USA > Connecticut > The story of the Twenty-first Regiment, Connecticut Volunteer Infantry, during the Civil War. 1861-1865 > Part 27
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dark. They were probably created for some wise purpose, but nobody seems to know what; if they do they don't tell. My own opinion is that they are a substitute for the bed- bug, which we don't have in the army, and are nearer related to them than they are to the school-house variety.
,
SERGEANT JEROME B. BALDWIN.
It is the usual custom of an army on the march to go into camp occasionally, for a day or so, ostensibly, for the purpose of allowing the men to rest and refresh themselves, but really
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to allow them time to wash their underclothing, and get the smoke of the camp-fire off their dirty faces and kill lice. I have often seen the men, of other regiments, engaged in this interesting occupation, and have been highly pleased. In fact it is in this that I have had the most and the best opportunity for the study of the army louse, and must account for what little knowledge I have of them. They are a very interesting study -- at a distance.
One of the most impressive scenes, which it was my fortune to witness, during my army service, was that of the Great Army of the Potomac, sleeping. It was on a lovely moonlight night, amid the grand scenery around the vicinity of Harper's Ferry, in the month of October, that I stood and looked down upon acres of men, rolled in their army blankets, and quietly and peacefully sleeping, with only the moon and the stars, and the broad canopy of the heavens above them. It was an impressive and inspiring spectacle, and it brought very forcibly to my mind those beautiful lines, which must have been written under the spell of some similar inspiration :
ON THE POTOMAC-1862.
" All quiet along the Potomac," they say, " Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing, a private or two, now and then, Will not count in the news of the battle ;
Not an officer lost-only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the dead rattle."
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming : Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, Or the light of the watch-fires are gleaming,
:
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A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night wind Through the forest leaves softly is creeping ; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, Keep guard-for the army is sleeping.
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, And thinks of the two in the low trundle bed, Far away in the cot on the mountain, His musket falls slack ; his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep --- For their mother -- may Heaven defend her !
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree -- The footstep is lagging and weary ;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, Toward the shade of the forest so dreary. Hark ! was it the night wind that rustled the leaves ? Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ? It looked like a rifle ; " Ha! Mary, good by !" And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night --- No sound save the rush of the river ;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead- The picket's off duty forever.
ESTABLISHING AN ARMY TELEGRAPH.
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THE ANIMATED FENCE.
Another scene which used to afford a great deal of amuse- ment was the "animated fence." Any veteran of the army can tell you truthfully that he has seen miles of Virginia rail fence get up and walk, and in less than two minutes not a rail was left to tell the location of the fence. It was a curious sight to see that grand Army of the Potomac, when, after a long march the order was given to break ranks, to see the boys make a rush for the fence. In the twinkling of an eye every man had one or more rails on his shoulder, and the air was full of rails all pointing in a different direction, and all going to supply fuel for the camp-fire and the cooking of the soldiers' coffee.
The army camp-fire is to the soldier something like what the country grocery store is to the village loafer-a place to try and keep warm in, to talk politics, and discuss the con- duct of the war, to swap lies, and chew Navy plug, to tell stories, and inhale smoke. It is as impossible to keep warm around a camp-fire as it is around an old fashioned fire-place. On a cold night, one side is freezing while the other is thaw- ing, and the only way to avoid freezing solid is by a frequent change of front. There is one peculiarity about the smoke from a canip-fire for which I could never fully account, and that is, its peculiarity in always taking you in the face. Change of position seemed to make no difference, it would follow you everywhere, and after a night around the camp- fire, the faces of the men had a color on them similar to that of a sugar-cured ham. But after all that, there was always a kind of fascination about a camp-fire. It was the home circle of the soldier, and the scenes of some of his happiest hours.
After a long and weary march, there was no place so wel- come and so enjoyable as around the cheerful camp-fire, made of good dry Virginia rail fence.
