USA > New Hampshire > History of the Twelfth regiment, New Hampshire volunteers in the war of the rebellion > Part 44
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The doctor listened patiently awhile, looking his patient sternly in the face. and then he opened his tongue battery upon him with such telling effect, calling him anything but a man worthy of either medicine or mercy, that soon the reverend warrior, who was first made to feel ashamed of himself, began to get mad, which was just what the professor of physic was aiming at. And so he kept firing away, sending shot after shot of ridicule, sarcasm, and abuse at his patient, until the latter could not stand it any longer, and, with a face red with anger, ordered the doctor to leave his quarters.
After the chaplain was left alone and his passion had subsided a little, he began to reflect that he had been listening to a good deal of truth, if it was told him with little regard to politeness; and, after
* See page 57, et seq.
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seriously considering the matter awhile, he resolved to take the doctor's advice to get up and show that he had some spunk and courage, instead of being frightened to death at nothing but his own imaginations.
The doctor had a good deal of faith in his prescription, and was therefore more pleased than surprised to have the chaplain ride up to him. a few days afterward, and express great obligations for receiving from him sharp words instead of bitter pills, for they had been the means of saving his life.
Now mark the contrast between the last and the following :
" Then you want me to tell you just what I think of your chances to get well, do you?" said the rebel surgeon to Lieutenant Durgin, as he lay surrounded by many other wounded soldiers of the Union army after the battle of Chancellorsville.
" Yes, doctor. I do, for I want to know the worst : and I hope that I am as well prepared to meet the great enemy of the human race as I was the enemies of my country."
" Well, lieutenant, I am sorry to tell you that I do not think that you have more than one chance in a hundred."
" Trusting that He who multiplied the loaves and fishes will increase my chances, I shall try hard to believe you are mistaken, doctor."
And for many years he lived to joke about how little the rebel surgeons knew about the mysterious ways of Providence.
" Bury him in the orchard there as soon as he dies, and then hurry up and join the regiment."
These were the words that Corporal Farrar heard spoken to the com- rade who had been left with him as he lay in a rebel's house prostrate from a terrible wound just received in one of the fights to cut off Lee's retreat after evacuating Richmond. But the brave-hearted corporal liked neither the time nor place of his burial, and concluded in his own mind that the ceremony should be postponed, notwithstanding the surgeon had said that he could not live two hours. After three days of patient wait- ing, his attending comrade, encouraged by the apparently improving con- dition of his charge, started out early in the morning to find an ambulance if he could, to convey the corporal to some place where he could be prop- erly cared for. It was late in the evening when he returned with the object of his search. With what joy he was received by the suffering soldier the reader may try, but in vain, to imagine.
" That." said Corporal Farrar, " was the longest day of my life. With the uncertainty when or where any of our forces might then be found, even if my comrade was fortunate enough to escape capture him- self ; with the weak and helpless condition that I was in, still trembling between life and death, and so near the latter that an hour's delay might
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make his return, if he came at all, too late ; and the old rebel in whose house I was left, looking and acting as if he would like, from hatred instead of pity, to put me out of my misery, each hour came so heavily laden with such severe suffering and discouraging apprehensions that it seemed as if it would never pass."
A few days later and the corporal found himself in the " death ward" of a general hospital, from which he was the only patient, save one, who lived to come out alive, although supposed to be one of the first to die when he went in. Two or three months later he went home on a furlough.
Nearly thirty years of grave-filling have passed since he was left to be buried far away on the banks of the Appomattox, but he still lives, as hopeful, if not as active, as ever, and can tip the scales any day at two hundred and sixty-five pounds ! *
" If you have any business to do or word to send home, you had better attend to it at once, captain, as I fear you cannot live but a short time."
The plucky commander of Company E, with bullets enough in his body to kill any common man, looked up quizzically into the surgeon's face for half a moment, as if to see that he was not joking, and then replied : " You go to h-1, doctor, if you want to, but don't think you are going to take me along with you just yet, for I don't propose to start until some time after this war is over."
