Thirty Tears After 
 
 AN 
 
 RTIST’S 
 
 OF THE 
 
 TORY 
 
 GREAT WAR 
 
 TOLD, AND ILLUSTRATED WITH NEARLY 3 OO RELIEF-ETCHINGS AFTER SKETCHES 
 IN THE FIELD, AND 20 HALF-TONE EQUESTRIAN PORTRAITS 
 FROM ORIGINAL OIL PAINTINGS 
 
 By EDWIN FORBES 
 
 AUTHOR “LIFE STUDIES OF THE GREAT ARMY;” MEMBER FRENCH 
 ETCHING CLUB ; HON. MEMBER LONDON ETCHING CLUB ; 
 CENTENNIAL MEDAL — HIGHEST ART AWARD 
 
 New York : 
 
 FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT 
 
Copyright, in 1890, 
 By Edwin Forbes. 
 
 Entered at Stationers’ Hall, 
 London, England. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
An Artist’s Story of the Great War. 
 
 I. 
 
 AWAITING THE ATTACK. 
 
 A TRIP ALONG THE LINES DURING A BATTLE. 
 
 u 
 
 ILL you venture down to the front this morning ?” asked my com- 
 pauion, who was a special newspaper correspondent. “ Except a 
 scattering skirmish fire, an occasional boom of cannon and crash 
 T .^of shell in the woods, matters seem quiet enough.” Fighting 
 had been in progress for two days, but now there was a lull. 
 
 So off we started, both intent on seeing life along the 
 lines. As we rode toward the front we passed through fields 
 of wheat and rye that had once waved in peace, but were now 
 trampled and destroyed by the army’s march. Moving further 
 
 on, meeting several ambulances going to the rear and a number of wounded men limping 
 toward the hospital, we soon approached the fortified lines and knew that danger was near. 
 
 Sounds of skirmishing grew louder, and stray bullets whizzed across the field and raised clouds 
 
 of dust where they struck the ground. 
 
 Leaving our horses in care of some infantry posted in reserve in a piece of woods, we 
 advanced slowly toward the line of breastworks in the extreme front. We took all possible 
 
 cover by creeping though woods and behind fences until we reached the line of redoubts and 
 
 breastworks facing the enemy’s position. 
 
 A non-combatant is strangely impressed at the quiet, nonchalant air of the men who 
 hold important position on the line. If it were not for the sharp crack of skirmish fire in 
 front one could almost imagine himself enjoying the delights of a summer camp, although 
 the Napoleon and Parrot guns pointing through embrasures at intervals along the log-breast¬ 
 works had an air of significance, and the smoke-begrimed muzzles and mud-covered wheels 
 and carriages showed the severe service they had rendered. 
 
 We found many of the men asleep along the line ; some were playing cards, and others 
 attending to camp duties, such as washing clothes, etc. All seemed free from any care about 
 what might occur; that was somebody else’s business. 
 
 A sudden rattle of musketry in the woods in front caused a momentary stir and sug¬ 
 gested an advance at any moment by the enemy, who was in strong force. We moved cau¬ 
 tiously along the line in search of friends (infantry officers) whose brigade held the extreme 
 front, and found them ensconced in a bit of woods on the further side of the hill, which 
 partly protected them from the enemy’s musketry fire; yet the skirmishers in front kept 
 the minie balls flying through the bushes and snapping sharply against the pine trees. 
 

 2 
 
 Awaiting the Attack. 
 
 Seeking the shelter of a low earth-work, my friend and I smoked a pipe and discussed events, 
 watching meanwhile the scenes along the line. 
 
 Within a short distance a party of artillerymen was building a bomb-proof roof in the 
 hill-side as a refuge from the scorching fire of the enemy’s guns, for the shell had cut 
 down many of their comrades during the two days’ conflict. Their method of procedure was 
 to dig an opening into the hill, brace the sides and end, and cover the roof with logs. In 
 many instances the shelter was covered with earth and sand, and thus rendered safer; one of 
 these places would give refuge to about half a dozen men. Our position was not as pleasant 
 or safety as secure as we might wish, for the enemy soon began to show signs of decided 
 animation. The rattle of musketry became brisk, although the lines in front and the artil¬ 
 lery opened fierce fire. My friend and I mutually agreed that our situation was becoming 
 rather more than interesting, and that however much we might desire newspaper information, 
 discretion was the better part of valor; so we made for the rear. In doing this we crossed 
 the line of fire and were compelled to dodge the missiles of the gentlemen in gray, who sat 
 in the tree-tops and leisurely popped away at any one sufficiently incautious to leave cover. 
 
 We were much relieved to reach our horses, which we soon mounted, and riding further 
 to the rear found a position on a hill-top where we could rest in safety and watch the prog¬ 
 ress of the battle, which was now in full activity. The din and turmoil at the front had 
 grown to be simply terrible. The continuous roll of musketry, the crash of guns and bursting 
 of shells made an awful confusion, while the great clouds of smoke and dust that came up 
 from the woods in front of the Union lines, and the fierce Indian yells of the Rebs as they 
 leaped forward into battle, gave to sight and hearing a sickening realization of what it all 
 meant. 
 
 After a time the firing of the 
 disappeared, and, except for the sad 
 many wounded came to the rear, 
 persuade one’s self that so 
 so recently taken place, 
 and wounded, and the 
 the relief that death 
 had been accomplished 
 quarters to learn, but 
 were too plain for 
 far too terrible for any 
 
 combatants slackened; the clouds of smoke gradually 
 story which could be gathered as the 
 it would be a difficult task to 
 desperate an encounter had 
 But hundreds lay dead 
 dying were praying for 
 only brings. What 
 we had to go to liead- 
 the details of its doing 
 misunderstanding and 
 forgetting. 
 
II. 
 
 ARTILLERY IN ACTION. 
 
 THE LIGHT BATTERY. 
 
 HE manoeuvres and engagements of a great army offer no sight more thrill¬ 
 ing than the dash and spirit of the field-artillery. In repose, also, the 
 grouping of the men and horses is in itself a picture. I was sitting one 
 morning by a battery of field-guns watching men take the horses to water 
 and others groom the glossy sides, and was just thinking that they were 
 rather thin from the hard work of the campaign when sudden orders came 
 for a drill. 
 
 I followed to the parade-ground and was much interested in the 
 picture and enjoyed greatly the excitement produced upon both men and 
 horses as they manoeuvred to the shrill notes of the bugle. An hour 
 of target practice followed, and I found great pleasure watching the bursting shells as they 
 struck the target on the far off hill-side, and threw up a column of dust in the rear. On 
 our return to camp the dinner-call had sounded and we did justice to the frugal meal of 
 “ hard-tack ” and coffee. 
 
 We had idled away the afternoon, and I was sitting on a fence smoking my pipe when 
 there came a distant rumbling. Observing the cumulus clouds above the distant mountain, I 
 concluded that a thunder shower threatened: but I soon heard a rumbling louder and more 
 regular than before; and now the captain came anxiously out of his tent, and the men gath¬ 
 ered in groups and looked toward the south. Suddenly a mounted orderly with dust-covered 
 clothing and foaming horse dashed down from headquarters, and, reining up before the cap¬ 
 tain, handed him an order. 
 
 Bustle and apparent confusion now prevailed. Word had been received that the enemy 
 was advancing in strong force, that the fords of the Rapidan had been passed and that our 
 cavalry had been pushed back; but the heavy cannonading told of the Union forces’ stout 
 resistance. Soon everything was in readiness, and the battery dashed along the road through 
 clouds of dust, followed by infantry. On, on we went, passing quiet farm-houses whose 
 inmates glanced furtively from the windows and whose cattle dashed about the barn-yard with 
 tails high in air. We soon began to meet wounded soldiers coming to the rear, some on horse¬ 
 back, others in ambulances. Further on we met a strange group coming down the hill. 
 Gray and ragged, with tattered blankets thrown over their shoulders and canteens clattering at 
 their sides, it took but a moment’s thought to conclude that they were Rebel prisoners. On close 
 approach we found them to be well-formed, muscular fellows, with an evident air of content¬ 
 ment as though they had accepted their capture as a fortunate occurrence rather than a hard¬ 
 ship. But we passed on towards the scene of action, and from the increasing sounds of the 
 field-guns and the bursting of many shell we knew that the conflict was raging. An officer 
 dashed suddenly up with an order from the commanding general, and in an instant the battery 
 was turned off the road, driven at great speed through a waving rye-field and posted on a 
 commanding hill. Thus near to the line of battle hundreds of wounded soldiers met our eye: 
 some, who were able, hurrying to the rear, others more seriously wounded limping slowly and 
 sighing with pain at every step. 
 
 Far off in the front, through dust and smoke I saw the Union line of infantry posted 
 
 5 
 
6 
 
 Artillery in Action. 
 
 along a length of fence, and on a long rolling ridge sweeping round to the right the mus¬ 
 ketry rolled'' heavily, and our line was evidently being sorely pressed. Reinforcements of 
 infantry were sent in at intervals, and the crash and clangor of opposing guns increased in 
 volume. Dense clouds of mingled dust and smoke arose and fierce yells filled the air as the 
 Rebs charged our line in front, and soon a mass of men in gray, with flags flying through 
 their lines, were seen advancing on our right-front. Then our battery came to the defense. 
 The guns were loaded with canister and sighted, and with a roar that shook the earth were 
 discharged. Again they were loaded, 14 double-shotted ” with canister, and the captain s voice 
 rang out, “ Fire by battery / — Fire /” Immediately after, the great mass of men in gray 
 seemed to melt from view, the flags sank, and the force that within so short a time had seemed 
 irresistible had been repulsed with terrible loss of life. 
 
 Our battery soon advanced to a more commanding position and opened fire on one of 
 the enemy’s batteries that had made sad havoc along our line. Shells were dropped among 
 their guns, and one fired a caisson which exploded with a tremendous crash, and so badly 
 crippled the enemy’s battery that it was compelled to retire from the fight. Shortly after, the 
 struggle ended and the enemy retired from our front in defeat. 
 
 Our officers and men now buried the dead, cared for the wounded, and repaired as far 
 as possible the damage done. Soon the moon came peacefully up through the smoke of 
 battle, fires were lit, coffee and “ hard-tack ” were taken from the haversacks, and by the light 
 of burning fence-rails the much needed food was taken. At tattoo, lights were put out; and 
 now no sound broke the stillness save the tread of the sentinel at the guus, or the stamp of 
 the artillery horses as they stood munching their corn or wheat. 
 
III. 
 
 A WEEK WITH THE CAVALRY. 
 
 OR picturesqueness of scene and romantic beauty the cavalry affords 
 greater variety than any other part of army life. The brilliant 
 array of gay trappings, the movements of the spirited horses, and 
 the many incidents in camp life and on the march, combine to 
 make a picture that time cannot efface from memory. 
 
 It was in the spring of 1862, while with the army of Gen. 
 McDowell at Fredericksburg, that news came from the Shenandoah 
 Valley of the defeat of Gen. Banks at Winchester by Stonewall 
 Jackson, who was just then rising into fame. Orders came from 
 Washington detailing Gen. Bayard’s cavalry and a large force of 
 infantry to the Valley with the idea of intercepting the enemy before they could escape south¬ 
 ward with plunder. The columns started, passing through Warrenton Station and Manassas, 
 the cavalrymen riding and walking alternately. The main body reached Manassas on the 
 second day and after a short rest pushed on through Thoroughfare Gap, a gorge in the Bull 
 Run Mountains through which the Manassas Gap Railroad passes on its way to the Shenan¬ 
 doah Valley. Debouching into the Loudon Valley, which lies between the Bull Run Moun¬ 
 tains and the Blue Ridge, the column took a meandering course over hills and through inter¬ 
 vales, being stared at in amazement by the inhabitants. The white people glared at us with 
 lowering brows, but the negroes greeted us with furtive smiles and grimaces. 
 
 We passed through Manassas Gap without adventure, but when we arrived at Front 
 Royal (in the Luray Valley, paralleling the Shenandoah), we found all the paraphernalia of 
 war : columns of infantry were marching along the main street and groups of officers were 
 seen scattered about the town. O11 a clear sunny morning we came in sight of the Shenan¬ 
 doah Valley, a fair land resting in peace and plenty, which one could not imagine was so 
 soon to be made desolate. Intelligence was received that Jackson’s army was still in full 
 retreat down the Valley and that his trains were passing through the town of Strasburg on 
 the Valley Pike, about nine miles distant. Gen Bayard was ordered to push forward with 
 the cavalry and make an attempt to capture the enemy’s wagon trains. 
 
 On reaching the ford of the Shenandoah River, where the railroad-bridge crossed it, 
 we forded the stream, climbed the hill on the opposite bank, and sighted the town of Stras¬ 
 burg. Viewing the ground with field-glasses, we discovered the Confederates in full march 
 toward the south. The trains of white-topped wagons were lumbering along the pikes; on 
 the hill-tops near the town long lines of infantry and cavalry were marching; and north of 
 the town, in the fort built by Gen. Banks, the enemy’s artillery was posted to guard the 
 passage. Scouts were sent towards us to gather the significance of our appearance, but no 
 further moves were made except the sending of a shell at one of our staff officers who ven¬ 
 tured too near their lines. 
 
 While examining the enemy’s position with my glass, I discovered in an open field 
 below the town, a body of men dressed in blue, drawn up in a line. Close inspection proved 
 them to be Union prisoners that had been captured from Gen. Banks’ column. The poor 
 fellows could see plainly our advance on the hill-top, and perhaps had hopes of rescue, but 
 it would have been indiscreet on the part of Gen. Bayard to attack without infantry, so they 
 
 9 
 
A Week with the Cavalry. 
 
 were doomed to further bondage. Quite remote in the distance beyond the retreating enemy, 
 rise of smoke and boom of cannon told us that Fremont had come from West Virginia, but 
 like ourselves, had arrived just too late, to join forces in cutting off the enemy’s retreat. His 
 advance and our advance were not yet in strength enough to act. A small force of Union 
 infantry came up late in the afternoon and fortified the railroad-bridge over the Shenandoah, 
 but it was not until the next morning, when more of our troops had come up, that we were 
 ordered to advance into the town where we met the advance of Fremont’s column. The enemy 
 meantime had escaped, passing between the divided Union forces. 
 
 On riding into the town of Strasburg, I saw on the porch of the village church a 
 group of Union soldiers, among them a Zouave whom I had known before as one of Banks’ 
 body guard. He greeted me with a hearty hand-shake, and related how a part of the very 
 prisoners I had seen through the field-glass had escaped. They had been placed for safe¬ 
 keeping during the night in the village church, and taking advantage of the darkness a 
 number had secreted themselves under the floor of the pulpit and escaped thus during the 
 confusion of the retreat, the Rebel guards being too hurried to count them. 
 
 The pursuit of the Confederates was energetically continued by Fremont. He placed 
 Bayard’s cavalry in the advance with his own mounted force, who pressed the enemy’s rear 
 guard at every opportunity. At Mt. Jackson we found that the bridge over the North Fork 
 of the Shenandoah had been burned by the enemy and were delayed until a pontoon could 
 be laid. This was soon accomplished, and we crossed the river and pushed on to Harrison¬ 
 burg, the cavalry skirmishing briskly on the way, and a field-battery occasionally brought into 
 play. I had the pleasure of accompanying the “Jessie Scouts” (a Missouri company named 
 after Gen. Fremont’s wife) during this part of the march, and no days during my army life 
 were as full of excitement and incident as those. We often were within short gun-shot of the 
 enemy’s rear-guard, but the scouts were utterly fearless of danger and seemed to live a 
 charmed life; harrassing and skirmishing with the enemy, but elusive as the wind. Beyond 
 the town of Harrisonburg the cavalry advance under Col. Percy Windham was ambuscaded 
 through gross carelessness, being forced into the woods without precaution. I escaped the 
 slaughter, however, by having stopped on the road-side to read a Richmond paper I had 
 secured in the town. The ambuscade was avenged in the afternoon, for a force of one 
 hundred and ten infantry Bucktails under Col. Kane attacked Jackson’s rear-guard under Gen. 
 Ashby, and after a most desperate fight defeated them and killed their daring officer, but 
 with a loss to the Bucktails of more than half their number. 
 
 Fremont finally caught the fleet-footed Jackson below Harrisonburg, fought an incon¬ 
 clusive battle with him at Cross Keys, and, owing to the disobedience of his orders to a brig¬ 
 adier of McDowell’s force to burn the Shenandoah bridge in front of Jackson, he was morti¬ 
 fied to have the Rebs slip off by night, cross the river, and burn the bridge behind, them. As 
 Jackson afterwards said to one of 
 campaign, “ If as good work had 
 Fremont did in the Shen- 
 
 Fremont’s officers captured in Pope’s 
 . been done in the Uuray Valley 
 
 would have got away for 
 Altogether, it was a 
 week that I passed with 
 my desire for adventure, 
 quarters during the re- 
 marcliing with the main 
 
 andoah, not so many of us 
 \ McClellan at Mechanicsville.” 
 very dashing and exciting 
 the cavalry. It satisfied 
 and I stayed near head- 
 mainder of the campaign, 
 column. 
 
* 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE PONTOON TRAIN. 
 
 THE ENGINEERS. 
 
 ALTHOUGH perhaps not the most attractive, the Kngineer Corps, 
 which in all preparatory work is the most scientific, is in its special 
 department one of the most necessary branches of the service of the 
 |l great army in the field; and, while not generally engaged in the 
 
 W'- intense action of combat, its danger is not slight and its work is 
 indispensable. The corps includes as its working force the sappers 
 and miners and pontoniers, or bridge-builders. In time of peace 
 their labors are of permanent importance, and in time of war they 
 select and lay out the camp, construct or plan for the destruction 
 w °rks of attack or defense, and have especial charge of the mul¬ 
 tifarious duties connected with the movements of forces. 
 
 When an advance was to be made towards the enemy’s line, the Engineer Corps often 
 worked well to the front and removed with dispatch all obstacles that would impede the 
 march. Bridges were rebuilt in a twinkling, and when a wide river was reached the work 
 of laying pontoons was commenced. This was often accomplished under severe fire, such as 
 no timid man would care to face. 
 
 One of the finest sights during the march of the great army was the pontoon train. 
 The huge scows resting on their heavy wagons went tossing over the rough roads, pulled by 
 six-mule teams which were urged on by frantic and sometimes profane drivers. Often a 
 wagon would get stalled in the mud where a stream crossed the line of march. It would then 
 be necessary to detach the teams from the rear pontoon wagons and with them make an effort 
 to drag the stalled pontoon to solid gound. Sometimes they had to attach a long rope to 
 the tongue of the wagon, upon which hundreds of infantrymen would seize, and help the mules 
 to drag it from the mire. 
 
 On nearing a stream, a road was chosen where the approach to cross would not be too 
 steep. The wagons were drawn near the bank and the pontoon boats were slid off from the 
 rear of them into the water. This work was often accomplished under the enemy’s fire from 
 an opposite bank of the river; but our men worked with a will, loading the boats and push- 
 ing them off with a dash and a cheer to clear the enemy away. 
 
 Then the real work of building a bridge would begin. Boats would be pushed out, 
 turned lengthwise with the current, and placed at regular intervals across the stream, anchored 
 at both ends. Then a set of men would quickly attach stringers from boat to boat and another 
 set would hurry forward with planks to place over them, thus forming a floor. In an incred¬ 
 ibly short time the bridge would be completed and the main body of the army would march 
 across amid great cheers. On reaching the bank the troops would deploy across the field and 
 make lively work for the enemy if their passage had been opposed. 
 
 A night march over a bridge is highly picturesque and full of incidents of interest. 
 Bright fires would blaze in the fields near the bridge-heads, and by the light the infantry and 
 artillery would march across apparently in great confusion; but the great mass of men 
 appearing so much out of order to a spectator were under complete control, and could be called 
 immediately into rigid form at an officer’s command. The ammunition-trains would make 
 
 13 
 
 A 7. 
 
The Pontoon Train. 
 
 i4 
 
 A sudden 
 
 great clatter in crossing, and mules would often get balky and delay progress 
 storm would produce great excitement; rain would pour m torrents and in a few hours a 
 placid stream would become a raging torrent. Extra anchors and guy ropes had to be put 
 out to prevent the bridge from being swept away, for the water would often rise above the 
 banks and sweep around the approaches. At times the engineers' efforts would avail nothing, 
 for the bridge would break loose at one end or a part be forced from the line elsewhere. 
 Then repairs had to be made; and no praise is too great for the brave men who went c leer- 
 fully to work and skillfully made good the damage. _ 
 
 When an army had crossed a pontoon-bridge and pressed on m pursuit of the enemy, 
 the bridge would be taken apart, the boats and the tackle loaded on to the wagons, and the 
 nontoon-train would in a few hours reach the head of the column again, in full readiness to 
 facilitate further advance of the army. - At times a railroad-bridge would be destroyed by the 
 enemy’s rear guard and the engineers would obtain a duplicate bridge from the rear and 
 quickly get it into place. These duplicate bridges speeded the army’s progress to such a 
 degree that the Rebs made many jokes about them, and 011 one occasion when a Southern 
 soldier was informed that a tunnel had been destroyed which would delay Sherman’s prog¬ 
 ress, he replied, “ O no, it won’t, for Sherman carries duplicate tunnels with him.” When 
 time did not admit of the use of a duplicate bridge, the engineers would hastily construct a 
 bridge of trestle-work out of logs cut from adjacent woods. 
 
 I always found a night march with the Engineer Corps quite an exciting experience. 
 The enemy’s rear guard seemed to find a malicious — though perhaps natural pleasure in 
 placing all manner of obstacles in the way of the Union advance. Trees were felled across 
 the roads and impassable labyrinths of interwoven boughs would have to be cleared by the 
 engineers’ axes. 
 
 The Engineer Corps was often called upon to lay out a line of breastworks to cover 
 the front of the army from a surprise. It is not easy to realize how severe this labor was 
 and how hard the soldiers worked at it. A ditch had first to be dug ill the front with pick 
 and spade; then the trees were felled by the axe, cut into lengths, and used as a backing 
 for the bank of earth thrown up from the ditch. Traverses were built to protect men and 
 guns from flanking fire, and the front covered by an abatis made of limbs of trees lying 
 lengthwise with sharpened ends placed toward the enemy. Another fence which is sometimes 
 placed in front of a fortified line is made by sharpening heavy logs and burying butts in the 
 ground with points forward. This can be removed only by the axe, and if attempted under 
 fire great loss of life is the result. 
 
 The Engineer Corps also has its share of destruction to make. Railroad-bridges are 
 burned and canal-locks blown up, or the channel of a river is obstructed to prevent the enemy’s 
 advance. These men were seldom idle; in winter camp or summer march there was always 
 something for their well-trained heads and skilled hands to do. Their loss of life was not 
 as great as in other branches of the service: but they were exposed to much hardship and 
 frequent peril; they did a very noble and indispensable duty, and no* army could avail much 
 without their assistance. 
 
 Throwing up Breastworks. 
 
\ 
 
 
 iv'-1 v. ■ 
 
 
 
 i. 3JKBS 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
V 
 
 THE EVER-HUNGRY SOLDIER, 
 
 KIND of traveling human locust dressed in faded blue, is a phrase that 
 might have been truthfully applied to the Union soldier; always 
 hungry, never satisfied, and willing to join a foraging party on the 
 shortest possible notice. At times he literally cleared parts of our 
 country of all bounties acceptable to man and beast; and yet depre¬ 
 dations were laughed at and forgiven, for the little obtained by the 
 brave “ boys in blue ” was but slight recompense for the great service 
 rendered to the land. 
 
 Many were the ludicrous scenes in those memorable campaigns. 
 At the back door of every cabin or farm-house on the line of march 
 could be seen groups of irrepressible Yankee soldiers with one question: “Got any pies for 
 sale, Aunty ? ” and when such things were obtainable, eager hands stretched forth to receive 
 them. Often hoe-cake and biscuits were offered instead of pies, and seemed just as desirable 
 to the hungry men. They always paid liberally for such supplies, and many poor people 
 made considerable sums of money in thus catering to their wants. 
 
