomac on 
 a pontoon bridge at Edwards' Ferry at 6 p. m. and going into 
 camp at Poolsville, Md., at 10, after a laborious march of 
 thirty-two miles. 
 
 The next morning the weary march was resumed through 
 Barnesville and Urbana to Frederick Cit)', with but one halt, a 
 distance of 22 miles, making our bivouac on nearly the same 
 spot as that we occupied last fall on our way to Antietam. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, the 28th, Hooker was relieved from 
 command of the army, and Gen. George B. Meade was assigned 
 to the command. 
 
 This seemed like swapping horses while crossing a stream, 
 but the army was becoming accustomed to surprises ot the kind, 
 and accepted the change without a murmur. 
 
60 
 
 Meade was little known, except as commander of the 5th 
 corps, while Hooker, whatever his faults, had secured a large 
 share of the affections oC the army. His leave-taking was affect- 
 ing, and all regretted the necessit}' for it, for he had endeared 
 himself to the rank and file b)- devoting much personal atten- 
 tion to their wants and comfort. He had provided rations of 
 soft bread and vegetables while in camp, and, by order, had 
 established corps badges, which did much to better the esprit 
 du corps of the arm}-. 
 
 A distinctive badge was j^rovided for each corps, to be worn 
 on all occasions, and the divisions were distinguished b}' the 
 color of the badge — red white and blue for the i st, 2ti and 31! 
 divisions, respective!} . 
 
 That of the 1st corps was a circular patch, of the 2d, a trefoil ; 
 of the 3d, a diamond : of the 5th, a maltese cross ; of the 6th, 
 a Greek cross ; of the nth. a crescent ; and of the 12th, a five- 
 pointed star. Our provisional brigade was excepted, and hail 
 no badge assigned, although the badge for officers, attached to 
 army headquarters, was a golden spread eagle within a silver 
 wreath. The envious outsiders dutibed it "quail on toast." 
 
 Gettvsbur(.;. 
 
 Early in the morning of the 2gth we were again upon the 
 road, marching through \\'oodbur\- and Ladiesville to Middle- 
 burg, a distance of twenty miles. The day was showery, and 
 many had blistered feet owing to the long and rapid marches of 
 the past few days, and all were weary almost to exhaustion. 
 
 An amusing incident occurred on the route. Near one of the 
 small towns the roadway was bordered by tall cherry trees, hang- 
 ing full of luscious fruit. The trees had as man}' living occu- 
 pants as the limbs would bear, and these w'hile resting from 
 eating, kindly threw down well laden boughs to those below. 
 Gen. Robert Tyler of the reserve artiller}' had been seated on a 
 horse block for some time, and seeing a branch fall near him, 
 reached for and got it just as a private of the' 20th Indiana 
 named Meacham was about to pick it up. The latter, unaware 
 
61 
 
 of llic rank of liis siKc:cssful rival, admiiiistcrcd to the General's 
 l)osterior a kick wliich sent him s})ra\\iin;; in the nuid, and sent 
 his spectacles liying. 
 
 'l"he fun of the bystanders seemed to enrage the General 
 more than the kick, and he ordered me to plac(i the man under 
 guard until evenini;, but durinj; the march he disappeared and I 
 heard no more of it. 
 
 On the 30th a steach' rain was falling, but the order was still 
 onward, and we plodded along some five miles in the mud to a 
 point a little beyond Taneytown where we halted about noon. 
 This was the birth place and home of Roger B. Taney, once 
 chief justice of the United States, and well known as the writer 
 of the Dred Scott decision. 
 
 July 1 we rested from marching to enter ui)on the diversion of 
 making out our muster and ]iay rolls, a task at no time pleasant, 
 much less so where we must use cracker boxes in lieu of tables, 
 and had not suiificient shelter to keep our muster rolls entirely 
 dry. There was some heavy fighting near (jett\'sburg during 
 the day, and the body of Gen. RcN'nolds was brought with others 
 to the rear. Again the camp was full of exaggerated rumors, 
 which, cut off as we were, from outside communication, took an 
 exaggerated form. According to them, McClellan was recalled, 
 and made commander-in-chief, vice Halleck: and Gen. Butler, 
 secretary of war, vice Stanton. Various were the opinions ex- 
 pressed as to the supposed state of affairs, but there was only 
 one opinion upon the fact that a critical da\- for the fate of the 
 Union had arrived. 
 
 On the 2d, the roar of battle could be heard, and we were 
 ordered to march expecting to go to the scene of battle, but in- 
 stead marched fourteen miles to Westminster where the supply 
 trains were parked, without unharnessing the teams, and we 
 remained under arms to guard them. We could hear the artil- 
 lery firing at Gettysburg, and that evening and the following 
 dav received much information in regard to the great battle being 
 fought there, and at last the welcome news that our arm\- was 
 victorious, but had sustained tremendous loss. 
 
f)2 
 
 We celebrated tlie 41)1 by iiiarcliing at 3 i'. .m. back tlie four- 
 teen miles which lay between us and Taneytown, most of the 
 march being made either in heavy thunder storms or showers, 
 but ever)\vhert: along the route we received news which con- 
 firmed the victory, and so our march lost some of its weariness. 
 The night was spent in a vain attempt to keep dry and catch a 
 little sleep. 
 
 Early in the morning (Suntla\) we marched to Rock Creek, 
 near the Pennsj-lvania line, where w'c were halted for orders 
 until 3 I'. M. and then started in another direction to Gettysburg, 
 our line of march being over the hardest fought portions of that 
 historic field. The demolished buildings, the fences torn down 
 to make breastworks, the trampled crops of corn and wheat, 
 and last of all the rows upon rows of still unburied dead, and 
 the barns and other sheltered places filled with maimed and 
 dying of both armies, formed a never-to-be-forgotten scene, and 
 proved how great had been the struggle, how dearly bought the 
 victory. Our camp for the night was close to the cemetery, and 
 in the midst of the debris of the battle. 
 
 The day following we could give mcjre attention to the field, 
 which we eagerly studied from Cemetery Ridge to Round Top, 
 everywhere finding evidences of the deadly storm, in festering 
 corpses of men and horses, with whose sickening odor the air 
 was fetid, and almost unendurable. Thousands of prisoners 
 were being brought in, and we witnessed some 3,000 ragged and 
 weathered out Confederates marching to the rear under the 
 guard of but two men, one at tlie head, and the other of the rear, 
 of the long ami motley column. 
 
 We met many of the inhabitants, and, for miserly sentiments 
 and nearness, they took the palm o\er the much-abused Yankee. 
 At some wells soldiers were forbitlden to draw water without 
 payment, and one man took his pump out to prevent his water 
 being used without pay. The })unip was replaced, and he put 
 under guard and compelled to pump for all who wanted to drink. 
 I ]>aid a dollar and a half for a loat of bread which would cost 
 no more than seven cents in New \'ork. One was lamenting 
 and groaning l)ecause his conifit.'ld had been trampled and his 
 
63 
 
 fences torn down to be nsed as breast works. Another had a 
 dead mule in his dooryard, and wanted pa)- lor hauHng it away. 
 Another had a few bricks knocked off his chimne\-, and. actualK'. 
 presented a bill for 37^2 cents to the quartermaster, to whom 
 some wag had sent him. The joke took, and his papers were 
 endorsed and he sent to another, and toothers still, until he had 
 made a long and weary round, coming, at last, to Gen. Howard. 
 The General, touching his empty sleeve, said: "My friend, 
 give it to your country, as I did this."' But nothing but a stupid 
 look appeared upon the oaf's face, as he left to seek some one 
 who would pay his beggarly bill. 
 
 In contrast with this, we heard of one young girl who was 
 killed by a musket ball while baking bread for the soldiers, and 
 two young ladies from Baltimore, named Callow^ students ot the 
 seminary, were loudly praised for their bravery and devotion to 
 the wounded in the midst of terrifying dangers. Human nature 
 surely showed its strongest contrasts here. It remained for 
 these and old John Burns, to redeem the good name of the 
 people of Gettysburg. 
 
 Orders came to march again, for Lee was rapidly retreating 
 towards the river, and one column was preparing for a rapid 
 march to intercept him, while another was to rapidly follow his 
 rear. 
 
 On the 7th we made a rapid march over the border into Mary- 
 land again, through Taneytown to Woodborough, a long inarch 
 of twenty-six miles, accomplished between daylight and dark. 
 The rains continued to fall, and the march was a severe one. but 
 was renewed the next day, in which we trudged through the 
 midst of a drenching rain to Frederick City. Here, one of the 
 first sights which greeted us. as we formed to pitch our camp, 
 was the body of Richardson, the spy. hanging from the limb of 
 a tree close by. Pinned to his breast was a placard, witli this 
 inscription, in substance : 
 
 ■•Tried, convicted, and hung as a spy. Any one cutting down this body, 
 without orders, will take his place. By order of 
 
 Maj.-Gen. JOHN BUFORD, 
 
 Ci'»i//iaiii/ifi£ Covii/iy." 
 
64 
 
 Many of us recognized him as one wlio had plied liis vocation 
 as a huckster in our winter camp at Fahnoutli, wliere his face 
 had become a familiar one. He had been ccjnvicted by a drum 
 head court martial, and his execution immediately followed. 
 
 The next day — the gtli — at 6 o'clock, we again marched 
 through Middletown to the Mountain House, over the scenes of 
 the battlefield of South Mountain. Here we were encamped in 
 the bowl formed by the surrounding mountains, and. with the 
 8th United States Infantry and 2d Pennsxlvania Cavalr\, were 
 ordered to protect the mountain j^asses from raids and attacks in 
 the rear, and furnished a heavy picket guard for that purpose, 
 and, on the 12th, two other regiments and a battery were sent to 
 join us and lighten our duties, the remainder of the army being 
 pushed on towards the old field of Antietam. 
 
 All were alive with expectation, and impressed with the idea 
 that Lee could not escape, as the ri\'er in his rear was swollen 
 bank full by the copious rains, and all were eager for the fight 
 that should compel the surrender of the Rebel Army. but. on the 
 14th, we woke to the disheartening fact that Lee had succeeded 
 in recrossing the river, and was now be^'ond our reach. Some- 
 body had blundered.* 
 
 On the 15th we marched via Burketts\illc and Pctersville to 
 Berlin — fourteen miles — and encamped on the same spot we 
 occupied last September. Here we learned of the New York 
 draft riots, and the 8th infantr}- started, with other regiments, to 
 the scene, accompanied b\' our best wishes for their speedy suc- 
 cess in putting down this rebellion in our rear. The next day 
 Companies H and K were detailed to report to Pro. Marshal 
 General Patrick, as provost guard, and the 50th New Vork 
 engineers commenced lajing a pontoon bridge across the river. 
 
 On the 1 8th we marched across the bridge and four miles out 
 to Lovettsville, Va., the soldiers little relishing the prospects 
 
 *lt was reporti'd, but I caiuiot vouch for its irulli, Uial, at a council of war. the mem- 
 bers were ecjuaUy divided upon Uio policy of attackiufr Lee at once, orwailiiitr for rein- 
 forcements, and that Meade hesitated tofive the casting vote in favor of attack when 
 so many of his officers opposed it. At any rate, while we were waiting'. Lee escajied 
 and one of the srrandest opportunities offered in the war was lost. Grant would have 
 ordered an attack. 
 
65 
 
 of another \'ii"ginia campaign after a sight of the green fields 
 and a taste of the hospitality of Maryland and Pennsylvania. 
 
 Sunday, the 19th, we marched six miles to a point a little 
 beyond Wheatland, and, on the 20th. thirteen miles via Purcell- 
 ville, making a halt at Welbourne Hall, the residence of Henry 
 Delaney, a fine old provincial home, and, the day following, 
 through Piedmont to Cold Spring Church, wliere we halted 
 and re\elled in a profusion of dewberries, which grew in profus- 
 ion in this mountain pass, but we found rattlesnakes almost as 
 profuse in number as the bushes. Being blind, and about to 
 shed their skins, the}' were exceedingly venemous, but so blind 
 that they struck at random when disturbed, and, so, were near- 
 ly harmless. Our march was along the Manasses Gap Railroad, 
 which had its iron torn up for miles, leaving onl}' the bed of the 
 track to remind us that we were traveling by railroad. Soon our 
 march was resumed, and we toiled, almost climbing, five miles 
 further up the Gap, encamping for the night among the rocks 
 high up the mountain side, at a place called Markham, where 
 was said to be the family home of Chief justice Marshall. 
 
 In the morning of the 24th dense clouds were between us and the 
 valley below, and, when they were lifted b^• the morning's sun, a 
 glorious view was that which lay before us. Eastern Virginia 
 lay spread out like a map, whose only boundaries were the infirm- 
 ities of vision. Ail forenoon we enjoyed the picture, and then 
 came marching orders, and between i o'clock and 7 we clamored 
 down the mountain side taking the Warrenton road and marched 
 eleven miles to Salem. 
 
 That evening two of our men were shot while lying on the 
 ground, probably by guerilla skulkers in the adjoining woods, 
 but we tailed to find a trace of the assassin. The bullet before 
 striking them passed through the coat of a colored servant and 
 knocked a candle out of his hands. 
 
 Bright and early in the morning of the 25th we were again on 
 the march, and though the heat was intense and the road dusty, 
 we made the fourteen miles between Salem and Warrenton be- 
 fore 10 o'clock, and here we remained, in beautiful surroundings 
 
6f) 
 
 until tlie ist of August. We found tlie ladies who exhibited 
 such contempt for us last year in many ways, now disposed to 
 seek our acquaintance and society, and many a pleasant hour 
 was spent in their company, and in some cases the friendships 
 thus engendered entered into the domain of love, courtship and 
 marriage "in the sweet bye and bye." 
 
 On the I St of August we marched to Germantown b}' a round- 
 about route through Bealton, a march of twelve miles under a 
 hot sun. and through a wilderness of stunted pines and oaks, 
 without passing an inhabited house. A number of the regiment 
 were overcome by the heat, and several fell from the effects of 
 sunstroke. Here headquarters were established, and we were 
 destined to remain until the middle of September. The various 
 army corps were stretched from the Rappahannock to Warren- 
 ton, with a heavy picket line along its front and flanks. 
 
 Germantown consists of two houses, eight miles from War- 
 renton, and three from the Junction. It lacked society, and 
 good w^ater, much like another place of great historic fame. 
 
 The ordinary duties of camp life were enlivened by visits to 
 other camps for social purposes, and occasional visits to the 
 picket lines to liave our blood stirred by the sight of the " John- 
 nies " on the other side. 
 
 Occasionally too, the susceptible ones, and they were many, 
 would seek the society of the few secession damsels who re- 
 sided in the vicinit}'. (The term vicinity as used here has no 
 standard of measure. It means wherever the damsels could be 
 
 found), and one charming girl, Miss Annie R , a young lady 
 
 of great vivacit}', and of winning ways, had a host of admirers, 
 
 whom she entertained handsomely. One evening Lieuts. H 
 
 and B^— , while visiting her and listening to her rendering of 
 "The Bonnie Blue Flag," and "Dixie," were alarmed by the 
 approach of several suspicious-looking horsemen. They 
 mounted in haste, and put their horses to their speed, the other 
 horsemen pursuing. On they dashed, until in going down a 
 stony hill, the horse of Lieut. H. stumbled and fell, and that of 
 B. followed suit, mixing horses and riders in much confusion. 
 
67 
 
 H. escaped and came into camp with the startling stor) ot the 
 attack, and that B. was probabl}- killed. The pursuers arriving 
 where B. lay entangled with his horse, demanded a surrender, 
 but luckil}' turned out to be Union officers, who had gone on a 
 similar social errand. Mutual explanations ensued, and the 
 escapade was agreed to be kept a secret, but the camp having 
 been alarmed and a rescuing party sent out, it could not be kept, 
 and our susceptible comrades were long in hearing the last of 
 tlieir ludicrous pursuit and overthrow. It might have had a 
 serious ending, but as it did not. the merriment was great. 
 
 One of the great social events of the season, and one which 
 brought together otScers of every rank, and ever\- porticju of the 
 army, was the occasion of a presentation of a magnificent 
 blooded horse, with handsome equipments, and an elegant 
 sword, to gallant and lovable Gen. John Sedgwick, command- 
 ing the 6th corps, at his headquarters in Warrenton, on the 26th 
 of August. His tents were pitched under the trees in the 
 spacious lawn in front of ex-Gov. Smith's ( " Extra Billy Smith " ) 
 residence, wliere tables were spread laden with delicacies, sub- 
 stantial and spiritual, and after the formalities of speech-making 
 were ended, full justice was done to the substantial repast. 
 Here was invented, and conspicuously tlisplayed in a barrel, a 
 nectar which was hereafter to be immortalized in the memory of 
 the day, as '• Sedgwick punch," whose seductive and insinuat- 
 ing qualities were soon experienced, not soon shaken off, and 
 long remembered. b\- those who yielded to its seductions. 
 Those who ordered carriages for their return, were kindl\- fur- 
 nished with ambulances instead. 
 
