PART XI.

HARRISON'S LANDING TO FREDERICKSBURG, VA.--1862-1863.

The part of the camp at Harrison's Landing occupied by our brigade was, I think, the most unhealthy spot in which I had ever camped. The weather had become intensely hot and water fit to drink was difficult to obtain from a poor spring, at which crowds stood in line waiting for a chance to fill their canteens. The water of the boggy creek was soon contaminated and the sinking of barrels and cracker boxes at its edge had but little effect in purifying it. Nearly a third of our men were soon sick with miasma and swamp fever; the hospitals were over-crowded and the mortality high. Every morning and evening we heard the dead march.

Our second day in this camp was the Fourth of July, and General McClellan caused a salute to be fired at noon at each army corps headquarters. In the afternoon he reviewed us and his address to the Army of the Potomac was read to us on parade. A few days later President Lincoln visited the camp and held a review in the cool of the evening. He was enthusiastically cheered.

About this time I became very ill and had to report to the regimental surgeon, who wanted to send me to the hospital; but I did not want to go there among so many sick and dying men and remained for a few days in my tent, over which we had built an arbor, which was of little use, however, as the camp was exposed to the torrid sun. I became very weak. A kind comrade assisted me from camp to the creek, about a hundred yards away, where he spread my blanket and I lay there under the shade of a tree all day, until he helped me back to camp at night. It was better than remaining in the little shelter tent; but I was so miserable that I cared very little whether I lived or died.

The sick and wounded of the volunteers had a "sanitary commission," supported by the various states, which furnished nurses, supplies and delicacies that the army could not provide. The regulars, when in their own hospitals, received no such attention; they had to get along on soldiers' rations, if they could eat them. At this camp we had company cooks. My comrade brought me rice soup from our kitchen, and on that and some soft crackers and condensed milk, bought at the sutler's, I managed to keep alive. In about ten days I began to improve, but was greatly emaciated, and it was well towards the end of July before I could take my place in the ranks again.

One of our first lieutenants and two second lieutenants, all civilian appointees, who had not shown themselves at any of the recent battles the regiment had been engaged in, turned up at Harrison's Landing and were promptly arrested. They were tried by court-martial and cashiered on July twenty-first, 1862. I believe two of them succeeded in getting back into the army early in 1863, and one--the first lieutenant--redeemed himself by being killed at Gettysburg. I shall not mention the names of these valiant officers; they are recorded in the official Army Register of 1862-'63.

We had been in camp about a week when we were surprised by the reappearance of the captain of our company, whom we had left in Georgetown four months before with a medical excuse from field duty. He was more corpulent and his face was more florid than ever. He brought with him some cases, containing a variety of liquors, which he charged his servant to guard very carefully when he was absent from his tent--which was seldom, as he performed no duties. Few of our officers paid any attention to him or visited him in his tent, with the exception of the three lieutenants under arrest; they were his chums and boon companions from morning till night. My tent was within ear-shot of the captain's and when I lay there while sick or convalescent I could not help hearing their loud talk while they were carousing--a daily occurrence. They fought the seven days' battles all over again, the captain bewailing the ill health which had kept him from the active service which he so ardently desired. Had he been in charge of the brigade he would have formed an oblique square and in that form he would have charged upon the enemy at a double-quick. He demonstrated to the entire satisfaction of his auditors that the impact of the sharp corner of the oblique square could not have failed to break the enemy's center, while the two sides of the square would have brushed away their right and left wings and caused them to be annihilated by our fire. He admitted that such a bold movement could be successfully executed only with reliable troops like the regulars, if led by an officer who was a tactician able to conceive such a daring attack. At times the officers under arrest became maudlin and with tearful voices lamented their hard luck in being under arrest, when the captain would cheer them by saying, "Gentlemen, I know you are all brave men; trust in me, I will see you vindicated! What will you take now?"

This went on until the three officers were cashiered and left camp.

One night soon after the Rebels shelled the camp at Harrison's Landing and there were rumors of another advance on Richmond. The captain hastily departed with bag and baggage, leaving only the empty cases behind. This time we were rid of him for good; he was retired for disability(!) August twenty-seventh, 1862, and we never saw him again. John S. Poland now became captain of my company. He had been graduated from the West Point Military Academy and was a very efficient officer. The departure of our captain, the dismissal of the three lieutenants, a few transfers and some promotions from the ranks, left us with a better lot of officers--men whom the rank and file could respect.

We were much in need of clothing, particularly shoes, and these were issued to us while at Harrison's Landing; also the medical department ordered whiskey and quinine occasionally as a prevention against malarial fever, as had been done while we were on the Chickahominy. Most of the soldiers would have preferred to take this dose unmixed, dispensing with the quinine.

We had regular drum and bugle calls and bands played in the evening at this camp. Promotions took place among the soldiers--I was made a sergeant, the youngest sergeant in the regiment at that time.

Shortly after midnight on August first a heavy fire from field pieces on the south side of the James, which quickly aroused the entire army, was opened on our camps and the many vessels in the river. Our batteries at the river opened fire; so did the gun-boats. For more than half an hour there was a tremendous noise of guns and exploding shells, when the Rebel batteries suddenly ceased firing. None of the shells reached us, but ten men were killed and fifteen wounded in the camps nearer the river; the shipping received only trifling damage.

Next day troops were sent across the river, my regiment among them. We crossed on a steamboat, near noon; deployed as skirmishers on the other side; advanced up a hill through some woods and came upon a meadow where the Rebel guns had been placed, commanding our camp and the river, but screened by the woods. It was possible to locate the guns and count them. There were forty-one of them. Some artillery ammunition was scattered about and we noticed large holes in the ground near-by, made by shells from our gunboats.

