It was by a mere accident that the regiment did not become actively engaged in the battle. On the afternoon of the 13th, the division of General Burns was ordered to support General Franklin’s corps; in moving towards Franklin’s position,it became somewhat exposed to the artillery fire of the enemy, and Lieutenant Carpenter of Company H (Twenty-ninth), was slightly, and James L. Pettis of Company E severely, wounded. The other regiments of the Brigade (Christ’s) suffered some loss, the Twenty-seventh New Jersey, which was next the Twenty-ninth in the line, losing seventeen killed and wounded.40
After the Brigade retired from its advanced position, on Sunday the 14th, it formed near the gas-works, on the outskirts of the city. The enemy, from the heights beyond the town, occasionally threw a shot towards our lines, many of which struck the gasometer,—an iron structure,—glanced off with great fury, tearing away pieces of the iron, and throwing them about in various directions.
All during the 15th, the regiment had direct orders to hold itself in readiness to march at a moment’s warning. After dark, the men were directed to roll up their blankets, and were cautioned against lighting their pipes or kindling fires. All orders were passed along the line in low tones. It was apparent that some movement of importance was on foot, and it was soon discovered that our army was falling back across the river, a movement that was attended with great danger, inasmuch as the enemy was close at hand, and the river only passable by means of pontoons. Late in the afternoon, after it was decided to recross the river, the regiment was directed to remain until the other troops of the corps had crossed, when it was to remove three small pontoon bridges that had been thrown across a canal or creek which ran between the Rappahannock and the enemy’s works, and then emptied its waters into the river. The Brigade commander, Colonel Christ, intimated that he considered the undertaking a hazardous one, and scarcely worth the risk. The corps commenced crossing shortly after dark, the regiment remaining in its position until all were fairly across, and then moved forward and a considerable distance to the left, and commenced at once the work assigned to them. A captain, with a sufficient number of men, was detailed for each bridge, and the work went on rapidly and noiselessly, the regiment mean-whileremaining in line of battle, ready for any emergency. It was remarkable that a work of this nature could be done so quietly; but the men, as well as the officers, fully realized the necessity of stillness. Only once in the course of the labor was any noise made, and this was caused by the falling of a plank against one of the boats. Even this noise was not great; but it seemed to the anxious listeners like a peal of thunder, that was likely to be followed by the crash of the enemy’s muskets. Fortunately it did not arouse the enemy; but it called out a large bloodhound, with powerful voice, which came running down to the opposite shore of the creek, and commenced baying and howling, keeping up its savage cries till the work was ended, annoying the men greatly, as they suspected that the next yelp would be followed by the enemy’s charging yell. Finally, after what seemed an age, but which in reality was only a short time, the three bridges were all removed, without the loss of a single piece, and the boats successfully floated across the Rappahannock. If the enemy had moved forward,—and it is surprising that they did not,—the result would have been disastrous to the regiment, perhaps cost it its very existence; and had this result followed, the attempt would have been deemed an act of folly. As it was, the plan was successfully carried out, and the regiment was warmly congratulated.
The first streaks of the morning light appeared in the eastern horizon before the men, worn by the fatigues of the night, reached their old camping-ground, on the northerly bank of the Rappahannock. The regiment escaped this battle with but two casualties; but had it remained with the Irish Brigade, which was at the front, and suffered terribly, probably nearly half its members would have been killed or wounded. To this circumstance chiefly,—one over which none of its officers had the slightest control,—it owes this remarkable piece of good fortune.
On the 21st of December, died Chaplain Hempstead, after a short illness. The position of a chaplain in the army was a peculiar one, and by many practical minds the office was regarded as one of doubtful utility, there seeming to be very little natural connection between the sacred and delicate duties of the saving of human souls and the stern and bloody workof man-killing. Neither the Act of Congress which provided for the appointment of chaplains, nor the Army Regulations, prescribed their duties, any further than to provide that they should render to the colonels of their regiments quarterly reports of “the moral and religious condition of the regiment, and such suggestions as may conduce to the social happiness and moral improvement of the troops.” Though the duties of these officers were not particularly specified, yet a conscientious chaplain had abundant chances to render great service in both a moral and social way. Such a chaplain was the Rev. Henry E. Hempstead. He was ever at the bedside of the sick and wounded soldier, attended to the distribution and forwarding of the mails (a service more keenly appreciated than most others by the soldiers), and in a thousand other ways endeared himself to the members of his regiment. He was the cherished companion for a long time of the heroic Arthur B. Fuller, Chaplain of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, and, strangely enough, the tragic death of the latter preceded that of Mr. Hempstead by only a few days.
On the 21st, the entire regiment was detailed for picket service on the river below Fredericksburg. The enemy’s pickets were on the opposite shore, and during the night threw up rifle-pits on the bluff. The soldiers of the two armies had been so long together in the various campaigns in which they had been engaged, and so often witnessed each others’ bravery and devotion, that a feeling of mutual respect, not to say regard, had grown up between them. Whenever the pickets of the respective armies got within speaking distance of each other, this feeling prompted them to talk and enter into an agreement for a temporary truce. The usual preliminaries for a parley and a chat began in this wise: “Say, Yank, want to talk?” “Yes, Johnny,” replies the Union soldier; and then followed a mutual agreement not to fire, and following this, oftentimes, a protracted conversation about their experiences in battle, what they had to eat, the merits of their respective officers, how they liked the service, in which frequently a large number on each side would take part. Sometimes grave questions of state were discussed, and not unfrequently the conversation was enlivened by jokes, stories, and “twitting on facts.” These parleyswere carried on without the knowledge of the officers on either side, and were finally forbidden. On the night in question, the Twenty-ninth “boys” found the Confederate pickets as friendly as they had been before the battle, and the result was, that they sat down on the shore and had an old-time chat, which was kept up nearly all night.
On the 23d, General Sumner reviewed his grand division, composed of the Second and Ninth corps, the ceremony lasting nearly all day.
The campaign having closed with the battle of Fredericksburg, the work of preparing winter quarters for the army began soon after. Each company was divided into squads, and each squad was charged with the work of preparing its own hut. The prospect of having a comfortable abode at that, the most inclement season of the year, furnished a sufficient incentive for each man to do his “level best”; and the amount of Yankee ingenuity displayed in the preparation of these winter homes was as instructive as it was pleasing in its results; logs were cut in the adjacent forests, and these, cut into suitable lengths, formed the walls of the house, while the tent was used for a roof. Inside of these, chimneys and fire-places were constructed, as well as comfortable bunks, and long before the close of the year, Falmouth was a city of log-houses, containing a population of over one hundred thousand veteran soldiers.
On the last day of the year, the regiment was mustered for pay, an event always of deep interest to the men, but peculiarly so on this occasion, as it witnessed the close of another year of their service in the army, and brought them nearer to the welcome day when they would be permitted to bid good-by forever to the hardships, toils, and dangers of army life. The year that expired on that day had been singularly eventful, as must needs be all years of war. The regiment had been engaged in not less than ten pitched battles, besides many skirmishes; it had marched on Norfolk, travelled up and down the Peninsula, navigated the Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac, marched to Centreville, tramped nearly the entire length of the State of Maryland, and, passing down the Loudon Valley, had penetrated almost to the Virginia seaboard. Many of its most cherished and bravest soldiershad fallen by disease and the bullet; but with all these losses and bitter fortunes, it had not lost its flag or its honor. The Twenty-ninth was now in its truest sense a veteran regiment. Its services during the year which then closed had enabled it to spread upon the public military record of the Commonwealth a most flattering testimonial of its bravery from one of the generals under which it had served in the field.
