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Autobiography 

OF 

Capt.  Richard  W.  Musgrove 


RICHARD  W.  MUSGROVE 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
RICHARD  W.  MUSGROVE 


A  TRIBUTE 

TO 

MAYME 

WHO    WITH 

HEAD,  HEART  AND  HAND 
STILL  TOILS 

FOR  THE 

OLD  HOME  AND  OFFICE 


GENE 

FOR    ALL    THE 
MUSGROVES 


Autobiography 

of 

Capt.  Richard  W.  Musgrove 


PUBLISHED    BY 

MARY  D.    MUSGROVE 

1921 


i>> 


^<\\ 


While  the  early  portion  relates  to  father's  boyhood  and  to 
incidents  occurring  in  Bristol  in  those  days,  the  sketch  is  devoted 
largely  to  events  during  his  term  of  nearly  four  years  in  the  Union 
Army.  It  was  his  intention  to  publish  this  autobiography  during  his 
lifetime,  and  in  the  manuscript  there  are  many  indications  of  paragraphs 
to  be  rewritten,  with  additions,  and  of  statements  to  be  verified. 
Although  we  have  found  it  impossible  to  make  all  the  additions  which 
marginal  notes  indicate,  we  are  endeavoring  to  publish  it  as  nearly  as 
possible  as  the  author  intended. 

MARY  D.  MUSGROVE. 


ape 


# 


CHAPTER  I 
BIRTH  AND  BOYHOOD 


I  awoke  to  the  realities  of  this  mundane  sphere  in  Bristol,  N.  H., 
on  the  21st  day  of  November,  1840.  It  was  not  an  event  of  great  mo- 
ment to  the  world  at  large  but  to  me  it  was  an  event  of  importance. 
I  am  told  that  my  early  years  gave  promise  of  no  remarkable  career  in 
any  respect  and  so  I  hope  I  have  attained  the  full  expectation  of  my 
friends. 

My  recollections  cover  the  time  from  1843,  when  I  stood  by  my 
mother's  knees  and  listened  to  a  discussion  by  her  and  the  Rev.  Natha- 
niel W.  Aspinwall,  about  the  Millerite  craze  that  was  then  sweeping 
over  the  country,  and  about  its  disastrous  effects  on  the  churches  in 
Bristol  and  the  community  in  general.  I  did  not  take  in  the  full  scope  of 
the  discussion,  but  I  clearly  discerned  that  something  terrible  was 
abroad  in  the  land,  and,  indeed,  that  a  calamity  had  visited  Bristol;  and 
the  picture  then  formed  on  the  retina  of  my  memory  has  remained  with 
all  its  vivid  colors  through  life. 

The  chief  topic  of  discussion  in  those  days  was  the  immediate  com- 
ing of  Christ  and  the  end  of  the  world.  Large  numbers  of  people 
completely  lost  their  reasoning  powers.  They  not  only  believed  in  the 
end  of  the  world  at  a  time  only  a  few  months  in  advance,  but  they  con- 
tended that  a  belief  in  this  doctrine  was  essential  to  salvation  when  the 
end  should  come.  Some  went  so  far  as  to  prepare  robes  in  which  to 
ascend  to  glory.  The  chief  effect  of  this  craze  was  to  unfit  people 
for  the  every-day  work  of  life.  Business  was  neglected,  crops  were  left 
ungathered  in  the  field,  and  many  were  brought  to  suffer  for  their  im- 
providence. David  Trumbull  of  Hill  was  one  of  the  leading  spirits 
in  the  Millerite  craze  in  this  section.  In  the  fall  of  1843  he  had  a 
large  field  of  potatoes  that  he  declined  to  dig  because  he  should  not  need 
them.  One  day  Hezekiah  Sargent,  a  neighbor,  asked  permission  to 
dig  a  few.  "Yes,"  said  Trumbull,  "dig  all  you  wish.  I  only  want  a 
few  to  last  me  the  short  time  I  shall  stay  here."  Sargent  gathered  the 
crop.  Time  wore  on  and  Trumbull  needed  more  potatoes  than  he  had 
put  into  his  cellar  and  called  on  Sargent  to  help  him  out,  when  Sargent 
coolly  replied  he  did  not  know  as  he  had  any  to  spare. 

PAGE    SEVEN 


Methodist  Chapel  and  Church 

Closely  allied  with  this  in  point  of  time  is  my  recollection  of  town 
meetings  at  the  old  Methodist  chapel  on  the  east  side  of  North  Main 
street  at  the  base  of  Sugar  hill.  As  my  home  was  about  midway  be- 
tween the  chapel  and  Central  Square,  I  could  but  notice  the  constant 
stream  of  humanity  that  travelled  between  the  chapel  and  the  square 
on  election  days,  and  my  curiosity  was  rewarded  with  the  information 
that  after  a  ballot  was  deposited  each  man  made  a  trip  to  the  square 
for  a  drink.  At  that  time  liquors  were  sold  in  the  grocery  stores  of  the 
town,  at  the  hotel,  and  in  saloons. 

I  presume  it  was  owing  to  home  influences  that  I  had  a  veneration 
for  the  old  chapel  and  I  wondered  that  so  many  of  the  boys  delighted 
to  club  the  old  building,  that  some  threw  stones  at  the  windows  at 
every  opportunity,  and  that  one  boy  on  a  Fourth  of  July,  to  prove  that 


Methodist  Chapel  built  in  1814 

he  could  fire  a  piece  of  paper  through  an  inch  board,  drove  the  wadding 
of  his  gun  through  one  of  the  doors  of  the  chapel. 

This  chapel  under  the  hill  was  an  ancient  relic  when  I  was  a  boy. 
I  well  remember  its  interior  for  I  attended  meetings  and  lectures  there. 
Between  the  two  doors,  next  to  the  front  walls,  were  a  few  seats  eleva- 
ted above  the  rest,  which  accommodated  the  singers.  When  the  people 
determined  to  modernize  the  chapel  by  heating  it  during  service,  a  box 
stove  was  located  between  the  front  seats  and  the  pulpit  in  the  east  end. 
A  plank  platform  was  hung  from  the  ceiling  over  the  singers'  seats,  and 
on  this  the  chimney  was  built.  A  funnel  extended  from  the  stove  to 
the  chimney.  There  was  then  so  little  room  above  the  heads  of  the 
singers  that  they  had  to  move  about  cautiously,  else  their  heads  would 
come  in  contact  with  the  stove  pipe.     The  chapel  had  no  gallery— there 


PAGE    EIGHT 


was  no  room  for  one;  the  pulpit  was  reached  by  three  or  four  steps  only 
and  there  were  no  box  pews,  only  common  slips.  The  society  was  too 
poor  to  have  these  things,  and  so  by  force  of  circumstances  the  chapel 
was  quite  modern  in  some  of  its  features. 

When  I  was  a  boy  the  people  had  not  ceased  to  talk  of  how  Rev. 
George  Storrs  had  been  mobbed  within  the  walls  of  this  chapel  because 
he  dared  to  speak  against  slavery.  Indeed  the  agitation  of  the  question 
of  slavery,  increasing  as  it  was  year  by  year,  would  not  let  the  recollec- 
tion of  such  incidents  die  out,  and  what  I  heard  about  the  doings  of  the 
mob  made  such  an  impression  on  my  mind  that  it  almost  seems  to  me 
now  that  I  was  an  eye  witness  of  it,  though  it  occurred  three  years 
before  I  was  born. 

After  the  Methodists  ceased  to  use  the  chapel  on  the  completion 
of  the  new  chapel  on  Spring  street  in  1839,  it  was  used  by  the  Free 
Baptists  for  some  years,  and  for  lyceums,  lectures,  and,  till  1853,  by  the 
town  for  town  meetings.  But  the  old  chapel  must  go.  Rev.  Ebenezer 
Fisk  bought  it  and  the  material  went  to  help  build  the  Free  Baptist 
church  which  now  stands  on  Summer  street.  I  watched  the  tearing  down 
of  the  venerable  and  venerated  building  with  much  interest.  Among  the 
workmen  were  the  Nelson  brothers,  then  in  the  prime  of  early  manhood 
and  I  marveled  at  the  exhibitions  of  strength  as  these  young  giants  of 
the  farm  put  their  shoulders  to  the  work.  Now  where  the  church  once 
stood  is  the  garden  connected  with  the  residence  occupied  for  many 
years  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.   E.   K.  Pray. 

The  immense  Balm  of  Gilead  tree  that  stands  a  few  rods  south  of 
this  site  on  the  same  side  of  the  street  was  set  out  when  I  was  a  boy 
as  I  well  remember,  from  the  fact  that  I  was  given  a  shaking  by  the 
owner  one  day  for  presuming  to  lean  against  the  sapling,  and  thus 
endanger  its  life. 

I  was  a  constant  attendant  at  the  Methodist  chapel  on  Spring  street 
when  a  boy.  I  usually  sat  on  one  of  the  front  seats  near  the  door,  and 
in  summer  time  was  always  barefooted.  My  view  through  the  open 
door  extended  down  the  Pemigewasset  valley,  and  the  beautiful  land- 
scape spread  out  before  me  is  more  distinctly  remembered  now  than  any 
sermon  of  those  days.  I  remember  some  Sunday  school  concerts  of 
that  period,  in  one  of  which  twelve  men  represented  Joseph  and  his 
brethren.  Joseph  was  put  into  a  pit,  only  there  was  no  pit  and  so  in- 
stead he  was  placed  in  the  rear  part  of  the  stage  in  full  view  of  the  audi- 
ence, and  afterward  sold  to  the  Egyptians.  At  that  concert  I  sang 
Coronation,  and  Hon.  N.  S.  Berry,  later  the  honored  governor  of  the 
state,  who  presided,  accompanied  me,  singing  the  base. 

At  that  time  a  stage  was  built  over  the  altar  extending  to  the  front 
seats.     They  were  rough  joists  laid  from  the  altar  rail  to  the  front  seats, 

PAGE   NINE 


and  on  these  loose  boards  were  laid,  which  creaked  every  time  any  one 
passed  over  them. 

The  Sunday  services  of  those  days  were  preaching  at  10:30;  Sunday 
school  at  12  or  a  little  before;  preaching  at  1  o'clock  and  prayer-meeting 
at  5  or  later.  I  was  expected  to  attend  all  these  services  and  nothing 
less  than  a  real  sickness  was  sufficient  to  allow  my  staying  at  home.  In 
those  days  the  farmers  on  the  hill  farms  sent  large  delegations  to  all 


Methodist  Chapel  built  in  1839 

the  churches  of  the  village,  and  the  horse-shed  meetings  during  the 
intermissions  were  largely  attended,  when  the  farmers  gave  and  gathered 
the  news,  discussed  agriculture  and  sometimes  politics.  A  family  picnic 
on  Sunday  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  would  have  shocked  the  whole 
community;  and  even  a  day  spent  resting  at  the  lake  instead  of  at 
church  was  rarely  known. 

Friction   matches   were   first  introduced   into    Bristol   at   a   muster 
held  on  what  is  now  the  Favor  Locke  farm  in  the  west  part  of  the  town 


PAGE    TEN 


about  1837.  They  were  made  singly,  about  as  thick  as  a  match  to-day 
but  wider.  On  both  sides  for  half  an  inch  from  the  tip  there  was 
phosphorus.  The  match  was  lighted  by  placing  it  between  a  piece  of 
sandpaper  folded  about  it  and  suddenly  withdrawing  it  while  pressing 
the  sandpaper  against  the  match  in  the  hand.  About  50  of  these 
matches  and  a  piece  of  sandpaper  were  put  up  in  a  box  and  sold  for  25 
cents.  Their  appearance  made  quite  a  sensation  and  the  peddler 
offering  them  for  sale  did  a  rushing  business.  Strange  as  it  may  seem 
some  did  not  look  with  favor  on  this  innovation,  and  when  a  boy,  even 
after  their  usefulness  had  been  proved,  I  heard  some  of  the  old  people 
speak  of  them  as  a  curse.  One  of  the  objections  urged  against  them 
was  that  a  man  could  so  easily  set  fire  to  a  building  and  then  make  his 
escape. 

Stage  Coaches  and  Taverns 

I  always  took  great  interest,  as  did  all  the  boys,  in  the  arrival  of  the 
stagecoach,  loaded  as  it  generally  was  with  passengers.  The  driver  who 
could  swing  his  long  whip  and  strike  a  barking  dog  with  stunning  force, 
sending  him  howling  in  another  direction,  or  who  could  drive  with  great 
skill,  making  a  graceful  curve  to  the  door  of  the  tavern,  was  a  man  that 
all  the  boys  envied. 

The  daily  arrival  of  the  stagecoach  was  a  great  event.  It  brought 
the  mails,  consisting  of  a  few  letters  and  a  very  few  weekly  papers,  and, 
what  was  of  greater  consequence,  all  the  current  news  of  the  day. 
Bristol  had  its  unemployed  and  leisure  class  then  as  now,  and  all  these 
were  at  the  tavern  when  the  stage  arrived.  The  stage  was  here  but  half 
an  hour  or  so,  but  the  crowd  lingered  long  after  its  departure  and 
enlarged  on  the  bits  of  news  dropped  hurriedly  by  the  driver  and  the 
chance  passengers.  On  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  the  driver  and  passen- 
gers filed  into  the  tavern,  took  a  drink  of  grog,  then  took  seats  at  the 
dining  tables  and  helped  themselves  to  the  food  in  waiting.  During 
the  noon  hour  the  horses  were  changed  and  then  the  coach  proceeded 
on  its  way. 

Commencing  in  July,  1821,  a  stagecoach  passed  through  Bristol 
twice  a  week  on  its  way  from  Haverhill  to  Concord.  This  left  Sinclair's 
tavern  in  Haverhill  on  Mondays  and  Fridays  at  4  o'clock  a.  m.,  and 
arrived  at  Wilson  Stickney's  in  Concord  about  5  in  the  afternoon. 
On  its  return,  it  left  Concord  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays  at  about  the 
same  hour  for  Haverhill,  where  it  connected  with  stages  for  the 
northern  part  of  Vermont  and  Canada. 

In  1833,  Bristol  had  three  mails  from  the  south  and  the  same 
number    from    the    north    each    week.     Up    to    1835    two    horses    were 


PAGE    ELEVEN 


sufficient  for  all  the  travel,  but  this  year  four  horses  were  attached  to 
each  stagecoach,  and  the  coach  made  daily  trips  and  so  continued  till 
the  advent  of  the  railroad  in  1848. 

These  were  the  days  that  the  writer  remembers.  They  were 
considered  great  days  for  Bristol,  and  they  were.  Sometimes  two  and 
even  three  coaches  were  required  to  accommodate  all  the  travel.  Those 
coaches  going  south  usually  stopped  at  Prescott's  tavern  on  the  east 
side  of  South  Main  street  for  dinner,  while  those  going  north,  arriving 
before  the  dinner  hour,  proceeded  to  Hoyt's  tavern  in  Bridgewater, 
now  Elm  Lawn,  where  dinner  was  served.  Prescott's  hotel  or  tavern, 
as  it  was  then  called,  was  in  its  day  the  chief  hotel  of  the  village  when 


Tavern  Sign  of  Peter  Sleeper,  who  opened  the  first  tavern  in 
Bristol   Village,  near  the  junction  of    High    and    Cross  Streets 

the  village  boasted  of  three  or  four.  It  was  sometimes  called  the 
Washington  tavern  from  the  fact  that  on  the  tavern  sign  that  swung 
from  an  arm  of  a  post  on  the  southwest  corner  was  painted  a  crude 
picture  of  Washington.  In  December,  1849,  this  tavern  was  destroyed 
by  fire  and  was  not  rebuilt. 


PAGE  TWELVE 


The  business  brought  to  the  taverns  by  the  stagecoaches  consti- 
tuted but  a  small  part  of  the  business  at  the  taverns.  In  those  days 
every  farmer  raised  large  herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep,  made 
maple  sugar,  butter  and  cheese  and  other  articles,  for  the  market,  and 
about  the  only  market  was  Boston.  Consequently  in  the  fall  of  the 
year  the  roads  were  fairly  choked  with  the  cattle  and  sheep  driven  to 
market,  and  in  the  winter  every  farmer  made  a  trip  to  Boston  to  dispose 
of  the  surplus  products  of  the  farm.  The  team  almost  universally  used 
was  the  pung,  or  pod,  drawn  by  two  horses.  In  this  was  loaded  the 
poultry,  butter  and  cheese,  maple  sugar,  dried  apples;  yarn,  socks,  and 
mittens,  spun  and  knit  by  the  thrifty  housewife;  sheep's  pelts,  furs  as 
the  product  of  the  hunt,  and  many  other  articles.  Almost  invariably 
the  load  was  topped  off  with  one  or  more  dressed  hogs  exposed  to  the 
weather.  A  goodly  number  of  neighbors  often  made  these  trips  to- 
gether, and  when  sleighing  was  good  a  vast  number  of  teams  were  on 
the  road  at  the  same  time.  All  these  brought  business  to  the  tavern 
keepers,  for  when  night  came  all  must  find  a  place  to  sleep  and  some- 
times 75  men  or  more  passed  the  night  at  Prescott's  tavern,  alone. 
And  the  tavern  keepers  grew  rich  for  those  days  on  a  large  number  of 
small  fees.  Ten  cents  was  the  common  charge  for  the  privilege  of 
sleeping  on  the  barroom  floor  or  the  hay  loft,  while  a  larger  fee  was 
received  from  those  who  occupied  the  few  beds  that  the  taverns 
afforded.  And  more  than  this  was  the  income  that  the  landlord  derived 
from  the  sale  of  grog.  A  man  could  eat  on  his  trip  the  frozen  food 
brought  from  home,  but  he  needed  his  grog  several  times  a  day,  and 
this  he  must  buy  of  the  landlord. 

The  Railroad 

Then  came  the  railroad,  and  while  that  was  building  we  crossed 
the  falls,  before  the  bridges  were  constructed,  on  planks  placed  from 
stone  to  stone.  Some  of  the  older  boys  assisted  me  at  such  times, 
and  upon  reaching  the  south  bank,  after  looking  into  the  rapidly  flowing 
stream  from  our  frail  foot  bridge,  we  took  a  long  breath  of  relief. 
We  watched  the  tearing  down  and  removal  of  the  boarding-house  in 
front  of  the  three-story  mill,  now  a  one-story  pulp  mill,  to  make  way  for 
the  road  to  the  station,  and  listened  with  horror  to  the  detailed  account 
of  the  death  of  the  two  Irishmen  blown  up  by  the  premature  explo- 
sion of  powder  in  the  hardpan  just  north  of  the   engine  house. 

The  three-story  woolen  mill  alluded  to  above  was  built  in  1836. 
The  present  pulp  mill  shows  the  ground  size  of  the  structure.  The 
road  to  this  mill  was  down  the  south  bank  of  the  river  from  Prescott's 
tavern,  or  more  strictly  speaking,  from  the  south  end  of  the  carriage 


PAGE    THIRTEEN 


house  connected  with  the  tavern,  from  about  where  now  stands  the  two- 
story  wooden  building  north  of  the  road  that  leads  to  the  crutch  factory, 
then  a  grist  mill.  Thence  the  road  proceeded  down  the  stream  over  the 
land  now  occupied  by  H.  H.  Hutchinson's  saw  mill. 

The  woolen  mill  was  three  stories  high,  with  a  double  deck  attic 
and  basement,  after  the  style  of  those  days.  It  had  projecting  entries 
in  the  top  of  which  was  located  a  large  wheel  provided  with  pulley 
blocks  by  which  heavy  articles  were  raised  to  the  several  floors. 
The  roof  was  surmounted  with  a  belfry  in  which  hung  the  bell  that  now 
does  service  at  the  engine  house.  A  boarding-house  stood  in  front, 
where  now  is  the  highway  to  the  railroad  station.  This  mill  was 
operated  about  a  year  by  the  Bristol  Manufacturing  company,  in  the 
manufacture  of  cassimeres.  The  supply  of  wool  was  purchased  at 
home,  but  cotton  and  other  supplies  were  brought  by  teams  from 
Boston.  This  company  failed,  and  Henry  Kidder  and  Levi  Bartlett 
operated  the  mill  later,  but  in  all  only  about  five  years,  after  which  it 
stood  idle  for  many  years. 

The  mill  at  the  depot  being  unoccupied  became  as  much  a  target 
for  the  boys  as  the  old  chapel  on  the  turnpike.  The  lights  of  glass 
that  escaped  the  stones  thrown  by  the  youngsters  were  very  few. 
They  there  put  into  practice  the  precept  taught  at  school,  "If  at  first 
you  don't  succeed,  try,  try  again." 

The  boys  roamed  at  will  through  the  spacious  rooms  from  the 
top  attic  to  the  basement,  and  even  into  the  wheelpit,  and  into  the 
old  overshot  wheel  itself,  where  a  dozen  boys  would  climb  on  the  inside 
to  near  the  top.  The  wheel  would  commence  to  turn  and  give  the-  boys 
a  ride  till  the  center  of  gravity  was  again  at  the  bottom.  The  press- 
boards  left  in  the  old  mill  supplied  the  people  of  the  town  for  years 
with  "pasteboard"  from  which  to  make  fans,  and  gome  of  the  boys 
ventured  out  upon  the  roof  perilously  near  the  eaves  high  above  the 
seething  waters,  and  there  gathered  in  some  of  the  lead  on  the  roof 
for  their  bullet  moulds. 


PAGE    FOURTEEN 


CHAPTER  II 
SCHOOL  AND  WORK 


The  old  red  schoolhouse  on  Lake  street  was  the  only  one  in  this 
village  when  it  went  up  in  smoke  one  night  in  the  fall  of  1848.  Here 
scholars  of  all  ages  were  gathered  together,  and  all  kinds  of  books 
were  used  and  all  kinds  of  teachers  ruled,  some  with  the  rod  of  iron. 
Reuben  Rollins  ruled  here,  as  well  as  elsewhere  where  he  taught,  with 
the  rod,  but  did  not  always  come  off  victorious.  There  were  several 
young  men  in  the  school  nearly  as  heavy  as  he,  and  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  attempted  to  chastise  one  with  a  rod,  he  was  leveled  to  the 
floor  with  a  stick  of  wood.  Others  came  to  the  assistance  of  the 
scholar,  while  the  teacher  fought  his  battle  alone.  When  the  teacher 
had  sufficiently  recovered  to  appear  in  court  a  few  days  later,  there 
was  a  trial  at  the  Prescott  tavern,  but  only  one  scholar  of  the  three  or 
four  wanted  appeared;  the  rest  had  gone  west  to  grow  up  with  the 
country,  and  all  became  prominent  railroad  men. 

From  the  ashes  of  one  schoolhouse  arose  three — one  on  the  site 
of  the  old;  one  on  Summer  street,  later  the  residence  of  R.  S.  Danforth, 
and  one  between  South  Main  and  High  streets,  now  the  home  of 
Benjamin  C.  Gray.  If  some  of  the  unruly  kind  went  west,  others 
grew  to  take  their  places  when  other  teachers  took  the  place  of  Rollins, 
and  so  when  S.  S.  Preston  taught  on  Summer  street,  he,  like  Rollins, 
had  trouble  if  not  of  the  same  kind.  An  overheated  schoolroom 
always  gave  this  poor  man  the  nosebleed,  and  so  some  of  the  scholars 
delighted  to  crowd  the  stoves  with  wood  during  the  noon  hour,  with 
the  sure  effect  of  having  an  exhibition  in  the  afternoon.  For  a  meager 
compensation  this  poor  man  worked  hard  seven  days  in  the  week. 
He  taught  school  five  days  and  a  half,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  he  was 
scouring  the  woods  for  good  stout  withes  to  use  on  his  scholars. 
On  one  occasion  one  of  the  older  boys  drew  on  the  wall  of  the  school- 
room the  picture  of  a  man  having  the  nosebleed  and  wrote  under  it  the 
name,  "Old  Preston."  When  Preston  entered  the  room  and  saw  the 
fine  work  of  the  artist,  his  wrath  was  excited.  He  went  at  once  to  the 
vacant  second  entry,  where  he  stored  his  withes,  and  selected  his 
best — one  more  than  ten  feet  long.     This  he  drew  over  the  hot  coals 


PAGE    FIFTEEN 


and  then  called  in  the  scholars — for,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  not  a 
scholar  was  in  the  room  when  he  entered.  He  brought  the  offender 
into  the  floor,  removed  his  coat  and  vest  and  applied  the  rod,  gradually 
walking  up  to  his  victim  as  he  used  up  the  withe.  This  the  culprit 
endured  without  flinching,  but  a  few  days  later  when  he  again  stood  in 
the  floor  for  another  breach  of  the  rules  and  was  ordered  to  hold  out 
his  hand  for  a  ferruling,  he  refused,  and  the  master  promptly  struck 
him  on  the  side  of  his  head  with  the  ferrule,  laying  him  senseless  on  the 
floor.  Such  scenes  as  these  would  not  be  tolerated  in  any  school 
to-day,  but  they  then  only  afforded  food  for  gossip. 

The  young  folks  of  this  village  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  like  those 
of  to-day,  delighted  in  taking  part  in  theatricals.  The  hall  where 
these  entertainments  were  usually  held  was  in  the  attic  of  White's 
block  which  at  that  time  had  a  pitched  roof.  The  hall  was  small, 
lighted  by  two  windows  in  the  west  gable  end  and  poorly  ventilated. 
I  remember  attending  there  a  representation  of  scenes  from  the  life  of 
William  Tell,  when  the  apple  was  shot  from  the  head  of  the  son  by  the 
said  William.  Moody  O.  Edgerly  was  William  Tell,  and  Fred  H. 
Bartlett  the  son.  Others,  I  think,  were  William  C.  Lovejoy,  M.  W. 
White,  Charles  R  Currier,  and  Charles  Chase.  The  gay  uniforms  and 
costumes  were  simply  entrancing.  The  hall  was  densely  packed,  and 
the  orchestra  found  it  impossible  to  keep  their  violins  at  the  proper 
pitch  in  the  varying  temperature.  To  admit  a  breath  of  fresh  air  the 
windows  in  the  west  end,  all  there  were,  would  be  raised  and  as  often 
as  this  was  done  some  of  the  strings  of  the  violins  would  snap,  which 
did  not  add  to  the  quality  of  the  music. 

At  another  time  a  traveling  showman  gave  an  entertainment 
here  with  a  magic  lantern.  This  lantern  was  the  predecessor  of  the 
modern  stereopticon,  and  was  thought  to  be  a  great  affair.  The  young 
folks  roared  at  the  man  in  bed  asleep  who  swallowed  rat  after  rat  as 
they  walked  into  his  mouth.  The  proprietor  of  this  show  was  Wm. 
Bebee  Lightning,  an  Englishman,  a  local  preacher,  who  had  formerly 
deserted  from  the  British  army.  He  was  entertained  at  my  father's 
home,  and  as  my  father,  when  a  boy,  was  a  deserter*  from  the  British 
navy,  two  congenial  spirits  met.  I  listened  with  great  interest  to 
recitals  of  their  experience  in  the  British  service  and  shuddered  as 
they  talked  of  the  "floggings"  they  had  witnessed,  then  common  in 
that  service  as  a  form  of  discipline. 

White's  hall  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Sons  of  Temperance. 
They  sought  to  interest  the  boys  in  the  subject  of  temperance  and 
had   meetings    for  their   special   benefit,   but   unfortunately   the   janitor 


*  See  chapter  at  the  end. 


PAGE    SIXTEEN 


of  the  hall  was  austere  and  severe  in  dealing  with  the  boys  and  did 
more  to  drive  them  from  the  hall  than  the  most  attractive  program  did 
to  hold  them.  I  remember  one  occasion  when  a  goodly  number  of 
boys  had  gathered  early,  one  cut  up  a  prank  that  set  all  the  rest 
laughing,  and  the  janitor  bore  down  on  them  so  hard  that  the  boys 
vacated  the  hall  in  a  body,  and  when  the  speaker  arrived,  he  found 
only  empty  seats. 

This  same  man,  a  trustee  of  the  Methodist  church,  was  delegated 
by  the  official  board  of  the  church  to  stop  the  playing  of  ball  in  front 
of  the  church  on  Spring  street.  The  next  day  the  boys  while  playing 
"three-year-old-cat"  were  visited  by  this  official,  who  took  down  the 
names  of  all  engaged  in  the  play  and  then  threatened  dire  punishment 
on  any  who  ventured  to  play  there  again.  He  stopped  the  game  but 
secured  the  ill  will  of  the  boys,  which  was  not  necessary. 

Career  of  John  S.  Emmons 

In  1848  the  career  of  John  S.  Emmons  threw  this  section  into 
great  excitement  and  sense  of  insecurity.  John  S.  Emmons  was  the 
son  of  Aaron  Emmons,  a  poor  but  hardworking,  honest  man,  who 
resided  on  Spring  street,  where  later  was  erected  the  Methodist  church. 
At  one  time  he  carried  on  the  business  of  a  clothier,  where  now  is  the 
grist  mill  of  C.  N.  Merrill  &  Son  on  Central  street,  where  he  had  a 
carding  machine  which  carded  the  wool  into  rolls  for  the  women  to  spin. 
He  also  had  a  fulling  mill  to  finish  the  cloth  after  it  had  been  woven 
at  their  homes,  and  several  looms  where  weaving  was  done,  an  entering 
wedge  of  an  industry  that  was  to  drive  the  weaving  of  all  cloth  from 
the  home  to  the  mill.  Mr.  Emmons  later  lived  in  the  Kelley  tavern 
house,  later  known  as  the  Fisk  house  and  now  owned  by  Dr.  J.  W. 
Coolidge,  at  the  corner  of  Central  square  and  Summer  street,  and  here 
he  resided  in  1848.  In  18431  the  son,  John  S.,  forged  the  name  of  his 
uncle,  John  Emmons,  of  Alexandria,  to  a  note  of  $100.  He  was 
arrested  by  Deputy  Sheriff  Jeremiah  H.  Prescott,  and  in  the  evening  of 
the  same  day  went  with  the  sheriff  to  his  home  to  obtain  additional 
clothing.  While  there  he  was  allowed  to  visit  a  chamber  unattended, 
from  whence  he  promptly  took  to  the  woods  by  way  of  an  open 
window.  In^  May  following  he  was  again  arrested  and  lodged  in  the 
jail  at  Haverhill.  From  this  institution  he  soon  after  escaped  and 
went  to  Massachusetts,  where  he  pursued  a  career  of  crime,  and  served 
short  terms  of  imprisonment  in  Lowell  and  Cambridge.  In  1848, 
he  returned  to  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood  and  was  the  terror  of  this 
whole  section  for  months.     He  lived  in  the  woods  and  at  night  made 


PAGE   SEVENTEEN 


visits  to  the  stores  and  cellars  of  this  village  and  appropriated  whatever 
he  desired  to  supply  his  larder,  besides  milking  cows  in  the  pasture  and 
taking  produce  from  the  gardens.  Locks  and  bars  were  insufficient  to 
keep  him  out,  and  hardly  a  day  passed  that  did  not  add  to  the  tales  of 
his  depredations  and  the  excitement  of  the  people.  We  well  remember 
how  carefully  every  door  and  window  was  barred  at  night  and  how 
often  our  sleep  was  disturbed  with  dreams  of  the  desperado.  His 
boldness  was  proverbial.  On  one  occasion  the  merchants  of  the 
village  agreed  to  spend  the  night  in  their  stores  and  watch  for 
Emmons.  At  that  time  J.  N.  Darling  had  a  clothing  store,  where 
now  is  Fowler's  drug  store,  and  Joseph  Rollins  a  grocery  store,  next  on 
the  north.  Soon  after  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Rollins  saw  a  man  at  work 
on  the  shutters  of  Darling's  store,  and  thinking  it  was  Mr.  Darling 
closing  up  for  the  night  he  walked  along  and  attempted  conversation, 
when  John   S.   Emmons   hastily  left  and  disappeared  over  the  bridge. 

That  summer  the  village  school  which  I  attended  was  in  a  hall 
in  the  second  story  of  what  is  now  a  double  tenement  house  at  the  cor- 
ner of  South  Main  and  Beech  streets.  I  well  remember  how  the 
scholars  were  thrown  into  great  excitement  early  one  afternoon  by 
carriages  dashing  past  filled  with  armed  men.  Other  armed  men 
crossed  the  bridge  on  foot  and  made  their  way  into  the  fields  toward 
the  woods  in  the  west.  It  seemed  that  Emmons  had  made  his 
appearance  in  the  open  at  the  base  of  Round  Top,  and  this  fact 
coming  to  the  knowledge  of  the  sheriff,  he  promptly  appropriated 
the  arms  of  the  militia  company  in  this  village,  and  every  man  fit 
for  duty  as  he  appeared  in  Central  Square  was  commanded  in  the 
name  of  the  state  to  take  a  musket  and  become  one  of  a  sheriff's  posse 
for  the  capture  of  the  outlaw.  Those  in  teams  were  dispatchd  to 
Smith's  river  and  stationed  along  the  road  on  the  north  bank  of  that 
stream,  while  those  on  foot  were  to  follow  him  from  the  north. 
In  fact  he  was  surrounded  and  his  capture  was  thought  to  be  sure. 
Emmons  saw  his  pursuers  after  him  and  made  his  way  to  the  south, 
keeping  a  safe  distance  ahead  but  occasionally  sitting  down  to  rest  and 
watch  his  pursuers.  Finally  he  reached  Smith's  river  and  made  a 
break  for  the  high  bridge  over  that  stream,  where  a  guard  of  two  men 
had  been  posted.  These  two  men  saw  Emmons  approaching  and 
promptly  took  refuge  under  the  bridge,  while  the  fugitive  crossed  the 
bridge  unmolested  and  disappeared  in  the  woods  on  the  side  of 
Periwig  mountain.  The  pursuit  was  called  off,  and  the  sheriff's 
posse  returned  to  town. 

Only  a  short  time  after  this  Josiah  S.  Ingalls,  who  was  one  of 
the  sheriff's  posse  and  a  former  schoolmate  of  Emmons,  was  working 
alone  one  evening  in  the  cabinet  shop  of  Washington   Ingalls,  which 

PAGE    EIGHTEEN 


stood  where  is  now  the  planing  mill  of  B.  L.  &  Albro  Wells,  when 
in  walked  Emmons.  He  took  a  seat  as  if  entirely  at  ease  and  for  an 
hour  talked  of  village  affairs,  of  his  old  schoolmates  and  of  his 
escapades.  He  said  he  was  back  in  Bristol  village  on  the  evening  of 
the  day  he  was  pursued  and  laughed  over  the  sudden  disappearance 
of  the  guard  at  the  high  bridge.  This  interview  over,  he  coolly  turned 
the  collar  of  his  coat  over  his  face  and  walked  out  into  the  darkness. 
Soon  after  this,  Emmons  was  arrested  in  Keene  for  some  crime 
committed  in  that  section  and  was  sentenced  to  the  New  Hampshire 
state  prison  for  five  years  and  ten  days  from  April  4,  1851.  After 
having  served  this  term  he  again  made  his  way  to  Massachusetts, 
where  he  continued  his  career  of  crime,  and  report  said  that  he  died 
in    the    Massachusetts    state   prison   at    Charlestown 


In  1850  there  were  many  small  manufacturing  industries  in 
this  village.  On  the  south  side  of  the  river  there  were  the  grist  mill 
operated  by  Trueworthy  G.  Currier,  and  the  saw  mill  operated  when 
there  was  sufficient  water.  On  the  north  side  were  the  tannery  of 
Warren  White,  the  Ingalls  wheelwright  shop  and  Abbott  Lovejoy's 
edge  tool  manufactory,  with  a  little  mill  for  grinding  black  lead 
in  the  rear.  Where  is  now  the  grist  mill  on  Central  street  was  a 
clothing  mill,  and  where  is  now  the  shoe  shop  was  the  planing  mill 
of  House  &  Locke.  On  the  river  bank  on  the  east  corner  of  what  is 
now  the  library  lot  were  the  potash  works  of  Ichabod  C.  Bartlett, 
where  large  quantities  of  ashes  were  purchased,  the  lye  extracted, 
boiled  down  and  sent  to  market  in  a  solid  state.  Near  "Brown's 
bridge"  on  Pleasant  street  was  Brown's  tannery,  then  going  to  decay. 
Here  Mr.  Brown  had  operated  a  tannery  for  many  years,  ground  his 
bark  by  wind  power  and  done  all  the  rest  of  the  work  by  hand. 
On  Lake  street,  near  the  junction  of  Willow,  Joshua  Kendall  had 
erected  a  saw  mill,  and  to  this  place  Mr.  Brown  removed,  converting 
the  saw  mill  into  a  tannery.  Adjoining  was  the  pill-box  shop  of  Tucker 
&  Weymouth,  where  vast  quantities  of  wooden  pill-boxes  were  turned 
out.  Later,  a  satinet  factory  occupied  the  site  of  the  present  pulp  mill 
on  Willow  street.  At  North  Bristol  the  saw  mills,  grist  mill,  cabinet- 
shops  and  woolen  mill  made  a  busy  community  that  rivaled  Bristol  vil- 
lage. Another  busy  mart  of  manufacture  and  trade  was  at  Moore's  mill 
and  still  another  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  now  known  as  South 
Bristol. 

A  business  that  contributed  to  the  general  prosperity  of  the  place 
was  the  shoe-shop  of  Warren  White  in  the  second  story  of  White's 
block.  Here  a  dozen  men  were  sometimes  employed  making  boots 
and  shoes  for  the  wholesale  trade.     Among  the  workmen  was  a   Mr. 


PAGE    NINETEEN 


Webster,  a  deaf  mute.  He  was  a  fine  workman  but  irascible  and 
sensitive,  and  he  therefore  placed  his  bench  in  a  corner  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  other  workmen.  The  rats,  in  their  fancy  for  paste, 
were  a  constant  annoyance.  One  morning  a  dead  rat  was  taken  from 
a  trap  by  one  of  the  workmen  and  then  placed  on  Webster's  bench 
as  though  in  the  act  of  eating  paste.  A  few  minutes  later  Webster 
walked  in;  he  saw  the  rat,  and  fire  flashed  from  his  eye.  Catching  up 
the  iron  poker,  he  approached  his  bench  stealthily  and  then  dealt 
a  blow  that  sent  the  rat  and  the  paste  pot  flying  in  a  thousand 
pieces  about  the  room,  and  brought  out  shouts  of  laughter  from  the 
other  workmen,  and  a  pantomime  of  wrath  from  Webster. 

Here,  too,  Samuel  Heath,  another  workman,  was  the  victim  of 
his  fellow  workmen.  Kerosene  oil,  at  $1.25  per  gallon,  was  then 
making  its  first  appearance,  and  Mr.  White  had  secured  some  with  the 
necessary  lamps  for  the  accommodation  of  his  help.  Mr.  Heath 
purchased  a  lamp  and  enough  oil  to  fill  it,  and  after  viewing  the  clear 
fine  light  with  much  satisfaction,  he  set  the  lamp  one  side  till  he 
should  finish  his  work  for  the  day.  In  the  meantime  someone 
substituted  water  for  the  oil,  and  when  Mr.  Heath  reached  his  home 
and  attempted  to  show  his  people  the  beauties  of  the  new  light,  his 
efforts  were   a   dismal  failure. 

In  those  days  Washington  Ingalls  had  a  cabinet  shop  where  is 
now  the  planing  mill  of  B.  L.  Wells  &  Co.  When  a  death  occurred 
in  the  community,  day  or  night,  this  man  hastened  to  his  shop  and 
made  to  order  a  pine  coffin  of  suitable  size,  which  was  given  a  coating 
of  stain  in  great  haste  that  it  might  be  dry  in  season  for  use.  The 
coffin  containing  the  dead  was  carried  to  the  grave  on  a  bier  over 
which  was  spread  a  pall.  The  first  proposition  to  have  a  hearse  made 
was  the  occasion  of  a  warm  discussion  at  town  meeting.  Col.  Sam.  T. 
W.  Sleeper  was  the  chief  speaker  against  the  measure,  while 
it  was  advocated  by  Abbott  Lovejoy.  Sleeper  argued  that  an  ox  sled 
or  cart  was  good  enough  to  carry  him  to  the  grave,  to  which 
Lovejoy  retorted  that  he  quite  agreed  with  him  on  that  point,  but 
that  decent  people  wanted  to  be  carried  to  the  grave  in  a  decent 
conveyance. 

I  well  remember  a  discussion  that  occurred  in  town  meeting  over 
a  motion  that  the  town  erect  a  marble  slab  to  mark  the  last  resting 
place  of  a  Revolutionary  hero,  Tom  Fuller.  "Col."  Tom,  as  he  was 
familiarly  called,  had  made  an  honorable  record  in  the  Revolutionary 
war,  serving  several  terms,  and  at  the  close  of  the  war  settled  on 
New  Chester  mountain  in  what  was  then  New  Chester,  now  Bristol. 
He  was  poor  and  for  fear  that  he  would  become  a  public  charge  the 
authorities,  after  the  custom  of  those  days,  warned  him  to  leave  town, 


PAGE    TWENTY 


and  thus  prevented  his  gaining  a  legal  residence.  He  married  a  woman 
24  years  his  senior.  She  was  a  superior  weaver,  always  industrious; 
the  colonel  was  good  natured,  a  great  wag  and  to  his  last  days 
delighted  in  playing  jokes  on  his  neighbors.  He  contributed  to  the 
expenses  of  the  household  his  pension  of  $8  per  month  and  occasionally 
a  dollar  earned  by  peddling.  He  died  in  1819,  at  the  age  of  73  years, 
and  tender  hands  bore  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  old  hero  from  his 
humble  cabin  on  the  west  side  of  the  old  road  over  the  mountain  to 
the  little  burying  ground  on  the  east  side.  The  discussion  spoken  of 
above  occurred  thirty-five  years  after  his  decease.  Some  opposed 
the  motion  to  erect  the  tablet  at  his  grave  solely  on  the  ground  that 
"Col"  Tom  was  intemperate.  But  the  motion  prevailed  and  the  marble 
slab  was  erected  and  now  stands  at  his  grave,  and  on  it  we  read  that 
his  widow  died  Dec.  13,  1824,  aged  103  years. 

Speaking  of  Tom  Fuller's  wife  recalls  a  story  I  heard  from  the 
lips  of  those  advanced  in  life  when  I  was  young.  Rev.  Enoch 
Whipple,  who  was  installed  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  church 
in  Alexandria  in  1785,  and  Dr.  Timothy  Kelley,  a  Revolutionary 
soldier  and  the  first  practicing  physician  in  Bristol  village,  were 
warm  friends  and  did  some  evangelistic  work  in  this  town  before 
there  was  a  religious  organization  within  its  limits.  In  those  days 
nearly  everybody  believed  in  a  literal  hell  presided  over  by  a  personal 
devil,  and  so  did  these  two  good  men.  One  day  they  made  a  call  on 
Mrs.  Fuller,  who  was,  as  usual,  at  work  at  the  loom.  Mrs.  Fuller  was 
evidently  embarrassed  by  the  presence  of  her  distinguished  callers. 
She  did  not  invite  them  into  the  parlor  for  she  had  none,  and  so  she 
continued  to  ply  the  shuttle  while  they  talked.  The  conversation 
soon  took  a  religious  turn  and  the  doctor  said,  "Are  you  a  Christian, 
Mrs.  Fuller?"  Mrs.  Fuller  gave  an  extra  snap  to  her  shuttle  and 
replied,  "I  dunno.  I  dunno."  "Well!  you  want  to  be  a  Christian, 
don't  you,  Mrs.  Fuller?"  "I  dunno.  I  dunno."  "Don't  you  want 
to  go  to  Heaven  when  you  die,  Mrs.  Fuller?"  "I  dunno.  I  dunno." 
To  every  question  the  same  answer  was  made  and  the  embarrassed 
woman  sent  the  shuttle  a  little  more  spitefully  on  its  course.  Finally 
the  doctor  lost  his  patience  and  rising  from  his  chair  said,  "Well!  go 
to  hell  and  be  damned  if  you  want  to.     I  don't  care." 

At  14  years  of  age  I  commenced  to  work  in  the  paper-mill  of 
Dow  &  Mason  at  $8  per  month.  I  paid  my  mother  $1.50  per  week 
for  board  and  thus  had  $2  per  month  left  with  which  to  clothe  myself. 
Winters  I  attended  school.  Two  years  later  I  went  to  Franklin  Falls 
and  worked  in  the  stone  hosiery  mill  there.  Though  the  wages  were 
small  I  managed  to  support  myself  and  save  a  few  dollars  with  which 
I  hoped  some  day  to  attend  the  seminary  at   Sanbornton   Bridge,  now 


PAGE    TWENTY-ONE 


Tilton.  I  remember  that  one  Sunday,  with  the  thoughts  of  school 
in  my  mind,  I  walked  to  Sanbornton  Bridge  to  look  at  the  school 
buildings.  I  had  pictured  in  my  mind  an  elegant  set  of  buildings, 
and  when  I  came  to  see  the  small  edifice  then  standing  on  the 
Northfield  side  of  the  river,  my  admiration  fell  several  degrees,  but  not 
m}r  desire  to  enter  its  halls  as  a  pupil.  I  strolled  through  the  village, 
and,  while  gazing  at  the  river  from  the  bridge,  the  Rev.  Silas  Quimby, 
on  his  way  to  preach  in  the  old  Methodist  church  on  the  Northfield 
side,  invited  me  to  go  to  church  with  him,  and  so  I  had  a  seat  in  the 
minister's  pew  and  remember  to  this  day  the  fine  singing  I  heard  but 
can  recall  nothing  of  the  sermon.  My  visit  to  the  town  that  day  only 
strengthened  my  desire  to  attend  school  there. 