 A party of the boys ” on scouring through the barn-yards would often chase up a 
 nimble porker, whose ridiculous efforts to escape would greatly amuse them ; but a final corrall 
 in some fence corner and a quick thrust of the bayonet would end the noise and life of the 
 unfortunate pig. Or perhaps a proud-stepping old rooster who had been a neighborhood 
 tyrant would come in their way. Age was no objection to such healthy appetites, and the 
 wringing of the old fellow’s neck was only a question of very limited time. A bee-hive was 
 a strong attraction to the soldier’s “ sweet-tooth,” but a capture of it sometimes resulted in 
 more bodily pain than had been counted on. 
 
 The remains of a pillaged vegetable garden suggested the visit of a cyclone; everything 
 would disappear in a twinkling, and the men always seemed to confiscate the onions with 
 especial relish. But first of all delights was the sudden sight of a cherry-tree in full bearing. 
 How with a bound and a cheer the soldiers would run to it! In scarcely more than a moment 
 of time all small limbs would be broken off and feasted upon in the ranks when on the 
 march. The sight of fresh meat always increased the already ravenous appetites. When, 
 
 fine steer from the 
 with his Springfield 
 in the forehead, great 
 ed. The skin would 
 shortest possible 
 fore the meat was 
 tributed, and the 
 would soon fill the 
 season were a luxu- 
 ble. Many a veteran 
 during the heat of 
 eat a handful of 
 a crowded under¬ 
 whistling by, would 
 
 alter pitching camp 
 division herd, and 
 rifle plant a bullet 
 expectation prevail- 
 be removed in the 
 time, and almost be- 
 cool it woufd be dis¬ 
 od or of beef-steak 
 air. Berries in their 
 ry always accepta- 
 soldier has halted 
 battle to snatch and 
 blackberries; or in 
 growth, with bullets 
 
 evening, the regimental butcher would select 
 
 17 
 
i8 
 
 The Ever-Hungry Soldier. 
 
 
 discover a patch of huckleberries, and at a taste of them memory would go back to the old 
 outing-parties and the juicy home-pies made from the culled fruit. 
 
 Luxuries for the mess often came from the river or sea. When an old net was 
 obtainable, streams would be drawn, and the suckers, bull-heads, and black bass secured would 
 make a welcome variety to the scanty fare. If near the shore, oysters and clams would be 
 sought for, and were gratefully devoured by the men who were subject to so much hardship. 
 Game could sometimes be procured, and an old shotgun if obtainable was a great prize. With 
 the colonel’s permission to fire near camp, the fields would soon be beaten and rabbits, quail 
 or perhaps a wild turkey would be added to the bill of fare. But many times the troops 
 were limited to plain scant rations, and anything eatable was accepted then. Green orse- 
 corn was often gathered from the fields, thrown on a fire of burning fence rails and scorched 
 to a good deep brown. Without salt or other condiment it would be devoured with ah the 
 zest of a great luxury. 
 
 When Sherman marched to the sea his orders were, The army will forage liberally 
 on the country during the inarch. To this end each brigade commander will organize a good 
 and sufficient foraging party under the command of one or more discreet officers, who will gather 
 near the route traveled, corn or forage of any kind, meat of any kind, vegetables, corn-meal, 
 or whatever is needed by the command, aiming at all times to keep in the wagons at least 
 ten days’ provisions for his command and three days’ forage. Soldiers must not enter 
 the dwellings of the inhabitants, or commit any trespass; but during a halt or camp they 
 may be permitted to gather turnips, potatoes, and all vegetables, and to drive in stock in 
 sight of the camp. To regular foraging parties must be intrusted the gathering of provisions 
 and forage at any distance from the road traveled.” 
 
 How well the troops obeyed this order, their good condition on their arrival at Savan- 
 General Sherman relates that although the foraging was attended with 
 
 much danger and hard work, there seemed to be a charm about it that attracted the soldiers, 
 and they thought it a privilege to be detailed on a party. He said that he was often amused 
 at the strange collections that were secured of mules, horses, and even cattle, packed with 
 old saddles and loaded with hams, bacon, bags of corn meal and poultry. While walking up 
 to a house on a plantation where a bivouac was made, General Sherman passed by a soldier 
 who had a ham on his musket, a jug of sorghum molasses under his arm and a big piece 
 of honey in his hand, from which he was eating. Catching Sherman’s eye he remarked sotto 
 voce to a comrade, “ Forage liberally on the country 1 ” 
 
 One could conclude in a measure how much food it took to supply an army by watch¬ 
 ing the enormous trains of laden wagons. I heard it stated that the wagon-train of the 
 Army of the Potomac would cover a distance of sixty miles if stretched along a single road. 
 To see the enormous piles of hard-tack and pork barrels at the railroad depots near camp con¬ 
 vinced one of, the truth of the old adage that “ an army marches on its stomach.” When 
 supplies failed, only those in command knew how plans miscarried. 
 

VI. 
 
 THE DRUMMER-BOYS. 
 
 HOSE omnipresent youngsters whose pranks gave so much life to 
 camp or march deserve more than a passing tribute to their 
 characteristic personality. Through rain or sunshine, at rest or 
 in action, they seemed imbued with the same good-nature ; and 
 whether beating the drum or marching with it slung over the 
 shoulder, they were the most picturesque little figures in the 
 Union army. 
 
 Many of them were boys of twelve or thirteen, youths 
 in years, but after a season of army life, men in experience. 
 Parents no doubt sent them forth (or learned of their running 
 away to the army) with grave apprehensions of the dangers they would be exposed to, but if 
 they could have had an occasional glimpse of them in their newly acquired self-reliance and 
 persistency, part of their sympathy might have been bestowed on those with whom the boys 
 came in contact. 
 
 I am sure that many of the housewives of the country through which we marched 
 
 long remembered the modest and innocent-faced youths who so often pestered them in their 
 
 hunger. Nothing seemed to escape their prying eyes ; no well was deep enough to make 
 butter secure from them, and no cellar was sufficiently dark to keep the goodies it contained 
 from their grasp. In camp, any mischief that was set on foot could be safely attributed to 
 
 the drummer-boys and their confederates the fifers. A stern hand was necessary to make 
 
 them obedient to military discipline, and a week in the guard-house or half a day’s penance 
 carrying a log, proved to them that a soldier’s life had restrictions as well as pleasures. And 
 yet they served an important as well as pleasing purpose, for what like their marching rattle- 
 clangor or their sudden camp-calls stirred the soldier’s pulse! And the march on the parade- 
 ground during dress-parade or brigade-drill often inspired hearts that were despondent. Both 
 drummers and fifers were in their special element at a grand review, when they appeared with 
 white gloves and shining brasses. None were so proud in all the glorious array. When the 
 order to “ fall in” was given, they stepped majestically forward, and as the regiment approached 
 the point of review, where perhaps the President or commanding general was posted, they 
 glanced toward the reviewing officer with an expression of self-consciousness which suggested 
 to a looker-on that the parade would have little importance were it not for their presence. 
 
 Painters of military pictures are fond of placing a broken drum in the fore-ground of 
 their battle-scenes; but no representation could be more incorrect, for during a battle the 
 musicians and drummers are detailed to the rear for hospital service, and may often be found 
 behind some fence enjoying a quiet cup of coffee. They were sometimes made use of by the 
 surgeons to bring the wounded men out from under fire on the battle-field, or to carry water 
 to those sick with fever and whose patience in suffering was remarkable. With quick steps 
 and bright faces they did good service and brought hope and cheer to many sufferers. They 
 had their hours of drill under a drum-major, and in some quiet spot near camp would practice 
 the calls and marches. But their unfailing good-nature lightened their many burdens and 
 a volume of anecdotes might be related of their original ventures and ready wit. 
 
 An incident occurs to me now that happened in Virginia, after an order had been 
 
22 
 
 The Drummer-Boys. 
 
 issued from headquarters which forbade foraging. In the early part of the war it was looked 
 upon as trespassing, and those in command failed to appreciate that all civilians outside of 
 our lines were our bitter enemies. One commander thus conscientious met a drummer-boy 
 carrying off a rooster by the heels. “ Did you not know,” said the officer, “ that foraging 
 had been forbidden?” “Yes,” answered the boy sheepishly (but keeping a tight hold on the 
 rooster) “ I know I have done wrong.” Then he looked up with a saucy twinkle : “ But, 
 
 General, he got up on a fence and hurrahed for Jeff Davis, so I killed him.” The general’s 
 face relaxed; he laughed, and said, “Well, go on to camp with your chicken, but no matter 
 whom the next one cheers for, you must not touch him.” 
 
 Ah ! well, the soldiers would have missed other comrades far less than the lively little 
 drummers, and many marches through scorching sun and suffocating dust would have been 
 much harder to bear had it not been for these little musicians. Lagging foot-steps often 
 quickened and weary faces brightened at the sudden sound of drum and fife, and many a “ God 
 bless you, boys ; you give us cheer ” went -out to them in the long march. There is many 
 a duty of war that tries the courage and nerve of the soldier more than the battle-field, with 
 its wild excitement. Marching is one of them ; and when it is remembered that these little 
 chaps were hot and tired and dusty and drooping, as well as the men, it may be seen that 
 it often required genuine heroism in them to unsling their drums and tune up their fifes for 
 the inspiriting of the veterans’ long line of march. They have been celebrated in song and 
 story, and to those who returned to civil duties, memory of army life must seem like a dream. 
 The scenes in which they mingled are now read as history by our children, and when we 
 think of the drummer-boys, may we say fervently : 
 
 “Sweet is the dew of their memory, 
 
 And pleasant the balm of their recollection.” 
 
ment that could be made available. 
 
 A winter camp was generally located on a well drained hillside, convenient to water 
 and accessible to supply teams. After selecting a site the limits of the camp were designated, 
 streets laid out and arrangements vigorously carried forward that the men might get under 
 cover before the inclement weather began. Ax-men were detailed to the nearest pine woods 
 for logs, while others scoured the country in search of further building material. Sometimes' 
 an abandoned house would be discovered, which the men would swarm over and take away 
 piece by piece, until at the end of two or three days nothing would be left of it but the 
 foundation. Everything that could be called a board was of value, and window-frames, doors 
 and sashes were treasures indeed, and seized upon with the greatest eagerness. Even the 
 foundation was not always left to mark the spot where the house had stood, for the stones 
 were available for chimneys, and were often carried away with the rest. 
 
 The walls of the huts were made of pine logs joined together at the corners, and their 
 interstices plastered with yellow mud. Space for a doorway was left at one end, and a chim¬ 
 ney at the other. This was usually made of stones plastered with mud, and extended on the 
 top with one or two barrels, the latter improving the draft, and, in the soldiers’ eyes, adding 
 to the style of architecture. The roofs were often made of canvas, although some of the men 
 were ingenious enough to build them of boards, which gave much more warmth and were 
 rain-proof. 
 
 The commissary’s headquarters in the illustration gives faithful delineation of a style 
 of structure to which the soldiers were most partial. It was furnished quite luxuriously with 
 home-made chairs and benches, a bunk to sleep in, and a fireplace from which came a gentle 
 warmth. The walls were more or less tastefully decorated with pictures cut from the illus¬ 
 trated newspapers, and a visitor, glancing at the interior, would conclude that there were some 
 genial spots in a soldier’s experience. 
 
 Exterior comfort was also considered in neatly laid walks before the door, made of 
 barrel staves. This made a dry spot to sit upon, and the soldiers were often seen together 
 there chatting in the sun. Washtubs was also improvised, by cutting barrels in halves and 
 attaching handles to each section. Protection to horses was a necessary consideration as well 
 as to men, and the arrangement of pine boughs against the chimney in the picture was a 
 stable contrived for the sergeant’s favorite horse. 
 
 It was interesting to watch the groups of men that continually gathered about these 
 
26 
 
 Winter Huts. 
 
 headquarters. The greatest number were seen when rations were issued to the mess. Then 
 pork was weighed out, and liard-tack, coffee and other supplies distributed. Now and then a 
 soldier would appear, to obtain a barrel for a cliimney-top, or a hard-tack box to make a seat 
 for his hut. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great effort made by the men to have their huts habitable, they 
 experienced much discomfort at times. Roofs would leak, and it was not an uncommon sight 
 to see them blown off altogether; then the rain would pour in and cause much consternation 
 until damages could be repaired. Or perhaps an easterly wind would blow down a chimney 
 and so fill the hut with pine smoke that the occupants would be driven into the open air. 
 Then they would scheme anew to remedy the difficulty, and after placing a board across the 
 barrel and trying other experiments, the quarters could be again occupied. 
 
 The winter evenings presented varied scenes in the huts. Many times the men would 
 be sitting before the fire discussing the coming spring campaign, or retailing bits of camp 
 gossip gathered during the day. Again I would find them enjoying a quiet game of euchre or 
 draw-poker by the dim light of a tallow dip furnished by the commissary ; while by the 
 same insufficient light a soldier with thoughtful face would be laboriously penning a letter to 
 the “old folks at home.” Story-telling would often be in order, and the best romancer in the 
 regiment would at times regale the boys with bits of real personal history, and again would 
 trust entirely to his fertile imagination. 
 
 Evenings were also spent in song, and the sound of the manly, mellow voices fell 
 sweetly on the ear. They were often accompanied by the insinuating strains of a violin or 
 the twanging of the banjo. Popular military songs of the period were indulged in with great 
 spirit, and the recollection of their effective influence has always remained vividly in my mind. 
 
 “ Home is where the heart isand the soldier’s home for long months was in his 
 hut. When the spring campaign opened, it was with a pang that the hand of destruction 
 was laid on the shelters, and when the order to “fall in” was given and the column made 
 its way over the hill to the ford to — ^ meet the enemy, regretful glances 
 
 were cast backward at the disman- tied winter-town, soon to be occupied 
 
 by crows and turkey-buzzards, /— ..-v r _ who always flock to a deserted 
 
 camp to feed upon the refuse f % j \ niatter ‘ 
 
 Memories cluster thick / and fast about them now, I 
 
 know, to those who have been 
 in recollection; for at army 
 galore, that were told in those 
 
 spared to live the scenes again 
 re-unions I listen to stories 
 winter camps. 
 
VIII 
 
 A SCOUTING PARTY, 
 
 ANT of occupation or dullness of time were complaints that rarely 
 came from the army scout, as the demand for his services at head¬ 
 quarters was constant. To penetrate the enemy’s lines and locate 
 his out-posts and main body would often be a sudden and peremp¬ 
 tory order. Then the necessity of burning a bridge to impede the 
 enemy’s progress would unexpectedly present itself, and the frequent 
 intelligence received of the activity of bushwhackers and guerrillas 
 would cause the scouts to be despatched beyond* the lines to abate, if 
 possible, that never-ending annoyance. 
 
 The scouts connected with the army were an active and wiry body of men, who were 
 expert horsemen, splendidly mounted. They usually traveled in small parties to escape ob¬ 
 servation, and were dressed in gray homespun to look as much as possible like the inhabi¬ 
 tants of the country where active operations were carried on. They were always well armed 
 with carbines and revolvers. 
 
 I had the pleasure of accompanying several scouting parties during the war, and remem¬ 
 ber most vividly my exciting experiences with that branch of the service. During the many 
 campaigns in the Shenandoah Valley I scoured the country on both sides of the pike from 
 Harper’s Ferry to Port Republic in company with scouts from the various commands ; and 
 later, under Gen. Grant, during the campaign from the Wilderness to Petersburg had a num¬ 
 ber of adventures with the scouts of Sheridan’s cavalry. 
 
 Shortly after the battle of the Wilderness a party of six scouts were sent by Gen. 
 Grant to locate the enemy’s right flank, and to discover whether the bridges over the North 
 Anna River were held by a strong force, and also if Lee’s army, which then occupied Spott- 
 sylvania Court House, was receiving heavy reinforcements from Richmond. I received permis¬ 
 sion to accompany this party and started with them at midnight from camp near Todd’s 
 Tavern. We moved to the left in the direction of Port Royal. On the first day we did not 
 meet any force of the enemy and about noon entered the town, consisting of but few houses, 
 a blacksmith’s shop and a tavern. Ascertaining from contrabands that a small force of Stuart’s 
 cavalry was posted a few miles to the south, beyond the Mattapony River, we succeeded in 
 slipping past by crossing a ford below them. We proceeded at a trot in the direction of the 
 North Anna River, with an advance guard of two men three hundred feet ahead, meeting 
 with no adventure until five o’clock. Then our guard come back at a gallop, with pistols 
 drawn, and reported having come face to face with three Confederate cavalrymen at a turn in 
 the road a short distance ahead. Preparations were at once made to receive an attack from 
 the body to which that advance guard of three probably belonged; but after waiting about 
 five minutes, our own advance was sent cautiously forward again and found that the enemy 
 had disappeared. 
 
 Later in the afternoon we saw clouds of dust in the south and west, and moving cautiously 
 that way, we were able to get a view of large bodies of troops moving in the direction of 
 Spottsylvania. A battle was evidently in progress at that place, as we could hear the steady 
 growling of guns in the distance. We esconced ourselves in a piece of woods on a hill-top 
 
 ag 
 
3° 
 
 A Scouting Party. 
 
 three-quarters of a mile from the road where the enemy’s troops were marching, and watched 
 
 them with intense interest till sundown. 
 
 Feeling unsafe in such close proximity to the armies, we accosted an old contraband, 
 evidently a slave, and ashed if we could reach a certain point by riding over the farm where 
 he was. “ No, sail! ” he replied. “ Massa wouldn’t let nobody ride ober his farm, but you 
 might go down the road by the ole mill and git thar that way.” Our ideas of Massa s 
 rights, however, differed from those of the old negro and we started across country. Toward 
 daylight we neared the North Anna River and learned from negroes that the stream was held 
 by a force of cavalry, and that the railroad-bridge was strongly fortified and guarded. 
 
 On approaching the enemy’s position carefully, we were able to see, with the aid of a 
 field-glass, men at work on the earthworks. At intervals we could hear the rumbling of 
 trains and the screech of a locomotive whistle, showing that Gen. Lee was still in commu¬ 
 nication with Richmond. We posted a sentinel near the edge of some woods and rested within 
 them until nightfall, when the commanding officer wisely determined to return to the army. 
 
 Starting, we avoided as much as possible the main road and moved cautiously north¬ 
 ward. Toward midnight we saw the glare of camp-fires on a hill a mile or two distant, and 
 were obliged to make a detour to the eastward to avoid possible capture. Toward daylight 
 we struck the road leading to Fredericksburg and came in sight of a party of the enemy’s 
 cavalry, who made a dash to capture us. Two of the scouts were slightly wounded, but 
 hard riding saved us, and we reached the right of the Union lines near Spottsylvania just as 
 Gen. Grant’s army was moving by the left flank in the direction of the North Anna River. 
 
 The country lying between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Orange and Alexandria 
 Railroad was thoroughly scouted during the war, as large parties of guerrillas under the 
 redoubtable Mosby made life miserable for the Union forces in that section of Virginia. In 
 the West, scouts of the Union army did splendid service, often penetrating hundreds of miles 
 into the enemy’s lines and returning with information of great value to the commanding 
 generals. During the Atlanta campaign Gen. Sherman relied greatly on the work of scouts, 
 and had large numbers of them out in the enemy’s country in front. In West Virginia and 
 East Tennessee the scouts were natives of the mountains, true Union men, whose spirit for 
 our success was intensified by sufferings endured and outrages inflicted by the hands of their 
 Secession neighbors. Brother often fought against brother, and family feuds commenced then 
 have been continued to the present day. West of the Mississippi the scouts were generally 
 recruited from the men of the plains, Indian fighters and hunters, and in some cases half- 
 
 breed Indians were 
 vice of this corps, 
 solidated into one 
 branch of the army 
 bravery which will 
 
 enlisted in the ser- 
 Although not con- 
 command, this 
 performed deeds of 
 live in memory as 
 self. All histori- 
 do full justice to 
 ing body of soldiers. 
 
 long as ’the war it- ^ 
 ans should seek to ||L| 
 this brave and dar- Js! 
 

IX. 
 
 A NIGHT MARCH. 
 
 ILE IT IS always preferable for a great army to advance on an 
 enemy by the light of day, there have been some most wonderful 
 marches made in the dead of night. Many Union soldiers can recall 
 to mind the varied scenes of adventure when they tramped in dark¬ 
 ness through unknown country, occupied by the enemy in such strong 
 force, and so well fortified at every available point, that it seemed 
 like an impossibility to make an attack that would result in any¬ 
 thing but defeat. 
 
 None had more interest for me than a march I made in 1863 
 with the Army of the Potomac under command of Gen. Hooker, when it left the winter camp 
 on the north fork of the Rappahannock, opposite the town of Fredericksburg. This town was 
 then occupied by the Confederate army commanded by Gen. R. E. Lee; and upon orders from 
 Washington active preparations were made to turn their position and drive them out of their 
 fortified lines. 
 
 The whole Union army, except three corps under Gen. Sedgwick, marched up the north 
 fork of the Rappahannock and, crossing on pontoons at Kelly’s Ford, moved rapidly to Ely 
 Ford on the Rapidan. Fording this stream (about four feet deep) the troops advanced quickly 
 and took Chancellorsville, thus placing themselves on the enemy’s rear and flank. Holding 
 this menacing position, Gen. Hooker gave orders to fortify a strong line in the dense woods 
 surrounding Chancellorsville, where he awaited the enemy’s attack. Meanwhile, Sedgwick’s 
 command had made a strong feint below Fredericksburg by crossing the river on pontoons 
 and displaying a large force in front of the Confederate entrenched lines, on the hills in rear 
 of the town. Two corps were then detached from Sedgwick’s force and marched in the direc¬ 
 tion of the United States Ford to form a junction with our main body under Gen. Hooker. 
 Heavy skirmishing and some fighting had already taken place, which suggested a determina¬ 
 tion on the part of the enemy to retain possession of their stronghold. 
 
 I accompanied the detached column along the north fork of the Rappahannock late in the 
 afternoon, and approached the ford, at which point on the river two pontoon-bridges had been 
 thrown across. As we marched along, we could hear artillery and musketry fire from the 
 opposite side of the river, but did not suppose the contest would be intense before we could 
 reach the field. Just before dusk, however, a tremendous volume of sound came from the 
 woods where the two armies confronted each other. It commenced with crackling musketry 
 fire, as if advancing skirmish lines had become engaged, and soon swelled into a continuous 
 roar which made the ground tremble with its power. Now and then could be heard a separate 
 cannon shot, as if but few guns had secured favorable position. As tile musketry fire became 
 louder, we knew that the Union lines were being forced back, and clouds of dust and smoke 
 rolled’up from the woods where the two gallant armies were struggling for victory. 
 
 Our pace was quickened, and troops hurried forward in route-step to succor the hard- 
 pressed Union lines. From the high bank on our side of the river we could get a view of 
 the field of conflict, on our approach to the ford. Looking over the stream we saw a densely 
 wooded country stretching for miles toward the south and west, In the open fields of the 
 foreground were ammunition and supply trains, reserve artillery, extra pontoon-trains, in fact, 
 
 33 
 
A Night March. 
 
 34 
 
 all the impedimenta of a great army. It was a thrilling scene as it lay bathed in the warm 
 glow of a May sunset. Clouds of smoke rolled up from the woods, which in many places 
 had taken fire, and as we stopped to gaze for a moment we might conclude, were it not for 
 
 the noise, that the sight before us was the conflagration of a great city. 
 
 We descended the hill to the river, and crossing on the pontoons, were soon on our 
 way towards the front. We passed through the wagon-camps on a flat near the river, and 
 ascending a gentle slope were soon in the dense woods beyond. Darkness had now fallen, and the 
 din of the conflict increased, though we concluded that the enemy’s advance had been checked, 
 as the reports of firing came no nearer. Sounds rose and fell as the opposing forces changed 
 position, coming clearly and distinctly from a wooded ridge but with muffled tone from the 
 valleys. Suddenly there came a burst of artillery, and a tremendous roar continued for one 
 hour. Then word was received that the enemy’s advance had been checked. 
 
 Suddenly we met straggling parties of demoralized troops hurrying towards the rear, 
 and found on inquiry that the Eleventh Corps, holding the right flank of our army, had been 
 
 surprised and put to rout by Stonewall Jackson, who had been making one of his famous 
 
 forced marches for the purpose. These men were panic-stricken, rushing about at random 
 with no directness of movement, their only thought being to get away from the bullets. Guards 
 were thrown out on both sides of the road to put an end to the disgraceful confusion, and 
 when the way was cleared we pushed forward toward the firing. 
 