We conclude this chapter by giving the following letter to Governor Andrew, relative to the regiment:—
“Headquarters Irish Brigade, Hancock’s Division,}“Second Corps, Army of the Potomac,}“Camp near Falmouth, Va., Nov. 19, 1862.}“ToJohn A. Andrew,Governor of Massachusetts.“Sir: In accordance with the desire of the Governor of Massachusetts, and circular received, I have the honor to state that the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers joined my command at Fair Oaks, on the 9th of June, 1862; since which time they have been under my command, and are still a regiment of the Irish Brigade....“In relation to the physique and morale of the men composing the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers, I have the honor, and to me a pleasure, to state they are obedient, vigilant, and reliable, ever ready for every duty; while in the field, under my own eye, they have been unsurpassed as soldiers, brave and heroic. Their loss is no indication of their valor, for uncontrolled circumstances and location will favor, or be more fatal, as these circumstances may happen. Of the field-officers of the regiment, I have to state nothing but the most cordial feelings have ever existed between them and me. They severally have my entire confidence and good wishes. They have ever been found at their post, and in readiness for the most arduous duties. Colonel Ebenezer W. Peirce, who lost an arm in the battle of White Oak Swamp, has my sympathy, and in so soon rejoining his regiment for duty, proved his readiness to be where a soldier should be,—at the head of his regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph H. Barnes is a soldier of the true type, in whom I have a perfect and implicit reliance. Brave and honorable, he is a credit to his State. Major Charles Chipman, likewise, is a soldier of first-rate order, and has borne himself as a true man and a patriot on the field, and as a pattern to the men of the regiment in all times of trial, never flinching from any of the duties or responsibilities of the severest campaigns of modern times. Of the line and staff officers, I can only state they all perform their duty becoming true men and brave. Massachusetts need never be ashamed of such citizens or children. Their identity with the Irish regiments of my command has been most pleasing, cordial, and the fraternity of feeling is admirable in the extreme. Massachusetts shakes hands with her adopted citizens in their devotion to a common country and a common flag. They will stand by them together until victory crowns their endeavors, and harmony is restored to the Union.“As an incident of the cordial feeling existing in this brigade towards their brother soldiers of the Massachusetts Twenty-ninth Volunteers, I have to state that at a meeting of the officers of the old New York regiments, held some time since, they voted to their brother soldiers of the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers a green banner, emblematical of the particular brigade in which they so honorably serve, and of the cordiality of feeling which exists between them. This banner is now on its way, and will shortly be presented to the Twenty-ninth by General Edwin V. Sumner, a commander proud of the Irish Brigade, and a son of old Massachusetts.“The only way that I know His Excellency can aid this fine regiment, is by filling it up to the maximum standard by her native and adopted sons.“I have the honor to be, most obediently and respectfully yours,“Thomas O’Neill,Major and A. A. G.,“For Brig. Gen.Thomas Francis Meagher,Commanding Irish Brigade.”
“Headquarters Irish Brigade, Hancock’s Division,}“Second Corps, Army of the Potomac,}“Camp near Falmouth, Va., Nov. 19, 1862.}
“ToJohn A. Andrew,Governor of Massachusetts.
“Sir: In accordance with the desire of the Governor of Massachusetts, and circular received, I have the honor to state that the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers joined my command at Fair Oaks, on the 9th of June, 1862; since which time they have been under my command, and are still a regiment of the Irish Brigade....
“In relation to the physique and morale of the men composing the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers, I have the honor, and to me a pleasure, to state they are obedient, vigilant, and reliable, ever ready for every duty; while in the field, under my own eye, they have been unsurpassed as soldiers, brave and heroic. Their loss is no indication of their valor, for uncontrolled circumstances and location will favor, or be more fatal, as these circumstances may happen. Of the field-officers of the regiment, I have to state nothing but the most cordial feelings have ever existed between them and me. They severally have my entire confidence and good wishes. They have ever been found at their post, and in readiness for the most arduous duties. Colonel Ebenezer W. Peirce, who lost an arm in the battle of White Oak Swamp, has my sympathy, and in so soon rejoining his regiment for duty, proved his readiness to be where a soldier should be,—at the head of his regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph H. Barnes is a soldier of the true type, in whom I have a perfect and implicit reliance. Brave and honorable, he is a credit to his State. Major Charles Chipman, likewise, is a soldier of first-rate order, and has borne himself as a true man and a patriot on the field, and as a pattern to the men of the regiment in all times of trial, never flinching from any of the duties or responsibilities of the severest campaigns of modern times. Of the line and staff officers, I can only state they all perform their duty becoming true men and brave. Massachusetts need never be ashamed of such citizens or children. Their identity with the Irish regiments of my command has been most pleasing, cordial, and the fraternity of feeling is admirable in the extreme. Massachusetts shakes hands with her adopted citizens in their devotion to a common country and a common flag. They will stand by them together until victory crowns their endeavors, and harmony is restored to the Union.
“As an incident of the cordial feeling existing in this brigade towards their brother soldiers of the Massachusetts Twenty-ninth Volunteers, I have to state that at a meeting of the officers of the old New York regiments, held some time since, they voted to their brother soldiers of the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Volunteers a green banner, emblematical of the particular brigade in which they so honorably serve, and of the cordiality of feeling which exists between them. This banner is now on its way, and will shortly be presented to the Twenty-ninth by General Edwin V. Sumner, a commander proud of the Irish Brigade, and a son of old Massachusetts.
“The only way that I know His Excellency can aid this fine regiment, is by filling it up to the maximum standard by her native and adopted sons.
“I have the honor to be, most obediently and respectfully yours,
“Thomas O’Neill,Major and A. A. G.,“For Brig. Gen.Thomas Francis Meagher,Commanding Irish Brigade.”
The Weather—On Picket Near the Rappahannock—The “Mud Expedition”—The Ninth Coups at Newport News—The Regiment Goes to Kentucky—Reception at Cincinnati—Life in Paris, Ky.—Scouting—March to Somerset, Ky.
January came in with a series of pleasant days, but with heavy frosts at night. On the 10th, however, there was a cold rain-storm, and the weather which immediately followed this furnishes a good idea of the character of a Virginia winter. Before the next morning, the wind changed to the north, freezing hard the wet earth; before noon of the 11th, the sun came out bright and warm, and, in the course of a few hours, the ground was like a quagmire, and the roads almost impassable. The first day of the year was made a holiday for the army.
January 5, a detail was made from the regiment for picket duty on the river, consisting of two commissioned officers and sixty-five enlisted men. Captain Tripp, who had charge of part of the pickets on this day, gives an excellent account in his diary of what he saw of the enemy’s lines. With the assistance of a powerful field-glass, the day being fine and the atmosphere free from fog, he could discern the enemy’s entire position. As far down the river as the aided eye could reach, were seen their camps and camp-fires: this was the Confederate right wing. Westward were numerous columns of smoke rising up out of the woods, denoting the presence of a large army. As the glass was turned a little farther in the latter direction, the eye fell upon a collection of fresh-looking mounds, under which reposed the gallant dead of Franklin’s corps; for this was the spot where his soldiers fought so bravely, and where so many went down in the storm of the battle. Near the place where Franklin crossed the river on the morning of the 13th of December, were long lines of entrenchments, while still nearer the bankwere numerous rifle-pits, and, gathered about them, squads of Confederate soldiers, clad in their butternut uniforms, closely watching our lines. Yonder was a brick house, having the appearance of the headquarters of a general, for about it stood a number of horses, and arriving and departing were several mounted orderlies. Directly in front of the building was a battery of brass field-pieces. In the rear of the house, on rising ground, were two redoubts and a line of entrenchments. Then, in another direction, were seen the ruins of the railroad bridge, which once during the battle was gained and held by our troops, but which they finally yielded after a desperate struggle.