A squad of soldiers asleep around a camp-fire, or trying to sleep, was always an interesting picture. Rolled in their
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blankets they lie down in a circle with their feet to the fire, as near as safety would permit, but not always to an unin- terrupted sleep, for there was always some uneasy ones to " make it lively for the boys" who desired a quiet night, or some sonorous snorer, who made the "echoes wake" until everybody else was awake, or somebody would arouse the whole party, with the frantically uttered explanation, " I smell a heel aburning." The old camp-fires, if they did not always add to the warmth of the soldier, had a warm place in the heart of the veteran.
On the hot morning of June Ist, when the regiment was lining up to march out from White House Landing to Cold Harbor, the writer took his place in the ranks of Company F. Just before the regiment moved out, Surgeon Lee, knowing I was with the regiment, came to the company, taking me by the arm and leading me from the ranks, said it was an im- possibility for me to stand the fatigue of the march, and the battle about to take place, and advised me not to come back to the regiment again, but to find some duty elsewhere that I was able to perform. I was sent with others to the Sixth Corps Field Hospital, where I was soon placed in charge of about two hundred and fifty men, to do all the outside work of the vast hospital of the Sixth Corps. We found acres of wounded men of every description lying upon the grass in the hot sun, waiting for shelter and attention.
One of my duties was to see that all the cooks of the hospital and people sent out by sanitary commissions and committees of Eastern churches, etc., who came out to cook delicacies for the sick and wounded soldiers, not supplied by the government, were furnished with dry chestnut rails for their cooking purposes.
Among them, from the far State of Iowa, was a couple of women who came to administer to the wants of the Eastern soldiers. The younger of the two, a prepossessing girl, stated that a young brother of hers had enlisted in the Second Con- necticut Heavy Artillery while on a visit to Connecticut, and
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she, on learning of the fact, had joined the army so as to be near and care for him, feeling sure he would be wounded. I informed her that the Second Connecticut Heavy Artillery was in the defenses of Washington, serving with heavy ord- nance, and he was in no danger of being hurt; but she had a premonition that her brother would be severely wounded and be in need of her nursing to save his life. It transpired that the Second Heavy was ordered in all haste to join General Grant, and was put into the great charge as infantrymen at Cold Harbor, and the mangled soldiers soon commenced to arrive at the Sixth Corps Hospital.
A morning or two after the battle, the writer was walking around among the wounded when he caught the eye of a young soldier, who seemed to be severely wounded, beckon- ing me with his forefinger, which was all he had the strength to do. Going near him, I noticed he had on his cap, "Second Connecticut Heavy Artillery." I stooped down and asked him his name, and he whispered the same surname to me as that of the Iowa girl. I unbuttoned his coat and discovered he was shot straight through the lungs, and in a very seri- ous condition. Realizing he was the long-sought brother, I hastened back and brought his sister to him, preparing her on the way for the painful meeting. Then I went for the stretcher and helped to take him to her tent. The surgeon, upon examining him, shook his head to me as an indication that the chances for the young boy were slim, but with the good nursing of his sister he seemed to hold his own for the few days I was able to keep track of him. In a short time we were ordered to evacuate White House Landing, prepara- tory to Grant's march across the James River to invest Petersburg.
If the young member of the Second Connecticut Heavy Artillery survived his wound, it was owing to his sister's pre- monition and great faith, and making the sacrifice of leaving her comfortable home and coming to the Army of the Potomac, suffering almost all the camp risks of a soldier's
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life. But what puzzled the writer then, and has all these long years since those eventful days, is what was the chance, the magnet, the unseen power, that irresistably drew me straight to the side of this comrade in his struggle with death, in preference to anyone of the hundreds of wounded men who thickly strewed the ground, all of whom needed immediate care. Who can tell ?
When the subject of rations are mentioned, old soldiers are interested, and new recruits as well, for it is a matter that touches the heart ; no, I mean the stomach of us all. Good rations mean to soldiers, ability to stand the march and courage to fight, and live and to fight again.