He has not started yet, and before he does it is hoped that he will con- clude to go in the opposite direction.
These are but a few of the many instances of heroic fortitude and indomitable conrage exhibited by the brave-hearted soldiers of the Twelfth when in more hopeless places than on the field of battle ; and let it not be forgotten that of such are they - some of them but mere boys - who did so much to immortalize the record of the regiment. But not of this keen-tempered mettle are all mankind possessed. Some, as already shown by the chaplain's case, are born for paths of peace and have no business in the ranks of war: and it would be ridiculously false to say that the Twelfth had none of this latter class on its rolls. Though able in muscle they were weak in the nerve to face the cannon's mouth ; and if by chance were confronted with imminent danger would become as helpless oftentimes as a child. Their will was good, and some of them, who were honest-hearted and proud-spirited, would have given many times their pay for the physical courage to do and dare like their brother comrades. Such ones were, of course, more to be pitied than blamed ; and when recognized as undoubtedly belonging to this Quaker order, were usually treated leniently by their officers and comrades, though not always with that respect, perhaps, which they really deserved.
* Deceased since the above was written.
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Beside the two classes above mentioned, there is another always to be found in the ranks of a new regiment, of which the Twelfth had its full share. The men -if they can properly be called such - that belonged to this class were those who never possessed the true elements of honor- able manhood, and whose base and selfish natures were not changed by taking a solemn oath. when they enlisted, to be true to the cause of their country. They could perform their part but would not; had both the courage and the strength. but neither the desire nor disposition ; and out of which came nearly all the . bummers," " coffee-coolers," and deserters that disgraced the service.
To play sick was one of their favorite games and rheumatism was usually their most successful hand. Though regular attendants at sur- geon's call they were always ready to " fall in for rations" or to eat their full allowance when carried to them.
On the march, if obliged to go, they were sure to be the first catch of the rear guard and no matter how persistently urged along or closely watched, when the battle-line was formed they were not there. Some- times, when unable to dodge the rear guard or to get a surgeon's pass to the rear by pretending to be sick, they would wound or disable themselves with the double object of keeping out of an impending battle. and getting into the hospital or their final discharge. This was usually done by shooting or cutting off a thumb, finger, or toe, or sending a bullet through their hand or foot, instances of this kind being within the memory of every old veteran.
Imperative justice demands that to the undying honor and glory of the brave and noble heroes who never flinched from duty, but followed the flag of their country through privation, hardship, and danger until dis- abled by sickness or wounds, relieved by death, or discharged because their services were no longer needed, the readers of to-day should know. and future generations have the chance to learn, that their duties were harder, their burdens heavier, and their sufferings greater because of being obliged to perform that part of the work which belonged to, but was shirked by, their unworthy and recreant associates.
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THE LIGHT OF EXPERIENCE.
It was a common expression among the rebel soldiers who came into our lines voluntarily, as thousands of them did during the last year of the conflict, that it was " the rich man's war, and the poor man's fight." The blinding scales of ignorance, without which the great American Rebellion would never have been, were melted from their eyes by the fire of battle, and they were permitted at last to see, as did Saul of Tarsus, that they had been fighting without light against the right, and at once grounded their arms of rebellion. And here it may be stated as a fact, though many may question or contradict it, that but for this new light and its influence and effect upon the rank and file of the Confederate army it would prob- ably have taken as many years of war to have preserved this Government, as it did to establish it, if indeed it could have been sustained at all. For as true as one of the ablest defenders of the " lost cause" fell on the field of battle by the bullets of his own men, so true it is that the cause would have been much longer sustained, if ever lost, but for the fatal wounds it received in the house of its friends.
The vile serpent of treason saw the tree of knowledge in the middle of the garden of national peace and prosperity, and stung itself to death. All potent truth, operating on the mental rank and file of Lee's army, did more to disintegrate and destroy it, during the last few months of the war, than all the generalship of his great and successful antagonist.