A little at the left of the town was a large house, riddled with shot and shell, the red flag placed there by our surgeons still flying from its roof. At some distance in the rear of this house rose a high hill, crowned with a line of entrenchments having embrasures for ten guns, and behind all these, still a higher hill with five redoubts, at the right of which were three more redoubts, with embrasures for four guns, the several redoubts being so arranged as to enfilade the fire of each other. This whole region was, in short, a network of powerful fortifications, intricate and impregnable,—a fact which shows how difficult was the task of General Burnside, and makes still more prominent the bravery of our soldiers of the Army of the Potomac, who, on that cold December morning, moved forward to the hopeless assault with cheers.
During the day of the 5th, some of the pickets belonging to our regiment endeavored to start a conversation with the Confederate pickets, on the opposite bank, but without much success. Finally, one of our soldiers asked the Confederates the name of their regiment; the inquiry was answered by writing on a piece of white paper, in large black characters, “17th Virginia,” and holding it up to view. This encouraged another of our soldiers to make a boat of a piece of board, rig it with a rude sail, freight it with coffee and newspapers, and send it across to the enemy’s side. After a little delay, the boat was returned, loaded with Virginia tobacco and late Richmond papers.
It often happened, after the first year of the war, that the troops were not regularly paid. This was occasioned chieflyby the unsettled condition of the army, and its frequent movements. At the time of which we are speaking, the regiment had not received any pay for a series of months; and although it may not be readily understood by the general reader how soldiers could make much use of money in the army, where they were provided with food and clothing, yet they were always in need of something which the Government did not furnish, and there were few situations in which the opportunities to spend money were not equal to the soldier’s means. The few provident ones who always contrived to save their wages,—some with a view to speculate in a small way,—had plenty of chances, during such times of financial embarrassment as this, to loan money at high rates of interest. This loaning of money was a very common practice among the soldiers, and the careful accounts which they kept with each other, and the character of some of the charges made, were extremely ludicrous. The writer remembers of having seen one of these accounts, which had on a single page twenty charges, none of which exceeded ten cents, and several were as small as one cent. This was not, however, because the soldiers were penurious, but because their pay was small, and each had plenty of uses for the little money he received.
On the night of the 16th, the regiment received orders to “pack up,” and be ready, with three days’ cooked rations, to move at an early hour on the following morning. Everybody was out bright and early the next morning, completing arrangements for the expected march, for it was no slight task to prepare a regiment to move, especially after it had been long settled in camp. A day of excitement was passed; but yet the order to march did not come. No one knew what was contemplated, though everybody surmised that it was another forward movement, and as usual, when there was a prospect of a fight, the men retired at night singing patriotic songs with new life and vigor.
Sunday the 18th went by in very much the same manner as the day before. During the morning, however, Franklin’s grand division moved up the river, all in high spirits. This heightened the excitement in camp, and gave still greater force to the rumor of a forward movement, which was fully confirmed at night by the reading, on dress-parade, of GeneralBurnside’s order, announcing to the army that it was once more going to meet the enemy in battle.
Monday morning came, and with it a storm of wind and rain, which increased as the night approached. At three o’clock the next morning, orders were received that in consequence of the storm, the tents would not be struck till specially ordered. There was no improvement in the weather during the three succeeding days; and on the 21st, it was generally understood that the whole movement was abandoned. Such proved to be the fact, and, on the 22d, the trains and troops began to return; that is, that portion of them which managed to get out of the mud, for much of the artillery, and some of the heavy wagons, could not be moved for several days. The enemy in large force were encountered at Banks’s Ford, and it was reported that one of their skirmishers hailed one of our skirmishers with the facetious inquiry of why we didn’t come before it rained, as they had been patiently waiting for us for several days. This movement was generally known as the “Mud Expedition.”
On the 26th, General Burnside was relieved of his command of the army by General Hooker. On the 28th, Major Chipman rejoined the regiment, after several months’ absence caused by sickness. On the last day of January, Major M. S. Stone, the new paymaster, made his appearance, for the purpose of paying off the regiment, causing great rejoicing, but for some reason, did not pay the entire amount then due the members.
February 5, the regiment received orders to be ready to embark for Fortress Monroe without delay. Major-General William F. Smith relieved General Sedgwick in command of the Ninth Corps, and was ordered to report with that corps to General Dix. February 8, General Burns was relieved of his command of the division, and was succeeded by General Willcox; on the same day there was a temporary change in the command of two of the companies of the regiment; Captain Brooks being relieved of the command of Company D and ordered to Company G, and Captain Richardson assuming command of Company D.
The departure of the regiment did not take place till the 12th of the month, though each day it had received orders tomarch, which were as often countermanded as issued. The men were aroused at four o’clock in the morning of the 12th, and at five o’clock marched to Falmouth Station, where, after some delay, they took the cars for Aquia Creek Landing, arriving there before noon. At this place the regiment embarked on the transport steamer “Hero,” which also took on board Company B of the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Regiment, a squad of the One Hundred and Third New York Volunteers, several of the corps officers, and for freight fifty horses and several tons of baggage; the steamer also towed down into the bay a schooner laden with mules and army wagons. At night it was rough weather, the wind blew hard, and the transport came to anchor off “Piney Point,” starting again the next morning. Before night of the 13th, the steamer had entered Hampton Roads, and come to anchor under the walls of the old fortress. Soon after arriving, Colonel Barnes, then in command of the regiment, went ashore for orders, but received none, making it necessary for the officers and men to spend another night on the crowded transport. On the morning of the 14th, the Colonel again went ashore, and this time received orders to report to General Willcox at Newport News. After some delay, the transport steamed up the James River, and at two o’clock in the afternoon the regiment landed and marched through the fortifications, halting on the banks of the river and forming its camp not far from the old “Brick House.” The barracks erected by the Battalion in the autumn of 1861 had been torn down. With this exception Newport News looked very familiar, and one of the officers remarked at the time, “It seems as though the war is over, and we have all at last returned home.”
By a strange combination of circumstances, the regiment had now been brought to this distant camp for the third time in its history. Its first service here was in 1861, when it knew nothing of war or its hardships; the second at the close of the exhaustive Peninsular campaign; and this, the third, at the close of three other campaigns, in each of which it had reaped its full share of glory and suffering. Newport News had become a camp of no mean proportions; in the river was lying a formidable fleet of war-vessels, among themthe “Galena,” and one double-turreted monitor. “Merrimack No. 2,” then at Richmond, and occasionally showing itself far up the river, as if it was about to make a raid upon our shipping in Hampton Roads, was doubtless the principal cause of this assemblage of the navy, though a military camp could not safely be maintained here, with the enemy in possession of Richmond and the opposite shore, without the aid of one or more vessels of war. A small burial-yard had been established some months before the regiment left Newport News, in May, 1862; but now it had grown to be a mammoth city of the dead; a large portion of the plain between the old camp of the Twentieth New York Regiment and the signal station was covered with soldiers’ graves. Soon after the arrival of the Ninth Corps at Newport News, General Getty’s division was transferred to Suffolk, where the enemy under Longstreet were making serious demonstrations. This withdrawal of Getty’s division reduced the corps to two divisions,—one under the command of General Orlando B. Willcox, and the other under General Samuel D. Sturgis; and the corps was commanded by Major-General John G. Parke.
