USA > New Jersey > The history of the Ninth New Jersey Veteran Vols. A record of its service from Sept. 13th, 1861, to July 12th, 1865, with a complete official roster, and sketches of prominent members > Part 30
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A young woman, living at the foot of the mountain, mounted her "filly," and hastened away after news; and returning, reported that Breckenridge had defeated General Gillem at Blue Lick Springs-the latter being in full retreat upon Knoxville. Just at this moment a mountaincer, breathless with excitement, reached us, declaring that the guerrillas are " hot on our trail." We lost no time in seeking covert in a ravine between two towering mountains, where, we flattered ourselves there would be comparative safety. Captains Todd and Grant, with a mountaineer, went down to a hamlet to obtain rations and to
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procure for me a pair of shoes, or some covering for my feet. I did not again see thein within the Confederate lines. While they were absent one of the party, commiserating my extreme wretchedness, improvised a pair of moccasins from a pair of skins which he had found in a corn-crib near by, and my feet felt comfortable for the first time in more than a month. Besides the dangers which surrounded us, our condition was rendered more wretched and pitiable by the long fast which we had been compelled to observe-hard, dry ears of corn was the only food obtainable, and this we munched in bitterness of spirit. Seated upon a log, for sleep had been a stranger to me for weeks, I was meditating upon the mutability of terrestrial affairs, when our camp was suddenly thrown into a state of violent commotion. For a moment, my senses were bewildered, but whizzing bullets and demoniac yells, together with the heavy hoofs of many horses, speedily brought me to a realizing sense of my condition. Owing to the intense darkness, I saw nothing save the lurid flashes from the fire-arms of the guerrillas, who, having at last caught us napping, were now carrying on their hellish work, firing and slashing wildly as they rode in upon and among the helpless-sparing neither sex, age, nor condition. For the time being I must have ceased to remember my acute ailments, as I discovered myself running, sometimes falling upon the frost-covered ground-intent only on widening the distance between myself and the enemy, from whom if re- captured, I well knew I could expect no favors. For nearly six long and dreary weeks I had undergone great fatigue, en- dured terrible privation and exposure to regain liberty, and I felt that my long march of nearly one thousand miles at an inclement season of the year, with my life in constant jeopardy, deserved something better than the fate which I was satisfied these yelping and cruel-hearted bushwhackers would be only too happy to mete out in case they succeeded in retaking me. On, on, I went, my movements being, of course, greatly accelerated by the whizzing of bullets which sped in too close a proximity to be pleasant ; but by-and-by, when faint and almost exhausted, and apparently out of immediate danger, I sat down to extricate a piece of stick which had been forced
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AN AWFUL SITUATION.
into the fleshy part of my heel. Alone in that awful solitude, among great overtowering hills, in wretchedness and misery, without food, almost destitute of apparel and barefooted, my heart, fast throbbing in the exciting run for life, had now nearly ceased to pulsate. As I sat, transfixed in that wild region, contemplating my condition, the manifold dangers which sur- rounded me, a terrible fear took possession of my soul. I had no article of value about me-no money, no knife or other weapon, no blanket, no utensil in which to cook, nothing to cook, nothing to eat, neither did I know in which direction to turn, which course to pursue. What had been the fate of my companions I knew not, nor had I any means of ascertaining. Daylight came at last, bringing some relief to my anxious mind. I was on the brink of despair, when sounds of an approaching party were borne to my ever-listening ears. Secreting myself, I soon became convinced that they were friends, and when near enough I recognized Major Davis, Captain Lewis and a score of others. I cannot express the joy I felt as I bounded like a school-boy towards them, expecting, of course, to find the three firm comrades with whom I had set out on the fateful pilgrimage. Alas! Grant and Todd were missing-neither having been seen or heard from since they departed to search for needed food. I was affectionately greeted, having been given up for dead. We hastened away, keeping along under the shadows of the moun- tains, into which we could again retreat did such a step become necessary, but although we heard desultory firing in the direc- tion of the railroad each day, and occasionally saw affrightened farmers along Pigeon and French Broad rivers, "fleeing from the wrath to come," we managed to escape observation and make between twenty and thirty miles a day. In less than a week we were safe within the Union lines at Knoxville, whose citizens we found in a high state of excitement, consequent upon the approach of Breckenridge's half-starved army.
!