 A few days later I was sent to \\'asliington in charge of some 
 thirt\-one prisoners of war, among whom were Capt. T.C. S. Hun- 
 ter, 30th Virginia infantr\-, Capt. John Tayloe and Lieut. John Ta}"- 
 loe of the 9th Virginia cavalr}-. Arriving at Alexandria in the 
 earl}' evening, we found that in some way their arrival was 
 expected, and a number of ladies of rebel proclivities were at 
 the station, their baskets laden with eatables and flowers for the 
 prisoners. 
 
68 
 
 I was accorded a disdainful reception at first, and remained a 
 hungry spectator, but upon the ladies being assured by the pris- 
 oners, that they had been treated by nic like gentlemen, I came 
 in for a share of the viands which proved very acceptable. 
 Army red tape here caused us much annoyance. First as the 
 regular train had gone over the bridge, we had to wait for a 
 special car and engine before going over to Washington. 
 
 There we first reported to the central guard house, (the old 
 police station of Washington) thence were sent up to the pro- 
 vost marshal's office at the corner of 19th and I streets, where 
 after a long wait for the red tape to be untied we were ordered 
 to deliver our charges to the old capitol prison beyond the 
 capitol. Lieut. Tayloe begged to be allowed to make a call 
 under guard to his uncle and aunt, whose residence was next to 
 Secretary Seward's, opposite Lafayette park, and finally I con- 
 sented to go with him, instructing the sergeant of the guard to 
 march slowly with the prisoners and await us on Capitol Hill. 
 Late as was the hour (near midnight) when we rang the bell at 
 the mansion, the inmates gladly admitted us when the cause of 
 their disturbance was announced, and one could not but be 
 touched at the warm reception accorded to the relative whom 
 they saw after long absence under such circumstances. My 
 greeting was also warm, and after an elegant midnight lunch, 
 we made haste to join our companions, and the doors of the old 
 capitol soon shut from my view, the new-made friend, and his 
 companions, of whom I never afterwards heard. 
 
 Returning a day or two later, more Washington red tape was 
 stretched across our path. Though I had a pass for myself and 
 guard from Warrenton Junction to Washington and return, 
 issued by Maj.-Gen. Patrick, provost marshal general of the 
 army, I could not take car until Col. Devereaux, superintendent 
 of railways, had examined my papers and given another order 
 for transportation. 
 
 Saturday, the 12th of September, an intensely hot day, wit- 
 nessed the movement of large bodies of troops marching in 
 clouds of dust. Buford's and Gregg's cavalry crossed the Rap- 
 
69 
 
 pahanock and tlie 2d Corps passed iis, niarcliing towards Cul- 
 pepper. Rumors of a contemplated general advance were 
 rapidly being confirmed and the following day we learned that 
 the 2d Corps had occupied Culpepper, capturing several guns 
 and a number of Lee's rear guard, and that Lee's main arm}' 
 was (Occupying the heights south of the Rapidan. 
 
 On Wednesda)' the i6th, we marched via Bealton Station, 
 crossing the river at Rappahannock Station, thence through 
 Brandy Station to Culpepper, a distance of twenty-one miles, 
 and encamped close to that ancient and musty village. 
 
 The route over which we passed was that over which Pope's 
 running fight had been made last j^ear, the evidences of which 
 were everwhere visible in the numerous graves, and also of the 
 cavalry fight of Sunday last. Our camp was on the grounds of 
 Wallack, editor of the Washington Star, whose residence was 
 occupied by Gen. Meade. 
 
 Heavy rains made the river fords impassable and checked the 
 movement of troops, but on the 22d and 23d our cavalry suc- 
 ceeded in pushing to Madison, south of the Rapidan and occu- 
 pied a threatening position on Lee's left flank. A ride to the 
 picket lines at Racoon ford, by w^ay of Pony Mountain, gave 
 us a fine view of the enemy's troops, engaged in drills and 
 guard mountings in full sight on the opposite side of the river. 
 
 On the 25th of September the nth and 12th Army Corps 
 were ordered to Alexandria for shipment, and we soon learned 
 that the}- were to go to the relief of the western arm}- at Chat- 
 tanooga. As the 20th Army Corps, they won a deserved fame 
 in the southwest, and we saw no more of them until the final 
 review. 
 
 The movement of troops and artillery from point to point was 
 frequent, and we were kept constantly in expectation of a for- 
 ward movement, but each time an advance was contemplated, 
 additional rains fell, rendering rivers and roads impassable, and 
 keeping us in uncertaint}' for many days. An instance of a 
 sudden flooding of the streams, which rendered strategy use- 
 less, was brought home to us. A small stream euphoniousl}- 
 
70 
 
 named Hungry Run, whose course was between our camp and 
 Culpepper, and which was ordinarily a foot in depth and easil}' 
 forded, became suddenl\' so swollen that a five mule team was 
 carried away and drowned in attempting its passage, and we 
 were cut off from town until the next day. 
 
 There were again unwelcome rumors of a fiank movement on 
 our right and rear, and weight was given to them when we saw 
 cavalry in heavy force, followed b}- a large body of infantry, 
 marching towards Brand}' Station, and on the 26th we heard 
 that a bridge near Bull Run had been burned by a raiding force 
 of the enemy. 
 
 During our stay here an episode occurred w hich excited much 
 comment and shows the ease with which politics and war some- 
 times become mixed. It ended in the stopping by suspicious 
 politicians of what was innocently intended by the army as a 
 testimonial of regard for a former commander. 
 
 A subscription for a testimonial to McClellan had been for 
 some time in circulation in the arm}', and the Washington 
 Chronicle, in its issue of September 25, attacked its authors and 
 signers unmercifully, attributing it to an effort to push McClel- 
 lan's candidacy for the presidential chair. 
 
 Among other things it said " the document is anonymous, is 
 circulated in the army in defiance of military authority, and 
 without the avowed sanction of the commander of the army thus 
 appealed to, and condemns the President for removing him. 
 It is the boldest stroke of his political friends, who are known 
 to be of the most perfect copperhead order. Its impudence is 
 unparalleled. The projectors of it could scarcel}' be aware how 
 wideh' it is known with whom the general exclusively associates, 
 or they would not have dared thus to insult the Army of the 
 Potomac," and further characterised it as "a clandestine affair 
 of dislo}al men. " 
 
 The fact was that it originated at a meeting of general and 
 staff officers at Meade's headquarters. Meade was the first to 
 sign it, and generally the signers regretted that the subscription 
 was limited to a small amount for each. 
 
71 
 
 I heard Gen. Patrick say it met with Meade's entire appro- 
 bation as well as his own. It was not therefore "circulated in 
 defiance of military authority,'" nor "the clandestine work of 
 disloyal men." As to its being "anonymous"' all subscriptions 
 are so until signed. Why it should be considered " impudent" 
 for an army to present a testimonial to a loved commander, we 
 could not understand, and it is certain that very many who were 
 glad to subscribe would have opposed vigorously any attempt to 
 put him in the presidential chair. 
 
 To put it mildly. Editor Forney would not have been a wel- 
 come visitor in camp for some time after this, for all bitterly 
 resented his " impudence" in classing us with "copperheads," 
 and "disloyal men," and a new impetus was given to the sub- 
 scription. 
 
 On the 6th of October, however, in general orders said to 
 have been issued by direction of the President, it was declared 
 that such testimonials would be considered in violation of regu- 
 lations, and noticed accordingly, which of course put an end to 
 the movement. 
 
 There was much dissatisfaction quietly expressed, and not a 
 few thought it unwise for the President to interfere. It was an 
 act so foreign to his usual philosophical policy of non-interfer- 
 ence with supposed aspirations of his rivals, that it is doubtful 
 whether he would have interfered but for the pressure brought, 
 and demands made by scheming but powerful politicians. So 
 loyal was the arm}' to its country's cause that none thought for 
 a moment of disobedience, great as was the disappointment, and 
 all soon settled down to the duties of the hour, giving little 
 thought to political schemes, with an enemy in our front to fight. 
 We prayed, however, that the fool-killer might soon visit the 
 capitol, and that he might make no mistakes. While here, too, 
 we enjoyed the privilege of calling upon that patriotic Virginia 
 statesman, John Minor Botts,who, with his three charming daugh- 
 ters, always gave us a hearty welcome, and to hear Union senti- 
 ments so warmly expressed in the heart of Secessia gave an 
 additional zest to their hospitable welcome. One day the old 
 
72 
 
 man was feeling aggrieved because Secretar\- Stanton liad 
 refused to give a permit for some goods he had ordered to pass 
 the Hues; and I made notes of his talk, and wrote it down when 
 I returned to camp. He said : "I will appeal to the President 
 to learn if T have not a right to the protection of the govern- 
 ment I have suffered so much for. What right has Stanton to 
 say I cannot have articles I send for merely because I live in 
 Virginia, when 1 have given sucli undoubted proof of my loyalty 
 and devotion to the Union, and have suffered so much on account 
 of m\ principles? It costs Stanton nothing to be loyal, while I 
 have been imprisoned eight weeks and a day in a Richmond 
 dungeon for mx loyalt}', besides sustaining much pecuniar}' loss. 
 My position en*-itles me to some consideration. I am the onl}- 
 public man in the State of Virginia who has stood firm in princi- 
 ple during this convulsion. You know I am a Henry Clay whig, 
 and, by the way, there is the most perfect likeness of Clay I 
 have seen (showing us a small marble bust). He gave it to me 
 himself a few days before he died." 
 
 On being asked if he did not consider the confederacy entitled 
 to some consideration after sustaining itself so long, he replied 
 with some warmth: "I know the so-called confederacy to the 
 core. It is not a government, but only an attempt to establish 
 one, and now, after more than two years of extraordinary effort, 
 the}' have not only failed to establish it, but have lost two-thirds 
 of the territory they occupied at the commencement. Look at 
 Tennessee I They revolutionized Tennessee by its state author- 
 ities passing the ordinance of secession. Now we see a revolu- 
 tion within a revolution, and the people have brought Tennes- 
 see back into the Union. The confederacy will not last. The 
 war was gotten up to sustain the democratic power, and slavery 
 was only the pretext for rushing the people blindly into it. 
 Such attempts will always fail as long as the svm shines and the 
 moon rolls. It onh' wants time and a little more profitable 
 exertion of the powers of the government to finish the war : or 
 \ou may wait longer, and the Rebels will work out their own 
 damnation." On my saying, as I rose to leave, that I admired 
 
his stand, and felt mucli pleased to have met and talked with 
 a man whose name and acts were now so much a part of our 
 history, he shook my hand warmly and said : ■•! am gla<l to 
 have seen you. Although I am growing old. 1 am glad to meet 
 young men, and give them the benefit ot my experience, and if 
 \'ou admire m\ conduct, recollect it is (;nh' because I done my 
 dut}' as far as 1 could." 
 
 I was so impressed with his remarks that 1 jotted down his 
 exact language as far as it was possible to do so. In speaking 
 of Cla\'. he said : --He was a lovable man." 
 
 Thus we remained, almost daily drenched with heav\- rains, 
 until the October days set in. On the 9th a party of us rode to 
 the summit of Pony Mountain where the chief signal station was 
 situated. It was a high sugar loaf raised above the surround- 
 ing plains, from which a splendid \iew of the situation was 
 afforded. Some marching troops were visible, and as their 
 course was northward, the indications were discouraging, and 
 we learned that some force of the enem\- was crossing the 
 F?apidan far up the river from here, rendering it almost a cer- 
 taint\' that Lee had determined on again turning our right, and 
 forcing us back on Washington. That e\ening we had orders 
 to prepare eight days rations. 
 
 The following da\- the headtjuarters train was sent back, and 
 we had orders to be read\- at a moment's notice, and spent the 
 night without shelter, knowing little but that our advance was 
 to be backwards. Sunday. Oct. 11 at () .\. m. we begun our 
 retrogade movement, and after a march of thirteen miles found 
 ourselves within a short distance of Rappahannock station, 
 where large bodies of our troops were centering and crossing, 
 and we learned that Stuart's cavalry had raided Warrenton. 
 
 The next morning we were reforming for the march, but 
 information came of an enemy in our rear and we formed line of 
 battle facing southward. Other troops were hastily brought 
 back to the south side of the river and joined us, and the line 
 moved forward to meet our pursuers. It was a grand sight to 
 see our line of blue with glittering bavonets as it mo\ed over 
 
74 
 
 the level ground, towards the enemy, ca^^er for a fif^ht with faces 
 tiirned towards the south. 
 
 The\' were disappointed, for after throwing a few shells, the 
 enemy retreated. 
 
 At 4 in the morning of the 13th we were roused, and after a 
 hasty breakfast crossed the Rappahannock, marching eleven 
 miles through Warrenton Junction, to a point above Catletts 
 station, having lunched on our old camping ground at German- 
 town. ■ The army was marching in parallel lines with the trains 
 between, and the march was a difficult one. That night we 
 bivouacked in the midst of the army, which was huddled into a 
 small space with the enemy api)arently on all sides of us. 
 
 There was a dash of rebel cavalry between us and the second 
 corps just about dark, creating much alarm and confusion. An 
 orderly going from Meade's headquarters to the 2d corps at 
 xVuburn two miles away, fell in with them, but escaping, aroused 
 the camp, and a squadron of the escort was at once mounted 
 and sent out. Encountering the rebel force three were wounded 
 in the short fight that ensued, but the enemy escaped in the 
 darkness. It was a sleepless night for most of us, for a strong 
 picket guard was established encircling the camp, and the head- 
 quarters guard was doubled. The few off duty slept on their 
 arms, and the teams were kept harnessed and ready to move at 
 a moment's warning. 
 
 At 6 in the morning Meade's personal baggage with that of 
 some of his staff, was sent under guard of 100 men of our regi- 
 ment towards Centerville, while the remainder of the train was 
 sent by another route. We were informed that we might expect 
 to meet guerillas and cavalry raiders, and ordered to keep close 
 with the trains and ready for all emergencies. 
 
 We marched via Catletts and Brentsville, crossing the Occo- 
 quan at Wolf Run Shoals, and marching on to Fairfax station, a 
 distance of thirty-one miles. There was heavy firing close to 
 Catletts as we passed, and we learned that a small force of 
 rebel cavalry had been cut off by our marching in parallel 
 columns, and had remained concealed in the woods close to our 
 
cainj) all night. We had sa-u tlu-ir horses, picketed, hut sup- 
 l^osed them to be our own forces. 
 
 On the 15th -we marched four miles to near Fairfax court 
 house, and all day la\- within the sound of cannonading in the 
 direction of Centerville, to which point we expected hourly to 
 be called, but remained inactive for the next three da\s, during 
 which the trains remained parked, with teams harnessed, and 
 once the approach of raiders caused us to form line of battle 
 for their protection. Our guard faced in all directions, as none 
 seemed to know whence the expected attack niight come. Even 
 the teamsters were armed and assigned to companies for duty. 
 
 At 2 in the morning of the 19th, we received orders to march 
 at daylight, and willingly obeyed. On the march we passed 
 through Centerville, crossed Cub Run and historic Bull Run, 
 and along a route marked by bleaching bones of former battle- 
 fields to Groveton, a distance of thirteen miles. The route was 
 over the scene of two great battles, and near Groveton where 
 we went into camp, close to the famous "Stone House;" the 
 surface was covered by sunken graves, or spots where the onlv 
 burial had been by heaping a little earth over the corpse where 
 it had fallen, and this slight covering had washed awa}', leaving 
 many a grinning skull, and heaps of bones, bleaching on tlie 
 surface. 
 
 The following morning (20th) we prepared for marching, but 
 no orders came, and we visited man}' portions of the field, but 
 Capt. Johnson, straying a little farther than the rest, encountered 
 a '' gre3^back,'' who ordered him to halt and surrender. His 
 reply was a revolver shot and a hast\' return to us and to camp, 
 where we remained till 4 v. m., when we marched to Gaines- 
 ville, six miles, and slept soundly under the sky. 
 
 On the 2ist our march was resumed, passing through Buck- 
 land and New Baltimore back to old familiar Warrenton, and 
 there learned that Lee's army had all recrossed the Rappahan- 
 nock, the object of his movement being completely foiled. 
 Here we remained until the 27th, and then marched six miles 
 to Auburn, a one house and one store village on " Goose Creek," 
 
whicli iilacc we lelt on the 3ulli, maichin;; to '-Three Mile Sta- 
 tion " on tliu Warreiiton Brancli Railroad, encamping close to 
 the residence ot Col. Murray, who was in the confederate ser- 
 vice. On the ist of November two correspondents of the New 
 York Herald, Messrs. Hendricks and Hart, were captured a 
 sliort distance from our lines while riding for curiosity and to 
 gather news. 
 