The day was very hot. We lay in the shade of the woods and I was taking a nap when I was awakened and ordered to take six men and examine a piece of wood land on our right, for half a mile or more, and then return and report. I started with my little squad at a "trail arms," the guns at half-cock. There was much underbrush and we advanced cautiously for nearly half a mile, when I heard a noise and thought I caught a glimpse of a man in a gray uniform, trying to hide behind a tree only a short distance away. I made a sign to my squad to halt and advancing a little nearer brought the gun to my shoulder at full cock, when I challenged and was immediately answered, "Friend of the Sixth Infantry!" as the man stepped from behind the tree. He was dressed in a gray woolen shirt, having left off his blue blouse on account of the heat. I frightened him when I explained how near he had come to being shot on account of his gray shirt. He belonged to another party examining the woods from a different direction. I made my way back to my command, diverging somewhat from the way we had come. In a clearing we found six fine cows grazing which we drove towards our party. They were kept and turned over to the commissary later on. We noticed some Rebel cavalry on high ground a mile or more away watching us, but they did not venture any nearer.

The place where we had landed was called Coggin's Point. We were on part of a large plantation, the property of a prominent secessionist. There was a large house within view, called the Cole house, which was ordered to be destroyed and was set fire to by another detachment. We re-crossed the river about sundown and returned to our camp. General McClellan ordered Coggin's Point to be occupied and field works constructed to prevent a recurrence of a bombardment from the south side of the James.

About August fourth General Hooker made a strong reconnoissance in the direction of Richmond and drove a Rebel force from Malvern Hill. There were rumors of a campaign and the authorities at Washington and the Northern journals united in urging General McClellan to become active. The sick and wounded, more than ten thousand of them, were being shipped North as fast as water transportation could be provided for them, and we supposed that another attempt to capture Richmond would be made. We were disagreeably surprised when we learned later that we were to reinforce General Pope north of the Rappahannock river, whom "Stonewall" Jackson had hopelessly bewildered by his rapid movements.

The commands of Generals Freemont and Banks had been withdrawn from the Shenandoah Valley when "Stonewall" Jackson gave them the slip in June and by forced marches reached Richmond to take part in the seven days' battles. These two commands were consolidated with that of General McDowell to form the Army of Virginia, which was to operate between Washington and Richmond for the protection of the capitol. General Halleck called General John Pope from the West, with the approval of the President, to take command of the Army of Virginia, although he was out-ranked by both McDowell and Freemont. General Freemont, unwilling to serve under Pope, promptly resigned his command. When General Pope took command he addressed a proclamation to the Army of Virginia in which he expressed his contempt for certain phrases he found much in vogue, such as "bases of supplies" and "lines of retreat"--phrases which he enjoined his army to discard, as unworthy of soldiers destined to follow the leadership of one "who came from the West and had never seen anything but the backs of his enemies."

This bombastic and arrogant nonsense was a satire pointed at General McClellan. Alas for Pope! Less than two months after he took command the enemy saw his back and his heels as well. He was shelved to the command of an unimportant department in the West and cut no further figure in the war. The Northern papers made much of him and his proclamation, but the soldiers had a clearer insight into his character and ability as the commander of a great army. He became known among them by the sobriquet of "Headquarters in the Saddle."

The Fifth Army Corps was the First to leave Harrison's Landing. On the afternoon of the fourteenth of August Sykes's division received orders to strike their tents and prepare to march to Newport News, Virginia. We left our camp about six o'clock in the evening and marched all night, resting only about two hours at midnight. Some time during the forenoon of the next day we reached the Chickahominy, and crossing it by a pontoon bridge about a thousand feet long, went into bivouac. The following morning we started again at daybreak, and passing through Williamsburg and Yorktown, we reached Newport News on the fourth day, the eighteenth, remaining there for two days awaiting transportation. There we had salt water bathing in the James river, which was very refreshing after the hot and dusty march. We were hurried along and made rather long marches. I had not recovered my full strength after my illness at Harrison's Landing, but I managed to keep up by lightening my burden. I threw away my knapsack and part of my clothing, made a roll of the blanket and shelter tent, wrapping up in it a change of underclothing and socks, and slung the roll over my shoulder. I put on my newest shoes and threw the others away. All this made marching easier for me. Many of my comrades did the same.

On August twentieth we embarked on a steamboat along with other troops for Aquia Creek on the Potomac and had the usual overcrowded and uncomfortable experience. We arrived on the twenty-second and were a long time getting ashore by tugs. There was a railroad to Fredericksburg, less than twenty miles away, and we were tumbled into empty freight cars and upon platform cars and taken to Falmouth Station, near Fredericksburg, where we disembarked in the evening and bivouacked.

Next day, after receiving some rations, we started our march up the north bank of the Rappahannock in the direction of Pope's army. The other corps of the Army of the Potomac went up the Potomac river as far as Alexandria, which gave them only half so long a march to join Pope, as the Fifth Corps had had from Falmouth. General McClellan accompanied the main part of the Army to Alexandria.

Our march up the Rappahannock and along the line of the Orange and Alexandria railroad by the way of Bealton, Catlett's and Bristoe Stations to Manassas was a severe one. The heat was so excessive that a man in my company declared "the sun must be in the hydraulics!" Parts of the country seemed to be destitute of water, which caused us great suffering, and many were overcome and dropped by the wayside. We did not have the muddy roads of the Peninsula, but we had an intolerable amount of dust which hung in great clouds over the marching columns and betrayed the movements of the opposing armies. As we neared Bristoe Station, where a stretch of the railroad had been torn up by the Rebels, we began to hear cannonading.

On the morning of the twenty-ninth we started at daybreak for Centreville, passing Manassas Junction, where we saw the ruins of locomotives, cars and immense quantities of rations and military stores totally destroyed by fire a few days before when Jackson's army had slipped around the bewildered General Pope's right and got in his rear, between him and Washington.

We had only just passed Manassas when we were ordered to face about and march in the direction from which we had come on the Warrenton Pike towards Gainsville. Before reaching there some of Longstreet's troops were encountered about noon, concealed in the woods near the Manassas railroad. We took up a position near Bethlehem Church, massed in the rear of the First Division as a reserve. Later in the afternoon very heavy firing was heard some miles away to our right, where the battle of Groveton was being fought. We had a strong force of skirmishers out; so did the enemy. There was much firing between them until dark and some movements as though we were forming for an attack, with the object of preventing Longstreet from sending reinforcements to Jackson at Groveton, but nothing came of it and we remained in our position until daybreak, August thirtieth. The last issue of rations had been, I think, at Warrenton Junction; we were nearly out, in fact had lived on half-rations for the last day. During this night we received a small allowance of hard-tack and nothing else.