 I shall never forget the scene at this point, at nine o’clock. Fires were blazing on 
 every side, which, with the pine trees that had been ignited, so lit up the road that objects 
 were as discernible as in the day; and surging through it all was a mass of earnest, 
 determined men who were intent only on reaching the line of battle where they could be of 
 service to their struggling comrades. Marching hurriedly forward, they soon came to a road 
 leading from Ely’s Ford to Chancellorsville, and deploying to right and left the lines were 
 very shortly in such a position that the damage done by Jackson’s masterly surprise was 
 almost made good, although a last desperate attempt was made at eleven o’clock to take pos¬ 
 session of a plateau surrounding the Chancellorsville House. 
 
 The incidents on the road during the remainder of the night were full of absorbing 
 interest, for troops were continuously pushed forward. The moon looked placidly down as 
 the column of men, broken here and there by batteries of artillery and ammunition-wagons, 
 hurried toward the front, and through the woods on all sides could be seen large bodies of 
 men in reserve, grouped around camp-fires, preparing coffee and other much needed food. 
 Thousands were wrapped in gray blankets, sleeping peacefully, dreaming perhaps of a far-off 
 home, while only a mile away the roar of the musketry rose and fell in continuous sound. 
 
 Soon after midnight there was a cessation of battle-turmoil; but the rumbling trains 
 and weary troops steadily made their way through the smoky wood until the sun lit up the 
 eastern horizon. 
 
 Thus the great night march was ended, and the last of twenty thousand men who had 
 marched bravely during the night came straggling by. Their eyes were so heavy that they 
 could scarce keep them open, but so high were they in spirit that a passer-by would think 
 they were marching to a scene of pleasure instead of perhaps to a field of death. 
 

X. 
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT. 
 
 HACK ON BARTH, good-will toward men ” could not ring out its grate¬ 
 ful cadence in the scenes of conflict through which our army was 
 passing; nor even during the ordinary camp rests, when most 
 of the soldiers, if they had anything in the nature of a special 
 banquet in honor of the ancient festival of good cheer, had to 
 get it by special foraging in the enemy’s country. Yet, although 
 - there were no home-greetings, tender memories of Christmas- 
 tide filled the hearts of the soldiers and took them back in 
 thought to where little ones sang in anthem the story of old. 
 Remote from scenes most dear and happy in the consciousness 
 of a country’s defense, our brave men brushed away a tear and sought to enjoy the holiday 
 as best they might. 
 
 I was just feeling a sense of my own loneliness one Christmas day when an officer of 
 the Signal Corps invited me to take dinner with some friends of his on the picket-line. It 
 was quite early in the morning when we mounted our horses and started from camp. After 
 riding some miles, we came in sight of the picket-reserves; then rode on and found that the 
 main picket-line extended across a valley through which flowed a creek. Nearing a point of 
 crossing, we passed a picket-post on a sand-bar in the middle of the stream, and halted a 
 while to admire the beautiful surroundings. The hut, which was prettily fashioned of pine 
 boughs, sheltered three or four sleeping men, while the cook was getting a frugal dinner ready 
 on the camp-fire in front. Near-by, the officers’ mess was being prepared, and we were cor¬ 
 dially invited to partake of “chicken fricassee, camp-style.” The odor of the cooking was 
 appetizing, and our long ride had given us an appetite, but as we were expected elsewhere, 
 we were obliged to decline and soon took leave of the hospitable officers. 
 
 We rode down the line and found the post, commanded by my comrade’s friend, on an 
 old farm road. The men were camped in the farm garden, where they had thrown up a shelter 
 of boards against the fence as a protection from the cold wind. We dismounted in the barn¬ 
 yard, and entrusted our horses to an old negro servant who promised them a feed of corn. 
 We were most cordially received, and the dinner was soon placed before us on a table impro¬ 
 vised from the cover of an oat-bin. 
 
 We found that living on the outer picket-line was much better than in the main army 
 camp, and were surprised at the real luxuries placed before us, most of which had been 
 obtained from the farmers at very small cost. The bill of fare consisted of rabbit-stew, 
 fricasseed chicken, griddle-cakes with honey, and excellent coffee. To this we did full justice, 
 and, with the addition of a little “commissary,” had a more enjoyable feast than we had 
 eaten in months. The rough fellows often detailed as cooks, and especially the “ darkeys,” 
 who attached themselves to the various commands as camp-followers and servants of all kinds, 
 developed much culinary talent at times, and the clearness of the coffee and toothsomeness of 
 their simple dishes would put to shame many a professional cook. It is fair to allow, however, 
 that perhaps the admirable hunger-sauce of outdoor life had something to do with these 
 savory concoctions. 
 
 After an hour or two of social chat over our pipes, we rode further down the line and 
 stopped at various points to talk with friends who were on duty. None seemed to have fared 
 
 37 
 
38 
 
 Christmas at the Front. 
 
 as sumptuously as ourselves; most of the men were cooking salt pork, though one party had 
 secured a turkey from a neighboring farmer and looked lovingly towards it as it roasted before 
 the glowing camp-fire. Some of the men were fortunate enough to have received boxes from 
 home, and their faces grew bright as they lifted out roast turkey, chickens, bread, cake and 
 pies that kindly hands had prepared. An occasional bottle of “ old rye,” secreted in a turkey 
 or loaf of bread, would give rise to much fun and expected enjoyment. The provost guard, 
 however, seldom overlooked a bottle, and confiscated any contraband liquor, and his long 
 experience had bred in him a sort of special sense for any such little infractions of the rule, 
 which was inflexible even for Christmas, and if got the better of at all had to be by a skillful 
 and imperceptible breaking. 
 
 But little more of interest came in our way on the agreeable trip I have mentioned, 
 and we returned to camp much brightened by the scenes which so pleasantly broke the 
 monotony of soldier life on that Christmas day at the front. 
 

THE ARMY HERD. 
 
 EEF ON THE HOOF ” was the soldiers’ name for the fresh 
 ' i beef furnished them, and the herds of cattle from which it 
 came were no inconsiderable portion of the army’s supplies. 
 > The Commissary Department usually furnished a certain num¬ 
 ber of steers to each moving column, and it was a pleasant 
 sight to watch the droves with their escorts as they traveled 
 along the road. A stalwart white ox, with eyes too gentle to 
 suggest slaughter, would sometimes be in lead, and around his neck would be hung blankets, 
 a cartridge-box and other accoutrements of the guard. Often a soldier would sit astride the 
 animal in lead and guide him with a long pole, while the rest of the herd would be kept in 
 order by a series of vigorous shouts. 
 
 When a herd reached camp at night-fall, it would be driven into an adjacent field, 
 where it was carefully guarded during the night and where it could rest and feed till the 
 column moved again. 
 
 Sometimes fresh beef rations would be issued to the men while in the midst of battle. 
 I recall to mind an instance where during an engagement I was watching an army butcher 
 slaughter an ox, when a sudden charge was made by the Rebs which quickly caused a scat¬ 
 tering of both spectators and men engaged in the work. The herd of cattle stampeded and 
 dashed back through the ammunition trains and lines of troops, causing a great panic for a time. 
 
 Cattle were collected by foraging par- 
 ^ ties whenever practicable, and dur¬ 
 ing Sherman’s “ March to the 
 Sea,” immense numbers 
 were secured in the rich 
 
42 
 
 The Army Herd. 
 
 They were not peculiar in that, however, and I have already noted the importance to all army 
 operations of the “commissary of subsistence.” One can well believe what is said of the 
 ancient Romans, that their success in war was not altogether the result of their indomitable 
 courage and splendid discipline, but that these were sustained by the fact that they paid more 
 attention than any other nation of their times to the organized and efficient serving of the 
 commissariat of their army. If it is true that man must eat to live, it is indisputable that 
 man must eat to march and fight. 
 
 I once saw a herd of beautiful cattle being driven through the streets of Baltimore. 
 The leader, a handsome red ox, was mounted by a Zouave who sat astride with his Springfield 
 musket across his knee. “A picture of war and peace!” I thought: the dashing Zouave with 
 bronzed skin, strong, characteristic face and gaudy uniform; and the patient beast, whose eyes 
 wondered mildly at the sights of a great city. 
 
XII. 
 
 THE MOVING COLUMN. 
 
 K most interesting war-sight to an observer is a great army on the 
 march. I learned one morning that the whole army had been ordered 
 to move forward, so I mounted my mare Kitty and rode out to see 
 the great column pass by. 
 
 The first object that came in sight in the distance was a divis¬ 
 ion of cavalry, the advance guard, which presented a splendid appear¬ 
 ance. The horses had evidently had hard service, but looked tough 
 and business-like. Neither had the soldiers a superfluous pound of 
 flesh upon them, but both officers and men looked bronzed and hardy, 
 and, like the horses, appeared able to endure continued hardship. 
 Flags and guidons were flying and sabres clattering, and men were 
 chatting and laughing. In rear of the cavalry several batteries of horse-artillery rumbled 
 along. The powder-and-smoke-blackened muzzles gave evidence of recent service, as did the 
 limbers and caissons covered with mud and dust; blankets and other traps were fastened to 
 the latter, and here and there a bag of oats or bundle of hay for the horses. 
 
 Just behind, the headquarters flag appeared to view, and I knew that the commanding 
 general, Grant, was approaching. I had not seen him in some time, so awaited his coming 
 with pleasure. He sat his horse with easy grace, his right hand resting upon his thigh. He 
 wore a slouch hat ornamented with a cord, a double-breasted military coat carelessly thrown 
 open, and a vest which had lost two buttons. He was, as usual, without belt or sword, and 
 had the inevitable cigar in his mouth, unliglited. Anxieties and responsibilities had left tell¬ 
 ing traces, for the general was much thinner than when he left winter camp a few months 
 previous; but the resolute face, which time proved so true an index of character, remained 
 the same. After Gen. Grant came the headquarters staff, followed by a cavalry escort. 
 
 Then came the infantry, and as they surged along I was struck with surprise at the 
 youthful appearance of the troops. Many of the enlisted men were hardly more than boys; 
 but notwithstanding their few years they looked strong and muscular, their blankets and 
 knapsacks slung over one shoulder and canteens clattering a refrain to their steps. Their 
 bright faces bespoke the best of cheer, and a ringing laugh echoed along one part of the 
 column when some witty fellow had made an amusing remark. 
 
 The staff officers rode backward and forward with anxious oversight, while the company 
 officers made effort to hold the men to their gait. The general color of the troops’ clothing, 
 originally blue, was a greenish yellow; the sun and rain having faded the uniforms, and the 
 yellow dust of marching settled thickly in the fabric. A Zouave regiment soon appeared, and 
 the gay uniforms of the officers and troops gave new brightness to the moving column, 
 although their flowing, baggy trousers were mostly tattered. One Zouave who wore an old 
 white “stove-pipe” hat was the subject of much merriment; he had evidently lost his fez in 
 the last encounter, and in the bereavement had donned some old farmer’s ancient head-gear. 
 Quite a number were barefooted, and gingerly picked their way over stony places, and the 
 poor fellows were laughed at by inconsiderate comrades when a misstep caused them to wince 
 with pain. 
 
 After I had viewed thus for hours the varied elements of the army on the march, a 
 
 45 
 
4 6 
 
 The Moving Column. 
 
 low, rumbling sound broke upon my ear, and sharp glances and quickened footsteps told of 
 the men’s realization that their front was already engaged with the enemy. The column was 
 now shifted to one side of the road, and a couple of batteries dashed along, the speed of the 
 horses increased by the slash of whips and cries of drivers. The gunners ran frantically by 
 the side of their pieces or clung excitedly to the ammunition boxes. The column was soon 
 doubled up, the rear division taking to the fields beside the road. Fences across their course 
 seemed to disappear at a touch, and corn and wheat fields were swarmed over as if by a 
 legion of locusts. Ambulances were scattered through the column to pick up the sick, and 
 the pale faces that glanced out from some of them told how severe a strain the march had 
 been in many instances. Several times I saw men fall out of the ranks too foot-sore to pro¬ 
 ceed a single step further, and after receiving the captain’s admonition to return to duty as 
 soon as possible, would retreat to the shelter of a fence-corner and fall into the sleep of sheer 
 exhaustion, oblivious to the clatter and noise. 
 
 The sun was scorching, and the dust suffocating as it drifted to leeward and settled a 
 foot deep over grass and weeds, and lay like heaps of winter snow on the fence rails. A 
 grateful though brief respite was given to the troops, and as the column halted, the men 
 dropped down in the dust by the road-side to snatch a moment’s rest. Orders to “fall in” 
 were soon given, and the weary column was again under way. Ammunition wagons were 
 hurried forward, and the negro drivers lashed their animals and yelled as if to hasten the 
 speed at every jump. The baggage-trains were turned off the road and parked in the fields 
 to await the outcome of the struggle. One unusual picture presented itself: two infantrymen 
 languidly mounted on an old gray horse; one was wounded and the other sick, if a pale, 
 sad face was any criterion. A drummer-boy was acting the Good Samaritan by carefully lead¬ 
 ing the horse and conveying the suffering soldiers to a place of refuge. Meanwhile, the 
 infantry still surged along, officers urging their men to increased speed. When the chief 
 part of the column had passed, stragglers that always follow an army and foot-sore men 
 tramped on, wagons guarded by infantry, reserve artillery, army forges and pontoon-trains, 
 followed in irregular line. Occasional groups of men limped by, different ones being supported 
 by a liay-fork or a crutch made of a forked stick. The road now became littered with blankets 
 and knapsacks flung away by the troops when they could no longer endure their weight in 
 the weary march. Some parts of the road were blue with overcoats cast away, no doubt 
 without a thought of the protecting warmth they would lend at niglit-fall. 
 
 Interspersed through the column were negro servants of officers, many of them very 
 grotesque. They were all proud of their new-found freedom, and stepped gleefully chattering 
 along as if to the “ Happy Land, far, far away.” Some of them had confiscated old mules 
 and horses, over which they had slung kettles and camp utensils in ridiculous fashion, and 
 
 seated astride some of the animals ___were the pickaninnies, trusting to 
 
 an unknown future with their ^ happy parents. And so the last 
 
 scene of this wonderful pan- /-< . - — —- ~ -<■ orama of human beings passed 
 
 by, and the resident whites /■ ; j - J and negroes of the locality 
 
 ventured out from their hiding-places and picked 
 
 up the too-plentiful cloth- ing, as if to say, “ There 
 
 is no great loss without ■ iM& \ some small gain.” 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

XIII. 
 
 THE SOUP-KETTLE. 
 
 WINTER CAMP. 
 
 T WAS a cold and dreary day that I rode through camps scattered 
 over miles of hillside, and as the wind moaned through the pines 
 and the chilling blast swept my face, visions of home and its cosy 
 comforts came back to me. But before I could long indulge in 
 regrets, peculiarities of the different camp-liomes so interested me 
 that thoughts of my own hardships were put to flight. 
 
 It never occurred to me before that there could be class-dis¬ 
 tinctions in camp-life, yet that such a thing was possible was at this time clearly defined. 
 One regimental home would have an air of neatness and comfort which bore evidence of effi¬ 
 cient officers, and their care of the men; all would be sprucely dressed, healthy in appearance 
 and alert and intelligent in their movements. But in immediate vicinity, and with the same 
 opportunities of comfort, I would find a carelessly constructed camp, with men poorly dressed, 
 sluggish in movement and despondent in spirit. 
 
 “ This is like all life,” I said; “ even where conditions are the same, some will thrive 
 and pronounce the world a success, while others will falter by the wayside and discover 
 nothing within grasp.” 
 
 It was early in the day and all were astir in the camp-streets, and it took but a few 
 glances to conclude that preparations were being made for dinner. Some were cutting wood, 
 others were building fires, and the cooks were concocting the simple but savory soup. The 
 fires were usually made of pine; but when hard wood was obtainable it was preferred, as it 
 lasted longer. Beans were the basis of soup, as a rule, and these with a piece of salt pork 
 always made an appetizing mess to a sol¬ 
 dier. Beef soup was sometimes served, 
 when an addition of desiccated vegetables 
 (“ desecrated ” the boys called them) could 
 be had. Occasionally a company secured 
 a cook who had served in a restaurant, and 
 his services were greatly appreciated, for 
 he could often make a most acceptable 
 mess from very simple ingredients. The 
 cooks were amusing characters, who held 
 rather rigid sway and whose word relative 
 to the composition of a soup was law. 
 
 They used for soup-making heavy sheet- 
 iron camp kettles, which were slung over 
 the fire on a pole, each end of which rested 
 on a forked stick. 
 
 I stopped at one of the camps just 
 as the dinner call sounded, and was amused 
 at the quickness with which the men responded to the lively notes of fife and drum. All houses 
 on the company-street were soon vacated, and a general move made towards the soup-kettles. 
 
 49 
 

 The Soup-Kettle. 
 
 Some of the men came with coffee-cups and others with tin pails made from tomato and fruit 
 cans. The latter were sold in great quantities by the suflers to the soldiers during the 
 winter season. 
 
 I watched the hungry but orderly line that formed in front of the fire, as they patiently 
 awaited their turn. First came a fair-faced boy of perhaps eighteen summers, full of life and 
 with the rosy glow of health. Next came a more sedate man, but none the less, hungry if 
 one could judge from the anxious look on his face as he watched the filling of his can. A 
 good natured Irishman some distance in the rear kept all the men laughing. Say, Bill, he 
 called out to the cook, “ Skim the top for thim fellers but kape the grounds for me. Sich boys 
 can live on thin soup, but we men nades something thicker.” “Oh,” said a slow German 
 near the end of the line, “ Give us some kraut and Limburger, and shust one class of pier.” 
 “ Shut up, Dutchy! ” cried out a New Yorker, “ this ain’t the Bowery. Take what you can 
 get, and be thankful.” And so talk was exchanged until the whole line had been served and 
 the last man had taken his departure. 
 
 I followed on to one of the nearest huts, which I found most comfortable, and tenanted 
 by three men who were at dinner. They sat near a center-table made of boards taken from an 
 old barn door. On it was set the soup and wheat bread which the commissary served during 
 the winter, some hard-tack, and some cake sent from one of the soldiers’ homes the week 
 before. They were all young, and a jolly party, who had little thought of what privations 
 or disaster the next campaign might bring them. There was often much of quiet enjoyment 
 about the soldiers’ dinner in winter camp, and thoughts of the pleasant times must have come 
 back to the boys in the hot summer march. Then hard-tack and raw salt pork became lux¬ 
 uries, and a hurried bite under fire was often all they could get; and water,—ah ! how they 
 longed for just one swallow of water as they tramped through dusty road and field amid 
 singing bullets and bursting shells! Sometimes they had to drop and sleep without supper; 
 and those poor fellows used up by the way fared badly enough. But whatever of comfort or 
 discomfort was theirs, they were usually in cheerful mood; and even when they grumbled, 
 at bottom one could find, by a little probing, the solid sentiment —“The Union must be saved!' 1 '' 
 
a’i in w rrswaa 
 
XIV. 
 
 MARCHING THROUGH THE RAIN. 
 
 HO THAT rendered service in the great war will ever forget the 
 discomforts of long marches in the rain or tramps in the deep mud! 
 
 The roughest experience that I can recall was one day’s 
 march when orders came to flank the enemy’s position. The Union 
 army had for some time been trying to dislodge the enemy, but 
 found entrenchments so strong that this could not be done by direct 
 attack, and the commander-in-chief decided that a flank movement 
 was the only way by which the Rebs could be forced out of their 
 impregnable lines. 
 
 Word came at midnight that a move must be made, and we were ordered to withdraw 
 cautiously from our breastworks, which in some places were only a few hundred yards from 
 the enemy’s line. The men were ordered to make as little noise as possible and to prevent 
 the rattling of accoutrements. Officers were told to give command in low tones so that the 
 opposing pickets should not suspect that a move of great importance was taking place. The 
 advance skirmish-line, which was in close proximity to the enemy, was left in position ; but 
 was ordered to withdraw at the first gray light of dawn. The movement commenced at mid¬ 
 night and was successfully accomplished, as the night was cloudy and an impenetrable dark¬ 
 ness overspread the country. The men crept along toward the rear, feeling their way through 
 tangled woods and swamps with an instinct that came of years of severe experience. 
 
 At daylight drizzling rain began to fall, and a cold east wind gave promise of an un¬ 
 comfortable march ; but after a halt was made and a hearty breakfast eaten, the column started 
 in good earnest, determined to gain a position which would make the enemy loosen his grip. 
 The rain soon fell heavily, and our men marched steadily through its down-pour, protecting 
 themselves as best they could. Some covered themselves with rubber ponchos, and often one 
 would share his with a less fortunate comrade by stretching the rubber covering across two 
 short poles and marching underneath the shelter of this improvised umbrella. Some would 
 cover themselves with blankets, but these, not being waterproof, gave only partial protection. 
 The column after a time presented a soaked and bedraggled appearance ; the road became 
 slippery, and the mules and horses as they plunged along spattered the mud in showers. 
 Fine uniforms were covered, and the entire column partook of the clay-color of the road. 
 When descending into a valley the men would be compelled to wade through water which 
 within a few hours had increased from a rivulet to a torrent. Sometimes the water would 
 reach the waist; but the troops would plunge through, shouting and laughing at the mishaps 
 of those who slipped and for a moment disappeared in the muddy stream. Some of the sol¬ 
 diers sought to better things by throwing up temporary bridges of logs ; but the greater pro¬ 
 portion did not seem to think it worth the effort, and accepted conditions as they were. At 
 times when the ground was too soft to march upon, delay would be prevented by building a 
 corduroy road, which is a laying of logs crosswise. 
 
 The column was halted about midday, and the cavalry in advance was pushed forward 
 to learn if the enemy had prepared to resist our movement. Meanwhile the men were hud¬ 
 dled together along the roads and in the fields, protecting themselves as well as possible 
 from the driving rain. Officers sought the shelter of old barns and farm-houses whenever 
 
 53 
 
Marching Through the Rain. 
 
 54 
 
 possible, and all hands made a quick cup of hot coffee and snatched a bite from the haver¬ 
 sacks. A message soon came from the advance cavalry that the way was clear, and after an 
 hour’s halt the column pushed on. I sat on my horse by the roadside for an hour and saw 
 the troops go by. The formation was in open order, each man marching at his own ease and 
 carrying his gun as he could. At times the column would take to the fields, and throwing 
 down the fences would make a wide-beaten road, brushing aside the corn and trampling the 
 wheat and rye into a miry mass. The men at last marched quietly and soberly, there being 
 an entire absence of the laughter and banter heard in fair weather or even in the early part 
 of the day. The mounted officers sat their horses glum and reticent, huddled in their pon¬ 
 chos, and showed but little activity,—except that when a canteen was passed about occasion¬ 
 ally, that smelt suspiciously strong, they awakened into new life. 
 
 In rear of the infantry column came the artillery, literally smothered in mud, clouds 
 of steam arising from the heated bodies of the horses as they tugged away to what seemed 
 their utmost at the harness; and yet the poor creatures made renewed effort to cross the soft 
 spots, when the drivers urgently cracked their whips and made hortatory remarks! Back and 
 forth on the flank of the column staff-officers were hurrying, to urge the men into rapid and 
 continuous movement so that the line should not be broken and distance lost. Although in 
 sympathy with the brave men who suffered so much discomfort, my sense of the ludicrous 
 was aroused at the grotesque appearance of the officers’ contraband servants; cooking utensils 
 were slung over their backs or upon poles, and some were leading horses and mules which 
 were laden with full paraphernalia of a camp-kitchen. They seemed demoralized and generally 
 despondent, given to sighs and groans as they marched along. Last of all came the wagon- 
 trains, escorted by infantry-guards, the mules doing splendid work under the incessant lash¬ 
 ing and urging of the dusky drivers. 
 