 While here we had orders to kee}) eleven days' rations con- 
 stantly on hand and all [hv. indications pointed to a contem- 
 plated advance. Artiller}' was massing, and troops changing 
 position from place to place in every direction. On the 6th we 
 were surrounded by forest and held fires which seemed to 
 threaten us with much danger as the wind was blowing a gale, 
 but in the midst of our fight with this element, we received 
 marching orders for the following day, and on the 7th we 
 inarched via Warrenton Junction to Bealton, a distance of 
 ten miles, four companies being detaclied. and marching 
 four miles farther to Carter's on the road to Kelley's Ford, 
 while the remainder stopped to guard the subsistence trains. 
 After tlark we were ordered forward a short distance, parking 
 the trains and camping just within the cavalry outposts. There 
 was heavy fighting at Rappahannock Station all the afternoon, 
 ending in the carrying of all before it by the 6th corps, and the 
 preservation of the bridge which had been fired by the enemy. 
 The 5th Corps also crossed the Rappahannock at Kelly's Ford. 
 The day's march was a hot one and the dust of the road, com- 
 bined with -he smoke of the fires which were devastating the 
 surrounding countr\, made the march almost intolerable. 
 
 The ne.xt day, Sunday, we inarched to Carter's, and after a 
 long halt, marched to Rai)pahannock Station, tiius being com- 
 pelled to march ten milc;s to lind ourselve-s only two miles from 
 our starting point. 
 
 "We found that the 6th Corps had taken several pieces of 
 artillery and over a thousand prisoners in the redoubt at tlie 
 bridge, and had crossed the river and had been engaged in a 
 skirmish most of th(' day while taking position. We crossed in 
 
77 
 
 the morning and marched to Brandy Station, a distance of 
 seven miles, made in the midst of a chilling and blustering wind 
 which came fresh from the Blue Ridge Mountains, which were 
 becoming clothed with snow. 
 
 Here we were destined to remain for some time, and after 
 two locations of the headquarters camp, it was finally pitched 
 on the nth in a pine grove, at some distance from the station, 
 and we proceeded to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. 
 Here we remained while various efforts were made to force a 
 passage at the various fords of the Rapidan, but they were all 
 found strongly defended. Many a campaign was entered upon 
 and carried to an effective conclusion — in our minds — while we 
 were waiting for developments, most of the time under march- 
 ing orders. 
 
 On the 22d it was freely given out by headquarters officers 
 that the army was to force a passage over the Rapidan, one 
 column at Ely's Ford, one at Raccoon, and one at Germania. 
 The next day our orders were to send all books, desks and extra 
 baggage to the rear, and with ten days' cooked rations to be 
 ready to march in the morning. Heavy storms of cold rain and 
 sleet delayed the movement until the 26th, when we broke camp 
 at 7 in the morning, and marched via Stevensburgh to Germania 
 Ford, where we sought rest for the night in a dense pine forest 
 on the north bank of the river after a trudge of fourteen miles. 
 
 It was Thanksgiving day, but our dn:iner was taken on the 
 march, and no turkey was on the bill of fare; nothing but the 
 invigorating coffee and muscle stimulating -'hard-tack." We 
 gave vent to our thankfulness, however, • in rousing cheers, 
 for a dispatch announced the capture of Chattanooga. 
 
 We started again early in the morning of the 27th, but the 
 roads and pontoons were so blocked by a continuous stream of 
 crossing troops that we did not cross till noon, marching down 
 the plank road, without finding the planks, some five miles, 
 then turning to the right on the Orange Court House road, 
 making some three miles further, and bivouacking at g in the 
 evening about a mile from Robertson's Tavern. On our route 
 
78 
 
 we passed an abandonecl cjuartz mill and the once rich gold 
 mine, Vanchise. We are in a part of the region known as the 
 Wilderness. The next day the whole line was pushed forward. 
 fighting its way to Mine Run, Headquarters remaining at the 
 Tavern. A cold drizzling rain added much to the difificidties and 
 discomforts of the movement. 
 
 On the third day still further athance was made and better 
 positions gained, although each step was stubbornly contested 
 Towards evening it became suddenly bitterly cold, and we were 
 compelled to make a march of some two miles further towards 
 the front, over the rough and stony pike, in stiffening mud. 
 The colli grew intense, and caused much suffering. To add to 
 our discomfort, we were short of rations, and without any shel- 
 ter, the baggage trains not being unpacked. To keep our- 
 selves from freezing we built long piles of rails, and kindled 
 fires, lying closely with our feet toward the fires. It was a night 
 long to be remembered. Men froze to death upon the picket 
 lines, and when we attempted to rise in the earl\- morning of the 
 30th we found ourselves pinned to the ground,- our blankets and 
 overcoats being frozen in the mud. As we had slept in our over- 
 coats, we had to slip out of them to rise, and thaw the frozen 
 ground to regain them. We moved back about a mile, and la\' 
 all day within the sound of artillery and some musketry volleys, 
 awaiting expected orders, but, none coming, we prepared our- 
 selves for another bitterly cold night, this time making our bed 
 upon the cold and hard frozen surface of mother earth instead 
 the soft and yielding mud we had begun our sleep in the night 
 preceding. 
 
 The morning of December ist o})ened bleak and cold, and the 
 benumbed soldiers were not sorry to fall in for a march, the 
 quickstep of which was to warm the blood, and free the aching, 
 stiffened limbs from their pains. It was now apparent that our 
 movement was to be abandoned, and our march a backward one. 
 
 The road was blocked by artillery and trains passing to the 
 rear, so that our fourteen-mile march of that da}- was one of con- 
 siderable miser\ and weariness, but we managed to reach the 
 
79 
 
 river at Culpepper Mine Ford and cross it, bi\ouacking again on 
 the frozen ground. This ford takes its name from the Melville 
 gold mine, which is said to have been producing $200 per day at 
 the outbreak of the war. It is now abandoned, and a fine quartz 
 mill is rapidly going to ruin. 
 
 Again at sunrise we were under marcliing orders, but as the 
 whole army was crossing tlie river, and every road and pathway 
 filled with marching troops, wagons and artiller}-. we did not get 
 the road until 3 in the afternoon, making a wear}' march of eleven 
 miles before we were allowed, at midnight, to drop to rest at 
 the side of the road, and sleep until daylight of the 3d. when we 
 resumed the wa}', and. after a march of five miles, found our- 
 selves at our old camp near Brandy Station, rejoicing that the 
 Mine Run campaign of seven days was over, and wondering 
 what would come next. 
 
 For two days the camps were alive with rumors that the enemy 
 was advancing upon us, and heavy firing in the direction of the 
 river, gave color to the flying rumors. Besides, on the 5th there 
 was unusual stir in the camp, men being everywhere under 
 marching orders, and the horses being kept harnessed to the 
 guns and the trains, but this excitement subsided, and on the 
 7th orders to prepare winter (|uarters were sent to the various 
 arm}' corps, and we l^egan to arrange for a winter of compara- 
 tive comfort and idleness. At once the work of re-enlisting as 
 veterans commenced, and a very large proportion of the army 
 responded to the invitation, a patriotic response that was cheer- 
 ing to the heart of the nation, for it gave the assurance that the 
 veteran arm}- w-ould not be replaced by raw levies, as many had 
 predicted, and more had feared. 
 
 For some time I had chafed under the idea that the regiment, 
 having taken the field to do its share in fighting the enemy, 
 should so long have been kept from active participation in the 
 battles of its comrades, and, although sharing all the marches 
 of the army, frequently in great danger, and occupying a posi- 
 tion of great honor and trust, that of guarding the headtjuarters 
 of the general commanding, a position whicli was longed for by 
 
80 
 
 many a regiment, it was not winning the laurels of war, and 1 
 longed for more active campaigning. So when Col. Nelson A. 
 Miles, commanding a brigade in the fighting 2d army corps 
 invited me to take the position of aide upon his staff, the invita- 
 tfon was gladly accepted and his application for the detail hav- 
 ing passed favorably through the military channels, and the 
 detail having been made by Gen. Meade in special orders dated 
 Dec. 23, on the following day I bade farewell to my regiment, 
 and reported for dnt) , as aiile-de-camp on the stafi of the com- 
 manding ofificer of the ist Brigade, ist Dixision, 2d Army Corps, 
 'n camp near Stevensburg, with which my army fortune was 
 hereafter to be cast. For a time there was excitement enough 
 in learning the position of the troops, the picket line, and the 
 duties of the new position. Our brigade headquarters was 
 pleasant!}- situated under the shelter of a steep hill, not far 
 either from division or corps headquarters, and the new com- 
 panions were all that could be desired; men who, in the marches 
 and battles that followed, proved worthy of a comrade's love 
 and faith. 
 
 There was Miles, colonel of the 61st New York, long a com. 
 mander of the brigade, but kept from richly-merited promotion 
 by want of the political influence that crowtled others into unde- 
 served positions. 
 
 Young, enthusiastic, handsome, and every inch the soldier, 
 he was, on duty, the commander : off duty, hail fellow well met 
 witli all of us, a constant friend, as much the boy as any of us. 
 There also was Lieut. John B. Hallenbeck, my brother aid, a 
 handsome boy in a})pearance, but the \eteran of many battle- 
 fields. His bright face was always ready with a smile which 
 won the hearts of all who met him. He was a favorite with the 
 command, a lovable character, too soon to leave us to mourn for 
 him. There was also Capt. George H. Caldwell, assistant 
 adjutant general, brother tf) the General then commanding 
 division, whose frank heart)- ways were captivating, and Capt. 
 Hamilton A. Mattison, inspector general, big-hearted, jovial 
 and true, who succeeded gallant Capt. Willard Keech. The 
 
81 
 
 inner man was in charge of dashing Capt. R. W. Thompson, A.. 
 C. S. Dick was all we ever called him. Not yet 21, he had 
 already acquired the reputation of being one of the best com- 
 missaries in the army, a re})utation well earned and fairh' 
 deserved. The outward man was cared for by Capt. David H. 
 Pattison of the 26th Michigan Volunteers acting A. Q. M., and, 
 taken together, it was a militar\- family that one could always be 
 proud to have been a membfer of. In the reorganization of the 
 Army of the Potomac, which was made that winter, Caldwell 
 was relieved from the command of the Division, and Gen. 
 Francis C. Barlow, who had stopped eleven bullets at Gettys- 
 burgh, and been left on the held as dead, was placed in com- 
 mand, and Gen. Winfield S. Hancock, also severely wounded at 
 Gettysburg, was assigned to the command of the corps. 
 
 Our brigade was composed of the 6ist New York, commanded 
 by Lieut. -Col. K. O. Broady, rugged and brave: the 81 st 
 Pennsylvania, commanded by Col. H. Boyd McKean, brave as 
 a knight, courtly as a Bayard, and aimable as a woman ; the 
 140th Pennsylvania, commanded by Col. John Fraser, a true 
 gentleman, a fine scholar, who had won fame as an astronomer ; 
 and tlie 26th Michigan, commanded by Lieut. -Col. Judson S. 
 Farrar, a worthy leader of one of the best regiments in the 
 service. Later was added the 183d Pennsylvania, commanded 
 by Col. McLean, one of the regiments raised and equipped by 
 the Loyal League of Philadelphia, and new to the service, its 
 officers and men being raw recruits, who had yet everything to 
 learn as soldiers, and who were to have a costly lesson before 
 it was learned. 
 
 During the winter, a complete reorganization of the army was 
 made. A portion of the 3d corps was assigned to, and consoli- 
 dated with, the 2d, and the g3d New York was relieved from 
 duty at headquarters and assigned to the ist brigade of that 
 organization, which now became the 2d Division of the 2d Corps, 
 It was destined to suffer greater loss in the campaign which 
 followed than many a regiment that had always been in a fight- 
 ing command, and to win an imperishable renown, but at a ter- 
 
82 
 
 rible cost. The most important change for us was the advent of 
 Grant, who assumed the direction of the Arm\- of the Potomac, 
 leaving Meade in immediate command under liim. Without 
 regard to tlie qualities of Grant as a commander, it was a wise 
 step to create the office of lieutenant general, for it put an end 
 to the scheming of envious minds among those of equal grade 
 as major generals, ami the presence of an officer of superior 
 rank rendered it impossible for malicious, and sometimes false, 
 reports to succeed in undoing the commander. He was intro- 
 duced to us at a series of grand reviews, and at once took a strong 
 hold upon the arm}', which was ready and (]ualified to criticise 
 its officers, and generally did so freely and without reserve. 
 From the first, this criticism was favorable to Grant, and left no 
 prejudice to overcome. 
 
 Fro.m iHK Wilderness to Spoitsvlvaxia. 
 
 1864. 
 
 So, at the beginning of the Wilderness campaign, it was my 
 fortune to be serving as aide-de-camp to a gallant and success- 
 ful brigade commander, who, in the bloody days which followed, 
 won the stars of a major-general, has since become fametl tor 
 his brilliant Indian campaigns, and is now a major-general in 
 the Regular Arm\ — General Nelson A. Miles. 
 
 The brigade was the first of the ist division 1 Barlow's* of 
 the grand old 2d Army Corps, commanded b\ Hancock — " tiie 
 su})erb. '" 
 
 The proud, historic boast of our division was that it had nexer 
 lost a gun (jr a color, althougli its colors had gleamed and 
 flashed, and its guns had thundered in the very front, on cvcr\' 
 battlefield of the Army of the Potomac. No other division of 
 the Armies of the Union could boast of such distinction. 
 
 Our badge was the far-famed red trefoil, the boys called it 
 " the ace of clubs," and in all our campaigns clubs were trumjis. 
 
 The New Year opened with an intense, cold spell, and will 
 long be known througliout the country as "the cold New Years," 
 
but we made the best of it and improvising sleds, enjoyed 
 sleigh rides as long as the snow lasted. 
 
 A winter in tents, engaged in daily drills, guard mountings, 
 parades, and working parties is liable to become monotonous, 
 and even such intellectual amusements as card-playing and 
 horse-racing become stale and uninteresting. 
 
 Visits to other camps, long rides along the picket line, leaping 
 fences and ditches to try the mettle of our horses; or down to 
 the river fords to have a chat with the Johnnie Rebs on their 
 outposts failed to be exciting long before the winter passed. 
 
 Games of ball, football and ''shinny" were played until all 
 interest was lost in them. Beans were lost and won on all 
 sorts of games of chance, until beans palled on the sight, as 
 they had long before on the soldiers' taste. 
 
 When Washington's birthday came, it was celebrated by a 
 grand ball, in a large hall built for the purpose, roofed with 
 canvas, and decorated with flags and evergreens, stacks of 
 muskets and a couple of brass Napoleon's, making a reallv 
 beautiful interior. 
 
 Many of the officers' wives and daughters were spending the 
 winter in camp, and hundreds more came expressly for the 
 occasion. The vice president and a number of senators with 
 their wives were there, and Gov. Curtm and wife acted as con- 
 voy for a bevy of ladies from Washington, Baltimore, Philadel- 
 phia and New York. Generals Meade, Hancock, Warren, 
 Pleasanton. Kilpatrick and others were there, and so was One- 
 Legged Dahlgren, whose sad fate it was a few days later, to be 
 killed in his raid on Richmond. 
 
 It was a scene of beauty, gallantr}- and chivalrv, and the 
 dawn paled the thousand tapers which lighted the hall, before 
 the dance was ended. It was the vision of a night, and seemed 
 altogether unreal — as if it were some fair}' palace, risen in a 
 night, and whose revelling occupants, after tripping gaily in the 
 fairy dance, fled with the ushering in of day. 
 
 Then we of the ist Division resolved to organize a lecture 
 bureau, and erected a hall of ample dimensions at our head- 
 
84 
 
 (luarters. It was inaugurated early in March by a grand concert 
 for the benefit of the Division band — admission, one dollar. 
 
 M\ printed program recalls the tact that few concerts of 
 today can show a more brilliant repertoire, and few performers 
 have been more heartily applauded. 
 
 We found difficulty in procuring lecturers, to educate the 
 mind, so we filled up the time with frecpient hops to educate the 
 feet, and at these, the male persuasion so far outnumbered the 
 female, that the ladies got their fill of dancing, and many a sham 
 fight was engaged in to determine who should secure the fair 
 partners for a quadrille. 
 
 At last, " Grace Greenwood " consented to visit us for a course 
 of two lectures. The firs^ was, " The Silver Lining to the War 
 Cloud;" the second, '• W^ashington, London and Rome," both 
 delivered with the charming grace, and tender pathos for which 
 she was famous. 
 