On  the  Farm 

The  summer  of  1856,  I  worked  on  the  Whittemore  farm  in  Bridge- 
water.  I  had  heard  so  much  about  the  healthfulness  of  life  and  labor  on 
the  farm  that  I  fancied  one  season  there  would  develop  the  muscle  and 
make  sure  the  health  of  a  person  for  a  lifetime,  but  experience  taught 
me  that  even  with  pure  air  to  breathe  one  has  a  limit  to  his  endurance 
and  that  the  best  environments  are  not  sufficient  to  protect  one  who  goes 
beyond  the  limit  of  his  strength.  In  my  case,  the  advantages  of  the 
farm  were  more  than  counterbalanced  by  more  hours  of  hard  work  than 
I  was  equal  to.  I  now  look  back  on  those  months  of  incessant  grind  with 
almost  a  shudder  and  wonder  that  I  did  not  collapse  under  the  strain. 
No  ten-hour  law  or  custom  regulated  the  labor  on  the  farm  in  those 
days.  Up  in  the  morning  with  the  sun,  there  were  milking  the  cows, 
feeding  the  hogs  and  doing  the  chores,  or  an  hour's  work  in  the  cornfield 
or  hayfield  before  breakfast.  Breakfast  over,  the  only  rest  of  the  day 
came,  for  the  good  man  of  the  house  had  family  prayers,  and  the  read- 
ing of  the  Bible  and  prayers  occupied  full  fifteen  minutes.  In  plant- 
ing, hoeing  or  mowing  I  had  tools  as  heavy  as  a  man's  and  I  was 
expected  to  keep  up  with  the  rest.  Darkness  usually  came  ere  the 
milking  and  chores  were  completed,  and  I  retired,  too  tired  to  enjoy 
peaceful  rest,  but  all  too  soon  I  was  shaken  by  a  firm  hand  and  told 
by  a  half-pitying  voice  that  it  was  time  to  get  up.  I  remember  one 
day's  experience  in  particular.  After  breakfast  I  went  with  the  man 
of  the  house  on  to  the  road  to  work,  where  I  earned  my  employer  a 
man's  wages.  We  ate  our  dinner  from  the  pail,  by  the  wayside,  but 
we  were  at  work  for  the  town,  so  a  whole  hour  was  devoted  to  dinner 
or  rest,  and  discussing  the  attack  of  Brooks  on  Chas.  Sumner  in  the 
U.  S.  Senate  which  had  just  occurred.  The  work  was  new,  and  I  went 
"home"  that  night  particularly  tired.  Darkness  came  as  usual  ere  the 
work  was  done,  and  I  gladly  entered  the  house,  thinking  that  my  work 


PAGE    TWENTY-TWO 


was  over  for  the  day.  A  tallow  candle  was  burning  on  the  table,  which 
gave  just  about  enough  light  so  that  one  could  walk  across  the  floor 
without  treading  on  the  cat.  Near  the  door  sat  the  grandmother  churn- 
ing, using  an  old  fashioned,  tall,  round  churn  with  a  dasher  and  handle 
which  was  worked  up  and  down.  I  had  hardly  taken  a  seat  when  the 
grandmother,  with  a  sigh,  ceased  to  work,  and  said,  "Perhaps  Richard 
will  help  us  a  little."  Well,  Richard  helped  a  little,  and  his  "little" 
consisted  in  churning  till  the  cream  was  turned  into  butter,  and  no  one 
thought  he  could  be  tired.     At  least  no  one  offered  to  help  him. 

In  March,  1857,  my  brother  William  was  employed  by  a  Mr.  Green- 
leaf  to  go  to  Watertown,  Mass.,  and  put  in  operation  there  some  knit- 
ting machinery.  He  took  with  him  a  half  dozen  hands  who  had  had 
experience  in  the  knitting  mill  at  Franklin  and  I,  as  one,  went  with  him 
to  operate  the  knitters.  The  great  financial  crisis  of  that  year  closed 
this  business  in  August,  and  I  returned  home  and  soon  after  again 
found  myself  at  work  on  Bridgewater  Point,  this  time  for  Peter  Whit- 
temore  on  his  farm,  where  I  remained  some  three  months.  In  Novem- 
ber, Mr.  Greenleaf  resumed  business  in  Franklin,  my  brother  William 
again  in  charge,  and  my  brother  Abbott  and  I  worked  for  him  and 
boarded  at  Moses  Burbank's.  My  sister  Sara  was,  at  this  time,  a  stu- 
dent at  Sanbornton  Bridge,  and  during  the  winter  Abbott  and  I  visited 
her  occasionally. 

Work  again  failed,  or  Mr.  Greenleaf  did,  in  the  early  months  of 
1858,  and,  taking  what  few  dollars  I  had  accumulated  during  the  year, 
I  started  for  school  at  Sanbornton  Bridge.  My  sister  Sara  and  I 
boarded  ourselves  and,  with  some  assistance  from  home  in  the  line  of 
pastry  for  the  table,  we  managed  to  live  on  a  very  small  sum  per  week. 
The  few  dollars  I  took  with  me  were  made  to  extend  during  the  term 
by  earnings — sawing  wood,  building  fires,  and  doing  such  odd  jobs  as 
I  was  able  to  obtain.  The  summer  found  me  again  at  work  in  the 
paper  mill  and  the  following  winter  again  at  school,  under  the  same 
circumstances.  The  expenditure  of  every  cent  was  carefully  considered 
before  an  investment  was  made  even  for  the  necessaries  of  life.  At  the 
close  of  one  term  I  found  myself  unexpectedly  with  nearly  two  dollars 
left,  after  paying  all  expenses,  whereas  I  did  not  expect  to  have  more 
than  enough  to  pay  my  fare  home.  I  was  so  much  elated  at  my  unex- 
pected affluence  that  I  at  once  indulged  in  an  oyster  supper  and  in  other 
ways  celebrated,  so  that  I  reduced  my  surplus  nearly  one  half.  The 
last  day  of  the  term  brought  my  mother  and  Mrs.  J.  Darling  to  San- 
bornton. One  of  the  first  questions  Mrs.  Darling  asked  me  was  if  I 
had  paid  to  the  person  she  named  the  two  dollars  she  gave  me  the  last 
time  I  was  at  home.  With  that  question  the  truth  flashed  upon  me.  I 
had  been  carrying  $2  that  did  not  belong  to  me  and  had  even  spent 
more  than  half  of  it  and  then  had  no  means  to  make  restitution.     I 

PAGE    TWENTY-THREE 


acknowledged  my  predicament,  and  the  good  woman,  with  a  laugh,  told 
me  not  to  worry  about  it  and  that  she  would  be  entirely  satisfied  if  I 
repaid  her  at  my  convenience.  This  debt  I  discharged  with  the  first 
money  I  earned  after  my  defalcation. 

Between  the  time  of  my  first  visit  to  Sanbornton  Bridge  and  my 
enrollment  as  a  student,  the  first  seminary  building  erected  on  the 
Northfield  side  had  given  way  to  a  large  modern  brick  building  of  three 
stories,  having  a  main  building  and  two  wings,  so  that  my  school  days 
there  commenced  in  the  new  building.  Compared  with  the  present 
Tilton  Seminary  buildings,  the  new  building  lacked  many  of  the  modern 
comforts  and  conveniences.  Then  it  satisfied  all  the  requirements  of 
the  day  and  was  a  great  blessing  to  all  who  attended. 

Aside  from  the  hard  work  that  straitened  circumstances  required, 
my  school  days  did  not  differ  materially  from  those  of  the  average 
student.  I  entered  into  all  branches  of  school  life  with  a  desire  to  reap 
the  greatest  possible  benefit  and  so,  whether  I  worked  or  studied  or 
played,  whether  in  the  recitation  room  or  at  the  meetings  of  the  U.  P. 
society,  the  ultimate  result  to  be  attained  was  the  leading  incentive  for 
action.  There  were  no  spare  moments;  all  were  utilized.  And,  indeed, 
they  had  to  count,  for  with  the  hours  devoted  to  work  I  had  to  be  very 
diligent  indeed  to  keep  up  in  my  studies  with  my  schoolmates  who  were 
more  fortunate  financially,  and,  as  I  thought,  keener  in  intellect  than  I. 


PAGE    TWENTY-FOUR 


CHAPTER  III 
PREPARING  FOR  WAR 


I  continued  to  attend  school  winters  and  work  summers  till  the 
close  of  the  spring  term  of  1862.  My  purpose  was  to  fit  for  college 
at  this  institution  and  then  enter  Middletown,  or  some  other  college. 
Although  the  difficulties  in  the  way  were  great,  no  other  thought  than 
that  I  should  succeed  entered  my  mind  for  a  moment.  During  these 
years  the  American  people  were  being  prepared  for  the  great  national 
struggle  that  was  looming  in  awful  proportions  from  the  south.  I  little 
realized  then  that  the  humble  part  I  was  to  play  in  the  great  struggle 
would  turn  the  whole  current  of  my  life  and  blast  my  ambition,  but 
such  was  the  case. 

The  discussion  of  the  great  crime  of  slavery  entered  into  every 
phase  of  society  life,  and  interest  increased  with  the  passing  years. 
The  debates  in  Congress,  platform  and  pulpit  efforts,  and  the  press  of 
the  day  kept  the  public  conscience'  at  fever  heat.  In  our  society  meet- 
ings at  the  seminary  some  phase  of  national  affairs  was  each  week  dis- 
cussed, and  extracts  from  the  orations  of  the  great  masters  were  no 
longer  used  for  declamations,  but  extracts  from  Wendell  Phillips, 
William  Lloyd  Garrison,  and  Charles  Sumner  on  the  great  crime  of 
slavery. 

The  excitement  of  the  political  campaign  of  1860  can  hardly  be  con- 
ceived of  at  the  present  day,  and  the  months  following  the  election  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  brought  only  gloom  and  apprehension,  as  preparations 
for  the  great  struggle  went  on.  Application  to  study  under  such  circum- 
stances was  well  nigh  impossible. 

One  by  one  the  southern  states  passed  ordinances  of  secession.  The 
first  of  February,  1861,  the  papers  announced  the  withdrawal  of  Texas 
from  the  Union,  when  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Middleton,  who  was 
a  student  at  Tilton  from  that  state,  announced  that  he  was  then  a  res- 
ident of  a  foreign  nation.  This  called  forth  indignant  retorts  from  my- 
self and  others  that  were  not  complimentary  to  him  or  his  state,  where- 
upon he  attempted  to  draw  a  revolver.  This  action  caused  such  a  dem- 
onstration among  the  boys  present  that  he  was  soon  convinced  that  the 
wisest  course  for  him  was  to  keep  his  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

PAGE    TWENTY-FIVE 


When  on  the  12th  day  of  April,  1861,  the  fact  that  Sumter  had 
been  fired  upon  was  flashed  over  the  wires,  the  North  rose  as  one  man. 
The  people  gave  themselves  over  to  demonstrations  of  patriotism.  Mass 
meetings  were  held,  martial  music  was  heard  in  every  town,  and  recruit- 
ing for  the  army  went  on  faster  than  the  volunteers  could  be  organized. 
At  Tilton  a  mass  meeting  was  held  in  Seminary  hall;  the  Franklin  Band 
furnished  music,  and  many  patriotic  addresses  were  made.  With  few 
exceptions  the  people  were  a  unit  in  favor  of  forcibly  preventing  any 
state  from  withdrawing  from  the  Union,  and  yet  underneath  all  the 
excitement  and  enthusiasm  deep  gloom  rested  on  the  people,  as  they  saw 
preparations  for  war  going  on.  But  few  caught  more  than  a  glimpse  of 
the  immensity  of  the  struggle  ahead.  One  public  man,  thought  to  be 
more  extravagant  than  any  other,  was  quoted  as  saying  that  the  Union 
was  worth  the  expenditure  of  50,000  lives.  The  sentiment  was  quoted 
by  the  daily  press  in  display  type;  by  some  to  show  how  the  judgment 
of  a  great  man  could  be  warped  in  times  of  great  excitement,  and  by 
others  to  show  the  value  of  the  Union.  But  more  than  8  times  50,000 
men  were  sacrificed  to  prevent  the  disintegration  of  the  nation.  Little 
did  the  vision  of  even  the  most  farseeing  grasp  the  immensity  of  the 
sacrifice  required. 

The  Big  Fire 

The  summer  of  1861  found  me  again  at  work  in  the  paper  mill  on 
Willow  Street.  As  the  Fourth  of  July  approached  some  of  the  boys  sug- 
gested the  hanging  of  Jeff  Davis  in  effigy  on  the  Fourth,  as  a  diversion. 
Accordingly  an  image  was  made  and  duly  hung  on  the  flag  staff  in 
Central  Square  on  the  evening  of  July  third.  This  image  was  clothed, 
including  boots,  with  clothes  left  by  workmen  at  the  paper  mill.  At 
three  o'clock  the  next  morning  commenced  the  greatest  conflagration  in 
the  history  of  Bristol.  The  entire  west  side  of  Central  Square  was 
swept  away.  As  the  fire  lit  up  the  square,  there  hung  the  effigy  of  Jeff 
Davis;  and  the  clothes  and  boots  he  wore,  all  covered  with  lime,  plainly 
disclosed  where  this  man  had  been  put  together.  This  fact,  under  ordi- 
nary circumstances,  would  not  have  occasioned  any  regrets,  but  now 
the  authors  did  not  enjoy  their  identity  being  known,  because  the  fire 
had  not  half  finished  its  work  ere  the  boys  were  accused  of  being  the 
cause  of  it  all,  and  Jeff  Davis  told  who  some  of  the  boys  were.  Gossip 
was  wild  for  a  few  days  and  there  was  talk  of  a  town  meeting  to  see 
what  could  be  done  with  the  boys,  and  it  was  charged  in  the  leading 
state  paper  published  in  Concord  that  the  fire  was  caused  by  a  fireball 
being  thrown  by  a  boy  through  a  window  into  one  of  the  buildings. 
There  was  no  truth  in  this  account  of  the  origin  of  the  fire,  but,  of 
course,  the  story  told  by  the  boys  was  not,  for  a  long  time,  believed.     I 


PAGE   TWENTY-SIX 


was  one  of  the  boys  interested  and  was  on  the  street  that  night  and 
knew  that  no  glass  was  broken,  unless  it  was  the  glass  of  the  wine- 
bibbers  in  the  basement,  where  the  fire  originated,  near  the  southeast 
corner  of  the  present  Rollins  block.  There  was  some  good  reason  to 
believe  that  dissipation  by  men  in  the  basement  named  was  the  cause  of 
the  conflagration,  but  this  was  never  known. 

At  this  fire  the  present  hand  engine  of  the  fire  department  was  used 
for  the  first  time  in  Bristol.  It  had  been  purchased  only  a  few  months 
before,  largely  through  the  efforts  of  Capt.  Geo.  W.  Dow,  and,  for  want 
of  a  better  place,  it  was  housed  in  Capt.  Dow's  carriage  house  on  Union 
street,  which  was  connected  with  his  residence  at  the  corner  of  Lake 
and  Union  streets.  At  this  fire  it  did  good  service  in  saving  adjoining 
property,  especially  the  stable  in  the  rear  of  the  buildings  burned. 


The  growth  of  Bristol  village  spoiled  much  good  coasting  ground. 
In  1862  the  only  building  west  of  South  Main  and  High  streets  was  the 
one  on  Beech  street  built,  and  occupied  then,  by  D.  P.  Prescott,  and 
this  street  was  laid  out  only  to  his  residence.  This  spring  the  snow  was 
very  deep,  covering  the  walls  and  fences,  and  so  continued  till  the  latter 
part  of  March,  or  first  of  April.  The  warm  days  and  cold  nights  made 
a  crust  so  hard  that  oxen  and  even  four-horse  coaches  could  drive  in 
safety  over  it.  Each  morning  the  crust  from  the  base  of  Round  Top, 
or  New  Chester  mountain,  was  alive  with  men  and  women,  boys  and 
girls,  enjoying  the  exhilirating  sport  of  sliding.  Some  of  the  boys, 
experts  in  handling  their  sleds,  after  riding  from  Round  Top  to  Pres- 
cott's,  would  strike  into  the  highway  at  good  speed  and  continue  their 
course  through  Central  Square  to  the  depot.  No  such  crust  sliding  has 
since  been  known  in  Bristol. 

On  the  second  day  of  July,  1862,  President  Lincoln  issued  a  call 
for  300,000  men.  There  was  no  telegraph  line  to  Bristol  in  those  days, 
and  the  news  reached  the  people  through  the  daily  press  at  5  p.  m.  on 
the  third.  I  well  remember  the  impression  it  produced.  People  were 
just  beginning  to  realize  that  all  the  resources  of  the  government  would 
be  needed  to  crush  the  rebellion,  and  were  preparing  to  nerve  them- 
selves for  the  sacrifice.  At  that  time  I  worked  at  the  paper  mill  of  Dow 
&  Mason  on  Willow  street  from  12  m.  to  12  p.  m  ,  and  I  well  remem- 
ber that  the  first  man  I  met  on  my  way  to  the  mill  that  afternoon  after 
supper  was  Capt.  Daniel  S  Mason.  His  salutation  was  "Well!  Richard, 
what  would  you  give  if  you  were  out  of  it?"  My  reply  was,  "I  would 
not  give  anything."  I  mention  this,  not  to  show  any  exceptional  patrio- 
tism on  my  part,  but  to  show  a  common  feeling  that  animated  all  or 
nearly  all  the  young  men  at  that  time.  Those  who  sought  to  evade  the 
responsibilities  of  the  hour  by  going  to  Canada  were  few  indeed  cora- 

PAGE    TWENTY-SEVEN 


pared  with  the  many  who  were  ready  to  respond  to  the  call  of  the  gov- 
ernment when  duty  seemed  to  demand  it. 

On  the  21st  of  July,  my  brother  Abbott,  who  was  at  work  in  a 
hosiery  mill  at  Cohoes,  N.  Y.,  enlisted  in  Co.  H,  115th  Regt.  N.  Y. 
Vols.,  and  came  home  to  spend  a  few  days  on  a  furlough.  These  were 
the  last  days  he  spent  at  home.  It  was  well  that  the  curtain  concealing 
the  future  was  not  lifted,  or  else  more  than  a  shadow  would  have  rested 
on  the  family  circle  during  the  brief  time  he  spent  at  home  with  us. 

On  the  4th  of  August,  Bristol  held  a  special  town  meeting  and 
voted  to  pay  all  who  should  enlist  on  the  quota  of  the  town,  before  the 
20th  of  that  month,  the  sum  of  $200. 


Abbott  Clark  Musgrove 

An  incident  of  this  meeting  is  well  remembered.  There  were  a  few 
in  town  who  were  bitterly  opposed  to  the  war.  Among  these,  one  of 
the  most  rabid  was  Abbott  Lovejoy.  He  was  opposed  to  paying  any 
bounty,  and  when  Judge  O.  F.  Fowler  moved  that  the  sum  of  $100  be 
paid  to  each  man  who  should  volunteer  on  the  quota  of  Bristol,  Mr. 
Lovejoy  promptly  moved  to  amend  by  making  the  amount  $200.  He 
thought  to  prevent  any  action  by  presenting  a  bone  of  contention.  He 
then  took  his  hat  and  started  for  home  with  the  remark,  "There  now, 
fight  over  it."  But  he  misjudged  the  spirit  of  the  meeting,  and  before 
he  reached  the  street  the  amendment  was  adopted;  and  so  Bristol  paid 
$200  to  its  volunteers  under  the  calls  of  the  president  that  year. 


PAGE    TWENTY-EIGHT 


At  that  time  Col.  George  W.  Stevens  and  Col.  Thomas  J.  Whipple, 
both  of  Laconia,  were  agitating  the  raising  of  a  regiment  from  Belknap 
county  and  neighboring  towns.  A  meeting  in  the  interest  of  the  move- 
ment was  held  at  Laconia,  July  25,  and  other  places  at  a  subsequent  date, 
and  excitement  ran  high.  The  advantages  of  belonging  to  a  regiment, 
the  companies  of  which  would  be  composed  of  men  from  adjoining 
neighborhoods,  appealed  strongly  to  the  people  of  this  section,  and  large 
numbers  signified  their  intentions  of  enlisting.  Arrangements  were 
made  with  the  state  authorities  to  allow  the  men  to  select  their  own  offi- 
cers. 

Under  this  arrangement  enlistment  papers  were  sent  out  from  the 
statehouse  on  Tuesday,  Aug.  12,  and  on  Saturday,  Aug.  16,  Gov.  Berry 
was  notified  by  Col.  Stevens  that  a  full  regiment  had  been  enlisted. 
This  fact  gave  rise  to  the  claim  that  the  12th  Regt.  was  raised  in  three 
days.  It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  nearly  all  of  these  men  had, 
during  the  ten  days  previous,  signed  a  paper  agreeing  to  enlist  as  soon 
as  the  opportunity  presented,  and  so  affixed  their  names  to  enlistment 
papers  as  soon  as  they  arrived.  Thus  the  enlistments  took  place,  or 
most  of  them,  in  three  days. 

I  well  remember  the  circumstances  of  deciding  to  join  my  fortunes 
with  the  many  others  from  Bristol,  who  were  proposing  to  enlist.  In 
Central  Square  one  day,  I  met  Alonzo  W.  Jewett.  We  sat  down  on  the 
grass  outside  the  fence  in  front  of  the  residence  of  Hon.  Samuel  K. 
Mason,  where  now  stands  the  bank  block,  and  for  half  an  hour  discussed 
the  subject  in  all  its  bearings.  Our  decision  was  to  enlist.  We  shook 
hands  and  parted,  and  Aug.  12,  within  an  hour  after  the  enlistment 
papers  reached  Bristol,  we  affixed  our  names  and  became  recruits  for  the 
United  States  army. 

Within  the  three  days  named  Blake  Fowler  enlisted  71  men,  chiefly 
from  Bristol,  Alexandria,  and  Danbury,  who  became  a  part  of  Co.  C, 
12th  Regt.,  of  which  company  Mr.  Fowler  was  chosen  captain.  David 
E.  Everett  enlisted,  chiefly  from  Bristol,  Bridgewater  and  Hebron,  43 
men,  who  became  a  part  of  Co.  D,  and  he  was  made  the  first  lieutenant 
of  that  company.  The  total  number  that  Bristol  furnished  for  the  12th 
Regt.  was  forty. 

I  cast  my  lot  with  the  recruits  of  David  E.  Everett.  These  were 
merged  with  others  enlisted  in  Hill  by  Bradbury  M.  Morrill,  and  a 
larger  number  enlisted  in  Sanbornton  by  J.  Ware  Butterfield,  a  young 
lawyer  at  Sanbornton  Bridge,  and  these  constituted  Co.  D.  A  meeting 
for  the  election  of  officers  of  Co.  D  was  held  in  the  old  chapel  at  Piper's 
mill  in  Sanbornton  a  few  days  after  our  enlistment,  but  there  is  no  fact 
or  record  that  enables  me  to  give  the  exact  date.  At  this  meeting  Mr. 
Butterfield    was    elected    captain;    Mr.    Everett,    first-lieutenant;    Mr. 


PAGE    TWENTY-NINE 


Morrill,  the  second-lieutenant;  Alonzo  W.  Jewett,  first-sergeant,  while 
I  was  chosen  third  corporal. 

Among  my  associates  or  acquaintances  who  enlisted  at  the  same 
time  that  I  did,  were  Alonzo  W.  Jewett,  Henry  and  Uriah  Kidder,  the 
three  Nelson  brothers,  Dan,  Major  and  Albert;  Dr.  H.  B.  Fowler,  who 
served  as  surgeon  of  the  regiment;  his  father,  Blake  Fowler,  who  was 
elected  captain  of  Co.  C;  David  E.  Everett,  who  served  as  first  lieu- 
tenant of  Co.  D;  Charles  S.  Brown,  who  was  a  fellow-workman  at  the 
paper  mill;  Charles  W.  Cheney  and  Gustavus  Emmons,  killed  at  Chan- 
cellorsville;  Geo.  C.  Currier  and  Amos  Damon,  who  enlisted  as  musi- 
cians; Frank  Darling;  Henry  Drake,  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  and 
his  brother,  Chas.  N.  Drake,  who  was  shot  through  the  body  and  lost  a 
leg  at  Gettysburg;  Moses  Dustin,  Robert  Easter,  and  Wm.  P.  Harlow, 
who  died  of  disease;  Adna  Hall  and  Oliver  P.  Hall;  Levi  B.  Laney,  who 
was  several  times  wounded;  Thos.  E.  Osgood,  wounded  at  Chancel- 
lorsville; and  Henry  A.  Randolph,  Timothy  Tilton,  Louis  Rowe,  and 
others  not  recalled  The  case  of  Louis  Rowe  deserves  special  mention 
from  the  fact  that,  being  an  alien,  he  was  not  subject  to  a  draft  and 
declined  a  good  offer  to  remain  at  home  and  go  as  a  substitute  for  one 
subject  to  the  draft  if  he  should  be  called. 

From  the  commencement  of  the  war  the  ladies  of  Bristol  often  met 
as  a  soldiers'  aid  society,  and  prepared  lint,  made  "housewives,"  and  per- 
formed such  other  work  as  they  could  to  aid  those  in  the  field.  After 
the  enlistments  spoken  of  above  they  worked  with  renewed  diligence, 
realizing  that  the  future  would  bring  a  larger  demand  for  the  wtork  of 
their  hands. 

During  August,  after  our  enlistment,  there  was  little  to  do,  and  the 
time  was  passed  visiting  friends,  making  preparations  for  our  trip  south, 
and  in  occasional  meetings  at  Sanbornton  Bridge  and  elsewhere  of  those 
who  composed  Co.  D.  About  the  first  of  September  we  rendezvoused 
at  Sanbornton  Bridge  for  drill,  and  on  the  4th  of  that  month  took  the 
train  there  for  Concord.  From  the  station  we  marched  to  the  old  fair- 
ground, where  each  man  was  furnished  with  a  blanket,  and  then  each 
company  was  assigned  one  of  the  barracks  erected  for  our  reception. 
These  barracks  were  each  provided  with  fifty  bunks  giving  accommoda- 
tions for  two  men  each,  two  bunks  to  a  section,  one  above  another. 
Louis  Rowe  and  I  shared  one  bunk.  The  cooking  was  done  over  an 
open  fire  a  little  way  off,  and  there  was  a  small  cook  house  where  the 
food  was  protected  from  the  weather. 

That  first  night  in  camp  was  a  memorable  one.  Leaving  the  envi- 
ronments of  home  had  a  sobering  effect  on  all,  and  that  there  were 
many  sad  hearts  there  cannot  be  denied.  Many  spent  the  evening 
around  the  campfire  singing  and  in  other  ways  trying  to  keep  up  their 
spirits,  and  as  the  hours  passed  this  was  changed  to  a  prayermeeting  led 

PACE    THIRTY 


by  Rev.  Asa  Witham,  a  Free  Baptist  local  preacher  of  Co.  D.  Some, 
true  to  other  instincts,  sought  relief  in  strong  drink. 

Adversity  and  a  hard  experience  drive  some  men  to  seek  relief  in 
strong  drink,  while  it  makes  others  more  religious.  So  in  the  army, 
men  who  never  drank  before  became  intemperate,  while  others  became 
men  of  prayer. 

Many  in  the  company  were  greatly  annoyed  by  the  actions  of  some 
when  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  The  one  giving  the  greatest  offense 
in  Company  D  was  Warren  S.  Cooper.  He  had  seen  active  service  and 
showed  such  proficiency  in  drill  and  in  the  manual  of  arms  that  he  had 
been  elected  sergeant.  For  a  sergeant  to  act  thus  was  considered  by 
many  as  particularly  scandalous,  and  finally  I  was  one  of  a  self  consti- 
tuted committee  that  waited  on  the  company  officers  and  asked  that  he 
be  dismissed  from  the  company.  We  were  told  that  he  was  too  good  a 
soldier  to  be  thrown  overboard,  but  if  he  continued  to  offend  after  being 
mustered  or  reaching  the  seat  of  war,  he  would  be  disciplined.  This 
reasoning  satisfied  the  committee,  but  the  interview  had  hardly  termi- 
nated when  an  officer  arrived  in  camp  who  arrested  Cooper  as  a  deser- 
ter from  the  navy,  and  we  saw  no  more  of  the  drunken  sergeant. 

On  Friday,  Sept.  5,  after  our  arrival  in  Concord,  Co.  D  marched  to 
the  city,  and  in  the  statehouse  yard  was  mustered  into  the  service  of  the 
United  States.  It  was  an  impressively  solemn  occasion.  The  company 
stood  in  the  north  side  of  the  yard  facing  south  and  with  uplifted  hands 
swore  to  defend  the  flag  of  the  Union  and  to  obey  all  lawful  orders  of 
our  Superior  officers.  Every  man  seemed  to  realize  the  full  import  of 
that  oath.  They  thought,  also,  they  had  some  conception  of  the  work 
before  them,  but,  alas,  they  had  not. 

This  ceremony  over,  we  were  informed  we  could  have  a  furlough 
and  go  to  «ur  homes  and  remain  there  till  Monday.  This  offer  all 
accepted  with  pleasure.  On  Wednesday  following  we  drew  our  uni- 
forms and  a  few  days  later,  our  arms.  Another  furlough  of  two  days 
was  granted  the  next  Saturday,  and,  indeed,  it  was  very  easy  to  obtain 
a  leave  of  absence  during  the  first  three  weeks  in  camp.  Then  as  the 
day  of  our  departure  from  the  state  drew  near,  the  grip  of  military 
discipline  was  tightened. 

On  the  11th  I  went  to  Franklin,  from  camp,  with  Capt.  Butter- 
field,  Lieut.  Everett,  A.  W.  Jewett  and  one  or  two  others,  and  was 
initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  Free  Masonry.  This  work  was  done  by 
the  officers  of  Meridian  Lodge  at  a  special  meeting  that  afternoon  and 
the  afternoon  of  the  following  day.  As  may  be  supposed,  no  time  was 
spent  in  lectures  or  in  examination  of  the  candidates  as  to  their  profi- 
ciency as  they  progressed. 

On  the  20th  of  August  a  meeting  was  held  at  Laconia  by  the  line 
officers  of  the  regiment  for  the  election  of  field  officers.       Col.  Thos.  J. 


PAGE    THIRTY-ONE 


Whipple  was  elected  colonel;  Geo.  W.  Stevens,  lieutenant-colonel;  and 
Dr.  George  Montgomery,  assistant  surgeon.  None  of  these  men 
were  commissioned  for  the  places  to  which  they  were  elected.  Col. 
Whipple  was  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  a  capable  and  fearless  soldier. 
He  had  served  in  the  Mexican  war;  as  lieut. -colonel  of  the  1st  Regt.,  N. 
H.  Vols.,  and  as  colonel  of  the  4th  Regt.,  in  the  Civil  war;  but  his 
personal  habits  had  resulted  in  his  retirement  from  the  service  in  March 
previous,  and  therefore  Gov.  Berry  declined  to  commission  him.  This 
gave  great  offense  to  a  majority  of  the  men  of  the  regiment,  especially  to 
those  from  Laconia  and  vicinity,  and  resulted  in  a  bitter  controversy 
that  came  near  making  serious  trouble  in  the  regiment.  This  was 
stayed  only  through  the  advice  of  cool  heads,  including  Col.  Whipple 
himself.  As  it  was,  the  governor  suffered  some  indignity  from  the  men, 
and  day  and  night  the  cry  of  Whipple!  Whipple!  rang  from  all  parts 
of  the  encampment,  and  the  men  were  not  reconciled  to  the  man 
appointed  to  command  them  till  after  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg. 
Then,  without  sufficient  reason,  there  was  a  sudden  change  and  Col. 
Potter  was  ever  after  the  idol  of  his  regiment. 

Capt.  John  H.  Potter  of  the  Regular  army  was  commissioned  as 
colonel,  and  John  F.  Marsh,  as  lieutenant-colonel,  while  Dr.  John  H. 
Sanborn  was  commissioned  as  assistant  surgeon,  in  place  of  Dr.  Mont- 
gomery. The  others  elected  at  this  meeting  and  commissioned  were 
Dr.  H.  B.  Fowler  of  Bristol  as  surgeon,  and  Rev.  Thomas  L.  Ambrose, 
chaplain. 

Life  in  camp  at  Concord  was  filled  with  squad,  company  and  bat- 
talion drills,  dress  parades,  guard  mountings  and  various  other  duties, 
all  intended  to  prepare  the  men  for  active  service.  Sept.  23,  the  routine 
of  camp  duties  was  varied  by  the  arrival  of  a  large  delegation  of  the 
friends  of  Companies  D  and  C  from  Bristol  and  other  places.  A  sword 
was  presented  to  Dr.  H.  B.  Fowler  and  another  to  Lieut.  D.  E.  Everett, 
while  a  suit  of  clothes  was  given  Capt.  Blake  Fowler. 

On  the  24th  came  friends  from  Sanbornton,  who  presented  tokens 
of  regard  to  the  officers  and  men  from  that  section.  On  this  occasion  a 
dinner  was  served  by  the  visitors  and  speeches  made.  One  man  said 
that  all  the  offices  of  the  towns  and  state  would  be  at  the  disposal  of 
those  who  returned  from  the  war.  His  remarks  were  somewhat  pro- 
phetic, for  he  himself  got  left  soon  after  the  war  when  running  for  an 
office  against  a  veteran. 


PAGE   THIRTY-TWO 


Off  to  War 

On  Thursday,  Sept.  25,  an  order  was  issued  stating  that  the  regi- 
ment would  start  for  the  seat  of  war  Saturday  morning,  Sept.  27,  at  7 
o'clock. 

Then  came  preparations  for  the  march.  No  more  furloughs  were 
to  be  issued  and  but  few  passes  from  camp,  but  the  number  of  visitors 
increased  rapidly  and  the  camp  was  crowded  with  those  interested  in  the 
welfare  of  loved  ones  in  the  regiment.  There  was  but  little  sleep  for 
any  one  the  last  night  in  camp.  Some  spent  the  time  in  noisy  demon- 
strations, some  spent  hours  in  writing  good-bye  letters  to  friends,  and 
all  devoted  much  time  to  packing  their  knapsacks  to  the  utmost  capacity. 
The  art  of  getting  along  with  little  had  not  then  been  learned.  As  it 
was,  much  had  to  be  left  behind  and  this  furnished  food  for  bonfires 
kept  burning  all  through  the  night.  The  last  evening  Louis  Rowe  and 
I  went  to  the  city  and  called  on  friends  and  bore  back  to  camp  from 
them  a  good  stock  of  edibles  for  our  coming  trip.  These  friends  were 
strangers,  who  had  invited  us  to  their  homes  that  evening.  They  took 
our  names  that  they  might  keep  track  of  us  at  the  front.  At  the  depot 
on  our  departure  I  was  presented  with  a  box  by  Miss  Hobbs,  a  teacher 
at  the  seminary  at  Sanbornton  Bridge,  and  Miss  Lucy  A.  Way,  a  niece 
of  Bishop  Baker  and  a  recent  graduate  there.  On  opening  the  box  on 
the  train  it  was  found  to  contain  with  other  things,  fruit,  a  looking-glass 
and  comb  and  two  letters.  The  comb  was  carried  in  my  pocket  all 
through  the  war  and  for  35  years  after  the  war  and  then  was  given  a 
place  among  other  war  relics  in  my  cabinet.  The  letters  contained 
words  of  cheer  and  appreciation,  and  in  my  journal  of  that  day  I  find 
recorded  these  words,  "How  it  does  lighten  the  burdens  of  life  to  know 
we  have  friends  who  appreciate  our  motives  and  sympathize  with  us." 

The  march  to  the  depot  that  Saturday  morning  was  the  first  in 
heavy  marching  order.  With  gun  and  accoutrements,  knapsack,  haver- 
sack and  canteen,  each  man  carried  about  sixty  pounds,  and  from  that 
time  the  work  of  lightening  the  load  commenced,  and  was  continued  till 
many  disposed  of  the  knapsack  entirely  and  simply  carried  the 
blanket  in  a  roll  over  the  shoulder. 

A  thousand  men  in  ranks  make  a  great  showing,  and  the  12th 
regiment  extended,  marching  by  platoons,  almost  from  the  covered 
bridge  to  the  railroad  station.  Thousands  of  people  lined  the  sidewalks, 
cheered,  and  waved  handkerchiefs  and  flags,  as  the  soldier  boys  marched 
along.  At  the  station  there  were  many  sad  scenes  of  parting  between 
the  soldiers  and  aged  parents,  wives,  sisters  and  other  friends.  On  this 
occasion  the  cars  were  crowded.  Two  men  with  all  their  belongings 
were  crowded  into  each  seat,  all  in  marked  contrast  to  the  room  given 
the  volunteers  in  the  Spanish  war  later. 


PAGE    THIRTY-THREE 


With  a  train  of  twenty  passenger  cars,  the  regiment  moved  from 
Concord  for  the  South.  Its  passage  was  a  continuous  ovation.  All 
along  the  route  crowds  had  gathered  to  see  us  pass,  and  saluted  us  with 
cheers  and  the  waving  of  flags  and  handkerchiefs.  At  Worcester,  the 
regiment  left  the  train  and  marched  to  the  park,  where  long  tables 
were  loaded  with  a  substantial  meal,  of  which  the  boys  partook  with 
great  enjoyment.  Norwich,  Conn.,  was  reached  at  dusk,  where  the 
regiment  embarked  on  the  steamer,  "City  of  New  York,"  and  arrived  at 
Jersey  City  at  2  a.  m.  Sunday  morning.  Here  my  brothers,  John  and 
William,  met  me,  and,  as  the  train  that  was  to  bear  us  south  was  not 
ready  till  9  a.  m.,  we  had  quite  a  visit. 

We  arrived  at  Philadelphia  at  3  o'clock  Sunday  afternoon,  where  we 
disembarked  to  march  from  one  depot  to  another.  A  most  agreeable 
surprise  awaited  us  there.  We  marched  to  "Coopers  Volunteers' 
Refreshment  Saloon."  Here  were  conveniences  for  all  to  have  a 
generous  wash,  and  then  take  seats  at  tables  loaded  with  the  best  of 
the  markets,  including  luscious  peaches  and  pears  from  the  orchards  of 
that  section.  The  hour  was  that  for  the  closing  of  the  afternoon 
services,  and  apparently  all  the  churches  emptied  their  congregations 
en  masse  where  the  soldiers  from  New  Hampshire  were  to  be  seen. 
This  hearty  meal  and  the  royal  greetings  extended  by  the  people  bright- 
ened the  faces  and  lightened  the  hearts  of  all  the  boys;  and,  for  me, 
has  afforded  a  bright  theme  for  thought  in  all  the  years  that  have  since 
come   and   gone. 

The  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  the  train  pulled  out  of  Philadelphia, 
and  at  3:30  the  next  morning  we  were  in  Baltimore.  While  waiting  a 
few  miles  outside  of  Baltimore,  another  train  passed,  from  which 
stalutes  were  fired  at  our  train,  and,  as  a  result,  Darius  Robinson,  of 
Meredith  of  Co.  I,  who  was  standing  in  the  door  of  one  of  the  cars,  fell 
dead.  A  lieutenant,  Henry  Ashbey,  of  the  84th  N.  Y.  Vols.,  was  arrested 
on  arrival  at  the  Relay  House,  but  he  proved  his  innocence  by  the  fact 
that  the  fatal  bullet  would  not  fit  his  revolver.  The  guilty  party  escaped 
arrest  and  whether  the  shot  was  actually  fired  by  a  rebel  sympathizer, 
as  generally  supposed,  or  as  a  salute,  was  never  known. 

All  day  Monday  we  waited  in  Baltimore  for  a  train  to  take  us  to 
Washington.  At  this  time  the  peach  crop  of  Maryland  was  being 
marketed,  and  the  boys  marvelled  at  the  immense  amount  of  peaches 
that  were  in  the  markets,  even  in  great  piles  on  tables  or  in  bins  in 
the  middle  of  the  streets.  There  was  but  little  evidence  of  disloyalty 
to  be  seen  in  Baltimore  because  the  city  was  completely  under  military 
control,  but  one  private  of  the  regular  army  moved  among  the  boys, 
and  expressed  his  opinion  in  most  emphatic  and  bitter  words  that 
the  government  was  seeking  to  liberate  the  slaves  by  the  war. 


PAGE    THIRTY-FOUR 


The  ride  from  Baltimore  to  Washington  during  Monday  night  was 
one  of  the  memorable  events  in  the  history  of  the  regiment.  The  entire 
regiment,  officers  and  men,  were  loaded  into  freight  cars.  The  night 
was  warm  and  the  men  not  located  near  the  doors  soon  began  to  pant 
for  breath.  "There  is  plenty  of  air  outside,  let's  get  some,"  said  one; 
and  the  butts  of  muskets  began  to  play.  The  same  impulse  moved  the 
men  in  every  car  to  action  at  the  same  time,  and  all  along  the  train  the 
bombardment  continued,  and  pieces  of  the  boarding  on  the  sides  of  the 
cars  were  constantly  flying  into  space  until  ventilation  was  ample.  The 
regiment  left  its  mark  on  that  train;  and  if  it  was  ever  afterward  used 
for  the  transportation  of  troops,  it  was  in  better  condition  for  that 
purpose  than  when  the  12th  Regt.  took  possession  of  it. 

The  boys  looked  forward  to  their  arrival  in  Washington  with 
interest,  expecting  something  of  the  same  reception  accorded  them  in 
Philadelphia,  but  they  were  sorely  disappointed.  No  words  of  greeting 
or  demonstration  of  gladness  were  accorded  the  regiment,  and  this  had 
a  depressing  effect  upon  the  boys.  Some  accounted  for  this  from  the 
fact  that  so  many  regiments  were  constantly  coming  that  this  could  not 
well  be  done,  while  others  retorted  that  at  Philadelphia  the  more  the 
better;  the  people  found  a  way  to  welcome  all.  Washington,  however, 
was  as  cold  as  Baltimore,  and  what  added  to  the  disappointment  was 
the  fact  that  the  regiment  was  marched  to  the  "Soldiers'  Rest,"  or 
"Soldiers'  Retreat,"  for  breakfast.  The  place  was  untidy,  the  meat 
(boiled  pork)  was  poorly  cooked,  the  coffee  weak  and  greasy.  The 
treat  at  Philadelphia  was  the  only  warm  food  the  men  had  tasted  since 
leaving  Concord,  and  the  disappointment  at  Washington  was  long 
remembered  by  the  men. 

Then  came  the  march  of  seven  miles  across  Long  Bridge  to  Arling- 
ton Heights.  The  fierce  rays  of  the  Virginia  sun  in  September  beat 
without  pity  upon  men  unaccustomed  to  marching,  struggling  along 
under  a  heavy  load.  The  march,  though  short  compared  with  many 
taken  later,  was  one  of  the  hardest  in  the  experience  of  the  regiment. 
Arriving  at  our  destination  the  regiment  went  into  camp. 

On  Tuesday,  Oct.  7,  we  moved  camp  about  three  miles  to  near  Fort 
Corcoran,  now  Fort  Meigs,  on  Arlington  Heights,  but  further  up  the 
river.     Here  we  had  an  opportunity  to  bathe  in  the  Potomac. 

On  Thursday  following,  we  marched  to  Washington,  about  eight 
miles,  and  exchanged  our  old  arms  for  new  Springfield  muskets,  carry- 
ing a  large  ball  and  three  buckshot.  Our  route  was  over  Long  Bridge 
to  the  city,  and  back  through  Georgetown. 

Letters  about  this  time  informed  me  that  the  115th  Regt.,  N.  Y. 
Vols.,  in  which  was  my  brother  Abbott,  was  at  Harpers  Ferry  at  the 
time  of  its  surrender  by  Gen.  Miles,  that  they  were  paroled  and  were 
then  in  Chicago. 


PAGE    THIRTY-FIVE 


CHAPTER  IV 
TENTING  ON  THE  OLD  CAMP-GROUND 


But  little  time  was  given  in  camp  for  reflection  or  brooding  over  the 
situation.  There  was  something  to  do  nearly  every  hour  in  the  day,  from 
reveille,  at  5  o'clock  a.  m.,  to  taps  at  9:30  o'clock  in  the  evening.  There 
was  breakfast  call  at  6;  call  for  policing  the  grounds;  sick  call,  at  6:45; 
squad  drill  7  to  8;  guard  mount  at  8;  company  or  battalion  drill  9  to  11 
or  thereabouts;  dinner  call,  inspection  of  quarters,  regimental  drills  in 
the  afternoon,  dress  parade  and  supper  calls;  schools  for  officers  in  the 
evening.  The  evenings  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  men,  and  there  were 
usually  some  religious  services  or  a  social  meeting  in  the  open  air.  On 
Sunday  morning  there  was  always  inspection,  and  then  usually  a 
sermon  by  the  chaplain.  One  evening,  soon  after  our  arrival  in  Vir- 
ginia, the  Masons  of  the  regiment  went  outside  the  camp  lines  and 
spent  an  hour  under  the  blue  arch  of  Heaven  in  consultation  as  to  the 
best  methods  to  assist  each  other  in  time  of  trouble.  I  was  one  of  the 
party  and  I  found  later  that  the  members  of  the  fraternity  were  of 
great  assistance  to  each  other  in  many  ways.  The  leader  of  this  party 
was  Capt.  John  H.  Durgin.  A  few  months  later,  when  left  for  dead  on 
the  battlefield  at  Chancellorsville,  his  life  was  saved  by  brother  Masons 
of  the  Confederate  army.  He  was  shot  through  the  body  and  left  for 
dead  on  the  field.  Our  forces  fell  back,  and  the  ground  where  we 
fought  was  occupied  by  the  enemy.  While  still  unconscious  it  was 
discovered  by  Confederate  Masons  that  he  was  a  Mason,  and  assistance 
was  rendered  him.  He  survived,  was  paroled  with  others  and  sent 
into  the  Union  lines.     He  recovered  and  lived  many  years. 