" Do you think you could be induced to take up arms against the Gov- ernment again to perpetuate that institution?" asked the writer of an ex-Confederate soldier in Tennessee who had just expressed his gladness that the great evil of human slavery no longer degraded the South or divided the nation. "Yes, sir, with the same light," replied he, with particular emphasis on the last four words. And in this short adjunctive clause of four simple monosyllables is embodied a whole volume of the blood-stained pages of our country's history that posterity may well read and reflect upon ; for it may there learn the true secret of the rise and fall of the greatest and most causeless rebellion " that ever existed since Luci fer led his cohort of apostate angels against the throne of Omnipotence."
Slowly but surely as the precession of the equinoxes, the world is moving, not backward, but forward and upward toward a higher plane of intellectual and moral existence ; and the time must soon come when artil- lery duels between nations, like the practice of the false code of honor among individual citizens, will be known and found only in the history of the barbarous relics of the past. Already two of the greatest and most enlightened nations of the world, of which we are proud to know that our own is one, have bravely set the example of international arbitration.
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Save with a few half savage tribes of the "dark continent " the ipse dixit of kings is no longer a law that can be disobeyed only upon the penalty of death. No ruler of the nineteenth century could or can say, as did Frederick the Great. " I am the state." And the only one who has, for the last hundred years, fought to make his will supreme, met his fate at Waterloo, and yielded up the sceptre of his power, not to England or the allied powers, but to the " rising genius of universal emancipation."
"OLD TOM."
The following touching tribute to the memory of Major Savage's old war horse, that lived over twenty years after the war, was written by the major's son-in-law. John W. Currier, Esq.
Old Tom is dead ! As this is read.
What reminiscences of field and camp,
Of sickness, hunger, long and weary tramp :
Of dreadful strife, of ghastly wounds and death,
Of prison pens with foul and stifling breath ;
Of home and friends and peace of twenty years,
Rush through the soldier's mind and bring the tears.
Though but a horse, how well his part he bore "Midst shot and shell And rebel yell ; "Midst cannon's roar And scenes of gore Unflinchingly he went ! and who did more?
Old Tom is dead ! How oft 't was said. " Here come the Major and Old Tom " : How cheers arose as they passed on : How proud he was, with step so high. With head erect and flashing eye ! He seemed to know he was himself A member of the brave old Twelfth.
Old Tom is dead ! And thus 't was said Of Major when. two years ago. Amidst the winter's blinding snow. He passed the picket-line of life. Both now lie low beyond all strife, Both steed and rider gone ; they rest. Their honor bright. their memory blest.
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A BOX FROM HOME.
This history would be incomplete without a few words written about the boxes that used to be received by the "boys" from the loved and loving ones at home. Thousands of these were sent from every state, especially when the different regiments were stationed where they would be likely to get them before moving ; and hundreds were received by members of the Twelfth while at Falmouth and Point Lookout. A letter would first give notice that one had been started, and then how impa- tiently its arrival was awaited. And when, at last-for frequently weeks and sometimes months would pass before they would get transportation through - the box would reach camp, how the heart would beat quicker and the countenance brighten, as the happy recipient with quick feet and hands would carry it to his quarters, and pry, pull, and twist at the double-nailed, iron-banded cover until his eager eyes could see and his hungry tongue taste, the good things that lie so closely packed beneath.
And it was surprising how much a loving mother, wife, or sisters would manage to pack into a little space of less than half the size of an ordinary shoe-box. Here, so far as it goes, is a fair sample schedule : A loaf each of brown and white bread ; a lot of gingerbread, cookies, and dough- nuts ; two or three meat pies ; a large sweet cake ; four or five pounds of cheese ; a large can of boiled cider apple sauce, a small jar of pickles, and another of sauce or preserves ; pears, peaches, and grapes, if in season, and some apples from his favorite tree ; some hickory or chestnuts, and a jack-knife " from brother John "; some maple sugar or store can- dies, and a comb, or mending case " from sister Jane"; with many other things more useful than eatable that had been sent for perhaps by the receiver, or thought of by the sender of the box as necessary to the sol- dier's comfort and health.