 But here I took a short cut across country and soon reached the head of the column, 
 when I found the troops going into camp, in rain-soaked fields, on a ridge of ground that 
 crossed the line of march at right angles. Information had been received that the enemy 
 were posted a short distance in front, and had the day been fair our troops would not have 
 gone into bivouac but into fight. The commanding general, however, knowing that the am- 
 
 such a storm, did not think an at¬ 
 one could imagine possible, 
 the little “pup tents” and 
 camp-fires drifted across 
 and wretched, our brave 
 yet willing in their 
 into battle at the first 
 the flag.” 
 
 munition was liable to damage in 
 tack advisable. In less time 
 the fields were dotted i 
 the smoke of hundreds ■ 
 the ridge. Rain-soaked 
 boys lay down to rest, 
 weariness to spring 
 alarm and “ follow 
 
XV. 
 
 THE RESERVE LINE. 
 
 O A PERSON unaquainted with military movements or engagements, 
 it is natural to conclude that all interest should center in the line 
 of battle, but while the desperate work which decides an army’s 
 fate is done there, so much of smoke and confusion exists that there 
 is not the opportunity for careful study of individual things that 
 there is in the rear. 
 
 So, one afternoon, in the heat of a great battle, I mounted my 
 horse and rode back along the reserve line to witness whatever scenes 
 of interest there might be. I first came upon a park of ammunition 
 wagons with the kind and caliber of contents marked plainly on the canvas covers and ready at 
 a moment’s notice to dash forward and distribute supplies to those sorely pressed at the front. 
 
 Near-by was a cavalry brigade; the men were in most cases dismounted and held the 
 bridles of their horses as they grazed on the grass or picked at the sheaves of wheat in the 
 field throughout which they were scattered. Picturesque groups of officers were gathered here 
 and there under the shade of trees, for the heat of the sun was intense. Further on I found 
 the ambulance corps posted, and watched their continuous dispatching to the front with the 
 necessary appliances for the wounded. Riding on a short distance beyond, I came to a line 
 of ambulances moving slowly to the rear, and, following them as they turned up an old lane, 
 I found a field-hospital with its terrible scenes of suffering. It was an apple-orchard in rear 
 of an old farm-house, and beneath the shade of trees and under tents hundreds of wounded 
 men were lying. I was much impressed at the stillness of so many sufferers, and thought 
 that their patient resignation bore strange contrasts to the descriptions I had read of the 
 “ shrieks of the wounded and groans of the dying.” 
 
 Surgeons were grouped about an operating-table improvised from an old barn-door, and 
 as I rode close upon them I saw that an infantry soldier was raised up and placed before 
 them. From the blood stains on his pantaloons he had evidently been wounded in the upper 
 part of the leg, and his pale face bore an anxious expression as the surgeons prepared to 
 examine his injury. One of them calmly thrust his finger deep into the wound, felt about, 
 withdrew it and spoke in a whisper to an assistant at his side. “ Will it have to come off, 
 doctor?” the wounded man asked anxiously. “I’m afraid it will, my good man,” he replied 
 kindly. The poor fellow closed his eyes and with a sob said “All right; I expected to give 
 my life if need be, and if I only lose a leg I pay the debt easily. Go ahead.” 
 
 Following the ascent of a hill I came to a battery of reserve artillery, and from this 
 position I had quite a view of the battle in progress. Groups of interested spectators -were 
 scattered about the guns, some sitting on the wheels, others standing on the axles. Officers 
 in front were watching the ebb and flow of the battle through glasses. Some of the men 
 were sleeping under a temporary shelter of boards which they had thrown up as a protection 
 from the burning sun of that hot day. Several men were making coffee and two or three 
 groups of men sheltered under the shady side of a caisson were engaged in playing poker. 
 This amusement seemed in strange contrast to the death struggles taking place not a mile 
 distant, and I wondered how the indifferent fellows could have so little apprehension of their 
 fate. “Sufficient unto the day,” perhaps, “is the evil thereof.” 
 
 57 
 
5§ 
 
 The Reserve Line. 
 
 The Reserve Line was usually a place for rest and refreshment, but it must be always 
 with a keen outlook for possible flankings or surprises from the rear. The meu, unless 
 posted for that purpose, left care-taking to their officers, and enjoyed their ease. 
 
 HEN the day’s march, was ended and camp had been pitched in a 
 pleasant grove, at times when the enemy was remote enough to 
 dispel all ideas of danger, there was much pleasure in the soldier’s 
 evening meal; but when in close neighborhood to the foe, cere¬ 
 mony was a thing unthought of, and the whistling bullets and 
 shrieking shells made supper a very brief and urgent indulgence. 
 It was a matter of good fortune if the men were able to finish 
 the meal at all, at such times, whether in the advance or in the 
 reserve; for often a charge from the enemy would cause a sudden scattering and abandon¬ 
 ment of food, mess-kettles, 
 coffee pots, etc. And the tri¬ 
 umphant Johnnies never 
 ignored the most frugal meal, 
 but made immediate appropri¬ 
 ation of all food and camp- 
 conveniences that came in 
 their way. 
 
 The cook’s position in 
 preparing a meal was not an 
 enviable one, and his consid¬ 
 eration of personal safety were 
 often a source of amusement 
 to the soldiers. When the 
 battle became warm he would 
 nervously gather brush and 
 fence-rails for the fire, but 
 keep an anxious look-out to¬ 
 ward the enemy, and was ready 
 at the sound of a shell to dart 
 to the rear or jump behind 
 some friendly rock or tree. 
 
 Perhaps after much perturba¬ 
 tion a fire would be started, and 
 then would begin an anxious 
 search for water. When this 
 was found, coffee and bean 
 soup would be made, and dis¬ 
 tributed ; then the men, with 
 cup in hand, would seek cover 
 behind trees or under the lee 
 of breastworks, and there 
 
 munch the hard-tack and enjoy the soup and coffee in comparative safety. When the meal 
 was finished the old pack-mules would be brought forward, and without the formality of wash¬ 
 ing, pots and kettles would he made secure to them and then would be sent to the rear. 
 
 The scenes of hasty suppers were less frequent at the reserve line than in the advance, 
 of course, but when they did take place they were the more lively from being unexpected. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE PRESIDENT’S REVIEW. 
 
 URING the winter and spring of 1863 the Army of the Potomac 
 was camped on the north bank of the Rappahannock River, oppo¬ 
 site the town of Fredericksburg. It had to all appearances recovered 
 from the disastrous battle of the previous December, when, under 
 the leadership of Gen. Burnside, it had attempted to drive the 
 Confederates from their strongly fortified position on the south bank 
 of the stream. Gen. Hooker had since succeeded to the command; 
 under him the morale and discipline had improved, and in April 
 of ’63 the army was in better condition to assume the offensive 
 than it had been at any previous time. It had been reorganized, and the different corps under 
 their able commanders were ready to advance upon the enemy on receiving orders. 
 
 It was announced early in April that President Lincoln would soon review the army, 
 and great preparations were made for this important event. A spirit of rivalry arose among 
 the commanders of corps and divisions as to how their men should appear; and brigadiers 
 and colonels of regiments and captains of companies and the rank and file joined in the 
 strife. Clothes were brushed and repaired, shoes polished, brasses brightened, and white gloves 
 were received with great satisfaction to lend finish to the uniforms. 
 
 All desirable preparations had been made, when word came that President Lincoln had 
 arrived at Gen. Hooker’s headquarters near Falmouth, and that he would review the whole 
 army on the following day. The soldiers fell asleep full of anxious expectancy, and at dawn 
 the camps were astir with busy preparations. Breakfast was hurriedly disposed of, and by 
 eight o’clock everything was in readiness for the march to the parade-ground. 
 
 This was a level stretch of country several miles in extent, north of the town of Fal¬ 
 mouth and in direct sight of the enemy’s camp : and towards it as a common center columns 
 of infantry marched slowly along. Mounted officers preceded them, and the men who came 
 under my notice trotted along in route-step, chatting gaily and making comments on the 
 events of the day. Bodies of cavalry, with bright colors and fluttering guidons, wound slowly 
 over the rolling hills, and here and there batteries of artillery lumbered along. The can- 
 noniers sat with folded arms upon the ammunition boxes, consciously proud of the splendid 
 appearance of their guns. 
 
 When I reached the reviewing ground a wonderful sight was presented. Seventy 
 thousand troops of all arms were drawn up in long lines, and under the soft grey light of an 
 April day formed a picture that I shall never forget. The President soon arrived, and, after 
 passing up and down between the lines, was escorted by Gen. Hooker and staff to a position on 
 a gentle slope near an apple orchard, where he awaited the movements of the troops. 
 
 I placed myself where I could see Mr. Lincoln to advantage. He was very tall and 
 his horse being rather small his feet appeared to almost touch the ground; his black 
 frock coat and high “ stove-pipe ” hat seemed in strange keeping with the soldiers’ uniforms, 
 and his pale, anxious face in great contrast to the thousands of sun-burned ones about him. 
 From the position he had taken, the whole body of troops could be seen at once, and his 
 kind face lit up with pleasure from time to time at the great picture before him. It was a 
 
 61 
 
62 
 
 The President’s Review. 
 
 beautiful sight to see the great army stretched for miles across the gently undulating hills, 
 waiting for orders to march in review; flags and guidons innumerable fluttered in the bieeze, 
 and mounted officers could be seen dashing about in all directions, engaged in giving orders. 
 
 But the signal to march (a cannon-shot) was given at last, and the head of the column, 
 preceded by the commander-in-chief and staff, appeared in sight, moving to the sound of the 
 headquarters band. Crowds of spectators, cpmposed of civilians from Washington, officers wives 
 and friends, sutlers, wagoners, officers’ servants, and those detached from duty, were ranged 
 in lines and kept in position by Rush’s Lancers as the column passed through. The infantry, 
 marching in “ company front,” presented a magnificent appearance. They were bronzed and 
 hardy-looking, and marched with mechanical precision; and for hours the men poured by, 
 under the critical eyes of the President and the General in command. The President was 
 again and again saluted and made pleasing acknowledgment by the raising of his hat. As 
 each corps commander passed the reviewing-stand, he would wheel to the right and with his 
 staff fall in behind the President. 
 
 Not the least interesting feature of the review was the tattered and smoked battle-flags; 
 they were carried in nearly every instance by a splendid specimen of the American soldier, 
 who seemed conscious of his precious burden. 
 
 The cavalry corps, under command of General Pleasanton, followed the infantry, and 
 were a grand sight as they too marched in company front. The bright trappings of the men 
 and horses, the gay regimental flags and guidons, gave a brilliancy and color that the infantry 
 did not have, and the animated movements of the horses, with the blare of bugles and noise 
 of tramping were sights and sounds not easily forgotten. The artillery came next, with heavy 
 rumbling sound, nearly two hundred guns passing by; both men and officers were in the 
 best of condition and the batteries were finely horsed. 
 
 When a regiment had passed the point of review, it hurried off in “ double-quick ” 
 that the progress of succeeding troops should not be impeded; the artillery also made way 
 at a trot, and by noon the last of the long columns that had formed the grand pageant could 
 be seen disappearing over the hills in various directions. None were left but a few camp- 
 followers and idlers, who gathered in groups and discussed the day’s exciting scenes. The 
 President rode through the camps in the afternoon, accompanied by Gen. Hooker and staff, 
 and great enthusiasm was manifested among the soldiers. In the evening a reception was 
 held at the General’s headquarters, and the President returned to Washington the next morn¬ 
 ing, after expressing great admiration for the splendid array which had passed before him. 
 
XVII. 
 
 COFFEE COOLERS. 
 
 HE absurd names that were given to individuals and things dur- 
 ing the war were legion, but none of them caused more queries 
 from those out of the Service than the one which gives title to 
 our chapter and the picture of the thing itself “Under the Bank.” 
 If I were called upon to define the name “ Coffee Cooler,” I 
 should say: He belonged to the genus tramp , shirked all work, 
 avoided all danger, and could invariably be found where duty 
 did not call; and yet, when conflict was ended, he “ could a 
 tale unfold ” that would make one believe that shot and shell possessed no terrors for him, 
 and that in the foremost line of action he had struggled fearlessly forward to victory. 
 
 During the winter he became an invalid; carrying water and cutting wood were duties 
 left to his comrades, and under the doctor’s care frequent draughts of “ whiskey and quinine ” 
 were most acceptable. 
 
 In the spring, however, he burst forth like a butterfly from its cocoon, and, if not 
 able to sip real nectar from the flowers, stood in readiness to devour all luxuries of the sea¬ 
 son that might come within his reach. And his spirits were most buoyant, for he knew that 
 the danger of the coming campaign awaited not him,—only the brave boys in the front. It 
 was his policy to seem eager to advance into action; but no comrade ever saw him in a battle; 
 and he bore no scars, save the sting of bees that he had received in robbing a hive of its 
 stores. He would boast of his bravery like Falstaff; but when artillery rumbled his utter¬ 
 ances ceased, and as the column closed up he became much agitated. When .the steps of 
 the brave men quicken at the cheering words of the officers, and they shift their loads as if 
 they had suddenly become lighter, then the “coffee cooler” becomes at once much afflicted. 
 He is overcome with an unquenchable thirst, and in spite of the sergeant’s protest stops at 
 every spring to drink. Suddenly his shoes hurt his feet, and he limps painfully along, 
 warily watching his chance to slip away unnoticed. After a time he drops groaning by the 
 roadside, and after removing his shoes, searches with apparent carefulness for a stone-bruise 
 or other injury; but as his regiment disappears over the hill, he hurriedly puts on his shoes 
 and walks without difficulty across the fields to a cosy farm-house which his quick eye had 
 seen before dropping out of the line. 
 
 The case of one such army tramp came to my notice, and I learned that after reaching 
 the farm house he worked upon the sympathies of the people who lived there until he was 
 well fed and his haversack stored with the best the larder contained. Thus feasted and sup¬ 
 plied he sallied forth and soon fell in with kindred spirits—skulkers from commands. They 
 immediately joined forces and sought the seclusion of a neighboring wood, where they made 
 arrangements for a feast. Two of the party were sent to capture chickens and anything else 
 the country afforded, while the rest set to work gathering wood to make a fire. The fragrant 
 odor of coffee soon gave evidence that they had been successful. (It was a “cold day” when 
 they did not have at least some ground coffee in their haversacks, and the fact that when 
 caught these fellows were nearly always gathered about a steaming pot of the grateful bever¬ 
 age, gave them their nick-name of “ Coffee Coolers.”) Presently the foragers returned on the 
 double-quick, laden with chickens, sweet potatoes and green corn. The chickens were soon 
 
 65 
 
66 
 
 Coffer Coolers. 
 
 picked and cooked, the corn and potatoes roasted, and the hnngry shirkers devoured them 
 with the zest and merriment of a royal banquet. Then followed a smoke, and the burning 
 brand was passed from pipe to pipe amid many jokes. The evening was spent in jollity, and 
 the distant sound of musketry caused but little thought of their falling comrades at the front. 
 The camp-fire in time died down, and our heroes wrapped the drapery of their blankets about 
 them and lay down to pleasant dreams. 
 
 Just at daylight, however, the sleeping party were suddenly lighted upon by the pro¬ 
 vost-guard, who without ceremony suddenly aroused them with the butts of their muskets. 
 Numerous and elaborate were the excuses offered; but none availed them, and they were 
 turned over to the tender mercies of the officer of the guard, who already had a hundred 
 stragglers in charge that he had gathered within an hour. Formed in column, they were all 
 marched to the provost-marshal, and from him were distributed to their several commands. 
 That “the way of the transgressor is hard” was now illustrated; for amid the jeers of com¬ 
 rades the “ coffee coolers ” were subjected to various punishment. Some were bucked and 
 gagged; some compelled to carry logs on the shoulders for hours in the sun, and others 
 were placed in the extreme front line of battle. 
 
 I remember an instance where thousands of stragglers were scattered for miles through 
 woods during a great battle. Orders were sent to the provost-marshal to sweep the country 
 in the rear and force every man back to his regiment. A brigade of infantry was taken from 
 the trenches in front, and marched about three miles to the rear, where it was stretched across 
 country in open order with a frontage of about one mile. Advancing, they gathered in all 
 delinquents, and deaf to all entreaties marched them forward. When the line halted and the 
 catch was counted, there were found to be about three thousand of these skulkers. Men who 
 were detailed to this service sought not the responsibility, for the pleading of the really sick, 
 and the pitiful efforts of the frightened to justify their absence, appealed to sympathy and 
 fellow-feeling. Many declared that they would rather remain under hottest fire than be 
 detailed to such duty. 
 
 After all, the pleasure gained by the straggling “ coffee coolers ” scarcely compensated 
 for the anxiety experienced and the penalties paid. Had they held firmly to the flag, their 
 safety would have been as fully insured and they would have enjoyed the pleasant conscious¬ 
 ness of duty done. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 CAVALRY ESCORTS, ORDERLIES, AND FORAGERS. 
 
 O PLACE in the vicinity of headquarters had more of life and 
 brightness than the camp of the cavalry escorts. It was usually 
 pitched in the nearest woods, where both men and animals might 
 be protected from the hottest rays of the sun. The little shel¬ 
 ter-tents were scattered about in picturesque confusion, and groups 
 of horses could be seen picketed where the shade was most 
 dense. The camp was a busy one during the day, everyone 
 seeming to have important work to attend to. Some would be 
 bustling about cleaning the horses, others would be occupied in 
 repairing saddles and equipments; while a short distance away a squad would be engaged in 
 saber exercise. I never tired of looking at this drill, and often wondered, as I watched the 
 glistening swords, how they could be handled in such unison of action. 
 
 Other duties fell to the cavalry escort while in camp, such as going off to guard am¬ 
 munition or supply trains from depots to the army, being sent with dispatches to distant 
 headquarters, or being detached as orderlies to accompany officers on special duties. In active 
 service the duty was more severe and dangerous, the orderlies being often sent into the 
 thickest of the fight; but, on the whole, the duty at headquarters was not objected to,—on 
 preferred to the life with the main cavalry command. 
 
 URING' a campaign there was often much delay in getting food 
 for the cavalry horses from the rear. Grass alone when obtain¬ 
 able was not nutritious enough to keep them in good working 
 order, and in the event of a railroad bridge being burned by 
 guerillas, or a loaded wagon-train being captured by bushwhackers, 
 cavalrymen would be compelled to resort to extreme measures to 
 sustain their horses. The country would be scoured in all direc¬ 
 tions, and barns and corncribs emptied in short order, the sup¬ 
 plies loaded upon wagons and brought into camp. Groups of 
 horsemen could often be seen riding across country with bundles 
 of hay or bags of corn slung across their saddles. Sometimes receipts for the produce taken 
 would be given; but in war “ necessity knows no law,” and in urgent circumstances no cere¬ 
 mony was observed. 
 
 Foraging parties were often attacked by the enemy with a hope of securing supplies, 
 and hot fights would ensue, for a soldier never loosened his grip on bounties except under 
 compulsion. In danger, the loaded wagons would be hurried towards camp, the guards and 
 foragers posting themselves in flank and rear of the train. 
 
 Men, like horses, were often short of rations, and pigs, poultry and small game were 
 never ignored. They often made a ludicrous appearance on the return to camp, with the 
 
 69 
 
 the contrary, it was often 
 

 yo Cavalry Escorts, Orderlies, and Foragers. 
 
 bound chickens squawking and struggling to get loose, and the ducks quacking lustily. A 
 stone jar of honey often found a place on the saddle, and was a great treat at the mess. 
 Discipline was lax on these expeditions, and great mirth prevailed with such fun as boys 
 or, what is the same thing, soldiers let loose—could find on the road. Those who were 
 detailed to the foraging parties were much envied by the less fortunate ones who were kept 
 at regular duties. 
 
XIX. 
 
 RE-FORMING THE LINE. 
 
 IRCUMSTANCES afforded me a fine opportunity of wat 
 
 shelter from the opposing artillery fire until the outcome of the contemplated move could be 
 determined. A body of infantry skirmishers covered the front, and at the word “Forward!” 
 advanced and sent a responsive fire to every puff of smoke from the enemy’s skirmish line. 
 The latter fell rapidly back toward the main position in a sunken road on the ridge. The 
 main body of the Union forces formed in three lines, and moved slowly forward. The battle- 
 worn and tattered flags floated in the sunshine, and the clanking accoutrements, rustling and 
 tramping feet, and officers’ voices in command, mingled in one deep, strange sound, compar¬ 
 able only to the continuous roar of sea-surf at an incoming tide. 
 
 As soon as the enemy’s main line caught sight of our advancing host it gave greeting 
 with a withering artillery fire ; solid shot and shell ploughed lanes through the living mass. 
 The scattering fragments of the shells that burst above the heads of our men did more exe¬ 
 cution than if they had exploded on the ground, and every solid shot, fired with a ricochet, 
 bounded like a baseball, sending up a cloud of dust wherever it struck and sweeping every 
 thing in its course to destruction. Despite this deadly work, how grandly our line advanced, 
 and how calmly they closed up the gaps and moved on, leaving a blue trail of the fallen 
 dead behind them ! 
 
 But the enemy’s infantry fire soon became so severe that our advance line began to 
 waver and show broken places. Looking through my field-glass I could see the mounted 
 officers galloping up and down behind the troops, and the line-officers engaged in steadying 
 the men as the showers of bullets swept across the ground in their front. In examining the 
 enemy’s position on the crest of the hill I could see their battle-flags quite plainly through 
 the smoke; and, just appearing above the edge of a sunken road seemed to be a line of 
 heads. Puffs of smoke played along them, varying at intervals in volume. Musketry fire 
 could be plainly heard, the sound rising and falling from a terrific roar to a scattering fire. 
 
 But soon a murderous crashing volley told of reinforcement to the enemy’s line, and 
 our own men halted and took advantage of the slight protection of a ridge of ground to 
 regain their formation. Then came the order to advance again, and through smoke and an 
 avalanche of fire they dashed defiantly up the ridge' and poured a volley into the faces of 
 the enemy, and then fired steadily at will. 
 
 Through my glass I soon saw hundreds of wounded men coming to the rear, some 
 limping alone, others moving in groups, but all making for the same quarter, where they 
 hoped to find relief. I saw also that our own lines began to lessen and great gaps appear. 
 The Confederates had done deadly work, and off to the right of our forces several of their 
 
 73 
 
 minutely the preparations of the Union army previous to the 
 battle of Antietam, also the grand advance and the terrible 
 struggle of those brave men who dashed defiantly forward into 
 a volcano of Southern fire. 
 
 The infantry was first ordered forward, and under the 
 shelter of the trees of a wooded ridge of ground the men were 
 formed in lines. The artillery was then posted in advanta¬ 
 geous positions to cover the advance; while the cavalry found 
 
74 
 
 Re-Forming the Line. 
 
 batteries had secured an enfilading fire along our front. As the grain bows before the scythe, 
 so were our men in front felled to earth by the bursting shells sent at this murderous angle. 
 
 Scanning the enemy’s front near the batteries, I saw a body of our infantry posted 
 behind a rail-fence, and from this position pouring a destructive flanking fire in return. I 
 could see the wounded hurried back, and here and there a straggling grey Reb retiring from 
 rock to rock or wisely making a screen of the bushes. 
 
 But our line of battle soon retired from its advance, and fell sullenly back to a retired 
 position where they could halt and re-form. “ Where is that gallant army,” I asked myself, 
 “ that but one short hour ago dashed so fearlessly into action ? ” But a glance across the 
 field in front of the enemy’s line told the sad story, for there lay brave men stretched in 
 hundreds, sleeping their long last sleep; and many wounded had gone to the rear, some on 
 foot who were able to walk, and those who were disabled had been taken in the ambulances. 
 I looked at the sadly broken lines of the men who remained, with the thought that they 
 would falter from further duty; but when I saw the blackened, resolute faces, and the quick, 
 firm steps as they closed up the line, I felt that they possessed more than bravery — the sol¬ 
 dier’s steady courage. 
 
 Reinforcements soon appeared, and our men, refreshed, started forward with renewed 
 determination. The line breasted the hill once more, and with a rush dashed upon the enemy’s 
 front, covering the last few hundred yards at a double-quick, and halting but an instant to 
 discharge a volley in the face of the foe. Then the bayonets came into savage action, sweep¬ 
 ing the enemy before them, broken and scattered. Those who escaped rushed back through 
 an orchard in the rear, and, taking shelter behind some farm-houses and out-buildings, kept 
 up a dropping fire on our troops: but it availed nothing, as the enemy’s center had been 
 broken, and they fell back in confusion. 
 