About  this  time  one  of  my  company  was  outside  the  regimental 
lines  practicing  with  his  gun,  as  he  claimed,  when  one  of  his  fingers  was 
blown  off  by  a  premature  discharge  of  his  gun.  There  was  a  difference 
of  opinion  as  to  whether,  or  not,  this  was  really  an  accident,  but  the 
man  secured  his  discharge  thereby,  a  few  weeks  later. 

On  the  10th  came  orders  to  pack  up  and  be  ready  to  march  at 
a  moment's  notice.  The  notice  to  move  did  not  come,  and  we  remained 
in  camp  that  night.  That  was  fortunate  for,  during  the  night,  we  had 
our  first  experience  with  a  Virginia  rain  storm.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents, 
and  those  who  did  not  have  proper  ditches  around  their  tents  suffered 

PAGE    THIRTY-SEVEN 


much  in  consequence.  The  rain  continued  during  the  next  day,  and  we 
remained  in  camp  waiting  for  orders  to  move,  and  continued  to  wait 
for  a  week. 

In  camp  here  we  had  A  tents.  I  had  for  tent  mates  Louis  Rowe 
and  the  three  Nelson  brothers,  Major,  Dan  and  Albert.  These  men 
were  farmers,  handy  with  the  axe,  and  they  laid  a  floor  in  our  tent. 
This  was  made  of  round  wood  cut  in  the  woods  near  by  and  split,  the 
flat  half  being  at  the  top.  Though  rough,  this  floor  was  a  great 
improvement  over  the  bare  earth. 

We  now  had  shelter  tents  issued  to  us.  These  consisted  of  pieces 
of  cotton  cloth  about  five  feet  square,  each  piece  being  provided  with 
buttons  and  button  holes.  Each  man  had  one.  Two  pieces  buttoned 
together  formed  the  two  sides  of  a  roof,  and  sheltered  two  men;  a 
third  piece  closed  one  end,  and  a  fourth  the  other  end,  and  so  sheltered 
four  men.  In  stormy  weather,  four  to  a  tent  was  a  common  arrange- 
ment, though  four  had  to  lie  snug  together  to  have  the  cloth  cover  all. 
The  addition  of  two  other  pieces  doubled  the  length  of  the  tent,  but  only 
added  two  more  to  its  occupants.  In  this  way  the  tent  could  be 
extended  any  length  desired,  but  as  all  the  occupants  had  to  crawl  in 
from  one  end  or  the  other,  tent  companies  of  more  than  six  were 
unusual. 

Wednesday,  Oct.  16,  we  heard  the  first  shot  fired  in  actual  warfare. 
Some  rebel  cavalry  made  a  reconnaissance  near  our  lines  and  were 
shelled,  when  they  hastily  departed  without  returning  the  fire. 

At  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Saturday,  Oct.  17,  the  long 
expected  reveille  sounded,  and  the  order  to  march  was  again  issued, 
and  this  time  the  line  of  march  was  taken  for  Washington,  where  we 
arrived  at  7  a.  m.  Previous  to  our  departure  it  had  rained,  and  the 
roads  were  muddy,  and  the  mud  of  Virginia  is  something  fearful.  In 
traveling,  one  sinks  to  the  bottom  of  the  mud,  and  it  is  only  with  great 
difficulty  that  the  foot  is  removed  for  a  forward  step,  and  then  large 
masses  adhere  to  the  feet,  making  traveling  extremely  difficult  and 
tiresome. 

About  noon  the  regiment  boarded  a  train  of  freight  cars  at  Wash- 
ington and  we  were  soon  in  motion.  We  passed  through  Beltsville  and 
White  Oak  Bottom  to  Annapolis  Junction,  where  we  took  the  rails  of 
the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  railroad,  and  proceeded  west  to  Knoxville,  Md. 
This  crooked  road  and  its  deep  cuts  through  ledges  and  the  high  hills 
that  towered  above  the  track  were  the  marvel  of  all  and  showed  the 
boys  there  were  hills  outside  of  New  Hampshire.  I  lay  dawn  on  the 
bottom  of  the  freight  car  and  with  my  knapsack  for  a  pillow  got  some 
much  needed  sleep.  Knoxville  was  reached  soon  after  midnight.  Here 
the  regiment  finished  the  night  in  bivouac,  its  first  experience  in  sleeping 
on  the  ground  without  shelter. 

PAGE    THIRTY-EIGHT 


Knoxville  was  a  station  on  the  B.  &  O.  railroad,  about  three  miles 
from  Harpers  Ferry..  It  had  a  few  dwellings  and  a  church,  on  the  hill- 
side, under  which  was  a  schoolroom.  No  services  were  held  in  the 
church  the  Sunday  morning  we  were  there,  but  every  seat  in  the 
schoolroom  and  many  in  the  church  were  occupied  by  the  boys  writing 
letters  home.  Later  in  the  day  one  fellow,  who  had  rolled  off  the  top 
of  a  freight  car  the  night  before  while  asleep  and  was  supposed  to  have 
been  killed,  came  into  camp,  growling  because  he  had  been  left  to  walk 
so  many  miles. 

During  the  day  many  amused  themselves  trying  to  pitch  their  shel- 
ter tents  on  poles  cut  near  by,  but  towards  night  the  order  to  fall  in  was 
given,  so  tents  already  pitched  were  struck,  and  the  line  of  march  taken 
up,  and  we  moved  some  three  miles  to  the  east  side  of  South  mountain, 
near  Petersville.  From  this  mountain  was  named  the  recent  battle  in 
which  the  Union  forces  were  victorious.  There  we  remained  till  the 
evening  of  October  24. 

On  the  23d,  Lieut.  E.  T.  Case,  Abram  Brown,  and  A.  E.  Huntoon, 
all  of  the  9th  Regt.,  visited  me.  They  were  fellow  students  at  Sanborn- 
ton  Bridge.  The  two  latter  graduated  there  in  1862,  and  Case  and  I 
were  expecting  to  graduate  there  in  June,  1863.  This  was  the  under- 
standing when  we  last  separated,  but  instead  we  meet  in  Virginia  and 
all  are  in  the  army. 

Here  we  learned  of  the  death  of  Wm.  P.  Harlow  of  Bristol.  He 
was  taken  from  our  camp  on  Arlington  Heights  to  the  hospital  at  Wash- 
ington, sick  with  brain  fever,  and  died  the  night  after  his  arrival.  His 
was  the  first  death  in  Co.  C. 

At  10  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  Oct.  24,  we  marched  to  Berlin,  Md., 
five  miles,  arriving  about  midnight,  where  we  bivouacked  till  morning. 
The  night  was  cold,  and  the  men  suffered  much.  Just  before  starting 
on  this  march  a  member  of  Co.  I  died,  and  his  remains  were  hastily 
buried  in  a  shallow  grave  by  the  roadside,  wrapped  in  his  blanket.  This 
seemed  shocking  to  our  sensibilities,  but  it  was  only  another  lesson  in 
the  hardening  process  that  was  going  on.  But  for  these  preparatory 
scenes,  the  hard  work  before  us  could  not  have  been  performed. 

On  the  27th  of  October  we  crossed  the  Potomac  on  a  pontoon 
bridge  and  were  again  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia.  During  our 
march  of  three  miles  the  rain  fell  copiously  and  the  tramp  of  the  army 
soon  churned  the  soil  into  deep  mud,  and  we  welcomed  an  order  to  go 
into  camp,  though  on  the  steep  hillside.  We  were  encamped  near  the 
bridge,  evidently  as  guard,  and  here  we  remained  till  the  army  passed. 
We  left  behind,  at  Berlin,  our  lst-sergt.,  A.  W.  Jewett,  sick.  He 
received  a  furlough  home  and  did  not  rejoin  us  for  some  months. 

We  were  now  in  Hillsboro  county,  Va.,  (now  Loudon  County). 
The  plantation  houses,  widely  separated,  showed  marks  of  prosperity, 

PAGE    THIRTY-NINE 


and  the  blight  of  an  army  had  not  till  now  fallen  on  this  section.  Since 
leaving  Concord  not  a  pound  of  fresh  meat  had  been  issued  to  the  12th 
regiment,  and  some  whose  consciences  trouble  them  a  little  at  the 
thought  of  foraging  used  this  fact  to  justify  the  act.  Others  had  no 
qualms  of  conscience  to  silence,  and  so  all,  as  far  as  practicable,  went 
in  for  some  of  the  delicacies  the  section  afforded,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  stringent  orders  had  been  issued  from  army  headquarters 
against  foraging,  and  that  those  caught  in  the  act  were  threatened  with 
hard  work  on  fortifications  then  being  constructed.  To  our  camp  a 
hive  of  honey  was  brought  one  night,  turkeys  that  unwisely  defied  the 
soldier  with  a  gobble,  did  so  no  more,  sweet  potatoes  started  from  the 
ground  wherever  found,  and  sheep  and  cattle  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

An  amusing  prank  was  here  played  by  Co.  D  men  on  men  of  Co.  C. 
One  night  a  squad  from  Co.  C  had  captured  a  fat  steer  and  were  busily 
dressing  it  when  they  were  discovered  by  a  squad  from  Co.  D,  also  in 
quest  of  fresh  meat.  Hastily  taking  in  the  situation,  Co.  D  men  went 
back  to  camp,  got  their  muskets,  placed  themselves  under  the  leadership 
of  one  of  their  number  and  returned.  By  this  time  the  work  of  dressing 
the  steer  was  nearly  completed.  Looking  up,  those  at  work  saw  in  the 
starlight  a  party  of  armed  men  descending  upon  them,  whom  they 
doubted  not  were  the  patrol  scouring  the  country  for  just  such  offenders 
as  they  were,  and  they  instantly  sought  safety  in  flight,  leaving  every 
pound  of  meat  behind.  This  meat,  Co.  D  bore  triumphantly  into  camp, 
and  in  the  morning  generously  presented  a  portion  to  their  friends  in 
Co.  C  who  had  dressed  the  creature. 

Louis  Rowe,  the  Nelson  brothers,  and  I  went,  one  day,  a  mile  or 
so  from  camp  and  found,  not  far  from  a  house,  a  fine  calf,  which  was 
promptly  dispatched.  I  was  stationed  behind  a  tree  to  watch,  while  the 
others  worked  with  dispatch  under  the  shadow  of  a  rail  fence,  to  dress  it. 
The  work  was  about  half  completed  when  I  saw  a  negro  approaching. 
Knowing  we  had  nothing  to  fear  from  him  I  tried  to  motion  my  party 
to  that  effect,  but  they  were  so  busy  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  me, 
but  when  they  heard  the  approaching  footsteps  they  were  seized  with 
a  sudden  fear,  hastily  placed  a  small  portion  of  meat  in  their  haversacks 
and  started  for  camp  on  the  run.  There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do 
under  the  circumstances  but  to  follow,  so  I  also  secured  a  piece  of  meat 
and  tried  to  overtake  my  comrades,  but  the  distance  to  camp  was  nearly 
covered  ere  I  accomplished  this  and  informed  them  of  the  cause  of  their 
fright,  so  they  did  not  return  for  what  was  left. 

That  there  was  cause  for  nervousness  when  on  such  expeditions 
may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  a  dozen  of  the  12th  Regt.  boys  in  one 
squad  were  arrested  one  day  by  the  provost  guard  and  taken  to  division 
headquarters.  This  arrest  did  not  please  Lieut.  Col.  Marsh  of  the  12th, 
and  he  at  once  mounted  his  horse,  took  a  detail  of  20  men  and  started 

PAGE    FORTY 


out  to  see  what  he  could  do  at  foraging.  Soon  after,  finding  a  flock 
of  sheep,  he  commanded  his  men  to  fire,  but  the  only  effect  the  firing 
had  was  to  put  the  sheep  to  flight.  Fortunately  they  took  refuge  in 
a  corner  of  the  field  where  the  men,  after  laying  down  their  arms,  sur- 
rounded them  and  captured  a  dozen  which  they  bore  to  camp. 

A  Live  Watermelon 

The  Twelfth  Regiment  history  tells  the  following  story:  "It  was 
just  about  dark  enough  to  see  but  not  be  seen,  and  the  melon  patch  was 
but  a  few  rods  in  front  of  our  line,  as  carefully  located  by  one  of 
Company  F  boys  before  night.  So  he  quickly  but  noiselessly  creeps 
over  the  breastwork,  and  crawling  along  on  all  fours,  soon  finds  him- 
self among  the  vines,  where  he  feels  and  squints  for  the  luscious  fruit. 
But  finding  only  some  small  green  specimens  left,  he  ventures  a  little 
farther  out,  but  still  finding  none  worthy  of  capture,  and  not  wishing 
to  return  to  be  laughed  at  for  so  much  danger  and  pains  with  nothing  to 
show  for  it  all,  he  concludes,  after  holding  a  council  of  war  with  himself, 
that  he  will  reinforce  with  new  courage,  crawl  beyond  the  middle  line 
and  prove 

'That  he,  alone,  is  sure  of  luck 
Who  shows  himself  most  full  of  pluck.' 
Scarcely  has  he  commenced  to  put  this  resolution  into  motion  when,  as 
if  already  proving  the  truth  of  the  couplet,  he  espies  dimly  through  the 
darkness,  but  a  few  feet  ahead  of  him,  a  large  melon.  But  now  he  halts, 
stretches  and  flattens  like  a  toad,  for  he  thinks  he  hears  the  click  of 
a  gun  lock.  In  breathless  silence  he  lies  and  listens,  and  gazes  into  the 
darkness.  He  hears  nothing  now  but  the  beating  of  his  own  heart,  and 
sees  nothing  but  a  dark  spot  on  the  ground,  which  he  now  fully  believes 
must  be  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  big  watermelon.  What  else  can  it 
be?  No  longer  willing  to  borrow  fears  of  his  imagination  he  draws  himself 
up  into  creeping  posture  again,  and  commences  to  advance;  when,  all 
at  once,  out  of  a  vedette  hole  (that  our  young  hero  had  mistaken  for  the 
big  melon)  springs  a  full  grown  and  well  armed  Johnny  reb,  exclaiming: 
'Now  I've  got  ye,  you  d—n  Yank,'  as  he  thought  he  had,  and  was 
intending,  doubtless,  to  take  him  prisoner,  but  the  game  was  too  quick 
for  him  and  he  only  had  the  satisfaction  of  sending  a  bullet  after  the 
retreating  form  of  the  melon  hunter,  who,  having  thus  opened  the  ball 
of  a  regular  fusillade  for  some  distance  up  and  down  the  lines,  contented 
himself  to  remain  quiet  behind  the  works  the  rest  of  the  night,  wonder- 
ing how  one  poor  soldier  could  be  the  innocent  cause  of  so  much 
trouble,  and  congratulating  himself  in  being  able  to  balance  the  account 
so  far  in  his  favor;  for  if  his  pluck  did  not  get  him  the  melon,  it  was 
certainly  his  good  luck  that  the  melon  did  not  get  him." 

PAGE    FORTY-ONE 


At  this  time  the  army  was  moving  south  and  the  long  expected 
advance  on  Richmond  had  once  more  commenced.  Here  we  saw 
Gen.  McClellan  and  Gen.  Burnside,  as  they  passed  us  riding  to  the  front. 
This  was  the  first  time  we  had  seen  our  commander-in-chief  or  Burn- 
side,  and  so  all  hats  came  off  and  all  joined  in  a  hearty  hurrah,  to  which 
the  generals  replied  by  uncovering,  a  formality  not  repeated  at  sub- 
sequent meetings.  That  very  day  orders  were  issued  at  Washington 
for  the  removal  of  McClellan  and  the  promotion  of  Gen.  Burnside  to 
be  commander  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac. 

After  two  or  three  days  in  camp  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Potomac, 
while  the  army  was  passing,  the  12th  regiment  fell  in  the  rear  of  the 
army  and  moved  two  miles  to  Lovettsville,  and  the  following  day,  ten 
miles  to  Hillsboro,  which  place  we  reached  Thursday,  Oct.  31.  There 
we  remained  till  Sunday,  when  the  march  south  was  resumed.  During 
the  following  week  we  marched  about  50  miles,  Each  day  firing  was 
heard  a  few  miles  south  of  us,  a  constant  reminder  of  the  work  we  had 
in  hand.  Our  march  took  us  by  easy  stages  to  Snicker's  Gap,  thence 
to  Orleans. 

One  night  on  this  trip  our  regiment  was  on  picket.  This  service 
brought  extra  duty  but  with  it  additional  opportunity,  for  the  picket  line 
was  remote  from  the  main  line  of  travel  and  here  the  country  had  been 
foraged  less.  Among  the  luxuries  of  the  picket  line  was  a  fricasseed 
chicken,  when  I  officiated  as  cook.  These  were  palmy  days  for  the 
forager. 

Waterloo  was  a  village  of  a  dozen  negro  huts  or  shanties  and  the 
remains  of  a  woolen  mill — about  the  only  one  seen  by  us  south  of  the 
Potomac.     Here  we  remained  four  days. 

Since  leaving  Arlington  Heights  no  mail  had  been  received  by  the 
regiment  from  New  Hampshire  and  the  boys  were  becoming  impatient 
for  news  from  home.  Capt.  Butterfield  had  a  brother-in-law  for  clerk 
by  the  name  of  Geo.  Pecker,  and  some  one  conceived  the  idea  of  sending 
him  to  New  Hampshire  for  news.  The  idea  was  quickly  acted  on. 
Each  man  of  Co.  D  contributed  62  cents,  and  he  promptly  started  to 
bear  tidings  of  the  boys  to  their  friends  and  bring  tidings  from  them 
to  us.  He  made  the  trip,  delivered  his  mail,  talked  with  our  friends  in 
their  homes  and  answered  many  anxious  questions  that  could  not  be 
answered  by  mail,  and  returned.  The  trip  was  well  worth  what  it  cost, 
for  the  next  day  after  he  left,  the  accumulated  mail  of  four  weeks  was 
received  and  all  came  in  for  a  share.  This  mail  brought  the  intelligence 
that  Comrade  Robert  Easter,  who  was  sent  to  Washington  sick  when 
we  left  Arlington  Heights,  had  died  of  typhoid  fever  there. 

Sunday,  Nov.  16,  we  marched  ten  miles  to  Warrenton.  On  arriv- 
ing in  camp  the  sick  were  removed  from  the  ambulances  and  placed  in 
a   large   tent   erected   for    their   reception.     Here    several    died   within 

PAGE    FORTY-TWO 


a  few  hours  of  their  arrival.  Among  the  number  was  Edward  Pratt  of 
Co.  C.  It  had  been  intended  to  send  him  and  others  to  some  hospital 
to  the  rear,  from  our  last  camp,  but  for  some  reason  this  was  not  done 
and  the  sick  were  loaded  into  ambulances  and  brought  along.  Comrade 
Pratt  was  suffering  from  a  high  fever,  and  the  ride  to  Warrenton  was 
more  than  he  could  endure.  He  walked  from  the  ambulance  to  the 
hospital  tent  and  soon  after  breathed  his  last.  I  was  with  him  when 
he    died. 

Had  these  men  been  afforded  the  comforts  of  home  their  lives 
might  have  been  spared.  But  this  was  impossible.  Riding  in  ambu- 
lances over  rough  roads  or  over  the  fields  afforded  hardly  a  moment  of 
quiet  or  rest,  and  the  roadside  must  occasionally  be  visited,  efforts 
which  required  strength  far  beyond  what  the  sick  men  had.  No  wonder 
such  often  succumbed  as  soon  as,  like  Pratt,  one  found  himself  no 
longer  obliged  to  nerve  himself  to  meet  the  necessities  of  the  hour. 

We  were  informed  that  the  remains  of  those  dying  here  were  to  be 
sent  north,  but  after  we  had  started  on  the  march  the  next  morning  I 
learned  that  all  had  been  buried.  Obtaining  permission,  Louis  Rowe 
and  I  returned  to  the  scene  of  our  encampment  and  marked  Pratt's 
grave  by  nailing  to  a  near-by  tree  a  piece  of  a  hardtack  box  on  which 
we  wrote  his  name,  company  and  regiment,  and  also  his  residence — all 
we  could  do  for  our  deceased  comrade.  Comrade  Pratt  was  from 
Hebron,  and  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Wm.  A.  Berry.  The  remains  were  later 
removed  to  his  native  town. 

Warrenton  was  the  first  town  of  considerable  size  within  the  ene- 
my's line  that  we  had  visited,  and  the  secession  spirit  was  very  manifest. 
In  the  town  but  few  people  were  seen,  and  the  heavy  wooden  shutters 
with  which  most  of  the  houses  were  provided  were  tightly  drawn  and 
the  doors  locked.  Just  outside  the  town,  near  where  we  encamped  the 
night  of  our  arrival,  was  a  plantation  house.  As  we  passed  it  the  next 
morning  the  owner  was  walking  the  front  porch  in  dressing  gown  and 
slippers,  with  marks  of  scorn  and  contempt  on  every  line  of  his  features, 
as  he  saw  his  fences  down,  his  fields  and  even  his  front  lawn  deeply 
cut  up  with  the  wheels  of  the  artillery  and  baggage  trains. 

At  Warrenton  I  received  a  call  from  A.  P.  Tasker,  who  was  a 
teacher  of  music  at  Tilton,  and  Mr.  French,  a  former  student  there. 
Both  were  now  in  the  service. 

We  now  experienced  a  succession  of  rainy  days.  The  roads  and 
fields  over  which  we  marched  were  badly  cut  up,  the  supply  trains 
were  a  long  distance  in  the  rear,  and  the  army  was  decidedly  short 
of  rations.  The  wet  earth  was  soft  but  unhealthy  for  beds,  and  various 
expedients  were  necessary,  to  keep  our  bodies  from  the  wet  ground. 
At  one  place  poles  and  bushes  were  cut,  and  at  another  two  immense 
stacks  of  straw  and  one  of  hay  disappeared  as  if  by  magic. 

PAGE    FORTY-THREE 


On  the  19th,  while  on  the  march  near  Hartwood,  our  regiment  was 
for  the  first  time  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  to  repel  an  expected  attack. 
But  no  attack  came,  and,  after  being  under  arms  for  a  couple  of  hours, 
we  resumed  our  march.  This  little  incident  brought  out  the  real  stuff 
of  which  some  of  the  men  were  composed.  Most  were  ready  to  com- 
mence the  real  work  of  service  as  became  men,  while  some  trembled 
with  fear.  Especially  noticeable  among  the  latter  was  one  of  the 
officers,  whose  blanched  face  indicated  that  he  was  hardly  a  man  to  lead 
a  charge. 

Near  Fredericksburg 

Sunday  evening,  Nov.  23,  1862,  we  reached  a  point  about  four  miles 
east  of  Falmouth,  which  lies  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Rappahannock, 
opposite  Fredericksburg.  We  were  near  the  railroad  that  runs  from 
Falmouth  to  Aquia  Creek,  where,  as  events  proved,  we  were  to  remain 
for  the  winter. 

For  some  days  previous  to  reaching  Falmouth,  the  army  was 
extremely  short  of  rations,  causing  much  suffering.  This  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  bad  condition  of  the  roads  in  our  rear  or  to  the  change  of 
base  of  supplies  from  our  rear  to  Aquia  Creek,  or  both  combined.  Many 
a  man  made  a  day's  march  on  a  single  hardtack.  Individual  foraging 
was  out  of  the  question  in  so  large  an  army  constantly  on  the  move, 
but  the  commissary  department  gathered  in  for  the  use  of  the  army 
what  the  country  afforded,  which  was  but  little  compared  with  the 
demand.  One  evening  I  and  several  of  my  tent's  crew,  by  tramping 
two  or  three  miles  to  where  cattle  had  been  slaughtered,  secured  the 
head  of  a  steer  just  butchered.  We  took  turns  on  duty  that  night, 
keeping  it  boiling,  and  when  morning  came  were  surprised  and  rejoiced 
at  the  large  amount  of  meat  that  we  secured  from  the  bones.  I  started 
out  with  plenty  of  rations  for  the  day.  A  few  hours  later,  while  resting 
by  the  roadside,  I  noticed  one  of  my  comrades,  Hiram  Philbrick,  look- 
ing exceedingly  haggard  and  dejected,  and  said  to  him,  "What  is  the 
matter,  Hiram?  Are  you  sick?"  "No,  but  I  have  not  had  a  mouthful 
to  eat  since  yesterday  morning."  Our  haversack  was  instantly  opened, 
and  we  gave  the  poor  fellow  a  meal,  which  lasted  in  memory  a  long 
time,  for  as  we  have  met  at  reunions  and  at  other  times  in  later  years, 
he  has  never  failed  to  allude  to  the  food  we  furnished  him  that  day. 

Another  incident,  showing  human  nature  in  the  army  as  well  as 
elsewhere,  might  be  mentioned.  While  on  the  march,  all  luxuries 
secured  by  foraging  were  shared  with  the  officers.  On  arriving  at  Fal- 
mouth I  was  suffering  slightly  from  jaundice  and  longed  for  something 
to  eat  besides  my  daily  rations.  I  could  think  of  nothing  at  the  com- 
missary, where  supplies  were  sold  the  officers,  that  would  fit  my  case 


PAGE    FORTY-FOUR 


better  than  dried  apple,  and  so  I  applied  to  an  officer,  to  whose  mess  I 
had  contributed,  to  give  me  an  order  for  the  same,  offering  to  pay  for 
it,  of  course.  He  replied  he  would  be  glad  to  give  orders,  but  he  was 
afraid  if  he  did  he  would  not  be  able  to  get  supplies  for  his  own  mess 
as  he  needed. 

We  passed  some  days  near  Falmouth  in  the  open,  south  of  the 
railroad,  but  soon  moved  to  the  north  side  of  the  track  into  a  growth  of 
pine,  where  the  trees  on  the  average  were  about  a  foot  in  diameter. 
As  showing  the  rapid  growth  of  the  pine  in  Virginia,  it  may  be  stated 
the  rows  were  plainly  visible  where  corn  had  grown  when  this  land 
was  cultivated. 

The  trees  were  rapidly  felled  for  firewood  and  for  building  winter 
quarters.  Before  many  weeks  had  passed,  every  tree  had  fallen  and 
then  the  stumps  and  finally  the  roots  gave  way  to  the  soldiers'  axes  for 
fuel. 

Quite  comfortable  quarters  were  here  erected  by  the  men.  The 
company  streets,  about  forty  feet  wide,  were  laid  out  parallel  with  each 
other,  and  the  tents  were  on  both  sides  of  the  street  facing  inward. 
The  tents  were  about  eight  feet  long  by  six  wide.  Walls  about  three 
feet  high  were  built  of  logs,  and  on  these  were  pitched  the  shelter  tents. 
Four  men  to  a  tent  furnished  four  pieces  of  shelter  tent  cloth,  which, 
buttoned  together,  made  the  roof.  The  ends  above  the  logs  were 
closed  with  a  rubber  blanket,  pieces  of  hardtack  boxes  or  by  other 
devices.  On  one  side  or  end  was  a  fireplace,  the  chimney  built  of  wood 
and  daubed  with  clay  to  prevent  its  being  destroyed  by  fire.  Two  bunks 
in  one  end,  one  above  the  other,  occupied  about  one-half  the  space, 
leaving  the  other  half  for  a  living  room.  The  New  Hampshire  boys 
were  skilful  in  the  use  of  the  ax,  and  their  quarters  were  among  the 
best  in  the  army. 

Soon  after  arriving  at  Falmouth,  we  learned  that  Capt.  J.  Ware 
Butterfield,  of  my  company,  Co.  D,  Capt.  Blake  Fowler,  Dr.  Fowler 
and  his  son,  Geo.  H.  Fowler,  who  was  acting  as  his  servant,  had  been 
captured  at  Warrenton.  They  had  remained  there  after  the  army 
left  on  account  of  sickness  and  were  all  promptly  captured  by  the  enemy. 
Capt.  Fowler  and  Dr.  Fowler  rejoined  the  regiment  some  months  later, 
and  with  them  came  Sergt.  Jewett,  who  was  left  behind  at  Berlin. 
Capt.  Butterfield  was  a  very  capable  officer,  but  he  never  rejoined  his 
company,  and  this  act  of  his  occasioned  some  bitterness  towards  him, 
and  some  recalled  a  report,  at  the  time  of  his  enlistment,  that  he  had 
made  a  remark  that  he  did  not  intend  to  see  any  fighting.  In  March, 
following,  an  order  from  the  War  Department  was  read  on  dress 
parade,  announcing  that  he  was  dismissed  from  the  service  for  absence 
without  leave.  This  order  was  subsequently  rescinded,  and  he  stands 
on  the  rolls  today  as  discharged,  Nov.  17,  1862. 

PAGE    FORTY-FIVE 


Thursday,  Nov.  26,  was  Thanksgiving  in  New  Hampshire.  We 
in  the  army  had  plenty  of  hardtack  and  beans  to  sustain  the  inner  man, 
but  the  thoughts  of  all  were  turned  to  home.  At  the  time  of  the  usual 
afternoon  regimental  drill  Lieut.  Col.  Marsh  marched  the  regiment  to 
the  drill  ground  as  usual,  but  instead  of  a  drill  he  formed  the  men  en 
masse  and  addressed  them,  and  then  called  for  three  cheers  for  home. 
These  were  given  with  a  will,  and  the  regiment  was  marched  back  to  the 
encampment,  where  three  cheers  were  given  for  Col.  Marsh. 

Later  in  the  day  the  remains  of  Benjamin  Weeks  of  Co.  D  were 
buried.  He  had  died  the  night  before  and  his  was  the  first  death  in 
camp  of  a  member  of  my  company.  His  death  made  quite  an  impression 
on  the  men.  According  to  military  usage,  when  a  private  is  buried, 
the  order  of  march  is,  first  the  privates,  then  corporals,  sergeants,  and, 
last,  the  commissioned  officers  of  the  company,  the  whole  under  the 
command  of  a  corporal.  As  corporal  I  officiated  on  this  occasion.  In 
the  absence  of  a  coffin,  Weeks'  body  was  placed  to  rest  on  a  bed  of 
evergreen,  and  evergreen  was  his  covering  before  the  cold  earth  filled 
the  grave.  Chaplain  Ambrose  offered  prayer  and  made  remarks  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion. 

One  of  my  duties  as  corporal  was  to  take  turns  with  the  other 
corporals  and  sergeants  in  drawing  rations.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
boys  discovered  that  they  fared  better  when  the  rations  were  drawn  by 
me  than  when  the  others  did  the  work.  An  explanation  was  found  in 
the  fact  that  each  day,  when  my  turn  came,  I  took  the  morning  report 
giving  the  number  of  men  present,  and  figured  from  that  just  what 
rations  we  were  entitled  to,  and  I  insisted  on  having  this  from  the  com- 
missary sergeant.  On  one  occasion  the  commissary  sergeant  gave  me 
a  less  quantity  of  sugar  than  I  claimed,  and  refused  to  make  good  the 
shortage.  Taking  along  one  man  of  my  detail  as  a  witness  I  carried 
the  sugar  to  the  division  commissary,  had  it  weighed  and  got  a  certi- 
ficate of  the  amount.  With  this  I  appeared  at  the  colonel's  quarters 
and  stated  my  case,  with  the  result  that  the  commissary  sergeant  was 
promptly  reprimanded.  He  made  good  the  shortage,  and  never 
attempted  to  give  me  short  weight  again.  This  led  to  my  being  detailed 
to  attend  to  the  drawing  of  all  rations  for  the  company.  To  compensate 
me  for  this  extra  work  I  was  excused  from  all  guard  duty  thereafter. 
I  mention  this  here  not  because  I  desire  to  make  prominent  a  dispo- 
sition to  stand  up  for  my  rights,  but  because  this  fact  saved  me  many 
a  night  of  exposure  on  guard.  During  all  my  term  of  service  guard 
duty  was  almost  unknown  to  me. 


PAGE    FORTY-SIX 


CHAPTER  V 
DEFEAT  AT  FREDERICKSBURG 


So  the  days  passed  and  the  rainy  season  of  the  year  had 
arrived.  The  belief  that  there  would  be  no  winter  campaign  gained 
credence,  and  we  settled  down  to  the  every-day  life  of  the  soldier, 
as  though  we  knew  we  were  to  remain  in  our  camp  during  the  remain- 
der of  the  winter.  But  this  was  not  to  be.  On  Wednesday,  Dec.  10th, 
orders  were  received  to  be  ready  to  march  with  four  days'  rations 
and  sixty  rounds  of  ammunition  and  to  leave  our  knapsacks  and  all 
extra  clothing  in  our  quarters. 

This  indicated  business,  and  the  boys  shuddered  as  much  at  the 
thoughts  of  exposures  that  might  come  as  at  the  prospect  of  a  battle, 
for  the  weather  was  severe,  and  the  nights  cold. 

This  order  to  leave  a  part  of  our  clothing  in  camp,  or  at  a  desig- 
nated place,  which  was  given  several  times  later,  was  a  mystery  to  all. 
When  troops  leave  a  given  locality  they  are  never  sure  of  returning 
unless  the  commanding  general  was  sure  of  being  defeated  and  there- 
fore obliged  to  return. 

The  next  morning  at  5  o'clock  we  were  ordered  to  prepare  to  march, 
and  we  hastily  donned  our  overcoats  and  slung  our  arms  and  equip- 
ments and  placed  our  blankets  in  rolls  to  throw  over  our  shoulders. 
While  these  preparations  were  being  made,  firing  from  the  direction  of 
Fredericksburg  was  distinctly  heard,  vivid  reminders  of  the  work  ahead. 
We  remained  ready  to  fall  in  till  11  o'clock,  when  the  orders  finally 
came  to  move,  and  we  commenced  our  march  to  the  music  of  the  boom- 
ing guns.  After  marching  two  or  three  miles  we  halted,  and  there 
remained  the  rest  of  the  day.  From  our  position,  the  view  was  an 
inspiring  one.  The  plain  between  us  and  Fredericksburg  was  covered 
with  the  army  of  the  Potomac  in  battle  array.  The  engineer  corps  was 
endeavoring  to  lay  pontoons  on  the  river,  and  the  artillery  on  the  high 
ground  opposite  the  city  kept  up  a  constant  cannonade  all  day  long  on 
the  city  to  protect  the  men  at  their  work.  For  hours  the  roar  of 
artillery  shook  the  earth  under  our  feet,  though  we  were  a  mile  or  more 
from  the  scene.  We  bivouacked  for  the  night  near  the  9th  Regt.,  N.  H. 
Vols.,  and  that  evening  there  was  a  reunion  of  a  party  of  former  Tilton 
students  in  that  regiment  and  those  from  the  same  school  in  the  12th, 

PAGE    FORTY-SEVEN 


of  whom  I  was  one.  Home,  the  seminary  and  the  coming  battle  were 
the  topics  of  conversation,  and  all  were  hopeful  of  the  result  of  the 
coming  conflict.  One  of  the  number,  Lieutenant  Case,  was  sick  with  a 
fever,  and  took  no  part  in  the  coming  action.  Another,  Appleton 
Huntoon,  treated  the  party  to  fried  potatoes,  and  a  great  luxury  they 
were. 

On  Friday  morning,  Dec.  12,  we  resumed  the  march  towards 
Fredericksburg  and  halted  on  the  bluffs  opposite  the  city  near  the  Lacey 
house.  Six  pontoons  spanned  the  Rappahannock,  three  some  dis- 
tance below  the  city,  and  three  between  the  city  and  the  bluffs,  where 
we  were.  West  of  the  city,  on  St.  Marye's  heights,  the  enemy  was 
strongly  entrenched.  General  Franklin  had  crossed  south  of  the  city 
and  had  already  engaged  the  enemy,  and  General  Sumner's  forces 
had  crossed  on  the  bridges  opposite  the  Lacey  house,  and  occupied  the 
city.  Soon  after  noon  Colonel  Potter  received  orders  for  the  12th 
regiment  to  cross  the  river  on  the  north  bridge.  In  marching  to  this 
bridge,  just  as  the  regiment  appeared  on  the  bluff,  it  came  within  range 
of  the  batteries  on  St.  Marye's  heights,  and  three  shells  in  rapid  succes- 
sion were  thrown  at  us.  The  first  went  over  our  heads,  the  second  fell 
short,  but  the  third  struck  in  Cos.  B  and  K,  and  eight  men  fell.  Col. 
Potter  gave  the  command,  "Right  oblique,  double  quick  march!"  and 
the  regiment  rapidly  swung  to  the  left  into  a  ravine  out  of  sight  of  the 
rebel  gunners.  Of  the  eight  referred  to  above,  two  died  of  their 
wounds  a  day  or  two  later.  Just  before  this,  where  we  were  resting 
near  the  Lacey  house,  workmen  had  been  at  work  probably  for  weeks 
preparing  wood  for  the  army,  and  there  were  immense  piles  there. 
One  man  had  left  a  small  axe,  without  any  helve,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  that  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  use  in  camp,  so  into  my  haversack  it 
went  along  with  my  food.  When  the  shells  made  their  visit  into  our 
ranks  and  the  run  commenced  for  the  ravine,  this  axe  suddenly  grew 
heavy.  Indeed  it  seemed  to  weigh  a  ton,  and  I  acted  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment  and  let  it  go. 

So  many  troops  crowded  the  bridge  that  the  12th  regiment 
remained  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river  till  nightfall,  when  it  marched 
back  nearly  a  mile  and  there  bivouacked  on  the  soft,  wet,  cold  ground, 
and  we  passed  a  most  uncomfortable  night. 

During  this  night  eleven  men  of  the  12th  regiment  deserted. 
Among  the  number  was  Jed  Hubbard  of  Bristol,  a  member  of  Co.  C, 
serving  on  the  quota  of  New  Hampton.  A  comrade  of  his  had  recently 
received  a  pair  of  new  boots  from  home,  and  that  evening  all  were 
bemoaning  the  want  of  wood  with  which  to  build  a  fire,  when  Jed 
said  to  his  comrade,  "You  lend  me  your  boots  and  I  will  get  some  wood 
if  I  have  to  go  to  New  Hampshire  for  it."     The  boots  were  loaned, 


PAGE    FORTY-EIGHT 


and  Hubbard  went  to  New  Hampshire,  and  did  not  return  till  he  was 
brought  back  many  months  later  under  arrest  for  desertion. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th,  we  again  started  for  the  city  and 
crossed  the  river  on  the  upper  bridge.  At  this  time  the  battle  was  rag- 
ing in  all  its  fury,  the  very  ground  trembling  under  our  feet  from  the 
shock.  There  was  a  constant  crash  of  musketry  and  thunder  of  artillery, 
and  solid  shot  and  shells  were  flying  over  our  heads,  both  from  tlte 
heights  occupied  by  the  Confederates  and  the  Union  guns  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  river.  After  reaching  the  city  we  remained  some  time  on 
the  west  bank  of  the  river  in  mud  so  deep  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
move.  The  city  had  been  hastily  deserted  by  the  inhabitants,  when  the 
bombardment  commenced;  nearly  every  building  had  been  pierced  with 
shot  or  shell,  and  many  buildings,  especially  at  the  north  end,  had  been 
destroyed  by  shot  or  fire. 

Soon  there  commenced  to  arrive  from  the  battlefield  stragglers  and 
skulkers  pale  with  fright;  wounded  men,  some  with  wounds  that  would 
seem  to  make  it  impossible  for  them  to  walk,  and  ambulances  filled  with 
the  wounded;  all  pressing  for  the  pontoons  to  pass  to  the  eastern  side  of 
the  river. 

About  2  p.  m.  an  orderly  rode  to  the  colonel  and  handed  him  a 
written  order.  He  had  hardly  done  this  when  the  orderly's  horse  was 
killed  under  him.  The  colonel  called  "Attention,  forward  march,"  vaulted 
into  his  saddle,  and  the  regiment  moved  up  Amelia  street  to  Princess 
Anne  street,  the  third  from  the  river,  and  then  filed  to  the  left,  just  in 
time  to  escape  a  storm  of  shot  and  shell  that  swept  the  street.  When 
we  halted,  Co.  D  happened  to  be  in  front  of  a  very  fine  residence,  and 
took  the  lawn  for  a  resting  place.  While  there,  I,  with  others,  took  a 
stroll  through  the  house.  It  had  evidently  been  the  abode  of  wealth 
and  refinement,  but  was  now  deserted  and  was  trembling  to  its  founda- 
tion with  the  shock  of  battle.  While  passing  through  the  elegantly 
furnished  drawing  room,  one  man  near  me  said,  "Yes!  it  was  the  men 
who  lived  in  such  houses  as  this  that  brought  on  this  war,"  and  in  his 
indignation  he  took  a  chair  and  with  it  struck  the  keyboard  of  a  fine 
piano  a  blow  that  made  kindling  wood  of  the  chair  and  badly  damaged 
the  instrument. 

At  4  p.  m.  we  again  moved,  this  time  to  Prince  Edward  street, 
the  upper  street  of  the  city.  On  the  way  we  passed  a  church  that  was 
being  cleared  for  use  as  a  hospital,  the  pews  being  thrown  out  of  the 
windows.  The  belfry  was  at  that  time  in  use  as  a  signal  station.  At 
this  point  the  screechng  of  shot  and  shell  was  constant.  One  shell 
passed  over  Co.  D,  near  the  heads  of  the  men,  struck  in  the  street  near 
them,  and  exploded.  Fortunately  the  shell  was  moving  from  us  when 
it  exploded  and  the  pieces  were  thus  carried  by  its  momentum  in  the 
same  direction,  and  none  of  the  boys  were  hit.     But  this  close  call  was 


PAGE    FORTY-NINE 


naturally  a  stunner,  and  caused  the  column  to  break,  and  the  boys  for 
the  moment  lost  all  semblance  of  an  organization.  As  the  smallest 
corporal  in  the  company,  I  was  at  the  foot  or  left,  and  when  this 
occurred  I  simply  did  my  duty  and  endeavored  to  hurry  the  men  back 
into  the  ranks.  This  was  noticed  by  Capt.  J.  W.  Lang,  who  was  at  the 
head  of  Co.  I,  the  next  in  line.  He  reported  the  incident  to  Col.  Marsh 
and,  in  consequence,  I  was  later  promoted  to  fill  the  first  vacancy  in  the 
company  as  sergeant. 

All  this  time  the  battle  had  been  raging  furiously,  and  the  slaughter 
of  the  Union  troops  in  the  vain  effort  to  carry  the  well  fortified  heights 
of  the  enemy  had  been  fearful  and  all  for  naught.  Refugees  from  the 
front  all  told  the  same  story  of  unavailing  sacrifice,  and,  while  we  tried 
to  find  some  consolation  in  arguing  that  these  men  were  giving  the  dark 
side  of  the  picture,  still  we  could  not  but  inwardly  feel  that  the  reports 
were  probably  true,  as  they  proved  to  be. 

As  we  neared  Prince  Edward  street,  the  crash  of  musketry  was 
heavier  than  at  any  time  previously,  and  we  could  almost  see  through 
the  smoke  of  battle  and  the  gathering  shades  of  evening  the  flash  from 
the  guns  of  the  opposing  armies.  This  proved  to  be  the  final  assault 
of  the  day,  when  Gen.  Humphrey's  division  made  the  last  desperate, 
but  unavailing,  effort  to  carry  the  enemy's  works.  Then  the  firing 
gradually  ceased. 

We  remained  in  Prince  Edward  street  during  the  night.  There 
was  but  little  sleep  for  us,  though  the  night  was  comparatively  quiet. 
I  tore  a  board  from  a  fence  and  used  it  as  a  bed  thereby  preventing  my 
body  from  sinking  into  the  soft  ground.     In  this  way  I  got  a  little  sleep. 

The  next  day,  December  14,  was  Sunday.  Gen.  Burnside  was  not 
inclined  to  renew  the  fight  of  the  day  before,  and  Gen.  Lee  could  well 
afford    to   remain   where   he   was,    behind    his    works    on    the    heights. 

As  daylight  came  the  boys  of  the  12th  began  to  look  about  them. 
In  a  yard  close  by  were  found  several  cows  which  the  owners,  being 
absent  from  the  city,  had  neglected  for  several  days.  These  were  given 
prompt  attention,  and  the  milk  they  furnished  was  greatly  enjoyed  by 
the  boys.  A  house  near  by  was  evidently  vacated  in  a  hurry,  and  in 
the  basement  was  found  everything  needed  for  preparing  food,  and 
active  operations  were  at  once  resumed  by  the  boys.  A  dozen  were 
promptly  mixing  flour  for  fritters,  and  the  stove  and  range  were  sur- 
rounded by  as  many  cooks,  and  if  the  fritters  turned  out  were  not  light, 
they  were  at  least  palatable  to  hungry  soldiers  and  disappeared  with 
amazing  rapidity. 

As  the  day  advanced  and  the  air  cleared,  we  could  plainly  see  the 
enemy's  batteries  on  the  heights,  which  seemed  but  a  short  distance 
away;  but  we  were  told  that  the  distance  was  nearly  a  mile. 


PAGE    FIFTY 


The  day  passed  uneventfully,  and  as  night  drew  near,  it  became 
apparent  that  we  might  remain  where  we  were  during  the  night.  In 
every  house  there  were  comfortable  beds,  but  as  we  could  not  scatter 
and  occupy  the  beds  where  they  were,  we  concluded  the  beds  must 
come  to  us,  and  so  mattresses  and  feather  beds  and  fine  bedding  were 
laid  on  the  sidewalks,  and  weary  soldiers  with  clothing  and  shoes  on 
retired  early  to  rest. 