Now, reader, is it strange that a box like this was considered a treas- ure, and especially when you considered it came from home ? And is it any wonder that when they came by the wagon load, as they sometimes did, that there was a regular gala-day in the camp of the Twelfth? But this, like everything else in this life (how can we otherwise than hope it different in the next ), had its shaded and sometimes sorrowful side. It was bad enough after so much care and cost of preparing and sending, to have part of the contents spoiled from being needlessly long on the way : or the whole lost or stolen and never received at all. But think, O reader, and let tears follow the thought, of the feelings of that mother or that wife, to say nothing of father, brothers, and sisters, who, while she anxiously waited to hear from the box by a letter from the cherished one to whom she had sent it, received instead a letter from his captain or tent-mate, stating that he died or was killed a short time before or perhaps on the very day that his box from home arrived in camp.
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DRUM CORPS.
An essential part of every regimental organization is the drum corps. Its purpose is not to drown the groans of the wounded and dying, as the boys used to be told in ante-bellum times, for drums and fifes seldom get so far to the front when the battle rages, but to cheer up the soldiers in camp as well as on the march, beat the different calls, and carry the wounded from the field of death when the battle is over.
It must not be supposed, however, that the musicians during a battle, where they act as stretcher-bearers, are always back beyond reach of the enemy's shot, for this would often be further to the rear than the amputation tables and field hospitals to which the wounded are carried. And some- times the stretcher-bearers are required to expose themselves for a short time nearly or quite as much as if they were in the line of battle ;
" And some there are who can truthfully tell Of hair-breadth escapes from the enemy's shell,"
Who carried a stretcher instead of a musket during the war. The soldier of the line, though he stands in the midst, and takes an active part in the work of destruction, strange as it may at first seem, knows little of the real sufferings and horrors of the inhuman carnage that surrounds him. He hears, perhaps, the death shriek of a comrade, as he falls by his side, and sees the blood oozing from the mortal wound ; he heeds it not in the excitement of the hour for he is too intent in the work of killing the enemy to think of his comrades, or even of the danger of being killed himself.
But how changed and different with him whose duty it is to visit the fresh field of carnage where the pitiful cries of the wounded mingle with the groans of the dying, and where every tender and humane feeling of the soul is shocked with heart-sickening scenes of blood. This perhaps may be best illustrated by the following incident :
George Aiken, the good-hearted and able-minded fifer of Company B, had often discussed with one of his comrades the question of justifying the shedding of blood upon Christian principles, he contending for the affirmative, when the cause, like our own, was right and just. But soon the terrible carnage of Chancellorsville opened his eyes to a new revela- tion or, rather, his mind to a correct understanding of the old ; and about his first salutation after returning from that sanguinary field was : " Well, B-, I have become a convert to your doctrine. My eyes have con- vinced me of what your tongue could n't, and I fully agree with you now that God never instituted any such way as this to settle disputes, whether just or unjust."
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But the musicians had something to do in the camp as well as on the field. From the reveille of early morn to the bed-time taps the service of the drum and fife was regularly in demand. After the reveille came the more welcome breakfast call, next the surgeon's call, then the orderly's and drill call, and the double-drag beat for dinner. In the after- noon came the assembly for battalion or brigade drill, the recall, the playing of the whole corps at dress parade. the retreat at sundown, next the tattoo, and lastly taps." They were also required in many regiments to act as camp orderlies,- their tents being pitched near by the colonel's quarters, within easy call when wanted .- one being usually in waiting at the colonel's tent all the time for this purpose : having. therefore, to take their turn on duty, and while the other men did the watching they had to do the running. But there is this important difference, however, between the drum and the gun in military service : The former ends its beat at 9 o'clock and turns in for a night's rest, while the latter has to renew its " beat " and turn out every four hours when on guard no mat- ter what time of night or what kind of weather. It will be seen, therefore, that the hardships, dangers, and responsibilities of the gun are greater than the drum, and that the former has a claim to higher honors.
