Part 10

The “Home” was not, as many supposed, purchased by Government, but by soldiers of the regular army. The first sum appropriated for this object, $40,000, was levied on the city of Mexico by General Scott. Here the aged and disabled soldiers of the regular army find a home. The building is large, beautiful, and commodious. We were conducted through it by Sergeant Charles Bussel, Company F, Fourth U. S. Artillery, who is now sixty-three years old. He was in active service thirty-one years--has been at the “Home” seven years. At present it contains ninety-six inmates. Everything is kept in the most perfect order, and moves on like clock-work. From the tower we had a fine view of the country for miles around. Spread out before us was the city of Washington, with its teeming multitudes and busy thoroughfares; its numerous spires pointing upward, whither our thoughts should oftener turn; its long rows of low white-washed buildings, whose mute walls, could they speak, would tell sad tales of human woe. Thither have been brought thousands of the suffering “boys in blue,” and from them have been removed multitudes of lifeless “boys in white.”

A little to the westward lay Georgetown, with its narrow streets and ivy-grown walls. A few miles down the river Alexandria could be seen. In the distance was Fairfax Seminary, and across the river the Arlington House, and the numerous forts which skirt its banks. The estate contains three hundred and fifty acres, a portion of which is under cultivation. Evergreens, shrubbery, and flowers surround the “Home;” gravel walks and carriage-ways lead to and from it in different directions. But amid all this beauty a solemn stillness reigns; here the voice of childhood is never heard, or woman’s face ever seen, except as an occasional visitor. These, it would seem, are all that it needs to make it an earthly paradise.[3]

[3] I am here speaking exclusively of the “Home,” without reference to the other buildings near, viz.: the summer residence of the president, and the residence of the governor of the estate.

_CHAPTER XII._

FAIRFAX COURT-HOUSE--SEARCH FOR A SOLDIER’S GRAVE--RETURN OF THE RICHMOND RAIDERS--THIRD VISIT TO THE ARMY--ACCIDENT--FIELD HOSPITALS--DEATH OF SOLDIERS--GRACE GREENWOOD--LITTLE ANNA--BATTLE EXPECTED--CAMP RUMORS--A SEVERE STORM--THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-THIRD PENNSYLVANIA VOLUNTEERS--ARMY RE-ORGANIZED--GRANT TAKES COMMAND--REVIEW OF THE SECOND CORPS--SOBER REFLECTIONS.

Saturday, the 12th of March, I went to Fairfax Court-House with supplies for the sick at that place, having heard that they were in a very destitute condition. There were there no Michigan soldiers at Fairfax at this time, but as our motto was to do for all as we had opportunity, it was thought best to ascertain whether these reports were true, and if so, do what we could to better their condition. At Fairfax station, I visited the hospital of the One Hundred and Fifty-fifth New York volunteers. It contained but few sick, and none dangerously ill. At the Court-House, there were two hospitals, viz.: the Seventeenth New York Battery, and the Fourth Delaware volunteers. But finding these, contrary to expectation, very comfortably supplied, I left only part of my goods and returned to Washington with the remainder. While at Fairfax I shared the hospitality of Mrs. Anthony, whose husband was in command of the battery on duty at that place. Sunday morning I visited the place where were resting many of the “Boys in White.” As I stood and looked upon those lonely graves, memory recalled many sad experiences; for the very spot once occupied by our hospitals, in which I had watched by the dying couch of many a soldier who was now sleeping in his “turf-bed” at my feet, was only a short distance away. The grave of Peter Young, who died the morning we evacuated the place the previous June, I was particularly desirous of finding, as his sister was extremely anxious to come on for his body; but for some time after our troops left there was no communication with the place, and the country was soon infested with roving bands of guerrillas, rendering a visit to that place hazardous, if not impossible. Not finding his grave here, I started for another burying-ground nearly half a mile from this; but I had proceeded only a short distance when I came upon a sentinel, who refused to let me cross his beat, as I was without a pass. I told him the mission upon which I was going, but, like a good soldier, he still refused. It being too late to return to head-quarters for a pass--as the ambulance was already waiting which was to take me to the depot--I was compelled to abandon the idea of further search, and retraced my steps with many regrets that I could not even convey to the sorrowing friends the poor consolation, that the silent resting-place of their dear one was known and had been visited. While at Fairfax there was considerable excitement in regard to Mosby’s guerrillas, who were reported to be in the vicinity of Vienna. The cavalry were sent in pursuit of them; but every attempt to capture them was eluded. Before I left for Washington one division of Kilpatrick’s Cavalry passed through the place, having just returned from their Richmond raid, and were on their way to their old quarters near Stevensburg. Both horse and rider looked worn and weary. The real object of the raid had not been accomplished. Richmond had not been taken, and our starving soldiers were not released from those vile prison-pens.