On the morning of the thirtieth we marched by way of the Warrenton Pike in the direction of yesterday's battle and took up a position about noon near the center in a cornfield not far from the Pike, my brigade forming the reserve in rear of the First Brigade. We were soon under a heavy fire of shells from the Rebel batteries which kept up with more or less vigor until the middle of the afternoon, when the real battle commenced with General Butterfield's attack on the enemy, strongly posted in a railroad cut towards the right. Historians have described this bloody battle and how, about sundown, our army was out-flanked and forced to retreat. It was about this time that Sykes's regulars were ordered to retreat and did so in good order towards the Henry house plateau, which commanded the road by which the army was retreating in some disorder, towards the stone bridge over Bull Run. Sykes's regulars assisted by some volunteer regiments checked Longstreet's pursuit.

Here for the first time on that day my brigade became engaged with the enemy at the edge of some timber through which they were advancing. For nearly an hour we held our ground, delivering heavy volleys until we were out-flanked, forced to retire, and the fight continued by other troops.

General Warren's Third Brigade, consisting of the Fifth and Tenth New York, about one thousand strong, had earlier in the evening, in an isolated position, sustained the first onslaught of overwhelming numbers of Longstreet's troops. In less than fifteen minutes this small brigade sustained a loss of more than four hundred killed and wounded, the Duryee Zouaves alone losing two hundred and ninety-seven men, a greater loss than that of any other regiment in this battle. During the two days my small regiment lost sixty-six killed and wounded and, singular to relate, only one officer and one private were killed outright; seven others, however, were missing and we did not know what had become of them. The first sergeant of my company, Rudolph Thieme, was among the missing, but no one had seen him fall. A small detail from my regiment, which under a flag of truce recovered Lieutenant Kidd's body, failed to find that of the sergeant, who was an old soldier and expected soon to be commissioned. The mystery of his disappearance was never solved.

When darkness came upon us and the firing ceased, except for a few shots here and there, the second battle of Bull Run was over. We marched by way of the Pike to the Stone Bridge, where we found an indescribable scene of confusion. Ambulances, artillery, army wagons, sutlers, wounded soldiers and stragglers were all crowding towards the narrow bridge, colliding with organized bodies of marching troops and destroying their formation. Slowly and with great difficulty we crossed and re-formed on the other side, taking up our march to Centreville and keeping off the road as much as possible to avoid the confusion there. To add to our misery a steady rain had commenced after dark and kept up all night. The retreat continued until daylight, when the bridge was blown up. We reached Centreville about midnight when, tired and exhausted, we lay on the wet ground and slept until morning.

Able writers and critics have pointed out the monumental blunders of General Pope which nearly caused the destruction of his army, and the advantageous opportunities he failed to grasp, particularly where Lee divided his army by sending Jackson to Manassas in his rear. They also show his vindictiveness towards the meritorious General Porter, who was cashiered after the Antietam campaign, but established his innocence after a struggle which lasted for many years and was restored to the army.

During the active part of this campaign General McClellan was detained, by order of General Halleck, at Alexandria and ordered to forward his troops as fast as they arrived from Harrison's Landing to join Pope's army. This he did and they had all joined us in time to take part in the battles of Groveton and the second Bull Run, except Franklin's and Sumner's corps, who were still on the march. General McClellan then found himself in the singular position of a commanding general stripped of his army, with nothing but a few orderlies and small camp guard. General Pope had sent a very favorably colored report of the second Battle of Bull Run to General Halleck; but the next day Colonel J. C. Kelton, A.A.G., was sent from the War Department to Pope's army, and upon his return on September second reported the true condition of affairs, which alarmed the President and Cabinet and terrified the city of Washington. Pope's army was ordered to retreat immediately within the fortifications of Washington for the protection of the city. The administration now turned toward McClellan again and placed him in command of the defenses of Washington and the troops of Pope's defeated army as they arrived within the fortifications.

The morning after the battle, August thirty-first, during a cold rain, we were marched within the old Confederate works at Centreville and encamped there. The day was quiet, but toward night there was a rumor that a part of the Rebel army was on the move to turn our right and intersperse between us and Washington. Next morning two army corps were ordered to march in the direction of Chantilly, where that afternoon a severe battle was fought which resulted in a victory for the Union arms. Among our losses was the daring one-armed General Kearney, one of the bravest officers in our army.

It was a race now to see which army would get to Washington first. We could hear the firing at Chantilly and, while it was still going on the Fifth Corps received orders to proceed to Fairfax Court House in a hurry. After a weary night-march we arrived there on the morning of September second and went into bivouac. The following morning we resumed our march, taking the road towards Washington. The enemy was close on our flank and there was some skirmishing just after leaving Fairfax Court House. Late in the afternoon we saw the dome of the Capitol and kept on, weary with the long march, until after dark, when during a halt, we heard loud cheering in front. Soon word was passed along that General McClellan had come out to meet us, and the cheering was taken up by the entire corps. The General had only a very small escort of soldiers and one officer with him, but his presence cheered us and revived our depressed spirits. We felt that Washington was safe.

The Fifth Corps encamped for several days on Hall's Hill. While at this camp the skeleton battalions of the Second and Tenth United States Infantry were consolidated under the command of Captain Poland of the Second Infantry, the ranking officer, and henceforth we were designated as the Battalion of the Second and Tenth Infantry; company formations were not interfered with.

With the arrival of the army within the defenses of Washington the enemy disappeared and on the fifth of September were reported to be crossing the Potomac into Maryland. The cavalry of the Army of the Potomac was promptly started on the march and quickly followed by the artillery and infantry. The Fifth Corps left on the evening of the sixth and crossed the Potomac on the Chain Bridge, then marched by way of Tennalytown, Rockville and Monocacy to Frederick City, where we arrived the twelfth of September. The roads were good, but very dusty; the country was well cultivated and we got some fruit and plenty of green corn on the way, roasting the ears at our camp-fires.

