Part 2

On the afternoon of February ninth, we broke camp and took the cars for Acquia Creek, en route for Fortress Monroe, as was supposed, but really for Newport News. There was hilarious rejoicing on all hands at the prospect of at last getting away from our abominable quarters. The huts were set on fire; bonfires were made from the great piles of combustible debris which had accumulated during the winter; the rude barns which had sheltered our horses and mules added to the conflagration, and for an hour or so before embarking we held high carnival amidst the smoking ruins of "Camp Misery." At Acquia Creek we went on board the transport steamers Metamora and Juniata, and the next morning steamed down the broad Potomac.

The agreeable change of situation, together with the pleasant sail, were very invigorating, and the men seemed almost to forget that they were soldiers, and to imagine themselves on some holiday excursion. Arriving off Fortress Monroe at four A. M. of the second day out, we awaited orders from General Dix, which being received we proceeded to Newport News and disembarked. We had at last got beyond Virginia mud, though still in Virginia, the soil at this place being light and sandy, and the ground for miles almost as level as Dexter Training Ground.

The schooner Elizabeth and Helen from Providence, which we had long been expecting, arrived about the same time. She brought a little more than three hundred boxes from friends at home for our regiment, and our portion of the cargo of vegetables was about ninety barrels. So that, altogether, we had a "right smart heap" of the good things from home. The contents of the boxes being largely of a very perishable nature, were considerably damaged on account of having been so long on the journey. But we made the best of it, and enjoyed the unpacking of those boxes quite as much, without doubt, as our friends at home did the packing. Nothing could have been more beneficial to us than the generous supply of vegetables which we received, having subsisted mainly on salt meats and hard-tack while at Fredericksburg.

"A" tents were here issued to the companies; everything was cheerful and tidy about the camp, and we seemed to be living in a new world. My duties called me to Fortress Monroe nearly every day, which gave me a delightful little sail, together with charming scenery and plenty of work. The scene of the exciting and unequal contest between the Merrimac and the Cumberland, in Hampton Roads in March, 1862, was immediately in front of us; and about a mile from the shore, in the direction of Norfolk, could be seen a portion of the masts of the latter, emerging from the water.

After a stay of precisely six weeks at Newport News, during which time nothing of very great importance transpired in the Ninth Army Corps, all of which were encamped at this delightful place, the Second Brigade, of which the Twelfth was a part, was ordered to the far-off city of Lexington, Kentucky. Our regiment at once embarked on the steamer Long Island for Baltimore, whence we were to go by rail to the West. Some of the scenes on board that steamer at night were ludicrous in the extreme. I have heard of one's "hair standing seven ways for Sunday," of things being "at sixes and sevens," and "all heads and points," but I must aver that the packing of the men on that boat exceeded anything I had ever seen in the way of mixing up human beings. They bestowed themselves in every conceivable position. It was almost an impossibility to go three steps without causing some one to cry out, "Keep off from me!" or, "O, my fingers!" an oath generally preceding the expression, just for the sake of making it emphatic. The head of a soldier might frequently be seen mixed in with the feet of two or three of his immediate neighbors. And in one case I discovered two men lying directly under one of the horses, fast asleep. I soon ascertained, however, that they had been imbibing too freely of poor whiskey, and that therefore there was probably little immediate danger from their situation.

A sail of sixteen hours brought us to Baltimore, and a ride of three hundred and forty miles over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad took us to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where we arrived at twelve o'clock on Saturday night, March twenty-eighth, tired and hungry. To our great joy we were immediately invited into the large and beautifully decorated hall occupied by the Soldiers' Relief Society, where we found a splendid supper awaiting us. There were twelve tables, each running the entire length of the hall, each arranged to accommodate one hundred men, and all richly laden with an abundance of delicious food and fruit. Compliments were few and exceedingly brief, but the rattle of crockery and knives and forks was long and continuous. The Seventh Rhode Island was in the hall at the same time, and you may be assured that Little Rhody showed an unbroken front here, as she had already done under more trying circumstances elsewhere. Suspended from the front of the platform was the following in large letters: "PITTSBURGH WELCOMES HER COUNTRY'S DEFENDERS;" while underneath this was "ROANOKE, NEWBERN, FREDERICKSBURG, BURNSIDE, and the NINTH ARMY CORPS."