Shall I conclude my narrative by telling you with what ani- mation Lewis and myself rehearsed to Generals Gillem and Carter, and a listening company of brave officers, who so kindly welcomed us to that heroic town, the story of our suf-
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ferings and escape-how they cheered us by complimentary remarks upon our achievement and by ministering to our wants -how thoughts of an old-fashioned Thanksgiving with the dear ones at home that night made our dreams luminous as with the smiles of angels? No ; you can imagine all this, and if you have ever been in such perils as we had escaped, you will understand what I mean when I say that life seemed to us, in these first hours of deliverance, like a resurrection, in which we stood with crowns upon our heads, and shining pathways leading heavenward, stretching away in reaches of splendor before our weary feet. Rested at length from our fatigue, under orders from the provost-marshal-general to report to the adjutant-general at Washington, we parted from the friends whose tender nursing I shall never forget, and a few days after- ward received the hearty kisses of loved ones on our lips- loved ones from whom all through my dreary captivity I had never heard one word, and who long since had made up their minds never to see me again this side of that river which all must ford at the roll-call from above.
J. MADISON DRAKE, Captain Ninth New Jersey Veteran Volunteers.
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CORPORAL KEENAN'S STORY.
A SENTIMENTAL SOLDIER,
WHAT A PRIVATE SAW IN THE RANKS-RETROSPECT OF THE YOUNGEST MAN IN THE NINTH.
During the summer and autumn of the year 1863, I doubt if there were a boy in the North that didn't feel that his small arıns were needed in the war for the Union. I was reciting in history in a preparatory school at Niagara, when a telegram came to the principal, telling him of the death of a kinsman at Chancellorsville. The classes were dismissed for the day and there was a solemn league and covenant among the elder boys -ranging from twelve to sixteen-that we should emulate the heroes of our own text-books and take up arms for the patrie in danger. Parental and family discipline met these stirring resolves with effective dissuadents. Of the Spartan band I believe there were three of us, who evading friends and guard- ians, finally found ourselves in arms before the year was out. A boy's generous dreams are a man's noblest purpose, if based upon realities. Mine were. Though I was barely twelve when Sumter was fired upon, I knew every name of prominence in both armies. I could produce a map. more or less accurate, of every encounter of the two armies from Mill Spring to Pea Ridge. The supercedure of Mcclellan in 1862, for a time damped my ardor, and I sulked like a very small Achilles in my · tent, resolved to let Secretary Stanton carry on the burdens of the war alone ! But the disaster to Hooker's army-so soon after Burnside's hideous travesty at Fredericksburg, overcame my detestation of Stanton, and in the autumn of 1863 I closed my books and resolved to help him out ! My age was a bar to my enlistment where I was known, but with the spirit of adventure thrilling in me, I wrote to a school fellow in New
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York, and he assured me that if I could look eighteen we, he and I, could pass muster in an office he knew in Newark. So in the latter days of November -- while I was still in my four- teenth year, I turned a holiday visit to New York into an engagement with Uncle Sam to help him to conquer rebellion. I had in my dreams of Napoleonic glory always turned to the cavalry as the field for the pomp and circumstance of war in all its splendor, and went to Newark, really bent on joining the Third cavalry. Through the persuasion of the late Rev. Edward H. Camp, then in Parker & Keasby's law office, I finally cast my fortunes in with the "glorious " Ninth, as it was then justly known in the Jerseys. My New York comrade lost heart when the time came to sign-but both my pride and fervor supported me. It was well I had an inordinate share of both, for I can conceive no vicissitudes more disheartening than the ordeal of a recruit, sent with squads to the field. The delay in getting uniformed, the odious quarters in Newark, among a class of men, hardly congenial to a boy of fourteen, who had seen nothing of the rougher side of life, the dismal barracks at Trenton, where I was detained two months, I think, all these stripped my roseate dreams of their color and left nothing but the squalid and disheartening reality. Many a time, I fear, during those weeks of waiting, I would have gladly renounced my chances of glory, and returned to my books, if I could have cancelled my contract with Uncle Sam. I could readily have done it too- as the recruiting-officer knew well that I was not eighteen -- though he had set me down at that age. The barracks to which the recruits were assigned was on the shore of the Delaware-just out of Trenton. To this day I see those long miserable sheds, with tiers of cold hard "bunks " rising above each other like a vast bureau with the front off. I hear the "sky larking," the buffoonery, the almost pathetic merry-making of men depressed and yearning for the home many of them were never to see again.