Next day our march was across the mountains to the Middletown Valley, where we encamped near the foot of South Mountain. We could hear the guns at Harper's Ferry, which was besieged by Stonewall Jackson. On the afternoon and evening of the fourteenth General Reno had a battle at Turner's Pass on South Mountain, part of which was visible from our camps. The Rebels were driven from the mountain and retreated toward Sharpsburg during the night. General Reno was killed near the close of this action.

On the morning of the fifteenth we crossed the Blue Ridge by the road across South Mountain leading to Sharpsburg, passing a part of the battlefield, where we saw a number of dead Confederates beside the road and in the fields where they had fallen the evening before. In descending the western slope of the South Mountain we had some fine views of the valley of the Antietam, the great fields of grain, orchards and farm-houses--a beautiful picture of peace and plenty, soon to be destroyed by the horrors of war. Our march was toward the Central Bridge over the Antietam on the pike leading to Sharpsburg, where we took up a position on the left of the road. The Rebels had batteries on the opposite side of the Antietam on high ground, which opened on us as soon as they saw us approaching; but they did us no damage and we were soon under cover where their fire was returned by two of our batteries.

The great Battle of Antietam, in which more than one hundred and fifty thousand men and some hundreds of pieces of artillery were engaged on the sixteenth and seventeenth days of September, is well described in histories and was decidedly a Union victory. General McClellan is severely criticized for allowing Lee and his army to escape across the Potomac on the night of the eighteenth, and General Burnside for dilly-dallying and delaying his attack on bridge number three, where he could not see his glorious opportunity.

Porter's Fifth Army Corps held an important position in the center of the line covering the reserve artillery and wagon-trains on the east bank of the Antietam. It was here, in the center, that General McClellan was most anxious that his line should not be broken, and he relied on General Porter for that. The Fifth Corps was not engaged as a body in this battle, but some brigades were detached from it at various times to reinforce other parts of the field. We were much exposed to the enemy's artillery fire and sharp-shooters at times. On the second day of the battle my battalion, the Second and Tenth, were ordered to cross the bridge about four P.M. to protect some light batteries on the opposite side of the Antietam. We deployed as skirmishers to the left of the road and while passing over a ridge were fired at by the Rebel sharp-shooters and by a battery with canister shot. We sustained considerable loss but kept on as far as a fence, where we halted and commenced a fire which soon caused the enemy's cannoneers to leave their guns; and although soon reinforced by a part of the First Brigade, we were not considered strong enough to charge and take this battery and were ordered by one of General Sykes's aides-de-camp to withdraw from our dangerous position to a place of cover, where we remained until sun-down and then re-crossed the bridge and returned to our former position. Our small battalion lost about fifty of its number, killed and wounded, in this engagement.

The day after the battle we remained quietly in our position. The Rebels, under flags of truce, were picking up their wounded and burying some of their dead, while squads from our army performed the same sad duties.

At daybreak on the morning of the nineteenth it was discovered that the enemy had departed during the night and the last of their rear guard was then crossing the Potomac at Shepherdstown ford. General Porter's Corps was ordered to the ford. On the way we passed through a part of the battlefield, which was still strewn with Rebel corpses. Most of them had turned so black that they looked almost like negroes and their heads and bodies had swollen to an enormous size. It was a horrible sight. We passed through the town of Sharpsburg and beyond that through some of the deserted Rebel camps, where fires were still burning and there was every evidence of hasty departure.

When we approached the ford there was much artillery firing from Rebel batteries posted on the hills on the other side of the Potomac, which was replied to by some of our batteries. Sharp-shooters were posted at the river-bank and canal, firing at the enemy opposite. Towards evening a regiment of the First Division and the sharp-shooters crossed the river by fording and found a lodgment on the other side, capturing a few guns.

Early on the morning of the twentieth our brigade and the Fifth New York of the Third Brigade were ordered to ford the river and make a reconnaissance on the Charlestown road. General Sykes himself accompanied the brigade. We deployed as skirmishers, advanced about a mile and halted in some woods, when it was discovered that a large force of the enemy was rapidly approaching with artillery. General Sykes ordered the brigade to fall back slowly to the bluffs on the river-bank. In the meantime Barnes's Brigade of the First Division of the Fifth Corps had also crossed the river to go to Shepherdstown, but General Sykes ordered them to take a position on the heights near where they had crossed, to our right, where their skirmishers soon became engaged with the approaching enemy and brought on a spirited engagement. General Sykes, who informed General Porter of the large force opposed to his two small brigades, was ordered immediately to recross all the troops. This we were enabled to do in good order by the aid of a number of our batteries, posted on the heights on the Maryland side. These batteries delivered a destructive fire over our heads which kept the enemy from the river-bank, or it would have gone hard with us while fording the river. Before night all our troops had recrossed the Potomac.

This engagement at Shepherdstown ended the Maryland campaign. The loss on our side was about five hundred and, with the exception of nineteen, was all in General Barnes's brigade. The loss in my battalion was one killed and two wounded. Later it was learned that the retreating foe had turned back nine brigades of infantry with artillery under Generals Early and Hill to oppose us at Shepherdstown. No doubt they over-estimated our numbers and thought we were an army corps instead of two weak brigades. We then realized what great peril we had been in.

A daring act was performed by First Sergeant Daniel W. Burke of Company B, as we re-crossed the Potomac. He voluntarily attempted to spike some abandoned Rebel guns near the shore under a withering fire from the enemy. He received a commission soon after and was retired in 1899 as a brigadier-general and medal-of-honor man.

The next day we established a permanent camp in some woods near Sharpsburg, where we remained for more than six weeks and received a detachment of recruits during our stay, which somewhat replenished our skeleton companies. Four companies of the Seventh Infantry also joined our brigade at this place. They were a part of the troops surrendered in Texas, who were paroled at the time and had since been exchanged.

A few days after we had settled down to our regular camp duties I was much surprised when the first sergeant of my company informed me that I had been detailed to report to Lieutenant Hawkins as brigade commissary sergeant. This was promotion to a post usually filled by an older and more experienced soldier. My comrades congratulated me and said I was in luck to get that position--one that was greatly desired. I was not much elated over it, however, and seriously considered whether I should not ask to be excused and remain with my company.

