USA > Massachusetts > History of the Second Mass. Regiment of Infantry, third paper > Part 4
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During the day's march I had my first experience of the part the blacks were to render us in this war. Entering a collection of poor negro huts during one of my halts, I was handed. by some of the colored people, two letters addressed to Gen. Banks ; which proved to be from a white man calling himself a spy, and giving information of importance. If this was a ruse, it revealed that there was no surer way to get information adverse to the enemy into our hands than to intrust it to such. messengers. In another instance, sorrow- ful complaints made to me proved that the colored people would be called for by the rebel armies to assist them to the extent of their capacity. Near our bivouac, there was a poor hut; its occupant a neat-looking free negro woman. She came to speak to me ; not to complain, but to say, in a weary,
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discouraged way, that the enemy had taken her two sons away from her, one of them a poor cripple, who with a wagon . and two poor " bones" (horses) earned the pittance upon which she lived. He was taken to haul off sick soldiers of Jackson's army. "I shall never see him again," mourned the poor mother, as she looked eagerly in my face for consolation, which I could only feel would be hers through that God who is love, though it was to come to this poor woman in this lowly cabin through a great sorrow, to open at last into a path of freedom and of joy.
Our stay at Edenburg was a continuous season of artillery- brawling and picket-stalking. We had some severe lessons before we learned to creep up on our game, like our more experienced friends on the other side of the creek. It was not five minutes after one of my staff had entered and examined a piece of woods on the outskirts of our camps, before the enemy's sharp-shooters fired upon and killed some of my men going through the same piece for water. Com- pany H, of our regiment, was sent to dislodge them. While they were crawling up towards the bank, pushing their guns before them, and eagerly peering ahead for a shot, I could see with my glass the rebel hunters dodging low along the walls, or creeping carefully behind the bushes, to gain a sheltered spot in an unlooke !- for cover, and then, a musket cracked and a lively rattle followed, mingled with answering growls of artillery. The creek that separated us from the enemy was not more than ten yards in width. On its banks on either side were houses. Back from the river about one fourth of a mile there was a thick wood, in which the enemy cor- cealed his batteries until he chose to stir us up, when he would sneak up behind the cover, open upon us at an unex- pected moment, and retreat rapidly when we replied. The fire from the artillery, and the skirmishing between the pickets, though continuous, was wonderfully free from casualties. O. one of our afternoons at this spot, f had just arisen from the
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rough camp-table that served us for our meals, when hissing and crashing came the enemy's shells over towards our bat- tery. Instantly I heard the cheerful boom of ours in reply ; and then, as the enemy's demonstration was a little more spiteful than usual, I got the brigade under arms. There was no harm done; but it took at least a dozen shots from our guns to make the rebels move off.
The brigade, after some little delay, went into camp again ; and the occasion. though one of no moment to the troops, proved a trial to my aid, who, having just procured a horse out of the government train, must needs try his martial ardor. The horse was a good-natured, stupid, slow old beast, and, mated with another, was very well ; but, alone, he turned out " a bad lot." He didn't mind spurs, ran into every man he met, caus- ing much profanity, and was especially obdurate when my aid (an officer of the Second Massachusetts) particularly desired to appear in the role of an equestrian warrior. So here, one regiment having been formed, and the Second Massachusetts coming up, before which of all others the officer felt a par- donable pride in appearing in most gallant style, his plebeian charger could not be entreated out of a walk. Now any horseman knows that for a military chieftain, a gallop is the thing, - a light, airy, arch !- neck gallop, a spirited intimation of reserved force, with champing bit and nostrils dilated, and eye flashing and car pointed, as reminders of what you may get it you want it. It was something like this that my aid essayed, when lo ! his beast struck a dead, solemn, limpid walk. Spurs were dug into him, by exasperated heels, until the beast struck a 'rot that any six-mule team might have envied, jolting the aid a foot from his saddle at every step. This was the only response, and it caused derisive laughter from concealed lookers-on. The continued bumping, and the consciousness of being a merited object of mirth, naturally increased this officer's ire ; and it was vented in renewed dig- ging of spars, until the animal, in sheer desperation at being