 She says of it, in her "Records of Five Years," "An audience 
 so illustrious, I had surely never confronted before. Groups of 
 young officers sparkled around their generals like planets around 
 their central orbs; in front was a starry sprinkling of ladies: and 
 here and there, through the hall, were scattered civilians look- 
 ing remote, dim and nebulous." 
 
 She learned in the hop that followed that her heroes could 
 "wheel in the waltz, change base in the quadrille, deploy in the 
 lancers, charge in the polka, and execute flank movements in 
 the Virginia reel." 
 
 The next da\- was "St. Patrick's da\- in the morning." and 
 the gallant Irish brigade under Meagher, (our second brigade) 
 had made great preparations for a proper observance of the 
 day. First there was a hurdle race where hurdles three and 
 four feet high, and ditches four and six feet wide, must be 
 cleared by the bold riders, and several horses and riders rolled 
 together in the ditches, as a penalty for testing their leaping 
 cai^acity too far. 
 
 Then climbing the well-soaped pole, or chasing the greased 
 and shaven pig which must be caught and held by a four-inch 
 
85 
 
 tail; racing in sacks, racing in wheelbarrows, and kindred sports, 
 enlivened and closed the anuisement of the da\'. It was a scene 
 to remind one of the jousts and tournaments of the days of 
 chivalry; and now. as then, fair hands crowned the victor, not 
 disdaining to deliver the trophies of valor to the winner, whetlier 
 he be the bold hurdle rider, or the captor of the pig. 
 
 Think not, however, that all was given up to wikl unthinking 
 revelry. Such moments as these were the moments of relaxa- 
 tion from severe and unrelenting discipline. There was reveille 
 at daybreak and roll call. Then breakfast, after which came 
 guard mounting, and squad and company drills until noon. 
 Then brigade and division drills occupied the afternoon, antl 
 dress parade at sundown finished the dav. Intersperse this 
 with details for picket duty, policing the camp, and building 
 miles of corduroy roads, and you have the ordinar\- routine of 
 our winter camp. 
 
 All this was preparing us for the work of the coming cam- 
 paign, rumors and premonitions of which were in the air and 
 which all belie\ed would prove a bloody and terrific one. 
 
 We were seeing the silver lining, but were soon to see the 
 reverse of the war cloud, when rollicking pleasure must give 
 place for visions of desolation and blood, and our winter carni- 
 val be supplimented b}' the wild carnival of death. 
 
 x\t last the rumors of a contemplated advance took definite 
 form in the enforced disappearance from camp of all visitors, 
 including those gentlemen in silk hats and patent leathers who 
 visited us from time to time to find out why the Arm\- of the 
 Potomac did not move. There are three classes of soldiers in 
 every army : 
 
 First, the brave, willing soldier — reach for an\- dut\- or dan- 
 ger to which he may be assigned, often volunteering out of his 
 turn, never repining, and often leaving a sick cot rather than be 
 suspected of shirking his duty. 
 
 Second in rank standi the soldier who does his dut\' when 
 ordered, but grudgingi}-. Perhaps he is brave in action, but he 
 is always growling. He growls that it is not his turn to stand 
 
86 
 
 i;uard, tliat liis rations are not good or well cooked. He growls 
 about his officers, growls about nut being promoted, growls 
 because the willing soldier is promoted, growls if the sun shines, 
 growls if it rains, growls around the camj) kettles, on the march, 
 and everywhere. He can give reasons by the hour why he is 
 not promoted, generally because his superior officers are jealous 
 of his ability. He cannot understand why such merit as his 
 goes unrecognized and unrewarded, and he convinced himself 
 then, as he does now, that his valorous deeds entitled him to a 
 reward in the shape of a fat office. 
 
 Third in order came the habitual skulkers, the fellows who 
 were always hrst for rations, first for pay, and first to run when 
 danger came. 
 
 They were always excessivel}' brave in camp, and would 
 march up to the sound of the commissary's and surgeon's call 
 with perfect recklessness and abandon, but when the first shot 
 of battle sounded they disappeared as if the earth had swal- 
 lowed them, reappearing after the battle as if by magic to relate 
 their feats of prowess. 
 
 The devices they resorted to in order to obtain an excuse 
 from duty frequently indicated genius of a high order. I knew 
 of one whose sore leg baffled the skill of surgeons for man\ 
 months, and he was about to obtain a discharge when it was 
 discovered that he deliberately scratched the leg and bound 
 copper pennies on the wound to poison it, and repeated the 
 operation after every dressing. 
 
 Another had a mild form of lunacy which manifested itself by 
 his fishing with a short pole and line in puddles, creeks, and 
 even in the boiling camp kettles. He was constantly fishing, 
 even when detailed for duty, but never caught anything. 
 Finally he was discharged and I took him to Washington to 
 secure his transportation and start him safely homeward. As 
 we passed over the old bridge where the Tiber- then crossed 
 Pennsylvania Avenue at Second Street, I said : "John, here is 
 a good place to fish, where is your pole ? '" 
 
 The assumed cloudiness of intellect vanished from his face, 
 as he replied with a laugh : " Fishing be d — d. I've fished 
 
87 
 
 myself out of the service and I'll never go fishing again as long 
 as I live." 
 
 This last class were soon to vanish from our midst, and the 
 others were to enter upon a career of glory whose record was 
 written in blood to last forever on history's page. Marching 
 orders were received on the morning of May 3. We were to be 
 ready to march at 11 p. i\i. with five days' cooked rations in 
 haversacks and sixty rounds of ammunition on the person, bag- 
 gage and tents to be sent to the rear. It was many a weary 
 day before we saw either again. My duty for the day was to 
 detail and mount a brigade picket guard of 500 men ready for 
 marching, and with them to relieve the old guard on the out- 
 posts extending five miles from Kelly's Ford on the Rappahan- 
 nock to the Rapidan, so that these could prepare for the march. 
 Returning with them to camp in the evening how changed we 
 found the scene we had learned to look upon as home. Where 
 thousands of tents had covered the hills and plains in the 
 morning sun, now all was bare and desolate, except for the 
 rapidly shifting lines of blue, and the glistening and flashing of 
 the bright muskets as the army formed for its march. A brief 
 time for preparation and supper, and promptly at 11 our part 
 of the great coil began to unwind and we were on our march to 
 Ely's Ford on the Rapidan, beyond which lay the confederate 
 hosts ready to welcome us "hospitable hands to bloody 
 graves." We had tried their temper on many a well-fought 
 field and knew them to be a brave, skillful and deter- 
 mined foe. 
 
 The night was mild and the men in good spirits, and soon 
 the woods through which we marched resounded with the 
 melody of ten thousand voices, singing : 
 
 " John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave, 
 His soul is marching on." 
 
 The wild, weird music of that night seems still resounding in 
 my ears, and a feeling of sadness comes over me when I think 
 of the many voices which rang out on the balmy air of that 
 night, but which never sang again unless in the angel choir of 
 
 the Great Unknown. 
 
 7 
 
88 
 
 Arriving at the river shortly after midnight we found that our 
 picket guard which was to meet us there had not arrived. We 
 could not leave them to uncertainty, with a probal)le enemy in 
 the rear, so it fell to me to find and bring them in. Back to the 
 camp we had left was five miles, thence across country by the 
 usual route to Kelly's Ford was seven miles more; the road 
 back was blocked with troops, artillery and wagons, so the only 
 way open for speed was across an unknown countr}' with onl\ 
 the stars for a guide. 
 
 It was 4 in the morning before that lonely ride through the 
 pine woods and over bare fields was ended, and my weary horse 
 stopped at the camp-fire of the reserve guard. The order had 
 miscarried, and we had to relieve the picket as .we marched, 
 starting in the gray streak of dawn. 
 
 It was noon when we reached the river. The men crossed on 
 pontoon bridges, while the mounted officers took the ford to 
 water the horses. Mine was tired and found the temptation to 
 bathe too strong too resist, and laid down to roll in the water. 
 Of course I got off in haste, and in water up to my neck, to be 
 heartil}' quizzed by those who saw it, some asking if I alwaj's 
 took a bath on horseback. Slowly we toiled on, taking the 
 fields in order to pass the slowly moving column to our proper 
 place, and at 4 p. m. were rejoiced to find our corps in bivouac 
 ont he old battlefield of Chancellorsville, where we dropped to 
 the ground for needed rest. I had been in the saddle for nearly 
 thirty hours and had eaten only as we marched. 
 
 To those who have never witnessed the march of an army, the 
 route over which we passed would have presented a curious 
 scene. The soldier started with a tightly packed knapsack, a 
 blanket and overcoat closely rolled above, and a square of duck, 
 known as a half shelter tent under the flap. Hanging some- 
 where about these you would see an iron sauce-pan, a coffee- 
 pot, and other culinary utensils. All this we call unnecessary 
 baggage. Then there is the musket, weighing eleven pounds, 
 forty rounds of ammunition means about six pounds of lead, 
 (and we had sixty rounds). Then there is the haversack, swell- 
 
89 
 
 ing with five days' rations, tlie bayonet, a tin cup and canteen. 
 This is the necessary baggag.e of the soldier, and in all, it is some- 
 thing one would prefer to have checked rather than carry. As 
 the warm Virginia sun rose at the first halt, knapsacks were 
 unslung, and whatever could be best spared was thrown away. 
 Then, all along the hot and dusty road something else would 
 from time to time be thrown away, until at last the knapsack 
 goes too, and the soldier is in light marching order, ready 
 for his march to Richmond or the grave, and the road is car- 
 peted with abandoned clothing, blankets and knapsacks thus 
 thrown away. 
 
 The Wilderness is what its name indicates; a densely wooded 
 region of great extent lying between the Rapidan and Orange 
 Court House. But it is not only on account of its dreary woods 
 and dismal morasses that it is remarkable. The country is a 
 mineral one, gold and iron ores having been mined there for 
 more than a century. The heavy timber has largely been cut 
 away for smelting ore, and a dense undergrowth of scraggy 
 pines, dwarfed oaks, laurel and chincopin bushes have sprung 
 up over the clearings, while in the low points are sluggish 
 streams and dank marshes choked with alders, twined closely 
 witli the luxuriant tangled and prickl)' vines of the sunn}' south, 
 making man}^ places almost inaccessible to the footsteps of man. 
 Yet, wild as it was, it was indescribably beautiful with the myri- 
 ads of lovel}' hued flowers which blossomed at one's feet and 
 overhead, decorating both carpet and ceiling with nature's most 
 elegant floral designs. 
 
 Wild beasts and deadly serpents had their homes here, but 
 none more fierce and deadly in their venom than the men in 
 God's image who were rapidly moving into those dark defiles 
 from both sides of the Wilderness. 
 
 At daybreak the reveille sounds, and as far as the bounds of 
 the open plain one can see men rising from amidst the stacks of 
 arms. No dressing is required. A little water from the can- 
 teen poured on the hands and transferred to the face completes 
 the most fastidious toilet, and all are ready for the breakfast 
 
00 
 
 liastily prepared by each in his own way. Then "fall in" is 
 the order, and we are soon on our march southwestwardly by 
 way of the Furnace and Todd's Tavern, towards Sliady Grove 
 Church. The other corps crossed at Germania Ford and are 
 marching on separate roads far to our right, their lines of march 
 leading towards Orange Court House. We know by the order 
 of march that we are expected to meet the enemy, but none 
 know when or where. 
 
 Part of our corps has passed Todd's, and our division has 
 reached there, when a staff officer dashes up and delivers an 
 order which changes our line of march. At Todd's Tavern the 
 Brock road crosses the road on which we are marching. On 
 this road w^e turn to the north and with rapid strides move 
 towards its junction with the Orange Plank. Orders to 
 hasten come quick and fast, and soon we kncnv wh}'. for 
 the far away sound of battle is borne to our ears 
 through every opening. Onward we press as fast as weary 
 legs can carry us, tlie sounds of battle ever growing 
 louder and nearer. Our comrades of the 5th Corps have 
 met Lee's advance and are already engaged in a deadh' struggle 
 for the possession of the junction of the roads, the van of War- 
 ren's corps having met the van of Ewell's column there. If they 
 be driven back before we reach them our army is cut in two, 
 and unknown disasters await us. We press on till we are close 
 at hand. A cloud of dust appears moving towards our flank 
 down a narrow road to our left. It is far away yet and may be 
 caused by either friend or foe. Quickly a squad is told off, and 
 down the road we go at double quick, halting and forming line 
 at the first crest. A cavalry guidon with the stars and stripes 
 greet us and we open our hnes to let our friends pass through. 
 Quickly we close again, for pressing close!}" behind is another 
 squadron riding under the stars and bars. A volley, and they 
 disappear. We find ourselves upon a ridge running j^arallel to 
 the road on which we had marched. In front of the ridge look- 
 ing northwestwardly is a small stream and a railroad embank- 
 ment unfinished. Beyond it and to our right is dense woods. 
 
91 
 
 we being on a small cleared farm (Stevens') in the midst of 
 woods, the farm road running along the ridge on which we are, 
 to the Brock road. A terrible din and rattle of musketry comes 
 from the woods on our right and blue sulphurous smoke curls 
 up from where the sound is loudest. It is about 4 i>. m. Soon 
 we see our own 2d Corps moving out of the woods, extending 
 its line along the ridge we occupy, and, as the line extends, 
 rails and fallen trees are hastily thrown up for breastworks. 
 We join our brigade and stand in line with loaded arms, await- 
 ing, we know not whether an attack upon ourselves, or orders 
 to attack the enemy. All we know is that in the woods in our 
 front is a brave and relentless enemy, while our comrades a few 
 rods to our right are already in the midst of carnage. 
 
 Soon suspense is ended. We are ordered to the right until 
 we reach the plank road, now so famous in history. We form 
 line rapidly and push forward in battle array into the darkness 
 and gloom of the thicket, our right flank resting on the plank 
 road, our left a little retired. Evening shades fell fast in the 
 gloomy recesses of those dark woods, and the darkness and 
 undergrowth prevented any true alignment. 
 
 And now we are in the midst of the din and storm of lead 
 and fire. Only by the flash of the volleys of the forming lines 
 can we know where is posted the enemy with which we are en- 
 gaged. The woods light up with the flashes of musketr\-, as if 
 with lightning, while the incessant roar of the volleys sound like 
 the crashing of thunderbolts. 
 
 Brave men are falling like autumn leaves, and death holds 
 high carnival in our ranks. 
 
 Then the flashes extending along and be}'ond our left warn 
 us that we must extend our line in that direction or be struck in 
 flank, so we push out our left to parry the extended line of our 
 enemy. This leaves a gap in our right which must be filled, 
 and I am sent back for a regiment to occupy it. The 57th New 
 York forms to go into the gap, when occurred an incident 
 worthy of notice. 
 
 During our winter encampment, Col. Chapman of this regi- 
 ment became impressed with a presentiment that he would be 
 
92 
 
 killed in tlie first battle of the campaign. No reasoning nor 
 joking could remove it. He wa.s told that he ought to resign 
 but refused, saying he was willing to die for his country. He 
 was a lion-hearted warrior in battle, and a gentleman without 
 reproach in camp. This day he was detailed away from his 
 regiment as field officer of the da}-, and was thus temporarih' on 
 Hancock's staff. 
 
 As we moved his regiment down into that place of slaught(;r 
 and gloom, a cry broke from some of the men and tlie line was 
 broken, a group gathering about some object in the way. The 
 regiment shivered with grief, for there, still in death was the 
 upturned ghastly face of their loved commander, with the lite 
 blood still oozing from the ghastly wound. His presentiment 
 was fulfilled. He had died for his countr\', and his brave soul 
 was now far from the bloody scenes of furious war. 
 
 There was no time for mourning. A small scpiad reverently 
 bore him to a place of rest, while his regiment plunged at once 
 into the thickest of the fight, and many of its members that 
 night camped with their commander in the "Bivouac of the 
 Dead." 
 
 Night soon wrapped those gloomy woods in total darkness, 
 except where lighted by the flames which belched from the muz- 
 zles of the thousands of muskets; the great sheets of fire, like 
 flashes of summer lightning, lighting up the pall of sulphurous 
 smoke which added to the dark gloom of the surroundings, and 
 still the fight raged on. 
 
 We could see no enem\', but we were so close that the flashes 
 from their muskets and ours seemed to mingle, and we fired 
 only at their line of fire, and they at ours. Now the rattle and 
 roar would die away, and then like a new cloudburst, it would 
 commence again. Death flitted from bush to bush, and every 
 thicket sheltered a corpse, while the agonizing groans and cries 
 of the wounded, were constantly ringing in our ears. 
 
 By lo o'clock all was still, except for an occasional irregular 
 volley starting from a single shot, but extending along the line. 
 
 Orders were whispered to us to move to the rear without 
 noise, which we accomplished safely, and after being supplied 
 
93 
 
 with ammunition, were soon asleep upon our arms in a field 
 near the crossroads, dreaming of home and the fireside, forget- 
 ting the frightful scene through which we had just passed. Not 
 long were we left to our dreams, for at half past three of May 6 
 we were waked and moved rapidly to the position we first occu- 
 pied yesterday on the open ridge, the line extending a little 
 further to the left. 
 