After the sumptuous repast was ended, Colonel Browne stepped upon the platform, and in a few appropriate and feeling remarks returned his thanks to the citizens of Pittsburgh for their hospitality to the soldiers of Rhode Island, and closed by proposing three cheers for our benefactors, which were given with a roar that seemed almost to raise the roof. We then marched out to make room for others that were waiting, the remainder of our brigade being near by. One of the waiters, who, I was informed, was the daughter of one of the first citizens of the city, told me that this hall had not been closed night or day for more than a week, and that every soldier who had passed through the city for a long time had partaken of their bounty if he chose to do so. Nearly five thousand had been fed during the past twelve hours, and still there was an abundance.

At ten A. M. we took the cars for Cincinnati, which we reached after a pleasant ride of about four hundred miles through the most delightful section of country we had yet seen. We almost imagined ourselves making one of "Perham's Grand Excursions to the West." Everywhere along the route we met with tokens of welcome and encouragement. White handkerchiefs fluttered from ten thousand fair hands, while the stars and stripes were displayed "from cottage, hall and tower," in great profusion. At Steubenville, Ohio, I should judge the inhabitants were nearly all at the depot on our arrival, where they greeted us with cheer upon cheer, besides innumerable expressions of loyalty and good will. Five long trains of cars, containing the five regiments of our brigade, kept within a short distance of each other during this entire journey, and when the forward train stopped, the others would come up within a few rods of each other, thus constituting an almost unbroken train for about two miles. The impromptu foraging parties that emerged from each of those trains whenever they came to a brief halt, it is unnecessary to describe to veterans.

The brigade received a perfect ovation at Cincinnati. The streets were crowded with the enthusiastic populace, many buildings were brilliantly illuminated, and the entire conduct of the people proved most conclusively that the Union sentiment here was dominant. While passing along one of the streets our regiment was treated to a perfect shower of nice white handkerchiefs, which were thrown from the windows of a large brick block by a company of ladies. Each of these souvenirs was delicately perfumed and bore the name of the fair donor. We were also treated to another supper here, which, had we not fared so very sumptuously at Pittsburgh, would have been pronounced the _ne plus ultra_ of feasts. After eating till we could eat no more, a fresh supply was brought on with which to fill our empty haversacks for the remainder of the journey.

I was busily occupied all night, in company with a squad of men, in transferring the baggage across the river to Covington in ferry-boats, and loading it on board the train which was to convey us to Lexington, which city we reached the following day, having been six days on the journey from Newport News. We encamped on the State Fair Grounds, west of the city, a spacious and charming location, adorned with elegant shade trees, and surrounded with the stately suburban residences of some of the chivalry of Kentucky. You may perhaps infer that we were somewhat influenced by our aristocratic surroundings when I inform you that while here, our fire-wood consisted mainly of black-walnut, the ordinary fence-rails in that vicinity being composed of that material.

The Sunday following our arrival here, the regiment was visited and briefly addressed by the venerable General Leslie Coombs, of Kentucky, that staunch and life-long enemy of secession, who was a friend and old acquaintance of Colonel Browne. His tall and manly form, his long, flowing white hair, and his stately bearing, together with his stirring and patriotic remarks in favor of the preservation of the Union and the vigorous prosecution of the war, made an impression upon my mind that I shall never forget.

After a week's sojourn here, our brigade turned its face southward and commenced what subsequently proved to be a long series of marches back and forth across the State, protecting exposed points and preparing for a probable meeting with the rebels either under General Breckenridge or General Morgan, who were constantly menacing the southern borders of the State. And besides, the mountainous districts thereof were infested with marauding bands, mainly under the general direction of Morgan, who were carrying on a guerrilla warfare both against the Unionists of the State, who constituted a majority of all the people, and also against the Union forces stationed there, thus keeping the citizens in a constant state of anxiety and trepidation. The pillaging and murdering of the peaceable and inoffensive citizens of that would-be loyal State by these organized bands of ruffians, constitute to my mind one of the darkest pictures of our civil war.

Twenty-two miles over a macadamized road, through the celebrated "Blue Grass" region, brought us to Winchester, a pleasant inland village in Clarke county, where we were allowed to remain for the full period of eight days. Our next stopping place was at Richmond, a very inviting post-village of about fifteen hundred inhabitants in Madison county, twenty miles south of Winchester. This march, which occupied two days, took us through some of the most picturesque natural scenery to be found in the State, including Boonesboro, the scene of Daniel Boone's famous exploits with the Indians, at which place the entire brigade crossed the Kentucky river in a common scow which would hold only fifty men at a time. This delayed us for at least half a day, so that we had a good view of the wild surroundings.