While the regiment was here, the following commissions were issued: First Lieutenant Abram A. Oliver as Captain, from January 10, 1863; Second Lieutenant J. O’Neil as First Lieutenant, from November 1, 1862; Second Lieutenant John M. Deane as First Lieutenant; Sergeant-Major Hunting as Second Lieutenant. The reception of a commission was made the occasion of a pleasant social gathering among the officers, and certain things were done in connection with the affair which in the army were termed “pinching the commission.” Although our knowledge of the nature of these proceedings is somewhat limited, yet we should judge that some term of a liquid nature would express their character better than “pinching.” There had been several changes among the officers of the regiment prior to this, that should be mentioned at this time. Surgeon Brown left the regiment early in 1862; Assistant Surgeon Cogswell was made Surgeon, August 7, 1862, and Albert Wood of Tewksbury, Assistant Surgeon, July 31, 1862; James C. Bassett, Assistant Surgeon, August 20, 1862; First Lieutenant Alfred O.Brooks, Captain, December 6, 1862; First Lieutenant Daniel W. Lee, Captain, January 14, 1863; Second Lieutenant Charles A. Carpenter, First Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Second Lieutenant George W. Taylor, First Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Second Lieutenant Augustus D. Ayling, First Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Second Lieutenant Henry S. Braden, First Lieutenant, January 27, 1863; Second Lieutenant John B. Pizer, First Lieutenant, January 11, 1863; Second Lieutenant William W. Pray, First Lieutenant, January 14, 1863; Second Lieutenant James H. Atherton, First Lieutenant, March 22, 1863; Sergeant Peter Winsor, Second Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Sergeant George H. Long, Second Lieutenant, November 23, 1862; Sergeant George W. Pope, Second Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Sergeant Thomas Conant, Second Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Sergeant William H. Phillips, Second Lieutenant, November 2, 1862; Sergeant George D. Williams, Second Lieutenant, January 27, 1863; Sergeant Frank Goodwin, Second Lieutenant, January 11, 1863; Sergeant William F. Pippey, Second Lieutenant, January 14, 1863; Sergeant Thomas F. Darby, Second Lieutenant, March 22, 1863; Sergeant Chas. G. Boswell, Second Lieutenant, March 22, 1863.
On the 25th of February, the corps was reviewed on the old parade-ground—where the Twenty-ninth had often drilled in times past—by General John A. Dix, then in command of the department of Fortress Monroe, the review occupying from ten o’clock in the morning till three o’clock in the afternoon. The corps was destined for active service in the West, and the six weeks spent at this place were almost wholly occupied by company and regimental drills. No duty in the army was so odious to the veteran as that of drilling; he considered it the worst form of the “red tape” regulations of military life, and always went about it reluctantly. There was no little ground for this belief; the majority of the soldiers were very proficient in these matters, and when their pride was strongly appealed to, they never failed to acquit themselves creditably.
On the evening of March 17, there was great excitement in camp because of an order from headquarters for each man to be supplied with forty rounds of cartridges and twentyextra rounds, two days’ cooked rations and two days’ uncooked, and the regiment to be ready to move at a moment’s warning. This gave the rumor manufacturers plenty of business; immediately the story spread through the camp that the troops were to move up the Peninsula; that the Army of the Potomac was falling back to Aquia Creek; and another, that the corps was going to Suffolk; and while these wild stories were passing from mouth to mouth, an order came countermanding that part of the former order in regard to the cooking of rations. There was a slight abatement of the excitement for two days, when (19th) the regiment struck its tents and marched down to the Landing, expecting to go on board the steamer “City of Richmond,” which was lying in the river. Only a part of the officers and men went on board the boat that night, the rest taking up their quarters in the old log barracks formerly occupied by the Second New York. Those who remained on shore had a cold, wet time, for it snowed hard all night and part of the next day. Every preparation having been made, on Saturday the 21st, the balance of the regiment went on board, and in the afternoon of the same day the boat started down the river. Colonel Pierce, who had long been absent in Massachusetts, and Captain Leach, who had but recently recovered from his sickness, contracted in June, 1862, joined the regiment this day; and Major Chipman, whose health had again become seriously impaired, left for home on a short leave of absence, Captain Doten assuming the duties of Major.
On the 23d, the steamer reached Baltimore, and the regiment immediately took the cars for the West, travelling all night, and the next morning reaching Harper’s Ferry, where a pause of two hours was made for breakfast. After leaving Harper’s Ferry everything was new to the men, many seating themselves upon the tops of the cars in order to get a better view of the country. Massachusetts soldiers could not be satisfied with passing through any section of the country for the first time without being close observers of every house and garden on the route, and every striking feature of natural scenery; the letters of the comrades written about this time are filled with interesting accounts of their journey. They were passing through a region where the people were loyalto the old flag, and as the train swept along, the occupants of the houses and the lonely forest huts greeted them by waving their hats and shouting words of welcome. Whenever a pause was made at the villages, the people turned out in mass and treated the troops with food and drink; at Grafton, West Virginia, some of the men made the important discovery that whiskey was selling at the moderate price of five cents a glass.
On the 25th, the train reached Parkersburg, on the Ohio River, and here the regiment left the cars and embarked on the river-boat “Eclipse,” for Cincinnati. The sail on the river, which occupied about twenty-four hours, was greatly enjoyed. Though there were other New England and Eastern regiments in the Ninth Corps, yet it is stated that the Twenty-ninth was the first from either of these sections to enter the department of the West during the war. The fact that Massachusetts ranked first among all the States of the Union in its devotion to the cause of the Government, as well as its prominence in the earliest days of the war, added greatly to the curiosity of the people of Cincinnati to look upon a regiment bearing the time-honored and historic Pine-tree flag; when the steamer, therefore, hauled up to the levees in that city, and it became known that she had on board a Massachusetts regiment, thousands of people left their homes and thronged about the landing, eager to obtain a glance at the soldiers. What is still more pleasant to record, is the fact that the thousands of men and women who had gathered here were actuated by a better motive than mere curiosity, as nearly every one seemed eager to confer some favor upon the soldiers. The giving of food, which is always the first prompting of human hospitality, was the principal thought of the people; and as the men filed off the steamer and marched up the broad avenue into the city, they were feasted at every step. The regiment proceeded to a large hall, where a banquet of the most substantial character was spread before them; and when the dinner was over, the committee of citizens under whose direction it had been served, bid the soldiers take with them to the steamer the remnants of the feast. The appearance which they presented as they marched down to the boat, every soldier bubbling with joy and satisfaction, and carrying in his hands or slungover his shoulder a loaf of bread or a large ham, was indeed very ludicrous, and furnished an occasion for much mirth. During their brief stay in the city, several of the officers availed themselves of the opportunity of doing a little trading at the stores, which were well filled with a fine assortment of goods. One of these relates the following incident: Knowing that the regiment was going again into the field, he obtained a prescription from the Medical Director for several varieties of medicines needed by soldiers in that climate. Taking his prescription to one of the best druggists in the city, it was faithfully filled; but when he presented the druggist with money, was blandly told by the latter, that they “took no pay from Union soldiers at that store.” The same officer made other purchases, such as clothing, and in every instance received the articles either at cost or gratuitously. At that time troops were constantly entering and leaving the city, and every incoming and outgoing regiment was treated in this liberal manner.
On the evening of the day alluded to (March 26), the regiment crossed the Ohio and landed at Covington, Ky., where, after a brief delay, on the same night, it took the cars on the Kentucky Central Railroad and started for Paris, eighty miles distant. A night’s ride brought the regiment to the outskirts of the city, but it did not enter the place till the third day of April following. On the way to Paris, two companies were left at one of the railroad stations, where they served as a guard for several days, finally joining the regiment in Paris.
The entire corps had been ordered into Kentucky for the sole purpose of repressing the operations of certain bodies of guerillas under the notorious partisans, Morgan, Wheeler, Pegram, Clute, and others. These bands had for more than a year previous to the arrival of the Ninth Corps, been constantly engaged in raiding over this portion of Kentucky, known as the “Blue Grass” region, the most fertile part of the State, and consisted of bodies of irregular volunteer cavalry, principally Kentuckians. These guerillas made it their object to plunder every Union man within their reach, of cattle, horses, and grain, and conveying the captured property into the lines of the Confederate General Bragg; in other words, they were engaged in foraging for the Confederatearmy. When pursued, they would retire into the mountain fastnesses of East Tennessee and Southwestern Virginia, where they became reasonably secure from molestation.
