USA > Pennsylvania > Dauphin County > History of the 127th regiment, Pennsylvania volunteers > Part 18
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nock, looking with apparent amazement at the escape of the invaders. The hasty exit prevented the fulfillment of the engagement ; saved his capture, and the Lieutenant- Colonel never having visited the city of Fredericksburg afterwards, greatly to his regret, was unable to pay his respects to the young ladies, who showed him such marked evidences of appreciated gratitude.
OBEDIENCE TO ORDERS.
We guarded Chain Bridge, which was considered an important post, as travel west and south had to pass over it into Virginia. On one occasion General Abercrombie, in command of our division, accompanied by several gen- tlemen, wanted to cross Chain Bridge to Washington, without a pass. The orders were imperative that no one should be allowed to pass over the bridge unless they had a pass from the proper officer. The General said, "Don't you know your General?" The sergeant said, "We don't know any one, General or no General, unless he has a pass." "Is it possible that I must go back and get a pass from my adjutant?" He did go back about a mile, and when he returned with his adjutant's pass he was allowed to cross the bridge. None of the party wore uniforms. This evidence of faithful obedience to orders brought the Regiment up to standard reputation. Full confidence was placed in us. We found out afterwards that troops which had a good record were always selected for dangerous and important work. They, and only regiments with good records are selected to open the battle; and cover the re- treat ; and covering a retreat is of the greatest importance and sometimes more dangerous even than opening the fight.
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127TH REGIMENT, P. V. WHAT IS CAMP LIFE?
BY MAJOR J. ROHRER.
It is generally supposed by those who never had any practical experience in a regimental camp, in active ser- vice, that the soldier has about nothing to do but lie about in his tent and kill time. It is well to disabuse the minds of those who have had no active camp experience. An explanation will show what a soldier must do. A sol- dier's life is a busy one, often busy day and night, without interruption.
First, at early dawn, in camp, the reveille is sounded by the drum major and the fife major. This is to awaken the regiment, and is the call for duty. At the termination of the reveille, the men fall in company line, and the or- derly sergeant of each company calls the roll and reports to the adjutant of the regiment, the number answering the roll call; absentees marked, and also those on detail duty, such as picket or fatigue duty, sick in quarters, etc. From these reports the adjutant makes out a roster of the regiment, showing the number of men on active duty, the number sick in camp or hospital, and the number on picket or fatigue duty. The adjutant makes up his report from the company reports, which is sent to headquarters.
After breakfast, the next in order is guard mount. Every regiment has a guard posted outside of camp, who are relieved every two hours. The officer of the day is de- tailed the night previous, and in rank is a captain or lieu- tenant commanding a company. He has charge of the camp until relieved next morning. The adjutant selects a certain number of men from each company, for guard mount, who appear at the call of the drum and fife. They
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stand up in line, are inspected, their guns examined, and regular guard mount follows. The adjutant then turns the guard over to the officer of the day, and they are marched to their posts, relieving those on duty. The re- lieved fall in the rear of line. The guards are on continu- ous duty until relieved next morning.