At  12  o'clock  I  was  called  to  draw  rations  for  the  company,  which 
I  did.  A  half  hour  later  I  again  lay  down,  leaving  the  rations  to  be 
distributed  in  the  morning.  Two  hours  later  there  was  a  discharge  of 
musketry  at  the  front  near  us,  when  all  hustled  from  bed  in  double 
quick  time  and  marched  to  the  support  of  a  battery,  just  outside  the 
city.  Here  we  were  ordered  to  lie  down  and  remain  perfectly  quiet. 
Our  position  was  a  bleak  one;  a  cold  wind  was  blowing,  and  we  keenly 
felt  the  exchange  of  our  warm  beds  for  the  cold  ground.  From  this 
position  I  made  two  trips  with  two  men  back  to  Prince  Edward  street 
for  the  rations  I  had  drawn  there,  and  then  distributed  them  to  the  boys 
as  they  lay  on  the  ground.  When  we  first  arrived  at  the  battery  I 
heard  one  of  the  gunners  ask  another  what  regiment  had  come  to  their 
support.  "It  is  a  New  Hampshire  regiment.  I  don't  know  which,"  he 
replied.  "Well!  we  are  all  right  then,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "The 
New  Hampshire  men  fight." 

Monday,  Dec.  15,  was  a  day  of  inactivity.  In  the  morning  we 
returned  to  Prince  Edward  street,  where  we  passed  the  day,  and  at 
dark  returned  to  the  support  of  the  battery.  During  the  early  part  of 
the  night  there  was  some  picket  firing  and  some  musketry.  The  night 
was  a  horrible  one.  A  cold  wind  pierced  the  heaviest  clothing  and 
rendered  sleep  impossible.  The  wooden  shutters  with  which  nearly 
all  of  the  houses  were  provided  were  constantly  slamming.  Every  dog 
in  the  city  continued  for  hours  a  most  dismal  howling,  and  even  the 
hogs  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  the  bellowing  of  cattle  was  occasionally 
heard  above  all.  I  find  penned  in  my  journal  these  words:  "It  seemed 
as  if  all  the  hosts  of  hell  were  let  loose  in  the  city." 

After  a  few  hours  supporting  the  battery,  we  marched  to  the  north 
part  of  the  city,  where  we  lay  for  a  while  in  the  open  field,  and  then  we 
returned  to  the  city  to  Gen.  Whipple's  headquarters.  The  north  part  of 
the  city  had  felt  the  blighting  effect  of  the  battle  more  than  the  rest. 
A  large  number  of  extensive  buildings  which  appeared  to  be  manu- 
factories had  been  destroyed  by  fire,  and  those  that  remained  were 
shattered  with  shot  and  shell,  and  the  wind  whistled  dismally  through 
the  ruins.  Nearly  every  building  in  the  city  was  wholly  or  partially 
destroyed,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  fire  of  the  enemy  in  its  efforts  to 
dislodge  the  Union  troops  had  been   more  destructive  than  the  bom- 


PAGE    FIFTY-ONE 


bardment  of  the  Union  army.     All  the  churches,  halls,  and  many  of  the 
dwellings  that  had  escaped  destruction  were  used  as  hospitals. 

Soon  after  two  o'clock  (Tuesday  morning,  the  16th)  rain  com- 
menced to  fall  in  true  Virginia  style,  and  about  the  same  time  we  com- 
menced to  march  on  what  proved  to  be  the  retreat  of  the  army,  though 
we  did  not  realize  this  fact  till  we  neared  the  pontoon  bridges.  It  was 
with  no  light  hearts  that  we  recrossed  the  bridges,  for  this  was  an 
admission  that  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  had  been  lost,  and  that  the 
fearful  sacrifice  of  thousands  of  brave  men  had  been  in  vain.  At  this 
moment  commenced  the  deep  gloom  that  rested  so  long  on  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac. 

Someone  Had  Blundered 

The  battle  of  Fredericksburg  will  probably  go  down  in  history 
as  perhaps  the  most  stupendous  blunder  of  the  war.  The  one  exten- 
uating feature  was  that  Gen.  Burnside  knew  he  was  not  capable  of 
commanding  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  shrank  from  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  position.  Gen.  Lee's  army  held  St.  Marye's  heights,  a 
mile  back  from  Fredericksburg,  and  here  he  had  had  months  in  which 
to  add  to  the  natural  strength  of  the  position.  All  this  time,  Gen.  Burn- 
side's  army,  vastly  superior  in  numbers  to  that  of  Lee,  had  occupied 
the  plain  on  the  north  side  of  the  Rappahannock,  opposite  Fredericks- 
burg. The  time  had  been  occupied  in  drills  and  perfecting  the  army 
for  the  coming  struggle,  but  one  essential  for  success  seems  to  have  been 
overlooked.  Gen.  Burnside  failed  to  inform  himself  concerning  the  na- 
ture of  the  ground  he  would  have  to  pass  over  in  making  an  attack.  A 
canal,  which  ran  parallel  with  the  river,  between  the  city  and  the  heights, 
he  refused  to  believe  existed,  though  informed  by  competent  authority; 
but  when  the  supreme  moment  came,  it  was  found  to  be  there,  and 
greatly  retarded  the  advance  of  the  assailants. 

Gen.  Burnside  sent  across  the  river  113  men,  under  able  corps 
commanders,  while  he  remained  at  his  headquarters  at  the  Phillips 
mansion,  a  mile  from  the  river,  on  the  east  side,  but  in  full  view  of  the 
scene  of  action. 

An  attempt  was  made  to  carry  the  heights  by  a  direct  assault  at 
various  points;  but  every  attempt  was  a  failure.  It  could  not  be  other- 
wise. Behind  the  stone  wall  and  earthworks  on  St.  Marye's  heights 
were  massed  the  infantry  and  artillery  of  the  Southern  army.  Lead 
and  iron  were  poured  in  a  continuous  stream  into  the  ranks  of  the  Union 
army,  and  thousands  went  down.  It  closed  up  its  ranks,  and  pressed 
on,  or  retired  and  reformed  and  renewed  the  attack,  only  to  meet  with 
the  same  result — failure.  Gen.  Longstreet,  of  the  Confederate  army, 
in  "Battles  and  Leaders,"  says  that  in  front  of  his  position  six  assaults 


PAGE    FIFTY-TWO 


were  made,  and  every  one  repulsed,  and  that  one  man  came  within 
fifty  feet  of  the  stone  wall;  that  the  field  was  literally  covered  with  the 
dead  and  wounded,  and  that  "the  dead  were  piled  sometimes  three 
deep";  that  after  the  third  assault  the  dead  and  wounded  seriously 
impeded  the  advance  of  the  assailants. 

This  condition  existed  all  along  the  line.  The  most  desperate 
valor  was  displayed  by  the  Northern  soldiers,  even  though  the  humblest 
private  was  fully  convinced  that  the  attack  could  not  succeed.  Much 
has  been  said  of  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg,  later  in  the  war,  but  in 
that  charge  there  was  some  hope  that  the  15,000  men  hurled  against  one 
point  of  the  Union  line  might  succeed,  but  here  there  was  none;  and 
brave  men  faced  almost  certain  death  without  any  expectation  of  success. 

Tennyson  has  sung  of  the  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,  and  said 
"someone  had  blundered."  That  charge  cost  but  about  fifty  lives,  but 
the    ground   was    covered   by    thousands    because   one    had    blundered. 

Gen.  Hooker,  seeing  the  hopelessness  of  continuing  the  struggle, 
sent  an  aid  to  Burnside  to  express  his  views  and  finally  went  in  person 
to  protest,  but  all  to  no  avail;  and  the  struggle  went  on.  When  night 
put  an  end  to  the  struggle,  1200  gallant  men  were  with  the  dead,  and 
ten  times  that  number  had  been  wounded  or  were  among  the  missing. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Gen.  Burnside  was  resolved  to  renew  the 
struggle  the  next  day  and  to  lead  the  assault  in  person.  He  issued 
orders  to  this  effect,  and  was  only  deterred  from  his  resolution  by  the 
united  protest  of  all  his  corps  commanders. 

It  did  not  take  long  for  the  army  to  realize  that  a  stupendous 
blunder  had  been  committed,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  morale 
of  the  army  rapidly  sank  to  a  low  point.  The  idea  was  openly  expressed 
that  the  South  could  not  be  whipped,  certainly  not  unless  a  great  gen- 
eral could  be  found  capable  of  leading  the  Union  army,  and  yet  Burnside 
was  retained  as  the  commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  was 
to  add  the  dismal  "Mud  March"  to  his  record  before  he  was  removed. 

After  fifty  years  of  thinking  and  reading,  we  have  failed  to  see  or 
find  a  single  reason  why  the  common  soldier  in  the  ranks  was  not 
right  when  his  judgment  told  him  it  was  simply  an  awful,  useless  sac- 
rifice of  life  for  Gen.  Burnside  to  hurl  his  devoted  army  against  a 
strongly  entrenched  foe  on  the  heights  of  St.  Marye,  and  the  wonder 
has  grown  during  all  these  years  that  the  authorities  at  Washington 
should  have  permitted  it.  During  all  the  war,  at  least  up  to  the  time 
when  Grant  took  the  supreme  command,  the  authorities  at  Washington 
knew  in  advance  every  contemplated  move  of  the  army,  but  in  this  case 
the  manner  of  assault  could  not  have  been  known  by  them. 

One  incident  connected  with  the  battle  may  be  mentioned  here, 
though  I  was  not  personally  concerned.  At  the  time  the  march  to 
the  pontoons  commenced,  Co.s   F  and   C  were  on  picket   duty,  and, 

PAGE    FIFTY-THREE 


either  through  an  oversight  or  design  to  keep  the  picket  line  intact  and 
thus  deceive  the  enemy  as  to  the  movement  being  made,  no  orders  were 
given  for  their  withdrawal.  After  the  12th  regiment  had  crossed  the 
pontoons,  Lt.  Col.  Marsh  went  back  to  the  west  shore  and  withdrew 
these  companies,  but  so  great  was  his  haste  that  he  forgot  the  men 
posted  on  the  picket  line.  Sergt.  H.  A.  Randolph  in  charge  of  the 
pickets  from  these  companies  discovered  the  true  situation  a  few  minutes 
later,  and  they  proceeded  on  the  double  quick  to  the  river,  which  they 
reached  just  as  the  last  planks  were  being  removed  from  the  pontoons, 
but  they  passed  over  in  safety. 

After  marching  through  the  mud  and  rain  till  8  o'clock  on  Tuesday, 
the  16th,  the  12th  regiment  entered  its  old  camp  and  took  possession  of 
its  old  quarters. 

On  arriving  in  camp,  rounds  of  cheers  were  given  for  Col.  Potter 
and  Lt.  Col.  Marsh.  The  regiment  had  passed  through  a  battle  where 
the  losses  had  been  appalling  and  had  suffered  but  little.  The  reason 
for  its  good  fortune  undoubtedly  was  that  it  had  in  common  with  the 
rest  of  the  3d  corps  been  on  reserve.  Different  portions  of  the  corps 
had  been  detached  from  time  to  time  to  strengthen  weak  points,  or  repel 
expected  attacks.  The  12th  had  been  moved  from  point  to  point  with 
the  same  end  in  view,  and,  fortunately,  had  escaped  the  brunt  of  the 
battle.  In  every  case  its  officers  had  obeyed  orders,  but,  in  the  minds  of 
the  masses,  it  was  Col.  Potter's  superior  judgment  that  had  saved  them; 
and  the  same  lack  of  reason  that  had  failed  to  see  any  good  in  him  up  to 
this  time,  because  he  was  not  their  chosen  leader,  now  gave  him  the 
credit  of  their  good  fortune.  From  that  time  forward  he  was  the  idol 
of  the  regiment.  Soon  after  this,  the  officers  made  the  colonel  the 
present  of  a  fine  horse  costing  $200,  and  then  the  enlisted  men,  not  to 
be  outdone,  contributed  $230.  They  sent  a  sergeant  to  Washington 
and  had  a  saddle  and  bridle  made  to  order,  costing  $200,  and  both  were 
formally  presented  to  the  colonel,  who  was  deeply  affected  by  this 
manifestation  of  good  will. 

The  change  of  feeling  of  the  men  of  the  regiment  towards  its  com- 
mander was  extended  to  the  governor  of  the  state.  His  appointment 
had  proven  wise,  and  so  they  were  willing  to  forgive  the  past,  and  he 
was  invited  to  visit  the  regiment.  The  governor  gladly  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  a  royal  welcome  was  extended  him.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  J.  C.  Draper  and  David  Mason,  both  of  Bristol.  General 
Whipple,  the  division  commander,  had  a  review  of  his  division,  in  honor 
of  the  governor  and  in  the  evening,  there  was  a  notable  gathering  of 
distinguished  officers,  in  the  12th  quarters.  The  governor  shook  hands 
with  the  men,  and  speeches  were  made  by  General  Bowman,  and 
responded  to  by  the  governor.  Lieut.  John  H.  Durgin,  of  the  12th, 
spoke  words  of  weleome  in  behalf  of  the  regiment. 


PAGE    FIFTY- FOUR 


CHAPTER  VI 
CAMP  AND  HOSPITAL 

Life  in  camp  soon  resumed  much  the  same  order  as  before  the  bat- 
tle, and  we  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  no  other  move  would  be 
made  that  winter.  With  this  in  view,  most  of  the  tents  were  rebuilt  on 
a  larger  scale.  My  tent  was  enlarged  to  7  x  9  feet,  and  the  walls  made 
four  feet  high,  and  it  was  7  feet  to  the  ridgepole,  which  enabled  one  to 
stand  upright  in  the  center.  In  one  end  we  had  two  bunks,  one  above 
the  other,  each  for  two  men,  which  left  about  half  the  space  for  a  living 
room.  On  one  side  we  had  a  large  fireplace  to  furnish  heat  and  enable 
us  to  do  a  part  of  our  cooking,  though  most  of  this  was  done  by  the 
company  cooks.  My  tent  mates  at  this  time  were  Louis  Rowe  of  Bris- 
tol, Rev.  Asa  Witham  of  Laconia,  and  William  H.  Straw  of  Hill. 

While  in  camp  at  Falmouth,  the  making  of  baker's  bread  was 
commenced  for  the  3d  Corps  near  our  quarters.  The  levelled  ground 
constituted  the  bottom  of  the  ovens,  and  on  this,  large  concave  sheets 
of  iron,  which  constituted  the  tops,  were  placed,  thus  forming  large 
ovens.  The  tops  were  covered  with  earth,  and  the  heat  from  the  fires 
made  inside  was  thus  retained  for  a  long  time.  Here  most  excellent 
bread  was  baked  by  a  corps  of  bakers,  and  we  thus  enjoyed  the  luxury 
of  a  soft  bread  ration. 

Sunday  morning,  Jan.  11,  Rev.  John  Chamberlain,  of  Canterbury, 
N.  H.,  state  agent  to  look  after  the  New  Hampshire  soldiers,  preached 
to  the  men  of  the  12th.  As  he  was  preparing  to  sing  a  closing  original 
selection,  entitled  "The  Railroad  Hymn,"  Lieut.  Col.  Marsh  interrupted 
him,  saying  he  wished  to  dismiss  the  regiment,  as  he  feared  the  men 
would  take  cold  owing  to  the  damp  weather,  and  he  then  directed  the 
chaplain  to  close  the  services  with  prayer.  Mr.  Chamberlain  felt  insulted 
at  this  action  and  declined  to  preach  in  the  afternoon. 

At  this  time  many  were  sick  and  the  regimental  hospital  was 
crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity.  Fever  was  the  prevailing  sickness, 
but  much  sickness  was  caused  by  homesickness.  Scores  died,  pining  for 
home.  On  Monday  morning,  Jan.  12,  the  remains  of  six,  who  had  died 
during  the  night.,  were  removed  from  the  hospital  tent  and  laid  on  the 
bare  ground  outside.  Among  the  number  was  Milo  Fogg  of  Co.  D. 
When  Comrade  Weeks  was  buried,  Nov.  27,  Fogg  was  asked  to  fall  in 
with  the  rest  of  the  company,  to  attend  the  burial,  but  declined,  and, 
to  the  remark  that  he  might  need  to  be  followed  to  the  grave,  replied 
that  he  did  not  care  whether  anyone  followed  him  to  the  grave  or  not. 

PAGE    FIFTY- FIVE 


It  seemed  a  little  singular  that  Comrade  Fogg  should  be  the  next  to 
need  these  services  from  Co.  D,  but  such  was  the  case.  During  the  next 
24  hours  death  claimed  7  more  of  the  regiment — one  from  Co.  D,  James 
T.  Calley  of  Hill. 

On  the  14th,  Samuel  Page  came  to  visit  the  boys  from  Bristol.  His 
chief  business  was  to  visit  John  F.  Chase  of  Co.  D,  who  was  sick  in  a 
Georgetown  hospital.  The  next  day,  Jan.  15,  I  went  with  Mr.  Page  to 
visit  the  Bristol  boys  in  the  9th  regiment.  From  there  we  went  a  little 
farther,  from  which  point  we  could  view  the  entrenchments  of  the  enemy 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Rappahannock.  On  our  way  back  to  camp  we 
saw  a  long  pontoon  train  moving  up  the  river,  which  clearly  indicated 
a  move  of  the  army  in  the  near  future.  On  our  return,  the  report  of  this 
movement  and  its  significance  was  soon  being  discussed  by  the  entire 
regiment. 

Our  surmises  were  verified,  and  the  next  day,  Friday,  Jan.  16,  the 
first  order  was  received  by  the  12th  regiment,  putting  in  operation  the 
movement  known  in  history  as  the  Mud  March.  Gen.  Burnside  deter- 
mined to  cross  the  Rappahannock  and  flank  the  Confederate  army,  still 
entrenched  at  Fredericksburg.  The  crossing  was  to  be  at  United  States 
ford,  12  miles  above  Fredericksburg,  but  this  plan  changed,  when 
starting,  to  Banks  ford,  four  miles  nearer  Fredericksburg. 

For  the  Mud  March  the  first  order  notified  the  army  to  be  ready  to 
march  at  daylight  the  next  morning  with  three  days'  rations  and  sixty 
rounds  of  ammunition.  When  the  morning  came,  the  order  wai  counter- 
manded and  the  time  of  marching  was  set  for  one  o'clock  on  the  18th. 
Before  this  hour  arrived  the  order  was  again  changed.  On  the  19th 
the  hour  was  again  postponed  for  24  hours. 

About  noon  on  Tuesday,  Jan.  20,  we  started,  but,  after  going  about 
100  rods,  stacked  arms,  and  there  stood  till  sometime  after  dark,  a  cold 
wind  blowing  all  the  time.  About  5  o'clock  it  commenced  to  rain. 
Finally  Col.  Potter  took  the  responsibility  to  march  his  regiment  back 
to  its  old  quarters. 

When  we  reached  our  old  quarters  we  found  that  sick  soldiers  from 
another  regiment  had  taken  possession  of  the  12th  Regt.  encampment, 
and  pitched  their  tents  on  our  old  frameworks.  In  my  tent  were  two 
from  Co.  B,  124th  N.  Y.  Regt.  These  men  were  attracted  to  our  quar- 
ters by  their  attractiveness,  and  the  reputation  of  the  quarters  of  the  12th 
Regt.  for  superiority  extended  throughout  the  corps.  We  could  not 
have  the  heart  to  turn  these  poor  men  out  in  the  cold  and  rain,  so  we 
went  to  work  to  improve  the  situation.  We  built  a  fire,  but  there  were 
now  too  many  of  us  to  lie  down,  and  yet  we  got  some  sleep.  All  night 
long  the  rain  fell  in  torrents. 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  Lieut.  Morrill  came  round  and 
notified  our  company  to  be  ready  to  move  in  one  hour,  so  we  cooked 


PAGE    FIFTY-SIX 


our  breakfast  and  ate  it.  When  we  looked  out  that  morning  the  face  of 
the  country  was  strangely  changed  from  what  it  was  the  day  before, 
being  thickly  covered  with  the  tents  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  as 
it  had  halted  the  afternoon  or  evening  before,  even  our  own  parade 
ground  being  covered.  Previous  to  this  move  there  were  no  other 
troops  in  our  immediate  vicinity. 

About  noon  of  that  day  (Thursday,  Jan.  21),  contrary  to  general 
expectation,  the  advance  movement  was  again  commenced  amid  a 
storm  of  the  elements  and  a  storm  of  curses  from  officers  and  men. 
All  that  afternoon  we  struggled  on  through  mud  more  than  ankle  deep, 
and  went  into  camp  after  covering  only  about  three  miles. 

No  pen  can  properly  describe  that  march.  It  was  through  a  sea 
of  mud.  Roads  were  soon  obliterated  and  no  attempt  was  made  to 
follow  them.  Artillery  and  baggage  trains  were  soon  so  deeply  mired 
that  a  dozen  horses  or  mules  could  hardly  move  one  piece.  Many  of 
the  men,  exhausted  in  trying  to  drag  their  weary  limbs  through  the 
clayey  mud,  in  utter  disregard  of  what  would  be  their  necessity  when 
night  came,  threw  away  their  blankets  and  overcoats,  which  soon  dis- 
appeared in  the  mud  beneath  the  feet  of  the  men. 

From  sheer  inability  to  move  farther,  the  army  went  into  camp  on 
the  second  day  in  woods  about  five  miles  from  our  old  quarters.  During 
our  march  the  rain  continued  to  fall,  and  every  hour  added  to  the  seri- 
ousness of  the  situation.  That  it  would  be  impossible  to  continue  the 
march  and  accomplish  the  object  of  the  move  was  apparent  to  the  hum- 
blest private  in  the  ranks. 

During  the  next  day  (22d),  there  was  no  attempt  made  to  move, 
but  rumors  of  a  return  to  our  old  quarters  were  rife,  and  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  23d  the  whole  army  was  set  to  work  with  all  the  tools  avail- 
able, building  corduroy  roads,  and  these  roads  led  back  to  camp 
instead  of  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy. 

About  4  o'clock  of  that  day  we  commenced  our  march  back, 
cheered  by  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun,  which  had  now  commenced  to 
shine.  On  arriving  at  our  old  quarters,  a  gill  of  whisky  was  issued 
to  each  man. 

Fighting  Joe  Hooker 

At  this  time  the  morale  of  the  army  was  at  a  low  ebb.  The  whole 
history  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  not  such  as  to  inspire  confi- 
dence, and  under  the  command  of  General  Burnside  had  come  the  dis- 
aster of  Fredericksburg  and  now  the  folly  of  the  Mud  March.  The  men 
in  the  ranks  could  reason,  and,  judging  the  future  by  the  past,  some 
thought  it  useless  to  continue  the  struggle,  and  nearly  all  looked  into 
the  future  with  many  misgivings. 

The  authorities  at  Washington  finally  grasped  the  situation,  and 
on  the  25th  of  January  Gen.  Burnside  was  relieved  and  Gen.  Hooker 
placed  in  command  of  the  army. 

PAGE    FIFTY-SEVEN 


Great  things  were  expected  of  Fighting  Joe  Hooker,  and  instantly 
there  was  a  change  for  the  better.  One  of  the  first  orders  issued  by  Gen. 
Hooker  was  one  allowing  one  or  two  men  in  each  hundred  a  furlough  of 
15  days.  This  order  alone  wonderfully  revived  the  spirits  of  the  men. 
One  of  my  tent  mates,  Elder  Witham,  was  the  first  to  go  from  Co.  D. 
Sergt.  H.  A.  Randolph,  of  Co.  C,  was  granted  a  furlough,  but  the  day 
before  he  was  to  start  for  home  he  had  the  misfortune  to  break  his  leg. 
Some  of  the  men  thus  favored  failed  to  return,  and  the  result  was  that 
after  the  first  installment  few  furloughs  were  granted.  I  had  been 
informed  by  the  company  officers  that  I  would  probably  be  the  next 
choice  from  Co.  D,  but  no  more  furloughs  were  granted  from  our  com- 
pany or  regiment. 

On  Saturday,  the  31st  day  of  January,  1863,  the  12th  Regt.  was, 
for  the  first  time,  detailed  for  picket  duty.  After  this,  the  regiment 
was  detailed  for  this  duty  about  once  in  three  weeks.  Our  position  was 
usually  near  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock  from  three  to  five  miles 
from  camp,  and  our  term  of  service  was  three  or  four  days.  On  one 
occasion  we  were  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river  and  could  plainly  see 
the  enemy's  pickets  on  the  other  side  and  talked  with  them.  At  this 
time  their  pickets  rigged  up  a  board  or  plank  with  a  sail  and  loaded 
on  it  some  tobacco  and  a  southern  paper,  and  we  agreed  to  send  back 
some  delicacy  and  a  northern  paper,  in  return.  The  craft  was  put  in 
motion  and  sailed  straight  for  our  shore,  but  when  nearly  across,  it  was 
capsized  by  a  sudden  squall,  and  their  efforts  came  to  naught  at  that 
time.  At  other  times  the  exchange  of  compliments  between  the  pickets 
was  successful  and  far  more  agreeable  than  exchanges  of  bullets  under 
other  circumstances. 

On  one  occasion  I  was  one  of  a  provost  guard  that  scoured  the 
country  outside  of  our  lines  for  suspicious  characters.  We  made 
several  arrests,  and  I  was  sent  back  to  camp  with  one  man  who  was 
on  horseback,  but  the  fact  that  he  was  mounted  was  about  all  that 
could  be  proved  against  him,  so  he  was  released. 

On  one  of  these  trips  we  were  made  very  uncomfortable  by  a  heavy 
fall  of  snow,  and,  when  we  returned  to  our  old  quarters,  we  found  the 
weight  of  the  snow  had  broken  down  the  cloth  roofs  of  our  quarters. 

Previous  to  this  the  12th  Regt.  had  not  been  brigaded,  but  had  been 
in  the  3d  division  of  the  3d  Army  Corps,  commanded  by  Gen.  Stoneman. 
On  the  8th  of  February,  orders  announced  the  resignation  of  Gen. 
Stoneman.  Gen.  Sickles  succeeded  him  in  the  command  of  the  3d  corps, 
and  on  Feb.  19,  the  12th  Regt.  was  brigaded  with  the  1st  and  2d 
regiments    U.  S.  Sharpshooters  and  the  110  Penn.  Vols. 

On  the  6th  of  March,  the  regiment  was  in  line  preparatory  to  march- 
ing to  the  picket  line,  when  there  was  an  exhibition  of  the  impetuous 
temper  of  Lt.-Col.  Marsh.     Sergt.  Frank  Darling  of  Co.  C,  a  Bristol 


PAGE    FIFTY-EIGHT 


boy,  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  on  account  of  illness.  Col.  Marsh 
called  him  from  his  quarters  and  cut  the  stripes  from  his  arms  in  the 
presence  of  the  regiment.  Dr.  Fowler  appeared  about  this  time  and 
swore  Darling  was  not  able  to  go  on  picket,  and  should  not  go.  The 
surgeon  could  excuse  a  man  from  duty  in  spite  of  the  commanding  offi- 
cer, but  he  could  not  prevent  Darling  from  being  reduced  to  the  ranks, 
and  so  he  had  to  suffer  unjustly. 

On  Wednesday,  March  11,  after  battalion  drill  the  regiment  was 
formed  en  masse  and  13  prisoners,  members  of  the  regiment,  were 
brought  up  and  the  sentences  of  a  general  court  martial  read.  Most  of 
these  were  men  who  had  deserted  in  front  of  Fredericksburg.  One 
member  of  my  company,  William  Martin,  of  Sanbornton  Bridge,  had 
been  tried  for  desertion  at  the  time  the  regiment  started  on  the  Mud 
March.  Martin  was  sentenced  to  forfeit  $10  per  month  of  his  pay  for 
the  remainder  of  his  term  of  service  and  to  be  kept  at  hard  labor  at  the 
Rip  Raps.  The  hard  labor  part  of  this  sentence  was  remitted,  and 
Martin  continued  with  his  company,  and  fought  valiantly  at  Chancel- 
lorsville  a  few  weeks  later,  dying  from  the  effects  of  wounds  there 
received. 

On  the  17th  the  monotony  of  camp  life  was  broken  by  the  sound  of 
heavy  cannonading  up  the  river.  The  day  before  a  large  force  of  our 
cavalry  crossed  the  river  to  return  a  call  made  by  the  rebel  cavalry  a 
short  time  before,  and  this  morning  a  sharp  engagement  ensued,  but 
without  material  results,  and  this  was  the  firing  we  heard. 

The  same  day  an  order  was  read  at  dress  parade,  making  me  a  ser- 
geant. This  promotion  elated  me  more  than  any  other  advancement  or 
honor  conferred  upon  me  in  the  army  or  in  civil  life.  It  carried  an  in- 
crease in  pay  of  only  two  dollars  a  month,  so  money  was  not  thought  of 
in  this  connection,  but  I  had  been  promoted  for  doing  my  duty  at  Fred- 
ericksburg, and  that  was  of  great  moment  to  me.  A  day  or  two  later, 
a  large  number  of  express  boxes — two  army  wagon  loads — were  received 
from  their  homes  by  the  boys.  I  was  one  of  the  favored  ones  and  in 
my  box  was  a  great  variety  of  cooked  food — great  delicacies — and  per- 
haps a  quart  of  popping  corn.  I  had  wanted  to  treat  the  boys  on  the 
occasion  of  my  promotion  and  now  the  question  of  how  to  do  it  was 
solved.  I  popped  the  whole  of  that  corn  for  a  treat.  While  engaged 
in  popping  this  corn  its  fragrance  drew  many  of  the  comrades  to  my 
tent,  and  the  only  way  to  escape  a  premature  treat  was  to  divulge  my 
plans.  Thus  all  the  boys  knew  what  was  coming  and  all  were  on  hand, 
and  as  soon  as  the  treat  was  ready  they  fell  into  line,  marched  past  my 
quarters,  and  each  received  a  portion.  This  made  all  the  boys  happy, 
including  the  giver.  It  was  a  choice  morsel  and  a  vivid  reminder  of 
other  days  around  the  home  circle. 


PAGE    FIFTY-NINE 


Lincoln  Reviews  the  Army 

On  the  6th  of  April,  I  witnessed  a  grand  review  of  the  cavalry  and 
artillery  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  by  President  Lincoln,  on  the  plain, 
about  a  mile  from  our  encampment.  There  were  15,000  or  20,000  horse- 
men and  many  batteries.  It  was  a  most  impressive  exhibition.  Two 
hours  were  occupied  in  passing  the  president,  and  the  tramp  of  the 
horses  over  the  soft  ground  sounded  like  a  distant  waterfall. 

The  next  day  President  Lincoln  visited  the  various  encampments. 
Our  regiment  was  drawn  up  in  line  to  receive  him.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  a  large  number  of  generals  and  their  staffs,  and  a  regiment 
of  Lancers  followed  behind  as  a  body  guard.  President  Lincoln  wore 
a  tall  black  hat,  his  feet  nearly  reached  to  the  ground,  and  his  great 
height,  clothed  in  civilian's  dress  as  he  was,  was  in  striking  contrast  to 
the  rest  of  the  company.  As  he  passed  along  the  front  of  our  line  the 
regiment  presented  arms,  the  drum  corps  played  and  then  the  boys  all 
joined  in  giving  lusty  cheers.  President  Lincoln  returned  the  salute 
by  raising  his  hat. 

This  visit  was  preceded  by  a  humorous  event.  The  president  and 
retinue  passed  through  the  regimental  street  to  reach  the  parade  ground. 
In  this  street  a  limb  of  a  tree  projected  over  the  street  high  enough  for 
the  ordinary  man  mounted,  wearing  a  military  hat,  to  pass  under,  but 
the  tall  hat  which  Lincoln  wore  came  in  contact  with  that  limb,  and  the 
hat  fell  to  the  ground.  An  orderly  promptly  handed  the  hat  to  the 
owner,  who  replaced  it  on  his  head.  This  was  in  plain  view  of  the  regi- 
ment and  of  course  a  smile  passed  along  the  line  as  the  result. 

The  next  day  President  Lincoln  reviewed  the  infantry  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  Although  each  battalion  marched  in  close  order  by 
division,  three  hours  were  consumed  in  passing  the  reviewing  stand. 
In  general  orders  issued  after  the  review,  the  12th  was  one  of  the  regi- 
ments commended  for  its  good  appearance,  and  worthy  of  special  praise. 
The  sight  was  a  grand  one,  but  would  have  been  enjoyed  more  by  all, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  a  cold  piercing  wind  blew  all  day,  and 
we  had  several  hours  of  waiting  to  do  in  heavy  marching  order,  before 
our  turn  came,  and  then,  too,  came  the  thought  that  this  great  army  was 
only  assembled  to  meet  another  great  army,  each  bent  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  other. 


PAGE    SIXTY 


CHAPTER  VII 
CHANCELLORSVILLE 

By  the  middle  of  April  came  signs  that  the  great  campaign  of  1863 
was  about  to  open.  The  15th  of  the  month  brought  with  it  the  greatest 
downpour  of  rain  of  the  season,  but  pleasant  weather  was  sure  to  follow, 
and  the  same  day  came  orders  to  be  ready  to  march  with  three  days' 
rations  in  the  haversack  and  five  in  the  knapsacks.  We  were  also 
ordered  to  take  rubber  blankets  and  shelter  tents,  but  no  woolen  blank- 
ets and  no  extra  clothing  except  overcoats. 

In  order  the  better  to  understand  the  part  played  by  the  12th  Regt , 
N.  H.  Vols.,  in  which  I  was  an  actor,  a  brief  account  of  the  general  sit- 
uation and  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  is  here  given. 

Gen.  Lee  still  held  the  Confederate  army  on  Marye's  heights,  back 
of  Fredericksburg,  in  a  strong  position  behind  entrenchments.  Gen. 
Hooker  was  in  command  of  the  Federal  forces.  Great  things  were 
expected  of  "Fighting  Joe  Hooker."  He  had  a  superb  army  of  130,000 
enthusiastic,  well-disciplined  troops,  who  had  unbounded  faith  in  their 
leader,  despite  the  reverses  that  had  attended  their  efforts  under  other 
leadership.  Lee  had  an  army  of  only  about  60,000.  Hooker's  plan  of 
the  battle  has  always  been  considered  a  wise  one.  It  was  to  attack  the 
Confederates  in  their  rear,  and  thus  force  them  to  meet  him  in  the  open, 
where  his  superiority  in  numbers  would  count.  With  this  end  in  view, 
he  sent  Gen.  Sedgwick  in  command  of  three  army  corps,  the  1st,  3d,  and 
6th,  to  make  a  demonstration  below  Fredericksburg  to  give  the  impres- 
sion that  the  main  attack  was  to  be  at  this  point.  With  the  main  body 
of  the  army  he  marched  27  miles  up  the  east  bank  of  the  Rappahannock, 
crossed  the  river  at  Kelley's  ford,  and  then  down  the  river  to  Chancel- 
lorsville, a  few  miles  only  above  Fredericksburg,  and  there  halted,  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  at  once  assumed  the  offensive.  This  gave  Gen. 
Lee  an  immense  advantage.  He  hurled  the  larger  part  of  his  force  on 
weak  points  on  Hooker's  line  and  then  hurled  the  same  men  against 
Gen.  Sedgwick,  who  was  advancing  from  the  south  with  22,000  men  and 
defeated  him. 

Gen.  Hooker  had  marched  his  army  through  the  thick  woods  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river  in  which  no  army  could  be  maneuvered  to 
advantage,  and  reached  the  open  country  north  of  Fredericksburg, 
where  his  superiority  in  numbers  would  have  counted — the  very  spot 
that  he  seemingly  intended  to  reach,  and  there  halted.  Here  he  seemed 
to  have  experienced  a  mental  collapse,  and  in  every  respect  was  unequal 

PAGE    SIXTY-ONE 


to  the  occasion.  The  enigma  of  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  has 
never  been  solved  and  probably  never  will  be.  The  charge  of  drunken- 
ness on  the  part  of  Hooker,  largely  believed  by  the  army  after  the 
battle,  was  disproved  by  a  court  of  inquiry,  and  if  the  findings  of  the 
court  were  correct,  the  contentions  of  his  friends  may  also  be  correct, 
and  that  was  that  Gen.  Hooker  resolved  to  be  in  his  normal  condition 
at  this  time  and  therefore  took  no  stimulants,  and  his  mind,  therefore, 
accustomed  as  it  was  to  daily  draughts  of  intoxicants,  failed  to  act  with 
its  usual  vigor — in  fact,  that  he  collapsed  from  the  want  of  stimulants. 
Whichever  point  of  view  is  taken  one  sees  in  the  result  a  tremendous 
temperance  lesson.  There  is  another  view  taken  by  some  of  the  con- 
dition of  Gen.  Hooker,  and  that  is  that  the  long  and  severe  strain  on 
his  nerves  in  planning  the  campaign  and  executing  the  first  part  of  it 
had  resulted  of  itself  in  a  collapse  of  his  mental  capacity — that  his  mind 
ceased  to  act.  He  had  been  unable  to  rise  to  the  supreme  importance 
of  the  hour  when  his  full  vigor  was  most  needed.  The  same  has 
occurred  in  the  history  of  other  great  generals,  and  even  of  Napoleon 
himself,  when,  after  long  continued  strain,  the  mind  refused  to  work 
till  rested.  "Psychologists  tell  us  that  these  transitions  are  frequently  of 
lightning-like  suddenness,"  and  so  here  may  have  been  a  cause  for 
which  Hooker  was  not  responsible. 

After  having  reached  the  open  country,  and  with  victory  almost 
in  his  grasp,  he  ordered  his  advance  back  into  the  woods,  and  then 
assumed  the  defensive.  The  point  vacated  was  near  Banks  ford,  less 
than  three  miles  above  Fredericksburg,  where  a  junction  was  expected 
with  Sedgewick,  who  was  fighting  his  way  up  from  below  the  city. 
On  the  north  side  of  the  river  at  this  ford  was  massed  a  large  artillery 
force,  ammunition  and  army  trains,  which  were  to  join  the  main  army 
as  soon  as  the  ford  was  uncovered.  This  order  was  such  a  surprise  to 
the  commanding  officers  that  Gen.  Couch  sought  to  have  it  recalled, 
but  to  no  effect,  and  it  was  reluctantly  obeyed.  When  falling  back, 
the  order  was  countermanded,  but  it  was  too  late;  the  enemy  had 
already  occupied  the  position  vacated.  This  move  sealed  the  fate  of  the 
battle.  Gen.  Lee  at  once  occupied  the  ground  abandoned  by  the  Union 
troops  and  was  able  to  whip  the  Union  army  in  detail. 

On  Saturday,  the  second  day  of  the  fight,  in  the  afternoon,  a  large 
body  of  Confederates  were  seen  moving  west  along  the  front  of  the 
Union  army.  Gen.  Hooker  deluded  himself  that  these  troops  were 
retreating,  but  they  proved  to  be  Gen.  Jackson's  force  of  35,000  men 
marching  17  miles  to  attack  the  army  on  the  left  flank  and  rear.  The 
11th  corps,  under  Gen.  Howard,  occupied  the  extreme  left,  facing  south 
and  was  in  no  position  to  meet  an  attack  from  the  west  and  rear.  Gen. 
Schurz,  who  commanded  a  division  of  this  corps,  asserts  that  he  was 
convinced,  and  so  were  many  other  officers  of  his   division,  that   the 


PAGE    SIXTY-TWO 


troops  seen  were  not  retreating  but  marching  to  gain  a  position  at  their 
right  and  rear  and  so  reported  repeatedly  to  Gen.  Howard,  but  he 
shared  the  opinion  of  Gen.  Hooker  so  strongly  as  to  the  retreat  that  no 
new  alignment  of  the  corps  was  made  to  meet  the  assault  of  Gen. 
Jackson.  Towards  night  the  assault  came  with  terrific  force,  and  the 
disastrous  rout  of  the  11th  corps  occurred,  threatening  the  safety  of  the 
entire  army.  This  corps  was  composed  largely  of  Germans,  and  for 
a  long  time  these  loyal  Germans  rested  under  the  stigma  of  being 
cowards,  when  the  responsibility  of  their  defeat  rested  largely  on  the 
shoulders  of  Gen.  Howard. 

But  the  attack  under  Jackson  on  the  11th  corps  was  dearly  bought 
for  its  intrepid  leader,  late  in  the  evening,  while  reconnoitering  was 
severely  wounded  by  his  own  men,  and  died  a  few  days  later;  and  the 
Confederate  army  lost  its  most  valuable  leader,  next  to  Lee,  and  his 
next  in  command  also  fell. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  fight,  when  the  12th  Regiment  suffered  so 
severely,  had  Hooker  thrown  his  reserve  into  action  victory  might  even 
then  have  been  won,  for  35,000  troops  under  Meade  had  not  fired  a 
gun.  Unfortunately  on  this  day  during  the  fiercest  of  the  fight  Gen. 
Hooker  was  incapacitated  by  a  shot  which  struck  a  pillar  at  the  Chan- 
cellorsville  house  against  which  he  was  leaning,  and  he  was  rendered 
unconscious;  and  remained  so  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  no  one  stepped 
into  his  place. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  army  retreated,  and  imbecility  even  in  retreat 
was  shown  by  Gen.  Hooker.  He  and  his  staff  crossed  the  river  at 
United  States  ford  and  left  the  army  to  follow.  A  great  rain  raised 
the  river  to  the  danger  point,  and  one  of  the  three  bridges  was  used  to 
strengthen  the  other  two,  and  here,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river  wait- 
ing to  cross,  were  massed  from  7,000  to  8,000  troops.  A  single  shell 
thrown  into  this  mass  of  humanity  might  have  caused  a  panic  that 
would  have  been  fearful  to  contemplate,  but,  fortunately  for  the  Union 
army,  Gen.  Lee  was  willing  that  they  should  depart  without  making 
any  effort  to  impede  their  movement. 

The  losses  of  the  Union  army  are  given  in  official  records  as  1,082 
killed;  6,849  wounded;  4,214  captured  or  missing;  a  total  of  12,145. 

With  these  explanatory  notes  we  resume  our  narrative.  The 
orders  to  be  ready  to  march  came  as  before  stated  Apr.  15,  but  no 
movement  was  made  till  2  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  Apr.  28.  Then 
the  boys  fell  in  in  remarkably  good  spirits,  considering  the  possible 
work  ahead,  and  some  jocosely  remarked  we  were  starting  for  Rich- 
mond or  the  grave.  With  Joe  Hooker  to  lead  or  direct  all  felt  sure  of 
success.  We  marched  briskly  most  of  the  time  for  three  or  four  hours 
without  rest,  then  loitered  along  with  frequent  stops,  but  without 
orders  to  rest  till  after  eleven  o'clock  p.  m.,  when  we  bivouacked  for 


PAGE    SIXTY-THREE 


the  balance  of  the  night.  We  laid  our  rubbers  on  the  ground,  put  on 
our  overcoats,  spread  shelter  tents  over  us,  and,  though  cold,  slept 
soundly. 

The  next  morning  we  were  awakened  by  the  sound  of  musketry 
and  cannon,  and  about  7  o'clock  we  fell  in  and  marched  about  a  mile 
further  south  to  a  place  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Rappahannock,  below 
Fredericksburg.  There  we  lay  all  day,  which  was  a  mystery  to  us 
then,  but  we  later  knew  that  our  march  to  this  point  was  simply  to 
blind  the  enemy  as  to  the  real  purpose  of  Hooker.  Three  corps,  the 
1st,  3d  and  6th  under  Gen.  Sedgewick,  had  marched  to  this  point  below 
the  city  to  give  the  enemy  the  idea  that  the  real  attack  was  to  be  made 
there,  while  Hooker,  with  the  main  army,  was  intending  to  attack  the 
enemy  on  its  left  flank,  above  the  city  at  Chancellorsville.  A  portion 
of  these  troops,  about  12,000,  had  crossed  the  river  on  pontoons,  and 
had  deployed  in  line  of  battle  below  the  city.  The  3d  corps,  under 
Sickles,  in  which  was  the  12th  Regiment,  was  held  on  the  east  bank, 
but  in  plain  view  of  the  enemy  in  order  to  carry  out  the  delusion. 
From  the  point  where  we  spent  the  day  I  could  see  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river  both  armies  drawn  up  in  battle  array,  but  neither  side 
sought  to  bring  on  an  engagement.  A  captive  baloon  high  in  the  air 
above  us  was  making  observations. 

We  remained  here  over  night  and  the  morning  hours  were  wear- 
ing away  when  a  courier  dashes  up  and  hands  a  paper  to  the  adjutant. 
This  was  read  at  once  to  the  regiment  and  was  an  order  from  Gen. 
Hooker,  in  which  he  said  that  the  operations  of  the  last  three  days  had 
determined  that  the  enemy  must  ingloriously  fly  or  come  out  from  be- 
hind his  defenses  and  fight  us  on  our  own  ground,  "where  certain  de- 
struction awaited  him." 

The  men  went  wild  with  joy.  Hats  and  caps  went  into  the  air, 
and  they  cheered  as  they  never  had  cheered  before.  The  same  news 
was  given  to  the  other  regiments,  and  cheering  and  martial  music  were 
heard  in  all  directions. 

Whether  there  was  sufficient  ground  for  this  exuberance  of  spirit 
on  the  part  of  the  commanding  general,  is  a  matter  of  doubt,  but  it 
served  a  good  purpose  and  wonderfully  sustained  the  men  during  the 
test  of  endurance  that  the  later  hours  of  the  day  were  to  call  forth. 

