At about twelve o’clock the next day, the column camped by division, some three miles from General Meade’s headquarters, about the same distance from Boonesboro’, and within sight of the immense train of the reserve artillery, at a place where the old bivouacs of the Army of the Potomac filled the air with the nauseating smells invariably incident to deserted camps. In this delightful spot we waited for the battle which was to be brought on.
All were in high spirits;—it was universally supposed that the rains had made the Potomac unfordable, “and that Lee was a goner this time sure;” but as hour after hour passed without a sound of the heavy cannonading which marks “the battle’s opening roar,” and rumor after rumor filled the air, the talk, as time lengthened, grew less and less hopeful, and finally during the afternoon we learned definitely that “the play was played out.” Lee was gone, boots and baggage, and our hopes of taking a hand in the contest which would probably have decided the war, were gone with him. Perhaps it was all for the best. If Lee gave battle, it would be on selected ground, against weary troops, where every man in the rebel army knew he was fighting with no hope of escape, andwould consequently resist to the utmost; under these circumstances, the contest, if not doubtful, would unquestionably have been bloody beyond all precedent; and many desolated homes, and empty places in the armories of the Empire City, would have mourned for those who would return no more.
We were now in the midst of the Army of the Potomac, and it is difficult for those inexperienced in such matters to form the least conception of the vast bulk of men and material which contribute to form that organization; yet, huge as it was, no confusion was visible, and everything went like clockwork, even during the difficulties of that hurried pursuit.
We only wished that the same could be said of us, but so far was this from being the case, that it was remarked by a regular officer that there was more destitution and suffering among our little division than among the whole Army of the Potomac, and no one acquainted with the facts can deny the correctness of the assertion.
It is impossible to express what a relief it was when we once became incorporated with this army; for to enter it, was coming once more from the scarcity and make-shifts of the backwoods, into the light of civilization. We found ourselves again among newspapers, and sutlers—people who could change a two-dollar bill and had things to sell; where greenbacks yet served as a medium of exchange, and provision trains were not more than two days behind time; and in our exultation, we even began to entertain vague hopes that, in the progress of events, our letters might be possibly forthcoming. It was now more than two weeks since a word of news had been heard, either from home or abroad; and we naturally were exceedingly anxious for a little information about matters and things in general. Our ignorance waspainful on almost every subject. Vicksburg, we knew, had been captured, but this was all; and even the battle of Gettysburg, fought right under our noses, and a common topic of conversation, was to us “a tale untold.”
On the 15th of July, our time was up, the rebels gone, and there being nothing more that we could do, General Meade told us “he was much obliged and we could go.” So, bidding General Smith a cordial good-by, we took up our line of march for Frederick City,and home; first, however, going a long way in the wrong direction, and having to countermarch back. This was nothing new, however, for, whether it was owing to ill luck, bad guides, indefinite orders, or stupidity, something of the kind took place at every movement that was ordered. The brigade never turned down a side-road, or took an unusual direction, without a general grumble arising—“Wrong road, of course! see if we don’t have to go back in a few minutes,”—and we generally did. In truth, we went back so often, that we began to hate the very word “countermarch.”
It is presumed that those in authority had been informed by telegraph respecting the riots in New York; but the first that the subordinates knew about the matter was, on obtaining, on the march, that memorable Herald, describing how the “military fired on thepeople.” If any of the editors of that veracious journal had happened to be in our vicinity about that period, it is more than probable that they would have been furnished with a practical illustration of their text, for a more angry set of men than the first division N. Y. S. M., never was seen.
It was sufficiently galling to know, that while we were away enduring all sorts of hardships to expel the rebels from Northern soil, an infamous set of copperheads had undertaken a counter-revolution in our very homes; and theadditional reflection of the opportunity it would give our Pennsylvania friends to depreciate our state, lent the account an additional sting. That day was the first, and we hope the only time in our lives, that any one was heard to say that he felt ashamed to think that he was born in the city of New York.
As may well be imagined, this intelligence, and the pleasing uncertainty existing in our minds respecting the welfare of our friends and homes, considerably accelerated our desire to get home again; and we pushed vigorously down the Fredericksburgh pike, breathing prayers, the reverse of benevolent, for the welfare of the rioters—until we could attend to them in person. Under any other circumstances it would have been a beautiful march; although oppressively hot in the early part of the day, the weather afterward was all that could be desired. The road was wide, smooth—tremendously hard, to be sure, for feet, as sore and badly shod as ours, and in its windings through the passes of the South Mountain, traversing a few more hills than were strictly agreeable—yet more beautiful scenery than it presents to the eye of the traveler can rarely be found.
That country is all historic ground. Those white boards on the right, “covering many a rood,” marked the last resting-places of the thousands of unknown heroes who sealed their patriotism with their blood in the battle of South Mountain; and all along the stone fences and among the trees on the left, the frequent bullet-marks tell how hot the conflict raged a year ago; for every foot of land for twenty miles around has been a battle-ground for the contending forces.