Slowly, however, we were turned into warriors ; we had the light blue trousers, the hideous uniform coat, the short blouse and that masterpiece of ugliness, the leather peaked cap. I
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AT THE FRONT.
thought them beautiful then, at least I felt that at last I was a soldier, and, like Napoleon's recruits, I secretly dreamed that a marshal's baton might be in my slouchy knapsack ! I think no explorer, no traveler, ever set out with such joy for the lands held in his hope, as I embarked for Newport News one raw January day. There were not more than a dozen men for the Ninth ; one I remember-a Canadian-Alexander McCaus- land. He was a civil, decent lad, and I at once began to fire him with the glories that were to be ours. I never quite succeeded in making him see that there was much in war-for his part all he asked was a quiet billet where there were no bullets ! He laughed at my enthusiasm-shocking me by suggesting that as my friends knew Colonel Zabriskie that I should ask for a detail at headquarters, where I might escape the bullets ! Imagine a hungry man admitted to a banquet and then bidden to sit at one side to look on while the others ate! It was a humid, misty morning, neither summer nor winter weather, when the boat from Fortress Monroe landed us at the long broad wharf at Newport News. I had my eyes fastened on the desolate sandy tract all the way up the channel, and my eagerness to see the regiment was hardly checked long enough to cast a curious glance at the spars of the " Congress," then still visible where the "Merrimac" had sunk her in the spring of '62. The regiment was well housed. We could see the comfortable tents from the landing. I think I was a little disappointed that the companies were not drawn up in line to welcome me ! But I consoled myself by thinking that perhaps they didn't know just what an ambitious warrior had come among them ! I had letters to various people in the regiment, and before joining my company I had canvassed the question with great care. I don't know what shifted the balance to Company H, but I think it was the recommendation of Surgeon Woodhull. I never regretted the choice. Company H was in line between A and K; Lawrence was then captain-with Pullen and Hawk as lieutenants. Taylor was first sergeant. I was taken into the tent with Donnelly, Sutphen, and another whose name has escaped ine. As may be imagined, that the sort of person I have described myself to be, was no end of fun
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for these lively and jocose veterans-as well as all who heard our discussions in the neighboring streets. I was too young and too ardent to dissemble my glowing visions of the grandeur of the soldier's career, and I dare say I must have revealed a good deal of artless bumptiousness to keep the boys in mirth. I believe I was at first brevetted brigadier by the wags of Company A, whose tents were within easy hearing of the learned expositions I was never tired of making of the art of war. Jomini himself couldn't have been niore fertile than I in disposing of the Union armies. For months after I joined the Ninth, I remember the boys were always ready to engage me in disputes on the superiority of Mcclellan's methods to those of Grant. What did not strike me then, but has since, when I have mingled with the soldiery of France, Germany, Austria and Italy, is the remarkable insight the private soldiers of the Union army had into the current movements of each campaign. The days of hero worship had gone by. McClellan, while by no means forgotten or less adored than in the early days, was no longer the subject of acrimonious debate in these canvas congresses. Grant was rated about as he turned out, while Sherman very rapidly came to fill the place at first accorded McClellan, as the only Napoleonic master developed at that time by the war.
No site more charming for a military bivouac could be imagined than the camp of the Ninth on the Newport News table-land. Flanked on the south by the wide, misty waters of the James-beyond which, on clear days, we could see the rebel shores to the south and east almost to Norfolk, there was a per- petual panorama of nature's most varied pageantry. By day, the monitors, with their many colored fabrics, their nimble seamen, their portentous and mysterious power, were under our eyes. At night their bells, ringing out musically, gave re- assurance of guardianship from the waters. Then to the east the dim gray walls of Fortress Monroe and the hazy glimpse of the ocean. West and north we were encircled by thick, clus- tering, swamp-like groves-made solemn and awful by clumps of pine and the palm laurel which holds its dark, dead green all the year round. A New York cavalry regiment, the Third,
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AN INSPIRED PICTURE. .
I think it was, in which there were friends from my home, lay encamped just west of us.