I must here relate a personal incident. After arriving at Richmond, I was sent back to Winchester to bring forward some stores and supplies which had been necessarily left there. Our teams had not arrived from Covington, and I was detained for three days awaiting their appearance. I was stopping at the house of one Mr. Bush, a well-to-do planter, whose acquaintance I had made while the regiment was encamped there. On the third night of my stay with him I was suddenly aroused from a sound sleep at one o'clock by two soldiers who had entered my room, and who immediately confronted me, one with a drawn sword, and the other with a revolver, which he held in one hand, and a lighted candle in the other. They said nothing, except to caution me that any attempt to move from my present position would be at the peril of my life. One of them commenced to search my clothes, while the other stood guard over me, holding his glistering revolver uncomfortably near my head. I thought my hour had probably come, taking it for granted that the men were rebel soldiers and had taken advantage of my isolated situation to first rob and then dispatch me. But I finally mustered courage enough to ask them their business as politely as I knew how, and was promptly informed, greatly to my surprise, that I was a rebel spy and their prisoner and that they were Union soldiers sent there to arrest me. I at once felt relieved, knowing that I could readily establish my identity, and furthermore that I was tolerably safe anyway in the hands of Union soldiers. Mr. Bush, who had followed them into the room in his night-clothes, immediately assured them that I was not a rebel spy, or even a rebel, but a member of the Twelfth Rhode Island Volunteers, and manifested considerable indignation that he should even be suspected of harboring rebel spies. Some papers and letters in my pockets supported the testimony of my host, and after considerable time spent in examining them, my brave (?) captors concluded that I was not the man they were looking for, and left me without so much as an apology for their mistake, to ponder upon my deceitful appearance. I learned the next day that two rebel spies had in fact been prowling about the neighborhood for several days, and that these officers (for such they were) had been searching for them.

A week at Richmond, three days at Paint Lick Creek, a tributary of the Cumberland, a week at Lancaster, and on we go, still southward, till we reach Crab Orchard, a Kentucky watering place of considerable note, where we remained for ten days. It was not every brigade that was allowed to spend this length of time at a fashionable southern watering place during the sultry days of June, at the expense of the Government.

Instead of proceeding still further southward, as had been expected, we were here suddenly ordered to execute a "right about face," and retrace our steps to Nicholasville, a point twelve miles south of Lexington, where it was understood we were to take the cars en route for the far-off city of Vicksburg, where we were to assist General Grant in the siege against that rebel stronghold. This was not encouraging news to soldiers whose term of enlistment would expire in a little more than thirty days. Back we went, however, through the dust and heat, making the distance in two long days, the boys frequently rallying each other on the march with the remarks: "It's all in the nine months, boys;" and, "Why did you come for a soldier?"

Just as we got in sight of Nicholasville another surprise awaited us. One of the General's aids came dashing up to Colonel Browne with orders detaching his regiment from the brigade and directing him to report to General Carter at Somerset, more than seventy miles away, without delay. Half of this distance lay directly back over the route we had just travelled. This was, indeed, provoking. But we were soldiers, and had learned that our first and principal duty was prompt and unquestioning obedience to orders. So we bade good-bye to the other regiments of our brigade by giving three hearty cheers for each as they marched past us on their long journey to the West, and immediately turned our faces southward again and started for Somerset.

It then being nearly sunset, we bivouacked for the night as soon as we came to a convenient place, and resumed our backward march at daylight the next morning. The First Tennessee Battery and a regiment of mounted infantry soon joined us, and in company with them we reached Somerset, having gone by the way of Camp Dick Robinson and Hall's Gap, after a four days' march. In six successive days we had marched one hundred miles. And what was somewhat remarkable, we went into camp at the end of this time with not a man left behind.

After a stay of ten days at Somerset, during which time our base of supplies was at Stanford, thirty-three miles away, and could only be reached by our mule teams, we moved down to the Cumberland river, where we encamped on a high and precipitous bluff overlooking the river and the rugged mountainous scenery for a long distance. A brief rest and on, on we went again, bivouacking for a night on the battle-field of Mill Springs, where General Zollicoffer met his fate; climbing the mountains with our heavily laden mule teams, building bridges, constructing roads, and making but slow progress over the roughest country that I ever saw. Several of my teams were capsized and rolled down a steep embankment, mules, drivers and all; others got mired in swamps, and it was with the greatest difficulty that they were ever extricated; but we pulled ourselves along in one way and another over a distance of thirty miles of this sort of country, and finally reached Jamestown (popularly known as "Jimtown"), on the southern border of Kentucky, on the twenty-third day of June, which place proved to be the end of our journey southward.