The first few rations the regiment received after starting froin Connecticut, were so varied and remarkable and from so many different sources, that it is proper they should be recorded in this history.
The regiment marched from the fair grounds the very warm afternoon of September 11th. The most of the people of Norwich, were in the streets to honor our departure, and we had a most hearty send-off for the war. We took the cars at Norwich to Allyn's Point, where we embarked on steamboat for Jersey City. There was but little sleep for anyone that night. Towards morning we began to get hungry, then the news went round that there would be a big breakfast waiting for us when we landed, a regular Connecticut meal, furnished by the state agent and paid for by the commonwealth of the State of Connecticut.
It was to be a spread that we would remember until long after we " licked the rebels" and returned home. We were drawn up in line on the tracks, near the station, and, after a long wait, our tin plates were ordered to be ready. After a longer wait along came waiters with pails of something they called soup, the same variety of chicken soup as made by a heu wading through a brook. About one-half pint was put on each plate. We supposed this was a relish for what was to come and it quickly disappeared. I won't say "that,
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Micawber-like, we waited for something to turn up," or, like David Copperfield, " we asked for more," for everbody quotes that, but that was about the truth of it. We waited and called again, but the small dipper of hot water was the beginning and the end of the anticipated feast. The state agent was there to make us comfortable, and the state paid for it.
We were then counted off, forty to a car, and put into hot
QUARTERMASTER-SERGEANT E. S. WHEELER.
box-cars, which had been occupied by swine and cattle, and but partially cleansed for our use. But we soon made what is now called " open-air cars" of them by tearing off the sides of the car down to about three or four feet high. A great many got out and rode on top of the car with their feet hanging over the sides ; a ride never to be forgotten. By the time we arrived in Philadelphia the Connecticut breakfast had
.
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made us ravenous. We did not expect much, for we had no state agent there, but not one of us, I venture to say, will ever forget the meal we were treated to in the famous Cooper Shop restaurant. A regiment marched out as we entered. There was ample room for all-never was such vast extent of tables cleared and filled with everything that was good, and in great abundance. We had a great feast, were well waited on and kindly treated. Those that were sick were taken to the hospital upstairs. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were fed at this place during the war. Any soldier could get a square meal here at any time of day or night.
In Baltimore we received a fair spread, but meal number four we received from the United States on our arrival in Washington, and it is still engraved on our hearts. After the usual long wait, we were marched for some distance over the hot gravel of the railroad track to a baggage car. Reaching up our arms to full length, the rations were dropped into our open palms as we marched past the doorway. In one hand I received about one and one-half pounds of boiled "sow belly." It was still scalding hot. In the other hand some hard or soft bread. I clutched my fingers over the boiling fat chunk, and the hot lard ran down my arms and body to my shoes. Not as yet being used to this quality of rations, I tossed it into the bushes. My father, who had accompanied us to Washington, said, that so far we had lived to eat, but he feared that now we would have to eat to live.
We now marched over to East Capitol Hill and went into bivouac there. Breakfast there was eagerly anticipated, especially after eating the pork. When it came, it proved for the most part to be putrid boiled pork-ham. I can smell and taste that ham at this moment. I am sure the whole regi- ment will remember their first five rations, but it was not long before we were able to eat raw salt pork placed between two hard tacks-while on our great march to Frederick-burg, in thick clouds of dust-our hunger making us relish the pork, dust and crackers alike,
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
I suppose we ought to be thankful that nowadays it is the " other fellows" that are doing the marching on the same rations.
While making a trip to New York by boat about ten years after the closing of the war, it being very warm and suffoca- ting in the berth which I was compelled to use, about day- light I woke, and gathering my belongings, I hastened, half clad, from the cabin out upon the after deck, where I found many there in the same predicament, seeking fresh air.