 The whole of this battle was most gallantly and stubbornly contested on both sides, 
 and after many bitter conflicts seemed to end as a stand-off; yet it sufficed for its main pur¬ 
 pose, to check and turn back the daring Lee and his brave army from Pennsylvania and 
 the North. The special point of interest for us in the present chapter is “The Halt for 
 Re-forming the Line.” 
 


XX. 
 
 RECONNOITERING. 
 
 T MAY seem, to those who have only read of battles, a simple 
 matter to find the position of an opposing army; but those prac¬ 
 tically familiar with military tactics know that it is a most diffi¬ 
 cult thing to determine, so that an advance may be properly made 
 against it. If the enemy are stationed in a country with which their 
 
 own troops are alone familiar, the friendship of the residents (who, 
 as voluntary spies, bring them reliable information) is invaluable. 
 An advancing body can judge only from inspection, and a recon¬ 
 
 naissance in force is often a necessity. 
 
 I took part in a reconnaissance in the June of ’63, during the Gettysburg campaign, 
 and have a most vivid recollection of the characteristics of the movement. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac, under command of Gen. Hooker, had marched from its 
 position near Fredericksburg and was encamped near the town of Aldio, watching the move¬ 
 ments of Lee’s army, which had left Fredericksburg and was crossing the Blue Ridge Moun¬ 
 tains to the Shenandoah Valley on its way to another invasion of Pennsylvania. The enemy’s 
 cavalry, commanded by Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, were posted as a screen, east of the Blue Ridge 
 Mountains in the Loudon Valley. They were quite active, and in a series of fights had given 
 our cavalry many a hard scrimmage. 
 
 It became necessary to have more information of the enemy’s plans than the scouts 
 could gather, and a reconnaissance in force was determined upon. Gen. Pleasonton, command¬ 
 ing our cavalry, was ordered to advance upon the opposing cavalry forces and drive them back 
 until their infantry supports were uncovered. A division of infantry was detailed to assist in 
 the movement, and one morning at daylight the advance started from Aldio. We took the 
 road towards Ashby’s Gap, the cavalry deploying and advancing slowly, and after a march of 
 several miles it came upon the enemy’s cavalry force, which was posted behind stone fences 
 and heavy woods on both sides of a road in which a section of artillery was also placed. 
 
 A heavy line of our infantry skirmishers advanced upon them, and we shelled them vigor¬ 
 ously with a light battery which we had posted on the pike. They fell back slowly, giving 
 up the point of vantage reluctantly. They were intimidated at the sight of our infantry, who 
 would have considered it little more than pleasant exercise to attack cavalry in such a country. 
 
 I followed the troops as well as I could, while keeping to high ground as much as 
 possible so as to see the varied incidents of interest. I remember watching an advancing 
 regiment of Union cavalry which was evidently preparing a trap for the enemy. They were 
 in regular line-of-battle; and behind them, screened from the enemy’s view, was a gun from a 
 light battery. The intention was to get near enough to make the masked gun effective before 
 the enemy could discover the trick. 
 
 From my position on a hill I could with a glass see every move of the opposing lines. 
 The enemy was posted on the edge of a distant wood, with skirmishers scattered along the 
 stone fence in front. Our regiment approached slowly through an open field, unconscious of 
 danger, when suddenly a body of Confederate cavalry dashed out of the woods in column 
 formation. Yelling like Indians, they made for a direct attack, and to all appearance the 
 Union chance of repulse was slight; but when they were within about two hundred yards of 
 
 77 
 
Reconnoitering. 
 
 78 
 
 our lines, our cavalry in front of the “twelve-pounder” wheeled to right and left, the gun 
 was quickly unlimbered, and a double charge of canister poured into the exultant Rebs. In 
 an instant, those who did not fall scattered like a flock of birds before a blind, and the Union 
 line in rapid advance soon drove them towards Ashby’s Gap in their rear. 
 
 During the advance the long line of cavalry skirmishers in the front moved slowly 
 over the country, seeking cover behind fences and buildings whenever possible, firing at every¬ 
 thing visible along the enemy’s line. The main body of the Union cavalry, several thousand 
 strong, followed closely, deploying on both sides of the main road, on which artillery moved. 
 The infantry kept close behind, ready at any moment to reinforce a weak point. A rattling 
 fire was kept up all day, until the enemy made a stand at the foot of the mountain at 
 Ashby’s Gap. Just before sundown a charge was made which convinced the Rebs that our 
 cavalry was in the best of condition. A band of music was posted on a hill, and to the in¬ 
 spiring notes of “ Yankee Doodle ” our whole line moved forward. With drawn sabers they 
 dashed upon the enemy and forced them back into the Gap, where was posted a corps of 
 infantry, ready to receive the Union line. So strong was this force, that no further attack 
 was made. The Union troops camped on the field, attended to the wounded, and gathered 
 up the spoils of the running fight at leisure. 
 
 The next morning just at daylight, a retrograde movement was begun, and the Union 
 troops fell slowly back toward the main camp at Aldio. The enemy followed closely, pressing 
 our rear at every opportunity, and shelling our rear-guard at every possible point. I halted 
 at a village on our route and saw the column pass by. Looking down the main street toward 
 the enemy I saw a section of one of our batteries posted on the road firing back at the advanc¬ 
 ing foe, while the main body of our mounted force passed slowly along. Many wounded men 
 were mounted in the column, and the ambulances were full of the more helpless ones. One 
 cavalryman had a dead comrade hanging over the saddle, conveying him to where he could 
 pay him the last tribute of a Christian burial. 
 
 Toward evening the Union force arrived at the old camp again, and the enemy thought 
 it advisable to withdraw toward their main body. 
 
 The reconnaissance had satisfied Gen. Hooker that the passes of the mountains were 
 occupied by infantry, and that the enemy’s main body were bound for Pennsylvania. This 
 decided his next move, and in a few days the whole army was marching up the Loudon Valley 
 toward the Potomac River. They crossed at Edward’s Ferry, and from that point advanced 
 to gain the glorious victory of Gettysburg. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENT. 
 
 HEN time shall have made the history of the great war complete, people 
 who read the records will fail to appreciate how much historians will 
 be indebted to the newspaper correspondents. Leading journals sent 
 talented men to the front, some of the larger ones having several cor¬ 
 respondents with each army in the field. I remember one instance 
 where there was a correspondent with each corps, and a manager at 
 the general headquarters whose duty it was to supervise the collection 
 of news. Each correspondent was furnished with a good saddle-horse, 
 to facilitate quick movement from point to point. Their duties were 
 to gather all facts, rumors and matters of interest pertaining to army life, to keep informed of 
 all movements, and during a battle to push well to the front to obtain material for graphic 
 descriptions. During the winter a correspondent’s work was easily accomplished; he gathered 
 what information he could of contemplated movements, picked up camp-gossip and incidents, 
 and reported the deaths of soldiers who died in hospitals. But when the spring note of 
 preparation sounded for the army to gird itself up and prepare for a coming campaign, the 
 correspondent as well as the soldier was aroused into active duty. 
 
 I had found in winter camp a pleasant comrade, who was an army correspondent for 
 one of the New York papers, and we resolved that when the army should be ordered to move, 
 we would together—for a time at least—follow its fortunes. When orders were finally given, 
 they were at short notice, we learning only at sundown that camp was to be broken the 
 next morning; but we were at headquarters by daybreak, and in the saddle for the march. 
 
 The columns moved along the roads to the south, and the wagon-trains were parked 
 in long lines near their old camp-ground, ready to start as soon as the way was cleared. My 
 comrade and I hurried forward along the side of the column, and soon reached the head of the 
 line. We found the main body of cavalry moving rapidly after the advance guard, who were 
 approaching a ridge on the crest of'which the enemy were known to be posted in full force. 
 Leaving the main road, we kept forward; but on high ground as much as possible, to obtain 
 view of all that took place. As we were wondering just when hostilities would commence, a 
 cannon boomed and a shell whizzed over the heads of a cavalry squadron that was moving 
 slowly to the front. The small cloud of light smoke that drifted from a hilltop in the dis¬ 
 tance defined the enemy’s position. 
 
 Two light batteries soon came galloping from our rear, took position on a hill, and 
 unlimbered. The guns were quickly sighted and at the word “Fire!” two shells were sent 
 toward the enemy, who by this time could be plainly seen on a distant knoll. One burst in 
 the air, without destruction, but a puff of smoke among the enemy’s guns and the muffled 
 report that followed proved that the other was well placed. The enemy, however, soon returned 
 sharp fire, and the shells came so suggestively close that we moved to the right along the 
 ridges, where we could watch the battle with comparative safety. Soon a body of Union cav¬ 
 alry skirmishers, followed by heavy mounted columns, advanced across the level bottom-lands 
 toward the Rebs. We adjusted glasses and watched with intense interest the game of war 
 that was being enacted at our very feet. The enemy opened severe musketry fire from bushes 
 along the ridge, and our skirmishers halted and waited for the main line, which was advanc- 
 
 81 
 
82 
 
 The Newspaper Correspondent. 
 
 ing at a trot, evidently determined to make a bold dash at the foe; but they received a vol 
 ley of shell from the distant battery on the hill, and we shuddered as the great lnl ™ b ^ r ° 
 men and horses fell. Nothing daunted, those not disabled galloped up the hill and drove 
 from the underbrush a swarm of grey coats. Meanwhile the Union infantry had deployed 
 and made ready for an advance on the enemy’s main position ; and simultaneously the whole 
 line moved forward and was soon heavily engaged. In the end, the ground was left m pos- 
 session of the Union forces. 
 
 Now the anxious work of my friend began. We mounted our horses and started for 
 the field-hospitals, where, by making himself known, he was able to obtain a list of names 
 of the wounded as they were brought from the field. Then, hurrying to the front, we rode 
 over the battle-ground, where many items of interest were obtained. Detailed parties for 
 burying the dead were next visited and names secured of the killed, with details for classified 
 lists. We found them already at work disposing of the silent figures; the old and the young 
 men lay together in the trenches. Sickened at the ghastly sights, and faint from long fasting, 
 we sought our haversacks, and, buying each a cup of coffee from a soldier, disposed of our 
 not over-plentiful repast. 
 
 Making haste then to temporary headquarters in a grove, my newspaper friend sat 
 down upon a stump to write an account of the battle. He interviewed as many as possible 
 of the officers and men who had taken part in the engagement, and, industriously writing all 
 through the evening by the light of a camp-fire in front of the general’s tent, he finished his 
 story by midnight. I separated from him at this time; but, although he had been at it 
 since daybreak, his work was not done, for he mounted his horse and visited the hospitals to 
 obtain a final checking of his lists of the names of the dead and wounded. This work was 
 completed by two o’clock in the morning, when he made his way through the sleeping army 
 to deliver his material to the manager, to be forwarded to the home-office by special messenger. 
 
 A correspondent was often compelled to carry his own despatches to the nearest post 
 or telegraph station, and would ride at break-neck speed to be the first to deliver the intelli¬ 
 gence and “ get a beat ” on other correspondents. Duty often took them through dangerous 
 guerrilla country, and on many occasions they barely escaped. Quite a number of the brave, 
 bright fellows lost their lives on the battle-field, others returned home with shattered health, 
 and a large number were captured and confined in Southern prisons. The smoothly-written, 
 crisp columns that appeared in the newspapers were no criterion of the dangers that their 
 writers were exposed to; and while tributes are paid to gallant leaders and courageous sol¬ 
 diers, the bravery and endurance of the newspaper correspondents should not be forgotten, nor 
 
 their work be unappreciated. For 
 est of the nation hung upon 
 the official documents and 
 material of the history 
 found in the work done 
 and heroic soldiers 
 
 four long years the feverish inter- 
 their words, and, aside from 
 reports, the most valuable 
 of those times is to be 
 by these alert, hardy 
 of the pen. 
 
 Writing it Up. 
 
- --— -- - . ■ . ' _ _ _ , _' 
 

 XXII. 
 
 UNBRIDGED RIVERS. 
 
 HILE the main Union armies were always furnished with pontoon bridges 
 for rivers, difficulties were often met which made these time-savers un¬ 
 available. Sometimes the roads approaching the river could not be 
 passed by vehicles like the pontoon wagons, and occasionally the 
 streams along the line of march would be too many for their use. In 
 such instances fording became inevitable; but it had to be cautiously 
 approached. Once I had been riding with the cavalry advance, and, 
 after having been fired upon by bushwhackers and meeting several 
 other adventures, we reached a hill overlooking a stream with wooded 
 borders that had to be crossed. The enemy was posted on the low banks opposite us, and 
 the ominous line of yellow clay breastworks, which “ the boys ” learned to know so well, gave 
 evidence of fortification. It ran along the bank and through the low growth of brush, which 
 was quite thick in places, and afforded protection to their skillful sharp-shooters, whose keen 
 aim reached some of our men as soon as they appeared in the open space in the region of 
 the ford. First, three companies of our men dismounted, pushed forward toward the river, 
 and lay down behind the bank of an abandoned canal. From this point they kept up a sharp 
 carbine-fire on the enemy’s works, so that it was unsafe for the Johnnies to show their heads 
 Watching the enemy’s operations through a glass, I saw a group of mounted officers 
 behind an old farm-house, a short distance above the fording-place on the other side, despatch¬ 
 ing messengers to the main body, half a mile back from the river. Several had made safe 
 passage, running the gauntlet of our skirmish-fire at full speed, when two officers dashed into 
 sight from behind the house and made for the rear. One was mounted on a grey horse and 
 the other on a bay. Side by side they raced, with bodies bowed down on the necks of their 
 
 flying horses, and each moment of 
 life seemed a marvel as they es¬ 
 caped the shots of the Union car¬ 
 bines, fired by plainsmen long 
 experienced in fighting Indians. 
 Suddenly the officer on the grey 
 horse collapsed, fell from his saddle 
 and quicker than thought was laid 
 out flat on his back, dead : his arms 
 close to his side, his cap and saber 
 near him in the yellow road. His 
 companion deftly slackened speed 
 and caught the grey horse by the 
 bridle, and then, lying close, rode 
 rapidly on to a place of safety. 
 He straightened up in the saddle as he disappeared into the wood, and in almost a moment 
 of time a section of battery dashed out from the same place and opened a revengeful fire, as 
 if to recompense the death of a favorite officer. A Union battery scon sent and maintained 
 a spirited responsive fire. 
 
 85 
 
86 
 
 Unbridged Rivers. 
 
 But now came the forming of Union cavalry under the cover of woods on our side of 
 the stream. Columns of them moved into the open, and made straight for the ford, in the 
 midst of carbine-fire from dismounted Rebs on the opposite bank, and lively shell from the 
 battery on the edge of the woods beyond them. Many men and horses sank as shells exploded 
 and bullets took effect, on the hither bank and in the water, but the main body ploughed on 
 through the river, causing the spray to fly in all directions, and then steadily pushed up the 
 farther bank, a formidable mass of mounted men. They were soon face to face with those 
 who manned the breastworks, and drove them toward the rear. Our cavalrymen pursued, and 
 captured many prisoners. The Rebs in the wood beyond retreated as soon as they saw the 
 ford carried, and our cavalry pursued in hot haste. 
 
 The head of our infantry column now appeared. I rode down to the bank and laughed 
 heartily at the grotesque appearance of the troops, most of whom had taken off their trousers 
 to make the passage of the deep stream; and, holding clothing, guns and cartridge-boxes on 
 their heads, breasted a current which almost swept them off their feet. Some were in fact 
 carried down, but were rescued by a line of cavalry posted below for that purpose. Despite 
 all misfortunes, the men seemed to enjoy this novel experience, and chatted merrily and 
 laughed loudly when a comrade slipped on the rocky bottom and drifted down stream. The 
 cavalrymen rescued the “dough-boys” (as they deridingly called the infantrymen) amid shouts 
 of laughter, and dragged them one by one to a place of safety. 
 
 When the infantrymen regained footing on solid ground, they made a ridiculous appear¬ 
 ance as they tried to pull their clothing over their shivering legs. Those who had not taken 
 the trouble to prepare were as bedraggled as so many “ drowned rats,” and sought in vain 
 to wring the water from their uniforms. I have often recalled the comical scenes of this inci¬ 
 dent, and without much imagination I hear again the peals of laughter along the column ;— 
 so did tragedy and comedy tread close on each other’s heels. 
 
ms#mm 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE “BUMMER.’ 
 
 HIS characteristic name was peculiar to the Western armies, and par¬ 
 ticularly to the men of Sherman’s force who left Chattanooga in the 
 spring of 1864 on that magnificent and triumphal march to Atlanta 
 and the sea. The genus “bummer” was not perfectly developed 
 until Atlanta was deserted and the march into the unknown coun¬ 
 try began. Then necessity, or “natural selection,” brought into 
 full existence these daring spirits, who swarmed in front and on the 
 flanks of the moving columns that swept with irresistible force 
 through Georgia and the Carolinas, spreading consternation through 
 the crumbling “ Confederacy.” The march proved that, when the shell was once penetrated, the 
 great Rebellion was without reserves of either men or material of war. The only apprehen¬ 
 sion of difficulty that Gen. Sherman seems to have entertained in this venture, was that sup¬ 
 plies might not be obtainable; but the country was rich in produce, and the organized 
 foraging parties nearly always returned laden with bounties for both men and beasts. In 
 obtaining these supplies, it was desired and ordered by Gen. Sherman that men should keep 
 within specified limits, and the greater portion of them did. Many, however, overstepped the 
 bounds, and their lawless and reckless conduct gave the name of “Bummer” to all foragers. 
 An officer could not be cognizant of all that occurred in a scattered command, but all possible 
 effort was made to prevent men from looting private property. Charges were made, however, 
 of robbery of family silver and other valuables. Mills, manufactories or stores of material 
 which might aid the Confederacy were to be invariably destroyed, and columns of smoke along 
 the line of march were significant of how well these orders had been executed. 
 
 There was little or no fighting to be done; the march was the main thing, and the 
 feeding of the multitude the one necessity. It is not strange, then, that out of the myriads 
 in a great army, which of course includes all sorts and conditions of men, there should be 
 many who, when the bands of discipline were a little relaxed, should take advantage of it, 
 and, whether intent on fun or on devilment, make- the most of their brief chances. Not a 
 few traveled ahead or alongside, independent of the army, so long as it was safe, and like 
 our friends the “coffee coolers” enjoyed a lively vacation from duty, showing devotion only 
 to booty. It was this class who did the real damage to private property. 
 
 Many of the bummers’ pranks were harmless and amusing. When on the march a 
 town was sighted, a rush forward would be made and a motley crowd of “ boys in blue ” 
 would clatter down the main street, some on foot, some on horseback, with guns prepared to 
 meet Wheeler’s or Hampton’s cavalry. Hooting and yelling like Indians, they would make 
 for the town-hall or court house, and, removing the secession flag from the staff on the roof, 
 would hoist the national colors. Then some wag would improvise a court, and sitting in the 
 judge’s chair presided with mock dignity while a delinquent bummer charged with some grave 
 offence would be dragged before him to receive sentence. At Milledgeville, Georgia, a mock 
 Legislature was convened, and the Ordinance of Secession of the State was repealed with great 
 solemnity. 
 
 On arriving at Savannah the bummer settled back into soldierly regulation again, and 
 for weeks experienced no excitement except the perils of the breastworks and trenches in rear 
 of the beleaguered town ; but when the enemy evacuated and retreated through South Caro- 
 
The Bummer. 
 
 90 
 
 lina he again appeared in full bloom, and, in front of our pursuing army, caused wide-spread 
 consternation. The capture of Charleston was but an incident of the march, and the army swept 
 again inland toward Columbia, on its way to join Grant in the siege at Petersburg. Supplies 
 were less plentiful in the Carolinas than in Georgia, but the bummers with renewed vigor set 
 to work to procure the best the country afforded. 
 
 Parties often appeared arrayed in grotesque costumes that had been confiscated from 
 
 country houses. One fellow appeared wearing a gingham sunbonnet; another, a military 
 costume of the war of 1812 ; and another was dressed in an old blue coat and cocked hat with 
 tarnished gold braid, and in his hand carried an old-fashioned saber that may have belonged 
 to one of Marion’s men. 
 
 But with the surrender of Gen. Johnston, the bummer’s occupation was gone; the rigid 
 lines of military discipline were again tightened about him and the happy-go-lucky days of 
 adventure must now become a memory. On to Washington the army tramped, and at the 
 grand review which terminated its existence, not one of the regular-stepping, bright-faced 
 troops suggested the reckless bummers of a few weeks before. All walked proudly erect as 
 they passed the reviewing stand, and cast longing glances at their grand old commanders. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 THE VIDETTE, 
 
 IFE on the outer lines was solitary and dangerous, and yet the 
 safety of the whole army often depended on the vigilance of the 
 posted videttes. I have watched them many times when they 
 were almost within touch of those of the opposing side, and did 
 not envy them their responsibility. In glancing along the line 
 I saw them seated like equestrian statues, but the slightest crack¬ 
 ling of brush or rustling of leaves would start them into life and 
 fill them with apprehensions of danger. Truly have the videttes 
 been called the “ eyes of the army.” 
 
 Never having been able to see the videttes except from a distance, I decided one day 
 to ride over to the outer line and gather what information I could of their duties and move¬ 
 ments. I rode forward and after passing various bodies of cavalry posted along the front of 
 the army, I came in sight of a position supposed to be held by the enemy. Looking across 
 a beautifully diversified country as far as the eye could reach, I saw a line of solitary horse¬ 
 men posted at intervals in the open ground. I took my glass to study a mounted figure who 
 had position on a road about half a mile distant. He sat gracefully upon his horse, grasping 
 with his right hand a cavalry carbine, the butt of which rested on his thigh, and with the 
 left he held the reins with easy freedom. His glance seemed directed toward the enemy, and 
 yet he sat as if in a reverie. What was the train of thought! Did memory take him back 
 to the old farm-house to which his brother was just guiding home the gentle cows, and his 
 kind old father waiting with pail in hand ready to take from them the rich yield of milk? 
 Perhaps visions of his silver-haired mother passed before him, as she prepared the evening 
 meal and faltered with a sigh at the vacant place at the table, where for long years she had 
 laid a plate for him; or, tenderer still, did visions flit before him of her with whom he lin¬ 
 gered to gain the last sweet promise, and recollections of her tender eyes wake the tears in 
 his ? 
 
 But now the horse began to move slowly to and fro, dropping his head to nibble the 
 luxurious grass along the fence, and the soldier roused himself as he discerned a cloud of 
 dust rising in the road that came from the wood. Curiosity waked me up, too, and touching 
 the spurs to my mare I rode over to the horseman and spoke to him. He nervously drew up 
 the idle reins and rode a short distance forward. I followed, and we soon saw something 
 moving forward from under the shadow of the trees ; and I was sure it was dressed in gray. My 
 comrade assured me, however, that a horseman would not advance so slowly. A moment more, 
 and we were able to distinguish a vehicle of some kind, drawn by a single animal, and at 
 last a farm-cart, drawn by a diminutive old gray mule and containing a family of negroes, 
 came fully to view. 
 
 Such a picturesque group I had seldom seen. Old “Uncle’s” head was covered with 
 an ancient gray slouch hat, and his black face was fringed with a snow-white beard, while 
 his old clothing was so patched that the original fabric was lost sight of. “Aunty” had a 
 pert turban, but poor clothing; and the pickaninnies were scantily covered with ragged slips 
 made of muslin. When within speaking distance of the vidette, the old man pulled his rope 
 lines and brought the little mule to a full stop. Doffing his hat he gave a low bow and 
 
 93 
 
94 
 
 The Vidette. 
 
 said “ Good-day, sail,” but looked timidly at the formidable figure in front of him who moved 
 forward to question him. We learned that he had taken advantage of the presence of the 
 “ Lincum sogers ” to escape from bondage with his family, and that he had been traveling 
 two days. When asked if he had seen any of the enemy’s troops, he answered, ‘‘ Oh yes, 
 mistah. Heaps o’ sogers back dah, about ten miles. Mistah Johnson’s men. I can’t tell how 
 many, mo’n I eber seed befo’. Calvery; de big guns on wheels; an’ lots o’ sogers dat 
 carries dem guns an’ dese yere tings wha’ yer sling ober yer back. Yes, infantry, dats wha’ 
 de call ’em. Dey was a right smart lot o’ men, too, an’ had flags an’ drums an’ mo’ wagons 
 dan I ever seed in all my bo’n days.” 
 
