USA > Maine > First Maine bugle, 1890 (history of 1st Maine Cavalry) > Part 22
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more letters and stories of the war, and thus do yourselves honor, and encourage other comrades to follow your example."
Comrades --- we want you all to take hold and help us, after you have responded to the demands of Gen. Cilley. We want stories, in- cidents, and reminiscences, of the days of '61 -- '65, and we want let- ters written and diaries kept dur- ing those stirring days. Every one of you can give some personal recollections of the service, such as no other comrade can do. Re- member that no two comrades looked upon the same thing in the same way; no two saw the same fight, the same skirmish, the same march, the same scout, the same tour of picket, the same days in winter quarters, with the same eyes, or from the same standpoint. A dozen stories of the same en- gagement, written by the same number of participants, would all be different, would each contain some fact or some incident that none of the others contained, and yet all would be needed to make
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the whole complete. No two com- rades had the same experiences. We want all those experiences, and you want us to have them all, if you will only stop to consider the matter. Consider that in this way you may put yourself on rec- ord correctly, for the benefit of history, and that your children may read, long after you have joined the majority, how their fathers fought and suffered for the country and the flag.
We want these experiences told by you in your own way. You say you cannot write them, some of you, and you honestly think you cannot. But will you allow your- selves to think that a man who served in the gallant First Maine Cavalry cannot put his service on record? You can tell of it, can you not, around the camp-fire or the hearth-stone? Of course you can, so you can write of it. if you will only think so. We do not ask for literary gems, or specimens of fine writing, or rhetorical effect, or high-sounding sentences. We want the stories just as you would tell them. Remember, your writing, good or poor, will be seen only by us and by the printer, --- the com- rades will not see it, -- and when you see your communication, which you perhaps forwarded to us with fear and trembling, in print, you will be surprised to see how well you have told your story. You will find spelling, grammar, punc-
tuation, etc., all correct, and if you have, perchance, spelled a word wrong in writing, you will never find it in print. Tell the stories, and give the reminiscences in your own way. It is more than likely that your own mode of expression will call you back to the mind of some other comrade quicker, much quicker, than your face or your name would do. No matter if the story is long or short, tell it. Think what a treat it will be to read letters from scores of the comrades of the grand old regi- ment, in each succeeding Call, and make up your mind to send in your quota with the rest of them. Experiences of the camp, the field, the picket-line, the raid, the march, the hospital, the prison -- of any part of the service --- are what you will all like to read, and some part of which you all can write.
One of the best stories of war experience that has been printed was written by a man who went into the service a mere boy, as so many of you did. He had not the advantages of even a common- school education, in a country town. His story, when written, it was our fortune to prepare for the printer. It is safe to say that three out of five words (except the most ordinary words) were misspelled ; that the rules of gram- mar would n't apply to three out of five of his sentences; and that the strict rules of construction would
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EDITORIAL.
get lonesome in reading that man- uscript. We put it into shape ; we spelled the words correctly, of course ; we corrected the grammar except where correct grammar would weaken the force of the sen- tences; and as for the construc- tion, we meddled with that very little, preferring to let the author's own quaint expressions stand. The story was printed - a small pamphlet -and in a very short time went out of print, and could be purchased only at a premium. To-day it can be purchased only at a very high premium. The se- cret of its success was that the comrade told his story in his own way, and that is just what we want you all to do. Do not be afraid of sending too many. When we begin to get over-crowded we will call a halt.
On the Right Flank at Gettysburg.
The comrades will all be much interested in reading the vivid description of the services of the old Second Cavalry Division (our old and loved commander, Gen. David McM. Gregg) on the right flank at Gettysburg, July 3d, 1863. As indicated in the heading, it is the historical sketch prepared for and delivered at the services of dedication of the division monu- ment, erected on the site of the engagement, by Lieut. Col. William Brooke-Rawle, of the Third Penn- sylvania Cavalry. We republish
it by the kind permission of the author, that all the comrades may have a good idea of the impor- tance to the Union cause of the services of the cavalry on that decisive day of the engagement, and with the intention of supple- menting it in the next Call with an account of the remainder of the services of dedication.
Sons of the First Maine.