Next in order is picket and fatigue duty. Notice re- ceived by the Colonel the day previous : "One hundred and twenty men for picket or fatigue duty at 8 A. M. to- morrow ;" or it may be two companies, or more; some- times even a regiment, with all of the officers. The adju- tant is notified, the colonel handing the notice to him, which is recorded in a book kept for that purpose. The adjutant then serves notice on each captain to detail, say, fourteen men from each company, for picket or fatigue duty, 8 A. M. tomorrow. The orderly sergeant se- lects the detail in order of his muster roll. At the call of the drum and fife major, the pickets form into line and are inspected by the adjutant ; and passing inspection, they are marched off by the captain and lieutenants-for every detail must have some commissioned officers to take the command-two sergeants, four or more corporals, similar to an organized company. At 8 A. M. the detail re- ports at the place designated, and are formed into line, with about six hundred from other regiments. A regular guard mount then takes place. The general officer of pickets, and commandant of the line, lead the men to their posts. The General officer is in chief command, and goes over the line twice in day time, and once after mid-night. The commandant goes over the line every two hours, day and night. This keeps the line in good order. Pickets change every two hours. All pickets are given the pass- word, or countersign, and no one can pass through the
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line without the countersign. The General officer, and commandant are halted just the same as any other man. When the word "Halt!" is given, the command must be obeyed at once ; for the picket has a right to shoot. Then you hear the words, "Who comes there?" The answer by the officer is, "Grand Rounds." The picket replies, "Ad- vance, Grand Rounds, and give the countersign." The of- ficer, (mounted), leans forward and gives the word over the point of the bayonet. The word found correct, the officer goes on to the next post ; and so witn the whole line. Three men form a post, thirty to fifty yards apart, ac- cording to the topography of the country. It is risky to lean over the point of a bayonet, with the loaded gun in the hands of a careless soldier, for some of unem cock their guns at the approach of any one. After the pickets and fatigue detail have gone, and the camp is properly guard- ed, the officer of the day calls on the adjutant for men for police duty. A certain number are detailed, say five or ten from each company, whose duty it is to police the company streets and camp, remove all garbage, look after the sinks, and cleanse the grounds and surroundings. If wood is needed, another detail is made to go to the woods with the wagons and cut and haul it in ; each company be- ing supplied with axes and hatchets. If roads need fixing, or corduroy roads are to be built, or repaired, men are de- tailed for that purpose. Details are made to dig rifle pits, build fortifications, fell trees, make roads, cut wood, etc. All this is done by the soldier, and it is done without a murmur, although some of the men never had a shovel or axe in their hands at home. Those who do guard duty during the day and night are exempt from picket duty, or any manual labor or other duty during the following day, except company or regimental drill and dress parade.
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Every man must clean his gun and keep it clean, both in- side and outside, ready for inspection.
Company drill at IO A. M. Dinner 12 to I o'clock. Battalion drill at 2 P. M. Dress parade at
5 P. M. Supper at 6 o'clock. Taps at 8 P. M. Brig- ade drill once a week, and inspection and reviews when the weather is fair-the last two, often, even the day be- fore going into action. Previous to the opening of a campaign, orders come from headquarters, "Are your men supplied with knapsacks? Draw by requisition." Next day another inquiry comes, "Do your men need clothing? If so, draw at once." Next, "Draw shoes if in want." The last was, "Are your men in want of shoe strings? Draw at once." This shows how carefully every detail is watched, so that the army can march at a moment's notice. The next order : "Three days' cooked rations in haversack, and five days' in knapsack, with sixty rounds of cartridges." The last order, "Move at 6 A. M. tomorrow."
Pontoon boats, pontoon bridges, and pontoon wagons are an absolute necessity to a marching army. A pontoon boat is about eighteen or twenty feet long, five feet six inches wide, with sides two feet high ; made like a scow, or flat boat. These boats are carried on a wagon for that purpose, with six horses or mules hitched to each wagon. To make a bridge, the boats are put into the river, an- chored against the current of the stream, at regular dis- tance apart. Long stringers of wood are laid from one boat to another, and lashed fast, so as not to move, probably five or six making the width of the bridge. When the stringers are laid, the men carry the planks or boards, whichever are used, and place them across the stringers. If boards are used, two layers are placed. As fast as the
THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS R L
COMRADE GEORGE D. RISE. Co. "E. " 127th Regiment, P. V. Regimental Historian.
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engineers put down and anchor the boats, the stringers are placed, and the boards are put down, and when the last boat is fastened to the opposite shore and stringers and plank, and securely cabled, the bridge is done and ready for use.
MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE AS A WOUNDED SOLDIER.
BY PRIVATE GEORGE D. RISE, COMPANY E, 127TH REGIMENT, PENNSYLVANIA VOLUNTEERS.