Only a year before the arrival of General Burnside at Cincinnati, these irregular Confederate troops were in occupation of Paris and other places in central Kentucky, and lorded over the people in the most despotic manner, persecuting the Unionists, laying contributions upon them whenever their fancy or avarice dictated; and although some of the larger places, such as Paris and Somerset, had been for some months garrisoned by Federal troops, yet these guerilla bands were moving over the country far and near, sometimes even dashing up to our picket lines and firing upon them.
Here and there throughout the region were wealthy planters, who, from the selfish desire to save their property, or from fealty to the Confederate cause, harbored and protected these roving bands, giving them food and quarters. These persons who harbored armed enemies were included in the terms of the famous General Order, No. 38, issued by General Burnside, and by the terms of that order were reckoned as spies and traitors. The particular clause which covered these planters was as follows: “All persons within our lines, who harbor, protect, conceal, feed, clothe, or in any way aid the enemies of our country.”
The camp of the regiment was formed quite near the village, and in the vicinity of two important railroad bridges. Its location also commanded the Lexington Road, over which large amounts of stores were daily transported. On Sunday the 29th, a large majority of the men marched with their officers to church, in the village, an incident that at once gave them a high reputation among the good people of the town, and opened the way for the very friendly relations that afterwards existed between them and the inhabitants. On the first of April, an order came for the regiment to pack up and march to Lexington, capital of Fayette County, twenty-five miles south of Paris, on the Covington and Lexington Railroad, and General Ferrero’s brigade was to take the place of the Twenty-ninth and the other troops at Paris. At this juncture, the kind feelings of the citizens for the regimentserved it in good stead; for as soon as it became known that it had been ordered away, a meeting of the people of the town was called, at which it was decided to request General Burnside to countermand the order. A telegram to this effect was sent to him, and this generous action was supplemented by the circulation of a petition of the same import, which, after being numerously signed by the citizens, was at their request forwarded to the General at Cincinnati, by a committee headed by one Dr. Griffin. The petition was favorably considered, and General Ferrero’s brigade was sent to Lexington instead. On the 3d of April, the regiment moved into the town, seven of the companies occupying the court-house, and the others adjoining buildings. Colonel Pierce was given charge of the post, and Colonel Barnes had command of the regiment, with his quarters near the court-house.
The people of Paris were intelligent and cultured, and the place was the residence of some of the finest and the wealthiest old families in the State. The Hon. Garrett Davis, United States Senator from Kentucky, Cassius M. Clay, and Brutus Clay, had their homes here; and among many others worthy of mention were Major Duncan, a most intense Unionist, Drs. Griffin and Barnes, and the mayor of the town. All these gentlemen became much devoted to the officers and men of the regiment, and showed them numerous attentions. Mr. Davis repeatedly called in person upon Colonel Barnes, and cordially invited both him and his officers to dine; and Major Duncan and many other citizens did the same. It was but natural that these educated people of Paris, who had been accustomed to associate a uniform with a guerilla or a loafer, should, upon acquaintance, have had their feelings of respect for the soldiers of Massachusetts greatly increased, for they found, even in the ranks, graduates of our high schools, academies, and normal schools; and among the officers, several graduates of colleges, gentlemen of the learned professions, of the trades, and of the arts.
One of the duties imposed upon the regiments here was to break up and capture the marauding bands of which we have spoken, and to arrest every person who aided or abetted their lawless acts. Two or three of the persons who had been conspicuousfor their excesses had been singled out by name, and their arrest expressly directed by the commander of the department. It was in pursuance of these directions that several expeditions were formed from time to time, one of which we deem of sufficient importance to describe with considerable detail.
On Saturday the 4th of April, Colonel Barnes received information that a small party of guerilla chiefs, who had been engaged for some time past in firing upon our videttes, killing and wounding several, were quartered at the house of one Talbut, a wealthy farmer, who lived several miles from Paris. Just after nightfall of the 4th, the Colonel called for twenty volunteers to accompany him on a secret expedition. The men readily volunteered, and, together with Lieutenants Ripley, Taylor, and Long, and a guide, the party started upon their excursion. The night was not altogether favorable for such an enterprise, as the moon was shining brightly, and every object upon the white, shelly roads could be seen at a long distance. After proceeding several miles on the pike, they reached a covered bridge. The guide informed the officers that the house of Talbut was on the opposite side of the river, and close by. To facilitate the surprise, and create as little bustle as possible in the neighborhood, which was known to be the favorite haunt of a large body of the guerillas, the officers dismounted and picketed their horses in the bushes near the stream, and all silently passed over the bridge. The house of Talbut, a large farm mansion, sat back from the highway an eighth of a mile, while between the house and the road was an extensive corn-field.
The guide pointed out the place, and a sergeant and squad of men were directed to proceed carefully to the house and guard each door and window; and when this was done, Colonel B. and Lieutenant Ripley, and several of the men, went up to the front door and knocked. After some delay, Mr. Talbut came to the door and demanded to know who was there. Colonel B. replied, “Federal officers.” Talbut said he should decline to admit them. The house was immediately entered, however, and in the front room was found a bed, and lying in it a whiskered man, apparently fast asleep. “Who is this?” Answer: “A Mr. Sullivan from Ohio, theteacher of our village school; he is our boarder.” “Get up, Mr. Sullivan, and dress yourself!” was the command; and a guard was left in the room to see that the order was obeyed. Then followed a search of the other rooms, which promised to be fruitless, the party once giving it up and returning with the family to the lower part of the house, Mrs. Talbut in the meantime engaging the officers in conversation, endeavoring to encourage the belief in their minds that her husband was a strong Unionist, while both herself and her daughter sympathized with the Confederates, though she protested that they had never in a single instance given them aid or shelter. Upon consultation, the officers concluded to make another search, and calling for a light, ascended the stairs. Going into one of the back chambers, they discovered a small door in one corner of the room, that, upon examination, proved to open into a clothes-closet. The place was dark, and the small hand-lamp threw but a feeble ray of light into the room. Colonel B. took a musket from one of the guard, and thrusting the bayonet upwards to the ceiling, removed a scuttle door. Mr. Talbut was then called up-stairs to explain matters. He became much excited, and exhorted the officers not to enter the closet with the lamp, and insisted that there was no room above the one they were in. A chair and table were brought, and a soldier climbed up through the opening in the ceiling; the lamp was handed to him, and after some delay he discovered two men crouching under the eaves. He called to them, but they made no answer, evidently thinking that the soldier called at random, as it was difficult to distinguish objects in the dim light. “Order them down, and if they refuse, shoot them!” shouted the Colonel. “I surrender! don’t shoot!” cried some one in the attic, who began crawling on his hands and knees towards the scuttle, and, with the assistance of the soldier, came down. This man had been wounded in one of his legs, and upon being questioned, confessed that he belonged to Colonel Clute’s guerillas, and had been wounded only a few days before while attempting to pick off the Federal pickets near Paris. The second command brought from his hiding-place a tall, well-built, proud-looking man of about thirty-five years, who came down the opening rather leisurely, saying, “I am only an inoffensivecitizen, and I ask why I am hunted in this way.” “Why do you hide in this way, if you are inoffensive and guiltless?” was the reply. This was a poser, and elicited no response. The “inoffensive citizen” was evidently a character. His movements were quick and nervous, and he seemed to be studying the character of his pursuers, and measuring his chances of escape. Mr. Talbut was ordered under arrest, and preparations were being made for immediate departure, when one of the guard came hurriedly into the house, and, going to the Colonel, whispered something, and darted back to his post. The soldier had come in to inform the Colonel that a body of Confederate cavalry had just that moment driven across a portion of the farm, and some of them had been seen to go to the stables. Standing at the door were the whole family, and three prisoners, all talking and protesting their innocence. Silence was commanded, the wounded prisoner was paroled, the two others and Talbut were ordered to “fall in,” and the whole party at once started for camp, making the best time possible, and arriving at our outer picket station just before the break of day on Sunday the 5th. No pursuit on the part of the Confederate cavalry was attempted, or if attempted, was too tardy to be observed, and the adventurous little band came in safely with their prisoners, who proved to be of more importance than was then supposed. They were sent to Cincinnati, where they were tried and convicted by court-martial. The man “Sullivan” turned out to be an officer in Clute’s guerilla band, and the “inoffensive citizen” no less a person than a famous spy in the Confederate service.
