USA > New Hampshire > History of the Twelfth regiment, New Hampshire volunteers in the war of the rebellion > Part 50
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He had not anticipated the money-making part of his culinary effort, and was all the more pleased to see how nicely the pleasure and profit of eating and selling run together. But one day there came a sad end to his newly established business. Ilis fat caught fire, the fire caught the tent, and all save the cook and his kettle went up in smoke.
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APRIL FOOL PIES.
It was the morning of the first day of April, 1864. Many of the officers' wives still remained in camp at Point Lookout, although it was expected every day that the regiment would receive marching orders.
Albert Newell, of Company B, had for some time been acting as chief cook for the officers, assisted with now and then a hint and a dab from their wives, who hated to acknowledge themselves beaten at their own trade by a man. Albert was thinking what he would have for dinner when all at once he jumped at an idea and - caught it. " Now I have it," he says, talking to himself and pleased with the catch, "and bruise my elbows, if I don't give these ladies a lesson in cooking that will refresh itself in their memories every April Fool's day so long as they live."
So, to prove his words by his acts, he at once proceeded to tangibly formulate his new idea, and knowing that "the test of the pudding is the eating" he determined to have the sample test ready for dinner, chuckling to himself at the thought, as he mixed up the ingredients, that without the condiments there would be more test than taste.
Now it happened that nearly all of the mess were very fond of mince pies, and to have them just right every wife of course had to have a finger in the mince if not in the pie. But for this meal the cook had followed his own recipe and brought forward for a camp-mess dessert some as nice-looking, newly-baked pies as had been seen since the rich, brick-oven specimens of their youthful days; and they were all the more welcome because nothing so delicious was that day expected. So no sooner seen, than expressions of commingled pleasure and surprise arose from all sides of the table.
" Why, Albert, why hadn't you let us know and we'd have assisted you," exclaimed one of the ladies.
" Yes, indeed, we would, " chimed in another, " but I guess he's beaten us all."
"""' Too many cooks spoil the broth,' you know," replied the cook. "So I thought I'd ' go it alone' this time," and he went just in time to save his head from a hot plaster of allspice except the molasses and sawdust.
POINT LOOKOUT.
The name of Point Lookout seemed especially applicable to that place by the soldiers of the New Hampshire brigade stationed there during the Winter of 1863-64, for they had to be constantly on the lookout, as we have seen, watching for desertions from their own as well as escapes from the prisoners' camp ; and the amount of vigilance required, as divided between the " subs " and the " rebs," was for a while about the same.
The following incident, however, relates to the latter :
Just at dusk, one day, a return working squad of prisoners was found by count to be three less than the number taken out. It was very evident they had hidden under one of the cook-houses, near which the squad had just passed, and
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after trying in vain to talk them out by pretending to know they were there, a search was made. Corporal Roderick, of Company F, volunteered to crawl under and ferret them out. After feeling about for some time he was about to give up, when he suddenly struck fresh scent in the smell of apples recently cut or bitten; and knowing then that his game was there, he with an extra effort pushed himself a little further ahead. and pulled out by the heels two of the miss- ing " Johnnies." They declared they knew nothing of the whereabouts of the other, but the corporal knowing better, but wishing to save another long crawl and tight squeeze, resorted to strategy. So, going into the cook-house and walk- ing heavily across the floor to the spot under which he had no doubt the missing man was lying, he said to one of his men, in quite a loud voice : " Send a bullet down through the floor right here," designating the spot by a stamp with his foot. This " cooked the possum," and the next instant was heard from below, the cry : " Don't shoot, I'll come," and he came.
A POINTED ANSWER.
Shoulder straps were frequently lowered a little when too highly worn by their proud owners to suit the taste of the chevroned " non-com," who were oftentimes a little envious, and not inclined to grant them any fur- ther liberties than the regulations allowed : and when they were found outside of these, but little mercy was shown, so far, at least, as wit and ridicule could go. Sometimes the soldier, when he knew his business better than the officer ( which was by no means uncommon ), would refuse to obey the orders given him, and then he would be arrested and an appeal taken to the colonel or regimental commander, resulting, per- haps, in his release from arrest, and a sharp reprimand to the officer.