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held in tightly ahead, and sharply urged astern, bumped into the drum major of our regiment and nearly knocked him down, at which the smile was louder than allowed by the regulations. " He does n't mind shells, either, half as much as I do," said the perturbed aid, as he eyed the sorry beast askance while he dwelt upon his vices ; " in fact," he added, " I should like to see the devil himself make hima shy. When those shells were coming over at Woodstock, making a perfectly infernal noise, and other horses were on the rampage, there stood this beast as quiet as if in a stable. Even when I saw a shell fired, and tried the protection of a friendly tree, he would n't stir a peg faster than usual; and the shell burst long before I got him there. But he has one virtue ; I can leave him anywhere, and he will stand till doomsday." As I, too, had just secured a new horse, one belonging to an officer of Ashby's cavalry, captured by one of our skirmishers as we entered Woodstock, I was anxious to try his metile. The contrast between my ai l's horse and mine only served to make more conspicuous the shortcomings of the former. My horse would take a six-rail fence beautifully. After bounding over I often turned to look back, and call out, "Come along, don't stop for that," at which my aid's big farm plough-horse would come up, run square into the fence, bump his knees, sneeze, turn around, and stand, firmly courting death rather than attempt the fence. "But if there are only four rails, now" cries out the aid, "he will take that." -- " Orderly, take down two of those rails. Now, captain, take a fair start, let him out !" Down came the captain with pace growing slower and slower, until he reached the fence; when the horse halted. gravely counted the rails, quietly raised himself on end, put his fore feet over, gave hit - self an unearthly hitch with his hind legs, and landed on the other side with a pair of barked shins, then sneezed again as if he fancied he was a gay courser. The effect of this school of jumping is hard on the rider, who generally performs un- heard of gymnastics in the air, and comes down on the pom-
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mel of his saddle, to the great detriment of his pantaloons ; though there is some fun in it, and more excitement.
I have described the animal transferred from cart to cavalier duty, and how the change became him. I trust I shall neither weary your patience, nor devote too many of these pages to horses, if I now briefly describe the magnificent animal that fell to my lot. In doing this I must anticipate, must refer to many scenes that do not come within the province of these pages to relate, and must with his life speak of his death, which took place long after the war had ended.
It was after we had driven off Ashby's guns, and when the Second Massachusetts, deployed as skirmishers, were sweep- ing through Woodstock, that a skirmisher of the Second came suddenly upon a negro, leading a horse out of a stable in the town.
"Halloo," says the skirmisher, " where are you going with that horse ?"
" Don't stop me," replied the negro: "dis is my marster's best horse, and I'm taking him to him."
" Where is your master ?"
"Why, dare he is, sir, wid Marse Ashby's cavalry ; dare, sir, on de hill yonder."
" Well, you can't go there with the horse. I'll take care of him ; hand him over," replied the solcher.
And so the horse, saddled and bridled, was passing by me to the rear, when I learned the facts of his capture. Directing the soldier to bring him to me after the fight was over, we moved on, and, as related, sent " Marse Ashby" and his cav- alry whirling up the valley.
Having occasion towards night to visit General Banks at his headquarters, distant about three miles, I called for this horse, jumped on his back, and let him take his own ghit. Though it was a still night, I found from the way in which the air was rushing past my face that my horse must be going at great speed ; and this impression was strengthened by
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hearing behind me the rapid gallop of a horse, attempting in vain to pass. Presently I heard exclamations from the rider, "Jerusalem !" then sounds of urging to greater speed, until my pursuer was on a run. My horse had not broken his gait, which was a singular mixture of a trot and a pace ; for although he moved his legs on one side of his body together (the char- acteristic of a pace), yet his fore feet were thrown out with such a proud and lofty shock that it bore every semblance to a trot. I pulled up my horse to a slower gait, when in a moment my pursuer was by my side, exclaiming, -
" Mister, what sort of a horse do you call that ?"
" Why, -a very good horse, is he not?"
"Good horse !" (with emphasis) " I call my horse a good horse, and I have been on the tight run to catch you and could n't do it, and you only trotting."
The man belonged to a New York cavalry regiment, so he told me, was a private, and on duty as orderly, carrying de- spatches to Gen. Banks. It was very amusing to see his look of astonishment and hear his delicate apology as he found he had been chasing a colonel of infantry in the dark -- but, " I do think that horse is a stunner," he still insisted.