 News had been obtained from prisoners that Longstreet was 
 making a rapid march to turn and strike our left on the 
 Brock road. 
 
 At 5 A. M. the battle re-opens on the right and once the surg- 
 ing columns drifted up to our right front. We quickly charge 
 and drive it back, and then resume our place, to strengthen our 
 left with earthworks. If there is ever a time when men labor 
 willingly it is when they expect an attack, and are allowed to 
 throw up a defence. Beavers could not work more industriously, 
 for life is the stake. 
 
 Now there is an attack upon our skirmish line at the railroad 
 embankment, but it is quickly repelled. 
 
 In some way the woods are fired in our front, and the flames 
 swept with relentless fury upon our lines, burning the dead, 
 and perhaps the wounded in our front. We have now a double 
 enemy to fight, for the confederates, quick to take advantage of 
 our confusion, make a sudden dash upon our lines. Brief, but 
 blood}^ is the conflict, and we succeed in repulsing this last at- 
 tack of the day, but it is far towards "the wee sma' hours" 
 before we are permitted to sleep in the trenches upon our arms. 
 
 At daybreak of the 7th we are again under arms, and during 
 the day several skirmishes sufficiently broke the monotony of 
 the expectant hours, but Longstreet' s expected attack miscar- 
 ried by reason of his wound, and no general engagement took 
 place, and at night, rumors of a retreat of the enemy were con- 
 firmed by orders to be ready to march, following the 5th Corps. 
 
 Thus ended the strangest and most indescribable battle in 
 history. A battle which no man saw, and in which artillery was 
 useless, and hardly used at all. A battle fought in dense woods. 
 
94 
 
 and tangled brake, where maneuvering was impossible, where 
 the lines of battle were invisible to their commanders, and 
 whose position could only be determined by the rattle and roll 
 and flash of musketr}; and where the enemy was also invisible. 
 
 Yet in that gloonn- region of death, 200,000 men had met and 
 grappled in one of the deadliest struggles of the war. From 
 out of its dark recesses had come the rattle and roar of musketry, 
 ana baleful brimstone fires that would remind one of the infernal 
 regions; and 12,000 to 15,000 lives lost there proved it indeed 
 the very "Valley of the Shadow of Death." 
 
 We questioned with each other that night whether our march 
 would be back across the Rapidan, or onward. The morning 
 answered the question. We had a new line of tactics. Its 
 order was — Advance ! 
 
 We had a new commander, and that commander, was Grant ! 
 
 Amidst our grief over fallen comrades, we rejoiced — we knew 
 not what we had to be glad over, but we were going out of the 
 Wilderness. 
 
 Warren's 5th Corps was to march at 8 p. m. by the Brock 
 road to Spottsyvania. Our order was— " Maj.-Gen. Hancock 
 commanding 2d Corps will move to Todd's Tavern by the Brock 
 road, following the 5th Corps closely." 
 
 It fell to my lot to stay awake that night to watch the march 
 of the 5th Corps, and wake our own to " follow closelj'. " 
 
 While so watching, frequent trips were made to the Brock 
 road, or to the intersection of it with the farm road we were on, 
 and which forked from the Brock at an acute angle. Returning 
 to the headquarter flag where a small fire was burning, from 
 one of these trips, I was surprised to hear, and then see indis- 
 tinctly a cavalcade of horsemen advancing along the road close 
 to, and across which, our troops were lying. 
 
 Running quickly to the head of the column, I called a halt, 
 and at the same time recognized Gen. Meade at the head of his 
 staff and escort. He rather brusquely asked: " Who halts me. 
 Do you know who I am?" I replied, "Yes, you are Gen. 
 Meade," gave my name and rank, and added: "I halted you 
 
95 
 
 because a few steps more will bring your horses among our 
 sleeping men, and if you go further j'ou will be outside of our 
 lines, and riding towards the enemy." He asked: " How can 
 that be, is not this the Brock road ? " When informed that he 
 had left that road a short distance back, he conferred for a 
 moment with Gen. Seth. Williams who rode at his side, and 
 asked if I could put them on the right road. In wheeling, the 
 staff and escort were obliged to exercise great care not to tram- 
 ple upon the near ranks of sleeping men, but I soon placed 
 them upon the Brock road and was warmly thanked for the 
 service. I gave little thought to the event, and it was not till 
 Grant's Memoirs were published that I learned that the great 
 commander was also a part of the halted column. He describes 
 the event, but attributed his escape to the "instinct of the 
 engineer" possessed by Col. Comstock of his staff, who re- 
 ported to him the mistake. It was not the "instinct of the 
 engineer," but the plain common fact that I was detailed to 
 stay awake and watch the passing of the 5th Corps which saved 
 Grant and Meade with their staffs and escorts, from riding into 
 the enem3''s line.* 
 
 It was daylight of May 8 when the 5th Corps had passed and 
 we got the road. By a rapid march we reached Todd's Tavern 
 at 9 and were aligned across the Catharpen road to prevent an 
 expected attempt by Lee to cut our marching column in two. 
 
 Later our Brigade was pushed out through hot pine woods to 
 the valley of Corbyn's Creek. Here on the brow of the upland 
 we halted for a time — long enough to remind us that it was a 
 beautiful Sabbath day, but not a day of rest. On a road passing 
 along the high ground across the valley, in full view, were Lee's 
 marching legions, rapidly moving southward. Our presence is 
 quickly discovered by the alert enemy who tear down a fence 
 and run out two guns on the brow of the hill in front of us. 
 
 The first shell screaming through the air sends us to shelter 
 behind a little ridge. Then we receive an order to look out for 
 our right, as the cavalry was being withdrawn. A picket line 
 
 Grant's Memoirs 2-210. MaiT- o<^ Am. Hist. r)-24S. 
 
96 
 
 is posted to guard approaclies in that direction. Hardly has it 
 been posted in a road wliich runs down into the valley, separated 
 from us by a stream bordered with a dense growth of bushes 
 and tangled vines, before it is thought necessary to extend the 
 line further to our right, to cover another byway there, and that 
 duty falls to me. The work was done, and I was riding down 
 the road to an opening in the bushes where the stream could be 
 crossed, when I found a confederate line of battle moving to- 
 wards me, and towards our position. There was no escape 
 except through the gap they were rapidly approaching, and no 
 time was to be lost, for if they reached the opening before me, 
 my march would end in Richmond as a prisoner of war. They 
 evidently believed I was coming to surrender, for they invited 
 me to join them in terms, the politest of which was, " Come on, 
 you d^ — d Yank, we'll take good care of you." But the opening 
 is reached. I show them my horse's tail, and his speed, as we 
 gallop up the hill. Scattering volleys are fired, but the}' are 
 too excited to aim well, and shoot wildly. At the top of the 
 hill is a rail fence. The horse seems to know the danger and 
 leaps it finely, but the saddle girth has become loose for want 
 of food, the saddle slips and turns, and I take a fall. To 
 mount again is but the work of a moment, for dread of a rebel 
 prison, gives one wings almost. 
 
 The volleys meant for me have roused the brigade, which 
 greets me with hearty cheers as I ride into the line with my 
 saddle under my horse instead of under me. 
 
 The attacking column appears, but halts to make a proper 
 disposition of their lines for the attack, and we are ordered to a 
 better position a little to the rear. 
 
 While forming our lines and waiting, a strange accident oc- 
 curs. Rations had been brought up for the first time since we 
 crossed the Rapidan, and one of the wagons was unloaded to 
 return for more, when some rattling musketry was heard. 
 
 The frightened driver cut his traces and fled, leaving the 
 wagon surrounded by a pile of unloaded " hard tack." 
 
 Some beef cattle, hamstrung to prevent them from running 
 away before they can be slaughtered, become mad with fright 
 
97 
 
 and charge on the forming troops, dashing the men to the right 
 and left as they make a hobbhng charge on three legs down the 
 line. Just then, another rebel brigade is discovered moving on 
 our right flank, and we must prepare for an attack on our right 
 and the one on our front at the same time. Cool heads and 
 hard work are needed at such a time. Miles is equal to the 
 emergency. Reinforcements are sent for and we prepare to 
 defend ourselves as best we can until they arrive. Now the 
 brigade in front moves steadily up the slope, their muskets at 
 ready. Gallant Col. McKeen of the 8ist Pennsylvania, has 
 charge of that part of the line with his own regiment and the 
 26th Michigan. He sits on his horse like the brave soldier he 
 is, calmly speaking words of encouragement to his men, many 
 of whom are new recruits, never under fire. 
 
 The Ki-yi-yi of the confederates is not answered until their 
 line reaches the cracker boxes. Then a volley answers their 
 triumphant yells, sending many to their long home, but they 
 close the ranks and march steadily on. McKeen meets them 
 with another volley, which drives them down the hill. 
 
 Now commences hot work on the right. Here are the 6ist 
 New York and the 140th and 183d Pennsylvania, under Miles in 
 person. The confederates charge and nearly drive in our cen- 
 ter, the 183d Pennsylvania, which breaks and drifts to the rear. 
 Here is work for the staff. We drive and coax the frightened 
 men, and one staff officer seizes the colors from the frightened 
 guard and rides with it in the face of the enemy to its former 
 place. This cures the panic and re-inspires the men. The 
 regiment rallies on its colors, and the line is saved. The enemy 
 hesitates under our galling fire, and then falls back into the 
 woods whence they came. 
 
 We were now ordered to withdraw to the main line, in hope 
 that the enemy would follow and attack us in the intrenchment. 
 
 This movement we executed in as good order as if coming from 
 parade. Our little brigade was proud, for we had whipped two 
 brigades of Malone's Division, before any reinforcements had 
 reached us, and we were greeted, as we filed into the trenches 
 
98 
 
 with rousing cheers. We had lost nearly' 200 men, and were 
 obliged to leave our dead upon the field. 
 
 A strange incident occurred as we marched to the rear. The 
 confederate shells were flying over our heads, and one struck in 
 a ploughed field in front of us as Lieut. Judson, a Vermonter, 
 and staff officer of the 2d Brigade, 3d Division, was riding to 
 meet us. The shell struck short of him and he fell dead with- 
 out apparent cause. The ball had ricocheted, and struck him 
 so slightly as to leave no mark, but sufficiently hard to cause 
 instant death. 
 
 The night was far advanced before we gave up the expectation 
 of another attack, and had fully distributed the rations and fed 
 our hungry heroes, but now we got a few hours of much-needed 
 sleep until the daylight reveille of the gth of May. 
 
 At 8 A. At. we marched towards Spottsylvania Court House, 
 to which point the other corps had preceded us. The 6th Corps 
 was then actively engaged in its fight which lost it its brave and 
 good commander, the gallant, noble-hearted Sedgwick. We 
 formed line on the right of the 6th Corps with an open field 
 sloping away from our front. Here we threw up a light breast- 
 work of rails — and waited. 
 
 At nearly 5 v. m. our division was hastily moved by the flank 
 across the Po. On reaching the high ground on the other 
 side, we formed in line, and with a heav}- skirmish line deplo}ed 
 in front, swept rapidly across the fields until we struck the road 
 leading into Spottsylvania from the west, then wheeled to the 
 left and moved down the road to a covered bridge and attempted 
 its passage. 
 
 It was to heavily defended, however, and as it was growing 
 too dark to do more, we intrenched as best we could on the 
 high ground above the river, while our skirmish line, with bay- 
 onets and cups dug rifle pits and held the river bank. 
 
 A curious topographical fact may be noticed here. 
 
 Four considerable streams rise in and flow through this 
 region, the Mat, the Ta, the Po, and the Ny. The names like 
 the streams unite, and the river formed by their junction, is the 
 Mattapony. 
 
99 
 
 Our movements during the next ten days have made the Po, 
 and the Ny, historic streams. 
 
 If the movement of our division should succeed in forcing a 
 passage of the river, we would be again on the same side of the 
 Po with the rest of the army, but separated from it by a great 
 horseshoe bend, and would have to fight our way to a junction, 
 but tliis would take the confederates in flank. 
 
 Early in the morning of the loth we were roused by confed- 
 erate shells. Their shrieks are less musical than the notes of 
 fife and drum, but more certain to wake one, quickly and thor- 
 oughly. Their battery was soon silenced, however, but the hot 
 and incessant musketry fire from the tete de pont warned us that 
 crossing there was impracticable, and endangered our every 
 movement. 
 
 Another way must be found to cross, and I am sent with the 
 6ist Nev/ York under Col. Broady to feel for a point where we 
 might cross and flank the bridge. At Taylor's farm, some dis- 
 tance up the river, twenty men cross on a fallen tree, but are 
 immediately fired on, and have to fight their way. Five are 
 wounded, and we withdraw them and abandon the hope of 
 crossing there. Then we learn from the unwilling lips of Tay- 
 lor that there is a dam on Glady Run a mile further up. We 
 cross there, but a startling discovery awaits us. A great cloud 
 of dust rising over a belt of woods informs us that a large column 
 is marching towards our rear, and is likely to do for us what we 
 are trying to do for them — flank and destroy us in the bend of 
 the river. After verifying this fact by crawling out through the 
 woods until we can see the marching columns, we hastily 
 withdraw to Taylor's and align the regiment, only a handful, 
 behind a fence, while I report the situation at headquarters. 
 Two guns of Arnold's battery are sent out to Taylor's and 
 posted in an open field commanding the road. 
 
 But no troops can be spared from the new line being rapidly 
 taken and strengthened to ward off the impending blow. Soon 
 the head of the grey column appears emerging from the woods. 
 Arnold's guns are splendidly served, but the enemy soon dis- 
 
100 
 
 cover by our light musketry fire, that the guns have no sufficient 
 support, and forming a charging column, dash fiercely on to 
 take them. The guns are hurriedly limbered to the rear, flying 
 before the exulting, cheering mass behind. The driver of one 
 sways too far to one side, the wheel locks with the gatepost of 
 Taylor's roadway. No time is to be lost, for the surging lines 
 of gray are close at hand. The traces are cut by the gunners, 
 and the gun spiked and left to the enemy. That was the first 
 gun belonging to Hancock's Corps ever captured by the enemy, 
 and gallant Capt. Arnold wept at the loss of his gun, as you 
 might for the loss of a dear friend. 
 
 Now for a race to our new formed line in the road leading to 
 the bridge. We made it in safety and found the 3d Division 
 being rapidly sent across to our assistance, for we were in great 
 danger. The 26th Michigan and 8ist Pennsylvania were hotly 
 engaged, holding the covered bridge to protect our flank. It 
 was afternoon when the ball opened by a heavy artillery fire 
 from across the Potomac and an infantry attack on our right 
 and on the forming 3d Division. We were largely outnumbered, 
 but able to hold the enemy in check for a while. But it was 
 necessary to withdraw across the river, a dangerous feat to 
 attempt in the face of a superior army. Three regiments of 
 our brigade are withdrawn to the high bank above our pontoon 
 bridge, while regiment after regiment is cautiously withdrawn 
 from the front, and under cover of the bank defiles across the 
 river. Now the two regiments at the covered bridge are 
 brought up to cross. But fortune seems to be against us, and 
 it looks as if our little force must be overwhelmed, for a long 
 line of battle emerges from the road we first formed on. and 
 with steady strides advances across the open field in our front. 
 It is a splendid line, with colors flying and an alignment as if 
 on parade. If they are bold and do not hesitate we are lost. It 
 was with mingled feelings of admiration and dread that our 
 little band gazed on that long line of flashing bayonets as it 
 steadily approached. Miles directs that not a gun be fired 
 until the order is given. Soon the line changes step to a double 
 
101 
 
 quick bringing their bayonets to a charge. All is still for a 
 moment, then the order to fire rings out on the air, and our 
 muskets answer with a volley which seem fired from one great 
 gun. The line wavers, is broken, and lies down to escape the 
 rapid fire at will, which now assails it. The enemy's hesitation 
 has insured our safety, for while they hesitate we are rapidly- 
 withdrawing across the river. McKeen and myself cross last, 
 the bridge being cut away from the bank we had just left, and 
 swinging across to the other shore with the current as we 
 crossed. We were saved and our enemy was disappointed. 
 While we had been thus engaged we could see from our last 
 position a charging column of the 6th Corps gallantly carry the 
 point of its attack, and the sight infused courage into the hearts 
 of the weary and worried brigade, and they gave expression to 
 their jo}' and admiration for their comrades valor in repeated 
 and ringing cheers. 
 