At other times when disputes arose between an officer and one of his men. the latter, regardless of guard-house or court-martial, would hazard the unwarrantable authority of administering the reprimand himself; and at the same time try and convince his military superior, argumentum bae- ulinum, that in war, as well as law, there is always two sides to every question.
An amusing instance of this kind occurred one night, on the sentinel's walk around the rebel prisoners' pen, between a lieutenant and a corporal of the guard. The officer, wishing to prove by his vigilance that he was worthy the straps he had just donned, crept stealthily up the stairs onto the walk, and before the guard, who happened to be a little slow and easy, could halt and challenge him. grabbed hold of the barrel of the sentinel's gun just as it was brought down to a guard poise ; and thus making himself master of the situation, as he thought, he commeneed to lecture his man for being so easily surprised and captured, asking him what he would have done, if it had been an enemy that had thus stolen upon him. " This is what I would have done," came the quick, sharp response of the corporal, as equally quick and much sharper the point of his bayonet backed
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up the truth of his tongue by a penetrating touch in the officer's rear. Although for some days the officer never sat down without being sorely reminded of his discomfiture, still he never preferred charges against the corporal, who had so eleverly beaten him with his own tactics.
SNOWBALL BATTLE.
It was on the memorable 24th of March, '64, that the great Snowball Battle between the Second and Twelfth was fought. On the day and night of the 22d there had been a severe snow storm, which a rising tem- perature had converted into an ample supply of ammunition of the best quality. There was, at first, only a slight skirmish between some of the younger and more impetuous on the picket-line ; with no design or expec- tation of bringing on a pitched battle. But soon the reserves were drawn in, and falling back on the camp guard the battle became general, and a most spirited and determined engagement followed. There was charge and countercharge, while the cheer and jeer of the contending forces could be heard loud above the din of combat. The fighting was so fierce and at so short range that the contestants used their side-arms instead of their muskets, but the firing was all the more rapid, and balls filled the air on every hand. The Second, being more experienced fighters, gained at first some tactical advantages ; at one time coming very near executing a decisive flank movement by getting in the rear and taking the line of the Twelfth in reverse. Finally, after heavy losses (of patience and temper)
on both sides, and some of the raw recruits had commenced throwing solid shot in retaliation for wounds they had received, a few of the more daring stalwarts of the Twelfth charged on the enemy's centre, broke through his line and succeeded in capturing Colonel Bailey and carrying him on their shoulders triumphantly into their own camp. This decided the contest, and thus ended one of the most warmly contested but at the same time coldest conflicts of the war.
HIER PRAYER ANSWERED.
" A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, Is worth a whole lifetime in bondage."
By virtue of a license, more matter of fact than poetic, the writer has changed " eternity " into a single lifetime in the above couplet, for reasons to be found in the leading incident of this narrative, which made a deep impression upon the writer's mind at the time, and must, I think, more or less interest the reader now. *
* See page 165.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
One cold morning late in the Fall, just after roll-call, two or three boats were noticed nearing the Point, which, as they approached the landing, were scen to be loaded in part with negro refugees from the Virginia shore. The largest of these boats - which had evidently been built and used as a kind of freight barge - was rowed by four men and loaded, as those who stood watching supposed, with goods of some kind that they had taken with them. But no sooner had the boat touched the wharf, than was uncovered to our astonished eyes some twenty-five or thirty women and children of all ages, sizes, and colors, from the blue-eyed quadroon child in the arms of its darker-hued mother, to the ebon-faced but hoary-headed centenarian lying upon a feather bed in the stern of the boat. What a picture was this, to be looked upon by men from New England homes ! But the still more impressive was yet to come. All but this old woman were soon landed; and now, tenderly and carefully, by the strong arms that had rowed this boat load of human freight across the broad mouth of the Potomac, she is carried on her bed across the landing to the high ground and placed in the midst of those who accompanied her hither, and who now gather around, as if to shelter her from the chilling winds, and screen her from the too curious gaze of the surrounding soldiers. But from the midst of that strange group came sounds that awakened still greater interest in the minds of those who were fortunately near enough to hear. In tremulous but enthusiastic tones, from the glad heart of this aged matriarch of her race and kin, was heard the exclamation : "Thank de Lord! Thank de Lord that I am at last free !" and again in a few min- utes we catch the words : " De Lord be blessed for answering the prayer of my long and weary life before I die!" And with similar, oft-repeated utterances, she was carried off to the "Contraband Camp," where from the excitement and exposure of her exodus from the land of bondage to the Camp of Freedom, she soon breathed her last, still thanking God that she could die free.