General orders from the headquarters of the department authorized the taking of private property for military purposes; but in every instance where such property was taken, the owners were given receipts which enabled them to recover pay from the Government, on proof of loyalty. The guerillas, who learned of this practice of our officers, and who seemed to have had a waggish turn, on one occasion seized a lot of fine horses belonging to some of the farmers of Bourbon County, and gave the owners receipts over the forged signature of Colonel J. H. Barnes.
On the 12th of April, information was brought by one ofthe Government spies, that a body of Confederate cavalry was contemplating a raid upon the Union citizens of Middletown and vicinity. After dark, Colonel Barnes set off with about one hundred men, and by a rapid march reached Middletown by daylight the next morning. The Confederates had actually started upon their raid, but learning of the approach of the Federal troops, suddenly fled. This affair caused a wide-spread feeling of alarm among the Unionists, and when our men reached the town, the greatest excitement prevailed. The people were overjoyed at the arrival of our troops, and came thronging into the streets to meet them, each one reciting his or her complaint of abuse and robbery by the guerillas, and telling their well-grounded fears of future molestation. This was a new and strange experience for our comrades, and gave rise to a greater feeling of responsibility than they had ever known before. The terrible situation of these defenceless people, liable at any moment to be plundered of all they possessed, and perhaps murdered also, appealed strongly to the sympathies of the soldiers; and when the time arrived for them to return to Paris, it was with difficulty that they could resist the entreaties of the inhabitants of the town to remain longer. This furnishes a fair illustration of the condition of things in some of the border States during the late war; families were divided among themselves, actually at war with each other, and no man retired at night with a feeling of security.
Not long after the Middletown affair, orders were received to arrest three guerilla officers, one of whom was especially notorious. The parents and wives of two of these men lived some ten miles from Paris, and it was known that they frequently visited there; several night expeditions had been planned for capturing them, but without success. One of these excursions, participated in by twelve mounted officers of the regiment, nearly resulted in the capture of the officers by the guerillas, instead of the capture of the guerillas by the officers. On this occasion, an attempt was made by our officers to search a house occupied by the family of one of these guerilla chieftains; but as they were entering one of the chambers, the wife of the hunted enemy interfered by stating that there was a very sick woman in the room. Toavoid any impropriety whatever, Surgeon Cogswell, who was of the party, was called to examine that chamber; but he had scarcely stepped over the threshold, when another of the officers, who was stationed outside as a guard, came rushing into the house, and gave the alarm that a large body of horsemen were rapidly approaching. There was no time for consultation; the same thought, namely, that of getting away from the premises as soon as possible, came into the minds of all at once, and away they dashed for the pike road, eighty rods away, and on which the hostile party was moving. The night was dark, and our officers being well mounted and good horsemen, managed to make their escape, though they were several times nearly overtaken. The good-hearted Doctor probably never left the house of a sick person in so much haste as he did that night.
On the 16th of April, the Paymaster arrived, and the regiment, to the great joy of the men, received four months’ pay, ending March 1. At about this time there were some changes made in the roster of the regiment: First Lieutenant Nathan D. Whitman was appointed Quartermaster; First Lieutenant Henry S. Braden, Acting Adjutant; and Sergeant George H. Morse of Company C, Sergeant-Major.
Several public sales of negro slaves had been advertised since the regiment had arrived in Paris, but only one actually occurred. This was witnessed by a number of the men, and it made such an impression upon them, that they moralized upon the subject in their letters and diaries. This sale took place in connection with some mules and other stock, which seemed to add to its offensiveness.
On the 25th of April, the regiment received orders to join its brigade, but did not march till noon of the following day. The departure of the regiment again brought forth many expressions of kind feeling from the people of Paris. “They could not have exhibited more feeling,” says an officer, “if the regiment had been composed of their own sons, husbands, and brothers; and the officers and men looked and acted as if they were leaving home.”
The regiment, commanded by Colonel Barnes,—Colonel Pierce remaining in command of Paris,—took cars on the Kentucky Central Railroad to Nicholasville, and proceedingtwo miles beyond the town, encamped for the night. On the morning of the 27th, it broke camp and marched till four o’clock in the afternoon, spending the night at Camp Dick Robinson. By successive marches, it proceeded to Lancaster (28th) and Stanford (29th). At the latter place, the Brigade was found, and after shaking hands all around, the men, weary from constant marching, lay down for the night. The following morning the Brigade broke camp, and after a very fatiguing march of eighteen miles, during which the men were forced to throw away their knapsacks, went into camp at Carpenters Creek. The spot occupied by the regiment at this place was very remarkable in its physical features; the ground where the tents were pitched was a deep depression in the earth, formed like the bottom of a bowl, covered with a rich carpet of grass, while surrounding this vale were steep hills several hundred feet high, the sides of which were covered with a heavy growth of trees. As a tarry of some five days was made here, the officers and men occupied the most of their time in endeavoring to ascertain where they were. One of the officers, in a letter written here, stated that they were “seven miles this side of Liberty,” which was probably incorrect, but as near the fact as any of them reached. The Brigade at this spot was about three miles south of Houston, nearly fifty miles from any railroad, and was under General Carter, the major portion of whose command, together with the General himself, were at this time absent “raiding.”
Reveille was beaten at one o’clock on the morning of the 5th of May, and the order given to strike tents and prepare for a long march; a little coffee was made and some food prepared, and after snatching a hasty breakfast, the regiment started off in the midst of a drizzling rain. That day’s march was indeed a hard one; the roads all along the route were muddy and uneven; at least twenty streams were forded, and numerous rugged hills (knobs) climbed during the day; the whole distance performed was not far from twenty miles; and although a march of this length in Virginia would have proved very monotonous, yet through this country, unscathed by war, covered with fine farms, and bearing every evidence of peace and plenty, the journey, though long and wearisome,was very interesting. The camp was formed at night at a spot called Fishing Creek. On the following day, during a severe rain-storm, the regiment marched to within four miles of Somerset, the capital of Pulaski County, remaining here till Friday the 8th.
The people living in the country through which the troops had marched were almost wholly farmers, and favorably disposed towards the Government, not having been much disturbed by the political excitement that raged in the large towns and cities of the State.