 Our division was now reformed on nearly the position we first 
 occupied before crossing the Po, and formed the extreme right 
 of the army. So far was our right refused that it faced nearly to 
 the west, the general line of our army being faced towards the 
 east. At dark another assaulting column moved upon us, but 
 did us little harm and soon retired. Such was the battle of 
 the Po. Our attempt to flank the enemy had failed, as had also 
 his attempt to flank and destroy us. All that night was spent 
 in working on the intrenchments, one half sleeping while the 
 other worked. 
 
 The first light of the nth found us under arms awaiting an 
 attack. All our fighting thus far had been without breastworks, 
 protected only at times by natural ridges and slight piles of 
 rails, so the idea of being attacked in earthwork intrenchments 
 was rather pleasant, b}' way of contrast, and we really felt dis- 
 contented as the morning wore away without the expected 
 assault. This indicated an abandonment b}' the eneni}' of 
 attempts on this part of the line, and our brigade was divided 
 into two reconnoitering parties. Three regiments were pushed 
 across the Po by wading, and the other two were sent back on 
 
102 
 
 the road to Todd's Tavern. Accompanying the first, we found 
 a small force occupying our last position of the preceding day, 
 but drove them on the run down to and across the covered 
 bridge, where they re-formed and prevented our passage. 
 Their firing told the story that no other force was there, and 
 that that part of the enemy's lines was abandoned, and we 
 returned. 
 
 Then I was sent to find our regiments which had gone to 
 Todd's with instructions to push them out and feel the way 
 as far as Corbyn's bridge; to return if we found no enemy in 
 force. We moved out from Todd's to our Sunday's battlefield, 
 and learned that no enemy had been there since Sunday, so we 
 buried our dead, who had been slightly covered with earth 
 where they fell, and marked their graves with pieces of the 
 cracker boxes we had abandoned while forming for the fight, on 
 which were penciled the names and regiments of our fallen 
 heroes, whom we were leaving to their peaceful slumbers while 
 we returned to our post in the lines drawn about Spottsylvania. 
 
 It was on this day that Grant sent to Washington that his- 
 toric dispatch, ending : "I propose to fight it out on this line 
 if it takes all summer." 
 
 It was the first news the country had heard from the Army of 
 the Potomac since it crossed the Rapidan, and many yet living 
 may remember how the heart of the nation was thrilled and 
 encouraged by the glad tidings and splendid promise. 
 
 It was dark when we arrived at our post, looking forward to a 
 good night's rest, and all who could, supped quickly and went 
 to sleep. Miles had been called to a council of war, and we of 
 his staff had arranged a shelter from the rain which had com- 
 menced falling, by laying the ends of some rails upon the breast- 
 works and stretching some blankets across them, and were pre- 
 paring for sleep, when at g o'clock he returned, and dispelled 
 our hopes of rest and pleasant dreams by directing us to see 
 that the brigade was in readiness to move at ii o'clock 
 promptly. 
 
 Our prospects for the night seemed dismal enough. Our 
 orders were to march in silence, keeping well closed up to pre- 
 
103 
 
 vent separation, and the cups were ordered to be carried where 
 tliey could not rattle against the bayonets. 
 
 This was all we knew of the dangers of our night march, but 
 it was enough to excite the liveliest apprehensions. All that 
 dreary night we wearily plodded on, sometimes in narrow wood 
 roads, sometimes picking our way through fallen timber, or 
 bushy woods, drenched to the skin, until at last we passed 
 through a gap made in the intrenchments of the 6th Corps, 
 where cautions were again given and complete silence enjoined. 
 This was strictly obeyed, for we knew we were now passing the 
 near front of a watchful and adroit enemy 
 
 fust before dawn of May 12 we were halted in an open field in 
 the valley in front of Brown's house, and without any time for 
 rest were rapidly formed into an assaulting column. 
 
 The 3d Division (Birney's) was on our right in two lines. 
 The 4th Division (Mott's) supported his right, while the 2d 
 (Gibbons' ) was held in reserve. We thus formed a huge sledge 
 hammer, of which our division was the head, Birney's the 
 handle. When the blow should be struck it would either shat- 
 ter us, or give us a dearly bought success The very formation 
 was an assurance of bloody, terrible work. 
 
 Brown's house was Grant's and Meade's headquarters, and 
 there, they were surrounded by all the corps commanders, who 
 ^¥ith their respective staffs and escorts formed a numerous and 
 brilliant retinue. The artillery was also being rapidly massed 
 and posted on the elevation below which we were forming. 
 From Brown's a line had been taken the day before, to Mc- 
 Cool's house, known to be within the salient, and our charge 
 was du-ected by the compass upon that line. 
 
 In front of us was a long, open slope up a hill nearly clear, 
 but in places covered with a thicket of young pines. On the 
 summit, 1,200 yards from our front was the supposed-to-be con- 
 federate intrenchments we were to assault, a strong line of 
 earthworks backed by logs, and with a log parapet, protected 
 in front by a strong abattis, or slashing of felled trees; but all 
 invisible as yet in the gray darkness of approaching dawn. All 
 of us were dismounted, and our horses left behind. 
 
104 
 
 At half past 4 we started up tlie slope with silent but rapid 
 tread. We reach the crest to find a mistake has been made and 
 there is another valley and another slope to climb, and our 
 premature cheers have awakened the toe. We sweep in their 
 picket line, capturing nearly every man. We are fired on by 
 the reserve picket, but drive it in. Enthusiasm can no longer 
 be controlled. The arms had been carried at a " right shoulder 
 shift." Now, they are brought to a "charge," and the charg- 
 ing column, with cheers which miglit almost wake the dead, and 
 were omens of victory, breaks into a double quick. 
 
 We see the frowning earthworks in our front lined with the 
 now thoroughly aroused enemy whose every eye was taking 
 deadly aim over the long line of glittermg muskets resting 
 beneath the log which crowned the rampart. We tear away or 
 crawl through the abattis. The first line seems to melt before 
 the terrific volley which salutes us. 
 
 Gallant Col. Seviers of the 26th is among the first to fall shot 
 through the breast, but still living. A dear friend crosses over 
 to my side, and begins to speak, but his sentence is finished in 
 eternity, for he falls with the words half uttered, shot through 
 the head. They fall too fast to notice who is gone, but the 
 places of the stricken ones are filled at once, and the mad mass 
 surges on, over the intrenchments, in a resistless, terrible wave 
 which sweeps all before it. Here a savage hand-to-hand cctn- 
 flict ensues, between men maddened with the battle fury, so 
 that they fight with muskets clubbed, with bayonets, and with 
 swords. Our onset is too strong for resistance, and we sweep 
 in Gen. Ed. Johnson with four thousand men and thirty stands 
 of colors. As we press on, a park of artiller}' is encountered. 
 The brave artillerists sullenly stand by their guns, fighting to 
 save them, with rammers used as clubs, and ever}' weapon in 
 their reach; and many of the gallant fellows are slain at their 
 guns, disdaining to surrender. Onward sweeps the resistless 
 mass, with cheers and yells of exultation, sending twenty-five 
 cannon to the rear, as further trophies of its valor. We reach 
 an open space where the houses of Spottsylvania can be seen. 
 
105 
 
 and louder grow the exulting cheers. But, there is a lion in our 
 path; Lee is massing all his army in a second line of works, and 
 as we strike that, the hammer rebounds. A deadly, continuous 
 blaze of musketry and a raking fire of artillery check our further 
 advance. Still, if fresh troops, full of ardor, could now take the 
 place of our broken and disorganized mass, it may yet accom- 
 plish the work. None come, however, and we labor to reorganize 
 our broken and shattered column in line to hold the position we 
 have reached. We have no regimental or company organiza- 
 tions left, but a disorganized and shattered line devoid of 
 organization. 
 
 The confederates pour out over their intrenchments, and 
 drive us back. Again we advance, and again are compelled to 
 retire, but do it fighting the way stubbornly inch by inch. At 
 last we have fallen back in successively advancing and receding 
 waves, until we form again on the. outside of the breastworks 
 we had so fairly and yet so dearly won. 
 
 Behind them, or rather, in front, we can breathe again, hold- 
 ing this line until fresh troops can be sent up. Column after 
 column attempts to charge beyond the line, but none succeed in 
 passing beyond us. There is a point in battle beyond which 
 flesh and blood cannot pass, and we had found that point. The 
 "horseshoe" Avas a-boiling, bubbling and hissing caldron of 
 death. Lee's Army was hurled against us as we lay hugging 
 the slope of the earthwork, loading and firing at will, in five 
 successive waves, in his effort to retake this, the key to his posi- 
 tion, but our fire was too hot, and the waves of gray were 
 successively beaten back, with terrible loss. Once a few 
 hundred with a stand of colors, in their furious charge, reached 
 the inside of the works. To advance was impossible, to retreat 
 was death, for in the great struggle that raged there, there were 
 few merely wounded. The bullets sang like swarming bees, and 
 their sting was death. As a charge would be made we would 
 rise to our feet to meet the shock. Clubbed muskets, and 
 bayonets were the modes of fighting for those who had used up 
 their cartridges, and frenzy seemed to possess the yelling, 
 
106 
 
 demoniac hordes on either side, as soft-voiced, tender-hearted 
 men in camp, souf^jht, hke wild beasts, to destroy their fellow 
 men. 
 
 The dead were piled in swaths and winrows. both outside and 
 inside the line of works. Outside,, the harvest was of blue — 
 inside, of mingled blue and gray — peaceful enough as the}- lay 
 there, unmindful of the pitiless storm which rages round them. 
 
 The living outside of the breastworks, and the}' inside, are 
 not so quiet, for they try to prod each other with bayonets, and 
 if a hand is raised, a hundred bullets assail it. Once the rebel 
 colors floated out with the wind, until it could be grasped by 
 one of our boys. The brave color bearer rose to his feet cling- 
 ing to the staff. Our brave boy also rises clinging to the fiag, 
 and with disengaged hands they seek to grasp each others 
 throats, in a deadly struggle for the flag. Thus they stand over 
 the very rampart, both determined to win the flag. By common 
 consent the firing ceases at that point, and both sides eagerly 
 watch and encourage the fray. Finally the flag is torn from its 
 staff, and its proud captor, with a shattered arm, is hailed with 
 shouts of applause. I wish I knew his name, that I might 
 hand it down to the future, to be honored in histor}'. 
 
 All that forenoon the battle raged thus fiercely over that 
 small space, where the musketry fire was so hot and fierce, that 
 the ground was bared of bushes, as with a scythe, and a white 
 oak tree, twenty-two inches in diameter, was cut down wholly 
 by bullets. Its stump was exhibited at the Centennial, and is 
 now in the Ordnance Museum at Washington. 
 
 The ground drank its fill of blood, and grew slipper}- to the 
 foot. Fresh troops from the other corps were continually being 
 pushed up to the salient, in vain endeavors to make a new- 
 assault upon the enemy's line within. But the heaps of dead — 
 the pools of blood, and the terrific volle}'s of musketry, were too 
 much for man's endurance. To advance was impossible — to 
 hold our position — was grand. 
 
 I have heard that blood-drenched, bullet-swept angle, called 
 " Hell's Half Acre." It is now ''God's Acre," forever conse- 
 
107 
 
 crated as hoi}' ground, where lie in the calm sleep which fol- 
 lows the delirium of war, the thousands of known and unknown 
 heroes who fell there, the Northman and the Southron alike 
 unmindful of the storm of passion which divided them in life, 
 but united them in death. There they lie. 
 
 " Under the sod and the dew, 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Under the roses the Blue, 
 Under the lilies the Gray." 
 
 About noon the shattered remnants of our division were 
 moved into the pine woods at our left to reorganize, for the line 
 holding the horseshoe was composed of men from nearly ever}'^ 
 regiment in the army, demoralized and without organization. 
 It was a sad endeavor, for our division line, when reformed, 
 was no larger than a small regimental line. None knew the 
 fate of the absent, whether dead or wounded, or only separated 
 from us by chance ; only we knew that many a loved comrade 
 was there among the heaps of dead, and many more among the 
 wounded. We were weary, hungry and wet, for heavy thunder 
 showers of the morning had settled down into a stead}', drench- 
 ing rain, but there was no time to murmur, for we were needed 
 in the trenches, and soon we are back in that angle of death, 
 but with a new supply of ammunition. Added to the terrific 
 rolls of musketry firing, and the thunder of Heaven's artillery, 
 was the deep voiced thunder of those dogs of war, the reserve 
 artillery. The shells shriekeei and screamed over our heads, 
 and each shell seemed to shriek, "its you, its you," as it flew 
 on its errand of death. We were reminded of Schiller's battle 
 poem : 
 
 " See the smoke, how the lightning is cleaving asunder ! 
 Hark ! the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their thunder ! 
 The war is waging, slaughter raging. 
 And heavy through the reeking pall, 
 
 The iron death dice fall. 
 
 To the right, to the left, and around and around, 
 Death whirls in its dance on the bloody ground. 
 God's sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight — 
 
108 
 
 Over the host falls a brooding night. 
 
 The dead men are bathed in the weltering blood, 
 
 And the living are blent in the slippery flood, 
 
 And the feet as they reeling and sliding go, 
 
 Stumble still on the corpse that sleeps below. 
 
 Closed is the brunt of the glorious tight. 
 
 And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the sight. 
 
 Farewell, fallen brothers, though this life be o'er, 
 
 There's another, in which we shall meet you once more." 
 
 Oil ! liow often we wished tliat niglit would come as we spent 
 that terrible day in making and repulsing attacks, and how long 
 the day not only seemed, but actually was. At last night came, 
 but still the battle raged, though less fiercely. The assaults 
 along the line are over, and some can hold the line while others 
 rest. Rations are brought up and we hasten to refresh the 
 inner man, for now we have time to remember that we have 
 fasted since last night's supper. Fires are lighted to boil the 
 cups of coffee, but as soon as our forms are outlined by the 
 flames, showers of bullets come to warn us that our enemy is 
 still vengefully seeking our lives. We could lie down and let 
 the coffee boil, but orders came to put out the fires so as not to 
 draw the enemy's fire. Our mess consisted of five officers, half 
 savage from hunger, and more than half savage from having 
 been targets all that livelong day. and we hesitated about obey- 
 ing the order until our coffee should boil, when, as if to punish 
 us for disobedience, ping ! went a bullet through the cup, spill- 
 ing the coffee and putting out the fire. To say the five were 
 mad, hardly does justice to the facts : words such as are said to 
 have been used in Flanders fell from the lips of the disheart- 
 ened hungry mess. I trust the recording angel shut his ears 
 and failed to record them. It seemed a disappointment almost 
 too great to endure. We rallied soon, however, when one of 
 our orderlies, thoughtful for our comfort, came up the hill bear- 
 ing two steaming cups of coffee for our use. This was about ii 
 p. M., and in our hungry and weary condition, the coffee seemed 
 a nectar fit for the gods ; and the hard tack, better and sweeter 
 — after we shook the worms and bugs out of it — than any dish 
 with a French name I have since eaten. 
 
109 
 
 A strange scene it would have seemed to a novice as those 
 five messmates reclined upon the ground that night discussing 
 coffee and "hard tack" and the events of the day, the group 
 onlv partiall}' lit up by the few remaining embers of our little 
 fire, blown to life again. Blood-stained and begrimed with 
 powder and dirt were they all. Some had lost their hats and 
 wore handkerchiefs aesthetically turbaned round their heads. 
 One had his arm in a sling.' Another his knee tightly bandaged 
 with a handkerchief reddened with his blood, a bullet having 
 flattened on his knee." Another could show where a bullet had 
 struck his belt plate and left a black and blue spot under it, and ' 
 nearly all had bullet holes in hats or clothing. Some grim jokes 
 were passed, but no stories were told nor songs sung that night, 
 for we were thinking of lost comrades and of the morrow. 
 
 We had lost one of our messmates in the Wilderness, and 
 our little group was soon to be more rudely broken. Two weeks 
 later one was shot through the body at Totopotomoy. '•' Five 
 days later brave McKeen dies gloriousl}^ on the bloody field of 
 Cold Harbor; and soon, gallant, boyish Hallenbeck succumbs 
 exhausted, and in a few days dies in the delirium of fever 
 brought on by overwork, exposure and want of sleep. Thus in 
 thirty days but two were left of the six messmates who crossed 
 the Rapidan so gaily on that fateful night march. 
 
 If we slept at all that night it was to be often waked by the 
 volleys of musketry rolling too close to us, and we would sul- 
 lenly rise to our feet and sleepily sink to the ground agani as 
 the danger passed awa}'. Our misery was increased by a chilly, 
 soaking rain, and while we counted the slowly passing hours of 
 that dismal, drear}' night upon that dismal field, the din of the 
 battle was ever in our ears, and in the early dawn we were 
 thorough!)' wakened by the sudden roar of a hundred pieces of 
 artillery. 
 