 The vidette asked him if he was sure those soldiers were not marching when he saw 
 them. “ Oh no, massa,” he replied, “ dey was all about de fields, cookin’ an’ eatin’ an’ sleepin’ 
 in de little white tents ; dey was movin’ bout in de camp pow’ful smart, but dey wasn't movin’ 
 on dis road when I lef ’ dem day befo’ yistiddy, I'm shuah ! ” 
 
 Directing the oddly fashioned and assorted outfit toward camp, where it would be taken 
 care of, our cavalryman moved toward the side of the road, dropped the reins on the horse’s 
 neck and allowed him to resume feeding. He then opened his haversack, the contents of 
 which had been long neglected, and made a meal of raw pork and hard-tack. He looked 
 regretfully at the remains of the three days’ rations, and saw that his supplies had diminished 
 more than prudence would dictate; but it seemed a soldier’s fate to devour supplies in advance 
 and then be compelled to suffer an involuntary fast. 
 
 The sudden sound of two carbine shots, however, caused my soldier friend to quickly 
 sling his haversack in place, and, seizing the reins and spurring his horse, he d'arted into the 
 road and looked anxiously for the cause. A cloud of dust rising in the distance roused his 
 suspicions, and he glanced anxiously to right and left as if to note any movement of the line 
 of our videttes. Soon two horsemen appeared on the road leading from the wood opposite, 
 and, moving out into the field, appeared to be in consultation. I began to think it time for 
 a non-combatant to move towards the rear; but I did not retire so far but that I could watch 
 movements with my glass. Soon, a few shots were heard and a well-defined line of the 
 enemy’s advance of cavalry came into view. The Union line of videttes opened fire, and then 
 reloaded and discharged their carbines continually as they fell back to the main body. Heavy 
 columns of the enemy’s cavalry debouched from the road, and the Confederates soon opened 
 fire with light batteries. 
 
 The fight had evidently begun, and our vidette and his comrades had vanished from 
 the front and were making the best possible resistance in the regiment to which they belonged. 
 
 The Refugees. 
 

XXV. 
 
 GOING INTO CAMP. 
 
 OW WELCOME was the news as it passed along the moving col¬ 
 umn that the day’s march was nearly finished, and that the tired 
 men would soon find rest in camp! Often they had marched 
 from daylight, taking only such intervals of rest as a blockaded 
 column allowed, or the half-hour’s halt at midday for dinner gave. 
 Lagging as their footsteps might have been, they would become 
 much animated as camping-ground was neared, and in anticipation 
 of the evening meal would step out of the column and confiscate 
 all fence-rails available. They made a ludicrous appearance as 
 they trudged along, with a gun on one shoulder and a fence-rail on the other. 
 
 I saw a column leave the road just at sunset, and as it marched along a ridge of high 
 ground the men and horses were cast in silhouette against the bright back-ground. I saw 
 different brigades march to allotted positions, and the work of pitching camp soon began. 
 Knapsacks and traps were unslung, and in a short time the hill-sides were covered with little 
 pup tents. The noise of axes—faint at first, but swelling into a muffled roar, in the hands 
 of a multitude—soon filled the air, and camp-fires began to blaze along in all directions. As 
 it grew dark, the tents looked like thousands of Japanese lanterns, and I rode along the ridge 
 to take notes of the firelight pictures. 
 
 Stopping at a large farm-house, surrounded by a grove of oak trees, I found that the 
 commanding general had established headquarters there. Wall tents were being pitched on 
 the lawn in front, and the headquarters cook was unloading the mess-cart a short distance in 
 the rear. Aides and orderlies were hurrying to and fro, and a general air of business pervaded 
 everything. Farther on, the artillerymen were going into camp; and the horses, after being 
 unhitched and unharnessed, were tethered to a long rope stretched between two trees in rear of 
 the batteries. Some of the men were grooming and feeding the horses, while others were 
 scattered about, busy at various camp-duties. The country was covered by a dense cloud of 
 smoke, lit up by the glow of the fires, and the many sounds from the camp mingled in one 
 great roar. The braying of the mules impatient for their feed rose clear above the din, assert¬ 
 ing their importance—which, indeed, was freely recognized. Riding through the wagon-camps 
 some distance in rear of the main line, the quartermasters by the light of the camp-fires sought 
 to restore order. The feed-boxes for the mules were placed upon the wagon-tongues, and 
 three animals, perhaps, hitched each side. Impatiently eager, the beasts would jump from one 
 side to the other like goats and kick at intervals as mules only know how. The negro 
 drivers hurried about, emptying oats as fast as possible, so as to lessen the noise of their 
 lively animals. 
 
 Turning again toward the front I found a large body of infantry building a breastwork 
 in anticipation of a dash of the enemy, who were not very far in advance. Large fires were 
 burning at intervals and by their light the men were busy felling trees and cutting them into 
 lengths, while others placed them in position along the line marked out by the engineers. 
 Hundreds of men were engaged in digging a trench in front of the works and throwing up 
 an embankment behind it, to which the logs served as a backing; while others were out in 
 front, converting the unused branches into an abatis. Jubilant spirits prevailed, and the jests 
 
 97 
 
Going into Camp. 
 
 and laughter in the face of so much danger seemed strange. The officers were anxious and 
 active in giving directions, and by midnight a fortified line covered the sleeping army. 
 
 I started back to headquarters with an officer of engineers, and found the strange quiet 
 of the night in deep contrast to the evening scenes. The guns along the ridge looked sombre 
 and grim, and the sentinel at the end of the line of pieces stood like a statue with his drawn 
 sabre resting carelessly in the hollow of the arm. The horses in the rear were munching 
 hay and cornstalks, and the battery-men were fast asleep under their slight shelters. The 
 infantry camps had lost their life and brightness, and all the men were sleeping, except the 
 guard who paced with muskets at “ a shoulder;” under all, the low rumble of late wagon- 
 trains could be heard, as they toiled along the pikes, toward the general camping-ground. 
 
 On reaching headquarters I found the general in a room on the ground flooi looking 
 over maps and papers, and questioning an individual who had come for a ‘ g’y ar d (guard) 
 to protect him from soldier-marauders who were making too free with his pigs, chickens and 
 hay. Some of the officers had not retired and we gladly accepted an invitation to join a party 
 who were taking a late supper. It was washed down by the inevitable commissary, and 
 the jug made its appearance from under the camp-bed at regular intervals afterward. But, 
 tired and sleepy, I at last lay down on the floor of the verandah and, wrapped in my blanket 
 and with my boots for a pillow, slept soundly until daybreak. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
XXVI. 
 
 ROADSIDE REFRESHMENT. 
 
 N THE spring and fall of the year, when streams were swollen 
 and springs overflowing, it was an easy matter to supply the 
 army with water; but on the long march in midsummer-heat, 
 with the thermometer in the nineties, the scarcity of it brought 
 the men much suffering and taxed their mettle to the utmost. 
 
 I remember one torrid morning, when hardly a breath of 
 air was stirring, that tents were struck before daylight and the 
 head of the column turned into the road just as the red sun 
 came up through the camp-smoke. It had been intensely hot 
 for two weeks, and this particular morning seemed to be the 
 culmination of the fiery ordeal. The soldiers looked exhausted 
 at the start, and tramped wearily along, wiping the perspiration continually from their dark 
 and dusty faces; even the wags—generally irrepressible, in the face of death itself—were silent 
 under this strain. The horses in the column were drooping and spiritless. As the sun rose 
 higher and the heat increased, the troops straggled along the road in open order, to escape 
 the clouds of suffocating dust. They began to hitch at the knapsack straps, continually 
 seeking to readjust them so that the weight might seem less. Overcoats and ponchos were 
 thrown along the road, and here and there a soldier would halt and with impatient mutter- 
 ings toss his knapsack over into the bushes ; one crying out, “ I will not die like a pack- 
 mule; and no future need.of these things will be worth the misery.” 
 
 A suffering from thirst soon began to be felt, for the wells and springs had not been 
 frequent enough on the route to supply water for the parched mouths and throats. When 
 one appeared, men broke from the column, and the place was soon surrounded by a surging 
 throng. Frantically they rushed forward with tin cup and canteen in hand, hoping to get a 
 drink before the spring was emptied. This would be very soon done, then the poor fellows 
 would scrape up the water as it trickled through the earth, not appearing to mind the muddy 
 mixture that it often held. One wit looked into his cup rather doubtfully and said “ It can’t 
 be helped, boys; we’re made of dirt, so here goes!” and he quaffed the contents amid great 
 laughter. When an old spring-house was found, a guard was stationed with musket in hand 
 at the door and the thirsty crowd was kept in subjection. A limited number of men were 
 allowed inside to fill the canteens that were handed in, and by careful dipping would keep 
 the water clear. Many kinds of filters were made and sold to the troops, and those who pos¬ 
 sessed one were considered fortunate. 
 
 An instance of a hot march occurs to me, on which the simple character of the great 
 commander General Grant was brought into prominence. It was during the movement from 
 the disastrous battle of Cold Harbor to the crossing of the Chickahominy. I had halted at 
 General Warren’s headquarters, which were pitched behind an old farm-house on the roadside. 
 While busy sketching, I heard a soldier remark, “ General Grant has just dismounted on the 
 road in front.” Not having seen him since the battle of Spottsylvania, I was anxious to see 
 how he looked after the strain of the late terrible fighting; so, slipping my sketch-book into 
 my pocket, I started around the house and came upon the general, just as he moved into a 
 crowd of men, who were struggling about a well to get a chance at the bucket as it came up. 
 
 IOI 
 
102 
 
 Roadside Refreshment. 
 
 When the men saw who had arrived they saluted respectfully, and the general quietly said, 
 “ Can I get a drink of water here.” A soldier near him dipped a smoky tin cup info the 
 water and extended it to him. At the same instant, an orderly from General Warren’s tent 
 hurried up, and holding out a tumbler, said, “ Here’s a glass for you, general. ’ No, this 
 will do,” said Grant, and drinking the cup dry handed it back to the man with a simple 
 “ Thank you.” The soldiers looked at him wonderingly as he moved towards the tents, yet 
 with a satisfaction that told of faith in the simple, quiet commander. Except for the three 
 stars on his shoulder-straps, Grant might easily have been taken for a carelessly dressed 
 quartermaster. 
 
 The suffering of the horses and mules on a hot march was equal to that of the men, 
 and when the road was crossed by a stream the patient creatures would hurry down the incline 
 and, plunging their noses deep into the water, would take long draughts, lifting their heads 
 at intervals to get breath. They left the stream with much reluctance, and were it not for 
 the sharp cracking of the long black-snake whips in the hands of the drivers, it would have 
 been difficult to urge them along. 
 
 Dust-covered and weary would be the column when ordered to camp, and much dimin¬ 
 ished in numbers. Many that started in the morning would have become used up and dropped 
 by the wayside, and few of them would get to camp before midnight. A force of over two 
 thousand men, which I accompanied, started from camp on a morning in June; but when 
 they halted at three o’clock they numbered only three hundred. Some were exhausted in the 
 close atmosphere of the pine woods; many died of sun-stroke; and those that dragged wearily 
 into camp during the night did duty with impaired health for weeks. Marchiug in the 
 summer weather was oftentimes as fatal to the soldiers as a series of battles. 
 
XXVII. 
 
 THE ADVANCE GUARD. 
 
 K DUTIES of the advance guard are in every feature precisely 
 the opposite of those of the rear guard. While the latter must 
 always act strictly on the defensive, harassing and impeding 
 the enemy’s approach, the advance guard must be ready to 
 attack the retreating foe and make effort to bring it to a stand, 
 so that the main body of troops may come up and take it at 
 a disadvantage. In a forward movement, a detail was usually 
 made up of infantry and cavalry, with perhaps a section of a 
 battery. These were placed under command of a capable officer, 
 who ordered them forward to clear the road of small bodies of 
 the enemy, to remove all obstructions, repair broken bridges, 
 and perform any office that would facilitate the advance of the forces. 
 
 I was once in company with such an advance when the opposing commanding officer 
 in our front was the redoubtable “ Stonewall ” Jackson. His rear guard made it very lively 
 for our “boys in blue” as they trod persistently on his heels. Jackson either in advance or 
 retreat was very much like a hornet. He could not be felt of without someone getting hurt. 
 
 We left camp and pushed warily down the pike at early dawn, our commanding officer 
 being especially cautious because of the recent loss of a number of men. A small body of 
 our cavalry were in the extreme front, followed by three squadrons; and when about a mile 
 distant from camp they were fired on by what appeared to be half a dozen mounted Rebs, 
 who were of course looked upon as a rear detail of the rear guard probably just beyond them. 
 The way being clear and open, gave opportunity to the cavalry. Orders to draw sabres were 
 given, and to the inspiring notes of the bugle the three squadrons charged down the road at 
 a gallop. A terrible confusion very shortly ensued, for too late our commander discovered 
 that he had been drawn into a skillfully laid ambuscade. The few Confederate cavalrymen 
 had been placed as a decoy; and, our cavalry on dashing forward were suddenly tangled up 
 in a labyrinth of telegraph wires adroitly stretched across the road, and invisible in the dim 
 morning light. Horses and men went down in a struggling mass, and then desperate work 
 began. A large force of the enemy’s infantry had been posted in the bushes of some high 
 ground on the right of the road, and when our cavalry struck the wires these opened a 
 withering fire at close range. A dreadful scene followed; the writhing snarl of men and 
 horses were on the ground, bullet-struck about as fast as they struggled up, while those that 
 were in fields to the left returned all possible fire. Word of our position was sent back and 
 two regiments of infantry soon advanced at “ double-quick ” to the rescue. These were thrown 
 out to the right and rear of the enemy’s force holding the hill, and shortly drove them on 
 the run down the pike, our attack on their flank being too sudden for them to change front. 
 
 Taking care of the killed and wounded next occupied all thoughts, and after an 
 hour’s work they were all disposed of. No trace of the struggle remained save the carcasses 
 of twenty horses, which were drawn to one side of the road.- 
 
 The order was now given for an advance. There was no further danger of ambus¬ 
 cade, as the sun was quite high, although the enemy made it hot for our advance guard at 
 every rise of ground. At one point of the road, trees were felled across and a number of 
 
The Advance Guard. 
 
 106 
 
 farm wagons intermingled to form a breast-work. Our cavalry charged up to it, sending 
 carbine and revolver fire direct into the faces of the defenders, but were driven back with 
 loss. Our men remained quiet until reinforced, then charged again; upon which movement 
 the Confederates started and ran to the next rise of ground, where they had a section of a 
 battery posted. Quite a number of our men and their horses lay dead in front of the 
 obstructions in the road, and at least a dozen of the enemy behind them, all shot in the 
 head. Blood was plentifully spilled about, and large pools had formed on the ground under 
 the horses. 
 
 Our wounded were taken to farm houses and barns in the neighborhood, and the 
 advance steadily pressed on. The enemy were soon on the go again, and our cavalry, rein¬ 
 forced by a full brigade, went down the pike at a trot, as it was expected that the Rebs would 
 burn an important bridge a few miles in front if they could cross in time. I rode with the 
 column, and soon saw a cloud of black smoke, which told that the bridge was burning. 
 Order was given to advance at a gallop; and the cavalry dashed through a village and on 
 to a hill beyond, where we saw the burning bridge, and knew that the Union troops were 
 foiled. The enemy had guns posted on the opposite bank, and a shell was thrown among 
 our mounted men, the bursting of which scattered them like a flock of birds. Riding up to 
 a group which was gathered around a prostrate form, I found a surgeon examining an arm 
 which had been torn to pieces by the shell just thrown. 
 
 Some one cried, “ L,ook out! They are going to fire again!” Glancing across, I could 
 see their guns plainly, and thought best to get out of their range; so, galloping down the 
 hill to the rear I was moving to a place of safety on the right. Then I heard the boom of 
 a gun, shortly followed by the shriek of a shell. This passed about a yard behind my horse, 
 and fortunately fell to the ground without exploding. I rode on into a place of comparative 
 safety, where I could watch the fight. Two of our batteries were brought up and sent to 
 the right, where they could enfilade the enemy’s position, and the other was posted on the 
 rise of ground near the burning bridge. Heavy fire was opened, and through my glass I 
 soon saw the Rebs “ limber up ” and gallop to their rear with Union shells bursting over 
 their heads. Our guards could now do no further duty until a pontoon was laid; so I 
 returned to camp for supper, and, after completing the sketches I had made, lay down with 
 blanket and poncho on the open ground to sleep. During the night a heavy rain fell, and 
 when morning came I was completely drenched. But my fatigue, after that day with the 
 advance guard, had made me happily insensible to it all, and I had slept like a dormouse. 
 
 Clearing 
 
 Way. 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 ARMY BREAD. 
 
 ARD TACK for summer rations and bread for winter was a pretty 
 general rule for the “ boys in blue.” The hard-baked condition of 
 the former made it but slightly susceptible to atmospheric changes, 
 ar *d difficult of penetration by insects. If an occasional white mag¬ 
 got appeared, however, it was brushed off indifferently, and the 
 hungry soldier’s appetite was in no degree lessened. 
 
 The bakeries in winter camps served excellent purpose. They 
 were portable affairs, made of sheet-iron, and sheltered by roughly- 
 "Home-Made" Bread. built sheds. The bread was made by professional bakers, who 
 
 furnished supplies under contract, and the loaf-laden wagons were 
 always a welcome sight in camp. 
 
 I knew of a baker who made a barrel of flour into buns, and sold them to the soldiers 
 for five cents each. The mixture had been fermented to such a degree that the buns when 
 baked were like a puff-ball, and with slight pressure of the hand would become but a 
 mouthful. Feeling a contempt for a fellow who would exact such a price for so inferior an 
 article, I asked him what he made out of the barrel of flour; and he unblushingly replied, 
 “ O, a hundred and fifty dollars.” In addition to the bread furnished by the bakers, car¬ 
 loads came from the base of army supplies, but no quantities received ever exceeded the 
 demand. None but one who has visited a supply-depot could possibly have an idea of the 
 immense quantity of bread and hard tack that was constantly forwarded. Thousands of 
 boxes were stacked to a great height, and train would follow train, loaded with nothing but 
 bread. Waiting wagons would soon be filled and wend their way back to camp, then return 
 and reload, until the temporary supply became exhausted. 
 
 If the army was moving through a grain-producing country in the summer, bread was 
 then easily obtainable for the soldiers, and men were sent to take possession of all the 
 wheat, rye and corn possible, and other detachments were sent to take control of the grist 
 mills. Often after a short ride bams would be found upon plantations, full to overflowing of 
 the country’s produce; and with the assistance of the negroes, who always lent a willing 
 hand, wagons were soon loaded to the top. Then a merry journey to the nearest grist-mill 
 followed, and no delay was made if the old-fashioned overshot wheel was found turning. 
 The men detailed to work the mills had often been “ dusty millers ” in former times, and 
 went to work with a zest and dexterity that came of experience only. As fast as the grain 
 was ground it was poured into bags, which were generally placed in wagons and conveyed to 
 camp; but in lieu of these the backs of mules were sometimes laden, and men, who counted 
 the labor no penalty, would often shoulder them and carry them to camp in high glee. 
 
 Baking was done in various ways. The Dutch oven of a neighboring farm-house often 
 proved a “treasure trove,” and when thus favored the services of a soldier who had been a 
 baker were secured, and a large quantity of bread would be hastily made. When the piles 
 of brown loaves came in sight for distribution, cheer after cheer rang through the air. When 
 ovens were not available, men were left to their individual devices, and then appeared in won¬ 
 derful array “flap-jacks,” “Johnny cake,” and “corn pone.” The chief quality to recommend 
 these was solidity, for yeast was an unknown quantity; but they were palatable “for a’ 
 
no 
 
 Army Bread. 
 
 that,” and many mock ceremonies took place, of a host dispensing luxuries to honored guests. 
 
 Receipts were frequently given for grain taken, but not during Sherman’s campaign, 
 when “ all was fish ” that came to the soldiers’ nets. The feeling was by that time aroused 
 that the Union forces had been too considerate of the enemy’s possessions. 
 
 The Southern commissary departments did not issue as bountifully as our own, prob¬ 
 ably not because of a desire to stint, but because supplies and facilities were limited. While 
 our boys sometimes grumbled that bread was not cake, the “Johnnies ” munched cheerfully 
 the “ rations, on the stalk ” as they called the green corn. Perhaps they fought more bravely 
 because of their limitations ; I am sure if my own conditions were similar I should want to 
 commit murder in some direction. Southern leaders thought our soldiers too much pampered 
 to insure good results, and “Stonewall” Jackson boasted that he “could whip any army that 
 drove a herd of cattle.” Had his information been more complete he might have threatened 
 an army which was fed on soft bread . However, no beef-on-the-hoof or Union hard tack was 
 ignored that fell into the hands of the “ boys in gray,” and they had not lost their bearings 
 entirely when one of our generals in the Shenandoah Valley, whose supply-trains had often 
 been raided, was wittily dubbed by them “Jackson’s Commissary.” 
 
 But, food or no food, the fact is that both sides were American soldiers, and neither 
 will deny that the other did stout fighting. 
 

 
 
 ■ 
 
 ' 
 
 . 
 
 ‘ 
 
 
 
 
 
XXIX. 
 
 A NIGHT IN SUMMER CAMP. 
 
 “ TATTOO.” 
 
 ■tSSI 
 
 ANDERING into camp one night just as the sun was setting, 
 when thousands of tents dotted hill and valley, the settled peace 
 and quiet that had followed the day’s activity seemed restful after 
 my many hours of hard riding. No movement of any kind was 
 taking place, except the arrival of a belated army-wagon, laden 
 with forage or commissary stores, or the return of a general 
 officer and staff from a friendly visit to a neighboring camp. It 
 was supper-time. The smoke from the many fires hung over the 
 camp in the still air, and slowly drifted in horizontal lines into 
 the groves of tall pines near by. Groups of men were scattered 
 about m the company streets, cooking queer messes in saucepans or utensils improvised from 
 tomato cans; and, sitting in front of the shelters, solitary soldiers could be seen devouring, 
 with the never-failing soldier’s appetite, concoctions of their own that would puzzle a pro- 
 fessional cook. 
 
 The Double-Shuffle. 
 
 When supper was finished candles were lighted, and the scene became one of beauty 
 and brightness. The lights shone through the canvas covers with a warm glow, and a 
 casual observer might conclude that a festive illumination was taking place. 
 
 I heard the notes of a violin not far distant, and, passing into one of the streets from 
 whence the sound came, I found a company of soldiers in great glee. A barn-door had been 
 secured and laid flat on the ground to serve as a dancing floor; and upon this jigs, reels 
 and breakdowns were being danced with wonderful facility by some of the soldiers. Others, 
 less accomplished, laid boards on the ground and stamped applause to each performer with 
 gusto. Moving on, I found men reading and writing in some of the tents, and in others they 
 were playing poker and fast losing their hard earnings. There were many sharpers in the 
 army, who enlisted for what they could make by their wits—soldiers “ for revenue only.” 
 Most of them had all the tricks of the art of gambling at their finger-ends, and victimized 
 their confiding comrades in great numbers. Fortunes were won by these harpies, both in 
 bounty money and regular pay of the soldiers. 
 
 In an adjacent camp I found another musical party, singing songs to the accompani¬ 
 ment of a harmonica, skillfully played by a drummer boy. The popular patriotic airs were 
 sung in chorus. Then a soldier who possessed a fine voice was called on for a solo, and after 
 an affected reserve that would do credit to a society belle, the fellow stepped forward and 
 sang with genuine pathos “ Mother, I’ve Come Home to Die.” Then followed “John Brown’s 
 Body,” the chorus of which was taken up with tremendous volume; then “ I Am Lonely 
 To-Night,” and others. 
 
 Officers were gathered in tents in social groups, and from the frequent passage of the 
 company cook with hot-water kettle in hand, I think they must have had refreshments. 
 Pushing aside the flaps of one of the tents, I was greeted cheerfully, and accepted an invita¬ 
 tion to join the party. By a little crowding I was accommodated with a seat on the camp- 
 bed. Several line officers were on the bed and others scattered about on the camp-chairs. 
 