Monday, the 14th, I again went to the army with supplies, and was instructed to remain until further orders. The day was delightful, the air cool and balmy. At the depot I fell in company with Mr. G. A. Willett of Ionia, who was on his way to his post of duty in the Second Corps. My trips to the army never lost their novelty, for the country passed through contained so much of deep and thrilling interest, almost every station on the route having been the scene of bloody conflicts, and nearly every object that met the eye was associated with some sad tale. When within three miles of Brandy Station, the train was thrown from the track, and four cars were completely demolished. One man was killed, and many others seriously injured. Fortunately the car we occupied, though thrown from the track, was not overturned, so we escaped unhurt. While waiting and deliberating whether to start on foot, we were surprised by the arrival of Lieutenant Chase, who was waiting for me at the station; but, hearing of the accident, he at once hastened to the scene of the disaster, and, in a few moments, we were on our way to the camp of the Michigan Twenty-sixth, where we arrived a little before dark.

I took possession of Dr. Raymond’s cabin--who was absent on leave, and, upon his return, took quarters with the Adjutant--which Willie, our cook, had put in the best house-keeping order, and who, during my stay of six weeks, ever seemed to consider it a pleasure to do all he could to make my home pleasant; always taking the opportunity when I was absent at other hospitals to wash my cabin floor, and to be sure and have a bright fire blazing on the hearth upon my return. Dear Willie! long ere the dawn of peace, he went to join the army on the other side of the river. Among the thousands buried at Arlington may be seen upon one of the little head boards the name of “William Brokaw, Company I, Twenty-sixth Michigan Volunteers.”

“Sweet be the death of those Who for their country die; Sleep on her bosom for repose, And triumph where they lie.”

My home being with the Twenty-sixth, of course a larger share of my time was spent with this hospital than any other; yet I made occasional visits to the Third, Fifth, and Seventh cavalry regiments. The First, Fourth, and Sixteenth infantry regiments I was not able to visit at all. The general health of the army at this time was considered good, though in the aggregate there were many sick. It was impossible to keep a correct record of the sick in all the hospitals, on account of the changes which were constantly being made.

One class of patients would be brought in, remain a few days, and then sent off to division or some general hospital, and their places filled by others.

I seldom visited a hospital without missing some familiar face and greeting strange ones. The long distance from one regiment to another--being from one to eight miles--with roads much of the time almost impassable, made it extremely difficult to visit the same hospital very often. Rain, and consequently mud, we had in no stinted measure. Sometimes the rain would continue to fall for three or four days in succession, and was usually accompanied with a cold high wind, and not unfrequently with snow.

The 29th of March, during one of the severest storms of the season, the One Hundred Eighty-third Pa. volunteers went into camp a short distance from us. This was a new regiment, wholly unaccustomed to the hardships of camp life. All day long they were exposed to a cold, drenching rain, with nothing to protect them but their little shelter tents.

Night came on; the storm continued; the wind, which had blown a perfect gale all day, still whistled through their open tents; and thus, without fire, and with saturated clothing, they spent the night in the pitiless storm. As many as could be accommodated came into our hospital and cook-room, grateful for the privilege of sleeping upon the floor before the fire. For twenty-four hours they were scarcely able to make fire sufficient to boil their coffee. Many a poor fellow lost his life in consequence of exposure to this merciless storm.

It was no uncommon thing for soldiers to be brought in from the picket line, sick even unto death; but this was a duty that could not be neglected, no matter what the weather, for ofttimes the safety of the whole army depended upon its faithful discharge.

My stay with the army, notwithstanding the many sad scenes so often witnessed and the lonely hours sometimes experienced, was rather pleasant than otherwise. Aside from the satisfaction there is in trying to do good, there is a novelty connected with such a life which gives to it many attractions. Soldiers are always full of fun and good-natured jokes. Exciting rumors, sometimes with, but oftener without foundation, are constantly afloat, furnishing subjects for conversation. Besides, there are occasional opportunities, even in the army, for intellectual entertainments. One such was enjoyed by the Second Corps soon after my arrival. We were favored with a visit from the gifted authoress and lecturer, “Grace Greenwood.” It was my privilege to listen to two of the three lectures she delivered while there. These lectures were rare treats; they were like oases in the desert. During her stay, she favored us with a call, visited our hospital, spoke cheeringly to the sick, with whom her heart was in full sympathy. She also accepted an invitation to dine with us. She was accompanied by her little daughter Anna--a sweet child of eight years. Ah! methinks many a father’s heart grew sad as he saw this little girl tripping gaily through camp, or as he listened to her sweet singing. She must have reminded him of the dear little “Annie,” or “Hattie,” or “Nellie,” he left at home, and whom he might never again see. Perchance some sentinel on his beat paused to wipe the unbidden tear from his weather-beaten cheek as she crossed his path, being reminded of his own precious daughter, the patter of whose feet he might hear no more forever!