As a proud member of our beloved company, my daily life was uneventful, except for the various duties of camp life, drill, guard duty, picket duty, parades, etc., until the memorable battle of Fredericksburg. December 1Ith, at day-break, our regiment reached the banks of the Rappa- hannock River, at the Lacy House, directly opposite the upper end of the town of Fredericksburg, having made most of the march from the camp at Falmouth on the double-quick. We had expected to be ordered into imme- diate action, but on our arrival, the engineers who were building the pontoon bridge had been interrupted, when only half way across with their work, by fierce and effec- tive rifle firing from sharpshooters concealed in the houses on the opposite side, and in rifle pits along the river bank. Finding it useless to continue sending men down to the bridge to their certain death, General Burnside, who was on his horse close by us, ordered a bombardment of the town and the heights beyond. For over eight hours, until nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, there was witnessed one of the most magnificent spectacles of modern times- a bombardment by 140 cannon, with occasional replies by
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the enemy. We, as spectators and supporters of some of the batteries, would sometimes crowd up pretty close to the bank of the river, but shots from the sharpshooters opposite would cause us to "skedaddle" to safer quarters without orders. These efforts also proved useless in ac- complishing anything towards the completion of the bridge, and about 3 o'clock P. M. General Burnside called for volunteers to cross in boats, as a "forlorn hope," and drive the sharpshooters from the immediate vicinity. Nearly our entire brigade volunteered ; of whom but about 400 men were selected from the 7th Michigan, 19th and 20th Massachusetts, including about a score of the 127th Regiment. In a few minutes they slid the boats down into the water, jumped in, rowed across, and in ten minutes most desperate fighting with Barksdale's sharp- shooters, drove the enemy away from the banks of the river, and brought back over fifty prisoners-hardly two of whom were dressed alike-ragged and desperate look- ing. In less than an hour after their return, our ponton- iers had the bridge completed, and our brigade had the honor of being the first to cross. The old regiments of the brigade went right up into the town, and with desperate fighting drove the enemy out of the houses, assisted by our regiment, which was afterwards placed in reserve on the bank of the river, protected by the rising ground from the effects of the firing. While this fighting was going on, several of the Michigan soldiers came running down the street, calling, "For God's sake, Colonel Hall, send us up some more men ; they have killed all our men." Some of the 127th Regiment dashed up into the fight without orders. I had started to go along with Simeon Guilford, when we saw a wild-eyed soldier come running down the
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hill directly towards us, head thrown back, and stagger- ing, fell right at our feet. We picked him up at once, but he was stone dead, and our surgeon, who arrived at the moment, insisted that the man had been dead while he was still running. He had been shot in the arm, and was run- ning down the hill towards us for assistance, when an- other shot struck him in the spinal column, and the doctor said that the muscular action carried him to us. At II o'clock that night we marched up into the town, and were put on guard duty, to stop the looting which was already going on. We had half of the city, and the rebels had the other half. I was on guard, at the corner of two streets, with some members of Company "H," at the corner next beyond me. About midnight I saw a body of men come from the opposite direction towards those of Company "H," and then all went back together. I did not know, however, until we were relieved, that the Com- pany "H" men had been captured by the rebels from the next street.
All day Friday we were in line of battle on Caroline street, together with four other lines of battle, the entire width of the street being occupied with troops, ours being on the southern pavement. The older troops, knowing that it was our first experience under fire, commenced chaffing us, saying that we would dodge when the shells commenced to fly. Well, during the morning, and all day, the rebel shells did fly-not at us-but over us, to- wards the river, where our troops were still crossing. Sometimes the shell would seem to come in a direct line towards us, and then ensued the amusing spectacle of see- ing every man along the entire lines of battle look up into the air, and, as the shell seemed to draw nearer and nearer, he would draw back, duck his head, and as the shell pass-