Lying upon a settee was a gentleman bewailing the close, warm morning. As the sun commenced to make its appear- ance above the water of the Sound, he wondered what it was. Upon being informed it was the sun rising, and that it was the way we had of getting the " sun up" in Connecticut, he said, " This is the first time I have scen the sun rise since I was in the army." Upon learning he was in the army, of course acquaintance was soon made, and among other re- marks he said there was one man he always felt he would like to meet again. His story was, that after the second day's march of the Army of the Potomac, from Harper's Ferry for Fredericksburg, they encamped at a place called " Wheat- land." The boys commenced to forage, and a special raid was made on one of the plantations near camp, which was fully stocked with cattle, horses, fowl, etc. The writer, on entering the garden, found soldiers carrying off to camp with all kinds of truck, some hives of honey with the bees still in the hives. After appropriating everything in sight, a large smoke-house was discovered. Soon butting down the doors, it proved to be full of turkeys, and the narrator stated that just as a cavalry patrol detachment was sighted coming up the road, he grabbed a turkey by one leg and a comrade the other, and both of them holding on pulled the turkey apart alive and ran up the road in front of the cavalry. He stated he had always wished to meet this comrade, as he was anxious to know what became of the other half of the turkey. I told him to shake, for I was the comrade he was looking
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Incidents and Coincidents.
for, and assured him that the remnant of the bird was put where it would do the most good.
While in the same camp (" Wheatland"), which we occu- pied two or three days, there appeared one morning a gentle- man on horseback with well-filled saddle bags. He appeared friendly and was very talkative with the soldiers, telling them about the rebels who had fallen back as we advanced. While his attention was called away from his horse, which he had dismounted, Jared Culver, a member of the company, in- spected the contents of the fat saddle bags and found that each contained a nicely cooked boned chicken, neatly folded in a white napkin. Of course we were both financially broke, and Culver, taking me one side, advised me to engage the close attention of the well-to-do farmer. While so engaged he was to possess himself of the boned chickens, and when he had gotten well away I was to withdraw and turn the gentleman over to some other comrade, and we were to " subsist on the enemy " for the remainder of the afternoon.
I called the attention of the stranger to a ridge of moun- tains in the front, and asked him about the crops, etc., and, after a few minues, looking over my shoulder, I saw that Culver was well on his way into the woods with the game. I quickly withdrew to join him, but somehow he changed his course upon entering the brush, and I lost his trail. It tran- spired afterward that he had already made arrangements with another comrade, Sergeant John C. Ladd, to dine off the plunder, but I evened up with him in later transactions. Sergeant Ladd was always around when there was some- thing good to eat, and could scent a good meal farther than any man I know of.
I was informed it would have been very interesting to me if I had been present when the stranger missed his supplies. He forgot his gentlemanly and friendly deportment and swore only as a Virginian can.
One afternoon while out doing the country, I came across an eccentric member of Company F, by the name of
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Murphy. All the Company boys will remember him. He was very busy skinning a pig which he had found in the "enemy's country." While scheming how to share his game with him, the owner of the pig came upon the scene and loudly objected to the proceedings, and said he would go at once and see the General and have him arrested, as he under- stood that orders had been issued and would be strictly enforced against foraging. I told Pat to hang on to his pig and I would head the man off from seeing the General.
Hurrying to camp and to the General's quarters, I found a messmate of mine on guard and gave the situation to him, at the same time informing him that pork chops were some- thing to be desired, and that if he worked the thing right he should have his share. He said that on no account would he allow the man to get access to headquarters.
Soon the irate planter came into camp and made for the General's tent. He ran up against the sentry, who, to his loud complaints, said the General had given strict orders not to be disturbed on any account, and if he made any more noise he would be quartered and hung before sundown. The man's anger gave way to fright and he seemed glad to escape with his life.
I fared a little better with Pat than I had with Culver and the chickens, for he divided the pork up that night and the chops were nicely cooked. Of course the sentry came in for his share, and a good proportion of the same graced the General's table for breakfast, and we never heard that he inquired where they came from.