I next tried the horse with those of our cavalry, and found he boat them all in leaping ; indeed, Gen Hatch, commanding the cavaliy, acknowledged there was no horse in his command that could compete with him. His jump was not a flying leap, it was really a jump. He approached the fence or bar slowly, and preferred to do so at a walk, then slowly rising on his hind legs threw over his fore feet, following with the rest of his body with a muscular energy that would unseat a care- less rider. I found I could brave! across the country without stopping to take down fences. I have often seen our pickets stare with amazeinent as I galloped towards them, taking all the fences in my path. I never lowered anything but the rid- ing-rail of a Virginia fence, and I did that for my own com- fort, though I think the horse would have gone over it with
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urging. It was not long before general attention was attracted to my horse. One could not see without admiring him. His weight was over eleven hundred, and his height in proportion to his weight. His nostril was of enormous size ; his ear was large, but well-made and expressive ; his tail was hand- some and full ; his mane soft but not thick, though slightly flowing ; his color was a dark bay, with a black streak running from his mane along his back to the roots of his tail. In repose he was quiet ; but mount him, and witness the change. Then his neck arched, his immense nostril dilated, his teeth impatiently champed the heavy cavalry bit ; every nerve was strung for instant and intense action. You felt in every fibre of your body that mass of muscle and of nerve, and you knew that there was strength, will, and courage that could be broken only with his life. It was a hard day's work you would have, if you were restless and impatient when you mounted for your day's march. So finely-strung was this horse, that an ap- proach to composure was only possible when the rider was calm.
After our fight with Jackson at Winchester, we were ordered to cross the Blue Ridge, to join Pope for his cam- paign. On our first day's march we passed the house where " Ashby" (so I had named the horse) was raised. My quar- termaster had a nice eye for a horse, and had made up his mind that mine was a prize. "If you want to get rid of that horse," he had once or twice insinuated, " I should be willing to take him off your hands ;" but meeting no encouragement, he finally admitted that he knew more about the animal than I did, and he woall point out the horse's old home when we came to it. It was a charming little old house on the summit of the Blue Ridge, with a view away off in the valley towards the Potomac. There were trees to shade from the hot sun ; there were green fields and fresh breezes, everything favorable to the nurture of such a horse.
There was an old negro at the house, and he, I knew, could
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tell me something of my capture ; but I preferred to let this old servant make the discovery if he could. So I ordered all the horses of my staff, with some others, to be tied together in the woods, and then, calling to the negro, I asked him if any one from that house had gone away into Ashby's cavalry.
" Oh, yes," he replied, " Marse John, he's gone with Marse Ashby."
" Did he take a horse with him from here ?"
" Oh, yes, he took a horse from dis house."
" Do you know the horse ?"
" Do I know him ? Oh, yes, I raised him."
" Is he a good horse ? "
" Yes, indeed, marssa, he's good horse ; he's son of de old horse, but he ain't quite ekle to him -- no. No horse is ekle to him."
" Why not ?"
"Why not! why, dat ole horse, he once run sixty mile in sixty minutes, and dis horse could n't do dat ; no, he could n't do dat."
"Look around here in the woods among these horses, and see if you see one that looks like the horse Marse John rode away," I said.
In a moment the darky's eyes opened as laige as saucers. He had unerringly made straight for Ashby.
"Where you don get dat horse ?" he exclaimed, as he fondled his old favorite. " Is Marse John dead ?"
"No," I replied, " but we have captured his horse- away in the valley at Woodstock."
" Youse her got mighty good horse, den ; dat's trufe."
That the horse was of famous breed, and that he was then old (how old I could not ascertain), was all the reliable infor- mation I could get.
But from the day of his capture until the close of the war that horse was my inseparable companion. Nothing could tire him or break his spirits. For days and nights in Pope's
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campaign neither bridle nor saddle was removed, and all he ate was by hasty snatches at grass or musty hay ; and yet he came into Alexandria with a proud step and an unbroken courage, ready for the Maryland campaign.
I have never known such a horse ; I never expect to know one like him. Every moment a manifestation of power and gameness, fearless in his sweeping gallop, unmoved by the din of battle, his mettle inspired courage. He seemed to invite the thunders of war, and he never shrunk from the sound. In winter hardly sheltered from snow and ice, in summer exposed to the sun and rain, he bore his part in the campaigns of the war with a nerve and bearing that attracted the admira- tion of the army.
He was with me for eight months on a wretched sand-bar off Charleston during Gillmore's operations ; he was with me in Florida ; I carried him by sea to New Orleans, and thence up the Mississippi in July, where on transports he was borne around, and buffeted from place to place - now at Memphis, then at Arkansas, up the White River, at Vicksburg, and back again at New Orleans, then Mobile Bay, and on that malarious shore, until again transferred by sea to the Army of the Potomac, there to remain until the war closed, when I brought him to a quiet country home within twenty miles of Boston.