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ed on, he would again straighten up, and with an air of relief, look after the faint line which the missile seemed to leave in the air. There was no more chaffing, as all, old and new men, were in the same boat. Night came without any further developments. On Saturday morn- ing, December 13th, about nine o'clock, we heard rifle fir- ing, and knew that the great battle was on. We again formed in line of battle on Caroline street, and about noon were ordered into action. We marched down Caroline street, to Hanover street, and there we all threw our blankets, overcoats and knapsacks in a heap on the pave- ment, then marched out Hanover street. As we went out this street, the shot and shell came thick and fast, but there was no more dodging. Every man seemed to be anxious to get up to the front. After going two blocks, we were halted to allow some troops to cross a street di- agonal to Hanover. While we halted, Captain Greena- walt leaned against a low fence between two houses at the right of the street, and a shell came screaming, and struck between the two houses, shattering both walls. Captain Greenawalt did not even change his position, but calmly turned his head to look at the result. We then continued our march out the Telegraph Road, crossed the canal or mill ditch as well as we could, climbed a board fence, and formed in line on the second ridge of Marie's Hill. The line was formed as for dress parade, and Colonel Jen- nings was just getting ready to give order to charge, when I seemed to feel a shell coming right towards me. I "ducked" and it passed over my head, the wind of it nearly blowing off my cap. This shell burst just back of me, and an iron canister shot from it struck me in the center of the back of the fleshy part of the right thigh. It was Shrapnell shell, usually loaded with about seventy
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such balls. I did not, for a moment, know that I had been hit, although the ball had gone nearly through the leg to the front, and through the muscles. An order came, im- mediately, to march, and as I tried to step forward with the rest of the men, my leg seemed paralyzed and fastened to the ground. The blood rushed down my leg in a stream and filled my shoe. I saw the boys about to leave me. I dropped my rifle, clasped my hands to my thigh to stop the blood, and yelled, "I am hit." Several of the men ran back to me, but Samuel S. Shirk, of our company reached me first, and started to take me off the field. I did not fall and had no pain, but was already weak from the great loss of blood. Comrade Shirk took my arm, and we slowly made our way back, getting over the ditch with some diffi- culty. After we had got back to the Telegraph Road, and over the little bridge, we heard cheering, and stopped to look back. It was our splendid regiment going up the hill towards the stone wall. As we stood there, a small piece of shell passed through my coat, and we thought it time to go. I had been unable to pick up and take along my rifle, and as we went back into the city, I became very thirsty, I presume from the loss of blood, and begged water front soldiers with canteens every few minutes. Arriving in Caroline street, I was taken into a two-story brick house, evidently a school house, which had been selected as a hos- pital for our wounded. We found gathered there the members of the band of our regiment, who took my en- trance as the signal, and they all started for the field to help bring back the wounded. Dr. Horner, our assistant surgeon, took me in charge, and wanted me to wait for Dr. Reily, the surgeon, to extract the ball. I insisted on immediate action, and Dr. Horner said he would do it if I would assume the responsibility. I said, "Go ahead,"
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stripped and laid down on the floor, a dozen standing around. The doctor made a cut an inch deep and two inches long on the front of the thigh, and tried to reach the ball, but without success. He then made a deeper cut, and caught the ball with the forceps, but it slipped off for him, until the third trial. It proved to be an iron ball, which I still have in my possession. During the operation the men about me winced and groaned, but I did not have a particle of pain, as the flesh seemed to have been dead- ened by the shock of the impact. No anæsthetic was used. After the wound was dressed, I was put on the floor in the front room, Comrade Shirk again went to the assistance of others, and to join the regiment. In the evening the regi- ment returned to its position in Caroline street : just in front of this building, they baked some flap-jacks over the gutter, gave me some, and they tasted very good. I laid there without any further attention until Monday after- noon, when my cousin, Jacob L. Rise, also a member of Company "E," came in and said we had to be moved across the river, as the rebels were going to shell the city. He and Jacob Reinoehl, of Company "K," lifted me to my feet, and with my arms around their necks, we made our way down to the river, across the pontoon bridge, and up the bank. As we were crossing, the rebels commenced shell- ing us at a very lively rate, although the hospital flag was up. The enemy afterwards made the excuse that they were shelling some of our cavalry north of the river bank. In this way we made our way for nearly two miles, Com- rades Jacob Rise and Reinoehl showing great considera- tion in staying with me. I was laid down in a woods, and a shelter tent put up for me and for John K. Seltzer, who was wounded in the hand, and the two comrades went back to help others across the river. From that time I
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was unable to get up again, and during the night a ter- rible storm arose, blowing away our shelter tent, and I was nearly drowned in the water of the storm, until Com- rade Seltzer pulled me to a little higher ground. The next morning I was picked up by strangers, put on a stretcher, and carried into a hospital tent, and my wet clothes left to dry on me.