One day a splendidly equipped sutler's team with four horses, heavily laden with all kinds of delicacies craved by soldiers, drove into this same camp and they were immedi- ately received with loud hurrahs. Members of the Hawkins Zouaves, veterans of Roanoke Island, who were brigaded with us, quickly secured the proprietors of the equippage and guarded them carefully. Others kindly held the four horses, while the wagon was literally overrun with Hawkins men,
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who were not selfish at all with their possessions, but liber- ally distributed the same. Soon heads of barrels were stove in, boxes broken open, ginger cakes, cookies, crackers, canned fruit of all descriptions, including several cheeses, pies, etc., were distributed with a free hand, and it took but a very few minutes for that great load to absolutely disappear from view. Nothing was saved but some empty barrels and boxes and packages of various kinds.
When the owners saw that there was nothing visible of their stores and no possible way to make a claim, or reim- burse themselves in any way, upon invitation of those wicked Zouaves, they departed at once for Harper's Ferry, to bring up another load, as the word was " on to Richmond," and we expected to break camp any time, and wished to start in as good condition as possible.
I wish to remind the old boys of an event which happened at the time the Eighteenth Corps were embarked at Bermuda Hundred, to proceed to join General Grant at Cold Harbor. You will remember that the regiment boarded a propeller. The captain of the craft proved to be a brother of a member of Company H. He, knowing we were to join Grant for an immediate movement upon Lee, ran the boat diagonally across the river into a bay hard aground at high tide, which held it fast for twenty-four hours or more. At low tide we could easily wade around the boat. It took the united efforts of five or six tugs after repeated attempts at one or two high tides to release us from the mud, which gave us a delay of twenty-four to thirty-six hours, so that we were the last regi- ment of the Corps to land at White House, and did not get started for Grant's army until the morning of June Ist.
We thought that the captain ran his boat into the mud on. purpose for us to gain time and escape the first onset of the battle, but perhaps he lost his bearings and went on to the bank by accident. The writer never learned the truth.
We all have a disagreeable memory of both camps at Fredericksburg. I remember how we slept on the frozen
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ground with our overcoats, shoes and caps on, and often times our feet pushed out from under our rubber blankets, which were the only tents we had in the first camp.
I think it was after the battle of Fredericksburg, one even- ing early, just as a storm was about to break, comrade Culver came to me and asked if I would like to have some good, nice hay to spread in the bottom of the tent to sleep upon. I told him I very much desired to sleep in a hay mow. He said we would enjoy that luxury, if I would keep a stiff upper
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SERGEANT JOHN C. LADD.
lip, follow him and obey orders. Giving me an old slouch " Burnside " hat and directing me to wear a blouse, we started for an ammunition park, a quarter of a mile away. On the way he told me he had ascertained that the teamsters in this camp had fallen in regularly about dark, to draw their rations of hay for their mules, and that the night being stormy, it would be pitch dark at the regular time of their drawing. Arrangement was that we should pull our hats well down over our faces, tuck our blouses inside of our trousers and
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fall in with the men, and in the flickering light of a candle we would escape detection and secure the hay. So when the bugler sounded the forage call and the teamsters fell in, we took our place in line and filed slowly with them up to where the sergeant was seeing to the delivery of the hay. As good fortune would have it, just as our turn came, a new bale was rolled out and the wires cut from the same. Stooping down I carefully lifted up one-half of the bale, and Culver, who followed me, drew the other half, and proceeding a few steps off, we were in complete darkness and could not be discerned. We arrived safely in camp, made a good comfortable nest, and there were two tents certainly which enjoyed a bed of hay until we changed camp to the side hill over the grave yard, where sickness and death overtook so many of us.
PECULIARITIES OF GENERAL BUTLER.
BY THE REGIMENTAL QUARTER-MASTER SERGEANT, SOMETIME CLERK AT BUTLER'S HEADQUARTERS.
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