While  this  show  of  force  was  being  made  south  of  Fredericks- 
burg, Hooker  was  crossing  the  Rappahannock  above,  as  before  stated. 
The  next  move  was  for  the  3d  Corps  under  Sickles  to  join  Hooker,  in 
the  shortest  time  possible.  Leaving  Sedgewick  with  his  two  corps 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  river,  the  3d  Corps  started  about  1  o'clock 
p.  m.  on  a  forced  march  for  the  right  wing  of  the  army.  It  made  a 
long  detour  from  the  river,  keeping  in  the  ravines  or  out  of  sight  as 
much   as  possible,   hoping,   though   it   would   seem   without   reason,   to 


PAGE    SIXTY-FOUR 


keep  this  movement  from  the  knowledge  of  the  enemy.  That  Gen. 
Lee  knew  of  these  movements  and  their  object  is  a  matter  of  history. 

The  day  was  intensely  hot,  the  dry  clayey  soil  of  Virginia  was 
quickly  transformed  into  dust  by  the  marching  men,  horses  and  artil- 
lery, and  the  air  was  so  heavily  laden  with  the  particles  of  earth  that 
one  could  see  but  a  few  feet  in  any  direction.  Water  was  scarce,  and 
the  halts  to  find  it  or  to  rest  were  very  few.  On,  on  we  pressed, 
much  of  the  time  on  almost  the  double  quick,  until  it  seemed  that  each 
step  must  be  the  last.  My  feet  were  sore  and  blistered,  but  I  was  not 
as  badly  off  as  many  others  whose  shoes  had  given  out  entirely.  All 
along,  the  route  was  strewn  with  blankets,  overcoats  and  shelter  tents, 
thrown  away  by  the  men  to  lighten  their  loads. 

Finally  at  about  1  o'clock  that  night,  having  reached  a  point  near 
Hartwood  church,  18  or  20  miles  from  where  we  had  started,  a  halt 
was  called  for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

As  soon  as  the  order  was  given  for  a  halt,  a  rush  was  made  for  a 
small  sandy  brook  close  by,  and  so  anxious  were  the  men  for  a  drink 
or  to  secure  water  for  coffee,  or  their  canteens,  that  they  got  into  the 
stream  like  a  herd  of  cattle  and  soon  the  water  was  thick  with  sand. 
Up  to  this  time  I  had  acted  on  a  school  boy  notion  that  coffee  was 
injurious,  but  this  night  I  drank  hot  coffee  and,  though  I  strained  it 
as  well  as  I  could  through  my  lips  to  keep  as  much  of  the  sand  as  pos- 
sible from  entering  my  mouth,  I  found  it  so  refreshing  that  I  was 
henceforth  a  great  coffee  drinker. 

Coffee  and  hardtack  promptly  disposed  of,  it  was  but  the  work  of 
a  minute  to  spread  our  blankets  on  the  ground,  and  we  were  soon  in 
blissful  sleep. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  reveille  sounded,  and  we  opened 
our  eyes  and  arose  from  our  beds  sore  and  stiff  from  the  overexertions 
of  the  day  before. 

As  soon  as  a  hasty  breakfast  had  been  swallowed,  the  march  was 
resumed,  but  we  did  not  march  as  fast,  or  as  far,  as  the  day  before. 
We  had  evidently  arrived  within  supporting  distance  of  the  right  wing 
and  so  there  was  not  the  necessity  for  haste  that  existed  then.  We 
crossed  the  Rappahannock  on  pontoons  at  United  States  ford,  near 
Chancellorsville,  and  our  march  was  practically  over  by  noon.  Within 
less  than  24  hours  from  the  time  of  starting  the  day  before  we  had 
covered  nearly  or  quite  30  miles.  Considering  that  each  man  carried 
his  musket  and  equipments,  knapsack,  haversack,  and  canteen,  perhaps 
40  lbs.  in  all,  besides  extra  rations  for  five  days,  the  march  was  a  great 
feat. 

Soon  after  crossing  the  ford,  we  entered  extensive  woods  on  the 
south  side  of  the  river  and  we  could  hear  firing  occasionally  a  little 
way    in    advance.     This    continued    for   some    hours.     At    four   o'clock, 


PAGE    SIXTY-FIVE 


by  command  of  the  colonel,  every  man  snapped  a  cap  on  the  tube  of 
his  musket  to  clear  it,  loaded  his  piece,  and  then  fell  in  in  light  march- 
ing order,  one  man  of  each  company  being  left  to  guard  the  packs. 
We  marched  toward  the  front  about  two  miles,  and  formed  in  line  of 
battle,  where  we  remained  till  half  past  ten  o'clock.  After  sunset  the 
air  was  very  chilly,  and  we  gladly  obeyed  the  command  to  return  to 
the  place  where  we  had  left  our  packs,  where  we  bivouacked  for  four 
hours,  and  then  again  fell  in,  taking  all  our  belongings  with  us.  The 
first  gun  of  the  day  was  fired  about  5  o'clock,  and  desultory  firing  was 
now  kept  up  almost  continuously  by  troops  in  advance  of  us. 

Cheering  reports  continued  to  encourage  the  men.  One  was  to 
the  effect  that  Gen.  Hooker  had  the  rebel  army  surrounded  and  would 
hold  them  with  a  fast  grip  till  they  surrendered.  Another  reported 
the  enemy  in  rapid  retreat.  Some  were  ready  to  cheer  at  each  favor- 
able report,  others  expressed  their  doubts,  while  others  hoped  for  the 
best  and  waited.  This  was  Saturday  morning,  May  2,  and  one  of 
those  beautiful  mornings  that  come  to  Virginia  at  this  season  of  the 
year,  but  beneath  her  skies  were  gathered  two  mighty  armies  of  kins- 
men, with  all  the  modern  appliances  of  war,  determined  on  destroying 
each  other. 

Just  before  we  moved,  that  morning,  Rev.  and  Lieutenant  John  M. 
Durgin  mounted  a  stump  and  gave  a  five  minute  patriotic  talk.  He 
reminded  his  hearers  that  the  hour  of  action  had  come,  and  expected 
all  to  do  their  duty  like  men.  Never  a  more  attentive  audience  listened 
to  a  speaker  than  those  who  caught  his  words  in  the  wilderness  of 
Chancellorsville.  The  next  day  the  speaker  was  left  for  dead  on  the 
field. 

After  falling  in  we  marched  to  the  Fredericksburg  plank  road,  and 
on  that  passed  the  Chancellorsville  house,  a  large  two-story,  brick,  plan- 
tation house  where  Hooker  had  established  his  headquarters.  A  short 
distance  beyond  we  turned  to  the  left  and  followed  a  narrow  path 
through  a  piece  of  woods,  and  then  turned  to  the  right,  where  we 
halted  for  two  or  three  hours.  Here  were  signs  that  fighting  had 
taken  place  before  our  arrival.  Rails  from  the  fences  had  been  piled 
up  and  covered  with  green  boughs,  evidently  to  shield  sharp  shooters, 
and  there  were  other  signs  of  fighting.  Our  artillery  on  elevated 
ground  a  little  in  our  advance  was  playing  into  the  enemy's  trains,  and 
it  was  said  that  the  enemy  was  retreating.  Later  it  was  found  that  the 
troops  in  front  were  those  of  Jackson,  marching  to  gain  a  position  in 
the  rear  of  the  11th  Corps.  The  theory  of  a  retreat  was  believed  by 
many,  as  it  was  in  keeping  with  the  information  given  by  Gen.  Hooker, 
but  I  noticed  that  many  who  had  seen  long  service  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  shook  their  heads  in  derision  when  such  an  idea  was  advanced. 

From  this  position  we  advanced  in  line  of  battle.     In  making  this 

PAGE   SIXTY-SIX 


movement  we  came  under  musketry  fire,  but  an  order  to  lie  down  was 
instantly  obeyed  and  only  one  or  two  were  wounded.  Resuming  the 
advance,  we  waded  a  brook  nearly  waist  deep,  and  then  halted.  Cos. 
F  and  G,  the  extreme  left  companies,  were  advanced  farther  than  the 
rest  of  the  regiment,  as  an  advanced  guard,  or  to  cover  a  retreat.  As 
the  left  general  guide  of  the  regiment,  my  place  in  action  was  with  the 
left  company,  so  I  was  with  Co.  F  at  this  time. 

It  was  while  we  were  here  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  tha^  the 
disaster  to  the  11th  Corps  occurred,  and  the  12th  Regt.  was  hastily 
withdrawn.  Cos.  G  and  F  came  near  being  captured,  for,  as  at  Fred- 
ericksburg, no  orders  were  given  for  their  withdrawal  when  the  rest 
of  the  regiment  was  withdrawn  till  Lt.-Col.  Marsh,  obtaining  permis- 
sion, went  back  at  the  risk  of  being  captured  himself,  and  withdrew 
them.  We  marched,  or  double  quicked,  for  nearly  half  a  mile  through 
the  woods  with  Johnnies  on  either  flank,  all  unconscious  of  our  presence, 
or  we  of  theirs,  and  when  we  rejoined  the  rest  of  the  regiment  there 
was  general  rejoicing,  for  all  had  thought  we  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy. 

The  11th  Corps,  occupying  a  position  at  our  right  and  near  where 
we  were  in  the  position  last  spoken  of,  had  been  stampeded  by  an  unex- 
pected onslaught  of  Stonewall  Jackson's  division  of  the  rebel  army 
before  spoken  of.  This  was  nothing  less  than  a  disaster,  and  seriously 
threatened  the  safety  of  the  whole  army.  It  appears  that  all  this  might 
have  been  avoided  had  the  commanding  officer  of  the  11th  Corps,  Gen. 
Howard,  listened  to  frequent  reports  that  the  enemy  were  making 
movements  at  the  right,  that  indicated  an  attack  from  that  direction 
in  the  rear  of  the  11th  Corps. 

But  while  the  panic  stricken  11th  Corps  was  rushing  headlong  to 
the  rear,  followed  by  Jackson's  victorious  troops,  Major  Keenan  and 
his  400  cavalrymen  hurled  themselves  against  the  advancing  foe,  Berry's 
division  of  the  3d  Corps  and  the  bayonet,  and  Sickles  and  Pleasanter 
came  to  their  aid  with  25  cannon,  which  double  shotted  with  grape 
and  canister  covered  the  ground  with  rebel  dead  and  stayed  the  advance 
of  the  enemy.  It  was  just  at  this  time  that  the  12th  Regiment  arrived 
on  the  scene  to  the  support  of  the  batteries. 

We  rested  during  the  night  on  the  ground  fiercely  fought  over 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  day.  Near  by  the  surgeons  were  operat- 
ing on  the  wounded,  and  wet  clothes  and  chilly  winds  were  not  the  only 
cause  of  our  inability  to  sleep  as  we  lay  on  our  arms  that  night,  for  the 
groans  of  the  unfortunates  pierced  the  night  air  and  the  hot  work  sure 
to  come  with  the  morning  was  not  conducive  to  sleep.  Besides, 
there  occasionally  reached  our  ears  the  exultant  cheers  of  the  rebel 
hosts  as  the  news  of  the  victory  of  the  afternoon  spread  from  one  part 
of  the  rebel  army  to  the  other.       About  midnight   Gen.  Birney  made 

PAGE    SIXTY-SEVEN 


an  attack  on  the  enemy  within  full  view  of  our  position,  drove  them 
back  a  short  distance,  and  recaptured  a  part  of  the  11th  Corps  guns. 

With  the  dawn  of  day  our  forces  commenced  to  fall  back  and  make 
new  alignments.  The  rebels  followed  and  commenced  a  spirited  firing, 
when  the  Union  army  faced  about  and  returned  the  fire.  The  12th 
Regt.  at  this  time  was  in  the  second  line  of  battle.  Our  position  was 
along  a  brook,  where  we  were  commanded  to  lie  down.  Perhaps 
forty  rods  in  front,  the  first  line  engaged  the  enemy  and  sought  to 
stay  his  advance.  In  our  rear,  batteries  were  placed  so  near  that  the 
heat  from  the  guns  as  they  were  discharged  was  plainly  felt  by  us, 
and  the  shot  and  shells  screeched  as  they  passed  over  us. 

While  lying  there,  close  to  my  side  were  Henry  and  Uriah  Kidder, 
brothers,  both  from  Bristol.  Uriah  turned  to  me  and  said,  "Richard, 
Henry  is  dead."  I  looked  and  saw  a  ball  had  struck  him  on  the  top 
of  his  head  and  passed  out  near  his  right  eye.  He  did  not  move  after 
being  struck.  He  was  one  of  three  killed  while  we  lay  at  the  brook, 
and  here  quite  a  number  were  wounded. 

After  lying  here  a  while,  Gen.  Whipple,  the  commander  of  our 
division,  directed  Col.  Potter  to  advance  his  regiment  into  the  woods 
and  hold  the  enemy  in  check  at  all  hazard.  It  was  currently  reported 
after  the  fight,  and  generally  believed,  that  a  regiment  at  our  right  re- 
ceived similar  orders,  but  that  no  efforts  of  their  officers  could  induce 
them  to  breast  the  fierce  fire  ahead.  Be  that  as  it  may,  they  did  not 
advance;  and  the  12th  did,  and  here  the  real  work  of  the  day  for  us  com- 
menced. Reaching  the  crest  of  a  hill,  Col.  Potter  halted  his  men  and 
pointing  to  the  woods  beyond  said,  "There  the  devils  are.  Give  them 
hell." 

We  had  reached  a  position  on  a  knoll  near  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
and  the  rebels  were  further  in  the  woods  on  lower  ground  and  on  the 
side  of  a  hill  beyond.  Thus  they  could  see  us  better  than  we  could 
see  them. 

We  poured  a  deadly  fire  into  their  ranks  and  prevented  for  a  time 
a  further  advance  of  this  part  of  their  line,  and  here  we  held  our 
ground  till  all  the  Union  troops  on  our  left  and  right  had  retreated,  and 
the  rebels  had  advanced  to  our  rear  on  both  flanks.  At  one  time  a 
Zouave  regiment  came  to  our  aid  at  our  left,  but  after  firing  one  volley 
retreated  in  double  quick  time.  They  were  old  fighters  and  perhaps 
took  in  the  real  situation  quicker  than  we  did,  for  this  was  our  first 
musketry  engagement,  and  we  did  not  know  enough  to  retreat. 

We  opened  a  brisk  fire  upon  the  Johnnies  the  moment  we  halted, 
and  we  received  as  effective  fire  from  them  in  return,  and  our  men  fell 
rapidly.  We  neither  retreated  nor  advanced,,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
one  half  of  our  men  lay  dead  or  wounded  in  a  long  windrow  along 
our  line.     Capt.  O.  W.  Keyes  of  Ashland,  who  commanded  Co.  D,  at 


PAGE    SIXTY-EIGHT 


that  time,  was  shot  through  the  heart  as  he  stood  close  by  my  side. 
When  struck  he  sprang  into  the  air,  then  dropped  dead  at  my  feet.  He 
had  been  wounded  while  we  were  at  the  brook,  but  refused  to  retire. 
All  the  field  officers  were  wounded  and  all  but  two  of  the  line  officers 
were  among  the  dead  or  wounded. 

Our  men  had  sixty  rounds  of  ammunition  when  we  went  into  the 
fight,  and  they  stood  in  their  tracks  about  an  hour  and  a  half  and  ex- 
pended all  their  ammunition,  and  some  gathered  more  from  the  car- 
tridge boxes  of  the  dead. 

The  non-commissioned  officers  were  provided  with  tourniquets 
made  of  metal  and  an  elastic  band,  for  use  in  case  of  need  in  action. 
I  had  one,  and  during  the  fight  placed  it  around  the  leg  of  Comrade 
George  Swain,  who  was  badly  wounded  in  the  leg.  It  checked  the  flow 
of  blood,  but  the  poor  fellow  died  of  his  wounds  the  same  day. 

Finally,  after  all  had  fallen  or  retired  but  a  handful  of  perhaps  25 
men,  of  whom  I  was  one,  Lieut.  E.  E.  Bedee,  who  was  then  the  rank- 
ing officer  of  the  regiment,  gave  the  command  to  load  and  lie  down. 
The  boys  hesitated  to  obey,  and  Bedee,  seeing  the  Johnnies  advancing, 
gave  the  order,  "Rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  and  get  out  of  this."  This 
order  was  obeyed  with  alacrity  and  none  too  soon.  The  Johnnies  were 
close  at  our  heels  and  in  advance  of  us  on  the  right  and  the  left. 
While  on  the  retreat,  several  of  our  few  survivors  fell.  One  poor  fel- 
low who  was  running  at  my  right,  I  did  not  know  who,  fell,  with  a 
piercing  cry  of  pain  or  terror.  About  the  same  time  a  ball  struck  the 
stock  of  my  musket  and  knocked  it  from  my  hand  and  numbed  my 
fingers.  I  kept  on  without  waiting  to  pick  up  my  musket,  making  the 
best  time  possible,  as  did  all  the  rest.  From  the  woods  to  the  Chan- 
cellorsville  house,  a  distance  of  perhaps  half  a  mile,  was  an  open  field, 
and  over  this  we  had  to  pass,  and  it  seems  a  wonder  that  any  man 
could  pass  through  the  storm  of  shot  and  shell  that  swept  this  field 
and  live.  The  air  was  full  of  flying  missiles  and  the  ground  was  plowed 
up  in  all  directions. 

At  my  left,  as  I  fell  back,  there  was  posted  a  battery  to  check  the 
advance  of  the  rebels.  The  guns  were  evidently  charged  with  grape 
and  canister.  The  rebels  charged  on  these  guns  with  closed  ranks, 
and  the  fire  swept  the  ground  mowing  great  gaps  in  the  ranks  of  a 
brave  foe.  We  learned  later  that  three  charges  were  made  by  these 
men.  Whether  the  guns  were  taken  to  the  rear  or  captured,  I  know 
not,  but  the  rebels  were  soon  in  possession  of  this  part  of  the  field. 
The  plain  over  which  we  passed  was  thickly  strewn  with  the  dead  and 
wounded,  and  many  a  harrowing  scene  presented  itself.  One  that  I 
recall  still  stands  in  vivid  colors  in  my  memory.  A  poor  fellow,  assisted 
by  two  comrades,  was  making  his  way  to  the  Chancellorsville  house. 


PAGE    SIXTY-NINE 


He  had  the  flesh  so  torn  away  from  his  hips  that  I  could  see  the  joints 
work  in  their  sockets  as  he  traveled. 

While  crossing  this  plain  a  new  danger  confronted  the  brave  sur- 
vivors of  the  12th.  Gen.  Sickles  was  trying  to  form  a  new  line  of  battle 
near  the  Chancellorsville  house,  and  his  gunners  were  about  to  fire  on 
the  advancing  enemy  without  observing  the  squad  of  Union  men  be- 
tween, when  Sickles,  perceived  the  situation,  rode  in  front  of  the  guns 
and  exclaimed,  "Hold  on  there;  those  are  my  men  in  front." 

On  arriving  at  this  new  line  of  battle,  Lieut.  Bedee  was  ordered 
by  Gen.  Sickles  to  have  his  men  fall  into  line  and  help  repel  the  rebel 
advance,  but  when  he  was  informed  that  we  had  no  ammunition  he 
ordered  us  to  the  rear,  and  we  passed  through  his  lines  close  to  the 
Chancellorsville  house  to  the  woods  beyond.  There  we  rested.  I 
lay  down  on  the  ground  and,  thoroughly  exhausted,  at  once  fell  asleep. 
As  I  awoke,  I  was  told  that  two  women  who  had  been  rescued  from 
the  cellar  of  the  Chancellorsville  house  had  just  been  conducted  by. 
As  we  passed  this  house  the  bricks  were  being  scattered  by  shot  and 
shell  and  the  house  soon  took  fire.  The  house,  used  as  a  hospital  at 
the  time,  was  hastily  cleared  and  at  the  last  moment  an  officer  visited 
the  cellar  and  there  found  these  women  who  had  taken  refuge  there 
when  the  battle  commenced.  Their  gallant  rescue  from  the  burning 
building  was  widely  heralded  in  the  papers  a  few  days  later. 

Near  the  Chancellorsville  house  was  a  well  that  supplied  the  house 
with  water.  A  large  number  of  men,  famishing  for  water,  crowded 
about  this  well  regardless  of  the  flying  missiles  of  death,  and  here  some 
were  wounded  and  perhaps  killed.  My  first  impulse  was  to  obtain 
water  here  myself,  but  I  quickly  took  in  the  situation  and  concluded 
to  move  on. 

While  this  sketch  is  simply  a  narrative  of  the  personal  experience 
and  observation  of  a  man  in  the  ranks,  and  in  no  sense  a  history  of  the 
battle,  the  writer  cannot  but  allude  to  the  fact  that  through  all  the 
awful  carnage  of  that  Sabbath  morning,  35,000  Union  troops,  ready 
and  anxious  to  sweep  back  the  victorious  hordes  of  the  Confederacy, 
were  allowed  to  remain  inactive  in  the  woods  within  supporting  dis- 
tance, without  being  ordered  to  fire  a  shot. 

But  to  go  on  with  my  narrative.  After  we  had  rested  in  the  woods 
a  short  time,  we  started  for  the  Rappahannock,  where  we  had  crossed 
that  stream  on  our  advance,  led  by  Col.  Berdan  of  the  Sharp  Shooters. 
In  a  short  time  I  overtook  John  Moores,  a  comrade  of  my  company. 
He  had  been  badly  wounded  in  one  foot,  and  was  making  his  way  to 
the  rear  as  best  he  could,  assisted  by  one  of  our  boys.  I  gave  him 
assistance,  and  after  proceeding  perhaps  a  mile  and  twice  trying  in  vain 
to  induce  a  surgeon  to  dress  his  wounds,  we  were  overtaken  by  a  moun- 


PAGE    SEVENTY 


ted  man,  and  I  induced  him  to  dismount  and  give  Moores  a  ride  to  the 
hospital  near  the  river. 

The  headquarters  of  this  hospital  was  a  large,  two-story  house  occu- 
pied a  short  time  before  by  a  Virginia  planter.  Every  room  in  the 
house  was  filled  with  the  wounded,  and  many,  perhaps  a  thousand, 
were  lying  on  the  grass  outside,  and  a  few  physicians  were  at  work 
giving  temporary  assistance  and  forwarding  the  men  to  the  hospitals 
on  the  east  side  of  the  river. 

While  in  the  woods  in  the  hottest  of  the  fight  the  center  band  of 
my  musket  had  been  carried  away  by  a  piece  of  shell  or  bullet.  I 
picked  up  another  musket  and  had  used  it  but  a  little  while  when  I 
noticed  by  a  private  mark  upon  it  that  it  belonged  to  Louis  Rowe,  my 
tent  mate.  I  glanced  over  the  dead  and  wounded  near  me,  but  did  not 
find  its  owner,  and  was  satisfied  therefore  that  he  had  been  wounded 
and  had  gone  to  the  rear,  and  therefore,  as  soon  as  I  arrived  at  this 
house,  I  commenced  a  search  for  him.  After  going  through  every 
room  in  the  house  and  spending  a  long  time  hunting  among  those  on 
the  ground  outside,  I  found  him.  While  in  the  act  of  firing,  a  minnie 
ball  had  ploughed  a  furrow  along  the  back  of  his  left  hand  and  then 
entered  his  right  breast,  making  a  wound  from  which  he  died  nineteen 
years  later.  He  dropped  his  gun  and  slipped  his  knapsack  from  his 
back,  and  then  walked  the  three  miles  to  the  river.  I  made  the  poor 
fellow  a  cup  of  tea,  and,  as  he  was  chilly  and  had  lost  his  overcoat  with 
his  knapsack,  I  covered  him  with  my  own.  I  obtained  a  stretcher  and 
saw  him  started  across  the  river,  and  then  I  rejoined  the  remnant  of 
the  12th  Regt.,  which  had  rendezvoused  near  by.  The  giving  of  my 
overcoat  to  my  tentmate  was  a  great  privation  to  me  as  I  had  no  blan- 
ket, but  it  was  the  means  of  saving  it,  and  I  still  have  it,  a  valued  relic 
of  the  war,  stained  with  the  blood  of  my  comrade  as  it  is.  If  I  had 
selfishly  kept  it  I  should  have  lost  it  the  next  day  as  will  appear  later. 
This  overcoat  was  returned  to  me  when  Louis  Rowe  returned  to  the 
regiment  when  it  was  at  Point  Lookout,  the  next  fall. 

Up  to  the  time  of  rejoining  my  comrades  here  I  had  been  so  en- 
grossed with  the  scenes  of  the  day  that  no  thought  of  home  or  friends 
had  entered  my  mind,  but  as  I  then  sat  down  to  rest  my  mind  flashed 
to  far-away  home,  and  as  I  thought  of  the  sad  news  that  must  be  borne 
them,  tears  came  freely,  and  I  realized  more  than  ever  before  that  the 
immediate  actors  of  the  war  were  not  the  only  sufferers  in  this  great 
conflict. 

I  had  a  piece  of  shelter  tent,  and  joining  that  with  a  piece  carried 
by  a  comrade  we  erected  a  shelter,  but  having  no  overcoat  or  blanket 
I  shivered  with  the  cold  in  my  sleep.  About  2  o'clock  in  the  morning 
heavy  firing  on  the  picket  line  at  the  south  of  our  position  caused  all  to 


PAGE    SEVENTY-ONE 


fall  into  line  and  stand  ready  for  action.  No  movement  was  made,  but 
there  was  no  further  sleep  that  night. 

Roll-call  came  early,  at  which  97  enlisted  men  and  4  officers  re- 
sponded to  their  names.  These  were  organized  into  four  companies 
with  a  commissioned  officer  to  each  and  Col.  Bowman,  with  the  frag- 
ments of  his  brigade,  started  for  the  front.  Arriving  there  we  found 
immense  breastworks  constructed  of  logs  and  earth  had  been  erected 
and  behind  these  we  felt  confident  that  the  Union  forces  would  be  able 
to  hold  their  ground,  but  it  was  evident  that  the  army  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  make  an  advance.  Behind  these  works  the  men  were  allowed 
to  break  ranks  and  pass  the  time  as  they  saw  fit,  and  many,  to  while 
away  the  time,  engaged  in  gambling,  using  gun  carriages  for  tables. 
During  the  day  the  enemy's  sharp  shooters,  perched  in  trees,  were  en- 
gaged in  picking  off  our  officers,  and  Gen.  Whipple,  our  division  com- 
mander, soon  after  cur  arrival  at  the  front,  fell  at  the  hands  of  one  of 
these  men.  The  day  and  the  following  night  passed  without  any  gen- 
eral engagement  or  movement  by  our  army. 

On  Tuesday,  a  little  before  noon,  nearly  all  the  enlisted  men  of  our 
regiment  were  detailed  for  fatigue  duty,  under  the  command  of  Lieut. 
Fernald  and  Capt.  Smith.  By  a  blunder  on  the  part  of  someone,  we 
were  ordered  to  leave  our  arms,  knapsacks  and  haversacks.  We 
marched  a  mile  or  more  through  the  woods  to  the  rear  and  right,  and 
were  set  to  work  throwing  up  intrenchments  to  prevent  a  flanking 
movement  by  the  enemy.  An  officer  in  charge  swore  roundly  when  he 
saw  what  condition  we  were  in,  but  added  that  he  was  not  responsible, 
and  we  must  stand  it,  rations  or  no  rations,  as  the  work  must  be  com- 
pleted to  the  river  by  morning. 

Knee  Deep  in  Mud 

Towards  night  it  rained  as  it  rains  only  in  Virginia,  and  soon  the 
trenches  were  half  full  of  water,  but  still  the  boys  toiled  on.  About  8 
o'clock  that  evening  an  order  came  for  us  to  return  to  where  we  had 
left  our  arms  and  knapsacks.  We  tramped  back  through  the  dark 
woods,  and  finally  reached  the  road  between  the  pontoons  and  the  front. 
Here  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  army  was  on  the  retreat,  for  the  artil- 
lery was  going  to  the  river  with  all  possible  speed.  Instantly  the 
officers  of  our  detail  lost  control  of  their  men,  and  there  rose  a  wrangle 
between  the  officers  and  the  men.  Some  contended  that  there  was  no 
evidence  that  the  infantry  had  moved,  and  that  we  should  return  to 
where  our  arms  and  knapsacks  were;  others  were  in  favor  of  striking 
at  once  for  the  river.  The  officers  were  unequal  to  the  occasion,  and 
their  command  rapidly  disappeared,  every  man  striking  out  for  him- 
self.    Comrade  Jewett  and   I,  with  a  few  others,  decided  to  stick  to- 


PAGE    SEVENTY-TWO 


gether  and  to  return  to  the  front  for  our  effects.  When  we  reached 
there  the  greatest  confusion  prevailed.  The  infantry  had  moved,  but 
we  had  seen  none.  Where  our  brigade  had  gone  no  one  knew.  Large 
parties  were  engaged  in  destroying  everything  that  could  be  of  value 
to  the  enemy.  Knapsacks  were  rifled  and  then  burned,  and  muskets 
were  heated  and  bent  by  a  blow  against  a  tree.  I  picked  up  a  knapsack 
that  had  not  yet  reached  the  flames  and  found  a  haversack  containing 
some  food,  which  we  devoured,  but  none  of  our  arms  or  equipments 
were  found. 

There  was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  strike  out  for  the  pontoons, 
over  which  the  infantry  must  go,  and  so  we  set  out.  But  such  a  road! 
The  artillery  had  churned  the  earth  through  the  woods,  in  the  roads 
and  on  both  sides  into  a  sea  of  mud  knee  deep  through  which  it  seemed 
impossible  to  make  our  way.  At  one  point  I  slipped  and  fell  and  I 
have  often,  since  the  war,  questioned  whether  I  could  have  rallied  from 
that  mudhole  had  Comrade  Jewett  not  come  to  my  aid.  Our  ex- 
perience that  night  has  been  recalled  at  nearly  every  meeting  of  our 
comrades  since  the  war.  About  midnight  we  came  to  a  clearing  near 
the  river  and  struck  the  line  of  march  of  the  infantry.  Here  some 
soldiers  had  a  fire  of  fence  rails,  and  here  we  passed  about  four  hours, 
trying  to  dry  our  clothes,  nodding  over  the  fire  and  watching  for  our 
place  in  the  moving  column.  The  3d  Corps  came  along  about  4  o'clock, 
and  finding  our  brigade  we  fell  in  and  crossed  the  river.  A  march  of 
ten  miles  by  short  stages  brought  us  towards  night  to  our  old  camp 
more  dead  than  alive.  On  this  march  some  of  the  mounted  officers 
who  were  not  over  conspicuous  in  action,  were  impatient,  and  occasion- 
ally swore  because  the  men  did  not  keep  well  closed  up. 

We  built  a  fire  in  the  old  fireplace  and  made  some  coffee,  which 
greatly  revived  us,  but,  oh!  our  hearts  were  sad  and  heavy,  for  more 
than  half  our  number  had  fallen  in  battle. 

Our  regiment  went  into  the  fight  at  Chancellorsville  Sunday  morn- 
ing, May  3,  with  about  25  commissioned  officers  and  549  enlisted  men. 
Three  officers  and  sixty-nine  enlisted  men  had  been  killed,  and  three  of 
the  field  and  staff  officers  and  250  company  officers  and  enlisted  men 
had  been  wounded;  a  total  loss  of  325. 

Co.  D  went  into  the  fight  with  a  total  of  fifty-eight  and  of  these 
six  were  killed,  twenty-five  wounded  and  five  were  missing,  so  that  we 
had  in  arriving  at  camp  only  twenty-two  left. 

Of  those  who  went  from  Bristol  in  Companies  C  and  D,  Henry  R. 
Kidder,  Charles  W.  Cheney,  Sergt.  Gustavus  Emmons,  and  Dan  P.  Nel- 
son were  killed;  Charles  G.  Smith  died  of  wounds  three  days  after  the 
fight;  and  Louis  Rowe,  Benjamin  Saunders,  George  W.  Twombly, 
Henry  Drake,  L.  B.  Laney,  Corp.  Albert  Nelson,  Major  J.  Nelson, 
Thomas  E.  Osgood,  and  Oliver  P.  Hall  were  among  the  wounded. 


PAGE    SEVENTY-THREE 


It  was  not  strange  that  at  such  a  time  wild  rumors  were  in  constant 
circulation.  We  were  informed  that  Chaplain  Ambrose  was  killed  and 
that  Colonel  Potter,  who  was  wounded,  perished  in  the  Chancellors- 
ville  house.  The  first  Sunday  the  chaplain  of  Berdan's  Sharp  Shooters 
preached  to  us  and  eulogized  our  late  chaplain.  A  few  days  later,  how- 
ever, both  the  chaplain  and  Colonel  Potter  returned.  The  colonel  was 
wounded  and  unable  to  travel  and  was  therefore  captured,  while  the 
chaplain,  true  to  his  nature,  continued  to  minister  to  the  wounded  till  he, 
too,  was  captured.  Both  had  now  been  paroled.  The  colonel  continued 
on  his  way  to  Washington  and  did  not  return  to  duty  with  the  regi- 
ment, but  was  later  made  brigadier  general.  The  chaplain  resumed 
his  work  of  love  among  the  men  and  so  continued  till  struck  down  by 
a  rebel  bullet  in  front  of  Petersburg  while  exposing  himself  for  the  re- 
lief of  the  men  in  the  trenches,  and  died  of  his  wounds.  Such  devotion 
as  his  was  rare  even  among  the  men  of  his  cloth  in  the  army. 

There  were  many  acts  of  heroism  in  this  fight  that  will  never  be 
recorded,  and  many  miraculous  escapes  unknown  even  to  the  persons 
concerned.  Roswell  D.  Swett  of  Bristol  had  five  bullets  through  his 
clothes  and  yet  was  unharmed. 

Amusing  scenes  are  enacted  even  on  the  field  of  battle.  Some  I 
witnessed.  Near  me  was  a  man  from  another  company  who  skulked 
behind  a  tree.  The  colonel  grabbed  him  by  the  collar  and  struck  him 
with  his  sword.  The  man  jumped  one  side  to  avoid  the  blow,  and  they 
went  round  in  a  circle  two  or  three  times,  the  colonel  hitting  him  a 
blow  at  every  jump. 

A  sergeant  in  my  own  company  also  skulked  behind  a  tree.  He 
was  seen  there  by  William  Martin,  the  same  man  who  was  spoken  of 
above  as  being  sentenced  for  desertion,  and  he  went  to  a  lieutenant  and 
said  in  an  authoritative  manner,  "Lieut.  Morrill,  you  order  that  man 
from  behind  that  tree."  The  order  was  promptly  obeyed.  A  minute 
later  Martin  was  struck  in  the  arm  by  a  Minie-ball,  and,  dropping  his 
gun,  he  bounded  like  a  deer  to  the  rear.  The  wound  was  not  consid- 
ered a  very  serious  one,  but  it  caused  his  death  a  week  or  ten  days  later. 
While  in  the  hospital,  he  said  to  a  visiting  comrade,  "Now  I  have  some- 
thing that  will  take  me  out  of  the  service,"  referring  to  his  wound.  It 
did,  but  not  in  the  way  in  which  he  had  planned. 

I  have  before  alluded  to  the  fact  that  my  position  as  the  left  general 
guide  of  the  regiment  was  with  the  left  company  and  that  I  was  with 
this  company  during  the  first  day  at  Chancellorsville.  In  forming  a 
line  on  parade  and  theoretically  in  battle,  the  right  and  left  general 
guides,  with  muskets  reversed,  take  positions  at  the  extreme  right  and 
left  where  the  line  is  to  be  formed.  The  colors  take  position  in  the 
center  on  the  line  and  then  the  several  companies  align  themselves  on 


PAGE    SEVENTY-FOUR 


these.  I  asked  the  colonel  where  my  position  in  battle  was,  and  he  in- 
formed me  it  was  with  the  left  company,  and  I  was  therefore  with  that 
company  when  it  came  so  near  being  captured  on  Saturday  night. 
However,  when  the  battle  of  Sunday  morning  commenced  and  the  men 
began  to  fall,  I  reasoned  that  my  services  as  guide  were  not  needed  and 
I  wanted  to  be  with  my  own  company,  instead  of  with  strangers,  in 
case  I  should  fall,  and  I  therefore  took  my  place  with  my  company 
comrades. 

The  Nelson  Brothers 

The  experience  of  the  Nelson  brothers  of  Bristol  is  worthy  of  a 
record  here.  Corp.  Albert  Nelson  was  first  wounded,  a  piece  of  shell 
striking  him  in  the  head.  Dan  went  to  his  assistance  and,  while  help- 
ing him  from  the  field,  Major  was  found,  also  wounded,  but  not  so 
badly  but  that  he  lent  a  helping  hand  in  assisting  Albert.  A  few  min- 
utes later  Dan  received  his  death  wound.  A  ball  struck  him  in  the 
back,  penetrated  his  bowels  and  protruded  in  front.  The  enemy  was 
close  upon  them  and  Dan  begged  his  brothers  to  leave  him  to  his  fate 
rather  than  that  all  be  captured,  and  so  they  left  him  to  die  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy. 

Two  or  three  days  of  complete  rest  were  given  the  men  after  our 
return  to  camp,  and  then  probably  in  part  to  divert  the  thoughts  of  the 
men  from  their  losses,  and  possibly  in  part  for  sanitary  reasons,  orders 
were  issued  to  level  all  the  old  quarters  and  build  new.  So  the  ground 
was  cleared,  new  tent  companies  were  formed,  an  effort  was  made  to 
forget  the  past  and  look  hopefully  into  the  future,  and  before  many  days 
had  elapsed  we  had  adapted  ourselves  somewhat  to  our  changed  con- 
ditions. 

On  the  12th  inst.  we  were  in  line  for  the  first  time  after  the  fight. 
The  division  was  paraded  near  division  headquarters  and  the  death  of 
General  Jackson  of  the  Confederate  army  was  announced.  Though  an 
enemy,  the  division  stood  with  uncovered  heads  as  the  order  was  read. 

[A  marginal  note  here  refers  to  Wednesday,  May  13,  1863,  in  the 
writer's  diary,  where  appears  the  following:] 

"I  have  just  returned  from  Aqua  Creek  where  I  have  been  today 
and  had  a  "right  good  time,"  to  use  an  expression  common  to  these 
parts.  Joe  and  I  got  our  passes  and  went  down  on  the  8  o'clock  train, 
and  having  arrived  there,  were  not  long  in  finding  Edgerly,  and  we 
had  a  most  pleasant  visit,  we  had  lemonade  to  drink  and  apples  to  eat, 
and  a  good  dinner  of  soda  crackers,  ham,  butter  and  coffee  with  con- 
densed milk.  Soon  after  dinner  we  were  out  near  the  steamboat  land- 
ing and  ran  across  French,  another  old  schoolmate,  who  belongs  to  the 
band  of  the  1st  Rhode  Island  cavalry.     It  seemed  like  old  times.     There 


PAGE    SEVENTY-FIVE 


were  four  of  us  who,  a  little  more  than  a  year  ago,  were  at  schoo4  to- 
gether, met  in  the  army  in  Virginia.  We  little  dreamed  it  then.  When 
we  left  this  afternoon,  Edgerly  gave  us  some  condensed  milk,  a  can  of 
condensed  apple  juice,  lemonade  powders,  etc.,  etc.,  which  were  very 
acceptable. 

"Thursday,  May  14.  I  went  down  to  Aqua  Creek  again  today,  as 
Dr.  Fowler  wanted  me  to  get  some  things  for  the  sick,  at  the  sanitary 
commission.  I  was  very  glad  of  the  chance  and  had  another  pleasant 
visit." 

Gradually  some  of  our  boys  who  were  missing  or  wounded  re- 
turned to  camp.  One  of  the  first  to  return  was  Warren  Tucker  of 
Alexandria,  who  joined  us  on  the  15th.  He  was  wounded,  a  ball  pass- 
ing through  his  shoulder  under  the  shoulder  blade.  The  wound  had 
not  received  much  attention  and  the  maggots  were  crawling  out  of  it. 
Joseph  Young,  reported  dead,  was  alive,  with  a  terrible  wound  through 
his  thighs.  Levi  B.  Laney  and  Benj.  Saunders  are  both  now  living, 
though  both  were  badly  wounded. 

Among  those  who  were  killed  was  a  dear  classmate  at  Tilton, 
Henry  Whitten  of  Co.  G.  It  was  only  a  few  days  before  the  fight  that 
we  were  talking  of  old  times  and  our  chances  of  returning  to  school. 
He  was  a  young  man  of  high  purpose  and  ambition,  a  noble  fellow. 
He  felt  confident  that  he  should  return  to  school,  but  he  was  cut  down 
in  the  promise  of  his  early  manhood. 

As  was  to  be  expected  the  news  of  our  losses  carried  great  sorrow 
to  New  Hampshire.  Letters  from  home  stated  there  was  great  excite- 
ment as  well  as  sorrow  at  Bristol.  One  of  my  letters  was  opened  at 
the  post  office  and  read  to  the  crowd  in  waiting  before  it  was  allowed 
to  go  to  the  parties  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  The  first  news  that 
reached  Bristol  was  simply  rumors  as  gathered  by  one  and  another, 
and  consequently  very  unreliable.  Several  were  reported  dead  who 
later  were  found  alive,  and  some  time  elapsed  before  the  exact  truth 
was  known.  Stephen  Nelson  made  a  trip  to  Washington  to  learn  the 
fate  of  his  boys,  two  of  whom  he  found  were  wounded,  but  of  Dan 
nothing  more  was  ever  learned  later  than  reported  above. 

An  effort  was  made  to  secure  the  remains  of  Capt.  Keyes  and 
some  others  who  fell  in  action  on  the  3d,  and  1st  Sergeant  Hall  of  our 
company  was  sent  over  the  river  with  a  flag  of  truce  for  this  purpose. 
But  he  returned  without  effecting  his  purpose.  It  could  hardly  be  said 
that  the  dead  on  the  field  had  been  buried.  Loose  earth  only  had  been 
thrown  over  the  remains  and  they  were  not  in  a  condition  to  be  re- 
moved. Sergt.  Hall  represented  the  stench  on  the  battlefield  to  be 
terrible. 

Wild  rumors  were  in  constant  circulation.  The  most  persistent 
one  was  to  the  effect  that  we  were  to  be  sent  home  on  a  furlough  to  en- 


PAGE    SEVENTY-SIX 


list  men  to  refill  our  depleted  ranks;  then  we  were  to  be  sent  to  some 
fort.  But  the  most  disquieting  rumor  of  all  was  to  the  effect  that  our 
regimental  organization  was  to  be  blotted  out  entirely  on  account  of 
our  reduced  numbers  and  the  men  distributed  into  other  organizations 
where  needed.  One  rumor  even  assigned  us  to  an  organization  out- 
side the  state,  the  84  Penn.  Vols.  Some  foundations  for  these  rumors 
existed  in  the  fact  that  one  day  twenty-three  men  were  taken  for  duty, 
temporarily,  in  a  New  York  battery,  and  a  little  later  twenty  men  were 
taken  for  provost  duty  at  Gen.  Sickles'  headquarters. 

May  30  our  regiment  again  went  out  on  picket.  Our  station  was 
near  the  place  we  had  previously  been  posted.  A  few  hours'  work 
made  comfortable  quarters  and  then  some  of  the  boys  went  to  work  on 
a  brook  near  by.  Some  built  a  dam,  others  a  miniature  sawmill  and 
soon  there  were  in  operation  here  six  water  wheels,  which  carried  three 
upright  saws,  a  cross-cut  and  a  circular  saw,  a  trip  hammer,  and  a 
churn.  A  man  in  the  mill  had  a  saw  in  one  hand  and  a  jug  in  the  other, 
and  a  woman  stood  at  the  churn.  When  the  thing  was  in  full  opera- 
tion, Col.  Berdan  came  along  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  exhibition 
and  flattered  the  boys  by  remarking  that  none  but  New  Hampshire 
men  could  put  such  an  establishment  in  operation  and  that  he  hoped 
they  would  some  day  be  running  larger  establishments  of  this  kind  in 
this  same  country. 

The  men  at  this  time  were  in  pretty  good  spirits  owing  largely  to 
cheering  news  from  near  Vicksburg.  It  was  said  that  Gen.  Grant  had 
been  successful  in  five  successive  battles,  and  had  captured  10,000  rebels 
and  ninety  guns,  and  that  his  army  was  in  possession  of  all  the  outer 
works  of  the  city. 

While  here  one  morning  there  were  discovered  indications  that  the 
enemy  had  planted  a  battery  on  the  south  side  of  the  river  and  erected 
earthworks.  The  same  morning  a  lieutenant  came  from  camp  and 
brought  the  intelligence  that  Private  Patrick  Hickey  had  died  in 
hospital  of  wounds  received  at  Chancellorsville,  and  that  my  tentmate, 
William  Straw,  of  Hill,  was  dangerously  sick  of  fever. 

Returning  to  camp  there  were  rumors  in  the  air  of  moves  on  the 
part  of  the  rebel  army  and  our  own.  A  captive  balloon  near  us  was 
constantly  making  observations  of  the  movements  of  the  rebel  army, 
but  information  gathered  thereby  went  to  headquarters  instead  of  to 
the  men  in  the  ranks.  The  conclusions  arrived  at  from  what  was  seen 
and  heard  at  these  times  and  many  others  were  sometimes  correct 
and  sometimes  not.  Later  the  balloon  moved  up  the  river,  and  it  was 
concluded  that  the  object  it  was  observing  was  moving  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  this  conclusion  was  correct,  for  soon  it  was  known  that  the 
rebel  army  was  moving  north,  and  soon  the  invasion  of  the  north  was 
effected  and  we  were  making  movements  that  culminated  in  the  battle 


PAGE    SEVENTY-SEVEN 


of   Gettysburg,  where  the  backbone   of   the    Confederacy   was   broken. 