On Wednesday afternoon I was carried on a stretcher from the hospital tent to Falmouth Station-only a plat- form without any buildings. While I was carried down, we passed a hospital tent where amputations were going on, and a pile of arms and legs was outside of it about four feet high, and even as I was carried past, a leg was thrown out on the pile which did not seem to be so badly shattered as to necessitate amputation. It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon when I was laid on the platform, bitterly cold, December 16th, and a very cold wind blowing. As I was brought there a freight train was just ready to leave, and all the wounded who could help themselves got on board, while a few of us helpless ones were left lying there in that bitter cold for five long hours, until seven o'clock, before the next freight train came. By that time I was frozen blue, unable to speak or move anything except my eyes. Fortunately the conductor happened to be on the car which stopped closest to me, and noticed my condition. That car was loaded with hay, and he had it hurriedly un- loaded, with the help of wounded men, leaving a few inches of hay in the bottom of the car, they had me care- fully carried in and ordered some of the men to lie close up to me and "thaw me out." We started at eleven o'clock for Acquia Creek, reaching there after midnight. Two men pulled me to the door of the car, made a seat of their hands, and carried me to the ferry boat, reaching Wash-
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ington early next morning, and placed me in an ambu- lance. Another wounded soldier in the same ambulance happened to be Jerome Strohm, also a Lebanon boy, wounded in the foot. We were taken to Trinity church, in Georgetown, D. C., which had been turned into a hos- pital, by building a floor over the seats, and each aisle of ten cots was divided into two wards. I was placed in the middle bed of the worst ward of cases. I saw the others all die, one having cut his knee with an axe, and contracted gangrene, extending through his whole leg. He died Christmas morning. The next died that night, the second bed left of me. He had been shot in the middle of the back by a piece of shell, and as he lay with his back to- wards me, I saw his life-blood stream out in great jets. The man on the right of me had his foot taken off, gan- grene developed, and he died next morning. The second on the right had his foot amputated, gangrene showed slightly, amputation again at the knee, slight signs of gangrene again in the stump, a third amputation at the thigh, and death on the operating table. I was then alone in my ward, except that Bob Strohm and other wounded men would come and help to spend the time pleasantly. I had a good nurse, a Miss Mitchell, who read to me and furnished me many delicacies. I was getting along nicely until December 27th, when the nurse lost my sponge, went for a new one, which happened to be a washed one. That day I got gangrene, the wound sloughed open the arteries, and that night I had two severe bleeding spells, the sec- ond of which had to be stopped by putting a roll of band- age over the artery, then a strap and buckle tight around the leg, and a screw above the roll, fastening it down to the artery. The next day gangrene developed, and by the 28th it had greatly extended, my right side, from the knee
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to the ribs being entirely black. The surgeon then de- cided on amputation, but I argued with them that I was al- ready so weak from loss of blood that I could not stand an operation ; that the gangrene being way up to my ribs, an amputation at the hip would be sure death. I was con- vinced that they wanted to dissect me, as otherwise I was healthy. I had written to my mother, and expected her soon. Bob Strohm and Paul Knox came up to see what was the matter, and after I explained to them, and showed them my condition, Paul Knox, a New York soldier, brought two revolvers, and threatened to shoot any one who would touch me before my mother came. The nurses were taken away from me, and these two brave fellows took care of me until my mother came, two days after. By that time the gangrene was reduced, and was confined only to the inside of the thigh, a piece of flesh sloughing out an inch deep, and the size of a whole hand, leaving the muscles and nerves exposed. This commenced healing again in a few days. When I was near death, I had asked Strohm not to allow the negro attendants to wait for me, to die, at the foot of my bed, to carry me out to the dead- house, as they did for the others.
In the beginning of January this hospital was closed, and we were removed to Columbia College Hospital, where the doctors took half of our rations and sold them, the nurses paid us no attention, and my mother went out to buy food for me and some others. On the 15th of Jan- uary, 1863, I was strapped down on a board, and after a number of trials and tribulations, finally got to Harris- burg-my bed across the tops of the car seats. There were no passenger cars then on Sundays, but Mr. Artemus Wil- helm, who met us in Washington, had a passenger car at- tached to the freight train, and arrived in Lebanon just as
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