By this time the sergeant major and half a dozen of the first sergeants of the companies had received commissions as second lieutenants, and without exception they made good officers and gave the regiment a better character and standing than the inexperienced civilians that had been inflicted upon us at the beginning of the war, many of whom we had since got rid of. All of these sergeants were older than I and had been longer in the service; I had only just turned twenty-one and looked much younger. With the exceptions of our two musicians, I was the youngest soldier in the company, until some recruits joined us a while later. I had learned from the sergeant major that my name had been mentioned in the regimental report for good conduct in battle, along with those of some other non-commissioned officers.

I had spoken to a couple of our officers, who were most friendly to me, about applying for a commission, and was advised to wait until I should be first sergeant of a company. This seemed a long way off, as I was only the third sergeant of the company at the time. I realized that if I left the company on special duty, to act as brigade commissary sergeant, the man who remained in the ranks would get the preference in promotion, other reasons being equal. On the other hand the position offered many advantages and was less arduous than that of a company officer. No more marching--I would have a horse to ride; no more guard and picket duties; no more standing in ranks to be fired at for hours by the enemy. The worst that had befallen the army trains thus far had been guerrilla attacks and captures by the enemy. So far I had been so lucky as to escape without a scratch, but I had seen many of my comrades fall in battle while in the ranks, and it might be my turn in the very next engagement. I decided to hold the position and left my company to report to the acting commissary officer at brigade headquarters. There was no extra pay attached to the position. I was carried on the company's muster rolls as "absent on special duty."

First Lieutenant Hamilton S. Hawkins of the Sixth United States Infantry was acting as the brigade commissary and quartermaster. He was a West Point graduate and a gentleman--one of the finest officers I met in the service. He was very dignified, honorable and just, kind and pleasant with his inferiors in rank--one of Nature's noblemen. In after years he was called the "Sir Henry Havelock" of the American Army. In the Spanish War he was a major-general of volunteers and commanded the division that captured San Juan Hill. He retired in 1898 as a brigadier-general of the United States Army, and at his death (which occurred recently) he was the governor of the Soldiers' Home in Washington, D.C.

With Lieutenant Hawkins, as his chief assistant, was John W. Clous, quartermaster sergeant of the Sixth United States Infantry, who acted in the double capacity of brigade quartermaster and commissary sergeant. It was to relieve him of the duties of the latter that I was detailed. Sergeant Clous was a remarkable man and had a most honorable and successful career in the army. He was well educated--a student--he had served on the frontiers and was my senior by eight or ten years. He became a second lieutenant in December, 1862; and after the war he made a study of military law and became the professor of law, with the rank of lieutenant colonel, at the Military Academy at West Point. At the close of the Spanish War he was a brigadier-general and judge advocate of the commission which settled the affairs between the United States and Cuba. He retired as a brigadier-general in 1901 and died a few years ago. Much to my regret, I never had the opportunity of meeting either of these men after I left the army.

When I entered upon my new duties I found that I had much to learn, but I had a very capable instructor in Sergeant Clous. He was thoroughly familiar with all the rules and regulations of the commissary department and the many forms for accounts and reports which the admirable Government method of accounting for everything demanded. We had a wall tent which we used for an office when in a permanent camp, furnished with two small field desks and a folding table. When in camp Sergeant Clous and I slept in this tent; on the march we slept under the clear skies or in a wagon when it rained. Our little detachment included a clerk and three men to load and unload wagons and assist in issuing rations. One of these men was also the butcher who slaughtered the beef cattle when we had any, killing the cattle with a rifle and dressing the carcass. Another did the cooking for our mess and the third man took care of Sergeant Clous's horse and mine, besides his other duties. These men were all soldiers detailed for special duties, temporarily absent from their companies and, like myself, liable to be ordered back to duty in the ranks at any time. There was also a wagonmaster who was a civilian, as were also most of the teamsters; he had charge of our supply train under orders from the commissary officer. When in camp Lieutenant Hawkins, who had a private servant, generally stayed at brigade headquarters, but while at Sharpsburg he had his tent for a time in a grove along with the officers of his regiment. I remember that his mother visited him there and remained for some days. She was a very fine, motherly lady who adored her son.

While the army was at Sharpsburg all of its supplies had to be hauled from Hagerstown, Maryland, about twenty miles away, which was the nearest railroad depot. There was a good turn-pike road all the way from Sharpsburg, which passed through the recent battle-field, on which the Dunkard church was a conspicuous mark. It was one of my duties to draw supplies at Hagerstown once a week or oftener. I was provided with the necessary requisitions, signed by Lieutenant Hawkins and countersigned by the brigade commander, given charge of as many wagons as were required and accompanied by the wagonmaster. We generally made an early morning start so as to arrive in Hagerstown early in the afternoon, loading the wagons on the same day, then going into camp for the night, and returning to Sharpsburg the following day. This could not always be done, as the place was crowded with army wagons on the same business and it was a case of first come, first served. I always rode on ahead to get my requisition on file, and if we could not be attended to on that day, I rode back to meet my train and park them in some field on the outskirts of the town. It often took two days and a night to make the trip, sometimes more.

On one occasion, after the train had been parked, it became necessary for me to return to the town, and as my horse had cast a shoe, I had my saddle put on one of the teamster's riding mules. It was my first experience in riding a mule. I got along well enough for a short distance until I came to the ford of a small stream, where we were in the habit of watering our animals. I stopped to let the mule drink and then started to cross, but he was determined to go back to the train. I next tried to cross an adjoining bridge with the same result. I coaxed him, I dismounted and tried to lead him, I remounted and did all that could be done to a mule with a pair of spurs and strong language, much to the amusement of some soldier spectators, who advised me to build a fire under him. I could not make him go to Hagerstown, but he willingly went back to camp, to my discomfiture, and I had to borrow the wagonmaster's horse to make the trip.