In a comfortable stable with a box stall, with every provision made for his comfort, old Ashby has passed a tranquil life. In his peaceful home, and with kind treatment, his disposition became gentler, and his response to caresses, never decided, was net so haughtily return .d. I doubt if Ashby had ever been in harness, until I clothed his limbs in such ignoble bonds. He resisted stoutly and manfully at first, but at last, when an appeal to his reason was made, submitted. and behaved well if kindly and. quietly treated. In this, as in everything about this horse, one could accomplish anything through reason -only appeal to his reasoning faculties. He had a
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large brain, and could understand when appealed to. He could not be driven by blows. In our twelve years' compan- ionship I never struck him a blow. Nothing would have tempted me to show passion, or to attempt to reach him but through reason and love. Therefore I always secured his best services, for they were never given from fear. For the nine years that have passed since the war closed, my pleasure and my joy have been greatly increased whenever I could con- tribute to the comfort or the wants of my faithful friend. To let him run in the field in summer, to lead him to the choicest bits of grass in the spring, to respond to his begging neigh when I came towards him in my daily visits, to pick up the choicest apples to be taken from my hand, --- all these inter- changes of mutual respect and affection added to my pleasure in life.
I have written these lines to tell of my faithful horse, though he has at last met that death which, on the battle-field or the ocean, in the chill of winter or the heat of summer, seemed long ago inevitable. Despite shelter and tenderest care and most nutritious food, he now sleeps under the green sod in the orchard where he has so many times played without restraint, in sight of the home that has so gend'y cared for him, of the stable that has so warmly sheltered him, and under the apple- trees whose foil he has so often eaten, and whose blossoms whiten his grave On Monday, the eighteenth of May, 1874. I was aroused early in the morning with the information that iny poor old horse was in great pain, and would not eat. Ilost not a moment in applying remedies, sending in the meanwhile for one more skilled.
Everything was triel, but nothing seemed to lessen the pain in the stomach. There was the seat of pain. Beseechingly would this intelligent animal look, first at one side, and then at the other, and then at us, appealing for help. In vain did he gallop wherever he inclined, trying one road and then another, the posture and the field, aud equally in vain rolling
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and struggling, rising and lying down. The disease advanced with a force that defied us. Early in the afternoon it became evident the noble animal must die. He was lying down in the soft grass, some distance from the house, only occasionally lifting his head in an uneasy manner, as a sick child might toss himself in bed. All but myself had gone and left him. As I saw this splendid frame stretched helplessly on the carth, so exhausted by the agony he had suffered that he could but feebly lift his head ; as I saw that bright eye half closed, and heard the quick breath as it came through that great nostril ; as I saw my friend, my companion of so many years, so help- less before me, strength gone, muscles soft and feeble ; as the memory of all this dear companion had been came over me, I shed such tears as I thought never to shed again. Kneeling by him I stroked his face, and then gently raising his head coaxed him to attempt to rise. The rain was beginning to fall, and I wished to shelter him, and also that he might breathe his last in the old stable where he had stood so long. Putting forth all his dying force, and obedient to a call that he knew had never been made but in love, he staggered to his feet. Gently I led him. tottering and reeling, to his stable, where a soft bed had been prepared. I covered him with blankets, to retain as long as possible the ebbing life. It was How two o'clock. I doubt if there was much pain then ; the disease, or narcotics, seemed to stupefy him ; now and then he would still look around at his side, as if there in his stomach where it had begun, there the disease still remained.
For seven hours " Ashby " hardly moved from the spot where I had placed him in his stall ; there was but little rest- lessness, though his breathing became more rap'd and labored, and this increased as the night came on. My last effort to save him was is rubbing his legs with mustard, and applying bandages; but this gave no relief. His breath came shorter and shorter, his head dropped lower and lower, and at a quarter before nine at night he fell dead upon the floor. I
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heard the rattle of death in his throat, as tenderly I closed his eyes ; then, turning from him, gently, lovingly, I said, " My poor old friend, my dear old companion, I have tried to be as faithful to you, as you have been truc and constant to me."
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CHAPTER IV.