Some of the soldiers of the regiment, while resting at this camp, visited the farm-houses near by, and in nearly every instance were made welcome, and invited to partake of food. One of the soldiers who supped with an old farmer named Lester gives the following as the bill of fare: Warm wheat biscuit, “corn dodgers,” milk, coffee, molasses (a native production), sugar made from the maple, and plenty of “hog” (the natives never speak of pork; it is either “hog,” “shote,” or “pig meat”). The house in which Lester lived was built of logs, and had but two rooms. All the clothing worn by the family was manufactured by Mrs. Lester, from wool, flax, and cotton of their own raising; and after supper she commenced work on a piece of cloth in the loom, and these Massachusetts soldiers witnessed, for the first time in their lives, the good old custom which at one time prevailed in every home throughout New England. The family of Lester was an old-fashioned one in point of numbers; there were ten children. The average Kentucky family, however, is about twelve; and on the march from Carpenter’s Creek, one family was found which numbered nineteen children, twenty-one heads, including the prolific parents, who were represented as being very contented with their lot and proud of their family.
On Friday the 8th, the regiment broke camp and marched to the suburbs of Somerset, a town of two thousand inhabitants, containing some fine private residences and several churches. The town had been twice occupied by the enemy, and many of its citizens plundered of their property; and although few, if any, of the houses had been burned, yet an indescribable air of dreariness and loneliness seemed to pervadethe whole place. The citizens appeared to be living under a constant apprehension of danger, kept themselves concealed in their houses much of the time, and so nervous were they, that one day when our batteries were engaged in target practice, the whole population was thrown into a state of great excitement, under the belief that a battle was in progress.
The camping-ground selected for the regiment was on the side of a hill, near the village, in the immediate neighborhood of which were other troops, two light batteries, one of mountain howitzers, the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Infantry, and a portion of Colonel Woodford’s Kentucky Cavalry. The latter was a very singular body of troops, and had a fame that extended throughout both Kentucky and Tennessee; it has been said that every name on its roll was represented by three men, two of whom were always at home, tending and watching their own and their companions’ crops. Their service in the regiment was by turns, relieving each other as do guards. This peculiar method of rendering military service was practicable, because the regiment rarely left the State, and was necessary on account of the constant liability of devastating raids of guerilla bands among the farming districts. Every man in this famous regiment was a rare character, and its commander pre-eminently so. Some of the orders which this officer was accustomed to give to his men could scarcely be found in any manual of tactics, the following being a specimen: “Prepare to git onto yeer creeturs! Git!” instead of, “Prepare to mount! Mount!”
There were still other troops in this vicinity beside those already mentioned, and it was generally supposed at the time that the Government could, with a few hours’ warning, concentrate at least 20,000 troops here.
A force of Confederates, variously estimated as to strength, was on the south bank of the Cumberland River, four miles from Somerset. The north bank of the stream was kept constantly and well picketed, and occasionally the river was crossed by our troops, and a raid made into the enemy’s lines. One of these expeditions, made by the Twenty-seventh New Jersey, of Christ’s Brigade, was attended by a painful accident; the stream was very rapid, and when the regimentwas returning, one of the flat-boats capsized, and thirty-three men, one captain, and one lieutenant were drowned.
The mails had been extremely irregular, and the soldiers felt quite lonesome and unhappy in consequence; they were in truth more isolated from the rest of the world than ever before in their service. There being no railroad nearer than eighty miles, it was seldom that they saw a newspaper, or obtained any reliable intelligence of passing events at the various seats of war. All the rations for the entire army were drawn in wagons from Stanford, a town in Lincoln County, thirty-five miles away; and as no food could be bought in Somerset, the men were obliged to subsist wholly upon army rations; a real blessing to them, but it was nevertheless counted as a great hardship.
On the 12th of May, the regiment received orders to march, and each man was required to have two days’ rations in his haversack; but they did not march. The order doubtless originated from one of the numerous alarms which were constantly stirring up excitement, the Confederate General Morgan being south of the Cumberland with a considerable force of cavalry and mounted infantry.
On the 25th, a more serious alarm arose; the enemy crossed the river and captured about forty of Colonel Woodford’s cavalry while the latter were on picket. One of the regiments of the Brigade was sent to the river with the howitzers; but the enemy made their escape.
While the regiment was in camp at this place, Captain Thomas W. Clarke reported for duty, after several months’ absence from sickness; and here, also, Assistant Surgeon Jameson joined us for the first time.
The Regiment Leaves Somerset and is Ordered to Vicksburg—March Over the Country to Nicholasville—Reception at Paris, Ky.—Goes to Cincinnati—The Journey to Cairo and Memphis—Down the Mississippi—A Brush With the Guerillas—Siege of Vicksburg and Surrender of the City—The “Daily Citizen.”
It seems to have been understood, from the day the regiment reached Somerset till it was finally ordered away, that its stay there was to be brief; scarcely a day passed that was not attended with rumors that the regiment was going to Paris, Cincinnati, Vicksburg, and many other places. Towards the latter part of May, all the sick of the Brigade were sent to Lexington, Ky., and an order promulgated reducing each officer’s baggage to thirty pounds (they were formerly allowed eighty), and restraining the enlisted men from carrying more than a single change of underclothing. On the 3d of June, another order came for the regiment to be ready to march at a moment’s notice, the men to take eight days’ rations. The movement was begun on the 4th, at about daylight in the morning, resulting in a long march (eighteen miles), and terminating at Waynesborough, in Lincoln County,—a little hamlet containing one tavern, three whiskey-shops, and five dwelling-houses. The pause here was only for the night, and the distance accomplished was but a small part of the long and weary journey yet to be performed.
On the morning of the 5th of June, the regiment was again ordered forward, making a brief halt at noon for dinner at a place known as “Hall’s Gap,” a pass in the mountains. The entire line of march from Somerset, north, lay through that portion of Kentucky so famous for its beautiful landscapes; some of the finest of these views were had from the summits of the hills. The plains were covered with extensive fields of waving wheat of a bright emerald hue, and large areas of the famous blue grass, the varied shades of green contrastingrichly with each other, and especially with the patches of red soil where the young corn was growing. Here and there, in the midst of this vegetation, were comfortable-looking farm-houses, surrounded by groups of towering sugar-maples in full leaf, the whole forming a picture of peace and beauty very tempting to the eyes of the foot-sore soldiers.
A march of three hours in the afternoon brought the regiment to Stanford, where it went into camp for the night, upon the same ground which it had occupied on the 29th of April. Here the Paymaster met the regiment and paid off the men, and here also a large mail was received. There was considerable straggling during the following day, the men not being contented to subsist upon the wholesome rations of the army; and having plenty of money, strayed about the country, visiting the farm-houses, buying milk and home-made bread. At night, when the regiment halted at Camp Dick Robinson, it was met by its sutler, one Mr. Sheepe, who had learned that the men were in funds, and had provided himself with a large stock of pies, cakes, and other “’lection truck.” He had been told only the day before that he must not sell intoxicating liquors; but despite these orders, the audacious Sheepe galloped off to a neighboring town and procured about eight dozens of Kentucky whiskey, which he now offered for sale, actually disposing of nearly a case at the enormous price of three dollars a bottle before the fact of his transgression became known at headquarters. Military law was often executed with as much swiftness as it was made; it was so in this case, and the greedy sutler’s unscrupulous speculation came to a speedy and profitless conclusion. The officer of the day (a member of the regiment) was equal to the occasion; the sutler’s team was instantly seized, and a guard set over it; Colonel Barnes was informed, and the officer of the day was directed to destroy the whiskey. Every remaining bottle was broken, and the contents spilled on the ground, the entire regiment and the most of the Brigade being deeply-interested spectators. The other goods were confiscated.
During the march of Sunday the 7th, the regiment acted as rear guard, and passed through a region which was more thickly settled than that already traversed. As was often the case on a long march, the soldiers were ignorant of the factthat this was the Lord’s Day, only being reminded of it by passing a church just as the congregation was dismissed.
Early in the afternoon Nicholasville was reached, and here the column halted for the rest of the day. A distance of seventy-one miles had been performed in less than four days, making an average march of over eighteen miles each day. Nicholasville was on the line of the railroad, and at an early hour on the morning of the 8th the men were aroused and ordered to take the cars for Cincinnati.