My  tentmate,  Wm.  Straw,  was  at  this  time  in  the  regimental 
hospital.  On  June  5,  I  visited  him  for  the  last  time,  made  him  as  com- 
fortable as  I  could,  and  then  penned  a  letter  to  his  wife  for  him.  It 
seemed  then  that  his  work  was  about  done.  The  next  day  he  was  sent 
to  the  Division  hospital  and  I  did  not  see  him  again.  He  died  at  Alex- 
andria, June  20,  1863. 

Another  tentmate,  Rev.  Asa  Witham,  was  sent  to  the  Division 
hospital  at  the  same  time,  being  unable  to  travel  on  account  of  rheuma- 
tism. Thus  the  last  of  those  who  shared  my  tent  before  the  battle  of 
Chancellorsville  had  left  me.  They  were  all  kindred  spirits,  and  as 
there  was  no  prospect  of  either  of  them  ever  returning  for  duty  I  was 
greatly  depressed  at  their  departure. 

About  this  time,  the  wife  of  Chas.  G.  Smith  arrived  from  Bristol, 
expecting  to  find  her  husband  alive  and  hoping  to  take  him  home,  but 
he  had  died  at  Aqua  Creek  of  his  wounds,  June  6.  About  the  same 
time  the  sister  of  Wm.  Martin  came  for  the  remains  of  her  brother. 


PAGE    SEVENTY-EIGHT 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MARCHING  NORTH 

The  first  orders  to  move  on  the  Gettysburg  campaign  came  June 
6,  in  the  evening,  and  we  were  directed  to  be  ready  to  move  at  day- 
break the  next  morning.  During  the  day  there  had  been  heavy  firing 
in  the  direction  of  Fredericksburg,  so  we  naturally  expected  to  move  in 
that  direction  and  concluded  there  might  be  warm  work  for  us  on  the 
morrow,  but  no  orders  to  move  came. 

On  Thursday,  June  11,  we  learned  that  as  our  old  division  (3d) 
had  been  so  decimated  in  battle  and  its  commander  killed,  the  remaining 
fragments  would  be  distributed  to  the  other  two  divisions.  This  proved 
to  be  true  and  we  received  orders  to  move,  as  we  supposed  to  be  nearer 
the  headquarters  of  our  new  division,  the  second.  Accordingly  we 
packed  up  everything  we  could  muster  strength  to  carry,  that  we  might 
enjoy  them  in  our  new  camp,  but  after  marching  about  two  miles 
towards  our  supposed  new  quarters  we  observed  that  the  entire  army 
was  on  the  move,  and  we  made  haste  to  dispose  of  everything  that  was 
not  absolutely  necessary  for  the  march.  We  joined  our  new  division 
near  division  headquarters  and  then  countermarched  towards  our  old 
encampment.  Some  could  not  help  asking  the  question,  why  we  did 
not  remain  where  we  were  and  join  our  new  command  as  it  passed 
instead  of  making  an  unnecessary  march,  and  some  attempted  to  ans- 
wer, but  the  reason  was  not  complimentary  to  the  division  commander, 
and  it  might  not  have  been  correct.  The  day  was  hot,  but  we  pressed 
on,  hour  after  hour,  and  finally  halted  near  Hartwood  church  on  the 
Warrington  road,  17  miles  from  our  starting  point. 

The  next  morning  reveille  sounded  at  4  o'clock  and  we  were  soon 
again  on  the  move.  As  the  day  advanced  the  heat  became  intense, 
and  the  road  was  strewn  with  blankets,  overcoats,  shelter  tents,  and 
clothing  of  every  description.  I  determined  to  hold  on  to  mine,  but 
towards  noon  my  blanket  was  dropped  to  lighten  my  load.  The  roads 
were  dry  and  the  passing  army  beat  the  ground  into  fine  dust  several 
inches  deep,  while  every  twig  and  leaf  was  laden  with  dust,  and  the  air 
was  so  thick  with  the  flying  particles  that  one  could  see  but  a  little 
way  ahead.  We  made  a  brief  halt  at  noon  and  then  the  march  was  re- 
sumed towards  Kelley's  ford,  which  we  passed  about  5  p.  m.  At  dark 
we  crossed  the  Alexandria  and  Orange  railroad,  where  it  crossed  the 

PAGE    SEVENTY-NINE 


north  branch  of  the  Rappahannock,  and  a  mile  beyond  stacked  arms,  as 
we  supposed,  for  the  night.  We  had  covered  about  twenty-six  miles, 
and  if  ever  the  poor  boys  were  thankful  for  a  rest  it  was  then.  I 
started  with  others  for  water,  but  before  we  found  any  we  heard  the 
command  given  to  fall  in.  Hurrying  back  we  again  took  our  place  in 
the  ranks,  and  then  we  traveled  almost  at  a  double  quick  two  miles 
further,  but  which  seemed  to  be  five.  The  men  were  continually  falling 
out,  and  when  we  finally  came  to  a  place  to  bivouac,  of  twenty-six  men 
in  my  company  only  six  were  in  line,  and  I  was  one  of  those.  Per- 
haps I  may  as  well  confess  that  I  did  not  dare  to  stop  to  rest  for  fear 
I  should  not  be  able  to  resume  the  march  that  night.  We  had  halted  at 
Beverly  Ford,  where  a  cavalry  fight  had  taken  place  a  few  days  before. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  June  14,  1863,  and  it  proved  to  be 
a  veritable  day  of  rest,  an  uncommon  thing  in  the  army.  This  was 
necessary,  in  part,  at  least,  to  give  the  stragglers  an  opportunity  to 
reach  camp  and  they  were  coming  in  all  day.  There  was  much  spec- 
ulation at  this  point  among  the  men  as  to  whether  we  were  on  a  retreat 
or  on  a  race  after  the  Johnnies,  but  we  soon  learned  that  Gen.  Lee 
was  even  then  moving  by  rapid  marches  to  the  north,  and  our  forced 
marches  were  absolutely  necessary  to  follow  him. 

At  6  o'clock  that  evening  the  army  again  resumed  the  march  and 
continued  on  the  road  all  night,  reaching  Catlett's  Station  at  7  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  There  we  rested  till  2  p.m.,  when  we  resumed  the  march, 
and  continued  with  brief  halts  till  12  at  night.  Then  we  were  allowed 
to  bivouac.  Between  the  two  bivouacs  we  had  covered  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five  miles.  This  was  even  a  harder  march  than  the  Saturday 
before  and  was  indeed  the  hardest  march  of  my  army  experience.  The 
same  conditions  prevailed  as  on  the  Saturday  before.  The  heat  was 
intense,  the  dust  blinding,  many  fell  out  and  some  died  of  exhaustion 
on  the  road. 

We  had  halted  this  time  at  Manassas  Junction,  and  on  every  hand 
were  seen  the  marks  of  the  hand  of  war — buildings  and  bridges  and 
trains  of  cars  destroyed,  and  other  marks  of  the  contests  between  two 
hostile  armies.  In  one  place  was  a  pile  of  thousands  of  muskets  and 
carbines,  all  destroyed  by  burning. 

Tuesday,  the  16th,  we  marched  only  about  2  miles  and  then  again 
went  into  camp,  where  there  were  better  facilities  to  obtain  water,  and 
rested  for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

Here  we  received  news  that  Gen.  Lee  had  already  entered  Penn- 
sylvania. This  news  was  received  with  general  satisfaction  by  the 
army,  because  the  opinion  was  that  the  farther  he  entered  that  state 
the  less  likely  he  would  be  to  return. 

The  next  morning  (Wednesday,  June  17th)  we  marched  to  within 
two  miles  of  Centerville.     On  the  way  we  crossed  Bull  Run  and  a  por- 


PAGE    EIGHTY 


tion  of  the  battlefield  that  took  the  name  of  this  stream.  A  halt  on  the 
way  gave  the  men  an  opportunity  to  bathe  in  its  waters,  which  was 
gladly  embraced.  Here  we  had  an  opportunity  to  mail  letters,  but,  as 
only  half  an  hour  was  given  for  writing,  our  communications  were  short. 

On  Friday,  the  19th,  we  marched  to  Gum  Springs,  which  place  we 
reached  about  dusk.  A  cold  rain  prevailed,  and  during  the  night  we 
felt  the  need  of  the  blankets  we  threw  away  just  one  week  before.  The 
shelter  tents,  which  we  still  had,  sheltered  us  from  the  rain,  and  the 
rubber  blankets  were  needed  to  protect  us  from  the  wet  ground,  so  we 
had  no  covering  besides  the  clothes  we  had  on. 

We  remained  at  Gum  Springs  till  the  Thursday  following  (the 
25th).  Expected  attacks  from  the  rebel  cavalry  and  other  alarms 
came  daily,  and  occasionally  our  field  pieces  would  play  into  this  or 
that  piece  of  woods  to  drive  out  an  imaginary  or  real  foe.  While  here 
gambling  with  cards  was  indulged  in  more  freely  than  I  had  observed 
in  any  other  place.  The  moral  tone  of  the  Second  division  was  not  as 
high  as  the  old  Third  division,  and  gambling  was  the  order  of  the  day 
most  of  the  time.  This  was  one  of  the  diversions  of  the  boys,  and  was 
practiced  rather  from  a  lack  of  a  better  way  in  which  to  pass  the  time 
than  from  depraved  nature,  or  a  desire  to  make  money  easily.  The 
stakes  were  usually  small. 

We  were  ready  for  a  start  at  9  a.  m.  on  Thursday,  and  the  corps 
commenced  to  move  at  that  time  and  for  two  hours  and  more  continued 
to  file  out  to  the  road.  Then  came  the  baggage  train,  which,  when  in 
columns,  extended  five  or  six  miles..  We  got  under  full  march  about 
10  a.  m.,  going  northerly.  We  reached  Edwards  Ferry  at  5  p.  m.,  hav- 
ing covered  fifteen  miles,  and  here  we  hoped  to  spend  the  night,  but 
we  did  not  even  stop  to  make  coffee.  We  crossed  the  Potomac  on  a 
pontoon  bridge,  and  then  took  the  tow  path  of  the  Ohio  and  Chesa- 
peake canal  and  continued  the  march  toward  Harper's  Ferry.  At  this 
point  rain  commenced,  and  in  some  respects  this  march  was  even  harder 
than  the  famous  march  of  Saturday,  June  13.  For  twelve  miles  we 
continued  on  the  tow  path,  the  night  was  dark,  the  rain  fell  in  torrents, 
the  tow  path  was  narrow,  so  that  each  was  compelled  to  walk  in  the 
steps  of  his  file  leader,  thereby  churning  the  earth  into  deep  mud. 
There  were  many  bad  places  in  the  path  which  checked  the  head  of  the 
column,  causing  very  uneven  marching  to  those  far  in  the  rear,  and 
making  long  waits  followed  by  double  quicks  to  close  up,  even  though 
many  pounds  of  mud  adhered  to  the  feet.  These  long  waits  were  of 
no  relief,  however,  for  there  were  no  opportunities  to  sit  or  lie  down. 
This  was  more  tiresome  than  the  ordinary  march.  There  was  no 
opportunity  to  straggle,  but  the  narrow  path  did  not  prevent  large 
numbers  from  falling  out,  and  nearly  half  the  men  were  scattered  far 
to  the  rear  when  the  colors  halted  about  midnight  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Monoccay. 

PAGE    EIGHTY-ONE 


For  the  first  time  in  my  army  experience,  I  was  with  those  who 
fell  out.  Finding  a  grass  plot  near  the  path,  four  of  us  buttoned  our 
shelter  cloth  together,  pitched  it  as  a  tent,  and  then  lay  down.  I 
chanced  to  be  one  of  the  outside  fellows,  and  a  part  of  the  time  at  least 
my  body  was  crowded  out  under  the  tent  and  I  received  the  full  bene- 
fit of  the  rain  as  it  fell  in  torrents  all  night  long.  Wet  as  I  was  I  got 
some  sound  sleep.  Upon  waking  in  the  morning  we  discovered  an 
abandoned  negro  hut  near  by  which  we  took  possession  of,  built  a 
rousing  fire  by  using  a  portion  of  the  hut  for  fuel,  and  partially  dried 
our  clothes  and  made  coffee.  Then  we  started  to  overtake  the  colors. 
We  were  with  the  majority  that  day,  and  the  crowd  marched  on  with- 
out officers  in  command,  though  there  were  officers  in  the  company  of 
stragglers.  There  were  few  officers  in  the  ranks  that  day.  It  was  a 
go-as-you-please  march,  and  we  did  not  overtake  the  head  of  the  column 
till  5  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  at  Point  of  Rocks.  We  were  informed 
that  only  about  a  dozen  men  of  the  12th  Regt.  were  with  the  colors, 
when  the  final  halt  was  made  the  night  before.  Even  Gen.  Humphrey, 
in  his  report,  said  the  march  was  more  exhausting  to  officers  and  men 
than  the  march  of  the  14th  and  15th.  If,  as  was  reported,  he  chose  to 
march  on  the  tow  path  to  prevent  straggling,  he  made  a  great  mistake. 

We  started  from  Point  of  Rocks  early  the  next  morning  and 
marched  seven  miles  to  Jefferson,  where  some,  expecting,  on  the 
strength  of  a  rumor,  to  remain  over  night,  pitched  tents.  After  an 
hour's  rest  the  order  came  to  fall  in  and  we  again  took  up  the  line  of 
march  and  did  not  make  a  general  halt  till  we  arrived  at  Burkettsville, 
Md.,  10  miles  from  our  noonday  halt.  There  we  turned  into  a  field, 
pitched  tents  a  second  time  and  prepared  to  spend  the  night,  when 
again  came  the  command  to  pack  up  and  fall  in.  This  march  took  us 
to  the  top  of  Cedar  Mountain,  and  we  halted  at  Campton's  gap,  the  spot 
where  the  battle  of  South  Mountain  commenced.  As  an  evidence  of 
the  struggle  here  a  citizen  pointed  to  the  places  where  twenty  or  thirty 
rebels  were  buried  in  one  grave.  After  a  short  stay  here  we  again 
moved  on  but  only  for  a  short  distance  to  where  we  passed  the  night, 
thankful  for  an  opportunity  to  sleep. 

The  morrow,  Sunday,  was  pleasant  and  cool,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
presence  of  large  bodies  of  troops,  the  church  bell  in  the  small  hamlet 
rang  to  call  worshipers  together.  This  was  the  first  time  such  a  joyous 
sound  had  greeted  our  ears  for  many  months,  and  some  of  us  pro- 
posed to  attend  service,  but  instead  we  fell  in  and  took  up  the  line  of 
march. 

Since  crossing  the  Potomac  into  Maryland  we  could  but  notice  we 
were  among  friends.  The  majority  of  the  people  were  without  doubt 
Unionists  and  those  who  were  not  wisely  kept  in  the  shade.  Where 
before  we  saw  only  desolated  fields  and  many  ruins,  now  we  saw  pros- 


PAGE    EIGHTY-TWO 


perous  farms  and  growing  crops.  We  passed  through  Woodsborough. 
At  Burkettsville  we  were  greeted  with  a  Union  flag  in  the  hands  of  a 
young  lady  on  the  balcony  of  a  residence.  The  effect  was  magical; 
the  boys  cheered,  the  regimental  flag  was  unfurled  and  the  brigade 
band  played.  We  halted  for  the  night  near  Frederick  City,  Md.,  hav- 
ing marched  about  20  miles  that  day. 

At  12  o'clock  the  supply  train  arrived  and  I  got  up  to  draw  rations; 
then  they  had  to  be  divided  up  and  distributed  to  the  men.  At  four 
o'clock  the  reveille  sounded  and  the  column  soon  moved  and  I  had  only 
time  to  finish  my  work  and  then  fall  in,  having  had  but  little  sleep  and 
no  breakfast.  This  was  one  of  the  occasions  when  it  was  no  advan- 
tage to  have  charge  of  drawing  the  company  rations,  for  while  I  was 
at  work  most  of  my  comrades  were  asleep  or  resting. 

It  is  so  much  easier  to  march  at  the  head  of  the  column  than  at  any 
other  point,  especially  the  rear,  that  the  several  divisions  of  a  Corps 
alternate  in  taking  the  advance.  The  same  rule  holds  good  in  the  sev- 
eral brigades  and  with  the  regiments  of  the  brigades.  By  fortunate 
changes,  under  this  rule,  the  day  we  left  Frederick  City,  the  12th  Regi- 
ment led  the  Corps.  I  say  fortunate,  for  it  was  not  only  easier  march- 
ing at  the  head  of  the  column,  but  our  regiment  being  at  the  head  of 
the  column  was  taken  for  provost  duty  at  Taneytown,  Md  ,  where  we 
passed  the  night.  Ordinarily  this  extra  duty  would  have  been  consid- 
ered a  hardship,  but  not  so  here,  as  will  appear  later  on. 

We  marched  twenty-three  miles  that  day,  and,  notwithstanding 
our  favored  position,  all  the  boys  were  exceedingly  tired  as  we  were 
getting  well  worn  out.  I  remember  as  a  halt  was  called  just  outside 
the  village,  I  sank  down  to  rest  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  a  few.  min- 
utes later  I  saw  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  at  a  farm  house,  several 
women  bringing  from  the  house  pans  of  milk,  doughnuts  and  pies, 
which  they  placed  on  the  doorsteps  for  the  soldiers.  I  helped  dispose 
of  those  refreshments  and  instantly  felt  like  a  new  man.  And  then 
these  women  poured  out  such  love  for  the  Union  that  we  retired  not 
only  refreshed,  but  with  a  fresh  inspiration  for  the  cause. 

On  reaching  the  center  of  the  village  our  regiment  filed  into  a  side 
street  and  then  stacked  arms,  guards  were  placed  and  then  the  rest 
were  at  liberty  to  roam  through  the  town.  The  corps  passed  through 
the  town  while  the  12th  Regt.  remained  for  guard  duty  as  before  stated. 
The  whole  town  was  out  to  welcome  us,  and  the  boys  did  not  need  in- 
troductions to  the  girls.  My  eyes  caught  sight  of  two  very  pretty  and 
intelligent  young  ladies  and  we  were  soon  engaged  in  an  animated  con- 
versation— such  a  treat  for  one  who  had  been  deprived  of  all  female 
society  since  we  left  home.  Our  newly  made  acquaintances  proved  to 
be  the  daughters  of  the  Presbyterian  minister  of  the  town.  Some  of 
the  young  ladies  were  particularly  demonstrative.       One  we  remember 


PAGE    EIGHTY-THREE 


even  now.  She  stationed  herself  on  the  sidewalk  near  the  main  body 
of  troops  as  they  passed,  and  with  flag  in  hand  as  each  officer  passed, 
whether  he  was  a  general  or  a  line  officer,  on  foot  or  mounted,  she 
sang  out,  "Hurrah  for  the  lieutenant."  To  her  a  lieutenant  was  as  big 
a  man  as  a  general.  In  fact  she  knew  no  difference.  All  were  friends 
of  the  soldiers  at  sight,  and  every  house  was  open  to  serve  meals  for 
the  boys  who  were  always  hungry  when  there  were  good  things  to  eat. 
That  night  my  duties  and  recreation  kept  me  up  till  late,  and  then  I 
spread  my  rubber  blanket  on  the  flat  slate  stone  sidewalk,  and,  with 
my  knapsack  for  a  pillow,  I  slept  soundly  till  reveille  sounded  in  the 
morning. 

We  were  on  guard  duty  during  our  stay  in  Taneytown,  and  our 
chief  duty  was  to  prevent  soldiers,  who  had  no  passes,  from  entering 
the  town. 

Tuesday  till  noon,  the  12th  Army  Corps  was  passing  through  the 
town,  and  as  soon  as  that  had  passed  we  withdrew  from  the  town  and 
went  into  camp  about  three  miles  out  on  the  Emmitsburg  road. 


PAGE    EIGHTY-FOUR 


CHAPTER  IX 
GETTYSBURG 

Wednesday,  the  first  day  of  July,  occurred  the  first  day's  fight  at 
Gettysburg.  Two  or  three  days  before,  Gen.  Hooker  had  been  relieved 
of  the  command  of  the  army  of  Potomac  and  Gen.  Meade  had  suc- 
ceeded him.  The  Confederate  army  under  Gen.  Lee  was  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. Harrisburg,  Philadelphia,  and  even  Washington  were  threat- 
ened and  the  greatest  excitement  prevailed  throughout  the  North. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  wisdom  of  a  change  in  the  head  of  the 
army  was  questioned,  and  this  step  had  a  depressing  effect  on  the  army. 
Officers  and  men  in  whispers  discussed  the  situation  and  silently  shook 
the  head  as  though  fearful  of  the  coming  of  another  disaster. 

On  that  Wednesday  morning  we  passed  through  Emmitsburg, 
with  the  buildings  of  many  streets  in  ashes,  as  one  of  the  results  of  the 
touch  of  the  hand  of  war,  and  pressed  on  towards  Gettysburg.  I 
remember  as  we  passed  through  the  town  the  rain  was  falling  heavily 
and  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  the  men  presented  a  very  cheer- 
ful aspect.  At  one  door  stood  an  aged  woman,  and  just  as  I  passed 
her  door  I  heard  her  say,  "Oh,  men,  don't  look  so  down-hearted." 
There  was  no  doubt  as  to  that  woman's  loyalty. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  rain  ceased  and  we  hastened  our  steps. 

That  same  morning  Gen.  Reynolds  had  met  a  portion  of  the  Rebel 
army  at  Gettysburg  and  a  sharp  fight  occurred,  resulting  in  the  death 
of  Reynolds  and  the  defeat  of  the  Union  arms.  The  Union  forces 
under  Gen.  Howard  were  pressed  back  and  took  possession  of  the 
range  of  hills  known  as  Cemetery  Ridge,  and  this  defeat  on  Wednes- 
day may  have  been  a  blessing  in  disguise,  for  these  same  hills  to  which 
the  Union  forces  were  driven  were  occupied  by  the  several  Union  corps 
as  they  arrived  later,  and  constituted  the  invulnerable  position  held  by 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  the  succeeding  days  of  the  battle. 

All  that  afternoon  we  pressed  forward,  stimulated  by  the  roar  of 
battle  at  Gettysburg  that  reached  our  ears.  Staff  officers  and  couriers 
were  dashing  to  and  fro  bearing  dispatches  or  giving  orders  prepara- 
tory to  the  coming  conflict.  The  shades  of  evening  came  and  the  roar 
of  cannon  gave  place  to  the  stillness  of  night,  but  on  we  pressed,  and, 
though  weary  with  a  long  march,  there  was  no  need  of  orders  to  hasten 
our  steps,  for  all  were  making  the  best  time  possible,  fully  realizing  the 
importance  of  the  hour. 

PAGE    EIGHTY-FIVE 


Finally  about  midnight  we  reached  the  vicinity  of  Gettysburg. 
We  were  marching  with  rank  well  closed  up,  ready  for  action,  when  we 
halted  and  a  command  was  passed  down  the  line  to  lie  down  on  both 
sides  of  the  road  as  noiselessly  as  possible.  By  a  strange  mistake  or  a 
lack  of  information  as  to  where  the  enemy  was  we  were  marching 
directly  into  his  lines.  When  we  halted,  his  cannon  planted  in  the  road 
ahead  of  us  could  be  dimly  seen.  In  column  as  we  were  his  cannon 
would  have  reaped  a  rich  harvest  of  death  had  he  opened  on  us.  Why 
he  did  not  we  never  knew. 

Instantly  the  order  was  obeyed.  The  rattle  of  tin  dippers  and 
canteens  was  suppressed  and  the  men  dropped  to  the  ground  beside  the 
highway.  The  commander  of  the  brigade,  his  staff  and  servants  passed 
to  the  rear,  the  men  arose  in  their  places  noiselessly,  countermarched, 
and  when  out  of  range,  the  column  struck  across  the  country  from  the 
Emmitsburg  road,  where  we  were,  to  the  Taneytown  road,  making  a 
circuit  of  the  Round  Tops,  and  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning 
reached  a  position  north  of  these  hills,  and  bivouacked  for  the  remain- 
der of  the  night,  after  a  march  of  nearly  twenty-five  miles. 

As  the  officers  and  their  servants  were  passing  to  the  rear,  some 
wag  near  me  said  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  many,  "Offi- 
cers and  niggers  to  rear,  march."  This  "shot"  was  received  with  sup- 
pressed laughter  by  all  who  heard  it. 

Extending  south  of  Gettysburg  on  the  west  is  a  long  ridge  known 
as  Seminary  ridge,  because  on  it  near  the  city  stands  the  Lutheran 
seminary.  A  little  less  than  a  mile  to  the  east  and  nearly  parallel  with 
it,  is  Cemetery  ridge,  extending  from  the  city  two  miles  or  more  to  the 
Round  Tops.  It  was  on.  this  latter  ridge  that  the  Union  army  took 
position  after  the  fight  of  the  first  day,  while  the  Confederate  army 
took  position  on  Seminary  ridge.  It  was  the  ground  between  these 
two  ridges  that  was  fought  over  in  the  battles  of  the  second  and  third 
of  July  and  a  large  portion  of  the  field  could  be  covered  by  the  eye  at 
a  glance. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  the  Confederate  army  was 
posted  the  entire  length  of  Seminary  ridge  from  a  point  opposite 
Round  Top  facing  east  to  the  city.  Near  the  city  this  line  made  a 
sharp  bend  to  the  east,  extending  in  this  direction  nearly  a  mile,  and 
then  made  another  bend  to  the  south-east  of  Cemetery  ridge.  Its 
entire  length  was  nearly  five  miles  and  in  shape  like  that  of  a  fishhook. 

The  different  corps  of  the  Union  army  as  they  arrived  took  posi- 
tion* facing  this  line.  Their  formations  were  like  that  of  the  Confed- 
erates in  two  or  three  lines  of  battle. 

At  the  extreme  right  of  the  Confederates,  opposite  Round  Top,  were 
posted  the  veteran  troops  of  its  army  under  Gen.  Longstreet.  Oppo- 
site these  troops  Gen.  Sickles  took  position  with  the  Third  Corps,  the 

PAGE    EIGHTY-SIX 


12th  Regt.  being  in  the  first  line  of  battle  at  the  extreme  right  of  the 
corps. 

It  was  expected  that  the  rebel  army  would  follow  up  the  advan- 
tages of  the  first  day's  fight  with  an  early  attack  on  our  lines  and  there- 
fore the  Union  army  was  astir  and  making  coffee  with  the  early  dawn, 
but  the  greater  part  of  the  day  passed  and  not  a  gun  was  fired  except 
by  the  pickets  and  an  occasional  shot  from  a  battery. 

Finally  Gen.  Sickles  brought  on  an  engagement  by  opening  fire 
with  his  artillery  on  his  extreme  left.  This  engagement  spread  north 
and  soon  the  whole  line  was  engaged  in  mortal  strife,  the  ferocity  of 
which  has  seldom  been  seen  on  the  battlefields  of  the  world.  The  con- 
testants numbered  nearly  or  quite  180,000  men. 

The  hardest  fighting  of  the  day  was  on  the  left,  held  at  first  by  the 
Third  Corps  alone,  for  here  was  the  weak  spot  in  the  whole  line — the 
angle  since  called  the  bloody  angle.  Gen.  Sickles  had  made  this  angle 
by  swinging  the  left  of  his  line  to  the  rear  in  order  to  protect  his  flank. 
Here  were  massed  during  the  second  day  nearly  a  third  part  of  the 
entire  Confederate  army.  The  other  attacks  along  the  line,  though 
desperate,  were  largely  to  prevent  assistance  being  sent  to  the  left. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  enter  into  a  discussion,  extending  to  the 
present  day  as  it  does,  as  to  whether  the  alignment  of  Gen.  Sickles  or 
his  acts  in  bringing  on  an  engagement  at  this  time  were  wise  or  con- 
trary to  the  science  of  war,  or  whether  the  sulkiness  of  Gen.  Long- 
street  in  declining  to  bring  on  a  general  engagement  in  the  early  part 
of  the  day  as  ordered,  contributed,  to  the  general  result  of  this  battle. 
It  is  a  fact  that  Gen.  Sickles  by  commencing  the  engagement  prevented 
the  withdrawal  of  the  Union  army  by  Gen.  Meade;  as  it  is  claimed  was 
his  intention,  and  that  the  heroism  of  the  men  in  the  ranks  in  both 
armies  made  the  battle  the  stupendous  one  it  was,  resulting  in  a  victory 
to  the  Union  cause.  Even  after  the  exhausting  fight  of  three  days, 
had  it  been  left  to  the  men  in  the  ranks  of  the  Union  army  to  dictate  a 
line  of  action,  the  northern  army  would  have  thrown  itself  between  the 
Potomac  river  and  Lee's  retreating  army  or  crushed  him  while  attempt- 
ing to  cross  the  river  and  thus  perhaps  have  ended  the  rebellion  then 
and  there. 

When  Sickles  opened  fire  with  his  artillery  the  enemy  replied,  do- 
ing much  execution,  extending  to  the  position  held  by  the  12th  and 
here  some  of  our  men  fell.  We  were  then  ordered  to  advance  and  lie 
down  in  an  apple  orchard.  Cannonading  increased  and  the  shot  and 
shell  from  both  sides  passed  over  us,  making  the  very  air  hot  with  the 
flying  missiles.  Fortunately  this  was  mainly  an  artillery  duel  between 
batteries  posted  on  higher  ground,  and  we  suffered  but  little. 

After  lying  in  this  position  nearly  an  hour  the  infantry  at  our  ex- 
treme left  became  engaged.     The  roll  and  roar  of  musketry  as  the  two 


PAGE    EIGHTY-SEVEN 


armies  came  together  were  appalling.  Gradually  it  came  nearer  like  a 
mighty  thunder  storm,  not  rapidly  but  with  tremendous  force  and  deaf- 
ening roar,  one  continuous  crash.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  roar  of  the 
carnage  came,  drowning  even  the  screeching  of  the  shot  and  shell  over 
our  heads. 

While  this  fighting  was  going  on  at  our  left,  our  part  of  the  line 
advanced  to  the  Emmitsburg  road,  driving  the  enemy  before  us.  In- 
deed the  right  of  our  regiment  crossed  this  road,  thus  giving  it  the 
most  advanced  position  held  by  the  corps  that  day.  The  correctness 
of  this  assertion  is  verified  by  official  maps  and  the  history  of  the  battle 
published  since  the  war,  and  by  the  side  of  this  road  now  stands  the 
12th  Regt.  monument  marking  its  most  advanced  position  on  that  day. 

But  this  was  not  a  position  that  could  long  be  held.  The  heavy 
fighting  at  our  left  was  the  result  of  a  desperate  effort  to  crush  our  line 
at  the  bloody  angle.  Then  the  enemy  dealt  desperate  blows  and  par- 
tially succeeded. 

The  line  of  the  3d  Corps  was  rolled  back  upon  itself  and  the  safety 
of  the  entire  army  threatened.  A  battery  was  planted  by  the  enemy 
that  raked  the  position  held  by  the  12th  Regt.  by  the  left  flank,  and 
this,  in  connection  with  the  musketry  and  artillery  fire  in  front  ren- 
dered our  position  such  as  no  troops  could  withstand,  and  then  too  our 
advanced  position  rendered  our  capture  certain  by  the  oncoming  host, 
if  we  remained  where  we  were  and  a  retreat  was  ordered. 

While  retreating,  the  guns  of  the  6th  Corps,  posted  on  high  ground 
in  reserve,  played  over  our  heads  into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  and 
helped  to  check  their  advance,  but,  while  at  the  Emmitsburg  road  and 
while  retreating,  the  men  of  the  12th  suffered  their  greatest  loss.  Lieut. 
French,  while  giving  an  order,  fell  dead.  Sergt.  Howe,  carrying  the 
state  colors,  was  killed,  and  Corp.  Brown,  in  the  act  of  picking  up  the 
colors,  suffered  the  same  fate.  Sergt.  Luther  Parker  of  Hill,  carrying 
the  U.  S.  flag,  fell  with  a  shattered  leg.  Corp.  Knight,  of  the  color 
guard,  was  killed,  and  nearly  all  the  other  members  of  the  color  guard 
were  wounded.  Here  fell  Comrade  Horace  S.  Plaisted  of  New  Hamp- 
ton, and  John  Taylor,  also  of  New  Hampton,  received  wounds  from 
which  he  died  six  weeks  later.  Comrade  Frank  Knowlton  of  Sanborn- 
ton  had  his  right  hip  carried  away  by  a  shell.  As  he  fell  he  uttered 
a  piercing  cry,  stretched  out  his  hand  imploring  aid,  and  expired. 

When  the  color  bearers  fell,  Edward  L.  Shepard  and  Geo.  E. 
Worthen,  both  of  Ashland,   bravely   volunteered   to   take   their  places. 

After  retreating  a  short  distance  in  an  effort  to  form  a  line  facing 
the  south  to  check  the  advancing  Confederates,  the  12th  was  ordered  to 
execute  a  movement  known  in  army  tactics  as  "changing  front  to  the 
rear."  This  is  a  difficult  movement  to  make  even  on  the  parade 
ground,  and  its  execution  in  face  of  the  enemy  is  hazardous.     In  this 


PAGE    EIGHTY-EIGHT 


case  the  changing  of  front  was  to  the  left.  Troops  can  take  hard  blows 
when  like  blows  can  be  given  in  return,  but  here  in  making  this  move- 
ment no  reply  could  be  made  to  the  enemy  though  our  men  were  still 
falling. 

This  movement  was  partially  successful  and  the  men  of  our  bri- 
gade somewhat  broken  fell  into  line  with  the  6th  Corps,  advancing  to 
our  relief,  checked  the  advance  of  the  enemy  and  then  drove  them  pell 
mell  in  the  opposite  direction. 

But  the  work  of  the  day  was  not  over.  The  enemy  reformed  and 
massed  its  troops  for  another  supreme  effort.  The  scene  changes  with 
great  rapidity  and  power.  Longstreet's  massed  artillery  played  into 
the  Union  ranks  with  terrible  effect,  and  his  infantry,  strengthened  with 
fresh  troops,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  break  the  Union  lines  and 
capture  the  Union  guns  in  the  rear  of  the  peach  orchard,  and  just  as 
desperate  efforts  were  made  further  to  the  left  to  obtain  possession  of 
the  Round  Tops.  But  few  realize  the  importance  of  the  action  at  this 
time.  The  result  of  the  battle  and  perhaps  the  destiny  of  the  nation 
hung  in  the  balance.  The  Union  troops,  instead  of  flying  from  the 
scene  as  did  the  raw  troops  at  Bull  Run,  veterans  as  they  were,  held 
their  ground,  and  a  hand  to  hand  fight  ensued.  Then  on  the  double 
quick  came  the  2d  and  12th  Corps  to  their  assistance.  They  swung 
into  line  under  a  murderous  fire  and  checked  the  advance  of  a  victo- 
rious foe. 

In  the  struggle  at  this  point  the  5th  Regt.,  N.  H.  Vols.,  covered  it- 
self with  glory.  Here  its  gallant  leader,  Col.  Cross,  fell,  in  trying  to 
stem  the  tide,  and  here  fell  Gen.  Sickles  with  the  loss  of  a  leg. 

The  advance  of  the  enemy  thus  checked,  the  3d  Corps  was  ordered 
to  fall  to  the  rear. 

When  this  order  came,  night  was  falling  on  the  scene.  Two  thou- 
sand men  of  our  division  had  fallen,  and  of  the  brave  men  who  com- 
posed the  12th  Regt.,  at  noon  of  that  day,  one  half  had  been  left  dead 
or  wounded  on  the  field,  while  a  few  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy  as  prisoners  of  war. 

When  reaching  a  point  beyond  the  range  of  the  enemy's  guns  the 
men  of  the  3d  Corps  prepared  to  spend  the  night  as  best  they  could. 
There  was  no  pitching  of  even  shelter  tents  and  the  comrades  of  differ- 
ent organizations  fraternized  in  groups  as  most  convenient,  built  the 
ever  needed  camp-fire  and  made  coffee. 

Many  were  short  of  rations,  myself  among  the  number.  My  haver- 
sack contained  some  coffee  and  that  was  all,  but  in  falling  back  I  passed 
a  place  where  hardtack  had  been  issued  and  the  crumbs  from  the  boxes 
lay  upon  the  ground.  They  had  absorbed  moisture  from  the  ground, 
but  hungry  as  I  was  I  gathered  what  I  could  into  my  haversack  for  my 
supper.     That  evening  the  men  about  the  camp-fires  divided  rations  so 


PAGE    EIGHTY-NINE 


that  all  had  a  little.  In  our  party  were  several  Johnnies,  who  had  noth- 
ing to  eat.  We  shared  with  them  our  meagre  supply  and  were  soon 
on  as  good  terms  with  them  as  though  through  the  day  we  had  fought 
side  by  side. 

The  men  around  the  camp-fires  that  night  were  not  in  a  talkative 
mood.  They  were  worn  out  and  weary  with  the  excessive  marches 
of  the  last  few  days  and  the  hard  fighting  of  the  last  few  hours,  and 
their  hearts  were  sad  that  so  many  of  their  comrades  had  fallen,  and 
then  there  was  a  general  feeling  that  our  arms,  as  a  whole,  had  not 
been  successful  during  the  day,  and  many  a  veteran  as  he  lay  upon  the 
ground  that  night  was  unable  to  sleep  because  of  fears  that  the  fearful 
losses  of  the  day  had  been  of  no  avail.  He  recalled  to  mind  the  ter- 
rible carnage  at  Chancellorsville,  just  two  months  before,  and  its  dis- 
heartening effect,  and  feared  another  disaster  was  to  be  added  to  the 
cause  of  the  Union.  We  judged  of  the  battle  as  a  whole  by  what  we 
had  seen  in  our  immediate  vicinity,  when  fortunately  the  battle  was 
not  a  disaster  though  not  as  yet  a  sweeping  victory  for  the  Union. 

Light  had  hardly  dawned  the  morning  of  the  third  day  at  Gettys- 
burg when  the  pickets  commenced  firing,  and  without  the  reveille  the 
men  prepared  for  the  work  of  the  day.  The  men  of  the  12th,  scattered 
during  the  night,  came  together  around  the  flag,  at  least  those  left  for 
duty,  in  all  only  about  fifty,  though  a  few  more  were  gathered  from 
missing  during  the  day.  In  reorganizing  I  took  the  state  flag  and  car- 
ried it  that  day  and  for  a  few  weeks  afterward. 

Artillery  firing  succeeded  that  of  the  pickets,  and  later  the  infantry 
became  engaged,  and  thus  the  great  fight  of  the  third  day  at  Gettys- 
burg came  on  and  culminated  in  victory  to  the  Union  army,  and  the 
highwater  mark  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  was  passed. 

During  the  artillery  firing  of  the  morning  our  regiment  lost  a  few 
men  from  shells,  but  in  making  the  alignments  for  the  day  fresh  troops 
formed  the  first  line  of  battle,  and  the  remnant  of  the  12th  was  assigned 
to  the  support  of  a  battery  posted  on  the  crest  of  a  hill,  and  we  consti- 
tuted a  part  of  the  third  line  of  battle  on  that  part  of  the  field  which 
met  the  fury  of  Pickett's  charge  later  in  the  day. 

The  morning  passed  with  intermittent  fighting,  brisk  artillery  duels, 
the  crash  of  infantry  and  in  some  cases  the  bayonet  charge,  and  the 
enemy  was  driven  back  at  all  points  and  the  ground  lost  the  preceding 
day  was  recovered.     The  actions  of  the  morning  were  Union  victories. 

Noon  came  and  Gen.  Lee,  after  surveying  the  field  from  the  cupola 
of  the  College  building  on  Seminary  ridge,  determined  to  seek  to  re- 
trieve the  disasters  of  the  morning  by  making  a  supreme  effort  to 
pierce  the  Union  center  and  thus  destroy  the  Union  army. 

On  Seminary  ridge,  opposite  our  position,  were  massed  the  fresh 
troops  of  Gen.  Pickett's  division,  which  had  arrived  during  the  night 


PAGE    NINETY 


before  and  which  was  to  be  nearly  annihilated  that  day,  and  gain  im- 
mortal renown  in  the  greatest  onslaught  of  modern  warfare.  His  divi- 
sion, largely  increased  by  reenforcements  from  other  commands,  num- 
bered about  15,000  men. 

When  Lee  issued  his  orders  for  the  supreme  work  of  the  day  to 
commence,  115  of  his  guns,  massed,  opened  fire  on  our  center.  As 
many  or  more  guns  from  the  Union  lines  from  Round  Top  to  the  city 
responded,  and  for  two  hours  the  greatest  artillery  duel  of  the  war  con- 
tinued. The  ground  shook  and  trembled  beneath  us  and  the  air  was 
full  of  screeching  shot  and  shell,  and  many  a  brave  man  on  both  sides 
got  his  passports  to  eternity. 

Pickett's  Charge 

Finally  there  was  a  lull  in  the  artillery  fire  and  Pickett's  division 
moved  en  masse  with  bayonets  fixed  toward  the  Union  lines,  about  one 
mile  distant.  The  Union  guns,  which  Lee  hoped  he  had  silenced, 
opened  on  the  advancing  hosts,  huge  gaps  were  plowed  in  their  ranks, 
and  their  path  was  strewn  with  the  dead  and  wounded,  but  still  they 
pressed  on;  then  grape  and  canister  decimated  their  ranks  and  finally, 
as  they  came  within  close  range,  musketry  fire  added  to  the  awful 
slaughter;  but  still  undaunted  they  closed  up  their  ranks  and  pressed 
on  until  the  Union  lines  were  reached,  and  then  a  desperate  hand  to 
hand  contest  ensued.  But  this  was  not  a  contest  that  could  long  be 
continued,  and  an  order  to  retreat  was  sounded,  which  a  few  were 
able  to  obey,  but  the  larger  part  of  the  assailing  party  that  survived 
threw  down  their  arms  and  became  prisoners  of  war.  The  high  water 
mark  of  the  Confederacy  had  spent  its  fury  on  the  rocks  of  the  Union 
lines  and  the  Southern  cause  from  this  hour  was  doomed,  but  along 
the  path  traveled  by  these  devoted  men  lay  nearly  a  thousand  Confed- 
erate dead  and  many  times  that  number  of  wounded. 

During  this  charge  we  saw  comparatively  little  of  the  awful  car- 
nage that  was  going  on  in  our  immediate  front.  Our  orders  were  to  lie 
down  and  we  were  very  willing  to  obey,  but  we  saw  enough  and  heard 
enough  to  know  that  the  existence  of  a  nation  may  have  rested  on  the 
work  of  the  hour,  and  as  standing  erect  even  for  a  moment  might  mean 
the  end  of  our  earthly  career,  we  were  willing  to  judge  of  the  progress 
of  the  fight  mainly  by  hearing. 

As  we  lay  in  support  of  that  battery,  there  was  one  gun  on  the  Con- 
federate side  that  gave  the  boys  of  the  12th  particular  anxiety.  It  was 
of  large  calibre  and  was  posted  a  long  distance  away  in  our  front.  At 
regular  but  very  brief  intervals  it  threw  a  shell  directly  in  line  with 
our  position.  Upon  starting  from  the  muzzle  upon  its  mission  of  death 
we  could  see  the  shell,  leaving  a  small  trail  of  smoke  in  its  rear.     As  it 


PAGE    NINETY-ONE 


neared  us  it  fell  lower  and  lower,  and  we  were  certain  it  would  strike  by 
the  time  it  reached  us  and  annihilate  the  whole  regiment,  but  each  one 
passed  over  us  almost  within  reach  of  the  hand  and  crashed  into  a 
ledge  a  little  at  our  rear.  As  it  struck,  scattering  the  rocks  in  all  direc- 
tions, each  man  took  a  long  breath,  and  then  turned  to  look  for  the 
next  corner,  each  time  with  the  same  result. 

The  Wounded 

As  at  Chancellorsville,  our  regiment  lost  heavily  during  the  two 
days  of  our  engagement.  On  the  morning  of  July  2,  there  were  222 
men  in  line  and  during  that  day  and  the  following,  20  were  killed  on 
the  field  and  73  wounded,  of  whom  six  died  of  their  wounds.  The 
total  losses  to  the  Union  army  in  the  three  days  were  3,070  killed, 
14,497  wounded,  and  5,434  taken  prisoners,  a  total  of  over  23,000  men. 

Of  my  immediate  comrades  who  suffered  in  this  fight,  besides 
those  already  named,  was  Charles  N.  Drake.  He  had  passed  through 
the  slaughter  at  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  unscathed,  but 
here  his  right  leg  was  shattered  with  a  grape  shot.  He  crawled  a  few 
rods  to  the  rear  and  took  shelter  behind  a  large  rock.  While  lying 
here,  the  Union  line  fell  back  bringing  his  position  between  the  two 
lines,  and  here  a  Minie  ball  from  the  Union  army  passed  through  his 
left  lung  very  near  his  heart.  At  night  he  was  carried  from  the  field 
and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  his  leg  was  amputated  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  recovered  and  lived  32  years,  able  to  do  a 
fair  day's  work  as  a  carpenter. 

Henry  A.  Fellows  was  wounded  in  the  arm  and  had  several  ribs 
broken,  but  he  walked  twenty  miles  to  the  rear,  and  died  of  his  wounds 
six  weeks  later. 

Adna  Hall  was  wounded  in  the  early  part  of  the  fight  in  the  first 
day  of  our  engagement.  While  in  a  stooping  position  a  Minie  ball 
plowed  a  path  down  his  back.     He  died  of  his  wounds  at  Philadelphia. 