 Under their fire a squad from our brigade volunteered to bring 
 off two guns left in the salient, and succeeded, only to find them 
 
 1. Capt. H. A. Mattison. 
 
 2. Robertson. 
 
no 
 
 unfit for service, the wheels being destroyed b}- numberless bul- 
 lets. The skirmish over these guns was the only fighting in 
 our front that day. 
 
 The great battle of Spottsylvania was over. Our loss was 
 about 26,000,* the confederate loss about one-third as great. 
 From the Wilderness to Spottsylvania, seven days in time, 
 84,598 men on both sides had fallen, and our work was not 
 yet done. 
 
 The next two days and nights we were moved from point to 
 point in tentative or defensive efforts, always within hearing and 
 reach of whizzing bullets or screeching shells, until we had 
 changed from the extreme right to the extreme left of the lines, 
 and were facing the opposite direction. 
 
 By another weary night march we found ourselves at day 
 break of the 18th back to our battlefield of the 12th, and formed 
 in two lines of battle for another assault. The new confederate 
 line was intrenched across the '-horseshoe" and was protected 
 by at strong abattis, and, as we moved steadily forward we were 
 met by such a volley from the front and such raking with grape 
 and shrapnel from the flank that advance was impossible, and 
 retreat too dangerous, so we were compelled to lie down among 
 the heaps of unburied dead which made the air fetid and sicken- 
 ing, and listen to the shrieking of shells as they flew back and 
 forth over our heads for liours. About noon a lull in the firing 
 enabled us to withdraw to the trenches. 
 
 At 10 that evening we marched back to our position on the 
 left, deafened by all day's thunder of artillery and weary and 
 sore from the march and struggle of the day, On the inarch 
 we witnessed alight worth a day's battle and a midnight march 
 to see. It was raining, and shortly after midnight the moon 
 shone through a rift in the clouds, clearly outlining on the oppo- 
 site clouds a beautiful rainbow. The wearied and drooping sol- 
 diers looked upon it as a bow of promise and greeted it witli 
 cheers that made the gloomy forest ring. 
 
 (*Pliislerer's Statistical H»x-<)fil.) 
 
Ill 
 
 During these days of battle Gen. Barlow had been annoyed 
 and angered by the constant skulking of some of the men in his 
 command, and determined to use heroic treatment to cure the 
 disease, and to punish some, as an example to others. 
 
 So, while we lay under the fire of the enemy's guns on the 
 i8th, he decided upon a court martial, and sent orders to the 
 commanding officers of all companies to at once formulate and 
 prefer charges against all members of their commands who had 
 been guilty of cowardl}^ conduct. 
 
 The court martial was organized on the spot, with myself 
 judge advocate, and our court was immediately opened for trials. 
 Just imagine, if you can, a court sitting for the trial of men for 
 their lives, when the life of each member of the court was not 
 worth a moment's purchase 1 In all our intervals of rest from 
 active fighting and marching, that court was kept in session, 
 inflicting a number of minor sentences, until the 21st of May, 
 when the court fulfilled the stern ideas of justice entertained by 
 our commanding general, by the following judgment upon an 
 unlucky wight who had deserted in the face of the enemy : 
 "And the court do hereby sentence him, the said Albert Bohler, 
 private Company K., 3gth New York Volunteers, to be shot to 
 death by musketr}' at such time and place as the commanding 
 general may direct, two-thirds of the court concurring therein." 
 
 I believe, however, that poor Bohler escaped being shot, for 
 at that time death sentence had to be approved by the Presi- 
 dent, and, it is said, he never approved such sentences but 
 commuted them to some other form of punishment. Perhaps 
 our hero still lives to eiijoy the honors the people accord so freely 
 to the soldier, and a pension of the highest grade. 
 
 On the 19th Ewell made his famous attempt to cut us off from 
 the Fredericksburg pike, which brought him almost into the 
 headquarters of Grant, swallowing the field hospitals, paroling as 
 prisoners of war our wounded and the attending surgeons. 
 
 Some new heavy artillery regiments were in his way, and we 
 were ordered up to their aid at double quick, Grant directing 
 the movement in person, and Ewell's triumphant advance was 
 
112 
 
 checked and his phms abandoned when he felt the stinging 
 volleys of our thoroughly roused and determined army. With 
 tliese movements ended the attempt to break the enemy's lines 
 at Spottsylvania, and our next order was to be again "by the 
 left flank — March !" Fourteen weary days and fourteen weary 
 nights of bloody fighting and sleepless marching had exhausted 
 the army. It was stunned and dazed by the blows it had given 
 and received, and it fairly trembled and staggered with weak- 
 ness from its fatigue and losses. 
 
 From Spotisvlvania Onward. 
 
 The tactical movements which kept the Arm\' of the Potomac 
 briskly marching, countermarching and fighting about the 
 entrenchments of Spottsylvania for nearly a week after the great 
 battle of May 12th, 1864, had apparently demonstrated the futil- 
 ity of further attempts to break the well-defended lines of our 
 vigilant enemy. The cost would be too great, and a new move- 
 ment by the left flank was under contemplation. 
 
 As usual, the actual movement was foreshadowed by many 
 rumors, by which, diversified as they were, the 2d corps came to 
 understand that it was selected for a dangerous enterprise, the 
 nature of which was unknown, but the rumops gave rise to much 
 curiosity and some apprehension. About dark of May 20th, 
 1864, orders were received to march at 11. onl}' the 2d corps 
 being included in the marching orders. Promptly at the hour 
 specified we took the road. It was a beautiful moonlit night, 
 and the tedium of a night march when sleep was much needed 
 was somewhat relieved as we reflected that during the day the 
 heat and dust would have been almost intolerable. 
 
 It was a rapid march until 2 p. m. of the following day, through 
 a country not before disturbed by marching troops, and great 
 was the astonishment and dismay pictured on the faces of the 
 people as we marched, with flags flying, and to the music of fife 
 and drum, through Guinness Station and Bowling Green, and 
 as great was the astonishment of the fowls, which, in the piping 
 times of peace, had not learned the necessity of roosting high in 
 stirring times of war. 
 
113 
 
 Reaching Milford, where the Fredericksburg & Richmond 
 railroad crosses the Mattapony, we found the enemy's pickets on 
 the other bank. The advance was pushed over the river by 
 wading in the water to their arm-pits, holding ammunition, 
 haversacks and muskets over their heads. The rebels, (the}' 
 were but few) stood not upon the order of their going, but went 
 at once, and the corps was rapidly thrown across the partly dis- 
 mantled bridge, and formed upon the high banks, where we 
 were at once set to work intrenching. Towards evening a small 
 cavalry force recconnoitered our position and attacked our picket 
 line, but was quickly repulsed. We now had time to discover 
 that our corps was isolated from the remainder of the army some 
 twenty miles in rear of Lee's position at Spottsylvania, and that 
 there was every reason to expect that Lee would hurl against us 
 his whole force as soon as our isolated position became known. 
 
 The following day, though Sunday, brought us no rest, for 
 the work of intrenching was continued until formidable earth- 
 works frowned upon the hozizon in ever}' direction, giving cour- 
 age to the men, who momentarily expected to be attacked. But 
 our labors were to prove futile, for, as we rested from our work, 
 and, in the evening twilight, discussed our varied and palatable 
 bill of fare, we learned that Lee had retreated, by another route, 
 towards Hanover Junction, and that the rest of the army was in 
 rapid pursuit. Our own instructions were, to be ready to move 
 whevever ordered, so that night we slept upon our arms in 
 marching order, but, happil}- for the wear}- men, it was morning 
 of the 23d before we started on a rapid march, through heat and 
 dust, with no more than absolutely necessary halts, towards the 
 North Anna, which we reached at 3 p. m., to find that Lee's rear 
 had just crossed, leaving a small force in a tete dn pont, covering 
 the turnpike bridge. 
 
 The head of our column formed at once and kept up a rapid 
 exchange of volleys with this force until the corps had closed 
 up, about 6 p. M., when the 2d Brigade of Birney's Division was 
 formed for an assault, and after a sharp fight, carried the posi- 
 tion, one regiment, the 93d New York Volunteers, following the 
 
114 
 
 flying rebels nearly to tlie other side of the river before the 
 order for recall could reach it. An act of individual heroism 
 occurring here is deserving of mention. In returning to the 
 north bank the color-bearer of the 93d fell wounded, and with 
 the colors was left unnoticed in the centre of the bridge. When 
 the loss was discovered Lieut. Wm. Ball, of Company " K," 
 braved the musketry fire which was centered on the bridge and 
 cooll}' brought off the colors, but paid for his devotion to the flag 
 by receiving a ball which shattered his ankle. The color-bearer 
 was not rescued until later. 
 
 Volleys were exchanged across the river until late, and a 
 heavy picket fire was kept up far into the night, but that failed 
 to disturb the slumbers of those who had endured the burden of 
 the matching and fighting of the day. 
 
 On the morning of the 24th the sun rose like a disc of molten 
 brass, presaging a day of terrible heat, and making us long for 
 shelter from its rays. But it was not long before we were to 
 wish for shelter from something hotter yet, for our brigade (the 
 I St) was pushed across Jericho bridge to the south bank of the 
 river, on the right of the Richmond Railroad, to seize and hold 
 a position which should enable a pontoon bridge to be laid to 
 facilitate the crossing of a greater force, which was soon accom- 
 plished. Three of our regiments were deployed as skirmishers 
 on the right of the telegraph road, and advanced skirmishing 
 till we found the enemy strongly intrenched behind earth works. 
 Nothing but the inequalities of the surface furnished us any 
 protection from the heavy fire we drew, and we were compelled 
 to lie prone and hug the ground under a hot sun and a hot mus- 
 ketry fire until about 3 v. m.. when we were withdrawn a little 
 to the rear, and to the left of the railroad, where we enjoyed 
 more protection from the enemy's volleys. Gibbons' division 
 had been pushed to the front and was heavily engaged, and just 
 before dark a heavy line of infantry moved from the works upon 
 him. We were advanced to his support and were almost imme- 
 diately thrown into the front, dealing and receiving heavy blows. 
 In the thickest of the fight a heaw thunder storm arose, the 
 
115 
 
 heavens seemed to open and sheets of water poured down, not 
 only putthig an end to the fight, but completely veiling the con- 
 tending forces from each other, although but a few rods apart 
 on an open field. Before the flood ceased falling, the enemy's 
 line had disappeared, and the darkness of night had come upon 
 us. Our drenched and wearied soldiers sought the driest spots 
 the ground afforded and were soon at rest. We lost some fifty 
 in killed and wounded from our little and rapidly waning 
 brigade. 
 
 The day following we were busily engaged in destroying the 
 railroad bridge and the track on both sides of the river. The 
 rails and ties were torn up. heaps made of the ties, upon which 
 were laid the rails, and the heaps fired. The rails when heated 
 red were seized by the men and twisted around trees like neck- 
 ties, rendering them more ornamental than useful. 
 
 Little of interest occurred until the afternoon of the 26th, 
 when we were attacked by a strong line issuing from the rebel 
 earthworks, and had an hour's brisk engagement before the 
 enemy was repulsed. Later they made a similar attempt on 
 Gibbons' line to our right, which was only ended by the dark- 
 ness of night. 
 
 Soon we were ordered to detail two regiments to throw up 
 intrenchments on the north side of the river, to which we were 
 to withdraw some time during the night, the remainder of our 
 brigade being left to hold the advanced line south of the river 
 until all the rest had crossed. At midnight our line was aban- 
 doned and we crossed, taking up the pontoons and forming in 
 the new line, our retreat being closely followed by a heavy 
 picket line of the enemy, which made things lively for us with 
 their whizzing, spattering bullets, both before and after our 
 crossing. 
 
 During the morning of the 27th we destroyed nearly thirteen 
 miles of the railroad, and at 11 a. m. started on another flank 
 movement, via Concord Church to a point some miles north of 
 Nelson's Ford on the Pamunkey River, which we reached for 
 bivouac a little after midnight, after a weary march under a hot 
 sun and in sultry showers. 
 
116 
 
 On tlie 28tli we made an early start, crossing the Pamunkey 
 at noon without opposition, and taking a position near Hanover- 
 town. Late in the afternoon, our brigade received orders to 
 move as rapidly as possible to the support of Sheridan's Cavalry- 
 reported to be engaged with Ewell's Infantry, a mile in front. 
 
 Riding in advance to report our approach, I found numerous 
 evidences of fighting having occurred at various points, and at 
 last" found Sheridan's flag in a fence corner, where a group of 
 officers, most of them in their shirt sleeves, were discussing 
 some boiled chicken served in a large tin pail. Asking for Gen. 
 Sheridan, a little man holding a chicken leg, responded, " I am 
 your man, what is wanted? " Reporting that Miles' Infantry 
 Brigade was on its way to support him, he jovially replied, 
 " Glad to see you, with that news, get down and have some 
 chicken." Such an invitation at such a time, could not be re- 
 fused. That impromptu dinner, gave me the first glimpse of 
 the real character of one who was already famous, and whose 
 name is now enrolled as one of the nation's greatest and most 
 lamented heroes. 
 
 The cavalry had been fighting inch by inch dismounted, had 
 driven the enemy some miles, and was now lying behind the 
 scant shelter afforded by a demolished rail fence on the other 
 side of the field. When our brigade came up, we relieved them 
 and at once commenced the work of intrenching against the 
 heavy force known to be in our front, which consisted of Ewell's 
 Division at least. We were making ourselves as comfortable as 
 possible for the night, when we received orders to march back 
 to our position on the Pamunkey. 
 
 The next day, (agth) being Sunday, one of our chaplains pro- 
 posed the novelty of holding divine service, and the brigade was 
 assembled for that purpose. Hardly had the first prayers ended, 
 when marching orders came, and the beat of the drum took the 
 place of a hymn of praise as we quickh" formed. Instead of a 
 march by the flank, the whole brigade, with the exception of the 
 color companies of each regiment was deployed in a skirmish 
 line nearly a mile in length, with its center on the road leading 
 
117 
 
 to Atlee's station which is only a few miles from Richmond. 
 The color companies formed a short line of battle in the rear, 
 also preserving its center on the road, and thus we pressed 
 forward. At a fork in the road some mounted videttes were 
 seen, but they seemed not to desire our acquaintance and dis- 
 appeared. On reaching the Shelton house, a fine southern 
 mansion situated on and overlooking Totopotomy creek, our 
 skirmish line came under fire from the enemy's skirmish line 
 posted on the opposite bank, and was halted. Several of us 
 dismounted, and passed through the spacious hall to the rear of 
 the house, to discover if possible, the position and strength of 
 the enemy. We found a long line of infantry resting with arms 
 stacked in front of the woods and in full view. Our approach 
 put an end to the resting spell, and the line was quickly formed 
 and retired into the woods, leaving a picket line in rifle pits 
 along the bank in their front. 
 
 While we were taking in the situation our attention was at- 
 tracted by the wails of women and children, to the family, whose 
 house we had invaded, consisting of the matronl}^ Mrs. Shelton, 
 her three daughters, one of whom was married, and some 
 children and servants, all of whom had fled for refuge to the 
 basement, and were now grouped terror-stricken, in the area 
 way below the porch we occupied. 
 
 It was a scene which compelled sympathy, and awakened all the 
 humanity in our natures. The young mother with eyes filled 
 with tears held out a bright and smiling babe saying, "You will 
 not harm my little darling will you?" I took the baby, kissed 
 and fondled it for a moment, and handed it carefully to the 
 somewhat reassured, but still doubting mother, and, with the 
 assurance that we made no war on women and children, urged 
 them to go back out of danger, as occasional shots were spat- 
 tering against the side of the house. 
 
 From them we learned chat Breckenridge's Division was in 
 our front, that Mr, Shelton who knew the general, had gone to 
 ask protection for his family, shortly before our arrival on the 
 scene, and of course, he was unable to return and rejoin his 
 
118 
 
 wife, daughters and grandchild, who were now filled with the 
 utmost apprehensions, but refused peremptorily to accept our 
 offer to escort them to some place of safet\', in our rear. We 
 carried beds and other necessaries for their comfort into the 
 basement, and barricaded the windows with logs, completing 
 a fair extempore fortification for the beleaguered famil}', which 
 now begun to look upon us as friends and defenders, instead of 
 enemies. Soon batteries were unmasked in the edge of the 
 woods, and a few shells w^ere thrown, but without much damage 
 to us, and a continuous firing was kept up between the picket 
 lines and intrenching parties till darkness put an end to it. 
 Some darkies, not realizing the danger, attempted to drive up 
 the cows from the bottom lands at milking time, and their be- 
 wilderment as they listened to the music of the minnies, and 
 their abject fright when the fact dawned upon them that they 
 were being fired at, would have been comical had it not been so 
 pathetic. On going to the basement to look after the welfare of 
 our new found friends, Mrs. Shelton, with true southern hos- 
 pitality offered to prepare supper for our staff if we were content 
 to accept what she had, and expressed regret for the absence of 
 tea, coffee and sugar. Sincere was her pleasure when we ac- 
 cepted the invitation and produced from our haversacks, a sup- 
 ply of these luxuries. The garden had not suffered much as 
 yet, and we gathered strawberries, the cows having come up 
 from the bottoms were milked, and we enjoyed heartily a dinner 
 enfamille, prepared b\- fair hands and graced b}' the presence of 
 cultivated ladies, the table covered with snowy linen and other 
 garnishments to which we had long been unaccustomed. It was 
 a bright bit of green in the desert of war, and memory will long 
 linger over, and often revert to an occasion, in which real 
 pleasure and real apprehensions were so equall}- proportioned. 
 The dinner and after visit being over, we saw the family placed 
 as comfortably as possible and withdrew to the shelter of the 
 trees for the night. 
 
