Part 12

Before taking our place in the line we were ordered to remove our knapsacks and all needless baggage that might interfere with our movements when the charge was ordered. That was the time that tried our nerves. The field was before us. The obstacles to be met and overcome we could see, and with our past experience it was evident to all that the contemplated movement if executed must involve a fearful sacrifice of life on our side. For hours we watched, and waited in suspense the signal that was to open the conflict, and the relief we experienced when the order to charge was countermanded, can better be imagined than described.

At dark we retired a little way from our position in the line of battle, built our camp fires, cooked our supper, and laid down to rest. About midnight we were aroused, and falling into line moved to the right about a mile, where our corps joined the 6th corps which occupied a position in the woods, and there we formed in line of battle. The following day will long be remembered by us on account of our bitter conflict with Jack Frost instead of Johnnie Reb. The day was extremely cold, freezing the water in our canteens, and although in danger of freezing ourselves, we were ordered not to build fires, or in any way make ourselves conspicuous, for we were within range of the enemy’s guns. Our situation was one of exposure and peril, for if we obeyed orders we were sure to perish with the cold, and if we disobeyed, as sure to draw the enemy’s fire, with the risk of losing life or limb. We took the latter risk--built fires by which to warm ourselves, or chased each other in a circle around a tree or stump to keep our blood in circulation and our limbs from freezing. And when a solid shot or a fragment of a shell came whizzing through the woods where we lay, we hugged the ground more closely, or sought the shelter of some rock or stump or tree, until the firing ceased, then resumed our exercise, or gathered around the fire again to cook our coffee, warm ourselves, and make another target for the enemy.

Thus for three days and nights the two great armies of Virginia menaced each other across the valley of Mine Run. At last the movement was abandoned and the campaign ended by the withdrawal of our army to the north of the Rappahannock, and two days afterward we found ourselves in what proved to be our winter quarters at Liberty.

While in winter quarters we had the pleasure of seeing several ladies about the cantonments, among them Mrs. Faxon, the young wife of our surgeon, whose experience and memories of the time it may be better to render in the first person.

XIII.

_A LADY AT WINTER QUARTERS._

Early in the winter of 1864, the 32d was in winter cantonments at Liberty, near Bealton Station, on the Orange & Alexandria railroad. Of course somebody must have commanded the army, but whoever he was, he never called upon me, and is of no consequence to my story. My orders to join came from an officer much more important in my eyes--the surgeon of the 32d, who, queerly enough, was also my husband.

After all manner of experiences I arrived at Bealton Station, a locality which by daylight appeared to be a quarter-section of Virginia land and a small, rough, and inconvenient platform of planks; but it was evening when I arrived--yes, a dark, rainy, December evening. A shadowy form having the voice of our garrulous quartermaster waited to welcome me, and by it I was ushered into the damp darkness, out of which loomed, by and by, the hazy form of an ambulance and two hazy mules--and then, but beyond and more misty, the upper half of what seemed to be my husband, and the ears of his horse. Whether I was sufficiently hearty in my greeting I do not know--I am afraid not, for all this was not what I had imagined would be my first impressions on coming within army lines.

My idea of an army was made up of brilliant sights and stirring sounds. Nice clean flags--bright-buttoned uniforms--flying horses and full bands of music, were essential parts of the picture which my fancy had painted, and here was nothing but wet and darkness and mud. Through mud a foot deep, the creaking of the vehicle and “soh” of the feet of the wading mules, only breaking the moist silence--I was driven to the mansion in which my husband was quartered, and which was to be my home for the winter. Out of all this dreariness, however, I stepped into the cheerful light of glowing windows, and was welcomed to a most hospitable wood fire, in front of which was a table set out with a smoking supper of tempting odor--and my surgeon appeared no longer misty and uncorporeal, but solid humanity, and looking really quite bright in the eyes, and happy in my coming.

The hearty welcome, the bright light, and the cheering warmth soon obliterated all memory of the weary journey and the dismal night. The fatted chicken had been killed for me, and was served with hot potatoes, corn-bread, tea, and cold meat. A bright little negro girl waited upon me, and it added to the pleasant novelty of my position to be served by a piece even so small of the “peculiar institution.”

The “mansion” consisted of four rooms, the two on the lower floor separated by a hall; the kitchen was a small building across the yard--earth floored--and it was not only kitchen but bed-room for the black servants, who, however, did not seem to use any beds. But all this I did not learn until daylight came again, and the drums, fifes, and bugles bursting out into reveille woke me amid dreams of home-life to the consciousness of my surroundings. Listening to that stirring music (how exhilarating even now is the bare memory of the reveille) and looking out from my window upon the camp of our Regiment and of many other regiments, seeing everywhere the signs of real service, I was more than satisfied, and no longer bewailed the absence of my ideal army.