To show the loyalty to the mem- ory of our regiment that exists in our sons, the following incident is given, concerning a son of Mean- der Dennett, of Co. K, now assist- ant paymaster in one of the large Lewiston mills. The little fellow was attending a primary school in Lewiston, and one day the teacher,
in talking to the school concerning the War of the Rebellion, desired to bring in Gen. Grant's name and arouse an interest, and in con- versation with the scholars asked them, "Who put down the Rebel- lion ? " Instantly young Dennett's hand went into the air, and the teacher, much pleased with the ready response, asked him to in- form the school who put down the Rebellion. With the utmost con- fidence the little fellow replied, "The First Maine Cavalry." That's the way, comrades, to bring up your children, to love and honor the old flag and what it means, and to love and honor the grand old regiment in which their
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fathers served for the stars and stripes. Then take the sons to Houlton next summer and have them organize "The Sons of the First Maine Cavalry."
The First Maine and the G. A. R.
The following items from the Twenty-fourth Annual Encamp- ment of the Department of Maine, Grand Army of the Republic, held in Portland, Feb. 18th and 19th, 1891, will be of interest :- -
The number of First Maine Cav- alrymen entitled to vote, either as delegates or by office, was forty- seven.
Augustus R. Devereaux was elected a member of the Council of Administration, and Jonathan P. Cilley delegate to the National Encampment at Detroit, Mich.
Comrade Devereaux has recently been appointed Postmaster of Ells- worth, Me.
Samuel Burrows, Co. B, was present and a member of the En- campment as Commander of the G. A. R. Post at Waldoboro. He is Postmaster of Broad Bay in his town.
A large number of comrades not members of the Encampment were present. among whom was C. F. Dam, Co. F, whom Portland is about to honor by electing to her Common Council.
The Department of Maine num- bers one hundred sixty-one Posts. Of these fourteen are named after comrades in our regiment, viz : --
Stephen Davis Post, No. r, Pitts- field; Vincent Mountford Post, No. 22, Brunswick; C. S. Douty Post, No. 23,
Foxcroft; Joseph E. Colby Post. No. 41, Rumford ; E. H. Bradstreet Post, No. 44, Liberty ; Chas. D. Thompson Post, No. 77, Springfield; N. W. Mitchell Post, No. So, West Newfield; Ansel G. Taylor Post, No. 95, Caribou ; Eli Parkman Post, No. 119, East Cor- inth; Louis O. Cowan Post, No. 131, North Berwick; Edmund B. Clayton Post, No. 134, Strong; Fred A. Nor- wood Post, No. 146, Rockport ; Chas. K. Johnson Post, No. 152, Carmel ; Addison P. Russell Post, No. 159, Houlton.
A Yankee Sea-Captain in Japan,
Comrade Melville B. Cook of Co. B, in his "Japan ; a Visit to the Island Empire," tells the fol- owing good story, which will be appreciated by all his comrades :-
While spending an evening in Kioto with another Yankee captain, we strayed to the billiard-room and engaged in play at the one table which the hotel afforded. Soon after, four English tourists came in, two of whom were gentlemen, while the other two were inclined to besnobbish. The two latter looked upon the game for a while with disgust, wishing to have the table themselves, and evidently, by their remarks and actions, were looking for some way to mildly insult us. At last one of them backed up to the fire, which was in an open grate, lifted his coat-tails with a deal of satisfaction, and remarked so loudly that we could not fail to hear, "This is the only thing an Englishman ever turns his back upon -- a good fire in a grate." The intent of the remark was so plain that it could not help being noticed, as it was at once by my friend, who turned to the Englishman, and in a quiet manner remarked, "You must have forgotten Bunker Hill and New Orleans." It occurred to him as soon as he had spoken that there might be an objection to Bunker Hill, but there was no need to make a correction, for the fellow, muttering something, left the room, followed by his friend. His other two countrymen seemed to enjoy the retort, made our acquaintance, and we four passed a pleasant evening together.
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EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE.
(Editorial Correspondence.)
The North American Copperhead.
There was one character .de- veloped by the war which the political writers of the present generation appear to have neg- lected or overlooked-a character so unnatural and so unexpected, so conspicuous and so potent in all the years of the war, as to merit a separate page to per- petuate its infamy. I refer, of course, to the North American copperhead.