 We were out and in line at daylight of the 30th, and discovered 
 a line of intrenchments, which had been thrown up in the night. 
 
119 
 
 in the margin of the woods in front of us, not 500 yards awa}'. 
 We could ahnost look into the mouths of several field pieces in 
 position, and protected by lunettes. 
 
 Having but a thin skirmish line on our side, we had thrown 
 up but light intrenchments, but this looked as if serious work 
 was before us, and we now commenced intrenching in earnest. 
 The remainder of the corps was brought up and formed in two 
 lines a short distance in our rear, and several Cohorn Mortars 
 quickly placed in position some distance to the left of the house, 
 with Arnold's battery, which was brought up on the run. A rapid 
 fire was kept up from the enemy's picket line, annoying and 
 endangering the entrenching parties, and soon we were further 
 annoyed by shots from the batteries, but our little Cohorns did 
 effective work in temporarily silencing the guns, and the work 
 was rapidly proceeded with. Gens. Hancock and Barlow, with 
 several members of their respective staffs, came up to inspect 
 the position, and, with us, proceeded to the spot where the 
 Cohorns were being operated, and, standing a little in rear of 
 them, presented a tempting target to the enemy's artillery men, 
 who suddenly opened fire. One of the shells struck the top of 
 the embankment and exploded, the fragments and contents 
 whizzing amidst the group, covering all with dirt, but, fortu- 
 nately and strangely, injuring no one, though it put an end to 
 our curiosity in that direction. 
 
 Now several guns of the other side were turned upon the 
 house, and shells and solid shot went tearing through it, but for- 
 tunately for the family, the range was above ths floor and none 
 struck as low as the basement, where they were sheltered. One 
 shell exploded in the "best room," shattering everytliing 
 breakable, and tearing into shreds the silk curtains of an 
 old-fashioned canopied bed, but without setting it on fire. The 
 women and children down stairs were completely unnerved by 
 fright, and were alternately shrieking and praying. Their posi- 
 tion was indeed a trying one, entitling them to the warmest 
 sympathy and protection, as far as it could be given. We made 
 occasional visits to the basement windows and attempted to 
 
120 
 
 reassure lliciii, wliih; \vc ourselves were iilled with the keenest 
 apiuclieusions for their safety, and vainly ur^ed them to remove, 
 under escort, to a place of safety in the rear, for a slight depres- 
 sion of the enemy's guns might cause an explosion in their 
 midst, as had happened in the room overhead. 
 
 Towards evening, Ames' battery came dashing uj), was quickly 
 unlimbered and thrown into position some distance to the left of 
 Arnold's, and a brisk cannonade from both soon drew the fire 
 from the house, and reh'eved the situation a little of its horrors, 
 and a brisk artillery duel was kept uj) until most of the enemy's 
 •;uns were silenced. 
 
 In this engagement, Lieut. Hunt, of Ames' battery, had his 
 heel torn off by a fragment of shell. Being carried to the porch 
 of the Shelton house, he narrowly escaped being crushed by the 
 falling of a pillar knocked out of place by one of the enemy's 
 shots. Little mattered it to him, brave, dying soldier, for 
 tetanus set in, and he was soon among the gallant dead. 
 
 We had wondered at the time of the battle why the fire of the 
 enemy's guns was so savagely centered upon the house. Mr. 
 Shelton infornied me that when we occupied the bank of the 
 creek he wished to return to his family, but was not permitted 
 to do so, and was detained at Gen. Breckinridge's headquarters. 
 That when the shelling commenced he begged that the guns 
 might not be turned upon the house, but Breckinridge assured 
 him that the family must have gone to the rear, that we were 
 using the house for an observation tower, and also for a shelter 
 behind which to mass troops, and that we must be shelled out 
 of that position. Thus he was compelled to witness the bom- 
 bardment his family endured from the guns of his friends, while 
 he was helpless to stay it. 
 
 Our intrenched line ran along the edge of the bank of the 
 ravine, and a row of slave cabins stood in the rear of it and to 
 the left of the house. Some of the artillery caissons were 
 by the cabins to be convenient to the guns and yet concealed 
 from the enemy by the cabins, from which it was thought all 
 
 Note— The writer visited the SheUon family in the autumn of 1865, and was received 
 most kindly and hospitably. 
 
121 
 
 the negroes had fled. In the very midst of the cannonading an 
 old black granny came out of a cabin and innocently emptied a 
 pan of hot ashes into a dismounted limber chest, and an explo- 
 sion followed, demoralizing caisson and cabin, and killing and 
 wounding several of the artillerists and infantn,- men near it. 
 Will some one ask what became of the old woman ? We never 
 learned. She disappeared with the cabin.* 
 
 All day long we had to endure the danger of exploding shells, 
 and the short range fire of the skirmish line, and just before 
 dark were ordered to move forward to attack the enem\-, and 
 were forming for the charge, when Hancock, who had come to 
 the front in person, countermanded the order. 
 
 That evening the 2d New York Heavy Artillery', < lately- from 
 the defences at Washington ) commanded bj' Col. J. N. G. 
 Whistler, was assigned to our brigade and placed in position on 
 its left. Its line was longer than that of the five regiments we 
 already had, and it was divided into three battalions to make it 
 more nearly correspond with them in our future maneuvers. To 
 myseli fell the dut> of seeing that it properly intrenched itself, 
 which, with other duties, occupied most of the night and gave 
 little opportunity- for rest, something we much desired, not onlj- 
 because we were nearly worn out, but because we felt that hot 
 work awaited us in the morning. 
 
 VNTien the first streaks of dawn appeared we were put to work 
 still further to strengthen our defenses by an abattis of felled 
 trees, and man^' a shot whizzed uncomfortabh' near us as we 
 went from place to place along the line superintending the 
 work. A heavy mail, the first we had received since leaving the 
 lines at SpottSN'lvania, made glad the hearts of man}'. To some 
 it brought messages of love from anxious hearts at home, to 
 some promotion: to Miles his brigadier's commission, and we 
 read and discussed the letters and papers amidst a continuous 
 fire of the sharpshooters. A large group of officers was gathered 
 at the Shelton house awaiting the baskets containing our break- 
 fast, and wondering what the day would bring forth. The 
 
 *Geii. Walker is his bistory of the 2d Corps, p. 50. ^^ajc ^he escaped aabBrt. aad 
 adds. " in Uie army it always -srvs tbe fool doiap Uie misduef vbo got off safe. 
 
122 
 
 breakfast arrived and was uncovered, but at an unfortunate 
 moment, for the rebel batteries again opened with a furious can- 
 nonade, and shot and shell again came tearing through the 
 house, one shell with seeming malice coming out through the 
 wall and casing of a window, almost burj'ing our breakfast in 
 lime, bricks and shattered glass. A few minutes later Capt. 
 McCullough, commanding the 8ist Pennsylvania, was mortally 
 wounded by a sharpshooter. The mail had just brought him 
 his commission as major, and we had hardly ceased our con- 
 gratulations when his call came. At the same time it was 
 reported that the enemy had left his works, and we had orders 
 to fall in for an assault. To me fell the lot of directing the 
 movements of our new regiment, the heavy artillery. This 
 regiment, with the 183d Pennsylvania, was to charge its direct 
 front, while the rest of the brigade was to charge obliquely to 
 the right, niaking thus two lines of assault, diverging from 
 each other. 
 
 The 2d moved finel}' down the slope to the creek bottom, but 
 there found itself floundering in a bushy marsh of some width 
 while on the sharp bluff on the other side was plainly visible a 
 well-manned breastwork. The marsh and the stream were be- 
 tween us and the enemy's position, and while the men sinking 
 to their middles in the oozy mud were doing their best to push 
 through it, a galling and plunging fire was directed upon them 
 from the rebel line. It was more than new troops could stand, 
 probably more than older troops could be expected to stand. 
 Their colonel ordered them to lie down and conceal themselves 
 as best they could under shelter of the bushes, and begged me 
 to report to Miles that it was utterly impossible to continue the 
 charge in such a morass, under such a murderous fire. Re- 
 mounting, I rode safely up the hill, and found Miles and Barlow 
 together closely watching the movement. Delivering Col. 
 Whistler's message. Barlow quickly responded: "Go back 
 and tell Col. Whistler there must be no imi)ossibilities; that his 
 regiment must charge the. works in his front. Tell him to do it 
 with a yell." 
 
123 
 
 I tried to state my own opinion of the situation, but Barlow 
 refused to listen, and cut me off with: " You are losing valuable 
 time; they must push forward at once." I turned and rode 
 rapidly down that bullet-swept slope. Whiz — zip, sung the 
 minnies in my ears, but there was one that sung not, but meant 
 business. It plunked itself into me.* 
 
 Reeling in the saddle, I had consciousness long enough to kick 
 the stirrups free, and went flying through the air. That message 
 was not delivered; that charge was not made. 
 
 It is a strange sensation one has when he finds himself flying, 
 and knows not whither. Towards earth, of course, but maybe 
 into worlds beyond. When consciousness began to return, it 
 seemed as if the most delicious music filled the air, but its 
 symphonies gradually dissolved into the rattle of musketry, the 
 crashing booms of cannon, and the yells of contending men, 
 mingled with the groans of the wounded and dying. My faith- 
 ful horse stood over me mournfully whinnying and licking my 
 face. Men singly and in groups were rushing by me up the 
 slope hoping to gain a place of safety, numbers of them falling, 
 until the slope was dotted with their writhing or silent forms. 
 Several stopped and tried to rescue me, but every such attempt 
 brought a vengeful volley, and several times I was left to myself, 
 in full sight, and within short range of the enemy's line. At 
 last one of our guns was turned upon that part of the line, 
 and in the lull of their musketry fire, Adjt. (later Col.) Church 
 of the 26th Michigan, brought a party to my rescue. Rolling 
 me in a blanket, they dragged and carried me to the breast- 
 works, where a stretcher was waiting to bear me to the ambulance 
 which should in turn carry me to the field hospital. 
 
 That ride, the operating table under the trees, the surgeon's 
 probe, and the hours that followed were more like a dreamy 
 rest than anything else until the reaction came with its torturing 
 pangs. 
 
 *A niiiiiiie baU struck 1110 in Uio front of the rig-ht liip, passing- throug-h the rig-ht 
 ilium and the abdomen, rcstirifr uikUm- tho slvin over the left hip, whence it was 
 extracted. 
 
124 > 
 
 Tlic next day a long procession of ambulances antl wagons 
 filled with wounded started for Whitehouse Landing to enable 
 the army to march unincumbered by sucli impediments, towards 
 its new lines at Cold Harbor. 
 
 It is difficult to describe tlie torture of two da}s in an ambu- 
 lance jolting over corn fields and rough corduroy roads under a 
 hot Virginia sun, with suffering on every side, and racking pains 
 inside, witli death a constant companion, and often looked at as 
 a welcome relief. It must be experienced to be realized. 
 
 Our destination was Whiteliouse Landing, not far away as 
 the crow Hies, but the enemy held that line, and we were com- 
 pelletl to take a long detour of some fort}- miles. We had no 
 medical attendance, no assistance of any kind, but what the 
 driver could give us. He would prepare coffee morning and 
 evening, and keep our canteens supplied with water for our 
 wountls, the only dressing they had. At last we reach the 
 Pamunkey, and, while waiting for the railroad bridge to be 
 planked for our crossing, a host of nurses and emissaries of the 
 Sanitary and Christian Commissions surrounded us and vied 
 with each other in giving restoratives, and with tender hantls 
 washing the wounds, and with soft voices bringing hope and 
 consolation to the despondent. 
 
 Soon we were rocking on the river in the steamers carrying 
 us towards home. The senses that were strained almost to the 
 numbness of death by long and acute suffering, began again to 
 realize and enjoy the sweetness of life, and, lulled to peaceful 
 sluml^ers, one would revel in dreams, antl wake again to enjoy 
 perfect rest and infinite peace, which bring hope and content to 
 the heart of the worn out, wounded soldier, whose face is now 
 set towards the haven of the fireside and the tender care of the 
 loving hearts and hands which await his coming. 
 
 Can any one who has partaken of this sacrament of the bloody 
 days of the war neglect to pay a heartfelt tribute to those angels 
 of tlie battlefield and the hospital, that noble band of heroines, 
 who without hope of rank or fame, hovered close upon the edge 
 of battle to staunch the wounds of the living, and whisper con- 
 
125 
 
 solation to tlie dying ? The army nurse ! Heaven's choicest 
 blessings rest upon her everywhere and evermore. 
 
 But the end was not yet for the Army of the Potomac, whose 
 subsequent battles have made so grand a page in history Still 
 the undaunted courage, the determined valor which had sus- 
 tained it tluis far, was not only alive but burning with patriotic 
 fire, and when the announcement was made that its march was 
 still "on to Richmond," that grand old patriot army was ready 
 to say, " lead on." Not the loss of 64,000 brave men, not days 
 and nights of sleepless toil and danger, could shake its faith in 
 final success, for it fought with " ba3^onets which thought." 
 The army had become a machine, but it was a machine endowed 
 with intellect, and it knew that only by blood and privations 
 could the final glorious victory be attained. It knew that it 
 took more men to storm intrenchments than to hold them when 
 stormed. It knew that the army on the defensive was harder to 
 shatter than the one striking the blow. It knew that its bloody 
 battles of the past had never been fought to full fruition, while 
 now they were. It knew its own temper, and it knew now that 
 its proper leader was found. It knew that under that leadership 
 no more lives were being lost in battles which were leading to 
 success than were lost by disease in the peninsula marshes, or 
 in the fruitless campaigns of Antietam and Gettysburg.* It 
 knew that our country was worth saving, even at the cost of all 
 this sacrifice, and niany there were who were ready — nay, will- 
 ing, to ride or march gaily on to victory or to death, if Grant 
 were there to point the way. 
 
 It had grown to love the grand old flag of our country as only 
 a soldier can love it, and with a love which those who have not 
 experienced, can hardly imagine the strength or volume of. 
 
 Torn, riddled or bloody as the old rag may be, to the soldier 
 it is all the more beautiful in its tatters, for it is the emblem of 
 all he loves, with a love that impels him to die, if need be, for 
 the object of his love. I have seen men rush into almost cer- 
 tain death to save the colors from falling into an enemy's hands. 
 
 *Fruitless, because defensive, not aggressive. 
 
126 
 
 1 liave seen a shell tear oft the arms of a color-bearer, and seen 
 him clasp the bleeding stumps about the flag as he fell, bathing 
 it in liis dying blood, leaving the blood-stained relic sacred in 
 his comrades' eyes forever more. I have seen color- bearers 
 shot down and others struggle for the dangerous post of carry- 
 ing the flag like a sunburst of glory into the jaws of death. 
 
 \ have a bit of blood-stained silk which is sacred to me, as a 
 part of my own regimental flag, which has been unfurled and 
 proudly floated on twenty battlefields of the rebellion, and under 
 whose folds twenty-two heroic color-bearers were killed and 
 wounded in that single campaign. It is a priceless relic which 
 money cannot buy. 
 
 It was of such material that the Army of the Potomac was 
 composed, after it had been thoroughly winnowed by the winds 
 of disease' the hot blasts of battle, and the toil of three years of 
 almost fruitless but bloody campaigns ; and, as an humble par- 
 ticipant in all its great campaigns, from the Peninsula until near 
 its last, I trust l' may be pardoned for the expression of a belief, 
 that its great privations, weary marches, and bloody battles, 
 entitles it to be ranked along with, if not at the head of the 
 greatest and best armies the world has ever produced, and, that 
 it is entitled to the love and reverence of the nation, to save 
 which it marched and fought through toils, sufferings, priva- 
 tions and blood, on the path of glory towards the grave. 
 
 To the survivors of that grand army my heart goes out in 
 brotherhood and love, and to its noble, heroic dead, in deepest 
 reverence and sorrowful remembrance. 
 
 " May we meet and greet in closing ranks, 
 In time's declining sun. 
 When the bugles of God shall sound recall, 
 And the battle of life be won." 
 
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