Ar Edenburg the weather was sometimes like our own New England in June, when the air is warm and hazy, and the leaves rustle with a dreamy melody, and birds are exu- berant with song. But hardly had we begun to feel in har- mony with sunny days and blooming peach-trees and warm showers, before a change would come, as bitter as the hatred of the women of Virginia ; the ground covered with snow, the air thick with hail, and the distant mountains hidden in the chilling and frozen atmosphere. Our shivering sentinels on the outer lines met at times the gaze of half-frozen horsemen of the enemy, peering through the mist as if to see what the "Yankees" had been doing within the last twenty-four hours. It was hard to believe we were in the sunny South, for there was never more marrow-penetrating weather at the North. Life, enterel upon at Edenburg under the excitement of a fight, became monotonous. Tents began to take in that fulness of equipment only accumulated by time ; and comforts began to show themselves, in thick layers of pine boughs, which served for both bed and carpet. For myself, an ordi- nary camp-stool was devoted to official use as my table; while boot-leggings, gauntlets, sword, feld and spy glass, candle. matches, hair and tooth brush, looking-glass, carpet-bag, box, india-rubber cloak, wash-basin and pail, with sundry old newspapers in a pile, lay in confusion upon the ground. Six stones in a circle enclosed the dead ashes that sometimes sup- plied heat, although I usually relied upon a fire of logs in front of my tent, which generally smoked the inside suffi-
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ciently. If one inquires whence came articles of comfort, I will answer them according to the reply I received from an officer of my staff. " Why, you see, sir, my boy Jim is a very good servant, and has a faculty of finding whatever is wanted. I wanted a surcingle for my horse, -Jim found one in the woods ; same with a drinking-cup, two chairs, and various other little things. He now is in search of a ham, a frying- pan, and a tea-kettle. I haven't a doubt he will find them in the woods." Well, there was novelty in the life, and good cheer at night around the camp-fires, while scenes and inci- dents of the day were related. I recall the brightly gleaming face of our chaplain, with the firelight glancing from his spec- tacles. I hear his jolly laugh, as his rotund form seems to swell with very comfort before the blaze; I hear again my horse's uneasy tramp behind my tent, chided with the vocif- erous Whoa! of my groom ; again the bands of distant regi- ments playing merrily at their evening hours, the men chaff- ing in their tents ; and the voice of our indefatigable Stephen, who, announcing " Supper is ready, sir!" invites us into a bower of pines where he repeats night after night the same bill, - of tea, strong enough to whip a " Monitor," ham, tongue, and brcal, perhaps toast.
On Sundays the religious services by our chaplain came to us with a new meaning. We had seen death enough then to call attention to our own mortality : and the men and officers were more attentive on Sundays than at Winchester, and listened to beautiful selections read by the chaplain in a clear voice, from an Episcopal prayer-book. The band played, and sang, too, some of the oldaime tunes ; and many perceived that a gap in their existence, which they had long felt without knowing what it was, had been filled. But our days at Eden- burg were scon to be of the past. Jackson's main force was not very near us ; they were some eight miles away, at Mount Jackson, and ready to run when we approached. It was Jack- son's faithful officer, Ashby, against whom our fourteen guns
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had been daily pouring forth their torrents of fire, -against his guns of shorter range, English ammunition, and shells that did not always burst.
On the seventeenth of April, when the joyful news came to move forward in pursuit of Jackson, it was received with cheers of delight. The objective point was New Market, fifteen miles farther southward on the pike. If the enemy were dis- posed to give battle, there were some strong positions on our route. The military problem, therefore, was to turn them with one column, while another moved forward. Mill Creek, at Mount Jackson, like Stony Creek, at Edenburg, rises in the range of mountains bounding the valley on the west, flows at right angles to the pike, crosses it, and empties into the North Fork of the Shenandoah. On the south side of the creek, a few hundred yards from the bridge, rises the commanding hill, called Mount Jackson. The pike passes through the flat bottom-land, south of the creek, before it winds over the hill. The summit not only commands all the approaches, but, if beld, makes the crossing of the pike and bridge at the creek an exceedingly difficult operation, exposing an attack- ing force along the narrow, uncovered roadway to a destruc- tive fire. At four o'clock in the morning, our whole command moved across the creek at Edenburg, forward for Mount Jack- son. The leading column, commanded by Gen. Shields, and comprising his division, was formed at midnight, and crossed the creek before daylight, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. Gen. Williams commanded the reserve, which was made up of his division, in which was my brigade, and, of course, our regiment. From Edenburg to the westward, a dirt road, called the middle, runs (at a varying distance from one mile to two) nearly parallel to the pike, with which it unites at Harrison- burg. When Shields advanced, a small force, as a flanking column (should the enemy stand before reaching Mount Jack- son), moved on this middle road to join the main boly at that place. As the enemy know as well as we what we were about,
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