The slight of a creature so over-flowing with contemptuous enmity against the national gov- emment and its adherents, from whatever cause, is no less a crime against the patriotic vir- tue of loyal Americans than would be an equal slight of those who fought the battles and pre- served the unity of the nation.
It is true, the patriotism and the purposes of the union vol- unteer have been recognized and recorded, and his place upon the pages of our national history is alike honorable and enviable ; the brave men of the South who fought us so hard and so long are remembered in kindness and sympathy, and all honorable Americans are proud of the record of their valor and their heroism ; but the copperhead, that cowardly political assassin who lurked in the rear of our armies, is passed over in com- parative silence, and children in their teens to-day have little knowledge of a character so vi-
mulent and so hostile to the cause in which we were engaged. In- deed, a just and true apprecia- tion of the services and sacrifices of the loyal men of the North is impossible without a full knowl- edge and a clear understanding of the purposes and practices of that persistent and implacable host of traitorous cowards who gloried in the derisive title of copperheads.
Who were they, and why were they called copperheads ? In some of our southern states is found a dangerous reptile of the rattlesnake family, best known as the copperhead. His home is in dark holes of the earth, under stones and rubbish, and he is sometimes seen in the tall grass of the meadows, but rarely ever in the bright sun- light. He seldom leaves his place of abode except forced by hunger or to gratify his insatia- ble passion for destroying with his deadly fangs creatures above him and better than he. In his native home he is recognized and regarded as the embodiment of all that is hideous and hateful, of all that is mean and mali- cious, and of all that is vile and venomous. In the early days of the war, by common consent, this expressive term was most fittingly applied to the enemies of the union in the northern or free states. It is a title, it is true, that flatters him -that poorly represents the baseness of his ingratitude and that fee-
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bly indicates the contemptible meanness that characterized all his political acts when the unity of the nation was trembling in the balance and loyal men were struggling with their lives to maintain and perpetuate it.
It was he who assured the men of the South in their mad- ness that the people of the North would tamely submit to separation or slavery, and that should any resistance by organ- ized force to their proposed scheme for separation and dis- union be offered, "the streets of the North would run with gore."
It was he who in almost every county of every loyal State sent forth his vile sheets, poisoning the springs of patriotism with his venom and bofouling the streams of loyalty with his slimy influ- ence. It was he who with a passion born of unalloyed cus- sedness denominated the immor- tal Lincoln an " ape " and loyal soldiers " Lincoln's . hirelings," and publicly expressed the hope that those who volunteered to fight for the " Lincoln govern- ment " might never return. In- human and senseless as a Span- ish ball at the sight of a red rag, the presence of our national emblem, the stars and stripes, would rouse his base passions to frenzy, and language could not express the contempt he mani- fested for the flag we love and for which so miny of our brav- est and best gave their lives to sustain.
It was he who opposed with
every device devils could invent or suggest, every means and ev- erymeasure designed to augment or to make more efficient our armies in the field and our fleets upon the sea. When we were sad in defeat and when thousands of our comrades were lying life- less on the field; when other thousands were wounded and dying, and still other thousands less fortunate were on their way to the prison pens of the South, there to suffer the tortures of slow murder ; and when our homes were filled with sorrow and anguish, mourning their sad losses, he would come forth from his abode with a satanic smile upon his fiendish face and dance and howl with joy until the scene was changed - until our armies were again victorious.