This winter was one of halcyon days to me. Accustomed to the rigors of a Northern winter, the many bright warm days of the season, in Virginia, were peculiarly enjoyable. The country had been stripped of fences, and our horseback rides were limited only by our picket lines. Now we walked our horses through the woods, the dry underbrush crackling beneath their hoofs--now cantered freely over some wide expanse of old fields,--reining up to pass some ugly bit of corduroy road, or to ford a full water-course. In the foreground might be a “mansion,” occupied by some general officer as his headquarters, or a group of negro huts still tenanted by blacks of all ages. In the distance the high hills of the Blue Ridge, and perhaps between, in the middle distance, picturesque camps of artillery, cavalry, or infantry.

A few of the houses were still occupied by the families of their owners, among whom we made acquaintances; the able-bodied men were all “away,” the women said; where,--they never told.

Besides our almost daily rides, we paid and received visits, and exchanged rather limited hospitalities. Quartermaster Hoyt entertained us frequently, and although his _piece de résistance_ was invariably a dish of fish balls, yet having a cook who knew how to make good ones, his fare always seemed sumptuous. Once we dined with Colonel Prescott, who flared out with a joint of roast beef, but this was exceptional grandeur.

Our quarters became quite the evening resort for officers of the 32d, and the few ladies who were there, and the hours passed pleasantly away with chat and games and jokes and stories. I could not then with any success assume a matronly role, and sometimes perhaps actually enjoyed the practical jokes which abounded in the camp. Then, too, where ladies are but few, they certainly are better appreciated than in the crowded halls of fashion, and it was pleasant (for I am human and woman) to be the attraction in a circle of young and brave men.

Please don’t anybody think that my time was entirely taken up with pleasures or trifling occupations. Even doctors need all manner of work done for them by their wives--there were some housekeeping cares, and the regimental hospital was none the worse for having a woman’s eye over it. My first experience in dressmaking was in behalf of Mrs. O., a native neighbor, who had been useful, and possibly earned a trifle by mending for officers and men. To be sure when it was done it appeared that I had made the back of the basque all in one piece, without any seam, but that may be the fashion some day. No, I was not idle, and all days were not bright and happy, but the bright ones linger longest in my memory.

I did, once in a while, wish that in my peaceful life there might be mingled, just for seasoning, a trifle of real war; but one evening, when we were attending a dance over at the spacious log camp of Martin’s battery, there came an orderly all splashed with mud, with news that a raiding party of the enemy was close at hand, and the party scattered, infantry officers hurrying back to their regiments, and all to their posts. The brass guns, which, decked in fresh evergreen, had formed quite a striking decoration to the temporary ball-room, were hustled away into position. The voices which had been saying pretty things to us changed to tones of command, hardly softening to tell us that safety forbade our return to quarters. Some sort of a hole was prepared for our safe-keeping in case of attack, but when all was quiet, beds were made in the log house assigned to us ladies, of boughs laid on raised boards, on which we slept soundly until daylight came, when the alarm was over, and it was safe for us to ride home. It was very nice for once, but my ambition for stirring scenes was fully satisfied.

Late in the season there was quite a grand ball, and on St. Patrick’s day a merry party gathered to witness the games, races, and sports which had been organized by the officers of the 9th Massachusetts Regiment in honor of the festival. This was the height of the winter’s gaiety; with the milder air of spring, we non-combatants must flit away to our homes, and leave our soldiers alone to meet the stern realities of the coming campaign.

But there were stern realities too, for us at home, as we waited, sometimes in dread, because we heard nothing, and yet again trembling for fear that we should hear a more dread _something_--trying even, while oppressed thus with terror and anxiety, to compose cheerful letters to the dear ones out of sight under the war-cloud. Is it wonderful that we welcomed with something of a weird satisfaction every call in behalf of the soldiers for our time, our labor, and our energy, or that we plunged into the work of our own sphere with a certain reckless desire to drown out in stirring occupation, the care and anxiety which haunted each idle hour.

Can anyone realize in these peaceful days what was one of the chief of women’s sorrows then--that very often that which was the cause of their deepest grief and affliction, might be the occasion for public and general rejoicing, and that the wife of yesterday, the widow of today, must don her weeds of mourning at the moment when the country clad itself in gay bunting, and threw rockets to the sky for very joy that out of bloodshed there had come victory.

XIV.