We were paid while in the Sharpsburg camp and I was able to buy fresh bread and other things for our mess while in town. The bread tasted mighty good after being on hard-tack for six months. I also regaled myself a few times with a real dinner in a tavern at the extravagant price of twenty-five cents. Nearly all through October the weather was delightful and I enjoyed the trips to town immensely; the days were warm, but the nights began to be cool enough for camp-fires.

President Lincoln visited the army on the first of October and remained with General McClellan for several days. Near the middle of October General Stuart of the Confederate Army made a swift raid with two thousand cavalry-men and a battery of horse artillery into Pennsylvania and around the Army of the Potomac, as he had done on the Peninsula. He was almost unopposed, as our cavalry--never equal to that of the Confederates in number--was at this time broken down, scattered and so reduced in numbers by the late campaign that not a thousand serviceable horses could be mounted. After Stuart's raid the road to Hagerstown was patrolled by cavalry.

When not on the road I was kept busy in camp issuing rations and making up accounts. At this time the system was for the brigade commissary to issue rations to companies on the requisition of the officer commanding the company, approved by the commander of the regiment. Companies subdivided their rations among themselves. While in camp issues of rations were made about once a week, except fresh meat, which was issued on days when cattle was slaughtered.

Provisions for officers and their servants, according to regulations of the commissary department, could only be sold to them for cash and on their certificate that they were for their own use; for the Government sold commissary stores to officers at cost, less the cost of freight, but for their own use only. The rule of selling for cash only could not be enforced strictly in war times, but the commissary officer made himself liable for any credit he chose to extend. Sales to officers were made during fixed hours of the morning; money received and vouchers for same were turned over to the commissary officer daily. As commissary sergeant I soon found that I was really gaining the experience of a manager for a large grocery firm.

Issues of whiskey to troops, one gill per day, were only made on the order of the brigade commander in cases of excessive fatigue or severe exposure. Officers could purchase all they wanted, if they stated in their written orders to the commissary that it was for their own use and signed their names. Some good-natured officers who hardly drank at all, seemed to buy much whiskey, for they frequently gave one of their company sergeants an order which read something like this: "Let the bearer have one canteen full of whiskey for my use." Others more scrupulous omitted the words "for my use," knowing the order would not be filled in that case; but I suspect that in some cases the soldier added the necessary words to the order which he himself had written after the unsuspecting officer had signed it.

Sometimes stores became damaged or were received in a damaged condition, when a board of survey was appointed by the commanding officer to ascertain the amount of damage, for the commissary officer was virtually obliged to account for every cracker he received. There seemed to be no end to the many accounts we had to keep and reports to make out, but it was an instructive business experience for me.

On the sixth of October General McClellan received an order from Washington to cross the Potomac and give battle to the enemy or drive him South while the roads were good. At this time the army was in no condition to move for want of supplies which arrived very tardily, and it was not until the end of October, when bad weather had set in, that the first part of the troops re-crossed the Potomac. During all this time the authorities at Washington and the Northern papers were accusing McClellan of being dilatory and demanding his removal. The Fifth Army Corps left Sharpsburg on the thirtieth and crossed the Potomac next day at Harper's Ferry, while the train crossed on a pontoon bridge at Berlin, some distance further south. Riding a horse was a very agreeable change from marching in the ranks and carrying a heavy load. All I carried now on my person was a large Colt's revolver. To my McClellan saddle was strapped an overcoat and a canteen of water, while the saddle-bags held some cooked meat and crackers and a pipe and tobacco.

The roads were fairly good on the start until we neared the Blue Ridge Mountains. Being again in the enemy's country, the train had a guard of some infantry and a small detachment of cavalry. The chief quartermaster of the Fifth Army Corps was in charge of our train and directed its movements.

On November second we rejoined our brigade at the small town of Snickersville. That evening Sykes's division was ordered to occupy Snicker's Gap and make a reconnaissance to Snicker's Ferry on the Shenandoah. I was ordered to follow the troops with a couple of wagons and issue some rations to my brigade. The ascent to the top of the Gap where the troops rested for the night was steep and wearisome; the night was dark and cold, and when we arrived on the mountain-top, late, a strong wind was blowing. I snatched a little sleep in one of the wagons and issued the rations at daylight.

Part of the division descended the Gap towards the Shenandoah in the morning but did not cross, and during the day an artillery engagement occurred between some of the Rebels on the opposite side of the river and the Sixth and Fourteenth United States Infantry. After taking a long look at the beautiful and fertile valley of the Shenandoah at our feet I started back to our camp. On the way down the mountain we had a mishap; one of the teamsters struck a boulder and broke a wheel, which caused delay and we were obliged to cut down a small tree and rig up a drag to get the wagon back to the camp.

We remained in camp until Sykes's division was withdrawn from Snicker's Gap and resumed our march east of the Blue Ridge by way of White Plains and New Baltimore to Warrenton, where we arrived on the ninth of November. On our march to White Plains we had a wet snow nearly all day, which made the roads bad. At Warrenton we learned that General McClellan had been relieved from the command of the Army of the Potomac and Major General Ambrose E. Burnside placed in command. General McClellan's enemies in the Cabinet, together with Halleck, the bureaucratic general, had finally prevailed in their schemes to cause the President to relieve him. The following day, the tenth, that part of the army which was at Warrenton was drawn up along the turnpike and General McClellan's farewell address was read to them; then came hearty cheering, as the General rode down between the lines of the troops, bidding them farewell. The army was sad over the loss of a commander who had their affection and confidence.

Two days later the Fifth Corps had another sad parting scene when their old commander, Major General Fitz-John Porter, was relieved and ordered to report at Washington. Major General Joseph Hooker was now placed in command of the corps.

General Burnside did not seek--nor did he wish--to take the command of the Army of the Potomac, frankly declaring himself inadequate for that exalted position. In this he was prophetic, and in a month proved it to the mournful knowledge of the army and the entire country.

We remained about a week at Warrenton. General Burnside formed the six corps of the army into what were to be called the Right, Center and Left Grand Divisions, commanded respectively by Generals Sumner, Hooker and Franklin. The Right Grand Division was composed of the Second and Ninth Corps; the Center of the Third and Fifth, and the Left of the First and Sixth Corps, General Hooker being selected, as I have mentioned, as one of the Grand Division commanders. General Daniel Butterfield was appointed to command the Fifth Army Corps, which Hooker had commanded only for a few days.