Oh! what a lesson here to those who had been taught to believe, as some of us did, that slavery was of divine origin, the true normal condition of society, where the strong and the weak, the high and the low, are alike protected and all equally happy and contented.
THE SHAVER SHAVED.
Soon after landing upon Virginia soil from Point Lookout, a " sub " by the name of Layfever, of Company G, after two or three days' absence without leave, returned ; but stubbornly refused to give an account of himself until under the pains of punishment he owned up as follows :
He said that a certain barber of the place was driving the double trade of shav- ing Uncle Sam as well as his soldier-boy nephews ; and that for the sum of twenty dollars he would assist any soldier to desert, by having him rowed across the river into the rebel lines. He confessed to having paid the barber twenty dollars, but for some reason thought it not best to carry out his part of the programme. To test how much of fact this story contained, and safely dispose of the barber if it should prove true, Captains Barker and Bedee, disguising themselves as privates, proceeded to the barber-broker's headquarters and soon made a bargain
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with him to be rowed across the river in consideration of forty dollars, which they gave him. In the meantime Sergeant Clarke, of Company G, with Layfever as guide, and both armed with revolvers, had found and secreted themselves at the place designated on the bank of the river, and awaited the arrival of the bar- ber with his two fresh customers. But they were not so " fresh " as he had bar- gained for, and proved to be unexpectedly hard customers for him and his ferryman accomplice, who were both arrested, and after being made to disgorge their ill-gotten funds were turned over to the provost-martial for such disposition as a court-martial might see fit to make of them. Layfever afterward deserted again, jumped another bounty, and one day, some months later, Sergeant Clarke told Captain Bedee that he had seen their mutual friend in the ranks of another regiment.
The colonel of that regiment was informed of the supposed discovery, and readily consented to a review by Colonel Barker and his special staff of the Cap- tain and Sergeant. But contrary to military etiquette the Sergeant took the lead as they walked down the line, and, when opposite the man he was hunting for, turned to his superior officers, and pointing with his finger, inquired of them if they ever had seen that man before. They both were as sure as the Sergeant that they had; and notwithstanding the deserter's protests of innocence he was arrested, tried, and condemned as a deserter, but managed to make another and final skip before the extreme penalty of his crime could be executed upon him.
How To Do IT.
On the 9th of April, '64, the brigade had just halted near the Richmond & Petersburg Railroad when General Wistar rode up in front of the Twelfth and inquired if there were railroad men in the regiment.
Captain Shackford and five or six men at once stepped to the front and saluted. Addressing the Captain he inquired of him the quickest and most effectual way of destroying the road. With one eye half shut and the other wide open and full of fun, he advised as follows: "I think, General, if you want to save time and make a clean sweep, you had better detail the Twelfth New Hampshire to guard it !"
The General laughed at this unexpected repartee, and continued his conversa- tion with the Captain, thinking undoubtedly that he who was so quick at a joke would not be slow in his ideas how best to demolish a railroad.
"WHAT ARE YOU DODGING AT?"
It was on the Petersburg and Richmond turnpike. The regiment was exposed to a raking fire from a rebel battery just unlimbered on a hill about half a mile in advance. A young staff officer rides up to Captain Barker, commanding, and tries to deliver an order from General Wistar, but is too badly frightened to make himself understood.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
Finally the words, regiment, un-under, cov-cov-cover, were stammered out, and the Captain, first sending a hot shot of - impatience after the retreating form of the message-bearer, gave the command : " Attention Twelfth !" Just then a shell or solid shot came screeching down the turnpike, and so familiarly near that the boys made a polite bow to it, as soldiers are quite apt to do when these impulsive fellows come near enough to demand recognition. "What are you dodging at, boys? That shell didn't come within half a mile of you," exclaims one of the line officers who, hearing the order, was now approaching the line to take command of his company. Hardly has the last words left his lips, when who-o-i-s-h-sh-sh comes a shell within a few feet of the speaker's head which he instinctively ducks nearly to the ground. " What are you dodging at, Lieutenant?" was at once the repetition and answer of his own question by half a score of voices. accompanied by a peal of laughter in which the officer was obliged to join, and the memory of which makes him smile as he writes these lines.
