CHAPTER XII

LOST COLORS RECOVERED

In addition to our heavy loss of men at Fredericksburg was the loss of our colors, the stand whose staff had been shot away in my hand as described in a former chapter.

It can be well understood that we felt very keenly the loss of our flag, although we knew that it had been most honorably lost. It was known to have been brought off the field in the night by Corporal William I. D. Parks, Company H, one of the color-guard, who was mortally wounded, and left by him in a church used as a temporary hospital. Corporal Parks was removed to a hospital at Washington, where he died shortly afterwards, and the colors mysteriously disappeared. The act of this color-bearer in crawling off the field with his colors, wounded as he was to the death, was a deed of heroism that has few parallels. We made every effort to find the flag, but without success, and had concluded that it must have been left in Fredericksburg, and so fallen into the hands of the enemy, when a couple of weeks after the battle, on returning from a ride down to Falmouth, I noticed a regiment of our troops having dress parade. I rode near them, and my attention was at once attracted to the fact that they paraded three stands of colors, a most unusual circumstance. My suspicion was at once aroused that here were our lost colors. Riding closer, my joy was great on recognizing our number and letters on their bullet-and shell-tattered folds, "132 P. V." Anger immediately succeeded my joy as I saw that our precious colors were being paraded as a sort of trophy. This flag, under whose folds so many of our brave men had fallen, and which had been so heroically rescued from the field, exhibited to the army and the world as a trophy of the battle by another regiment! It was, in effect, a public proclamation of our cowardice and dishonor and of their prowess in possessing what we had failed to hold and guard, our sacred colors. It stung me to the quick. I do not remember ever to have been more beside myself with anger. It was with difficulty that I contained myself until their ceremony was over, when I rode up to the colonel, in the presence of all his officers, and in a voice which must have betrayed my emotion, demanded to know why he was parading our colors. His reply was, "Those are the colors of a d----d runaway regiment which my men picked up on the battle-field of Fredericksburg." My hair and whiskers were somewhat hot in color those days, and I have not kept a record of my language to that colonel for the next few minutes. I sincerely hope the recording angel has not. Still, I am sure it was the explosion of a righteous indignation.

Full of wrath I galloped at topmost speed to camp and made known my discovery to Colonel Albright. If I was "hot," what shall be said of him? Of a fiery, mercurial disposition, his temper flew in a moment. He mounted his horse and bade me lead him to this regiment. The brave heralds who carried "the good news from Ghent to Aix," did not gallop faster than did we two, and the wicked fellow who was hired to say two dollars' worth of "words" for the Quaker did not do his work a bit more effectively than did my brave colonel in denouncing the man who had made that charge of cowardice against our regiment. Well, he began to hedge immediately. He evidently saw that there was trouble ahead, and offered to give us the colors at once, but Colonel Albright peremptorily refused to accept them that way, and said he would demand a court of inquiry and would require full and complete vindication, cost what it might. A court of inquiry was at once asked for and granted. It was made up of officers outside of our division, and was directed to investigate the loss of our flag, and how it came into the possession of this other regiment. Colonel Albright was a good lawyer and conducted his own case before the court. It came out in the investigation that in making his report of the part his regiment took in the battle of Fredericksburg this colonel had used substantially the same language he had to me concerning how he came into possession of the flag. Here is the paragraph referring to our colors, taken from his report printed in the "Rebellion Records," vol. xxi., page 275:

"I would also state that some cowardly members of a regiment unknown (?) abandoned their colors, which were recovered by Captain Northrup, of my regiment, and saved the disgrace of falling into the hands of the enemy." My diary notes that I interviewed this Captain Northrup, and he promptly stated that he took the colors from the hospital and brought them with him when their regiment left Fredericksburg. He said he did not know how they got into the hospital, but supposed a wounded sergeant had left them there. He disclaimed any idea of their having been abandoned in a cowardly manner, and could not understand why his colonel had made such a declaration. The statement that his men rescued them from an unknown regiment was false upon its face, for our name was inscribed on its folds in plain letters, "132d P. V." Why he made such a statement, and why he treated the colors as he did, I could never understand, for had the statement been true it was outrageously unmilitary to proclaim to the world the cowardice of one of our own regiments. It was his duty to promptly send the colors to head-quarters, with a statement of the facts, so that the alleged runaways could be properly disciplined. As it was, it seemed a most contemptible effort to secure a little cheap, unearned glory. It was heartlessly cruel and unworthy of a brave soldier.