Sylvester  Swett  had  his  knapsack  and  canteen  shot  from  his  person 
and  a  Minie  ball  entered  his  ankle  and  was  not  removed  till  forty- 
eight  hours  later. 

Sergt.  U.  H.  Kidder  was  wounded  and  helped  over  a  fence  by  a 
piece  of  shell  striking  his  knapsack,  and  Daniel  W.  Bohonan,  a  Bristol 
boy  serving  on  the  quota  of  Danbury,  was  wounded. 

Comrade  Samuel  Brown  of  Hebron  was  among  the  killed.  Among 
the  wounded  were  Frank  Marshall  of  Hill,  Lieut.  B.  M.  Merrill,  Moses 
B.  Gilman,  Arthur  L.  Kimball,  Hiram  C.  Philbrick,  and  Jonathan  E. 
Leavitt  of  Sanbornton;  Samuel  C.  Robinson,  Corp.  Howard  Taylor  of 
New  Hampton;  Wm.  N.  French  and  Stephen  O.  Gray  of  Alexandria; 
Samuel  C.  Adams  of  Danbury;  while  Charles  E.  Edgerly  of  Sanborn- 


PAGE    NINETY-TWO 


ton  and  Geo.  N.   Drake  of  New  Hampton  were  among  the  captured. 

On  Saturday  morning,  following  the  fight  of  Thursday  afternoon, 
a  soldier  of  another  regiment  called  and  inquired  for  me.  He  said 
that  a  comrade  of  mine,  badly  wounded,  was  at  the  6th  Corps  hospital 
and  wanted  to  see  me.  I  at  once  hastened  to  the  place  indicated  and 
there  on  a  stretcher  I  found  Jonathan  Leavitt,  of  Sanbornton,  a  tent 
mate,   in    a    terrible    condition.  Both    feet    and    ankles     had    been 

crushed  by  a  cannon  ball  or  shell.  By  mistake  he  had  been  carried  to 
the  6th  Corps  hospital,  the  stretcher  placed  under  an  apple  tree  and 
there  he  had  lain  for  40  hours  unattended.  His  feet  had  turned  black 
and  were  fast  becoming  a  mass  of  corruption.  Scores  of  surgeons 
not  far  off  were  operating  on  men  of  the  6th  Corps,  but  this  poor  man, 
desperately  wounded  as  he  was,  had  received  no  attention  whatever. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  the  diamond  on  his  cap  indicated  that  he  be- 
longed to  the  3d  Corps  and  there  were  men  of  their  own  corps  just  as 
much  in  need  of  assistance  as  was  he.  I  say  this  may  have  been  the 
case,  so  I  will  make  no  reflections.  My  first  act  was  to  give  my  com- 
rade a  drink  of  water  and  then  I  attempted  to  find  some  surgeon  who 
would  dress  his  wounds,  but  all  were  too  busy  even  to  hear  my  story. 
I  then  hastened  back  to  camp  and  called  on  Hiram  VV.  Ferrin,  Uriah 
H.  Kidder,  and  Orren  G.  Colby  to  assist  me,  and  together  we  carried 
Comrade  Leavitt  two  miles  to  the  3d  Corps  hospital,  where  we  found 
Dr.  H.  B.  Fowler,  who  gave  him  immediate  attention.  Dr.  Fowler 
administered  ether  at  once  and  then  placed  the  poor  fellow  on  the  am- 
putation table,  but  before  removing  him  from  the  stretcher  he  passed 
his  knife  through  the  mass  of  flesh  and  bones  and  left  his  feet  and 
ankles  on  the  stretcher.  Dr.  Fowler  amputated  both  stumps  and  such 
was  the  demand  for  help  that  my  offer  to  assist  was  gladly  accepted. 
The  poor  fellow  died  in  the  operation. 

Young  Leavitt  was  evidently  aware  of  his  critical  condition,  but 
anxious  to  live.  On  the  road  to  the  hospital  we  met  a  regiment  of 
cavalry,  and  the  surgeon  stopped  and  looked  at  Leavitt's  wounds. 
"Well,  doctor,"  said  Leavitt,  "is  there  any  chance  for  me?"  "Yes, 
there  may  be,"  replied  the  surgeon  slowly.  The  last  words  the  poor 
fellow  spoke,  addressed  to  Dr.  Fowler,  were  of  the  same  tenor,  "Shall 
I  pull  through,  doctor?"  "Oh  yes,  you  are  young  and  I  hope  so,"  was 
the  reply. 

Having  seen  my  comrade  breathe  his  last  I  looked  about  me  before 
returning  to  my  regiment.  In  one  tent  close  by  was  Comrade  Drake 
and  by  his  side  Sergt.  Parker  of  Hill,  each  spoken  of  as  having  lost  a 
leg  on  Thursday.  The  prospect  for  the  recovery  of  Parker  was  much 
the  brighter  of  the  two,  but  a  few  days  later  the  tying  of  one  of  the 
arteries  gave  way  and  he  bled  to  death  in  a  short  time. 

The  scene  about  me  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.       Men  were 

PAGE    NINETY-THREE 


mutilated  in  all  conceivable  ways  and  piles  of  legs  and  arms  told  of  the 
work  of  the  surgeons.  Many  limbs  had  been  buried  but  in  shallow 
trenches,  and  a  brook  close  by,  swollen  to  large  proportions  by  the 
heavy  rain  that  followed  the  battle,  had  uncovered  many  and  these 
were  exposed  to  view. 

Years  later  in  talking  with  Comrade  Drake  of  these  scenes  I  asked 
him  what  disposition  was  made  of  his  leg.  "The  hogs  ate  it  up,"  was 
his  prompt  reply.  Then  he  explained  that  he  felt  the  pain  as  the  flesh 
was  torn  from  the  bones  by  the  hogs  just  as  plainly  as  though  the  leg 
had  not  been  amputated.  As  many  hogs  roamed  the  battle  field  and  its 
vicinity,  as  I  myself  observed,  I  thought  it  quite  probable  that  Comrade 
Drake  was  correct. 

After  the  Battle 

On  Monday,  the  6th,  in  company  with  some  of  my  comrades,  I 
went  over  that  portion  of  the  field  near  us.  Evidences  of  the  fearful 
strife  that  had  taken  place  were  on  every  hand — broken  caissons,  dis- 
abled guns  and  gun  carriages,  small  arms  in  profusion,  knapsacks  and 
canteens  were  lying  about,  dead  horses  not  yet  buried  and  wounded 
horses  looking  with  almost  human  faces  at  one  for  relief.  In  all  direc- 
tions the  earth  had  been  plowed  with  shot  and  shell,  trees  were  scarred 
and  limbs  cut  from  the  trunks  and  small  trees  felled  by  the  fierce  iron 
storm. 

At  the  base  of  Little  Round  Top  a  most  ghastly  sight  presented 
itself.  Burial  parties  had  buried  most  of  the  dead  on  the  field  where 
they  fell,  but  here  the  surface  was  thickly  covered  with  rocks;  graves 
were  hard  to  dig  and  soil  was  difficult  to  find,  or  it  may  have  been 
that  this  part  of  the  field  had  been  overlooked.  At  least  none  of  the 
dead  here  had  been  buried.  At  the  base  of  this  hill  the  Johnnies  had 
charged  at  fearful  cost  at  Hazlett's  battery  placed  near  the  summit. 
The  dead  lay  here  so  thick  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  we  could 
walk  without  stepping  on  the  lifeless  forms.  The  features  of  all  had 
turned  black  and  maggots  were  crawling  in  and  out  of  the  gaping 
wounds.  The  boulders  had  protected  the  lower  part  of  the  victims 
and  nearly  all  the  death  wounds  were  in  the  head  or  upper  parts  of  the 
bodies.  Nearly  all  of  them  had  their  pockets  turned  inside  out  show- 
ing that  human  ghouls  had  here  robbed  the  dead.  These  scenes  are 
still  vivid  on  the  page  of  memory,  and  the  remembrance  causes  a  shud- 
der of  horror  still. 

There  were  no  unburied  dead  in  our  immediate  vicinity  and  yet 
the  stench  from  the  battlefield  was  terrible,  and  we  were  anxious  to  be 
on  the  move,  especially  as  all  the  water  that  could  be  obtained  was 
from  brooks  flowing  over  the  field  of  battle. 


PAGE    NINETY-FOUR 


I  make  the  statement  that  I  carried  the  state  flag  during  the  third 
day's  fight  at  Gettysburg  because  it  is  the  simple  truth  and  not  be- 
cause I  am  disposed  to  claim  honors  that  do  not  belong  to  me.  Capt. 
A.  W.  Bartlett,  in  his  admirable  "History  of  the  12th  Regt ,"  gives  the 
credit,  by  implication  at  least,  to  Sergt.  Edward  L.  Shepard  of  Co.  E  of 
carrying  the  colors  on  the  third  day.  Capt.  Bartlett  was  not  at  the 
battle  of  Gettysburg,  and  in  his  efforts  to  give  justice  to  all  in  the  fre- 
quent changes  of  color  bearers  in  that  fight  admits  that  it  is  with  great 
difficulty  that  he  is  able  to  arrive  at  what  he  thought  to  be  the  facts  in 
the  case.  Capt.  Bartlett  says  that  I  carried  the  flag  after  the  battle 
and  thus  falls  into  the  error  of  giving  the  credit  to  two  men  carrying 
the  state  flag  at  the  same  time,  when  he  says  that  Private  Shepard, 
after  first  taking  the  colors,  continued  to  carry  them  till  the  regiment 
arrived  at  Point  Lookout.  I  do  not  claim  to  know  from  personal  ob- 
servation all  the  changes  that  took  place  in  color  bearers  during  that 
fight,  but  the  following  appear  to  be  the  facts,  which  in  the  main  agree 
with  the  historian: 

Sergt.  Luther  H.  Parker  of  Hill,  Co.  D,  carried  the  stars  and 
stripes  and  Sergt.  Wm.  J.  Howe  of  Co.  E  carried  the  state  colors  into 
that  fight.  Sergt.  Howe  was  killed  and  Sergt.  Parker  received  his 
death  wound  about  the  same  time  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day, 
and  most  of  the  color  guard  were  killed  or  wounded.  Corp.  Samuel 
Brown  of  Co.  C,  one  of  the  guard,  took  the  colors  as  Parker  fell,  and 
almost  immediately  was  killed.  Sergt.  Charles  S.  Emery  and  Corp. 
John  R.  Davis,  both  of  Co.  F,  seized  the  colors  and  bore  them  from 
the  field  in  the  retreat,  thus  preventing  them  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  After  falling  back  a  little  distance,  the  regiment 
was  reorganized  for  further  work,  and  here  volunteers  to  carry  the 
flags  were  called  for.  At  this  point  Private  George  E.  Worthen  vol- 
unteered to  take  the  stars  and  stripes  and  Corp.  Edward  L.  Shepard 
the  state  colors,  both  of  Co.  E.  These  men  carried  the  colors  during 
the  remainder  of  the  day  and  Worthen  continued  this  duty  till  the 
regiment  arrived  at  Point  Lookout.  The  next  morning,  before  start- 
ing in  for  the  work  of  the  day,  I  took  the  state  colors  and  carried  that 
flag  during  that  day,  and  for  some  over  two  weeks,  when  I  was  relieved 
by  Sergt.  Shepard. 

At  that  time  we  were  passing  through  the  loyal  section  of  Mary- 
land on  the  march  back  into  Virginia,  and,  in  response  to  the  demon- 
strations of  the  people,  the  bands  and  drum  corps  were  constantly 
employed  and  the  flags  were  carried  unfurled.  This  was  a  hardship 
I  was  not  equal  to  and  was  therefore  relieved,  and  Corp.  Shepard  suc- 
ceeded me.  The  fact  that  Shepard  took  the  colors  on  the  second  day 
at  Gettysburg  and  again  became  color  bearer  a  few  weeks  later  natur- 
ally led  the  historian  to  conclude  that  he  carried  the  colors  during  the 
interval. 

PAGE    NINETY-FIVE 


In  order  to  substantiate  my  statement  by  that  of  one  who  would 
be  most  likely  to  remember  the  facts  as  they  were,  I  lately  asked  Lieut. 
Worthen,  who  was  closely  associated  with  me  on  the  third  day  at 
Gettysburg,  as  to  his  recollections  of  the  facts.  In  response  he  writes 
under  date  of  June  10,  1910,  as  follows:  "I  recollect  the  facts  to  be  that 
Sergts.  Howe  and  Parker  carried  the  colors  into  the  fight  the  second 
day  of  the  engagement,  the  first  day  that  the  12th  Regt.  was  engaged; 
that  Sergt.  Howe  fell  and  I  took  the  U.  S.  flag  and  carried  it  the  bal- 
ance of  that  day,  through  the  next  day  and  until  the  regiment  reached 
Point  Lookout.  When  Sergt.  Parker,  who  carried  the  state  colors, 
fell,  Sergt.  Shepard  took  them  and  carried  them  the  balance  of  that 
day.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day's  fight  Sergt.  R.  W.  Musgrove 
took  the  state  colors,  carried  them  through  that  day's  fight  and  for 
some  weeks  later." 

Signed    "George    E.    Worthen." 

Saturday  night  a  fearful  rainstorm  came  as  usual  after  a  battle. 
The  men  were  unprepared,  for  such  a  storm  and  suffered  much  during 
the  night.  In  the  morning  we  moved  to  higher  ground,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  obtain  water,  except  we  used  the  washings  of  the  battle 
field,  and  the  stench  grew  worse  rather  than  better. 

On  Sunday,  July  5,  it  was  known  that  the  rebel  army  was  on  the 
retreat.  Gen.  Imboden  of  the  Confederate  army,  who  had  charge  of 
the  wounded  sent  south  from  the  battle  field,  has  written  that  his  train 
of  wounded  men  was  seventeen  miles  in  length. 

Capt.  Bartlett's  Description 

The  following  description  is  taken  from  Capt.  Bartlett's  History  of 
the  Twelfth  Regiment: 

"Shortly  after  noon  the  very  windows  of  Heaven  seemed  to  have 
been  opened.  Rain  fell  in  dashing  torrents,  and  in  a  little  while  the 
whole  face  of  the  earth  was  covered  with  water.  The  meadows  be- 
came small  lakes,  raging  streams  ran  across  the  road  in  every  depres- 
sion of  the  ground.  The  storm  increased  in  fury  every  moment,  can- 
vas was  no  protection  against  it,  and  the  poor  wounded  lying  upon  the 
hard,  naked  boards  of  the  wagon-bodies  were  drenched  by  the  cold 
rain.  Horses  and  mules  were  blinded  and  maddened  by  the  storm 
and  became  almost  unmanageable.  The  roar  of  the  winds  and  waters 
made  it  almost  imposssible  to  communicate  orders;  night  was  rapidly 
approaching  and  there  was  danger  that  in  the  darkness  the  confusion 
would  become  'worse   confounded.' 

"About  4  p.  m.  the  head  of  the  column  was  put  in  motion  and 
begun  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  The  train  was  seventeen  miles  long 
when  drawn  out  on  the  road.  It  was  moving  rapidly  and  from  every 
wagon  issued  wails  of  agony.  For  four  hours  I  galloped  along,  pass- 
ing to  the  front  and  heard  no  more — it  was  too  dark  to  see — of  the 


PAGE    NINETY-SIX 


horrors  of  war  that  I  had  witnessed  from  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  to 
that  day.  In  the  wagons  were  men  wounded  and  mutilated  in  every 
conceivable  way.  Some  had  their  legs  shattered  by  a  shell  or  Minie 
ball;  some  were  shot  through  their  bodies;  others  had  arms  torn  to 
shreds;  some  had  received  a  ball  in  the  face,  or  a  jagged  piece  of  shell 
had  lacerated  their  heads. 

"Scarcely  one  in  a  hundred  had  received  adequate  surgical  aid; 
and  many  had  been  without  food  for  thirty-six  hours. 

"Their  ragged,  dirty,  and  bloody  clothes,  all  clotted  and  hardened 
with  blood,  were  rasping  the  tender,  inflamed  lips  of  their  gaping 
wounds.  Very  few  of  the  wagons  had  even  straw  in  them,  and  all 
were  without  springs.  The  road  was  rough  and  rocky.  The  jolting 
was  enough  to  have  killed  strong,  sound  men.  From  nearly  every 
wagon  as  the  horses  trotted  along  such  cries  and  shrieks  as  these 
greeted  our  ears: 

"  'O  God!     Why  can't  I  die?' 

'  'My  God!  Will  no  one  have  mercy  and  kill  me,  and  end  my 
misery?' 

"  'Oh!  stop  one  minute,  take  me  out  and  leave  me  by  the  roadside 
to  die.' 

"  'I  am  dying!  I  am  dying!  Oh,  my  poor  wife  and  children! 
What  will  become  of  you?' 

"Some  were  praying,  others  were  uttering  the  most  fearful  oaths 
and  imprecations  that  despair  could  wring  from  them  in  their  agony. 
Occasionally  a  wagon  would  be  passed  from  which  only  low,  deep 
moans  and  groans  could  be  heard.  No  help  could  be  given  to  any  of 
the  sufferers.     On,  on,  we  must  move  on. 

"The  storm  continued  and  the  darkness  was  fearful.  There  was 
no  time  even  to  fill  a  canteen  with  water  for  a  dying  man;  for,  except 
for  the  driver  and  guards,  disposed  in  compact  bodies  every  half  mile, 
all  were  wounded  in  that  vast  train  of  human  misery.  No  language 
can  convey  an  idea  of  the  horrors  of  that  most  horrible  of  all  nights  of 
our  long  and  bloody  war." 

While  here  the  army  was  still  further  cheered  by  the  news  of  the 
fall  of  Vicksburg,  and  the  rank  and  file  were  anxious  to  be  led  against 
the  rebel  army  in  the  hope  that  the  work  of  crushing  the  rebellion 
might  be  finished  then  and  there. 

Instead  of  this,  however,  came  the  news  that  the  rebel  army  was 
retreating.  The  greater  part  of  our  army  was  in  pursuit.  The  next 
morning  (Monday,  July  6)  an  order  was  read  that  our  cavalry  had 
destroyed  the  enemy's  pontoons.  This  was  cheering,  but  we  saw  no 
indications  later  that  the  report  was  true,  at  least  it  resulted  in  no 
serious  injury  to  the  rebel  army. 

South  Again 

At  3  o'clock  Tuesday  morning  (July  7),  the  3d  Corps  commenced 
its  march  southward.  It  halted  at  noon  at  Emmitsville  or  Emmits- 
burg,  and  then  pressed  on  and  bivouacked  for  the  night  near  Mechanics- 


PAGE    NINETY-SEVEN 


town,  about  18  miles  from  Gettysburg.  Wednesday  we  reached  Fred- 
erick City,  Md..  and  Thursday  night  bivouacked  at  Foxes  Gap,  South 
Mountain,  northeast  of  Frederick  City,  and  Friday  (10th)  marched  to 
within  five  miles  of  Hagerstown,  Md.,  still  further  to  the  north  east, 
reaching  there  about  7  p.  m.  Here  we  expected  to  remain  for  the  night, 
but  at  10  o'clock  the  call  to  fall  in  was  sounded  and  we  tramped  five 
miles  more  to  Boonesboro,  which  we  reached  at  3  a.  m.  Saturday.  We 
halted  in  a  wheat  field,  and  the  newly  cut  grain  made  comfortable  beds 
for  the  remainder  of  the  night  for  the  weary  soldiers. 

Now  came  several  days  of  comparative  inactivity.  We  were  hang- 
ing about  the  rebel  army,  apparently  not  daring  to  attack,  and  our 
movements  were  regulated  by  theirs.  At  one  point  we  occupied  strong 
intrenchments  just  vacated  by  the  enemy.  We  were  constantly  under 
arms  and  were  frequently  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  but  apparently 
neither  side  dared  bring  on  a  general  engagement. 

One  day  (Tuesday,  July  14)  I  had  a  rare  treat  for  those  days — 
an  opportunity  to  take  a  bath,  and  I  washed  my  shirt.  As  I  had  but 
one  shirt  I  was  obliged  to  put  it  on  wet  after  giving  it  a  scrubbing. 

On  Wednesday,  July  15,  the  reveille  sounded  at  5  o'clock,  and  we 
were  told  we  would  not  have  time  to  make  coffee  and  but  few  attempted 
to  make  any.  I  concluded  to  see  what  could  be  done  in  that  line  and 
succeeded  not  only  in  making  coffee  but  drinking  it,  and  then,  after 
falling  into  line,  we  stood  where  we  were  for  the  entire  12th  Corps  to 
pass,  then  we  struck  almost  into  a  double  quick  through  Pleasanttown 
and  reached  Sharpsburg,  where  we  halted  ten  minutes.  Then  we  were 
told  we  were  to  march  through  the  town  and  then  rest  a  few  hours. 
We  resumed  the  march  and  on,  on  we  rushed  through  the  dust,  under 
the  hot  sun,  spurred  on  by  the  officers,  and  it  seemed  that  some  great 
emergency  must  demand  such  hasty  marching;  and  so  the  men  did  the 
best  they  could.  But  Gen.  Lee's  army  had  crossed  the  river  into  Vir- 
ginia two  days  before,  and  if  there  was  any  justification  for  this  haste 
the  men  in  the  ranks  never  found  it  out.  There  were  many  cases  of 
sun  stroke,  and  I  saw  several  by  the  wayside  who  appeared  to  be  dying. 
Straggling  was  very  general  and  finally  all  semblance  of  organization 
was  lost  and  the  head  of  the  column  halted,  and  went  into  camp  to 
allow  the  stragglers  to  catch  up. 

This  day  we  passed  over  the  Antietam  battle  ground,  crossing  the 
stream  here  on  the  stone  bridge,  which  was  one  of  the  storm  centers 
of  that  fight.  There  were  many  evidences  of  the  severity  of  this 
engagement,  chiefly  on  the  trees,  which  had  not  yet  outgrown  the 
wounds  they  then  received. 

That  afternoon  we  went  into  camp  near  where  a  sutler  had  just 
erected  a  large  tent  well  stocked  with  supplies  for  the  men.  Not  since 
the  army  had  left  camp  near  Falmouth  had  there  been  an  opportunity 

PAGE    NINETY-EIGHT 


to  patronize  a  sutler  and  the  crush  was  great.  The  sutler  had  but  few 
clerks  and  the  officers  must  be  served  first  so  the  men  had  to  wait. 
Tired  as  all  were,  and  hungry  as  many  were,  grumbling  and  threats 
soon  commenced;  and  then  the  high  prices  charged  and  the  poor  quality 
of  the  goods  only  exasperated  them  the  more.  My  tent  was  but 
a  little  way  off  on  higher  ground  in  full  view  of  the  sutler's  tent,  and 
seeing  trouble  in  the  air  I  retired  to  my  tent  to  take  observations.  But 
a  short  time  elapsed  when  the  excited  men  drew  their  jackknives  and  cut 
all  the  guys  of  the  tent,  and  then  there  was  a  grand  rush  for  the  sutler's 
goods,  and  the  poor  man's  stock  was  rapidly  disposed  of  at  retail  but 
at  ruinous  prices,  and  a  thousand  men  were  making  tracks  for  their  tents 
loaded  with  sutler's  goods,  and  by  the  time  a  guard  arrived,  there  were 
no  soldiers  or  supplies  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  goods  were  dis- 
tributed with  marvelous  quickness.  A  box  of  tobacco,  for  instance, 
which  started  off  on  the  shoulder  of  a  man,  was  almost  instantly  dis- 
tributed into  the  pockets  of  the  men,  and  nothing  but  the  box  remained. 
Sutlers  were  in  the  army  to  make  money.  They  generally  made  it,  but 
got  the  ill  will  of  the  men  by  their  extortion. 

The  sutler  of  the  12th  Regt.,  or  at  least  the  man  who  acted  for 
him,  Woodbury  Sanborn,  was  an  exception  to  the  rule.  He  was  a 
firm  friend  of  the  boys,  and  was  respected  and  loved  by  them  in  turn. 
After  the  war  as  long  as  he  lived,  he  was  a  leading  spirit  in  their  re- 
unions. He  it  was  that  had  the  big  rock  at  the  Weirs  lettered  in  honor 
of  the  several  state  organizations,  and  it  was  to  his  honor  that  the  me- 
morial fence  was  erected  about  the  stone. 

In  our  march  through  Maryland  going  south,  as  in  going  north  in 
the  pursuit  of  Lee,  the  people  showed  their  loyalty  in  many  ways,  and 
this  was  recognized  by  the  army  in  marching  as  though  on  parade,  the 
drum  beating  or  bands  playing  and  the  colors  unfurled.  In  carrying 
the  colors  on  the  march  rolled  up  as  they  usually  were,  it  was  but  little 
more  difficult  than  a  musket,  but  in  marching  through  Maryland,  the 
colors  were  unfurled  much  of  the  time,  and,  especially  if  even  a  light 
wind  blew,  it  required  all  my  strength,  light  in  stature  and  weight,  as  I 
was,  to  carry  them  and  keep  in  my  place  in  the  line.  Each  day  the  task 
became  harder  and  I  was  finally  obliged  to  ask  the  adjutant  to  relieve 
me,  and  he  did,  Sergeant  A.  L.  Shepard  of  Co.  C  succeeding  me,  as 
stated  previously. 

For  a  few  days,  after  being  relieved  of  the  colors,  I  felt  played  out. 
In  fact  I  was  sick,  and  one  morning  I  responded  to  the  sick  call,  and 
Dr.  Fowler  promptly  gave  me  an  order  for  a  ride  in  the  ambulance.  This 
was  the  only  time  that  I  was  even  excused  from  the  ranks  while  on 
the  march  on  account  of  sickness,  or  asked  to  be;  and  this  morning, 
when  presenting  myself  at  the  ambulances,  I  found  they  were  full,  so, 
after  giving  my  knapsack  to  one  of  the  drivers,  I  trudged  on  afoot. 

PAGE    NINETY-NINE 


On  Friday,  July  17,  we  reached  Harper's  Ferry,  and  had  a  fine 
opportunity  to  see  this  world  renowned  place.  We  marched  past  the 
engine  house,  where  John  Brown  and  his  deluded  followers  made  a 
brave  defence,  thence  crossed  the  river  into  Virginia,  and  bivouacked 
on  Boliver  Heights. 

The  next  morning,  early,  we  resumed  the  march  and  reached  Hills- 
boro.  Here  we  halted  about  an  hour  and  then  retraced  our  steps  a 
half  mile  and  went  into  camp.  While  resting  beside  the  road  in  Hills- 
boro,  I  observed  a  spring  house  near  a  planter's  residence,  and  so  visi- 
ted it  to  fill  my  canteen.  On  entering,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to 
find  several  pans  and  pails  of  sweet  milk  placed  in  the  running  water 
to  keep  them  cool.  It  was  a  lucky  find  for  a  thirsty  soldier.  I  took 
a  liberal  drink,  filled  my  canteen  and  rejoined  my  comrades,  telling 
them  of  my  find;  and  a  large  number  at  once  made  a  break  for  the 
spring  house,  and  all  the  milk  left  promptly  disappeared.  Later  in  the 
day,  I  picked  some  blackberries,  and  the  same  day  one  of  my  comrades 
captured  a  chicken  at  a  near-by  farmhouse,  which  I  broiled  and  assisted 
in  eating,  so  that  I  fared  pretty  well  that  day.  We  were  then  in  the 
same  vicinity  as  in  the  previous  fall,  when  we  fared  so  well  by  forag- 
ing. 

We  left  Hillsboro  early  Sunday  morning  (July  19th),  and  marched 
ten  miles,  and  the  next  day  fifteen  miles  to  Upperville,  Va.,  and 
encamped  only  a  few  rods  from  one  of  our  camping  places  the  fall 
before. 

About  2  p.  m.,  Wednesday  (22d),  we  left  Upperville,  marched 
about  eight  miles  and  bivouacked  a  mile  beyond  Piedmont  Station. 
Early  the  next  morning,  we  resumed  the  march,  and  leaving  the  War- 
rington road,  took  the  one  that  led  through  Manassas  Gap  to  Front 
Royal.  The  road  was  up  and  down  steep  hills,  over  rocks  and  through 
brooks.  The  road  thus  hard  and  the  day  hot,  we  were  glad  to  halt 
and  stack  arms  about  four  miles  from  Front  Royal.  Here  the  cavalry 
men  told  us  that  the  "Rebs"  were  but  two  or  three  miles  in  advance, 
and  soon  we  saw  a  part  of  the  Third  Brigade  advance  as  skirmishers 
and  very  soon  open  fire.  They  continued  to  advance  and  the  reserve  to 
follow  up,  with  the  remainder  of  the  brigade  in  line  of  battle. 

We  had  a  fine  view  of  this  advance.  As  expected,  our  turn  to 
move  forward  soon  came.  The  enemy  fell  slowly  back  for  about  a 
mile,  we  following,  when  the  firing  commenced  to  grow  warmer,  and 
the  enemy  opened  upon  us  with  their  artillery,  but  fell  short  of  reach- 
ing us  and  did  us  but  little  harm. 

We  took  quite  a  number  of  prisoners  as  we  moved  onward.  Two 
rebels,  when  they  saw  a  captain  fall  in  our  lines,  threw  down  their 
guns  and  ran  and  helped  him  to  our  rear,  thus  getting  into  our  lines. 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED 


Darkness  coming  on,  we  lay  down  to  rest  on  the  ground  by  our 
arms,  with  equipments  all  on,  ready  to  spring  into  line  at  a  moment's 
warning.  We  had  no  permission  to  sleep,  'even  in  that  condition,  but 
as  the  order  was  to  rest,  and  as  we  were  fatigued,  we  soon  fell  asleep 
and  did  not  wake  up  until  morning,  although  we  lay  on  the  rocks  upon 
the  side  of  a  hill  so  steep  that  we  had  to  get  our  heels  against  a  stone 
to  keep  from  sliding  down. 

The  engagement  here  was  but  little  more  than  a  skirmish,  and  the 
dead  and  wounded  numbered  but  a  hundred  or  two.  The  rebel  loss 
was  perhaps  as  heavy  in  men  who  allowed  themselves  to  be  captured 
as  by  the  dead  and  wounded.  As  we  pressed  on  towards  Front  Royal, 
there  lay  beside  the  road  a  dead  rebel.  He  was  perhaps  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  tall  and  fine  looking.  In  contrast  with  the  usual  southern 
soldier,  he  was  well  dressed,  clean  shaved  and  with  curly  hair  that  ex- 
tended to  his  shoulders.  He  had  evidently  prided  himself  on  his  good 
looks,  and  was  quite  likely  the  idol  of  some  household  or  the  center  of 
some  fashionable  circle.  The  sight  of  this  dead  man  impressed  me 
deeply,  accustomed  though  I  was  at  that  time  to  scenes  of  death,  and 
during  the  years  that  have  since  passed,  I  have  frequently  recalled  that 
scene. 

We  expected  a  renewal  of  the  fight  next  day,  but  in  the  morning 
there  were  no  rebels  to  be  found,  and  we  advanced  to  within  a  mile  of 
Front  Royal,  when  a  single  shell  sent  over  by  the  enemy  caused  us  to 
halt,  form  a  line  of  battle  again,  and  in  this  way  we  moved  forward 
upon  ground  perfectly  awful  to  march  over.  When  we  got  to  the 
town  we  halted,  and  a  cavalry  force  was  sent  ahead,  but  discovered  no 
rebels  that  side  of  the  Shenandoah  river.  We  then  retraced  our  steps, 
and  marched  back  about  eight  miles  where  we  camped  for  the  night. 
That  day  we  marched  about  16  miles,  halting  for  the  night  with- 
in six  miles  of  Warrington,  where  our  regiment  did  picket  duty,  start- 
ing again  next  morning  about  5  o'clock. 

We  supposed  we  were  to  have  a  rest  at  Warrington,  and  draw 
some  shoes  and  clothing,  which  we  were  really  suffering  for.  My  feet 
had  been  so  sore  for  several  days  as  to  give  me  great  pain  every  time  I 
stepped.  Instead  of  resting,  we  passed  through  the  town  toward  Cul- 
pepper. It  was  hot  and  dusty,  and  we  were  so  worn  out  that  it  seemed 
impossible  to  move  any  further.  In  this  condition  we  were  taking  a 
short  rest,  and  the  bugle  had  just  sounded  for  us  to  "fall  in,"  when  an 
order  came  for  our  regiment  to  proceed  no  further,  as  we  were  detached 
from  our  brigade  and  ordered  to  report  to  General  Marston.  It  was 
said  we  were  going  to  Point  Lookout  to  guard  prisoners;  and  if  ever 
news  was  gladly  received  by  weary  soldiers,  this  was  by  us.  Yet  we 
hardly  dared  to  believe  it  true,  but  we  were  glad  for  a  change  of  some 
or  almost  any  kind  that  promised  a  little  rest. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    ONE 


On  Sunday,  July  26,  the  regiment  marched  back  to  Warrington, 
and  I  was  detailed  with  eight  men  to  guard  the  regimental  property, 
which  was  sent  to  the  depot  there.  After  posting  my  men,  I  made  an 
individual  boiled  dinner  in  my  tin  cup.  My  haversack  contributed  the 
salt  pork,  and  a  southern  gentleman's  garden,  near  by,  contributed  the 
vegetables.  I  was  anxious  to  make  coffee  in  the  same  dipper,  and  so 
I  presume  I  did  not  give  the  dinner  a  sufficient  time  to  boil,  but  it  was 
a  good  treat  even  if  not  quite  done  when  eaten. 

As  may  be  imagined,  the  boys  were  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a 
change.  For  forty-seven  days  they  had  been  on  the  march  or  on  the 
battle  field;  they  were  reduced  in  flesh  and  exhausted  in  body;  the  shoes 
had  almost  entirely  disappeared  from  the  feet  of  many;  and  the  clothes 
of  all  were  ragged  and  dirty.  No  wonder  the  boys  went  into  camp 
with  light  hearts,  waiting  for  the  train  to  convey  them  to  Washington, 
where  they  were  to  take  the  boat  for  Point  Lookout. 

The  2d  and  5th  Regiments,  N.  H.  Vols.,  were  equally  fortunate, 
as  they,  too,  were  detached  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and,  like 
the  12th,  ordered  to  report  to  Gen.  Marston  for  duty  at  Point  Lookout. 
On  reaching  Washington,  the  5th  was  still  further  famed,  for  from 
there  they  were  ordered  to  New  Hampshire  to  recruit,  and  did  not 
reach  Point  Lookout  till  November  following. 

The  several  regiments  composing  Gen.  Marston's  brigade  and  the 
prisoners  we  had  captured  at  Front  Royal  and  some  others  left  War- 
rington, Va.,  for  Washington  in  three  trains  at  10  a.  m.,  Monday,  July 
27,  1863,  the  12th  Regt.  moving  first.  We  arrived  at  Washington 
about  midnight. 

On  our  passage  from  Warrington  to  Alexandria  and  Washington, 
the  people  gathered  at  the  stations  to  see  us  pass.  This  was  especially 
true  at  Alexandria,  and  the  disloyalty  of  the  people  was  shown  in 
many  ways.  We  had  as  one  member  of  the  12th,  a  man  who  was  con- 
nected with  the  commissary  or  quartermaster's  department,  and  was 
not  therefore  obliged  to  wear  a  regulation  suit  at  all  times.  He  had 
procured  a  butternut  jacket  and  found  he  could  get  favors  at  the  farm- 
houses, when  wearing  it  much  better  than  when  he  wore  a  blue  jacket, 
many  supposing  him  a  Johnnie.  On  this  trip  he  wore  this  jacket  and 
rode  in  the  baggage  car  unarmed  with  the  guard,  and  many  of  the 
people  evidently  thought  he  was,  like  others  with  us,  a  prisoner  of  war, 
and  he  consequently  received  many  favors  from  the  people,  among 
which  were  kisses  thrown  at  him  by  the  girls.  Even  in  Washington, 
more  favors  were  shown  the  prisoners  than  we  received,  showing  that 
the  sessession  element  there  was  still  prominent. 

On  arriving  at  Washington,  we  were  given  quarters  in  the  soldiers 
barracks.     When  in  Washington  ten  months  before  we  were  a  thousand 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED   TWO 


strong,  but  at  this  time,  there  were  just  sixty-nine  guns  as  they  were 
stacked  in  the  center  of  our  quarters. 

The  first  day  here  was  devoted  to  rest  and  it  was  appreciated.  In 
the  afternoon  I  visited  the  new  capitol  near  by,  then  in  process  of  con- 
struction. Peddlers  selling  all  kinds  of  pastry  and  fruit  swarmed 
about  our  quarters  all  the  time  we  were  there,  but,  fortunately,  per- 
haps, we  were  short  of  money  and  could  not  indulge  as  freely  as  the 
appetite  suggested.  Our  prisoners,  who  were  quartered  in  adjoining 
barracks,  did  not  need  to  purchase,  for  friends  brought  all  they  could 
consume. 

On  the  night  of  the  28th  an  incident  occurred  that  showed  how 
easily  even  veterans  may  be  stampeded  when  taken  by  surprise.  Dur- 
ing the  day  we  learned  that  some  cavalry  regiments  which  were  in 
the  city  were  disgruntled  about  something  and  disposed  to  make 
trouble.  At  night  we  were  told  to  have  our  arms  and  equipments 
ready  for  instant  use,  as  we  might  be  called  during  the  night  to  help 
the  authorities  preserve  order.  The  guns  were  stacked  in  the  middle 
of  the  barracks,  and  the  men  slept  on  both  sides  of  the  stack.  In  the 
middle  of  the  night  a  man  got  up  in  his  sleep  and  butted  over  the  first 
stack  of  guns.  This  struck  the  second  stack  and  that  went  over.  In 
turn  the  whole  line  went  crashing  to  the  floor.  One  of  the  first  guns 
that  fell  struck  a  man  on  the  foot  and  in  pain  or  fright  he  cried  out. 
The  scream  and  the  crash  of  arms  made  the  men  think  the  cavalry 
were  among  them  cutting  and  slashing.  The  men  sprang  to  their 
feet  and  rushed  like  mad  men  from  the  building,  and  by  the  time  they 
were  fairly  awake,  they  found  themselves  in  the  middle  of  the  street. 
It  chanced  that  I  was  awake  at  the  time  the  cause  of  the  panic  hap- 
pened and  saw  it  all,  and  as  the  men  commenced  to  spring  from  the 
floor  I  yelled  at  the  top  of  my  voice  that  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm, 
but  not  a  man  heard  me.  This  episode  was  the  cause  of  a  hearty 
laugh  when  the  men  came  to  their  senses. 

Wednesday,  July  29,  Lon  Jewett  and  I  worked  making  out  the  pay- 
roll of  our  company  for  the  previous  two  months. 

On  Friday,  July  31,  we  were  paid  for  four  months'  service,  and  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day,  about  6  o'clock,  we  went  on  board  the 
steamer  "John  Brooks,"  at  7th  Street  wharf,  and  about  noon  the  next 
day  landed  at  Point  Lookout,  Md. 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    THREE 


CHAPTER  X 
POINT  LOOKOUT 

Point  Lookout  is  a  narrow  arm  of  land  one-fourth  mile  wide,  lying 
between  the  mouth  of  the  Potomac  river  and  Chesapeake  bay  in  Mary- 
land. The  Potomac  there  was  three  or  four  miles  wide  and  its  waters 
on  the  south  washed  the  northern  shores  of  Virginia;  to  the  east  was 
the  broad  expanse  of  the  bay,  while  a  mile  or  more  to  the  north  the 
land  between  these  two  bodies  of  water  was  contracted  to  a  narrow 
strip,  so  that  the  Point  was  almost  an  island — an  ideal  place  for  a  camp 
of  prisoners  of  war,  its  surrounding  waters  being  easily  guarded  by 
gun  boats  and  the  narrow  strip  spoken  of  easily  guarded  by  a  battery. 

Previous  to  the  war  the  Point  was  a  summer  resort  of  some  note 
for  those  days.  One  small  hotel  stood  on  the  beach  facing  the  bay, 
and  long  rows  of  barrack-like  cottages,  all  connected,  stood  south  of 
the  hotel,  one  facing  the  bay  and  another  the  river. 

At  the  time  of  our  going  there,  the  United  States  had  a  general 
hospital  at  the  extreme  point  in  buildings  erected  for  the  purpose,  with 
a  capacity  of  500  beds.  At  this  time  about  one-half  were  filled.  The 
hotel  was  appropriated  by  Gen.  Marston  as  headquarters. 

To  soldiers  from  the  field,  with  the  experience  that  had  been  ours 
during  the  year  previous,  the  Point  seemed  almost  a  fairy  land.  Our 
shelter  tents  were  discarded,  and  we  drew  new  A  tents,  one  for  each 
two  men.  The  officers  drew  wall  tents.  These  were  pitched  on  a 
well-laid-out  ground  on  the  Potomac  shore.  The  second  regiment 
encampment  was  just  south  of  us  on  the  same  shore,  while  the  camp 
for  rebel  prisoners  was  located  on  the  Chesapeake  shore,  east  of  our 
camp,  and  here  were  placed  the  prisoners  we  brought  with  us  from  the 
front. 

The  next  day,  after  our  arrival,  we  drew  new  clothes  throughout. 
This  was   indeed  a   luxury.  For   a   long   time   what   little  we   had 

had  been  ragged  and  dirty,  and,  worse  than  all,  infested  with  vermin. 
For  several  weeks  a  daily  exercise,  when  time  could  possibly  be  found, 
was  taking  off  our  clothes  and  hunting  for  "greybacks."  Even  with 
this  treatment,  they  continued  so  numerous  they  were  a  constant  annoy- 
ance, especially  at  night,  when  they  greatly  disturbed  our  slumbers. 
Carrying  our  new  clothes  in  a  bundle  at  arms  length  so  they  would 
not  come  in  contact  with  the  old,  we  traveled  to  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  camp,  where  we  shed  the  old  ones,  took  a  good  bath,  donned  the 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    FIVE 


new,  and  traveled  back  to  camp.  If  "clothes  do  not  make  the  man," 
they  certainly  on  this  occasion  made  us  feel  more  like  men  than  we 
were  before. 

The  rebel  prisoners  were  generally  well  satisfied  at  their  lot. 
When  they  landed  I  was  one  of  the  sergeants  of  the  guard  over  them. 
Their  presence  attracted  all  the  men  and  boys  on  the  Point,  who 
crowded  the  guard  so  closely  that  I  was  obliged  to  order  them  back. 
In  doing  this,  I  ordered  one  of  the  Johnnies,  who  was  dressed  in  civilian 
clothes,  to  "get  out  from  among  those  prisoners  and  let  them  alone." 
The  fellow  evidently  did  not  care  for  an  opportunity  to  escape,  and 
hesitated  about  obeying  the  order,  and  the  other  Johnnies  joined  in  a 
laugh  that  told  me  the  mistake  I  was  making,  and  so  I  added,  "I  guess 
you  may  as  well  stay  where  you  are." 

Almost  from  the  moment  the  regiment  broke  ranks  on  the  Point, 
there  was  a  grand  rush  of  the  boys  for  every  scrap  of  board  that  could 
be  utilized  for  a  seat,  a  bunk  or  a  table.  Everything  loose  in  sight 
was  soon  traveling  towards  camp,  and  then  some  made  a  descent  on 
the  board  fence  near  the  Hammond  general  hospital.  The  small  guard 
at  this  point  was  entirely  inadequate  for  its  protection,  and  then  the 
surgeon  in  charge  found  that  he  could  protect  but  a  very  small  area 
at  one  time.  A  few  days  later  not  a  board  was  left  to  his  fence.  A.  W. 
Jewett  at  this  time  was  1st  sergeant  of  Co.  D,  and  I  was  his  tent-mate. 
In  a  little  while  we  had  a  bunk  in  which  to  sleep  and  a  table,  though 
I  do  not  now  remember  where  or  how  we  got  the  material  of  which 
they  were  composed. 

One  source  of  pleasure  at  the  Point  was  the  water,  where  we  could 
bathe  and  sail  and  fish  to  our  hearts  content.  For  a  week  or  two  no 
duty  was  required  of  the  men  except  such  as  was  absolutely  necessary. 

Under  date  of  Aug.  12,  I  find  the  following  entered  in  my  diary. 
"One  year  ago  today  twelve  of  us  boys  enlisted.  Of  that  number, 
Henry  Kidder,  Dan  Nelson,  Luther  Parker,  and  Charles  G.  Smith  are 
dead;  five  have  been  severely  wounded;  and  only  three,  Lon  Jewett, 
Uriah  H.  Kidder,  and  myself,  remain  for  duty.  As  great  a  change  has 
taken  place  throughout  the  regiment.  Oh,  how  many  hearts  are  bleed- 
ing for  lost  ones  slain  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  war,  and  how  many  more 
are  doomed,  God  only  knows." 

On  the  night  of  Aug.  13,  we  were  given  a  taste  of  Point  Lookout 
weather.  There  was  a  very  severe  thunder  storm,  accompanied  by  a 
gale  that  leveled  scores  of  tents.  The  officers'  quarters  suffered  most 
because  their  tents  were  the  larger,  and  the  wind  struck  them  with 
greater  force.  The  morning  presented  a  ludicrous  sight — many  an 
officer  drenched  to  the  skin  was  walking  the  beach  waiting  for  the  day. 