The perfect joy of a fine day, during these first rapturous months of soldiering for me, was when the "Ninth " turned out of an afternoon to parade on the smooth esplanade, to the north of the symmetrical city of tents. What a picture it was to my ardent eyes ! The men, all veterans-sacred to my young mind, for the dangers they had undergone - trim, jaunty in march, statue-like in line, I could imagine myself viewing Massena's iron infantry at Wagram. And the young colonel, the gentle, modest, intrepid Zabriskie ! What a god of war I thought him, as he stood in the centre, to receive the stately and splendid group that marched up in salute. And Carrell, the gay, the dauntless, the irritable, the chivalrous young rider so soon to go down in the withering blast I was panting to be in ! How his clear, boyish voice rang out. With what an eagle glance he swept the pulseless line from right to left, every man feeling his armor punctured by that impervious flash. Then the exultation, when H, my company, were entrusted with the colors, in the hands of the dare-devil Donnelly (Jack). I wondered often if Lee wouldn't tremble it he had known that such a valorous body was lying in wait to pounce upon him ! They were splendid delusions, laughable enough-but I would give up all the realities of my life, rather than never to have known them ! Then the drill, the glorious battalion drill, with that superb, kingly Stewart, then lieutenant- colonel, swinging and crowding and launching the companies from point to point, in and out, above and about, athwart and across, betwixt and between, as though the groups of flesh and bone had been gigantic chessmen, or shuttle cocks, and his voice clear as a bell, resonant as the tenor note of a colossal organ. Why, to hear that voice in battle, as I afterward heard it, was to lift a coward to heroism, inspire courage to madness. I shall never be brought to believe that an able-bodied boy can't be made a good soldier-the best, in fact. It is imagination that makes the warrior, as it is imagination that makes man at his best in any calling. I invested all the repulsive duties of the soldier with romance. My gun was as dear to me as the
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charger to the knight. I fondled it, caressed it, guarded it, kept it, as a woman keeps her jewel box .. My share of the tent was as sacred to me as a bit of the holy carpet to the Mussulman. My meager duties-guard or detail-were as devoutly, scrupulously attended to as the functions of the acolytes at the altar. Nor were the men, even the veterans, much less conscientious, the glamour. to them had long gone, but they were soldiers and patriots to a man. Some of them shared my hearty detestation of Stanton, and regarded the conduct of the war as a criminal conspiracy among the regnant politicians-but there was not a man who shrank from laying down his life whenever the sacrifice would bring victory to our flag or glory to our regiment. And then the long, delightful hours between supper and "taps !" The games on the esplanade, the athletic sports, the leaps over the cooking poles, where the big boiling pots hung, the races, the kindly camardenie of these great boys, chaffing, tantalizing, guying, "rigging," coarse horse play there sometimes often was-but at bottom the men were tender, compassionate, rough, but helpful. Then when dark- ness fell, until taps, what a congress of debating societies ! My delight was to get some of the veterans going, and hear for the hundredth time the dash on Roanoke, the advance into that tortuous shamble of fire and thicket. Then the descent on Newbern, the impulsive onslaught, the rout of the rebels and the fruits of victory. Every man had his hero in the exploits ; Reno and Foster were the general favorites, and the event proved the unerring instinct of the soldier, for Reno, to the end, rose step by step through scientific methods in generalship. Heckman was the regiment's personal hero. Of him the legends were countless; his daring, his invention, his temper, his caprices, all were dwelt on fondly. Under hisinitiative the men would have dared all that became a general to ask. I can con- ceive no higher testimony to an officer. These tales of the regiment's past were carried on in tones that enabled inen in the tents, two or three rows distant, to take part, and many a time, at a thrilling juncture, the narrator was interrupted by a stentorian voice in Company K or A correcting some detail of
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AFRAID OF DEGRADATION.