The result of the court of inquiry was a full and complete vindication of our regiment, as shown by the following paragraph from an order issued by Major-General O. O. Howard, commanding the Second Corps: "The last color-bearer, badly wounded, left his regiment after dark, and in the town entered a church used as a hospital, taking his colors with him. He was carried away from this place and the colors left behind. The very fidelity of the color-bearer holding to his colors as long as he was conscious was the occasion of their loss to the regiment. Not only no fault should be found with this regiment, but it should receive unqualified commendation."

General French, commanding our division, published this order to the division, adding the following: "As the commander of the division, and knowing the character of the One Hundred and Thirty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers, which has fought under my eye in two of the bloodiest engagements of the war, and which has the highest encomiums from its brigade commander, General Kimball, who knows what brave men are, I have deemed it my duty to make this record to go with whatever may have transpired in reference to this subject during my short absence." The above paragraphs were taken from Bates's "History of Pennsylvania Volunteers." The colors were ordered returned to us with proper military honors. They were brought to General French's head-quarters by a military escort from that regiment, and I had the satisfaction of officially receiving them with a like escort from our regiment, commanded by First Lieutenant J. D. Laciar, of Company G. The ceremony was to us a joyous and impressive occasion. It took place in the presence of General Alfred Sully, temporarily commanding the division, and staff, and our brigade officers. The two escorts were drawn up, facing each other. The order of Major-General Howard, above referred to, was read. This was followed by a little speech from General Sully, in which we came in for some more praise; then both escorts presented arms, whilst their color-bearer transferred the colors to ours, and the ceremony was over. A happier escort never marched than was ours bearing home those restored colors.

The weather was now getting very cold, and we set about making ourselves as comfortable as possible in camp. The men were allowed to fix up their tents as best they could without much regard for architectural beauty or regularity. Some of them dug cellars four to five feet deep, made puncheon floors,--that is, floors made of split logs smoothed off and laid the flat side up,--whilst the sides were made of logs plastered up with mud. Mud fireplaces were made with old barrels for chimneys. The roofs were canvas, of course, but fairly waterproof. A favorite bit of horse-play of the men at this time was to watch when the occupants of some tent were having a good time, and smoke them out by throwing a wet blanket over the top of their barrel chimney. In about a second the smoke would be almost dense enough to suffocate, and every fellow would pile out and hunt for the culprit. Woe be unto him if they found him. A favorite ruse on the part of the culprit was to plunge into his tent and be placidly snoring when the victims began their hunt. Sometimes the simulation would be too sonorous, and give him away, and then he had trouble on hand for the next hour. The ingenuity of these sons of Belial in their pranks was beyond description. I have laughed until absolutely exhausted many a time. How did I know so much about them? Well, I had two of the liveliest of these boys in my office as clerks, and, as they were generally in the fun, I was kept posted, and to tell the truth, as long as it did not seriously transgress, and there was fun in it, I knew nothing about it "officially." Often have I seen these boys put up a job on some fellow quietly sleeping, by smoking out his next-door neighbors and then directing their attention to him as the culprit. To see him hauled out of a sound sleep and mauled for something he was entirely innocent of, vehemently protesting his innocence, yet the more he protested getting the more punishment, the rascals who put up the job doing most of the punishing, I have nearly split my sides. Of course, no one was seriously hurt. The victim knew enough to keep his temper, and in the end enjoyed the lark as well as the rest. I speak of these things, for they were the oases in army life and drudgery. Except for them it would have been unendurable. Seldom were things so bad but that some bit of raillery would relieve the strain and get up a laugh, and everybody would feel better.

We had a young fellow in one of the companies who was certainly the most comical genius I ever saw. He was known by a nickname only. No length of march and no severity of service could curb his spirits. When all were down in the dumps this fellow would perform some monkey-shine that would make even a horse laugh, and all would be in good spirits again. Colonel Albright used to say he was worth his weight in gold. He was with us until after Fredericksburg, where he was either killed or wounded, and I do not remember to have seen him afterwards.