_AT LIBERTY._

During the winter of 1863-4, the portion of the Army of the Potomac which included our Regiment was encamped in a position to defend the railroad between Bealton and Warrenton, from attacks by guerillas, and the camp of the 32d was in close proximity to the village of Liberty, a very small place whose name meant, before the war, liberty to the white man only, and but for the “little unpleasantness” and its results, the name would have had no significance to men of color.

Liberty proved to be an agreeable camp for the 32d, for their rows of tented dwellings were pitched on a pleasant wooded slope where the ground was dry, with good drainage, an abundant supply of water near at hand, and soil less inclined to mud than in the greater part of the old Commonwealth of Virginia.

The picket duty was severe, as at this point there was a thoroughfare leading directly into the country of the enemy, and a railroad bridge, the loss of which would cause great annoyance to our own army by interrupting our line of communication, and cutting off one portion from its base of supply. But there was much to enliven us and break the monotony of camp life.

It was a little past midnight on the evening of the dance which was so rudely interrupted, that the long roll was sounded and, in scarcely more time than is necessary to write it, the Regiment was under arms and deployed in various directions for the protection of the camp. The disturbance was caused by a squad of rebel cavalry who had forced the picket line at a weak point, their presumable object being a raid on the United States paymaster, who came into camp that night to payoff the brigade; but the yankee soldier generally keeps picket with eyes and ears open, and whoever would cross his beat must have a feather tread. The paymaster (the late Major Holman), although the object of the attack, slept quietly through the whole uproar, and did not wake until morning. Apparently his safe might have been stolen and carried off without his being aware of it. We were out about two hours, when the enemy having been driven beyond our lines, we were sent back to our quarters.

An amusing incident occurred here one dark night which created quite a sensation on the picket line, at that time under command of Captain Farnsworth. Going the rounds at two o’clock A. M., posts eight, nine, and ten were found on the _qui vive_. They were stationed in the edge of a wood, where just across a narrow strip of grass-land there was another belt of forest. For some little time they had heard footsteps and other sounds which led them to believe that their posts were being reconnoitered by the enemy. After waiting some minutes and leaving orders that no aggressive movement should be made, but that in case any party should be seen to leave the opposite wood, the sentinels should order “halt,” and if not obeyed should fire, the captain passed on his tour of inspection. Before the round was completed he heard a shot from this direction, succeeded by perfect quiet, and when again at post nine the sentinel reported that he had done as directed, that some object had, in spite of his challenge, continued to approach, that he had fired and dropped the intruder, who or which, upon examination, proved to be a _mule_. Well, he ought to have halted.

It was from this camp that a night expedition was sent after deserters. Outside our lines, at distances varying from two to four miles, were several dwelling houses occupied by families for whose protection it was common to billet a man on the premises as a “safeguard.” Such men were not subject to capture on this neutral ground, and their posts were very desirable, as they were well cared for by those under their guardianship, and had little to do, plenty of leisure, and often very pleasant society. But there were troubles connected with such arrangements. The men in camp hearing of the attractions of these places so near at hand where coffee, salt, and other supplies were exceeding scarce, and where gifts of them were acknowledged by various favors--were tempted to slip over the lines, each with little parcels saved from his abundant rations, supplemented, perhaps, with a spare jackknife and a few needles, to seek adventures among the natives. The fact that they ran the risk of capture and imprisonment probably added zest to such escapades, but was of itself a good reason why they should be prevented. In fact, it was within this very territory that Major Edmunds and his orderly were captured.

At the roll call at retreat, March 31st, 1864, it appeared that several men were “unaccounted for,” and there was little doubt as to the cause of their absence. The colonel, who had previously considered the propriety of some action on his part, was now at the end of his patience, and determined to put a check upon the practice. Sending for an officer who was at that time serving on a general court martial, and consequently not considered “for duty” in the Regiment, he told him of his wishes and offered him the command of the detachment which should make a detour through a portion of the neutral territory, and search for and, if possible, capture the missing men.

A detail of twenty-eight men was finally made from nearly twice that number who volunteered for the duty. Included in this number was one man who had been on safeguard duty in the neighborhood that we proposed to visit, and who could act as a guide to the party.