battle or skirmish. But when taps -- lights out -- sounded, then these Homeric recitals fell to a whisper, and many a time I lay till midnight eagerly urging my tent mates to go on and on. I soon knew every day of the life of the regiment, from the formation and rendezvous at Camp Olden to the hour I joined it. There was but one thing in all my camp life that was repulsive-that was my turn at early morning "policing." It was a mere boy's dislike to manual labor-but I must own that my corporal's chevrons, when they came, were welcome mainly, because they relieved me of this trivial hardship. " Bobby " Phillips, who was the most energetic disciplinarian in the policing line, took a mild delight, I think, in seeing me shoveling, sweeping and "tidying up " the street. He examined my white, soft hands daily with affected solicitude, remarking dryly as the ridges began to appear on the palins, "Oh, you'll do in time, my son, but if you don't hurry and get a hand big enough to hold your gun, I'll have to ask Captain Lawrence to put you in the drum corps." Now the drum corps was my horror. It was against such a fate that I kept my mouth closed when the recruiting officer entered my age on enlisting. I used to walk along the river side, when no one was by and lift rocks for hours to broaden and harden my hands, such was my terror of being degraded from the dignity of a warrior to the non-combatant post of a musician. All this made great sport for the men of the company, who soon penetrated my ingenuous aspirations. To add to the comic role, I had brought my Latin and Greek books, and in hours of leisure I learned my lessons, and recited them to the dominie, Chaplain Carrell. There were chapel exercises every Sunday and I believe I took a perfunctory part in them, in return for the chaplain's tutorship. This gave me the name of the dominie. The men attended chapel in great numbers, but I don't think war and religion very compatible -- so far as I could see there wasn't a man in the regiment that didn't detect the humorous contradiction between the gentle teachings of Christ and the immediate demands of soldiership. Evidently my ardor told in making me a- trustworthy soldier. Within six weeks from the day I joined I was gratified by being permitted to go on
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guard-something, Bobby Phillips told me, had never been known before. I think that it was partly because of my eagerness and partly through his good favor. As a general rule, the recruit doesn't yearn to go on guard-I did. I wanted to be a soldier, and I never felt that I was one until the great day when I marched out of the company street, proud as Cæsar at his consular triumph. Captain Appleget was officer of the day. He knew I was a raw man and crossed my line repeatedly to try me. He caught me once, but he didn't turn outward to the beat. That was the only time in all my service that I missed taking a "pass of merit" for duty well done. I have them all now and I wouldn't part with them for the same amount of paper, stamped into treasury notes. The green shading in the Ninth's uniform gave the regiment an individ- uality in appearance that I never saw in others. I was told by the old members that this green background for shoulder straps, epaulets and chevrons distinguished the regiment through the fact that it had been originally designed for a sharp shooting battalion. Be the cause what it may, the Ninth in parade uniform was a very handsome body. I saw all the armies of the Union, and I never saw a battalion that surpassed ours in form or color. The days passed like a dream. Newport News in winter was as mild as our home climate in April or May, the morning dull until the arrival of the journals. I remember our indignation because we could get nothing but the wretched Inquirer of Philadelphia, a paper that has always represented to me the very lowest status of American journalism. Its news was never accurate ; its proof-reading was slovenly, but in some way it had got a monopoly in our department, and we rarely saw anything else. We never accepted anything we read in it as true until we verified its statements in other journals sent us through through the mails, which were of course much longer coming. Amusements were few -- most of the men when off duty passed hours at "cribbage," "euchre" "and "seven- up." Poker, I think, was never played, but I am not certain of this, for I did not know one game from another. Drinking at that time I never saw anything of. I often heard of mnen getting liquor, but I never saw a sign of it. The food was
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A BRIEF PARTING.
excellent and abundant ; coffee we had of the best; fresh meat and fresh bread, which though badly kneaded and baked worse, was still palatable and even digestible to men so much in the open air and in pretty regular exercise. The bean soup became fairly relishable after a few days, and I may say that I never had an ill day during my term of service, except when I was wounded. The life of the camp became delightful to me. I never found it dull or wearisome. Never found the monotonous duties tiresome. Everything that brought me near the heroic ordeal, battle, moved my wonder and sustained my ardor. The regiment was sadly worn down when I reached it, and shortly after my drilling began all the companies went home on furlough, that is, all whose time having expired, had re-enlisted. There were, I think, about one hundred men in the detachment left behind. With these, of course, the recruits remained. It was a sad parting when the veterans drew up on the wharf to debark for New Jersey. Those going home were very gay, those left behind were cast down, by the severing of ties that bind men. as no other relationship can. They had served together during three years, they had buffeted the fatal surf at Hatteras, they had stormed the recesses of Roanoke, they had charged the lines of Newbern, they had marched to Kinston, Goldsboro and Tarboro, they had established the links that strengthen all that is generous, ennobling and brotherly in men. They might never again, under the red shield of war, meet or greet each other. Many reasons, all good, prompted the handful that declined to enlist. They were the flower of the regiment, in all that goes to make fine soldiery, and I never heard a word in disparagement of their action. A few days after, I don't know but simultaneously with the departure of the regiment for the north, the little band, with the recruits, were sent across to Portsmouth, and thence to " Camp Julian," near Gettys Station, to piquet the interior line of forts and works defending the Blackwater. We were still in Butler's command, occupying a well laid out camp that had been arranged by one of Peck's brigades. Here we tented in the most haphazard disorder- two men under a canvas. We built the most elaborate huts-
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