I have spoken of the men's winter-quarters. We officers had our wall tents, and had them fixed up with puncheon floors also, and sheet-iron stoves, so that as long as we kept a fire burning all were fairly comfortable. But wood fires would last but an hour or so without replenishing, and so during the night we had great difficulty in keeping warm. Some of the coldest nights my clerks and myself took turns in keeping up our fire. I rather prided myself on the construction of my bed. It was made of two springy poles held in place by crotched sticks driven into the ground. On the poles nailed crosswise was a bottom made of barrel-staves, the hollow side down, and on these was laid a bed of hay, kept in place by some old canvas sacking. On cold nights the only article of clothing we took off was our shoes or boots. Then rolling ourselves in our blankets, with gum blanket outside tucked well around our feet and the whole surmounted with our overcoats, we managed to sleep pretty well. These puncheon floors were all the proceeds of foraging. No lumber of any kind was furnished by the government. The men cut the trees and split the logs wherever they could find them. Most of them were "backed" into camp anywhere from one to four miles.

After this little of note occurred in camp until Christmas. We had made ourselves as comfortable as we could with the materials at hand, which were not in super-abundance. The weather was what we were told was characteristic of Virginia winters,--rather mild, slush and mud, with its raw, disagreeable dampness, being the prevailing conditions. It was exceedingly trying to our men, and many, in consequence, were on the sick list. My diary notes that on Christmas day we actually had a little sunshine, and that by way of adding good cheer to the occasion a ration of whiskey was issued to the men. The ration consisted of a gill for each man. Each company was marched to the commissary tent, and every man received his gill in his cup or drank it from the measure, as he preferred. Some of the men, who evidently were familiar with the intricacies of repeating in ward elections, managed in various ways to repeat their rations of this vile stuff until we had a good deal more than a gill of whiskey's worth of hilarity in camp. However, the noise was winked at, believing it would soon subside and pass off. All drills were suspended and the men were allowed passes freely out of camp, being required to be in quarters promptly at taps. The officers passed the day visiting and exchanging the compliments of the season. The wish for a "Merry Christmas" was about all there was to make it such. I remember our bill of fare for Christmas dinner consisted of boiled rice and molasses, "Lobskous" and stewed dried apples. The etymology of the euphonious word "Lobskous" I am unable to give. The dish consisted of hardtack broken up and thoroughly soaked in water, then fried in pork fat. I trust my readers will preserve the recipe for a side dish next Christmas. One of the boys, to show his appreciation of this extra fare for Christmas dinner, improvised the following blessing:

"Good Lord of love Look down from above And see how a soldier's grub has mended,-- Slushed rice, Lobskous, and shoat, Where only hardtack and hog were intended."

The day was not without its fun, however. Among other things, an impromptu foot-race was gotten up between the Fourth New York and our regiment. The former regiment, with which we were now brigaded, was from New York City, and in its general make-up was decidedly "sporty." They had in their ranks specimens of almost all kinds of sports, such as professional boxers, wrestlers, fencers, and runners. One of the latter had been practising in the morning, and some of our boys had remarked that "he wasn't much of a runner," whereupon they were promptly challenged to produce a man who could beat him, for a cash prize of twenty dollars in gold. Win or lose, our fellows were not to be bluffed, and so promptly accepted the challenge. Back they came to camp with their "bluff," to look up a man to meet this professional. So far as our men were concerned, it was another case of the Philistine defying the armies of Israel. Where was our David? All hands entered into the fun, from the colonel down. The race was to be a one-hundred-yard dash from a standing mark. We found our man in Corporal Riley Tanner, of Company I. He was a lithe, wiry fellow, a great favorite in his company, and in some trial sprints easily showed himself superior to all of the others. He, however, had never run a race, except in boys' play, and was not up on the professional tactics of such a contest. It was decided that the affair should take place at five o'clock P.M., on our regimental front, and should decide the championship of the two regiments in this particular. The course was duly measured and staked off, and was lined on both sides by a solid wall of the men, nearly our whole division being present, including most of the officers. If the championship of the world had been at stake, there could hardly have been more excitement, so much zest did every one put into it. On the minute the Goliath of the bloody Fourth appeared, clad in the most approved racing garb. He was a stockily built young Irishman, and looked decidedly formidable, especially when our poor little David appeared a moment later, with no other preparation than his coat and cap off and pants rolled up. Nevertheless, our boys thoroughly believed in him, and we all gave him a rousing cheer. The signal was given and away leaped our little champion like a frightened deer, literally running away from the professional from the start and beating him leisurely in the end by more than a dozen feet. Great was the furore which followed. The victor was carried on the shoulders of his comrades of Company I triumphantly back to his quarters, and afterwards through all the company streets, the victim of an immense popularity. Corporal Tanner, scarcely beyond his teens, was a good, brave, and true young man, popular with his comrades and faithful in all his duties. Was this little race, so short and gloriously won, prophetic of his life's brief course? He came home to survive but a few years, and then die of injuries received in the service. He was as much a sacrifice upon the altar of his country as if he had been killed in battle. He was long ago laid to rest in a soldier's grave. But he still lives in the hearts of his comrades.