With this much for the benefit of those who may read this history when the rules and usages of war will, it is hoped. be less familiar to the people of this country than even at the present time, a brief account will now be given of the drum corps of the Twelfth.t
When the twenty knights of the drum and fife -two from each com- pany - first came together at "Camp Belknap" in Concord, they were quite as verdant in the practice of music as in the science of war. With one or two exceptions they had enlisted as musicians, not so much because they were, as because they wanted to be such : thinking, perhaps, if allowed to make their own music, they would not be obliged to face the music of the enemy. It is doubtful if there were half of the drummers that knew a " flam" # from a " ferrididdle," # or two-four time from six- eight ; and the fifers were but little better, although two or three of them could play quite well. But think not there was any lack of native talent or ambition in this crude score of ear-distractors, for the development of both was soon apparent, though not so much in the greater harmony and sweeter melody of the players as in the consummate strategy and shrewd tactics used by some of them to see who should have the undying honor of being leader, and be promoted to the high rank of drum major! Had the Darwinian process of natural instead of self-selected fitness been allowed to decide a contest so vital to the weal or woe of the regiment. all would have been well ; but Fate, through Colonel Potter as a humble instrument, after a long and fierce struggle, reaching from Concord to Arlington Heights, otherwise directed, and the doom of one man at least was fixed. This poor fellow's name was Skinner, of Company I, and not being willing to skin other folks skunks he concluded to " skin out ": In
* See next page. + See anecdote. # Names of primary strokes by the old teachers.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
other words, not getting his deserts, as he thought, he deserted! He was a natural musician, a good drummer, and splendid fifer, and should have been appointed to lead the corps.
His successful competitor, from the same company, now took command : and under the potent sway of his " toad-sticker" (a name derisively given to a kind of sword designed for non-commissioned officers, but soon dis- carded as useless) the drum corps became an organized reality. But the elements of discord existed, and there was more harmony in their music, even, than among the players until the " boss " concluded to resign his position and seek what he soon obtained, a discharge from the service. After this, peace and brotherly love prevailed, and they were allowed to select their own leader, which they did, taking turns by common consent until January 1, 1864, when James S. Baker, of Company E, was regularly appointed "principal musician." The next and only other one to hold that position, according to the records, was Ira C. Evans, of Company C, who was appointed just four months later. When, in April, 1863, the regiment sent to Washington to get a saddle and bridle to give the Colonel, they also bought a base drum for the musicians, and Ira M. Rollins was selected by them to beat it, which he did until the end of the war. Though once stolen it was recovered, and still may be heard, sounding as loud as ever under the vigorous and well-timed blows of its veteran master, at the regimental reunions.
In addition to the regular camp calls enumerated on the preceding page, there should have been mentioned the adjutant's and police call for the forenoon, and the drummer's call for almost any time of day.
Several recruits joined the corps at Point Lookout, of whom, William O. Little, of Company D, died in the service, and Thomas Dalton, of the same company, was killed in front of Petersburg .*
Of the original twenty, one was accidentally shot before leaving Con- cord, one died of small-pox, one was promoted to sergeant-major, and one deserted, leaving but seven, beside those who were discharged for disability during the war, or from hospital at its close, to come home with the regiment, of whom five are still living. Their names are Jacob Hanson, James S. Baker, Ira C. Evans, George W. Pitman, George C. Currier, Amos Damon, and Ira M. Rollins, whose pictures and life sketches will all appear in another chapter.
It is a little remarkable that two of the veterans of the fife and drum, Damon and Evans, went out and came home together as fifer and drum- mer of Company C, and that both can still make merry music together, though the former was over seven and one half years more than twice as old as the latter - who was born April 16, 1841 -when they enlisted in August, 1862.t
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