SOUTH CAROLINA v. MASSACHUSETTS.
One of the most significant and remarkable coincidences of the whole war, if the story is true, occurred at the battle of Swift Creek. It was known by the author at the time, that the severest fighting of that day was between South Carolina and Massachusetts troops, and that two regi- ments, at least, one from each State, wore the same number ; but for the following additional facts, which seem stranger than fiction, he is indebted to George E. Potter, of the Twenty-fifth Massachusetts, in the history of which can be found an extended account, fully verifying his statements.
From this authority it appears, that not only one but three regiments from each of these old rival states met, face to face, to decide on the field of battle what had long been disputed between them in their country's forum ; and that these regiments consisted of the Twenty-third, Twenty-fifth, and Twenty- seventh Massachusetts Volunteers in one brigade, against the Twenty-third, Twenty-fifth, and Twenty-seventh South Carolina troops in the opposing brigade ! The commander of the Palmetto chivalry, seeing himself stubbornly resisted by regiments under the Bay State colors, ordered his Twenty-fifth to charge ; and, as if by design, it was the Twenty-fifth Massachusetts (instead of the reverse, as was once boastfully predicted) that " welcomed them with bloody hands to hospitable graves." Colonel Pickett, observing that the rebels in his front were getting ready to charge, ordered his men to cease firing ; and when within thirty yards range, he gave the command, " Fire!" every bullet, nearly, found its man, and Sumner was avenged.
CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM.
" Pity and need make all flesh kin."
Sergeant Osgood, of Company C, was wounded in his leg at the battle of the Relay House, and soon found himself lying in an ambulance by the side of a Confederate soldier who was suffering severely from a bad
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wound in his thigh. Noticing the perspiration in great drops upon the prisoner's face, the Sergeant raised himself upon his elbow, and with his own handkerchief kindly wiped the face and brow of his fellow passenger. After repeating this two or three times in silence, the Confederate com- menced the following conversation :
" Well, this is unexpectedly good and kind in you, Sergeant, but how strange ! Here are two deadly enemies, side by side, and one is wiping the sweat from the other's brow."
" Enemies ! I did not know that we were enemies before."
" Why, you belong to the Union army, don't you?"
" Yes, I do."
" Well, I belong to what you call the rebel army."
" I am aware of that, but I see no reason why we should be enemies. I don't know as you ever injured me, or that I ever injured you, and why should we have any ill will toward each other?"
" What are you fighting us for then?"
" We are not fighting you. We are fighting what you call the Southern Confederacy, only wishing to injure you, as we are obliged to in order to destroy that; so we can have but one government, and that the good old one of our fathers, under which we can all live in peace and harmony, as heretofore, and the old flag of Bunker Hill and Yorktown once more wave over a united and happy nation."
"Well, I never looked at it in just that light before, but I reckon you are right about us fighters, if not on what we are fighting for."
" Yes, and I am right about that, too, and the right must and will prevail, as time will prove ; and I trust you may yet live to enjoy the privileges and bless- ings of the very government that you and your comrades are now trying to destroy. What may I call your name?"
" My name is Madison A. Brown ; I belong to the Twenty-fifth South Carolina regiment."
" By this time," relates the Sergeant, " we had arrived at the Half-way House where my friend was carried into a tent, and I have not seen or heard from him since ; but I have often thought of him, as doubtless he, if living, has of me."
DIDN'T CATCH IT.
Those who know anything of the momentum of a solid cannon shot, however slow its velocity, or have heard the old war story of the man who lost his foot by putting it out to stop one slowly bowling along upon the ground, will appreciate the following :
While driving the " Johnnies " back across and beyond Kingsland's Creek, and when the Twelfth, in line of battle, was slowly following up the skirmishers, a solid 20-pound cannon-ball came bounding and trundling along toward the centre of the line, as slow and apparently as harmless as a schoolboy's truck. Colonel
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
Barker, seeing it coming some distance ahead, and more of course for fun than need, for his men knew enough to avoid it, gave the command : " Open right and left, and let that ball through, so I can catch it."
