Chapter 7

Elsewhere I have spoken of an "unconditional surrender" Union man whom I overhauled while on picket duty on the Norfolk and Petersburg railroad. All southern men--and women, too, as to that matter--were not so loyal as that old man was, as is shown by the following incident which occurred on the morning of our arrival in Suffolk. While marching down the principal street we were halted for a few minutes. Immediately all the doorsteps of the houses were appropriated by our men to their own use. My doorstep belonged to a house which had all the appearance of being occupied by one of the "first families." Presently a well dressed, intelligent looking, elderly lady appeared at the door and inquired what regiment ours was. Before time was given me to reply, a comrade who was sharing the step with me, said, "One Hundred and Eleventh Rhode Island!" She then asked, "Is that in North Carolina?" To assist her in locating "Little Rhody," I remarked that Massachusetts was its nearest neighbor, presuming that all southerners knew where the "bottled up" hero of Dutch Gap belonged when at home. Having straightened out her geography, which seemed considerably mixed, she then wanted to know what we came out there for. I told her we came to fight for the Union. With considerable fire in her eye, and vinegar in her tone, she replied, "They tell me you've come down here to fight for the nasty niggers; and if I were a man, I would resist to the death before _I_ would do such a thing!" Here the conversation was suddenly interrupted by the order to "fall in," and I left the old lady soliloquizing upon the causes which led to the war, and its probable result to both North and South. Whether she had confounded Rhode Island with Roanoke Island by reason of the similarity of names, or whether our sudden appearance in front of her residence had caused her to lose her reckoning generally, I am not sure. Possibly she was not up in geography.

We had our pastimes when in camp. While we were at Suffolk it was not an uncommon thing just after supper to see the men of Companies I and K (commonly known as the Young Men's Christian Association companies) holding prayer-meetings in the open air and singing revival melodies at the ends of their streets, while the men of the other companies, at the ends of their streets, would be dancing to the music of a violin or banjo, or singing songs of a less spiritual character than those of the Y. M. C. A. companies, all having a good time in their way, and neither infringing nor trespassing upon the rights of the others, although some of the men in the regiment, I feel compelled to say, were not the embodiment of all the Christian virtues.

While we were in winter quarters on Miner's Hill, the religiously inclined men of the regiment erected a log chapel in which to hold services in the evening and on Sundays. No church bell summoned them to worship, but a few taps of the drum or a few notes from the bugle, or, better still, the singing of some old, familiar hymn learned in boyhood in New England homes, served as a "church call," and from every part of the camp the men came to reverently worship the God of battles. I like good church music, but believe me when I say that I would not exchange the memory of one of those grand old hymns which "the boys" used to sing with "the spirit, and the understanding also," at their meetings in that old log chapel, and into which they threw their whole souls, for all of the so called "classical music" which I have since heard rendered by grand organ and artistic quartette on two continents.

One Sabbath while we were in Suffolk, a special service for the soldiers who were on duty there was held in one of the churches, the chaplains of the various regiments officiating. The house was filled to its utmost capacity,--the galleries, the aisles, the pulpit steps and the vestibule,--while many were unable to find even standing room. At the close of the sermon, officers and men knelt together at the same altar, their confessions and supplications ascending to a common Father, and, irrespective of distinctive creed or belief, partook of the Lord's Supper, realizing as never before the truth that "God is no respecter of persons;" and to one at least of that company of reverent worshipers, the Master's words, "This do in remembrance of ME," had a deeper significance than ever before.

Religious services were also held at the Convalescent Camp, for there were some faithful Christian men even there who did not forget their religious vows when the fortunes of war called them away from their homes and accustomed places of worship. At one of the evening meetings in the large tent, which was filled to its utmost limits, an invitation was given to those present who were striving, as "soldiers of the cross," to render faithful service to the Captain of their salvation, to raise the right hand. In response to the request, a large number of hands were raised. It occurred, however, to the leader of the meeting that some were there whose right arms had been shot off, and to such he gave opportunity to raise the left hand--and there were quite a number raised. But the most affecting sight was when a few men who had lost both arms in battle, and had only stumps remaining, rose to their feet and gave evidence of their loyalty to their Lord and Master. Such men could well sing at the close of the service:

"God of all nations! sovereign Lord, In Thy dread name we draw the sword; We lift the starry flag on high, That fills with light our stormy sky.

"From treason's rent, from murder's stain, Guard Thou its folds till peace shall reign, Till fort and field, till shore and sea, Join our loud anthem, PRAISE TO THEE!"

I used to be greatly amused at times at the kind of literature which reached us when in camp from kind friends at home who were solicitous concerning our moral welfare. Sometimes it was very evident that a book or tract smuggled itself into the package sent which had never been "passed upon" by any member of the Christian Commission. Just think of placing a cook-book in the hands of a man who had been living for months on hard-tack and salt junk, with no prospect of a change in diet for months to come!

I am reminded, in this connection, of an incident which occurred in one of the hospitals in Washington. A kind-hearted Christian lady passed through the wards one day distributing religious tracts. She placed one in the hands of a young soldier who was occupying one of the numerous cots. As she turned away from him on her mission of love, she heard him laugh. The good woman's feelings were hurt, and retracing her steps she mildly rebuked him for his seeming rudeness and ingratitude. He begged her pardon and assured her that no discourtesy was intended, and remarked that he was amused by the inappropriateness of the title of the tract she had given him, "The Sin of Dancing," when both of his legs had been shot off.