We left Warrenton on the seventeenth and went by way of Warrenton Junction and Hartwood Church to the vicinity of Falmouth, near Fredericksburg, and parked the Fifth Corps train, establishing a camp near the Henry house on the twenty-third of November. This march was a very severe one, as we had a cold rain nearly every day and the roads were execrable. Wagons were stalled in the mud, teams had to be doubled to pull them out, the road was blockaded for hours at a time, and it was very late at night when we caught up with the troops, who were in bivouac long before our arrival.

It soon became very cold and we experienced the rigors of a winter campaign. The soldiers built little log huts and shacks, roofed them with their shelter tents, and built earth and stone fireplaces, the chimneys terminating in a flour or pork barrel which often caught fire. For an office and a place to sleep I had a wall tent with a camp stove in it. We fixed up a kitchen and, with the aid of tarpaulins, erected a few store-houses for the protection of the commissary stores, which were guarded by a sentinel. The railroad from Aquia Creek on the Potomac was quickly repaired and we drew our supplies at a railroad switch about two miles from the camp.

On evenings when I was at leisure I often visited my regiment to talk with my comrades. Some sat around camp-fires built in the company streets, others played cards in their little huts. Tricks were often played upon the card-players, such as covering the barrel chimney with a gunny-bag and smoking them out; or some more mischievous man would throw percussion caps down the chimney, or a few paper cartridges, which scattered their fire and broke up the game for a while. On some days when three or four inches of snow had fallen and then melted to a soft slush, the soldiers were in misery; and at other times they suffered from cold, which was very severe for that latitude.

As General Burnside had determined to cross the Rappahannock and attack the enemy at Fredericksburg, I was ordered on the tenth of December to issue five days' marching rations to the brigade and then to load all stores into the wagons and be ready to leave camp when ordered. On the morning of the eleventh, before daybreak we heard the booming of cannon in the direction of Fredericksburg, three miles away, where the engineer troops were preparing to lay pontoon bridges across the river. Shortly after daylight the Fifth Corps began its march towards the river and the train followed the troops. On our arrival at the river-bank the corps and train were massed behind the batteries on Stafford Heights, which overlooked the river, the town and much of the country beyond, although a heavy fog enveloped the town during the early morning hours and hid it from view. The engineers, engaged in laying the pontoons, were opposed by such a destructive fire from the Rebel sharp-shooters concealed in the houses and in rifle-pits on the opposite side of the river that they were obliged to cease operations and retire to cover, although some troops on our side of the river kept firing on the sharp-shooters.

About ten o'clock General Burnside ordered the one hundred and forty-seven guns on Stafford Heights to shell the town, which was done for nearly two hours. The noise was terrific. During this bombardment I made my way to the front, alongside of one of our batteries, where I had a good view of the effect of our terrible fire on the city about a mile away, until the smoke from bursting shells and burning buildings obscured the view. The Rebel batteries on the heights beyond the town made little attempt to reply to our fire; only a few long-range guns could reach us, and they did little damage in my vicinity. When our bombardment ceased it was found that it had failed to dislodge the sharp-shooters, as our guns could not be depressed enough for the shells to hit the houses on the river-bank.

It was after the shelling ceased that the Nineteenth Massachusetts and the Seventh Michigan regiments, which were at the river-front, volunteered to cross the river in pontoon boats and drive away the sharp-shooters. This they did in gallant style, under fire. Two bridges were completed at four thirty P.M. and troops began to cross, continuing all night and the following day. Sykes's division was held in reserve and did not cross until the afternoon of the thirteenth. Very few wagons were sent over besides ammunition wagons.

Lieutenant Hawkins sent me with a written message to brigade headquarters about sundown on the same day. I went on foot, past the Lacey house (which was Burnside's headquarters during the battle and was also used as a hospital) down the hill to the river and across a pontoon bridge. I found my brigade halted in one of the streets near the edge of the town, preparing to march out and relieve some of the troops on the front line. I delivered my letter to Major Andrews, the brigade commander, who returned the envelope to me marked in pencil with his name and time of delivery, as was customary.

On my way back to the pontoon bridge I had time to say a few words to my comrades in the regiment as I passed them. The streets were dark, but there was light enough to distinguish the effects of the bombardment and the burnt houses of two days before. I walked in the middle of the street while passing through some of the residence blocks, for the brick sidewalks were littered with chairs, sofas, bedding and all manner of household goods from the looted houses, which had been thrown out by some of our soldiers who had bivouacked in the street the night before. Some of the stragglers were still in the houses; in one of them I heard some soldiers playing a piano. We had been told that a number of women and children had remained in town, hiding in cellars, but I saw none of them, although I did see a number of corpses lying about on the sidewalks and in the streets, and wounded soldiers making their way to hospitals which had been established in the public buildings and many of the private houses. Nearer the river business buildings and stores had been looted and the contents scattered over the street. In passing through one of these streets I picked up a book as a souvenir and when I examined it later on in camp I found the name of Alexander H. Stevens written in it. He was the vice-president of the Confederacy. At the bridge I was stopped by the guard and was obliged to explain my business to the officer in command and exhibit my envelope before being allowed to re-pass the river.

The story of the Battle of Fredericksburg covers the saddest pages in the history of the war. From it we learn how Burnside planned this battle, then lost his head and followed no particular plan; how he stubbornly hurled division after division in a front attack on the impregnable position on Marye's Heights against the advice of his corps commanders; how thousands were sacrificed in this bloody and most useless slaughter of the war; the indescribable sufferings of the wounded to whom no help could be extended, many of whom were frozen during the winter nights. The rank and file themselves knew the hopelessness of the attack, and yet bravely made three more charges after the first had been nearly annihilated.