The Thirty-second Kentucky infantry, called the "thirty two-sters," Colonel Wolford's famous cavalry regiment, six hundred strong,--the most dare-devil set of fellows, probably, in the Union service,--together with two mounted regiments of infantry, here reported to Colonel Browne and were temporarily placed under his command, and everything made ready for a brush with the rebels, which was daily expected, General Morgan being reported just in front of us with a large force. On the twenty-ninth of June our pickets were suddenly attacked and driven in by the enemy, causing the greatest excitement in camp. The long roll was instantly sounded; the men rushed to their companies with all possible speed; the regiment was formed in line of battle at a double-quick by Lieutenant Colonel Shaw, and all was ready for the fray. Company A, Captain Alexander, and Company C, Captain Allen, had been previously stationed about half a mile in front, on a road leading south towards the Cumberland river, where they had felled trees and erected a sort of rude barricade called Fort Alexander, in honor of the captain in command, which position they continued to hold.

The battery took a position on the Columbus road, on which the enemy was approaching; the other regiments were just in the rear, while Wolford's cavalry went forward on a keen run, their famous commander being at least a hundred yards in front of his men when he passed our regiment, presenting, in connection with his headlong followers, a scene of the wildest excitement. He speedily came in contact with the enemy,--whose particular object at this time was the capture of our battery,--drove them back without bringing on a general engagement, captured a score or more of prisoners, and so thoroughly routed and scattered the enemy by his bold and vigorous dash, that they made no further attempt to dispute the possession of this antiquated town with our forces until the morning of the fourth of July following.

Our quartermaster's train, however, was attacked two days later, on its way from Green river, whither it had been for supplies, by a guerrilla band of about fifty men; but as the train was guarded by a company of mounted infantry from the Seventh Ohio, the attack was repulsed after a vigorous contest, with some loss on both sides, and our provisions and quartermaster arrived in camp unharmed the next day, to the great joy of the regiment, who were nearly out of supplies.

On the third of July a battle was fought near Lebanon, which was a short distance to the north of us, between a portion of General Carter's forces and those under General Morgan, in which quite a number were killed and several wounded.

We commenced the celebration of the glorious Fourth by forming in line of battle with alacrity at half-past three A. M., our pickets having been again driven in, and the rebels seeming determined to have a bout with us before we left Kentucky. And I think our men would as soon have fought as not on this occasion, being tired of the constant annoyance, and ready to prove to Kentucky bushwhackers what kind of stuff they were made of. But, fortunately for both sides doubtless, the rebels remained outside of "Jimtown," and our forces remained inside, resting on their arms all day, and momentarily expecting an attack, which, however, was not made. And on the fifth of July, General Carter, deciding doubtless that this part of the State was not worth fighting for any longer, abandoned it to the enemy and moved his forces northward; first to Somerset, and then to Stanford, our base of supplies, which he continued to hold. Somerset was again reached after three days of the most difficult marching we had ever experienced, a heavy rain storm being in progress most of the time, rendering the movement of the artillery and heavy-laden army wagons well nigh impossible. With ten mules on one team, and two industrious swearers to drive them, I was only able to make a distance of two rods through the mire in the space of one whole hour, on one occasion during the first day of this march, which, by the way, was on Sunday.

Of course the army could move no faster than the wagon train on this march, as the rebels were immediately in our rear, ready to pounce upon us if a good opportunity was offered.

Eight days of continuous marching, most of the time over the same route we had travelled twice, and some of it three times before, and we were again at Nicholasville, where our regiment took the cars for Cincinnati by the way of Lexington. Our term of service had expired, but at the request of our greatly beloved General Burnside, we remained at Cincinnati for a week to assist in protecting that much frightened city from the raids of the somewhat ubiquitous General Morgan, who had preceded us from "Jimtown" to that more populous and inviting community. Another journey of a thousand miles--not, however, on foot--and the Twelfth Regiment was again at home.

MEMORIAL OF GEORGE H. BROWNE,

[Late Colonel of the Twelfth Regiment.]

Colonel George H. Browne departed this life at Providence on the twenty-seventh day of September, A. D. 1885, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, sincerely lamented by all who knew him. He was a Rhode Islander by birth and education; thoroughly imbued with the history and traditions of the State, and always identified himself with its best interests. Conservative, candid and outspoken, and an excellent judge of human nature, he was not easily deceived or led to do an unwise or even an injudicious act. To say that he was a wise, prudent and thoroughly conscientious man, is but to voice the common sentiment of all those who knew him.

Since September of 1862, I have known Colonel Browne well, and been honored by his constant friendship. During the period of his service in the army, my duties brought me in almost daily contact with him; I was one of his mess during our Kentucky campaign, and had the opportunity to study his character and habits with deliberation; while since the war I have known him in the walks of private, professional and political life. And for stalwart manliness, transparent honesty and true nobility of character, I can unhesitatingly say that I have not known his superior.