Here let me say a few words of our "friends, the enemy," we had just beaten, the Fourth New York. Its colonel was a Scotchman named McGregor, and he was a true McGregor, a splendid officer. He was in command of the brigade after Colonel Andrews was wounded at Fredericksburg, until himself disabled by a wound. His lieutenant-colonel was a captain in the New York police force when he entered the service, and after the war as Inspector Jameson he achieved a national reputation. He was a splendid fellow personally, and physically a king among men. He stood six feet two inches, beautifully proportioned, square, and straight as an Indian, with heavy jet black hair and whiskers, and an eye that I imagine could almost burn a hole in a culprit. He could be both majestic and impressive when occasion required, and was more gifted in all these things than any man I ever knew. The following incident will illustrate his use of them. I met him in Washington whilst returning to my regiment the day before the battle of Fredericksburg. I joined him just before reaching the wharf where we were to take the boat. He had been up to Washington on a day's pass, all any one could then get, and had for some reason overstayed his leave. I think he had missed his boat the day before. In consequence he could not get a pass through the lines to go back. I asked how he expected to get through the provost guard. "Oh, that's easy," he said. "Just watch me go through," and I did. There was a double guard at the entrance to the boat and a sergeant and lieutenant examining all passes. Jameson threw his cape over his shoulders to conceal his shoulder-straps, put on one of his majestic airs, looked the officer through, as much as to say, you do not presume to question my rights here, and waved him and the guards aside, and deliberately stalked aboard, as though he commanded the army. I came meekly along behind, pass in hand. The officer had by that time recovered himself sufficiently to ejaculate, "Who the h----l is that--general?" I repeated the ejaculation to the colonel afterwards to his great amusement. He was all right, and on his way to rejoin his regiment, where he was wounded next day, splendidly doing his duty. Because he had overstayed his leave twenty-four hours, red tape would have required him to remain in Washington, submit to a court-martial or court of inquiry, and probably after three or four weeks be sent back, duly excused, the country being deprived of his services in the mean time.

Well, to get back to Christmas. After the foot-race the men were given free rein until ten o'clock P.M., and passes out of camp were not required. As the evening wore on, it became evident that John Barleycorn had been getting in some extra work, from the character of the noise emanating from the company streets, and I became somewhat nervous about it. Lieutenant-Colonel Albright's tent adjoined mine, and I could see that he was becoming a little exercised over this extra noise. The fear was that we might get a peremptory summons from division head-quarters to "explain immediately the causes of the unusual noises emanating from our regiment, and why it is not suppressed." Just about ten o'clock there was an extra outburst, and I noticed Colonel Albright, with sword dangling, pass rapidly out of his tent and down towards the company streets from whence the noise came. I feared trouble, and slipped on my boots and followed as quickly as possible. But before I reached the scene, the colonel had drawn his sword and ordered all the men to their quarters, at the same time striking right and left with the flat of his sword, hitting two of the men. One proved to be a sergeant who was trying to quell the noise and get his men into quarters. The latter resented the blow and made a sharp retort to the colonel, who immediately repeated it, whereupon the sergeant struck him a terrible blow in the eye with his fist, knocking him down. I got there just in time to see the colonel fall, and immediately seized the sergeant and placed him in arrest. He was handed over to the division provost guard. The colonel was found to be seriously hurt. His eye swelled up and turned black and gave him great pain all night. And it was several days before he recovered the use of it.