The party were in light marching order, each man with a day’s rations and forty rounds of ammunition in the cartridge boxes, and it left camp an hour and a half before midnight, at which hour it was intended to reach the house of Colonel N----. The path was a narrow forest roadway, and for the greater part of the distance led through what was known as the “three-mile wood.” The night was moonless and very dark, and the detachment filed on, mile after mile, always on the alert and suspicious of every sound, until at last, and in good time, they reached the cleared land about Colonel N.’s “palatial mansion.” Deploying an advance guard they proceeded with the utmost caution to surround the house, and but for the dogs, who challenged loudly, the purpose would have been readily accomplished; but the inmates were speedily astir, alarmed by the baying of the hounds, and lights danced about from window to window. Whether rebel soldiers were among the occupants or not could not be told, but soon men came out at the doors, and their footsteps could be heard as they ran, but no one could see ten feet away to distinguish a man from a tree.

Orders had been given not to fire without command, and to give chase in the darkness would risk the loss of men without any good result. The party therefore went on cautiously to surround the house, and men were posted in such manner as to command all approaches to the mansion, with orders to halt and arrest whoever attempted to enter or to leave. After these guards were posted, the remainder, under a sergeant, were marched away for a half mile up the road, making considerable noise as they went, and then halted to await orders. In the meantime the squad about the house was kept quiet in the darkness, out of the way of any light from the windows. After ten minutes had elapsed the door of the mansion was opened and some one looked out, thinking, no doubt, that the disturbers were well away. Then, as if the door opening had been a signal, the sound of footsteps was heard approaching slowly through the dry leaves and twigs in the woods; then a whispered conversation, and again the steps approached. A moment later two men came on, until, when within five feet of the commander, they were halted with the order, “Surrender, or I fire.” At first they turned, evidently with the intention of escaping, but changed their minds, saying, “Don’t fire, we surrender.” These proved to be two of the men of whom the expedition was in search. They had been in the house, and had started at the alarm, thinking that the troops were from the rebel lines; had waited until, as they supposed, the detachment had passed on its way, and then were going back to the house. Leaving these men under guard the house itself was summoned. The door being opened by a woman, and the lady of the house called for, four of the party entered and were referred to a beautiful and accomplished young lady of perhaps twenty years. Miss N. received them courteously, but declared upon her honor that no men from our camp had been in the house that day or evening. She was informed as politely as possible that there was an error in this statement--that two such men had already been secured, and that search would be made for more. This resulted in the arrest of a third man, and having bagged him and apologized for the disturbance that had been caused, the party moved away.

“While life lasts,” says the captain, who commanded, “I shall not forget the flash of the young lady’s eyes when I questioned her assertion. I have often thought that if every southern soldier had to look for approval or disapproval into such a pair of eyes, it was no wonder victory often perched on their banners when the odds were against them.”

At half past two in the morning the party was back again in camp with three prisoners, and found that two others who ran from the house had returned of their own accord. All of these were of course technically deserters, but none were severely punished. The result of this expedition was to put a stop to a practice by means of which valuable information, no doubt, reached the enemy.

XV.

_OUT ON PICKET._

Picket duty may be the most agreeable or it may be the most disagreeable of all the duties of a soldier, but it is always an important, and is often a dangerous one.

Picket-guards are formed by details on orders from headquarters. Sometimes the guard will include the entire regiment, or details from several regiments, but if the orders are from the battalion headquarters, it is usually composed of detachments from several companies. The officers are detailed from the adjutant’s roster and the designation of the enlisted men from each company devolves upon the first or orderly sergeants. The officers, non-commissioned officers and men, are supposed to be taken for duty in rotation, and woe befall the unfortunate orderly who designates one of the confirmed growlers out of what he considers his turn, as laid down on his own time-table, and many are the threats heaped on the head of the sergeants, which happily are never executed.

Under command of the ranking officer, the detachment is marched out and posted to guard the line assigned to its protection--usually there is merely a chain of sentinels who are relieved at regular intervals of time from the main body; but sometimes, and always in the case of detached outposts, the men are divided into groups of three or more, under the supervision of the non-commissioned officers of the guard, while the commander of the whole line establishes reserves at points convenient for reinforcing it in case of need, and assigns to the subalterns the command of various portions.

Relieved from the wearisome round of camp duties and parades, and placed where each man has his own responsibilities, and must exercise his own judgment, picket duty often becomes an acceptable change, both for officers and men. In the warm season the men make a sort of picnic of their tour, and out on the front edge of the occupying army they can frequently obtain articles of food, which, although common enough in civil life, are real luxuries to those who have been limited in their diet to the rations issued in the army. They bask in the sunshine, or loiter in the shade--and when it is their turn for repose, the jackknives are busy and the chat is lively.

Sometimes our picket-line would be on a river, the opposite bank of which was guarded by the enemy, and there would be times of unofficial truce when we traded over the stream coffee for tobacco, etc., and when we even made visits to each other, and talked as freely as if we might not at a moment’s notice be enemies again.