Ay, it was he who in the dark- est days of the war, when our armies were depleted and unpaid; when the moral influence of every civilized nation of the whole earth, save one, was against us ; when England, whom we have been taught to revere as our worthy maternal ancestor, proved a remorseless old mother-in-law and while af- fecting neutrality as between the contending parties, openly aided organized rebellion in its efforts to destroy the only remaining republican government in all the earth, and with her men and means directed by a Confederate pirate, swept the ocean of our commerce, the sad effects of which we yet suffer and deplore ;
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when the cloven hoof of the de- generate Frenchman was upon the neck of prostrate Mexico and in threatening attitude he stood impatiently waiting the expiring breath of the last republic, that he might leap forth to plunder and to share the spoils of a broken union, of a ruined re- publie !-- it was then the de- praved reptiles, the brazen cop- per heads, met in joyful conclave, animated and controlled a great political convention that voted the war for the suppression of the rebellion a failure and demanded peace at any price, even to the plant- ing of despotisms upon this freedom consecrated soil of ours. Then it was, the autumn and carly winter of '64, we experi- enced our supremest peril, and well for us our sight was veiled, that we knew it not; but now we tremble as we realize how near we stood to the slip- pery brink of the dark abyss of disunion, anarchy and woe. During all these days of doubt and of danger, when all the elements of darkness seemed conspired against us, the copper- head was in eestacies, but Five Forks and the consequent evac- nation of Richmond and Peters- burg in the spring of '65 drove him hopeless to his hole, from which he emerged in a body to curse the nation but a single time more. When Appomattox was won and the men in gray who had fought us in vain so long willingly laid down their
arms and gladly returned to their homes, when a single flag with many stars waved over a nation reunited and free indeed, when we realized that the great object for which we had so long contended had at last been ac- complished, and when the whole patriotic North was ablaze with patriotic joy and delight, intelli- gence flashed forth from the Capitol that our beloved Presi- dent had been shot by the hand of a confederate assassin ! Never in the life of any nation were grief and gladness so suddenly commingled. Instantly strong men were weeping in their smiles and smiling in their tears. Brave Confederates who had sought so persistently to disrupt the union of the states, freely expressed their great sorrow and deep regrets for this causeless crime that had bereft a nation of its lawful head, and cast a cloud of gloom over all the land. But it was a gala day for the copperheads-their last glad day on earth. They were insane with joy, and insulted every loyal soul they met with blasphemous expressions of pleasure and delight. They even praised God! their god, the devil, for this crowning act in the closing scene of all those tragic years.
In his memorable address at the dedication of the monument at Gettysburg, President Lin- coln gave expression to the pure sentiments of his great heart when he said " with malice
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towards none, but with charity for all," etc. But I am con- strained to believe that he had. in mind only the erring men of the South who freely offered their lives for the cause in which they were engaged. In any event, when I remember that through the acts and influence
of the accursed copperheads the war was extended more than two long years, and in con- sequence more than 200,000 loyal lives were lost, I am free to confess that my charity ends and my malice begins at small- pox, yellow fever and copper- heads. H. C. HALL.
WHAT THE COMRADES HAVE TO SAY.
A Comrade's Story.
At the engagement of Black Run, while the regiment was drawn up in line on the crest of the hill, Gen. Smith, Col. Cilley and Maj. Chad- bourne were dismounted and seated at the foot of a large oak tree, to the front of the regiment and about half- way down the hill, preparing to make a square meal from a ten cent box of sardines. A short distance to the right stood James T. Williams, acting orderly, who had one eye on that box of sardines and the other on his horse, thinking, no doubt, how he could cap- ture that box. Just about that time Col. Cilley looked up from his dinner, and seeing Williams, ordered him to bring them some hard-tack to go with the sardines. As Williams turned to his horse, there was a yell from the woods below, and a column of gray- backs came charging out upon the road. Gen. Smith and Major Chad- bourne immediately sprang upon their horses and dashed up the hill to the regiment. Col. Cilley was less fortu- nate. His horse had started down the hill in the direction of the Johnnies. He called to Williams, who was al- ready mounted, to bring his horse. Williams immediately dashed down the hill at the top of his horse's speed, overtaking the colonel's horse within ten feet of the rebs, who ordered him to surrender. but with a " Go to -"
he wheeled and dashed back to where Col. Cilley stood, revolver in hand, amidst a shower of bullets. Col. Cilley was soon in the saddle, and both he and Williams escaped without a scratch. What troubled him most was to know what became of that box of sardines.
(See pp. 290 -- 292, History.)
Letter from James T. Williams. SALISBURY POINT STATION,
Feb. 14th, 1891.
My Dear General, - The BUGLE received ; many thanks. I do not know whether I gave you a dollar for the same at our last reunion or not, the boys were all after me so when I ar- rived, but to make sure, I will enclose ȘI as I do not wish to be behind in anything that will tend to keep the gal- lant old First Maine Cavalry before the public. I wrote Comrade Tobie a few days ago, giving him an account of your narrow escape at Black Run with sardines thrown in. I shall be pleased to assist you in any way; you have only to command ; you know I was always a good boy to obey or- ders while under you. I was unable to attend the last banquet on account of sickness; had not been out for a weck at the time. Shall hope to see you at Detroit if not before.
Yours forever, J. T. WILLIAMS.