Quite an exciting scene occurred one afternoon, occasioned by one of the many rumors constantly afloat in the army. All was usually quiet, no apprehension of immediate danger or sign of “a move,” when suddenly we were startled by an order for the regiment to be ready to move at a moment’s notice, as it was reported that the rebels had crossed the Rapidan, driven in our pickets, and were already engaged with the cavalry. Presently the order to “advance” is received. Then comes the hasty preparations; well-filled cartridge-boxes are buckled on, muskets shouldered, and the order, “fall in,” quietly obeyed. Very soon they are all drawn up in line of battle on the ridge of a high hill in front of our camp; batteries are placed in position, and everything in readiness to give the “chivalry” a cordial greeting. Things really looked like a fight; but before sundown all were quietly withdrawn and returned to their old quarters without even getting a sight of a rebel. As they came filing into camp, some felt provoked, and all disappointed, for they had hoped to have a “brush”--as they called it--with the enemy. To use their own words, they were “spoiling for a fight.” The inactivity of camp life while in winter quarters was one prolific source of demoralization in the army. The true cause of the alarm was soon ascertained. A few rebels _did_ cross the river and drive in some of our pickets, but they were soon driven back and compelled to re-cross. For a few days this furnished the topic of conversation, and then something new came up; and when nothing new happened, the “boys” would improvise something.

Toward the last of March I expected Mrs. Thompson, formerly of Ionia, Michigan, to make me a visit and bring a new supply of hospital stores. But I looked in vain. The goods at length came, but she was not with them, as she could not obtain a pass. I was so greatly disappointed that for a while time seemed to pass more slowly; my evenings were unusually lonely. The evening tattoo and morning reveille, and the warriors’ calls of the drum, to which I had ever listened with pleasure, now seemed only to mock my loneliness. I tried to be reconciled, but never could fully. I was obliged to adopt the language of the old adage, “What can’t be cured must be endured.” Toward the middle of April I began to feel somewhat anxious to return to Washington, as all non-combatants were ordered to leave the army. General Grant had arrived and taken command in person, and the work of re-organizing commenced. The sick were being sent away as fast as possible, and everything indicated a speedy move. However, I remained until I had disposed of the new supply of goods.

The review of the Second Corps on the 22d of April, by General Grant, was a grand sight. It was estimated that there were fifty thousand troops on review that day. Then, in addition to these, were the almost endless lines of ambulances and army wagons, all having been repaired and newly painted; everything was in readiness for the opening campaign. To one unaccustomed to seeing large armies, it would seem that this corps alone was sufficient to meet and successfully resist whatever force could be brought to oppose it; and yet what a small part of the vast army of the Union, and only about one-third of the Grand Army of the Potomac!

Many of our sick I afterward found scattered through various hospitals in different cities. Among these, there were three of the Twenty-sixth, for whom I had felt the deepest interest and solicitude, who died after arriving in Washington, viz., Sergeant Rooks, privates Van Decar and Miller. Each left a family to mourn departed hopes.

The morning of the 23d, I bade “good-by” to the few sick left in the hospital and returned to Washington. The day was warm and pleasant; yet my heart was sad, for it took no great stretch of the imagination to look forward into the midst of the terrible conflict about to begin, and to see many of the brave and the noble fall; to see the wounded and slain by thousands, scattered far and near, with the advancing and retreating armies marching and counter-marching over their mangled bodies, the bones of multitudes being left to bleach upon the plain and the earth made red with human gore. Then the thought of the bitter grief and unavailing tear which would so soon succeed the long suspense and anxious fears which filled every home, if not every heart, in our land, left little room for other than sad reflections. But every picture, however dark, has its bright side, and so had this fearful one. The hope of victory illumined its dark background. It was this that buckled on the armor and nerved every heart for the contest.

_CHAPTER XIII._

HOSPITAL WORK IN WASHINGTON AND ALEXANDRIA--NEW ARRIVALS OF THE SICK--NINTH CORPS--BATTLES OF THE WILDERNESS--THE WOUNDED ARRIVE--EN ROUTE FOR FREDERICKSBURG--FIRST NIGHT IN THE “BLOODY CITY”--OUR QUARTERS--HOSPITAL VISITS AND HOSPITAL WORK--DISTRIBUTING SUPPLIES--DISTRESSING SIGHTS--SAD INCIDENTS.