Sykes's division was not called upon to take part in the direct assault, but on the night of the thirteenth took up a position which at daylight proved to be in a depression so shallow that to raise a limb while lying down or to turn over, meant surely to be wounded; and some who tried to get to the rear for water immediately fell lifeless, pierced by many balls. No help could be given to the wounded--they were obliged to lie and wait until night, when the command was enabled to creep away. In our brigade eighty men were killed and wounded, mostly while hugging the cold earth all that day and having no chance to inflict any damage on the enemy except for a little while the previous evening.

The army was skillfully withdrawn on the night of the fifteenth during a violent rain-storm. The First Brigade of General Sykes's regulars, and General Warren's Third Brigade covered the retreat. When these troops had crossed some time after daylight on the seventeenth, the engineers cast the pontoons loose and none remained behind in the death-trap into which Burnside had led the army, except the many thousands of our wounded, their surgeons and some prisoners. The army returned to its former locations and re-established its camps.

The morale of the army was much impaired by this battle; it had lost confidence in its commander which could never be restored, and for the first time the Army of the Potomac might be considered demoralized.

Christmas and New Year's passed, celebrated among the volunteers by the reception of thousands of boxes containing gifts and good things from their friends at home; but few of the regulars had any friends to remember them. The only exception to the usual routine on those two days was the issuing of a gill of whiskey by the commissary.

But we were not yet done with General Burnside. Once more he tried to surprise the vigilant enemy. On January sixteenth orders were issued to prepare to march on the eighteenth, then were countermanded and it was not until noon of the twentieth that the movement started--which gave the enemy plenty of time to learn of it through their spies and be prepared for us. The weather had been severely cold for some time and the roads frozen hard. We marched about five miles towards the Rappahannock in a direction to bring us above Fredericksburg at Banks' Ford, not fordable at this time, and halted for the night, when rain began to fall and continued throughout the night.

The next day when the movement was resumed, the storm was worse. Soon the roads were blocked by artillery and wagons stalled in quagmire; and pontoons were upset and laid along the road, the condition of which was appalling. It seemed as though the elements were determined that Burnside should not again lead the army into disaster. Before night the army was literally mud-bound and was unable to advance or retreat; large details of infantry tried to help pull the artillery and wagons out of the clayey and sticky roads, ineffectually; then thousands of men were put to work to fell trees to corduroy and to build new stretches of road. Though the rain ceased on the evening of the second day, men and animals continued to suffer greatly while trying to extricate the teams. Some of the horses and mules that dropped exhausted in their traces were drowned, so deep was the liquid mud in places. It took four days of Herculean toil to enable the army to return to their camps again. My train did not fare so badly as some others, for we halted at the end of the first day's march and remained there for three days. During that time we issued some rations of hard bread and sugar and coffee to replace what had been spoiled by the fierce rain in the men's haversacks. As the wagons could not move to get to the brigade, details of soldiers had to come and get these rations and carry them for miles on their backs to their comrades. This was "Burnside's Mud March," never to be forgotten by those who participated in it. The Rebel pickets on the opposite side of the Rappahannock in derision put up some large sign-boards marked, "Burnside stuck in the mud!" "This way to Richmond!"

On January twenty-fifth, directly after our return from the "Mud March," General Burnside resigned the command of the Army of the Potomac and was later on given a command in the West. There was no farewell parade, as there had been for Generals McClellan and Porter a little more than two months before. He had lost the confidence of the army and the support of the Administration, and had drawn upon himself the censure of the press and the people for his useless sacrifice of thousands of human lives.

General Joseph Hooker was now placed in command of the army, "Fighting Joe Hooker," as the soldiers called him, an officer fairly well liked in the army but not possessing the entire confidence of the corps commanders as to his fitness for the position. General Hooker made many changes. He did away with the Grand Division formation. In the Fifth Corps he made Major General George G. Meade the commander, in place of Butterfield, who became his Chief of Staff. We lost General Warren, the commander of our Third Brigade; he became the Chief of Topographical Engineers on General Hooker's staff. Distinctive corps badges were ordered to be worn on the cap or hat of each officer and soldier; headquarters of each brigade, division and corps had a standard with a device the shape and color of which indicated at a glance that part of the army they typified. The badge of the Fifth Army Corps was in the shape of a Maltese cross of red for the First Division, white for the second, blue for the third, and green when there was a fourth division. These badges proved to be very useful when arresting stragglers and returning them to their command. They were made of cloth, one and one-half inches square. We wore them to the end of the war.

After the "Mud March" the soldiers rebuilt their huts and made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances; but the winter proved to be an unusually severe one for Virginia. We had much snow and some very cold periods. Many furloughs were granted, absentees returned, and recruits arrived. The commissary issued full rations, often including fresh bread which had been baked in Washington and could be issued within two days. Some regiments drew flour and baked their own bread.

After Fredericksburg there was much Confederate money in some of the camps which had been plundered from the banks and houses. It soon became widely distributed through poker playing and it was no uncommon thing to find games for large stakes going on in the tents at night. Expressions such as "I'll see you, and raise you a hundred dollars!" were often heard; some had thousands of dollars. Much of this money was sent away as souvenirs, much of it was lost or destroyed; some, in a spirit of bravado, lit their pipes with ten-dollar bills--much to their vexation, when later on a man came along, offering to pay three cents on the dollar for the Confederate money.

While in this camp Sergeant Clous was promoted, becoming Second Lieutenant in the Sixth Infantry. He had instructed me so well in my duties that by this time I was competent to get along unassisted. I also lost Lieutenant Hawkins, who remained Brigade Quartermaster but was replaced as Commissary by First Lieutenant William F. Greeley of the Eleventh United States Infantry, a civilian appointee from New Hampshire. I got along very well with him and never had any trouble while he remained Commissary Officer; my only objection to him was that in many difficult situations he let me find my own way out of trouble without his advice or assistance. At this time I traded my rather large gray horse for a smaller dark bay, an intelligent and kindly-disposed animal of whom I became very fond. I called him Tommy, and among other tricks I taught him to push his head through the opening of my tent and beg for a cracker or sugar.

The winter seemed long and dreary. In April reviews were held and there was much drilling. By the middle of April the Army of the Potomac had increased in numbers to about one hundred and ten thousand infantry and artillery, and about eleven thousand cavalry, and was once more ready and eager for active service.