Knowing that he would " catch it" if he tried, he wisely concluded not to try.
" LITTLE TOO CLOSE."
The day before the battle of Drury's Bluff, which was Sunday, Sergeants Piper, Dockham, and Paige, of Company B, were lying together on the ground, with the last named in the middle.
The enemy's sharpshooters had, as usual, taken their positions in trees and were making their rifle-balls tell for the southern cause whenever an opportunity offered itself. In a few minutes Sergeant Paige jumps up, exclaiming, "Oh ! oh!" rubs the back of his head and wants to know who has kicked him. A bullet had gone through his haversack, against which his head was resting and which was filled with " hard-tack," grazed the hind part of his head, and passing down through his shirt, vest, blouse, and rubber blanket, had ploughed up the ground for a foot or two between his legs. The ball was dug out of the ground and is still in possession of the receiver. After joining with his companions in a laugh at his being so amusingly " kicked" by a Johnnie half a mile or more away, he lay down again just in time to save himself from another bullet that cut his gun- sling just behind and above him. Thinking the calls a little too close, the trio made a change of base for a restful snooze in a more secure position.
ALMOST A PRISONER.
The following experience was written by the lamented Capt. John H. Prescott, who was, at the time referred to, an aide-de-camp on General Wistar's staff:
When our forces had commenced to fall back from Drury's Bluff, we passed through a strip of woods and formed a line of battle in an open field, to hold the enemy in check until our artillery could be placed on a rise of ground just in our rear. Alongside of the woods, there was a rail fence for a piece and then brush, etc. In front and across the road was a very thick growth, through which we had just retreated.
General Wistar and staff were in this open space at the rear, when he turned to me and requested that I go up and order each regimental commander to move back to the new position. The Twelfth was on the left, and I went to the right first, gave the order and then down the line to where I supposed the Twelfth was. But it was not there. I supposed it had moved on to the left to close up a gap or something. { had not placed the Twelfth and did not know exactly its position. I went on down to the left to where I came to an open place, but I could not see it there. I went to the rear a piece through the woods and under-
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brush, but I said : "The Old Twelfth isn't to the rear. I know. It hasn't retreated without orders. It has gone to the front, if anything, and it must be the other side of that road." So I went up to the front and across that road, going along a line where there were no large trees but a few twigs and brush, some breast high, and some over my head.
It was so thick, though, on each side that I could see nothing to the right or left. I crossed the road, went over the fence, and came up to a large tree. I said to myself : "I will stop by this tree till I look about awhile." But no sooner did I get beside this tree, which stood upon a little knoll, than I saw the rebels lying on the ground as thick as they could be. There was no longer any brush, and the rebs could see me as plain as day. Twenty men at intervals along the line at once arose to their feet and covered me with their guns (I was not more than two hundred feet away). They halloved all sorts of things to me : "llio; we've got you now, you Yankee son of a b-h!" "Come in here, you d-d Yankee !" " We want you, Yank ; come right along ! " etc., etc. I said to myself: "Ilere now is Libby prison and a lingering death therein, or a run and a chance of several bullet holes through me." I at once stepped close behind the tree, keeping my eye on the rifles to see if any advanced. My first impression was that they would rush for me, and I drew my revolver, thinking I would sell my life dearly there rather than go to Libby or Andersonville and starve to death. As I drew my revolver they hallooed again all sorts of things, and heaped upon me hellish epithets. One officer I saw, with sword in hand, motioning to me. All were hallooing. Still I kept cool, while my wits were put to the test. I cast my right eye to the rear to see if that offered any hope of escape. About twenty feet to my right and rear stood a very thick bunch of bushes, higher than my head, and within a few yards to the rear of it were other bushes and trees, thickening, as near as I could tell, toward the rear, but I could not tell how far. I said : "This is my only chance, and I must take it." No sooner had I thought it than I wheeled, gave a bound, and landed behind this bunch, and you never saw a whitehead scratch gravel for the rear faster.
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