The people of Paris had learned that the regiment was to pass through their city, and they at once made preparations to receive them on a generous scale. The houses were gayly trimmed with flags and bunting, and a large concourse of people assembled at the depot. When the train arrived, the soldiers were greeted with hearty cheers, and invited to partake of a tempting collation prepared expressly for them. The pause here was very brief,—only an hour,—and by five o’clock that afternoon, the regiment was for the second time in Cincinnati, meeting with a reception scarcely less cordial than their first, and partaking of a good supper at the celebrated Market Building, the soldiers’ restaurant. It was generally known in the city that the regiment and its brigade had been ordered to join the besieging army of Vicksburg, and the desire of the people to see those who were bound on such an important mission, as also to render them some kindness, was so great, that they thronged around the building where the soldiers were supping in such numbers, that, when the time came for the regiment to leave, it was impossible to form the line in the streets. As soon as the men emerged from the building, hundreds of people rushed toward them, offering them food, flowers, and flasks of whiskey. So great was the confusion thus created, that it required all the efforts of the officers to form the line, and finally it became necessary to sternly order the citizens to clear the streets. This being done, the regiment at once took up its line of march for the depot of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, followed all the way by dense throngs of excited people.
Soon after dark, the men took the cars and started on their eventful journey. The patriotic spirit of the people living along the route was manifested in a manner that caused thesoldiers great joy, and strengthened their purposes to do their duty; wherever the train paused, the citizens crowded about the cars and regaled the men with food and drink; and at several stations, choirs composed of young ladies stood upon the platforms of the depots, singing patriotic songs as the train passed by.
At Washington, in Indiana, the train was stopped at the request of the people of the town, and a collation served; the committee of ladies that waited on the soldiers at the tables presented each with a bouquet and a nice lunch to take with them on their trip.
On the 10th, the train arrived at Cairo, Ill., and at three o’clock in the afternoon of the same day the various regiments embarked on river-boats,—the Twenty-ninth and Roemer’s New York Light Battery on the steamer “Mariner,”—and started down the Mississippi River. A stop of nearly three days was made at Memphis, it being supposed that the Brigade was waiting for orders. While here, the men made the most of their chance to study the city, strolled about its streets, and talked with its people. The statue of General Jackson, which stood in one of the parks, had been mutilated by the mob while the city was occupied by the Confederates; the historic words of General Jackson, “The Union—It must and shall be preserved,” inscribed upon its base, having been removed by a stone-hammer. Memphis was a busy place in those days; steamers laden with army stores, cotton, and troops, were constantly arriving and departing; and the city was filled with war rumors of every description.
The weather was pretty hot at this time, and the soldiers—whose destination was Vicksburg, some four hundred miles still farther south, in the midst of an unhealthy region—dreaded the experience in store for them, and expressed many hopes that the order sending them there might be countermanded; but no such good fortune was to be theirs; they were destined to breathe the poisonous malaria of the swamps of the Yazoo, infinitely worse than those of the Chickahominy, and share in the hardships and glories of that wonderful campaign.
On Sunday the 14th, the steamer “Mariner” and the other transports cast off from the pier and headed down stream,and now the question of destination became certain. Two river gunboats (tin-clads, boats covered with boiler-plate iron, musket but not cannon proof) accompanied the steamers as convoys, one going in advance, and the other following, a mile astern. At night the boats tied up to a tree, at White River Junction, where Sherman made his famous raid.
The next morning, the steamers cast off and continued their voyage down the river; Captain Leach was officer of the day, and two of the companies assigned to guard duty about the decks. The other officers of the regiment and the most of the men were below, the day being warm, when suddenly, about ten o’clock in the forenoon, a great commotion was heard on the upper deck. Colonel Barnes hastened to the deck, and observed that the transport just ahead of his, having on board a New York regiment, was sheering off towards the opposite bank, and at the same time the firing of musketry was heard. The captain of the boat began at once to get out his iron shutters, or casings, to place about the wheel-house, as a protection from balls; the commander of the battery, a fine officer, had taken the precaution to mount one of his pieces at the bows. The gunboats had become separated from the transports by quite a distance, and now the bullets were whistling about the decks of the steamer “Mariner” in a lively manner. A party of guerillas, concealed under the levee, were attempting, as they had often done before, to pick off the soldiers. The captain was directed to run the boat in-shore as close as the depth of water would permit. The commander of the battery loaded his gun with shell, and as soon as the boat got within fair range of the bank, fired, the shell exploding right among the enemy. The shell had no sooner burst, than the guerillas were seen scampering away, evidently much terrified, and not a little surprised that what they had taken to be an unarmed transport was supplied with a savage weapon in the shape of a cannon. This was the only interruption which the boats encountered during the trip, but greater watchfulness was afterwards observed. The night of the 16th was passed near a place called Providence, a very desolate region. On the afternoon of the arrival here, a strong wind, accompanied by rain, prevailed, and the boatwas blown upon a sand-bar, in which position it remained the most of the night.
At daylight on the 17th, the little fleet commenced on the fourth and last day of the voyage. Towards noon, just as a sharp bend in the river was passed, the gunboat in advance changed its course, and in a few minutes the whole fleet had left the Mississippi and was plowing the dark and sluggish waters of the Yazoo. The land on either side was low and swampy, covered with a thick growth of cypress and other trees, from the boughs of which were hanging long locks of greenish gray moss, giving the place a sombre appearance. In about two hours from this time, the boats reached a clearing on the right bank, when the white tents of a vast army were suddenly revealed. This was Snyder’s Bluff, or Milldale; the troops here encamped forming the extreme right flank of General Grant’s besieging army before Vicksburg. As the boats neared the landing, the soldiers on shore came flocking down to the bank to inspect the new-comers, and observing that their uniforms appeared to be new, immediately took them to be recently-mustered troops, and accordingly indulged in some disparaging remarks, little knowing that they were deriding the sunburnt veterans of the Peninsula, and the heroes of Antietam,—soldiers whose subsequent services before Vicksburg and at Jackson those rough but good-hearted men of the West learned to appreciate. Upon landing, a camp was formed about a fourth of a mile from the river, the Twenty-ninth occupying a position on the extreme right of the Brigade. A large portion of the Ninth Corps had been ordered here from Kentucky, and had arrived a few days in advance of the Brigade of Colonel Christ. The camp of the corps extended all the way from Haine’s Bluff to Snyder’s Bluff, and the service at first required of it was that of observation, rather than direct contact with the enemy. The army of General Johnston was hovering in the rear of Vicksburg, ready to strike our besieging army at any exposed and vulnerable point, and every precaution against such a misfortune became necessary.
No sooner had the corps arrived than the work of constructing fortifications commenced, and two entrenched lines were formed. The first extended along Oak Ridge, guardingthe roads that crossed the Big Black River; and the second in the rear of the first, extending from Haine’s to Snyder’s Bluff, through Milldale and the high ground east of Vicksburg, commanding all the approaches from the north and east; of this work the regiment did its full share. The weather was extremely hot, the sky for the most of the time cloudless; and it seems miraculous that men, natives of a northern clime, should have proved themselves able to toil under the rays of an almost torrid sun; yet such was the fact, and, stranger still, the health of the troops was unexceptionably good while here.
This labor was not constant, the regiments of the Brigade relieving each other at regular intervals, and working by details of one and two hundred men at a time. There was little of any other work to perform except the necessary camp guard and police service, and consequently the men had a large amount of “spare time” on their hands; but the life here was not monotonous, however, for although the corps was nearly eight miles from Vicksburg, the booming of Grant’s cannon was distinctly heard night and day, and the camp flooded with startling rumors.