The most serious thing about this unfortunate culmination of our Christmas festivities was not only the breach of discipline, but the present status of this sergeant. He was an exceptionally good non-commissioned officer, with a splendid record in both battles and in all service, yet he had now committed an offence the punishment for which, in time of war, was death,--viz., striking his superior commissioned officer. The next day Colonel Albright reported the affair to General French, commanding the division, who promptly advised him to prefer charges against the culprit and make an example of him. The matter was generally discussed by both officers and men in camp, and although it was felt that the sergeant had committed a grave offence, yet that the colonel was in a measure responsible for it. The latter was justly popular with all as a brave officer and good man, yet he had been guilty himself of an offence which had brought upon him the blow he had received. He had no right to strike a soldier as he did, even with the flat of his sword. Nor was it the proper thing for him to take the place of his "officer of the guard" or "officer of the day" in enforcing his own orders regulating camp discipline. He should have sent for the latter and required them to do their duty in the matter. As a matter of fact, this was just what the officer of the day was doing when the colonel appeared. The colonel sent for me next morning, on his return from General French's head-quarters, and freely told me of the advice of the latter, and indicated his purpose to proceed.

This splendid man has long since entered into rest. No truer man or braver officer entered the service than he, and it has been one of the greatest satisfactions of my life that I was able to possess his confidence to the fullest degree. He invited my views now and he afterwards thanked me for the service I then rendered him by opposing his contemplated action. He was still suffering very much from his injury and was in a poor mood to brook opposition. Nevertheless I felt that if he subjected this man to the possible results of a court-martial, later on he would never forgive himself, and I so told him. I reminded him of the mistake he had made in assuming the duties of his "officer of the day," and of his graver error, if not offence, in striking the men; that such action would be very likely to produce similar results with almost any of the men upon whom it might be committed; that he had failed to respect the rights of his men even in matters of discipline, and that all this being true, it would be a mistake he would always regret if he failed to treat this affair in as manly and generous a way as discipline would permit. It was an occasion of keen regret that I had to differ with Colonel Albright, for I really loved the man. He dismissed me rather cavalierly with his thanks for my drastic frankness. By his direction a meeting of all the officers of the regiment was summoned to meet at his head-quarters in the afternoon to give their views as to the course to be pursued. The question, as submitted by the colonel being one purely of discipline, seemed to admit of but one treatment,--viz., court-martial; and this was the unanimous sentiment as expressed in this meeting, although outside, I well knew nearly all had expressed themselves differently. Perhaps the way the colonel took to get their views was partly responsible for his failure to get their real feelings. He began with the youngest lieutenant and asked each officer up to the senior captain, what he thought the offence merited. The answer was, "I suppose court-martial." None seemed willing to accuse the colonel of his own error, and to have answered otherwise would have involved that, so they simply replied as above.

The colonel said, after all had given their answers, that the adjutant did not agree with him nor them, and called on me to state my position, saying I was to be excused, as he supposed the sergeant was a personal friend. Whilst it was true that I had known him at home, I disclaimed being influenced by that fact in this matter. The colonel, to my relief, adjourned the meeting without announcing his determination. I felt sure that a little more time would bring him to my way of thinking, and so it turned out. I saw the sergeant over at the provost-guard tent, and found him very anxious about his situation and thoroughly sorry for his hasty conduct towards the colonel, whom he sincerely respected. He said he felt terribly hurt at being so roughly treated. He was not to blame for the noise, but was actually doing his best to quiet the noisy ones and get them into quarters when the first intimation he had of the colonel's presence was the blow from his sword. He said this blow hurt him and roused his anger and he replied sharply, and on getting the second blow he struck without stopping to think of the consequences. I told the colonel of this conversation, and said if he would permit this man to express to him personally his sorrow for his conduct, and, under the circumstances, restore him to duty with no greater punishment than a loss of his rank as sergeant, I felt sure he would win the hearts of all the men and do an act he would always be glad of. Two days later, to my great joy, he ordered me to prepare an order practically embodying my recommendations, the order to be read at dress parade that day, and the prisoner to be publicly released at that time. I think I never performed a more willing or difficult task than reading that order on parade that afternoon. Just before the ceremony, the sergeant had been brought by the provost guard to the colonel's tent and had, in a manly way, expressed his sorrow for his act. The colonel had stated this fact to the regiment, and then directed me to read the order releasing the prisoner and restoring him to duty. The tears blinded my eyes and my emotions almost choked my voice as I tried to read, and I doubt if there was a dry eye in the ranks when I had finished. The outcome of the unfortunate affair was exceedingly satisfactory. The colonel, always popular, had now the hearts of all--officers and men.