 113 
 
A Night in Summer Camp. 
 
 114 
 
 A witty story-teller kept us all convulsed with laughter, and the colored cook appeared at 
 regular intervals with the hot-water kettle. 
 
 At nine o’clock Tattoo was sounded. The regimental band, with small drums, fifes 
 and a large bass drum, sauntered into the central street, and forming themselves into a 
 circle, played the signal for retiring. 
 
 All now sought their quarters for the night, and after a very short time no sounds 
 
 could be heard except the tramp of the guards, as they marched back and forth and kept a 
 
 sharp lookout for any stray soldier who was courageous enough to attempt to run the guard. 
 The company fires died, the heavy smoke drifted away, and the rising moon looked down 
 upon the weird stillness of the canvas town. Here and there the silence was broken by a 
 soldier confined in the guard-house, who vented his discontent in violent and profane words, 
 but the voice was soon stilled by the gruff command of the sergeant. Then might be heard 
 at intervals the relief guard going the rounds, and a novice would be much interested to see 
 them approach the sentinel on duty and pass the countersign. It was not an unusual 
 occurrence for a commotion to take place in the night in the wagon-camp, and the loud 
 
 braying of the mules would echo through the camp until the negro drivers lashed them into 
 
 silence. But in the early morning hours deep quietude settled everywhere, and no sounds 
 arose to disturb the sleeping army. 
 
XXX. 
 
 A MORNING CALL. 
 
 dream to the weary 
 
 S THE passage of years makes more remote the events of army 
 life, the veteran’s memory grows stronger in recollection; but no 
 reminiscence, however treasured, will take him back in thought 
 and feeling like the familiar sound of the old bugle-calls. From a 
 keyless instrument the notes were necessarily of simple character, 
 but clear and sweet; and the rollicking calls of the cavalry and 
 artillery, and the sober but not less musical calls of the infantry, 
 will always arouse the old spirit of the war-days. 
 
 And who that has lain blanket-wrapped in camp or on 
 battlefield will ever forget the sweet “ Reveille ” that floated like a 
 sleepers, often coming as a harbinger to a bright, jolly day in camp, 
 
 but many times as a forerunner of desperate conflict! 
 
 I have often recalled the scene of one picture, when the army was lying in line of 
 battle confronting the vigilant enemy, from whom we were expecting an attack. Our troops 
 were drawn up on a long range of hills, where quite an open country with fences and occa¬ 
 sional groves of trees stretched in front. We had full reason to suppose that the enemy 
 was in strong force and made ready to give them a soldier’s reception. 
 
 During the early night troops were placed in position; batteries were posted on every 
 hill, with infantry supports in the rear, and cavalry was massed on both flanks of the line to 
 prevent a surprise in that direction. By midnight everything was in readiness for an attack 
 that the coming dawn might bring. The great army, which covered a line eight miles long, 
 and which by daylight had swarmed about like one great hive of bees, was now lost in 
 sleep. Long lines of infantrymen in gray blankets lay in rear of stacked muskets; some 
 had secured cornstalks enough for bedding, but the great majority were stretched on bare 
 ground, with knapsacks and fence-rails for pillows. The artillerymen were sleeping around 
 the rear of their unlimbered guns, except the solitary guard, who moved quietly to and fro 
 and kept an anxious eye toward the enemy. In rear of the guns, limbers and caissons, with 
 horses attached, stood ready for any unexpected movement. 
 
 The excitement of apprehension had driven sleep from my eyes, and I watched by the 
 camp fire and listened to the night sounds. From far off in the front came the steady, 
 plaintive call of a whip-poor-will, who had evidently been roused into unusual activity by 
 the great army, and this, with the ominous cry of a screech-owl, made the darkness seem 
 weird and strange. The hours passed slowly. At last, with the first gray streaks of dawn, 
 a few faint musical notes came from far down the line. It was the Reveille! Other and 
 still other bugles followed in quick succession, until the whole air was alive with the inspir¬ 
 iting blasts, and in almost an instant—with the instinct of watchfulness—the sleeping host 
 was aroused, awake. Then, as far as the eye could reach, multitudes of men arose, rolled 
 their blankets and packed their traps. Men and horses next had to be fed. Thousands of 
 camp-fires soon blazed in every direction, and fragrant coffee simmered merrily in kettle and 
 can. A great canopy of smoke hung over the country, and the sun in crimson glory rose 
 above the bustling throng. 
 
 But scattering shots of musketry, far in front, had already caused the coffee to 
 
 117 
 
n8 
 
 A Morning Call. 
 
 disappear in urgent haste, and in time more brief than could be imagined the scene of apparent 
 confusion had become one of order and quiet. The gunners at the batteries took position; 
 the drivers mounted their horses; the infantry stood rigidly exact, with anxious ear strained 
 toward the enemy. 
 
 Soon, a scattered skirmish-fire commenced, and just as the sun rose the battle began. 
 Ere long, wounded skirmishers began to come back, and were indifferently glanced at by the 
 men in position, for such sights were common ones now. Some were leaning on their guns , 
 others were supported by branches of trees; one used a pitchfork for a crutch, while an 
 officer was carried in a. blanket by four of his men. The enemy’s batteries had sent dis¬ 
 astrous fire among our troops. Here and there a solid shot would be thrown, whose action 
 of ploughing a trench in the earth and then bounding out was more destructive than the 
 conical missiles from the rifled guns, which bored into the ground and burst. 
 
 But while the Rebs were doing their worst our batteries were not inactive, and the 
 interchange of compliment became so animated that I thought best to seek for my art- 
 material in a quieter spot. So, dashing toward the rear, I ran the gauntlet of the flying 
 missiles, and did not halt until a mile away. Many brave fellows of whom I knew not fell 
 on both sides that day; and the Blue and the Gray in a common sleep await the Reveille 
 of the Resurrection. 
 
 )jk 
 
 
 
 
 
 

XXXI 
 
 BUILDING BREASTWORKS. 
 
 URING an aggressive campaign there was little of leisure for man or 
 beast. From daylight till sunset men were flitting about with 
 anxious faces, mind and body taxed to the utmost. Men and mules 
 were kept at work; if not in actual march or fight, then in continu¬ 
 ous preparation, and in the unceasing labor even the mules seemed 
 sometimes to take on an air of responsibility. But the most danger¬ 
 ous and severe work was in the extreme front, and nothing but the 
 most determined effort and rapid execution accomplished the purpose 
 or preserved the lives of the laborers. 
 
 A day’s experience at the great Battle of the Wilderness illustrated the brave spirit 
 and unflagging industry of the officers and their men. The armies of General Lee and 
 General Grant had grappled in the woods surrounding the Wilderness farm, and after a few 
 hours of desperate fighting settled down and fortified the lines. I rode out on the right, and 
 watched during the early part of the day the work of fortifying our front. The main line 
 was laid out on a rise of ground commanding an open field, heavily wooded on the enemy’s 
 side. The Rebs, after a hard struggle, had driven our men back and had made two unsuc¬ 
 cessful attacks on our present position. Minie balls from sharpshooters on the edge of the 
 woods and in the tree-tops whistled by, uncomfortably close, so I dismounted in a patch of 
 woods, and running from behind one tree to another, secured a position finally where I could 
 get a view along the line of battle. The men were digging with pick and spade for dear 
 life, and had already thrown up quite a formidable work, so that, thus protected, they had 
 suffered comparatively little loss. Squads of men were felling trees behind the ridge, and, 
 clearing the trunks of branches, hurried forward with them to the earthworks, where they 
 were used as a backing. In an incredibly short time a splendid breastwork covered our 
 lines on both flanks as far as the eye could reach, and the confident demeanor of the men 
 spoke of the security they felt in the protection. Two brass twelve-pounders, double-shotted 
 with canister, were posted on each side of the road that ran through the works toward the 
 enemy. 
 
 The skill of our skirmishers was now brought into play, and a steady rattle of mus¬ 
 ketry was heard along the line. The usual train of poor wounded fellows began to pass to 
 the rear, but the scene was oddly varied by a squad of queer prisoners. Those of one 
 group had in the lead a stalwart, red-whiskered fellow, who carried a patchwork quilt (used, 
 presumably, for a blanket) under his arm. Behind him came a youth with light-gray jacket 
 and trousers, and a gray infantry cap trimmed with light blue. The next one to him wore 
 a striped worsted sailor cap. And the last in order was an old man with long, white hair, 
 who was evidently a recruit, for he still wore a citizen’s hat — an old-fashioned stove-pipe. 
 They stepped along to the rear cheerfully and briskly, as if not at all averse to entering 
 our lines. 
 
 A number of shells were soon sent over by the enemy, but did no damage, unless to 
 the trains in the rear. 
 
 I ventured along the line, keeping under cover as much as possible, and was greatly 
 interested in watching the different groups along the works. At one point the “head-log” 
 
122 
 
 Building Breastworks. 
 
 was just being put into place. This was usually a tree-trunk eight or ten inches in diam¬ 
 eter, and was made secure about four inches above the top of the works, so that men could 
 fire through the opening and have the heads protected. Further on, a tangle or abatis was 
 being constructed. Parties of men were cutting down pine trees and lopping off the 
 branches, and others, seizing these, would hurry forward and place them on the ground, 
 points outward, thus making a formidable obstruction to an enemy’s approach. The men 
 not employed seemed to have no apprehension of danger, and notwithstanding the threaten¬ 
 ing noise, were grouped about under shelter of the breastworks—cooking, playing cards, and 
 many even sleeping peacefully. At intervals a man would be struck by a ball and start 
 hastily for the rear, and not until some one was wounded did the thought of danger come to 
 them. Even the direct aim of the sharpshooters did not intimidate them, and they stood on 
 the breastworks and walked in front of them as if possessed of a charmed existence. 
 
 Stretched in the rear were the picturesque little shelter tents which lent protection 
 from the sun’s hot rays. Muskets were not stacked in their front, but stood leaning against 
 the rear of the works, so that in the event of an attack not an instant would be lost. 
 
 The enemy made one dash for our breastworks during the day, but were driven back 
 by hot fire. During the rest of my stay matters were comparatively quiet. Slipping back 
 to my horse, I felt much relieved as I rode out upon the open ground near the Wilderness 
 Tavern, which was General Grant’s headquarters. From this point I obtained sight of the 
 reserves and trains. The open space was full of army wagons, and columns of infantry like 
 great blue snakes were winding in, marching from rear to front. Ambulances were coming 
 and going, and ammunition-wagons were passing along the roads in all directions. I reached 
 my own headquarters just in time for the evening meal, and ate of a variety of food in the 
 comfortable dining-room of the farm-house to the accompaniment of rattling musketry. But, 
 however acceptable the food might be, there was less of relish as a glance through the 
 window at the ambulances creeping along the roads in the valley toward the rear told of 
 the wounded and dying. 
 
 
XXXII. 
 
 PICKET DUTY IN THE RAIN. 
 
 NOUGH privation and regrets of home come into the every-day life 
 of a soldier without the loneliness and exposure suffered on the 
 picket line, and it is not to be wondered at that so many died of 
 homesickness in the variety of trials that they were subjected to. 
 The greater part of the Union army was made up of boys direct 
 from comfortable homes, and to one who saw what they endured it 
 was a marvel how they lived through the ordeal. 
 
 The “ fair weather ” soldier was common in the army, and 
 under favorable conditions was a “jolly good fellow,” and grew fat 
 in . prosperity and on good rations; but when taken away from a settled camp he became 
 irritable and complaining, and on picket duty his discontent knew no bounds. 
 
 I was once riding in a cold winter storm when the rain swept in gusts across the 
 country, and found the reserve picket line, wrapped in overcoats and ponchos, and crouched 
 about a scanty fire, the very personification of misery. They were scarcely recognizable as 
 the jaunty, chipper soldiers of the day before. Another group had found refuge under some 
 rails that they had placed slantingly against a fence with a couple of ponchos thrown over, 
 and sat liuddled up in solemn silence, the picture of despair. 
 
 I was curious to learn how some of them accepted conditions; so fastened my horse 
 to a fence and walked out to the advance line. The first one I came to stood in surly 
 position with his back against a pine tree, and with the lock of his gun tucked under his 
 arm to protect it from dampness. The rain trickled from the brim of his hat, and his face 
 was pinched with cold. 
 
 “ Good day, my friend,” I said. “ This is the tough part of a soldier’s life.” 
 
 “Soldier’s life!” he muttered, with an oath. “What made me a soldier, and why 
 am I here? I will tell you. When I saw the quick-stepping boys, with bright brasses, 
 going to the front, and saw the flags wave and heard the bands play, I felt that it would 
 be fine fun for me to go too; but where are the pleasures [with another oath] ? This is 
 one of them, I suppose. Living on poor army rations is another; and being shot at, of 
 course, another. Ah, well, if I had known what I know now I should have staid at home 
 and enjoyed my warm bed and decent food.” 
 
 I tried to cheer him by saying that the sunshine would soon raise his spirits again, 
 and walked on to the next picket. I found a mere boy, whose cheerful face was in great 
 contrast to the one I had just left. He had a bright complexion, with slight down upon 
 the face, and a winning smile. “ A mother’s boy,” I thought, as I approached him. I asked 
 him how he stood the storm, and he replied, “ Oh, first rate!” 
 
 “ Wet ? 
 
 “ Yes, I’m wet enough; but I don’t care for rain or snow. I expected to go through 
 fire and water if need be for the good cause, and this isn’t so bad if one will only keep 
 cheerful about it. I shall be glad to get back sound and well; but if I knew I should 
 leave my bones out here—why, we all had to look that in the face when we started. The 
 
 125 
 
126 
 
 Picket Duty in the Rain. 
 
 fun about offsets the hardship; but, even if it didn’t, we came for business —and [with a 
 chuckle] this seems to be part of it.” 
 
 Leaving this young philosopher, I passed down the line and found many kindred 
 spirits, but here and there a weak-backed, discouraged man. 
 
 And yet the trials that all these and thousands of other fellows suffered were only of 
 the day; for when the sun broke through the clouds everything was transformed. The 
 fires at the reserve post burned up brightly, the men crawled out from their temporary 
 shelters, and even the chronic grumbler to whom I first spoke I saw walking erect, his 
 gun over his shoulder, whistling “ The Girl I Left Behind Me.” 
 

XXXIII. 
 
 OFFICERS’ WINTER QUARTERS. 
 
 
 HE building of camp-houses for officers was done with great care, 
 and they were provided with many more comforts than those of 
 the private soldiers. The most common form was the “Sibley 
 tent. A circle of logs, set deep in the ground in upright posi¬ 
 tion, was first made. Then the lower edge of the tent was 
 attached to the upper ends of the logs, which stood four feet above 
 b g roimd - 'The apex was held up in place by three long poles 
 whose upper ends were crossed, and the lower portions extended 
 down the outside of the tent into the ground. 
 
 ** chuck on some Log’s, Petei" In the interior, a large fireplace was built on one side, also 
 
 a stone-and-mud chimney; and on the opposite side a rough 
 door was fitted to an opening which had been left for the purpose. These structures 
 were quite roomy and surprisingly comfortable. Bunks were made by driving four posts at 
 
 the corners, left about a foot above ground, and straight pieces of board fastened and 
 extended from one to the other. Pine boughs were laid lengthwise, and covered with quite 
 a depth of pine needles gathered from the woods; and when over the whole a blanket was 
 spiead a most comfortable bed had been completed. These bunks were ranged around the 
 sides; swords, saddles, and other accoutrements were hung on the log wall; and a glance 
 inside, when the glowing wood fire was burning in the great fireplace, proved that bright 
 scenes and agreeable conditions were sometimes a part of army life. Here, when off duty, 
 officers found time to lounge and read, others to write, and many to form groups for card¬ 
 playing. I always found their quarters pleasant calling-places, and soon forgot a day’s 
 hardships in their good company. 
 
 Another style of officers’ huts was log houses roofed with “A” tents, having also 
 large chimneys at the rear ends. The headquarter-huts were generally built in rows on 
 each side of the commanding general’s quarters, the latter being of larger dimensions than 
 the rest. Houses of the line officers were built at the ends of the company streets, com¬ 
 manding a view of the regimental camp. 
 
 A commanding general could sometimes secure an old mansion, and thus temporarily 
 enjoy home comforts. The parlor was generally used for an office, and the other rooms 
 occupied as sleeping apartments by the general and his staff officers. When thus comfort¬ 
 ably housed there was no exposure to storms; as there was in the huts, whose canvas tops 
 often leaked, the men, indeed, being sometimes awakened by a stream of cold water running 
 down their backs or into their faces. A gale of wind, too, occasionally carried off the 
 canvas roof, and the rudely aroused inmates would rush off for help to repair the damage 
 before the storm should destroy their meager but much-treasured possessions. 
 
 But some officers were compelled to use the “Wall” or the “A” tents without the log 
 walls. These were not nearly as comfortable as the log-houses, for the wind came under 
 the edges, and it was almost impossible to keep warm in bad weather. A bright log fire 
 modified discomforts somewhat, though in cold weather the faces burned while the backs 
 
1 3 o Officers’ Winter Quarters. 
 
 froze. But comforts, however slight, were accepted gratefully by all, and the jest went 
 round, and songs were sung by many brave, bright fellows who now fill soldier’s graves. 
 
 The above group of sketches will show, more clearly than descriptions can do, the 
 divers modes of utilizing tents—whether merely as roof or as house entire. It is astonish- 
 ing, when men get down to it, to see how little is really required for comfort, even among 
 the civilized and well-reared. 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS IN GAMP. 
 
 PRIVATE soldier’s world, in an active campaign, does not 
 extend far beyond the lines of his own brigade, and except in 
 his immediate vicinity of action, details of a battle in which 
 he had participated were as new to him as to his relatives in 
 the far-off home. Imagine, then, with his horizon bounding 
 such narrow limits, how eagerly he longed for the arrival of 
 the newspapers which would bring him news of “ The Last 
 Great Battle”—of which he had been a part, yet about which 
 he knew but little—as well as of the world in general. 
 
 The sale of popular newspapers in the army was immense, and men who furnished 
 them made fortunes. The work of distribution was in the hands of general agents, who re¬ 
 ceived them in bulk from the North. They placed them with sub-agents in the field, who 
 made final distribution with a large corps of mounted newsboys. 
 
 In winter-camp, a log shanty was built near the railroad station, and here were sold 
 papers, stationery, and the demoralizing dime novel, which came into being about that time. 
 The weekly story-papers seemed an especial prize to the “boys,” and passed through many 
 hands ; when finally read, the pictures were cut out and stuck up, more or less ornamentally, 
 on the walls of the log-shelters. During an active summer campaign the work of distribu¬ 
 tion was difficult and dangerous, the papers having sometimes to be brought from the rear on 
 horseback through a country infested by bushwhackers. Perhaps the army might be engaged 
 in battle and stretched over miles of ground. Fear of rivals would prevent the newsboys from 
 waiting until the ending of the engagement, and out upon the danger-line they would go, to 
 sell their stocks as soon as possible. Among the batteries where shells were bursting they 
 would halt, and, surrounded by crowds of clamoring soldiers, would sell their papers and 
 make change with the coolness of veterans—which indeed they quickly became. Or they 
 would pass along the lines of infantry lying on the ground in the rear, and in a few hours 
 get rid of their supply. 
 
 At the battle of Antietam, I was scanning through my field-glass the long lines of 
 Union skirmishers which had been pushed up under shelter of broken ground and scattered 
 rocks, when I noticed one of the men lying on his back, under shelter of a low bank, calmly 
 reading a newspaper, regardless of the enemy’s bullets which continually drove up the dust 
 and made the chips fly from the rocks within a few feet of him. I marveled at his cool¬ 
 ness as he turned the paper inside out. He scarcely moved his head when a comrade 
 beside him dropped his gun and, lifting his wounded right arm carefully with his left, crept 
 with bent body to the rear. 
 
 I was once making effort to reach the front in anticipation of a great battle, and had 
 to ride forty miles. While pushing along, keeping a lookout for bushwhackers, I heard the 
 sound of galloping horses in my rear. On looking around I saw two mounted boys, riding 
 along with a “ dare-devil ” air. On coming up to me the larger boy cried out, Say, Mister, 
 can we ride with you ? We’re afraid of being picked up.” I laughed at the idea of the 
 slight protection that I could offer, but cheerfully accepted their company in my own loneli¬ 
 ness, and soon learned that they were on the way to camp to sell newspapers. We rode 
 
 [33 
 
i34 
 
 Newspapers in Camp. 
 
 along without any exciting adventure, except the sight of two or three of the enemy’s 
 scouts, wUo were evidently watching the road with the expectation of capturing a wagon train. 
 We moved on until within ten miles of camp, when the boys became impatient, and said 
 they must hurry on to reach camp before dark. So, bidding me good-bye, they hurried off 
 on a lively gallop, and were soon out of sight. I quickened my horse’s speed soon after, 
 and at the end of four miles came in sight of a pontoon train, guarded by infantry, also on 
 its way to camp. I was glad of the protection of the pontoon guard, and rode with them 
 until safe within the Union lines. 
 
 The boys passed out of my mind; and I should probably never have recalled the 
 incident, but one day the next winter as I was riding through camp, a little fellow on 
 horseback hailed me and said, “ How d’ye do ? Don’t you know me ?” I told him that I 
 did not and he said: “ Why, I’m one of the newsboys that rode with you last summer on 
 your way to the army; and I just want to tell you what happened to us. You remember when 
 we left you and hurried ahead? Well, after riding a little way, we came up to a pontoon 
 train and rode with it awhile, but soon left it and rode ahead with a sutler, who was 
 anxious to join his regiment. We pushed along, but had not ridden more than half a mile 
 when a party of Moseby’s men jumped out of the woods, and, seizing the sutler’s horses by 
 the head, hurried us all into a patch of woods near the road. The Mosebies sat perfectly 
 quiet on their horses, and watched the pontoon train pass; and I saw you riding near the 
 first wagon.” 
 
 I asked about the fate of the sutler, and he continued: “Just as soon as the train 
 was out of sight, the Rebs set to work and plundered the wagon of all they could carry. 
 They took the sutler’s horses and then left. They did not take our horses, as the Captain 
 said we were poor boys, and he wouldn’t put us on the ground.” 
 
 “You were fortunate,” I replied. 
 
 “ Oh, yes,” said the boy ; “ we didn’t lose anything. We helped ourselves to a pair 
 of new boots out of the sutler’s wagon.” 
 
 I laughingly bade the fellow good-bye, and as I rode back to headquarters I thought, 
 “ he surely believes that ‘ everything’s fair in love and war.’ ” 
 
XXXV. 
 
 A DEFEATED ARMY. 
 
 HEN victory has perched upon an army’s banners, no words 
 can describe the animated spirit and proud carriage of the 
 men. Even when many have fallen, the survivors feel that 
 the sacrifice has not been in vain, and the wounded bear 
 their pain with joyous resignation. But when a proud host 
 is vanquished the troops fall into a marked listlessness and 
 a Friend tu Need helplessness of demeanor. 
 
 This feeling of despondency was fully shown after the 
 battle of Groveton or Second Bull Run. Desultory fighting had been going on for some 
 days as the Army of the Rappahannock fell back toward Washington. Officers and men 
 were losing confidence in the commanding general (Pope), as they felt his inability to take 
 advantage of his superior position. The Union army was between the two main bodies of 
 General Lee’s forces, and our men felt, and freely said, that if properly managed we should 
 have been able to destroy the enemy by massing on either of the widely-separated wings. 
 The opportunity was lost, however; and, in spite of what seemed to be insurmountable 
 obstacles, General Lee with the main body of his army passed through Thoroughfare Gap 
 in the Bull Run Mountains, and by forced marches joined the detachment under General 
 Jackson at Groveton, at which point Jackson had held the Union army at bay for two days. 
 The reunited forces now presented a defiant front. 
 
 As I sat on my horse on Bald Hill, near the Henry House, I realized that the Union 
 situation was a discouraging one. Every attack upon the enemy’s front had been repulsed 
 with bloodshed, as they were protected by the embankment of an abandoned railroad. Our 
 regiments had been decimated, and thousands of dead and wounded were lying in the hot 
 sun between the opposing lines. 
 