About sun-down we arrived at Frederick City, a bustling little place, full of soldiers, and with a large sprinkling of the fair sex, who, contrary to the experience of last year, loyally applauded the passing troops. Many would classit as a “one-horse town,” but to us it appeared a little paradise. It was a place where you could buy things, and although our predecessors turned up their aristocratic noses at the food there procurable,ouronly grievance was that we could not get any of it. Expecting to start directly for home, the division, without halting, continued its march through the city to within a quarter of a mile of the railroad depôt, which, for some unknown reason, is situated about three miles from the city, but, as usual, we were doomed to disappointment; whether the cars were ready or not, I cannot say; but, after a long consultation among the officers, it was settled that we could go no further, and at about eight o’clock we went into camp; having completed a march of over twenty-five miles since breakfast, with little or no straggling. This, we consider, is doing pretty well for militia.
The next day we “loafed,” resting under the trees and devouring the stock in trade of the sutlers who had come down to see us, restlessly waiting all day under orders to be ready to start at a moment’s notice.
At about sixP. M., the Thirty-seventh and Eleventh struck camp and marched off for the cars, amid the cheering of the whole division; but no orders came for us, and after waiting till half-past nineP. M., we went to sleep. At exactly eleven o’clock an orderly dashed up: “The regiment was to take the cars forthwith.” The word passed from mouth to mouth like lightning, and in less than no time the men were awakened, formed, and marching off “for home.”
We had to go precisely a quarter of a mile and get into the cars which had been standing all day on the track; and how long can any outsider, unacquainted with military manœuvres, imagine it took to get us on board? Not an hour, nor half an hour, butfive hoursanda half, by the watch, elapsedfrom the time we started till we got into those cars; and as it was raining in torrents all the while, it is not difficult to imagine the benedictions that were freely bestowed on every one supposed to be concerned in the matter. When we had gone about a hundred yards from camp the order came to “halt.” After a little time we were told to “rest.” Seeing no signs of a movement, and a heavy rain having come up, the boys unrolled their rubber blankets, and the cooler hands wrapped themselves up and lay down to sleep in the middle of the road, while the others took it out in swearing. In about an hour “Fall in!” was heard. We woke up, shook ourselves, and marched another hundred yards, where the same scene was repeated. Marching off the third time, we turned away from the main road and struck along the field to the depot, thinking we were off this time,sure. Vain thought! When we got on the bank, overlooking the railroad track, not a car was to be seen, and there we stood in the midst of a drenching rain, on a slippery clay slope where it was impossible to sit down, tired and sleepy as men could well be, for nearly two hours before the cars, after a little eternity of backing and switching, were pronounced ready for us. The moment the cars were reached every one threw himself on the floor, and, in spite of wet clothes, dirty floors, and leaky roofs, knew nothing more till daylight dawned on us entering Baltimore.
With the mention of the wordBaltimore, the wordbreakfastis intimately associated in our minds.
Oh! that first good civilized breakfast, with forks and chairs, and the other appliances of civilized life—the pen fails in the endeavor to do justice to that repast!
Yet in spite of the threats that were made of the quantities that would be eaten; and although it was near oneo’clock before we sat down, we were disgusted to find our systems so disorganized by a habit of taking breakfast late in the afternoon, and omitting the other meals altogether, that half the things that were ordered could not be disposed of; in fact, it was at least three days after our return to the bosom of our families, before we could manage three regular meals a day, without feeling uncomfortable; but this sensation soon wore off, and when it did, ample amends were made by all, for past abstinence.
From Baltimore to New York was a short and uneventful journey, and on the 18th day of July we found ourselves swinging up Broadway, glad to be home once more, but sorry enough to think that we were denied the pleasure of a shot at the rioters in general, and our worthy ex-mayor in particular. And although a long and aggravating tour of duty at home was still before us, here ended our eventful campaign.
It has been a favorite argument against the militia organizations, to decry them as Broadway troops, good for playing soldier, but who would be found wanting if subjected to the stern realities of a soldier’s life. This test has now been made, and the New York militia can proudly point to their record.
Marching one hundred and seventy miles in less than three weeks, in the most inclement weather, through mountain passes and over abominable roads, on ten days’ rations, without a change of clothing, in expectation of an attack at any moment (our regiment alone forming line of battle over nineteen times), they point with pride to the thanks tendered to them by General Meade in his official report, and claim that they have done all that could be expected of them—if not more; and although smarting under the usage they received from those they went to protect, they stand ready, ifan occasion of similar emergency should again arise, to meet again the same hardships, and undergo the same labors; but the next time we hope to be directed by generals who knowa littleabout the details of their business, and will not have to learn at our expense.
It is an elementary maxim that soldiers will not serve with any credit under a man they do not respect; and when they find their leaders ignorant of the first rules of military life, obliged to ask information from subordinates, and constantly sneered at as ignoramuses by those whodoknow what they are about, they speedily become discontented and suspicious, and in that condition are worse than useless.
Our Colonel and other officers had learned their duty in previous campaigns; and by the manner in which they handled their men, and the care with which they regarded their welfare, earned at once the gratitude and respect of their command. And this remark is also true of such men as Colonel Roome of the Thirty-seventh, and Colonel Maidhoff of the Eleventh. But what would have happened to the militia generally, and to our brigade in particular, if it had not been for their regimental officers, it is difficult to foresee. When we think of what did take place, and what might have taken place, the New York militia fervently pray,
“From long marches, wet weather, short commons, and militia generals, good Lord deliver us.”