I arrived in Washington without accident this time, though the rebels had become very bold, making frequent raids upon the road, tearing up the track, capturing the guard, and doing all sorts of mischief. Immediately upon arriving in Washington, I expected to start for Michigan on a short visit; but, as the army was on the eve of a move, I yielded to the urgent request of the officers of our Association, to remain until the close of the opening campaign, and resumed my work of visiting hospitals, in connection with Mrs. Brainard, who had returned from her visit home three months before. We found plenty to do, as our hospitals were being filled with the sick daily arriving from the army. Many were left from the Ninth Corps, which passed through the city on the 25th instant, on their way to rejoin the Army of the Potomac, having been recalled from the Western department, where they were sent one year before. The corps, at this time, numbered about thirty thousand. They were over three hours in passing a given point. Poor fellows, how worn and weary they looked! There was the Eighth Michigan, to which a dear brother once belonged. How eagerly I watched for Company K! But, oh! a tall, manly form was missing. No familiar face met my eye, no well-known voice greeted me; but while his comrades were marching on to victory and to death, he lay calmly sleeping a few miles distant. No more fatiguing marches, no more sleepless nights, no more suffering, no more hunger or thirst or weariness for thee, brother; thy last march is ended, the last battle fought, and the victory won. Sleep peacefully, brother, until the archangel’s trumpet shall bid thee arise.

The 26th of the month I went to Alexandria, and remained three days, visiting and distributing to the sick and wounded in those hospitals. While there, I had the pleasure of seeing, for the first time, General Burnside--that noble, generous officer, who always did the best he could, if not always the most successful. He was then, and still is, loved for his honesty of heart and integrity of purpose.

Two days more, which were spent in Washington--one in visiting hospitals, the other in packing goods to take to the front and attending to home duties--brings me down to the first of May.

It will be remembered that, early in this month, the Army of the Potomac struck tents, buckled on their armor, and, at the command of their gallant leader, “whose name was a tower of strength,” moved on with their faces “wilderness-ward,” to scenes of fierce strife, carnage, and death. Soon a series of battles commenced, which scarcely ended until the fall of Richmond. It was a truthful saying, that the battle of the Wilderness was the bloody initiation of the great campaign which was to terminate the war. The 8th of the month several hundred of the more slightly wounded arrived. They had a serious time in making their way from the battlefield to the Rappahannock--a distance of nearly thirty miles--no transportation being furnished them, as all the ambulances were employed in removing the more severely wounded. On their way they were attacked by guerrillas, but finally succeeded in making their escape, after killing several, without losing any of their own number. Those who were unarmed fought with broken muskets, clubs, and whatever else they could lay hands on.

As reports of the fighting continued to reach us, and none of the more serious cases arrived, we applied for passes to go to Fredericksburg--that being the new base of supplies for the army, and whither thousands of the wounded were removed from the battlefield--which we finally obtained through our State Agent, Dr. Tunnecliffe, late in the afternoon of the 10th. Early next morning, Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Brainard, and myself, in company with other volunteer laborers, went to the wharf with our goods, that we might be in readiness to take the first boat that should leave for Belle Plain.

While waiting, three boats filled with the wounded arrived. They were crowded, from the upper-deck to the hold, with scarcely room to pass between those mangled forms, who were suffering not only from wounds, but famishing with hunger. Their hunger, however, was soon relieved, for a large number of delegates of the Sanitary and Christian Commissions were present, with plenty of hot coffee, milk-punch, lemonade, crackers, and the like, which were distributed with a liberal hand to all. As fast as possible they were removed to hospitals, where they could be better cared for. About four o’clock P. M., we went on board the steamer Wenonah. Before leaving the wharf a letter was handed me, dated, “Chancellorsville, May 7th, 1864.” I will quote a single paragraph: “The Twenty-Sixth are all right, but the Fifth are badly cut up; Major Mathews reported mortally wounded.” Oh! how such reports increased our impatience, and lengthened the waiting moments into hours, and the hours into days. But at length we leave the shores of Washington. Every heart beats high with the hope that the morning will find us among the wounded at Belle Plain. But we had proceeded only a few miles when a collision occurred, injuring our boat slightly, yet sufficient to cause her to anchor off Alexandria for the night.

_May 12th, 1864._

At six o’clock this morning, the Wenonah, richly laden with hospital-stores and volunteer laborers, left Alexandria and steamed down the Potomac. Fort Washington is soon passed, Mount Vernon left in the distance, and other places of less importance appear and recede from view.

As we near our place of destination, cannonading is heard, rapid and heavy. A terrible battle is raging. Oh! how we long for “the wings of the morning,” that we may fly to the relief of the wounded; but our anxiety does not accelerate our speed. About one o’clock we anchor a short distance from Belle Plain, where we remain until nearly dark, when we are all taken on board the Young America, and carried over to the landing; but we cannot go ashore, as we would be entirely without shelter for the night, and the rain, which has been falling all the afternoon, still continues.

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