 About fifty guns along our front were shelling the enemy’s lines, when a terrible fire 
 opened on us from the enemy’s right, which enfiladed our batteries and the masses of 
 infantry supporting them. The effect was terrible. Solid shot ploughed through the ranks, 
 and as shells burst among the men who were in column of division, closed in mass, great 
 open spaces appeared where they fell. Ambulances soon began to appear, and hundreds of 
 wounded who could help themselves came drifting to the rear. 
 
 And now the enemy took advantage of the opportunity by an advance from their 
 center and right flank. In the open ground near the center long lines of gray could be 
 seen coming slowly forward toward our line, firing at will; and in the woods along the 
 ridge on our left a terrific roar of musketry could be heard, which suggested a flanking 
 movement by the enemy. We hurried troops forward in resistance, and shortly, on the two 
 sides, fifty thousand men stood face to face, pouring volleys of musketry. The heroic resist¬ 
 ance of the Union line availed nothing, however, and it was compelled to retire slowly. At 
 sundown our force made a final stand near the Henry House. It was useless. Sullenly the 
 whole line retreated, and, after crossing Bull Run at various fords and bridges, was soon on 
 its way back to Centerville. 
 
 I stood by the side of the pike in the gathering darkness, and watched the dispirited 
 throng as it passed. Disorganized infantry regiments mixed confusedly with batteries swept 
 
138 
 
 A Defeated Army. 
 
 by. Ambulances and wagons surged along filled with moaning wounded men, who heard in 
 their pain the shrill yells of the drivers and sharp cracks of their whips as they urged their 
 tired and overladen beasts to a place of safety. Groups of wounded on foot came slowly 
 along the edge of the main current, and rendered one another such assistance as was pos¬ 
 sible. Here and there a wounded officer appeared tenderly cared for by his men, those 
 seriously wounded being carried on stretchers or in blankets. With heavy hearts and 
 languid feet the troops moved on, until far into the night, the march being lit up by camp¬ 
 fires on all sides; but by midnight there were few passers-by except stragglers and the 
 belated wounded who enquired for the location of their regiment, and limped their way 
 onward. Last of all came the rear guard, moving quietly, halting on each rise of ground, 
 and forming into line on either side of the pike to resist any possible advance of the 
 triumphant enemy. 
 
 Tired and despondent myself, I now rode through heavily-falling rain into Centerville, 
 and, tying my horse in an old shed by the roadside, I crawled for shelter under the body 
 of a wagon which lay upturned on the ground. It was so very dark that I could scarcely 
 discern objects, and was surprised to find several soldiers already under the wagon. The one 
 alongside of whom I lay told me that he had been severely wounded in the face. I gave 
 him my rubber poncho, and told him how sorry I was that he had been so unfortunate. 
 He replied: “ I don’t mind being wounded so much, but to be hit in the face will so dis- 
 figure me that the girls will never look at me again.” 
 
 I left the poor fellow before daylight and did not have opportunity of seeing his face, 
 but I have often recalled his odd reply, and wondered if his apprehensions were well founded 
 or if his wound became a badge of honor more sightly to “ the girls ” than a handsome, 
 uuscarred face would have been, had he stayed at home. 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 THE ARMY BLACKSMITH. 
 
 k Efficient Rear Guard. 
 
 HOES for horses in the army were as much a necessity as for 
 nien, and the work done with hammer and anvil was as impor¬ 
 tant in its place as that accomplished with cannon and musket. 
 Without it artillery horses would be of no service, cavalrymen 
 would have been compelled to do duty on foot, and no such 
 wonderful raids as those of Sheridan, Wilson and Averill would 
 ever have been heard of. Wagon trains could not have moved 
 from place to place, and without supplies of food and ammunition 
 campaigns could not have been carried on. 
 
 The blacksmiths’ forges were distributed among the cavalry, artillery and wagon 
 trains. They were mounted on four wheels, similar to the artillery caisson. On the front 
 wheels rested a box, containing all tools and necessary supplies ; and on the rear wheels a 
 furnace and bellows were mounted. The wheels were connected by a bar and coupling pin, 
 and to the bar was attached a screw vise. 
 
 During the march the forge was at the rear of the column, but as soon as a halt 
 was called the blacksmiths commenced work in earnest. They were generally brawny 
 fellows, dressed in worn blue suits and the traditional leather apron, and could be found by 
 the roadside under shade of trees ready to commence business. First the fire was made in 
 the furnace; then the anvil, mounted on a block, was placed on the ground, and hammer, 
 nails, horseshoes, etc., were at hand. 
 
 Quite a picture was often formed when the cavalrymen and artillerymen stood about 
 the forge in their bright uniforms, awaiting their turns. Perhaps an old mule would be 
 driven up by his master, and, like all his kind, having a decided prejudice to being shod. 
 He would stand flapping his ears lazily, apparently indifferent to all surroundings, but 
 cunningly making up his mind to resist all attentions when shoeing time came. So, when 
 the blacksmith approached, he pricked up his ears and turned back his eyes, and when 
 
 attempt was made to examine his feet he squealed and lashed out his hind legs, soon 
 
 clearing a circle about him. Such a situation seemed discouraging; but the blacksmith 
 and his helpers, wholly undismayed, fastened a strap to one fore leg, a rope to the other, and, 
 despite the animal’s frantic struggles, soon had him panting and groaning on the ground, 
 one fore leg bent and strapped up taut. He was then turned on his back, and a long 
 
 rope passed around his hind legs and neck to prevent him from kicking. One might con¬ 
 
 clude that with these preliminaries the creature would be rendered helpless, but the possible 
 ventures of an army mule were limitless ; so, as a further precaution, the rope fastened to 
 his fore leg was held taut by the soldiers, the one around the neck and hind legs was 
 drawn in opposite directions by some of the lookers-on, and the head was held to the ground 
 by the negro driver with a tight clutch of the ears. 
 
 Having their victim thus pinioned, the smith and his assistants would set to work, 
 amid the laughs of the men and the groans of the vanquished mule, to whom no means of 
 defiance remained except the rolling of the eyes and the switching of the tail. When the 
 work was done and the mule released one would naturally look for a desperate resentment, 
 but so humiliated did the poor thing usually seem that he moved off slowly toward the 
 
 141 
 
142 
 
 The Army Blacksmith. 
 
 wagon camp, amid the jeers of the spectators, not enough of his former spirit remaining to 
 resent even the blows of the driver. 
 
 The services of the blacksmith were as valuable in the repairing of wagons and 
 artillery carriages as in the shoeing of horses and mules. Most of the men were ingenious, 
 and ready for all emergencies—“Jacks of all trades,” in fact, and (contrary to the old adage) 
 good at all. Circumstances often made their work difficult, but their unusual willingness and 
 efficiency made them a worthy element in the great hosts who so bravely did service in 
 various wavs. 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 ADVANCE OF THE CAVALRY CORPS. 
 
 UCH of romance and fascinating incident came into the ordinary life 
 of cavalry soldiers, and their dashing style and daring spirit of 
 venture gave more opportunity for interesting study than any 
 other branch of the service. Circumstances developed original 
 characteristics, and brought into prominence both brigades, special 
 bodies and individuals, where infantry could have accomplished 
 nothing. The cavalry were always in close contact with the enemy 
 on scouting duty, in raids, on advance picket, or as videttes. In 
 an advance they were the first to develop the enemy’s position and 
 the first to receive fire; and in retreat they were the last to stand against the enemy’s 
 attacks. They moved about with a rapidity scarcely imaginable, and during an active cam¬ 
 paign seemed to be omnipresent. 
 
 I once witnessed the advance of a cavalry corps when the main army moved against 
 the enemy. Orders had been received for the movement, and there was soon great bustle in 
 the cavalry camp. Tents were struck. Heavy traps were placed in the wagons, blankets 
 and ponchos were strapped on the saddles, and in quick time the regiments were drawn up 
 in line ready for motion. Even the horses seemed to “snuff the battle afar off” as they 
 stood in the ranks impatiently champing their bits. At the sound of the bugle the lines 
 wheeled into column of fours, and with fluttering flags and guidons moved towards the 
 rendezvous. The cavalry corps numbered twelve thousand men, with ten light batteries, and 
 they marched forward and took position in the open country in front. 
 
 I sat on my horse in rear of the lines, and as far as the eye could see watched the 
 masses of horsemen come into position from either flank. Light batteries were aligned in the 
 open spaces between the brigades; and back of all, near the center of the position, was the 
 commander, Sheridan, surrounded by his brilliant staff. Officers and orderlies were rushing 
 about, and all was soon ready for the order “ Forward!” The bugles sounded the advance, 
 and a host of skirmishers, with carbines in hand, moved to the front. The main body fol¬ 
 lowed slowly; but the country was rolling and broken up with frequent woods and streams, 
 and as the great mass of horsemen advanced they broke into various formations at the sound 
 of the bugle. The brilliant moves and changes could be likened only to a kaleidoscope. 
 
 Men in the advance removed fences and other obstructions to facilitate the movements 
 of the main body, and in an hour’s time the enemy’s videttes appeared to view. They 
 retired slowly toward their main line of skirmishers, who showed their position by open 
 carbine fire. The Union lines were steady under the fire, and, moving cautiously forward, 
 returned shots at every opportunity with tact and coolness. Up hill and down, through 
 woods and swamps, over fences and ditches the line steadily advanced, rallying to each 
 other’s support when resistance in front became too great, and taking advantage of cover, 
 however slight, as protection from the hot fire. Now and then a horse and rider would fall; 
 and here and there could be seen a rider leaning forward on his horse’s neck coming slowly 
 to the rear, with the ashen gray face that suggested a mortal wound. Officers did not 
 escape the bullets, and were frequently seen wounded and tenderly supported in the saddle 
 by their men. As soon as they were assisted safely to the rear a surgeon would be sought 
 
 145 
 
Advance op the Cavalry Corps. 
 
 146 
 
 for—in a neighboring farm-house, perhaps, where a hospital had been established. Many 
 
 times a man would be mortally shot and fall from his horse; then the frightened animal, 
 
 with streaming mane and tail, would rush terror-stricken across the field. 
 
 With a sudden dash by quite a force of the enemy the Union line of skirmishers was 
 driven back, but in the movement took all possible cover to harrass the foe. Many of our 
 men dismounted behind stone and rail fences and groups of trees, and, leaving a limited 
 number to attend to the horses, poured a rapid carbine fire upon the advancing line. This 
 was now broken, and the Rebs, in turn, took to cover to re-form. Reinforcements were soon 
 sent from our rear, as “Jeb” Stuart’s entire cavalry confronted us. Fighting along the 
 whole line soon became furious. Batteries on both sides were heard from, and bursting 
 shells and whizzing round shot increased the clamor. The enemy gave way reluctantly, 
 under pressure of the Union advance; their main line soon took position, and the masses of 
 cavalry were drawn up on the further slopes. In rear of them horsemen W'ere moving rap¬ 
 idly, and large - clouds of dust rose in the still, warm air. 
 
 General Sheridan, to test the enemy’s strength, pushed the Union line forward, and, 
 keeping as much as possible under cover, moved on until our whole force was within a mile 
 of the enemy’s position. Then about six thousand horsemen started on a trot toward the 
 enemy, and hot shell fire from all the guns in range opened upon the Union men. The 
 light Federal batteries had meanwhile crept toward the front, and took position on a rise of 
 ground. The Union cavalry, harrassed by opposing artillery and skirmish fire, steadily 
 advanced until near the Confederate line, when the bugle sounded the charge. Now, amid 
 clouds of dust, thousands of horsemen dashed in solid masses up the slope, and cheers and 
 yells of the struggling host rose up amid the rattling carbine fire. The enemy held fast, 
 fighting bravely, and concentrating upon our men forced them back with heavy loss. Hun¬ 
 dreds of wounded men came from the front, and great numbers of horses, some of which were 
 badly wounded, were running about the field. The main body of our men retreated to their 
 original position, accompanied by quite a number of prisoners, who seemed to enjoy their 
 bondage. Our lines were soon re-formed, and a spirited attack made by the exultant enemy 
 was easily repulsed, our batteries in the advance obtaining hot cross fire on their masses. 
 
 The Confederate position was evidently too strong for our cavalry, so the commanding 
 general awaited an infantry reinforcement. When it appeared, however, the enemy vanished. 
 The Union forces advancing occupied the enemy’s evacuated position, and, riding forward, I 
 was able to inspect the scene of the charge. Many dead and wounded men and horses were 
 scattered about the crest of the ridge where the hottest contest took place, and around an 
 abandoned gun a mass of men and horses were lying. 
 
 Several regiments were sent after the enemy to accelerate retreat, but the main body 
 of our forces went into camp, and were soon cooking supper with as much expectant interest 
 as though a battle had never taken place. I sought out some friends and, while partaking of 
 their coffee and hardtack, listened to stories of those who were fortunate enough to escape. 
 
XXXVIIII. 
 
 OFFICERS’ COOKS AND SERVANTS. 
 
 HE mantle of daily industry—“domestic work,” as we may call 
 it—fell upon the shoulders of the colored men or boys, for the 
 drudgery of camp-life came to them alone, and the most laborious 
 duties were performed by them with a never-failing cheerfulness 
 that is seldom found in positions of servitude. I sometimes heard 
 it stated that their good will came from a feeling of emancipation 
 from arbitrary masters, and also because of the chance to earn a 
 few independent dollars; but I ofteu watched them closely under 
 the most toilsome and exasperating circumstances, and was con¬ 
 vinced that in most cases the willingness came of conscientious scruples to do the best they 
 knew how for those engaged in what they regarded as the fight for their freedom. 
 
 The officers’ cooks and servants were varied in appearance, but at all times picturesque 
 in costume and figure. With peculiar characteristics, they sometimes caused anxiety to their 
 employers, but the amusement which their droll ways and odd sayings occasioned more than 
 made amends. Some of the colored men were the experienced servants of good families, and 
 were adept in the administering of ease and comfort. Others were field hands; yet, if not 
 trained like the house servants, they were eager to be satisfactory, and the rough elements 
 of cooking gleaned from plantation kitchens served a fair purpose. In winter camp the cooks’ 
 duties were easily performed; for, as the commissary was near by with necessary stores, 
 sold at about cost price, the officers’ tables were readily supplied. 
 
 The cook’s kitchen was placed behind the quarters of the officers, and was usually a 
 canvas-covered log house with a great stone chimney at the rear end. Around the sides of 
 the kitchen hung cooking utensils, and in the comer stood the mess-chest, from whose 
 capacious interior necessary condiments were supplied. And here, on a bright fire of pine 
 logs, most appetizing dishes were cooked. Chickens were roasted to a turn, and when good 
 fortune directed a rabbit to the hand of a colored cook a stew was furnished whose savor 
 was long talked of by the partakers. Ham and eggs, griddle cakes, and all concoctions 
 which the surroundings could produce or willing hands prepare were placed before the officers. 
 
 During a summer campaign the commissary supplies were generally with the main 
 wagon train; and the necessity of supplying the mess, in a great measure, by what could be 
 found from day to day made the duties of the cooks quite arduous. Temporary supplies 
 were generally carried on pack-mules or in a mess-cart, the latter being found during a 
 march at the rear of the column. A good cook was apt to be a good forager, and secured 
 many delicacies along the roadside farm-houses that a less persistent and appreciative person 
 would miss. When camp was pitched the best the mess-chest afforded would be quickly 
 converted into something palatable for the table, and the inevitable coffee, which served the 
 double purpose of quenching thirst and supplying nutriment, was never forgotten. 
 
 The officers’ body servants were as a rule colored boys, and like all youth, were 
 sometimes careless and forgetful. In a general way, however, they served good purpose, and 
 their natural giotesqueness and sense of humor afforded much amusement for the men. 
 
 Instances of bravery among the colored servants were not rare. At the battle of 
 Cedar (or Slaughter's) Mountain, Knapp’s battery, which was posted near the left of the line, 
 
 Smoking Hot. 
 
 
150 Officers’ Cooks and Servants. 
 
 had a colored man and boy in service as cooks. When action commenced they were ordered 
 to the rear, but the man said: “No, Cap’n; I’ll stay with you and fight.” He worked 
 
 faithfully at a gun during the greater part of the engagement, and when danger seemed 
 almost passed the poor fellow’s head was taken off by a solid shot. The boy had thus far 
 steadily and efficiently carried water for the gunners from Cedar Creek, in the rear of the 
 battery, but when he saw the mutilated body of his comrade he became terror-stricken, and 
 fled to the rear. 
 
XXXIX. 
 
 THE CRIME OF DESERTION. 
 
 HEN the great wave of patriotism first swept over the country, after 
 the attack upon Fort Sumter, men of better calibre sought the ranks 
 than during the last years of the war. Men of all professions, gradu¬ 
 ates of institutions, and representatives of all kinds of business rushed 
 enthusiastically to the country’s defence. There was a surplus of 
 volunteers. Men were often refused because regiments were more 
 than full; and many young fellows were sent in disappointment home¬ 
 ward because of some slight physical defect. 
 
 Yet, while there seemed an overabundance of good men, many were blindly accepted 
 who were weak in character, and some even proved false to the colors, though rarely. Later, 
 when the armies were supplied by drafting and by the payment of bounties, recruits felt less 
 the pressure of “ patriotism” and more their own selfish interests. Many, especially of those 
 paid bounties, would desert at the first opportunity; and then, perhaps, enlist again for a 
 second payment. “Bounty jumping” became a regular industry. During the entire war 
 between two and three hundred thousand deserted. 
 
 In the- year 1863 I had once the opportunity of looking over a company roll-book, and 
 was much surprised to find the word “ Deserter ” affixed to about one-third of the names. I 
 
 asked the Captain why desertion was so common, and he replied that there was lack of 
 
 proper punishment. The authorities at Washington feeling disinclined to enforce the extreme 
 penalty, the armies were much weakened, and great injustice was thus done to the faithful. 
 But before the expiration of that year authorities became so alarmed at the rapidly diminish¬ 
 ing forces that tremendous efforts were made to put an end to this great crime, and orders 
 
 were given for the execution of all deserters. From this time until the close of the war the 
 penalty was enforced. Many and elaborate were the excuses made by those who were cap¬ 
 tured and returned to the command for trial. Some did not seem to realize the enormity of 
 the offence, and felt a freedom to stay or go because having sought the service voluntarily; 
 some disliked their officers; and a host acknowledged that the terrible home-sickness alone 
 actuated them. 
 
 The professional bounty-jumpers were of course numerous. Vigilant officials sought 
 to prevent this traffic, and guards were placed in rear of all the armies of the field. They 
 were also placed in larger numbers along the railroads running north, and were instructed to 
 patrol the country on each side and capture all suspicious characters. Many innocent-looking 
 parties, dressed in clothing which they had purchased or picked up, were brought into camp, 
 and when subjected to the examination of the provost marshal, often proved to be Northern 
 bounty-jumpers in search of fresh pastures. They were then passed to their regiments, where 
 
 courts martial quickly attended to their cases. 
 
 I once saw a party of five men wfio were convicted of desertion and sentenced to be 
 shot. Until the day of execution they were imprisoned in an old barn in camp, and placed 
 
 under a strong guard. 1 , 
 
 On the day appointed the whole corps to which they belonged were ordered to parade 
 The troops were assembled in long lines on the side of a shallow valley. The condemned 
 men with their guards, marched out of the barn, and took an allotted position m the 
 
154 
 
 The Crime of Desertion. 
 
 column. This was headed by a brass band, followed by the division provost guard, who 
 under command of a captain, were to act as the firing party. Behind the provost guard 
 marched eight soldiers bearing two coffins, and after them, accompanied by a Catholic priest, 
 marched two condemned men dressed in white shirts and blue trousers; then two more 
 coffins carried by soldiers, and two condemned men accompanied by a Methodist minister- 
 after them a single coffin was borne along, and behind it walked the fifth deserter (who was 
 a Jew) attended by a rabbi. The burial party followed, carrying spades. When all was in 
 readiness the band played the “Dead March in Saul,” and to its solemn strains all marched 
 in front of the military lines on the hillside, halting at the place of execution, in front of 
 the center of the corps. Thousands of spectators from neighboring camps covered the hill 
 and those whom I could see seemed to realize the solemnity of the occasion. Graves had 
 been previously dug, and in front of them the coffins were placed, and the men ordered to 
 sit down upon them with faces toward the firing party. Minister, priest and rabbi stepped 
 forward and, after holding a whispered conversation with those of their faith, retired a short 
 distance. The officer of the guard then stepped behind the men, and quickly blindfolded 
 them with handkerchiefs which he took from the breast of his coat. Then, stepping to one 
 side and in front of the firing party, he gave the deadly order: “ Ready 1 Aim! Fire!” 
 At the volley the five white-shirted figures fell back without a struggle, except one, who 
 rolled convulsively off the coffin. Surgeons in attendance stepped forward, and after a brief 
 examination pronounced the men dead.' 
 
 The troops soon returned to their various camps, and before they were out of sight 
 the coffins were lowered into the graves and covered. Scant trace of the tragedy remained, and 
 the valley resumed its quiet. Dramatic effect was intentionally sought in this execution, to 
 put an end to desertion; and time proved it to have been a wise proceeding. But while it 
 produced good results in a general way, it did not deter two men of the same company to 
 which the deserters belonged from slipping away on the very night of the execution; and 
 they were never captured. 
 
XL. 
 
 THE REAR OF THE COLUMN. 
 
 NLY the hard work of the inarch in the opening of a campaign 
 brought to notice the most characteristic oddities and peculiar 
 varieties of men and things. But, however much of interest there 
 might have been in the changing scenes of the great panorama, 
 no part of it comes back to me as vividly as the picturesque con¬ 
 fusion of the mass toward the rear. Rapidity of movement was 
 of the first importance, and foot soldiers who could not keep pace 
 fell out and drifted back; when cavalry horses and artillery gave out riders would dismount 
 and lead them; ambulances, with the sick and slightly wounded, were found in the rear; 
 also the officers’ servants and cooks, and pack mules with their drivers swelled the variety. 
 
 The chronic malingerer was found here in full force, and his constant groans and 
 disconsolate face were calculated to oppress the spirits of his comrades. Bare-footed soldiers, 
 whose shoes had worn off in the march, limped painfully along. Drummers and fifers found 
 place here, except when they were ordered forward for march duty; also officers’ servants 
 and the whole number classed as “ not in action ” during a battle. Families of negro refu¬ 
 gees often joined the column, looked back at the old home with momentary regret, but soon 
 joined in the general laugh and chatter, with no apprehensions of the future. 
 
 It was impossible to fall out entirely on the march, for that meant capture, and 
 visions of Andersonville and Libby prisons urged many a'footsore soldier forward when he 
 
 otherwise would have lost sight of the main column. 
 
 Good nature generally prevailed among this promiscuous company, misfortunes often 
 being made a source of jest. Others in the column were much amused at the odd collection, 
 and laughed heartily at both their enjoyments and mishaps. 
 
 Discipline was lax at the rear, however, and men took advantage of all opportunities 
 
 to lighten their burdens; horses and mules were “confiscated,” loaded with soldiers’ traps, 
 
 and marched along. Farmers on the line of march no doubt bear these rear characters in 
 regretful remembrance, as, like the Bummers in the advance, they were most accomplished 
 foragers, and it was but seldom that any physical ailment would prevent a pursuer from 
 capturing a turkey, chicken or fat hog. Milk and honey were most thoroughly appreciated, 
 and many a gentle cow received rough milking from the Union soldiers. Two men would 
 hold a cow’s head, each seizing a horn, a third would secure a firm hold of the tail, while a 
 fourth with tin cup in hand would approach and, speaking gentle words, would commence 
 milking. Sometimes the milk was obtained with difficulty, for the cow would become terror- 
 stricken and, struggling and kicking, would often spill the precious draught, and send the 
 milker sprawling upon the ground. 
 
 I once sketched an odd group at the rear of a column. A tall colored boy, in an old 
 
 gray uniform, was leading a forlorn mule, laden with the most varied assortment of war 
 
 material I ever saw gathered together. Hanging over the back was a canvas tent rather 
 the worse for wear; around the neck three belts and cartridge boxes were hung, and on the 
 sides were fastened a miscellaneous collection of muskets, cartridge boxes, bayonets, tin cups, 
 kettles and canteens. He made a ludicrous appearance as he tramped along, for nothing 
 could be seen of the mule but legs and ears. 
 
 IS7