(See p. 523, History.)
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WHAT THE COMRADES HAVE TO SAY.
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Letter from W. W. Williams, Co. D. Tenth New York Cavalry, and Orderly for General Gregg.
ROME, N. Y. Sept. Ist, 1890. EDWARD P. TOBIE,
Dear Comrade -- I received a copy of the FIRST MAINE BUGLE not long ago and I am greatly pleased with it - not with the book alone, but with the object aimed at. In the course of time you will be able to publish a full and correct history of the gallant old regiment. I have a copy of your his- tory and I have discovered a few errors and omissions.
( Page 170, Comrade Co. M.) The night of June 20th, Gen. Gregg's headquarters were in Middleburg at the hotel. About eight or nine P. M. he called for an orderly. I answered the call. He called me into a room and said, " I am going to send you to Thoroughfare Gap to bring up Col. Taylor's brigade ; here are the orders ; read them so you will be sure to re member them, then hide the despatch in the lining of your clothes, and if you see there is a probability of your being captured, be sure and destroy the despatch ; then if you succeed in getting through you will know what the orders were; better take a man with you, and hurry back." I took Parker G. Lunt, We got through all right. It must have been past midnight when I found Col. Taylor. I asked him how soon he would start. Said he, " As soon as light." Parker and I were very tired, so we lay down to get a little rest. If the brigade started that early we would get back to headquarters soon enough. Gen. Gregg got uneasy because we did not come back as soon as he thought we should, and concluded we had been "picked up." So he sent a sergeant and ten or twelve men, but they did not get half way before the Johnnies
run them back. After they reported, then the general called for a squad- ron, so you see the First Maine was instrumental in bringing the brigade.
( Page 229, Jan. Ist, 1864. ) The divi- sion, under command of General Gregg left Warrenton about noon, camped the first night in a grove near Orleans. The grove might protect a person from the sun in summer, but it was no protection from cold that night. I froze both great toes so that they peeled after- wards. Next day, going over the mountains at a place called Black Rock we found a small distillery. Those in advance, most of them, got their can- teens full of the liquor, but when head- quarters came up the orders were to destroy it. When the barrels were overturned the whiskey ran out on the frozen ground and every imprint of a hoof or foot filled with whiskey, and the soldiers got down on their bellies and drank it off the ground. We camped at Front Royal that night. Next morning I saw about a squadron move out. I thought it was the ad- vance guard, and decided to go with them. When we had fairly entered Manassas Gap I saw some horses on the side of the mountain to my left. I caught the best looking one, and the owner came and begged of me not to take the horse as it was a broken- down army horse that General Mc- Clellan gave him, and that was all he had to " make his crap with." When I had talked with him a few minutes, I looked for the advance guard, but they had passed out of sight, and I could see nothing of the main column coming. The thought came to me that I had better look for friends. When I rode down into the road again I saw a cavalryman with a blue over- coat on ride down the mountain on my right. He rode along the run in the direction I was going : I thought
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him one of the advance guard. I could see where he would cross the run by a mill and come into the road where I was, by a house. I thought to over- take him and ride along with him. When I arrived at the house he was about eight or ten rods from me. I stopped and was about to call to him to hurry up, when he raised his revol- ver and fired at me. I got my revolver as soon as I could, and when we had exchanged a couple of shots apiece. two men came out of the house. I thought they might be loaded for me too, so I got out of range. When I had rid- den a while I met a squad coming back to ascertain the cause of the firing. When we had overtaken the rest, I learned that what I had supposed was the advance guard was a hundred men detailed to go through to Warren- ton with despatches that night, and Captain Wallstein Phillips was bearer of the despatches. He gave me some fatherly advice about foraging on my own hook. At Salem in a large white house we found quite a party of young people assembled, and among them were four or five rebels with their new uniforms on. When our men took them out there were many tears shed by the ladies. Those that were not crying were hurling their choicest epi- thets at us. We rode on a few miles farther and found a rebel soldier that had been with the army of Northern Virginia for two years. He had just put his horse in an old shed and was in the house ( " too cold to sit on fence that day") shaking hands with his mother and sister, when he was ordered to fall in. We arrived at Warrenton about dark ; Captain Phillips procured a fresh mount and escort and then proceeded to Cavalry Corps head- quarters.
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