The  camp  for  the  prisoners  of  war  was,  as  before  stated,  on  Chesa- 
peake bay.     Soon  after  our  arrival,  Sergeant  Fellows  of  Co.  H  and  I 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SIX 


were  detailed  for  permanent  duty  in  this  camp,  and  I  continued  there 
for  some  months.  I,  therefore,  had  a  fine  opportunity  to  study  these 
men,  and  I  became  well  acquainted  with  many  of  them,  some  of  whom 
I  esteemed  highly.  Among  the  number  were  some  brother  Masons, 
and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  contribute  to  their  comfort,  and  indeed  to  the 
comfort  of  all  as  well  as  I  could. 


Point  Lookout 

These  men  were  quartered  in  A  tents  like  our  own,  though  they 
were  older  and  as  many  as  could  lie  down  in  them  were  assigned  to 
each,  usually  six.  The  government  allowed  the  same  rations  to  pris- 
oners of  war  as  to  its  own  soldiers,  and  at  first,  there  was  no  "savings" 
from  their  rations  for  any  purpose — there  were  so  few  of  them  that 
this  perhaps  did  not  pay,  at  least  there  was  no  systematic  savings,  and 
if  these  men  did  not  receive  all  the  law  allowed,  it  was  because  there 
was  a  shrinkage  as  it  passed  through  the  hands  of  the  commissary 
department.  This  food  was  prepared  by  cooks  chosen  by  the  men 
themselves,  and  at  first,  apparently,  the  men  were  satisfied  with  their 
allowances. 

Their  tents  were  arranged  in  streets,  with  enough  for  one  hundred 
men  in  a  street.  I  was  at  first  given  charge  of  one  street,  but  as  the 
number  of  men  increased  by  additional  arrivals,  the  number  under 
the  command  or  charge  of  each  sergeant  was  increased  to  five  hundred, 
and  so  I  finally  was  in  command  of  500  Johnnies.  As  the  new  men 
arrived,  it  was  our  duty  to  make  out  a  descriptive  list  of  each,  record- 
ing his  name,  age,  birthplace,  his   company  and  regiment,   and   when 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVEN 


and  where  captured.  Their  signatures  were  required,  and  it  was  sur- 
prising to  a  Northerner  to  find  the  large  number  who  could  not  read 
or  write. 

Each  day  the  men  were  called  into  line  and  responded  to  a  roll 
call,  and  the  policing  and  sanitary  conditions  of  the  grounds  were 
looked  after.  After  a  little,  a  sergeant  of  their  own  number  was  selec- 
ted, who  made  a  daily  detail  for  police  duty  and  had  some  authority 
and  was  held  responsible  for  the  good  order  of  his  street.  He  also 
called  the  roll,  and  I  simply  counted  the  men  as  they  stood  in  line  to 
see  that  all  were  present. 

Large  wall  tents  were  erected  for  the  accommodation  of  their  sick. 
The  regimental  surgeons  visited  this  hospital  at  stated  times,  but  the 
immediate  care  of  the  sick  fell  very  properly  upon  nurses  from  their 
own  ranks. 

At  first  there  was  simply  a  guard  around  their  camp  day  and  night, 
but  very  soon  a  stockade  of  logs  placed  upright  in  the  ground  was 
made,  the  prisoners  being  compelled  to  do  all  the  work.  The  number 
of  prisoners  continued  to  increase  until  they  numbered  ten  thousand. 
Then  a  board  fence,  or  stockade,  was  erected,  To  surround  this  large 
camp  on  three  sides  required  a  fence  about  one  mile  long;  it  was 
twelve  feet  high,  the  boards  being  square  edged  and  placed  close  to- 
gether. About  two  feet  from  the  top  was  a  walk,  on  which  the  guard 
walked  back  and  forth.  The  whole  was  made  strong  enough  to  with- 
stand a  rush  of  the  men  in  the  camp,  if  one  should  be  made. 

In  place  of  cooking  out  doors,  ten  cook  houses  and  mess  houses 
were  erected,  each  to  accommodate  one  thousand  men.  The  cook  houses 
were  provided  with  large  arch  kettles  in  which  to  do  the  cooking  for 
one  thousand  men;  these  cook  houses  being  in  charge  of  details  from 
the  prison  camp.  In  the  mess  rooms  there  were  four  or  five  long 
tables,  at  which  the  men  stood  and  ate  their  meals. 

In  place  of  tents  for  the  hospital  spoken  of  above,  wooden  bar- 
racks were  erected  outside  the  stockade  at  the  north,  and  a  short  dis- 
tance to  the  south,  another  stockade  was  erected  for  the  confinement 
of  commissioned  officers  of  the  rebel  army. 

With  this  general  view  of  the  arrangements  for  the  entertainment 
of  these  men  at  various  stages  of  the  growth  of  the  encampment  while 
we  were  there,  I  will  now  go  back  to  near  the  commencement  of  our 
stay  there  and  take  up  another  line  of  facts  that  will  again  lead  us  to 
speak  of  the  stockade  and  cook  houses. 

Aug.  18,  another  installment  of  five  hundred  Johnnies  reached 
camp,  and  other  sergeants  were  detailed  for  work  in  the  prison,  and 
the  work  of  those  already  detailed  largely  increased.  Among  the  new 
sergeants  detailed  was  Sergt.  Simeon  Swain  of  the  2d  Regt.,  who  after 
the  war  resided  for  many  years  in  New  Hampton.     Most  of  these  new 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHT 


comers  were  North  Carolinians  from  Gen.  Jackson's  old  corps,  and 
this  may  have  accounted  for  the  fact  that  they  were  a  very  religious 
set  of  men.  Though  gambling  was  the  constant  diversion  of  a  large 
number,  the  religious  element  seemed  to  be  stronger  among  these  men 
than  among  other  men  of  the  Confederate  army,  and  stronger  than  in 
our  own  army.  Every  evening  prayer  meetings  were  held  in  the  large 
space  between  the  tents  and  the  cook  houses,  which  were  attended  by 
a  large  proportion  of  the  men,  and  the  fervent  prayers  that  were  offered 
for  the  success  of  their  arms  and  for  the  preservation  of  the  men  in  the 
field  fighting  for  the  right,  as  they  saw  it,  left  no  doubt  that  no  men 
ever  fought  with  more  devotion,  or  a  firmer  belief  in  the  justice  of 
their  cause  than  did  these  men  of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  There 
was  one  man,  a  local  preacher,  well  advanced  in  years,  whose  eloquence 
and  pathos  were  calculated  to  win  all  hearts  as  he  dwelt  on  the  justice 
of  their  cause  and  talked  with  quivering  lips  of  his  four  sons  in  the 
western  army  fighting  for  the  right.  I  was  a  frequent  spectator  at 
these  meetings,  and  I  always  went  away  impressed  with  the  sincerity 
of  these  men.  On  more  than  one  occasion  as  I  traveled  from  the  Rebel 
prison  to  my  own  quarters,  I  could  hear  songs  of  praise  arising  to 
heaven  from  both  the  Rebel  and  Union  soldiers  at  the  same  time. 

I  remember  one  Sunday  evening  in  particular.  The  southern 
moon,  assisted  by  the  starry  hosts  of  heaven,  half  lighted  up  the 
encampment,  disclosing  the  white  tents  of  the  Union  army,  with  its 
sentinels  pacing  to  and  fro,  the  dark  stockade  of  the  rebel  prison,  with 
the  guard  walking  near  the  top,  and  the  cannon  trained  to  deal  instant 
death  and  destruction  should  occasion  demand.  The  refreshing  breeze 
of  the  balmy  evening  fanned  the  brow.  I  stopped  to  take  in  the  scene, 
which  was  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  and  would  have  been  almost 
enchanting,  were  it  not  for  the  work  we  had  in  hand.  From  the  rebel 
prison  and  from  the  Union  encampment  came  songs  of  supplication 
and  praise,  borne  on  the  night  air,  their  strains  mingling  as  they  ascen- 
ded to  heaven,  both  the  Union  and  rebel  hosts  sincerely  worshipping 
the  same  God,  both  believing  in  the  justice  of  their  cause,  and  devoutly 
asking  high  heaven  to  assist  them  to  annihilate  the  other.  These 
incidents  provoked  serious  thought  on  my  part,  and  I  could  but  ask 
myself  the  question,  Why  is  it  that  men  so  earnestly  desirous  to  be  in 
the  right  as  these  men  are,  are  left  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  their  true 
position.  Instead  of  acquiring  any  light,  both  sides  arose  from  their 
knees  more  firmly  resolved  to  fight  for  the  "right"  as  they  saw  it.  They 
became  better  soldiers  thereby,  and  when  they  again  met  in  conflict, 
the  slaughter  was  all  the  more  terrible  because  of  their  faith  and  their 
prayers.  Perhaps  some  theologian  can  explain  all  this,  but  we  have 
never  met  one  who  could.  Fifty  years  after  the  conflict  some  politi- 
cians tell  us  that  both  sides  were  right,  and  perhaps  that  should  satisfy 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINE 


us  for  all  the  sacrifice  made  and  the  blood  spilt  in  this  fratricidal  conflict. 

Soon  after  the  establishment  of  this  camp,  letters  began  to  arrive 
for  these  men  from  Baltimore  or  from  the  south,  via  the  blockade 
runners  through  Baltimore,  and  very  many  of  these  letters  contained 
United  States  money.  This  provided  a  way  by  which  many  could 
obtain  luxuries  of  the  sutlers  at  the  Point,  but  as  they  could  not  leave 
camp  to  make  the  purchases,  the  sergeants  on  duty  were  requested  to 
make  these  purchases  for  them  and  did  so  willingly.  This  trade  grad- 
ually increased,  and  the  sutlers,  quick  to  see  the  advantage  of  capturing 
as  much  as  possible  of  this  trade,  gave  us  a  commission  on  the  trade 
we  brought  them,  and  this  in  time  amounted  to  quite  a  little,  and  much 
of  our  spare  time  was  devoted  to  this  kind  of  work,  while  the  prisoners 
still  got  their  goods  on  the  same  terms  as  our  own  men.  We  were 
thus  able  to  earn  a  dollar  without  wronging  the  Johnnies  a  whit.  But 
this  thing  was  not  long  to  continue,  for  some  one  at  headquarters  had 
discovered  the  value  of  the  trade  with  the  Johnnies,  and  one  day  an 
order  came  for  all  of  the  sergeants  in  charge  to  appear  at  brigade 
headquarters.  We  obeyed  at  once,  when  Adj. -Gen.  Lawrence  addressed 
us,  short,  but  to  the  point,  "I  am  directed  by  General  Marston  to 
say  to  you  that  if  he  catches  one  of  you  fellows  purchasing  any  sup- 
plies for  the  Johnnies  in  the  future,  he  will  not  leave  as  much  as  a 
grease  spot  of  one  of  you."  We  were  thunder  struck.  What  earthly 
objection  could  there  be  to  supplying  these  men  with  luxuries  that 
they  paid  for!  But  it  was  unmilitary  for  us  to  reply  or  even  to  ask  a 
question.  We  had  simply  to  obey.  The  answer  came  next  day.  Then 
a  sutler's  stand  was  erected  outside  the  stockade  with  an  opening  into 
the  prison,  where  the  Johnnies  could  spend  all  the  money  they  had  and 
be  obliged  to  pay  such  a  price  as  this  sutler's  conscience  would  allow 
him  to  impose  without  any  fear  of  competition.  Another  thing,  all 
the  letters  addressed  to  the  Johnnies  were  now  examined  by  the  clerks 
at  headquarters,  and  all  money  they  contained  was  held  back  under  the 
plea  that  they  might  use  it  to  bribe  the  guard,  and  an  equal  amount 
in  checks  was  substituted,  which  checks  were  only  of  use  in  purchas- 
ing goods  of  this  particular  sutler  at  his  own  price. 

All  letters  that  arrived  for  the  prisoners  from  Baltimore  and 
other  places  and  all  letters  written  in  camp  were  carefully  read.  When- 
ever these  letters  contained  anything  objectionable,  either  in  the  way 
of  disloyal  sentiment,  giving  improper  information,  or  complaining  of 
the  situation,  they  were  destroyed.  It  generally  happened  that  those 
going  in  contained  a  stamp  for  a  reply,  sometimes  quite  a  number,  and 
those  coming  out  had  uncancelled  stamps  on  the  envelopes.  All  stamps 
on  objectionable  letters  became  the  property  of  the  clerk  destroying 
the  letters.  The  stamps  taken  from  the  envelopes  were  regummed 
and  loose  stamps  substituted  for  sheets  going  in,  and  so  the  clerks  had 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    TEN 


stamps  in  fit  condition  for  sale.  This  supervision  of  the  mail  was 
necessary,  but  whether  there  was  any  abuse  of  the  practice  is  left  for 
those  with  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  to  judge. 

Another  source  of  income  the  Johnnies  had  was  the  making  of 
trinkets  for  sale  to  the  Union  soldiers  and  visitors.  They  made  a  large 
number  of  rings  from  bones  obtained  at  the  cook  houses,  and  fancy 
fans  made  from  one  straight  piece  of  wood,  steamed,  and  then  cut  and 
bent  to  the  shape  desired  and  tied  in  position  by  ribbon  purchased  of 
the  sutler.  Some  of  these  were  decidedly  artistic  and  brought  good 
prices.  The  sergeants  often  bought  these  trinkets  outright  and  sold 
them  among  the  Union  soldiers,  or  sold  them  on  commission,  and 
among  all  the  trade  of  this  kind  I  always  noticed  the  same  scrupulous 
honesty  and  square  dealing  between  the  men  of  the  two  armies  as  be- 
tween men  in  our  own  army.  Indeed  the  poor  fellows  shut  up  in  that 
prison  pen  were  objects  of  pity  to  many  a  Union  soldier.  There  was 
no  ill  will  between  the  rank  and  file  of  the  two  armies. 

We  have  elsewhere  stated  that  the  government  allowed  prisoners 
of  war  the  same  rations  as  men  in  its  own  army.  This  was  true,  but 
a  full  ration  did  not  reach  these  men  except  during  a  short  time  after 
the  camp  was  first  opened.  The  government  fixed  the  price  of  the 
ration  at  so  much  per  day,  at  this  time  at  thirty  cents  or  nine  dollars  per 
month,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  and  any  company  in  the  Union  army  could 
drav,  a  part  of  the  rations  in  money  if  it  so  chose  and  thus  create  a 
company  fund  with  which  to  purchase  delicacies  not  provided  by  the 
commissary.  The  same  rule  applied  to  prisoners  of  war,  and  at  Point 
Lookout  it  was  commonly  reported,  and  generally  believed,  that  the 
Johnnies  themselves  paid  for  all  the  luxuries  that  they  enjoyed,  such 
as  a  high  stockade,  cook  houses  and  mess  houses,  hospitals,  etc.,  as 
extensive  and  costly  as  they  were,  though  they  could  not  be  eaten.  In 
other  words  the  savings  from  their  rations,  or  from  thirty  cents  per 
day,  paid  all  these  bills.  Such  a  cut  was  enough  to  reduce  the  food  to 
the  lowest  amount  for  each  man,  and  even  if  the  commissary  was  scru- 
pulously honest  and  intended  to  issue  the  full  amount  to  which  the 
Johnnies  were  entitled  after  the  cut,  the  details  of  the  work  must  be 
executed  by  subordinates,  and  there  may  have  been  instances  where 
the  Johnnies  did  not  get  all  they  were  entitled  to,  even  at  this  stage  of 
the  game. 

However  this  may  be,  it  was  very  evident  that  there  was  a  further 
shrinkage  after  the  food  reached  the  prison  camp  before  it  reached  the 
men.  The  prisoners  of  war  in  charge  of  the  cook  houses  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  live  high  and  see  that  their  friends  lived  well,  for  there  was  no 
one  to  call  them  to  account  or  had  sufficient  interest  to  call  them  to 
account,  even  if  they  had  authority;  and  so  at  the  final  division  the 
amount  was  extremely  small  for  each  man.     Meals  were  served  twice 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    ELEVEN 


a  day — at  about  9  o'clock  a.  m.  and  4  p.  m.  On  the  tin  plates,  arranged 
on  the  tables,  were  placed  the  small  pieces  of  boiled  pork,  or  cornbeef, 
beans  and  hard  tack  as  the  case  might  be,  and  when  all  was  ready, 
the  rebel  sergeants  in  charge  marched  their  men  in  single  file  on  each 
side  of  the  table,  gave  the  command,  "Halt!  Inward  face!"  when  each 
man  faced  his  plate  and  devoured  his  meal  without  further  ceremony; 
but  here  again  there  was  a  frequent  shrinkage.  The  strong,  as  they 
passed  along,  would  sometimes  grab  from  a  plate  the  ration  that  be- 
longed to  another,  and  many  a  poor  fellow  as  he  inward  faced  found 
little  or  nothing  on  the  plate  before  him.  This  state  of  affairs  led  to 
frequent  fights,  sometimes  attended  with  fatal  results.  One  night  a 
raid  was  made  by  dissatisfied  and  hungry  men  on  one  of  the  cook 
houses,  and  a  hatchet  thrown  by  one  of  the  cooks  buried  itself  in  the 
breast  of  one  of  the  attacking  party,  killing  him  instantly. 

Treatment  of  Prisoners 

Human  nature  was  the  same  in  the  North  as  in  the  South,  and 
those  who  suppose  that  prisoners  of  war  from  the  Southern  army  were 
invariably  treated  well,  would  probably  revise  their  opinion,  could  they 
know  the  full  and  truthful  history  of  what  the  southern  soldiers  suffered 
in  Northern  prisons.  That  many  in  this  prison  knew  what  the  cravings 
of  hunger  were,  there  could  be  no  doubt  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
could  see  the  true  condition  of  affairs.  As  cold  weather  came  on,  there 
was  much  suffering  on  account  of  the  cold.  That  could  hardly  be 
otherwise  under  the  circumstances.  These  men,  or  most  of  them,  when 
captured  were  clothed  for  summer  service  in  the  field,  and  their  cloth- 
ing was  of  the  scantiest.  By  the  time  cold  weather  came,  there  were 
ten  thousand  of  these  men  in  this  prison,  and  to  have  clothed,  nursed 
and  fed  all  these  as  humanity  demanded  would  have  cost  a  very  large 
sum  and  have  made  this  prison  pen  a  sort  of  sanitarium  for  the  rebel 
army,  where  the  men  could  rest  and  recuperate,  and  when  exchanged, 
return  to  their  southern  service  stronger  and  better  clothed  than  when 
they  came.     Still  the  most  destitute  were  relieved. 

On  the  24th  of  September,  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  some  clothing 
for  the  most  needy  of  my  five  hundred  men,  and  my  diary  says  I 
issued  that  day  twenty  pairs  of  pants,  forty  pairs  of  shoes,  five  coats, 
and  ten  blankets.  The  shoes  were  supplied  only  to  those  who  had 
none.  Details  of  the  prisoners  were  allowed  to  go  out  daily  and  cut 
wood  in  the  neighboring  forest,  and  the  immense  loads  that  these  fel- 
lows would  "tote"  into  camp  on  their  backs  was  the  marvel  of  all  who 
saw  them.  But  it  took  a  large  amount  of  wood  to  warm  ten  thousand 
men  in  the  open  air,  and  the  number  allowed  to  go  into  the  woods  each 
day  was  very  small  for  prudential  reasons. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    TWELVE 


That  Northern  men  in  Southern  prisons  were  treated  worse  than 
Southern  men  in  the  prisons  of  the  North,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  As 
a  result,  when  exchanged,  soldiers  from  the  South  were  ready  for 
active  service  in  the  field,  while  Northern  men  were  so  debilitated  by 
their  confinement  that  they  were  sent  to  their  homes  or  the  hospitals 
to  recuperate.  This  condition  grew  worse  as  the  war  progressed,  in 
part  perhaps  owing  to  the  utter  inability  of  the  South  to  properly 
feed  the  thousands  of  men  in  their  hands  as  prisoners  of  war.  At  one 
time  there  were  fifty  thousand  Southern  men  held  by  the  government 
in  Northern  prisons.  To  have  exchanged  these  men  for  fifty  thousand 
enfeebled  Union  soldiers  would  have  meant  a  re-enforcement  of  fifty 
thousand  men  to  the  ranks  of  those  fighting  against  the  government — 
enough  perhaps  to  have  prolonged  the  war.  Those  who  berate  the 
government  for  declining  an  exchange  and  thus  allowing  so  many  of 
our  soldiers  to  die  of  starvation  in  rebel  prisons  should  take  these  facts 
into  account.  The  government  was  not  seeking  to  save  the  lives  of 
men,  but  the  life  of  the  nation,  and  for  every  thousand  saved  by  an 
exchange,  another  thousand  might  have  fallen  in  battle. 

So  then  there  seemed  to  be  some  apology  for  some  things  that 
happened  or  existed;  in  other  cases  there  was  none,  of  which  the  fol- 
lowing is  a  case  in  point. 

On  one  occasion  a  sentinel  reported  to  the  officer  of  the  day  that 
a  prisoner  had  attempted  to  bribe  him  to  allow  him  and  others  to 
escape.  The  sentinel  was  instructed  to  accept  the  bribe  and  to  arrange 
to  let  the  party  out  of  the  stockade,  at  a  certain  hour  that  night.  This 
was  done,  and  the  party,  five  in  number,  passed  out  of  the  stockade. 
They  had  proceeded  but  a  few  rods  when  their  suspicions  were  aroused 
that  the  coast  was  not  clear,  and  they  started  to  return,  when  an  armed 
party  lying  in  wait  fired  upon  them  without  even  demanding  their 
surrender.  One  was  killed  and  others  were  wounded.  The  officer  in 
command,  a  one-armed  captain  of  the  2d  regiment,  was  said  to  have 
actually  shot  one  man  twice  after  he  had  surrendered,  remarking,  "This 
is  in  exchange  for  the  loss  of  my  arm."  One  of  the  wounded  men, 
while  in  the  hospital,  stated  to  the  writer  that  he  was  wounded  after 
he  surrendered.  It  is  but  justice  to  the  Union  soldiers  doing  guard 
duty  at  the  Point  to  add  that  this  transaction  was  universally  con- 
demned. 

As  was  to  be  expected  there  were  frequent  attempts  to  escape,  but 
only  a  very  few  were  successful.  Occasionally  some  of  the  wood  party 
would  secrete  themselves  in  the  woods,  hoping  at  night  to  emerge 
from  their  hiding  places  and  escape.  Such  generally  found  themselves 
surrounded  by  cavalry  when  they  attempted  to  travel  toward  liberty. 
At  one  time  a  tent  was  erected  on  the  parade  ground  in  the  prison, 
nearer  the  fence  than  the  rest,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  making 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    THIRTEEN 


brick.  This  finally  excited  suspicion,  when  it  was  found  that  this  tent 
covered  the  entrance  to  a  tunnel  that  had  been  constructed  half  way 
to  the  fence.  On  another  occasion  all  the  Johnnies  were  paraded,  and 
while  in  line,  their  quarters  were  examined.  Among  the  contraband 
articles  found  were  two  or  three  muskets,  several  oars,  and  boards 
shaped  to  be  put  together  for  a  boat. 

On  one  occasion,  while  the  men  were  bathing,  I  went  to  the  beach 
which  formed  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  prison.  I  noticed  a  barrel 
floating  en  the  water  out  in  the  bay.  I  had  given  it  only  a  casual  look, 
when  close  at  hand  a  fight  commenced  among  the  prisoners.  It 
assumed  such  proportions  that  I  called  on  the  guard  to  quell  it.  When 
all  was  over,  I  noticed  there  were  no  broken  heads  among  the  men, 
and  no  knives  were  used  as  was  usual  at  such  times,  and  learned  that 
night  at  rollcall  that  that  fight  was  a  bogus  affair.  It  was  put  up  to 
attract  my  attention  from  the  barrel,  because  on  the  other  side  of  the 
barrel  was  a  Johnnie  floating  or  swimming  to  liberty.  He  worked 
the  barrel  out  into  the  bay  and  then  to  shore  a  long  way  from  the 
stockade  and  escaped,  or  was  drowned,  I  never  knew  which. 

To  enforce  discipline,  tying  up  by  the  wrists  was  sometimes  re- 
sorted to.  This  was  a  very  painful  operation  and  was  sometimes  re- 
sorted to  in  our  army  but  only  in  extreme  cases.  A  rope  was  tied 
about  the  wrists  and  drawn  so  tight  over  a  high  support  that  a  large 
part  of  the  weight  of  the  body  was  sustained  by  the  rope.  This  soon 
produced  excruciating  pain,  and  if  long  continued  was  almost  unbear- 
able. It  was  said  that  a  complaint  by  reason  of  this  practice  was 
lodged  with  the  Confederate  government,  and  that  correspondence  over 
the  matter  was  carried  on  with  the  Washington  government.  It  was 
reported  that  inquiries  concerning  the  facts  came  to  the  Point  from 
Washington,  but  they  amounted  to  nothing. 

On  one  occasion  Sergt.  Young,  of  the  2d  Regt.,  had  some  trouble 
with  a  rebel  officer  in  the  officers'  quarters,  and  shot  him  dead.  The 
sergeant  claimed  that  the  officer  had  insulted  him.  The  provocation 
was  evidently  considered  sufficient  at  headquarters  to  justify  the  act, 
for  the  sergeant  was  soon  after  given  a  commission. 

In  the  spring  of  1864,  a  colored  regiment  came  to  the  Point  for 
duty.  To  be  guarded  by  their  late  slaves  must  have  been  the  height  of 
humiliation,  especially  to  the  officers.  On  one  occasion  one  of  these 
officers  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  commissary  under  guard  of  a  colored 
soldier,  to  buy  some  supplies.  The  officer  did  not  seem  to  comprehend 
changed  conditions,  and,  the  supplies  being  purchased,  he  ordered  the 
black  man  as  of  yore  to  carry  his  bundle.  The  negro  stood  on  his 
dignity  and  refused.  High  words  ensued,  and  the  difficulty  was  soon 
ended  by  the  negro  shooting  the  officer  dead  in  his  tracks. 

Fears  of  an  uprising  among  the  prisoners  were  at  different  times 


PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED   FOURTEEN 


entertained.  To  meet  such  an  emergency  a  section  of  artillery  was 
planted  opposite  the  main  entrance,  loaded  with  grape  and  canister 
ready  for  instant  use.  With  ten  desperate  men,  though  unarmed,  as 
compared  with  one  armed  man  as  guard,  the  chances  of  success  were 
not  so  remote  but  that  it  almost  seems  a  wonder  the  attempt  was  not 
made.  The  difficulty  of  reaching  Virginia  even  if  the  guard  were  over- 
powered probably  prevented  the  attempt.  It  is  now  known  that  when 
Gen.  Stuart  made  his  descent  on  Washington  in  1864,  he  included  in 
his  program  the  release  of  the  prisoners  of  war  at  Point  Lookout. 

During  the  winter  small-pox  prevailed  in  the  prisoners'  camp.  Dr. 
Wm.  Child  of  the  5th  Regt.,  who  after  the  war  resided  for  several 
years  in  New  Hampton,  diagnosed  all  the  cases  in  camp  as  fast  as 
they  appeared,  and  then  the  men  were  removed  to  the  small-pox  hos- 
pital near  by,  under  charge  of  Dr.  Samuel  P.  Carbee  of  the  12th  Regt., 
later  of  Haverhill.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  men  were  hud- 
dled so  closely  together,  the  disease  was  soon  stamped  out,  and  no 
great  mortality  prevailed  at  any  time.  My  duties  required  me  to  come 
in  contact  with  the  disease  daily.  I  could  not  avoid  it,  and  therefore 
concluded  not  to  fear  it  and  I  did  not  contract  the  disease. 

My  duties  in  the  camp  had  hardly  commenced  ere  some  of  the 
prisoners  indicated  a  desire  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance.  I  reported 
the  facts  to  Brigade  headquarters,  and  the  matter  was  referred  to  Wash- 
ington. The  result  was  that  printed  blanks  were  sent  us,  on  which 
were  a  series  of  questions  which  we  were  to  ask  those  desiring  to  take 
the  oath.  Their  answers  were  written  on  the  blanks,  and  these  were 
sent  to  Washington,  and  the  application  was  approved  or  rejected,  as 
seemed  wise  to  the  clerk  or  officer  inspecting  them.  This  procedure 
amounted  to  but  little,  as  there  was  no  way  of  determining  whether 
the  applicant  was  telling  the  truth  or  a  falsehood.  At  first  many  who 
took  the  oath  went  North  as  they  were  allowed  to  do,  but  later  most 
remained  in  quarters  arranged  for  them  with  the  expectation  of  their 
enlisting  in  the  United  States  service.  Enough  of  these  men  enlisted 
to  form  two  regiments,  which  were  largely  officered  by  men  from  the 
2d,  5th  and  12th  Regiments.  It  was  in  one  of  these  regiments  that  I 
served  later  as  first  lieutenant  and  captain. 

The  men  who  thus  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  were  of  various 
makeups.  Some  took  the  oath  as  a  stepping  stone  to  a  return  South 
to  re-enter  the  Southern  army;  a  goodly  number  claimed  to  be  Union 
men,  who  were  forced  into  the  Southern  army,  men  from  the  hill 
country  of  North  Carolina  composing  the  bulk  of  this  class.  These 
men  made  the  best  soldiers  of  any  entering  the  Union  army  from  the 
prison  pen.  Then  there  were  foreigners  who  cared  nothing  for  either 
side  and  sought  only  to  improve  their  condition,  many  deserting  at  a 
later  date.     There  were  some  bright,  keen  men  among  those  who  took 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    FIFTEEN 


the  oath  and  enlisted,  men  having  a  fair  education;  but  about  one-half 
could  neither  read  nor  write. 

I  have  previously  stated  that  there  were  only  sixty-six  muskets  in 
the  12th  Regt.  when  it  reached  the  Point.  A  large  number  of  men, 
sick  or  wounded,  were  in  various  hospitals,  or  on  furloughs,  and  these 
gradually  returned,  slowly  increasing  our  numbers. 

Among  the  first  to  arrive  were  George  C.  Currier  and  others  of 
the  drum  corps,  who  had  been  doing  duty  in  the  hospitals  at  Gettys- 
burg since  the  battle  there.  The  sixth  of  September,  came  a  goodly 
number  of  those  who  had  been  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  among 
them  Louis  Rowe,  who  brought  with  him  the  overcoat  I  placed  over 
him  after  finding  him,  as  previously  mentioned  in  my  account  of  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville;  Port  Hall,  and  Albert  Nelson.  Louis  Rowe's 
wounds  entitled  him  to  a  discharge,  but  he  declined  it,  preferring  to 
return  to  the  regiment.  As  it  was  still  difficult  for  him  to  carry  a  gun, 
I  requested  that  he  be  given  a  position  similar  to  my  own  in  the  rebel 
pen,  and  this  was  done.  A  few  days  later  came  Warren  Tucker  and 
others,  who  were  also  wounded  at  Chancellorsville. 

As  the  fall  wore  away,  preparations  for  winter  were  made.  The 
boys  raised  the  tents  from  the  ground,  in  some  cases  several  feet,  with 
wood  underneath  and  built  fireplaces,  of  wood  and  mud,  with  a  chim- 
ney of  the  same  material  outside,  in  true  Virginia  style.  A  board  floor 
was  placed  in  the  large  tent  used  for  a  chapel,  and  seats  were  pro- 
cured, and  the  Free  Masons  of  the  several  regiments  belonging  in  New 
Hampshire  secured  a  traveling  dispensation,  organized  and  erected  a 
hall  of  wood,  and  did  a  flourishing  business  in  "raising"  Masons. 

On  the  thirteenth  of  November  the  5th  Regt.,  which  had  been  to 
New  Hampshire,  reached  the  Point.  Its  ranks  were  largely  recruited 
with  substitutes,  and  about  this  time,  or  soon  after,  a  goodly  number 
of  recruits  or  substitutes  reached  the  Point  for  the  12th  and  2d  Regi- 
ments. This  was  the  beginning  of  trouble  for  the  veterans.  Previous 
to  this  all  the  soldiers  had  enjoyed  the  greatest  liberty  consistent  with 
their  duties.  They  could  take  a  boat  and  fish  in  the  waters  of  the 
river  or  the  bay,  or  they  could  stroll  into  the  country  as  far  as  inclina- 
tion prompted  and  duty  allowed.  But  when  these  fellows  came,  all 
these  things  were  changed.  Large  numbers  had  deserted  en  route  to 
their  destination,  and  every  precaution  was  necessary  against  the  deser- 
tion of  those  that  reached  Point  Lookout;  so  a  strong  guard  was  placed 
across  the  Point,  and  no  one  was  allowed  to  go  into  the  country,  or  use 
a  boat,  without  a  written  pass,  and  finally  nearly  all  boats  were  de- 
stroyed. These  men  had  plenty  of  money  and  spent  it  recklessly. 
They  were  known  to  pay  as  high  as  twenty  dollars  for  a  canteen  of 
whisky.  One  man  paid  twenty  dollars  for  a  canteen  filled  with  water 
but  wet  about  the  outside  and  stopple  with  whisky.     He  was  told  not 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SIXTEEN 


to  drink  any  till  he  reached  a  secluded  spot.  Then  he  discovered  the 
trick.  They  were  a  reckless  and  desperate  class  of  men,  and  extreme 
measures  were  needed  to  bring  them  under  proper  discipline.  One 
night  one  of  these  men  stole  a  coffin  from  the  carpenter's  shop,  used 
it  for  a  boat,  and  escaped,  but  it  was  never  known  whether  the  coffin 
conveyed  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  Potomac  or  to  freedom. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  October,  I  was  detailed  as  sergeant  of  the 
provost  guard  at  brigade  headquarters,  under  Capt.  J  N.  Patterson, 
provost  marshal.  Although  this  was  in  the  nature  of  a  promotion,  I 
obeyed  the  order  with  some  misgivings.  I  found  I  had  really  become 
interested  in  my  men  in  the  rebel  prison,  and  I  left  them  with  many 
regrets.  I  spent  many  social  hours  in  the  company  of  the  prisoners, 
and  learned  the  unwritten  work  of  Masonry  from  them. 

The  duties  of  my  new  position  were  various.  I  had  charge  of  all 
those  soldiers  in  confinement  or  in  arrest  for  various  offences.  Ref- 
ugees were  constantly  arriving  from  the  Virginia  shore,  and  these  I 
had  to  care  for,  and  blockade  runners  arrested  were  turned  over  to  me. 
Then  I  visited  the  dock  on  the  arrival  of  every  boat  and  examined  all 
freight  or  express  matter  for  the  enlisted  men,  to  see  that  no  liquors,  or 
other  contraband  articles,  reached  these  men.  Many  a  box  of  goodies 
for  the  men  contained  tin  cans  labeled  maple  syrup  or  preserves  went 
into  the  dock,  much  as  I  disliked  to  deprive  the  boys  of  a  smile. 

The  refugees  were  composed  of  men  and  even  families  escaping 
from  the  South  to  the  North,  and  others,  largely  Jews,  who  had  visited 
the  South  carrying  contraband  goods,  and  who  then  desired  to  reach 
the  North  to  repeat  the  same  operations.  Others  were  arrested  as 
spies.  All  these  had  to  be  cared  for  and  detained  under  guard  till 
their  cases  were  disposed  of.  I  served  under  Lieut.  Rufus  L.  Bean  of 
the  2d  Regt. 

When  I  first  assumed  the  duties  of  this  position  I  found  thirty- 
seven  Union  soldiers  in  the  guard  house.  Some  had  been  arrested  for 
trivial  offenses,  and  there  they  had  been  allowed  to  remain  week  after 
week  with  no  charges  preferred  against  them,  instead  of  being  released 
the  next  day  as  regulations  of  the  army  required.  I  sent  to  head- 
quarters a  list  of  such  as  I  thought  ought  to  be  released,  and  was 
authorized  to  discharge  eleven  such  men  at  once,  and  others  were 
released  soon  after.  One  of  these  men  had  been  in  confinement  eight 
weeks  without  charges. 

At  headquarters  I  had  a  room  in  one  of  the  summer  cottages  near 
the  hotel,  where  Gen.  Marston  had  his  headquarters,  and  I  messed 
with  a  company  of  perhaps  a  dozen  clerks  and  others  connected  with 
headquarters,  and  a  rebel  prisoner,  to  whom  Capt.  Patterson  had  taken 
a  fancy  and  allowed  his  liberty  on  his  parole.  This  man  was  from 
New  Orleans,  a  soldier  in   the  organization   known   as   the   Louisiana 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTEEN 


Tigers.  He  shed  his  rebel  rags  and  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  as  he 
really  was;  and  at  one  time,  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  favors  ex- 
tended to  him,  he  had  shipped  from  New  Orleans  a  large  quantity  of 
oranges,  which  were  much  enjoyed  by  all  at  Headquarters.  The  cook- 
ing for  our  mess  was  done  by  three  negro  women,  and,  as  was  com- 
monly remarked  at  the  time,  "  we  lived  like  white  folks." 

On  Christmas  day  I  took  a  horseback  ride  "into  the  country,"  as  we 
called  it,  that  is,  we  visited  some  of  the  plantations  a  few  miles  from 
the  Point.  On  this  trip  we  rapped  at  the  door  of  a  planter's  house, 
when  a  voice  answered,  "Come  in,"  and  we  entered.  The  woman  of 
the  house  was  holding  in  her  lap  a  boy  of  perhaps  eight  years  of  age, 
and  she  apologized  for  not  opening  the  door,  because  she  was  obliged 
to  hold  her  son,  and  the  reason  of  this  was  that  he  was  so  drunk  he 
could  not  stand.  Then  she  added  laughing,  "Johnnie  does  not  get 
drunk  but  once  a  year  and  that  is  at  Christmas."  This  incident  illus- 
trates the  habits  of  many  Marylanders  at  that  time.  Every  planter 
kept  whisky  on  hand  as  common  as  our  farmers  have  ever  kept  cider. 

In  November  I  went  to  Washington  with  a  blockade  runner  by 
the  name  of  Hayden.  Dr.  Fowler  took  the  same  boat  for  home  on  a 
furlough,  and  Benjamin  Saunders  for  home  on  his  discharge  so  I  had 
the  company  of  both  of  them  as  far  as  Washington.  I  turned  my  man 
over  to  the  Provost  Marshal  at  Washington,  and  by  the  New  York 
Herald  I  noticed  a  few  days  later  that  my  man  Hayden  had  been  com- 
mitted to  the  Old  Capital  prison. 

November  22,  a  detail  of  forty  men  and  two  officers  were  sent  to 
St.  George's  Island  to  capture  a  band  of  rebels  and  blockade  runners 
said  to  be  located  there.  They  were  accompanied  by  a  gun  boat  of 
the  Potomac  flotilla.  They  returned  the  next  day  with  thirty  blockade 
runners,  refugees  and  deserters  from  the  rebel  army.  Among  the 
number  were  three  who  were  prisoners  at  the  Point  two  weeks  before, 
refugees  from  Virginia,  who  were  given  passes  to  go  to  the  very  place 
where  they  were  arrested.  I  provided  them  with  rations  and  blankets, 
and  put  over  them  an  extra  guard  of  ten  cavalrymen  and  left  them  for 
the  night. 

On  the  25th,  twelve  men,  a  woman  and  a  child  arrived  from  the  Vir- 
ginia shore.  Eight  were  escaped  prisoners  of  war  from  Richmond, 
the  remainder  refugees,  so  I  then  had  at  that  time  a  motley  crowd  of 
fifty-six  men  under  my  charge. 

That  evening  I  attended  a  Masonic  meeting  and  banquet  at  the 
so-called  Masonic  temple.  We  had  a  menu  consisting  of  goose,  turkey, 
duck,  oysters,  etc.  This  was  followed  by  speaking  by  Rev.  Capt. 
Durgin  and  others.  The  topic  of  conversation  was  news  from  the 
front,  the  fighting  at  Chattanooga,  of  Meade's  advance,  and  Hooker 
fighting  above  the  clouds  at  Lookout  Mountain. 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTEEN 


November  30,  I  arrested  a  man  by  the  name  of  Weiner  from  Bal- 
timore. He  had  come  here  from  that  city  on  a  pass,  and  then  had 
given  his  pass  to  a  rebel  prisoner,  who  was  outside  the  stockade,  to 
enable  him  to  escape.  He  was  extremely  indignant  at  his  arrest,  but 
I  confined  him  in  the  guard  house. 

On  the  first  of  December  a  detail  was  sent  from  the  12th  Regiment 
to  Concord  to  recruit,  among  the  number  being  Sergt.  Kidder  of 
Bristol. 

December  5,  the  steamer  Key  Port  arrived  bringing  a  lot  of  boxes 
for  the  men  from  home.  I  got  a  box  containing  clothes,  books,  and 
eatables — small  but  choice.  It  was  my  duty  to  open  the  boxes  for  the 
enlisted  men.  All  the  intoxicating  liquor  found  in  them  was  thrown 
into  the  dock. 

December  11  a  clerk  in  the  dispensary — not  an  enlisted  man — was 
drummed  out  of  camp  for  selling  liquor  to  an  enlisted  man.  This  was 
Gen.  Marston's  way  of  punishing  the  man. 

On  the  14th  of  December  Capt.  Patterson  got  information  that  a 
soldier  was  intending  to  steal  a  boat  lying  near  headquarters  and 
desert  that  night.  Not  wishing  to  take  his  chances  with  an  ordinary 
detail,  he  requested  two  of  the  clerks  at  headquarters  and  me  to  stand 
guard  and  we  consented.  We  were  to  secrete  ourselves  behind  bales 
of  hay  near  by  and  our  orders  were  to  fire  without  a  challenge  on  who- 
ever got  into  the  boat.  About  2  o'clock  the  soldier  arrived,  and  placed 
a  sail  in  the  boat  and  prepared  to  embark.  At  that  point  the  guard, 
one  of  the  clerks,  arrested  him,  instead  of  firing  as  ordered,  his  courage 
having  failed  him.  He  was  turned  over  to  Capt.  Patterson,  who  hand- 
cuffed him.  In  the  morning  Capt.  Patterson  ordered  me  to  tie  the 
captured  man  up  by  the  wrists  which  I  did.  I  did  not  draw  the  rope 
tight  enough  to  suit  Capt.  Patterson,  so  he  took  a  shovel  and  removed 
some  of  the  earth  from  under  the  fellow's  feet,  mounted  his  horse  and 
drove  off,  leaving  orders  that  the  fellow  be  left  there  till  he  returned. 
Hour  after  hour  passed  and  the  agony  of  the  victim  became  terrible. 
He  begged  me  to  shoot  him  or  kill  him  in  any  way  rather  than  let  him 
suffer  longer.  Finally  I  took  the  shovel  and  crowded  some  earth  under 
his  feet  to  relieve  him  in  part,  despite  the  remarks  of  onlookers  that  I 
would  catch  Hell  for  doing  it.  After  six  hours  of  suffering  the  cap- 
tain returned  and  cut  him  down.  It  was  hoped  that  such  treatment 
would  tend  to  lessen  desertions,  which  were  very  frequent  among  the 
new  recruits,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  bounty  jumpers  and  substitutes. 

A  few  months  later  a  man  of  the  5th  Regiment  was  executed  for 
desertion. 

On  Monday  morning,  May  9th  inst.,  at  eight  o'clock,  in  accordance 
with  General  Orders  No.  IS,  the  troops  of  this  command  were  marched 
to  the  open  field  opposite  the  grove,  and  formed  three  sides  of  a  hol- 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED     NINETEEN 


low  square,  to  witness  the  execution  of  Henry  A.  Burnham,  Company 
E,  Fifth  New  Hampshire  Volunteers.  At  twenty  minutes  of  eight 
o'clock  the  prisoner,  escorted  by  a  detachment  of  twelve  men  of  the 
provost  guard,  arrived  upon  the  ground.  After  taking  a  position  he 
was  asked  by  Lieutenant  Hilliard  if  he  had  anything  to  say,  when  he 
expressed  himself  as  follows: — 

A  Deserter's  Confession 

"My  friends: — The  time  has  come  when  I  must  die.  I  am  willing 
to  die  and  leave  this  world  of  sorrow.  There  is  but  one  step  between 
me  and  eternity,  and  I  feel  as  if  it  were  my  duty  to  acknowledge  that 
it  is  for  a  beloved  country's  good  that  I  should  die  at  the  time  appoin- 
ted. I  have  forgiven  all  my  friends  in  the  Fifth  New  Hampshire  Regi- 
ment. I  have  forgiven  all  who  have  ever  done  me  wrong  or  injured 
me,  and  I  hope  to  be  forgiven  by  all  to  whom  I  have  ever  done  an  in- 
jury. 

"Beloved  friends, — I  can  address  you  as  friends,  for  you  have  acted 
as  such  to  me — it  is  necessary  that  we  should  all  be  prepared  for  death 
since  we  must  all  die.  I  admit  that  I  am  a  sinner.  I  have  not  acted 
manly  to  the  government  that  I  have  defrauded,  not  only  once,  or 
twice,  but  many  times,  and  I  now  feel  that  I  have  done  a  serious 
wrong.  My  advice  to  you  is,  do  your  duty  to  your  country,  faithfully 
and  well.  Be  true  to  the  oath  which  you  have  taken,  and  you  will  feel 
better  in  your  own  heart.  I  do  not  see  that  in  any  other  case  you  can 
do  better.  The  only  source  of  happiness  in  this  world  springs  from 
doing  your  duty  to  your  country  and  your  God,  and  unless  you  serve 
them  faithfully  you  cannot  experience  true  enjoyment  of  mind.  I 
would  also  say  to  you,  that  you  have  taken  the  oath  to  obey  your 
superiors;  so  have  I,  and  I  now  know  the  advantage  which  would 
arise  from  that  obedience.  It  is  only  since  I  received  my  sentence 
that  I  have  realized  the  full  enormity  of  my  errors;  you  should  do  so 
whilst  you  have  yet  time.  Furthermore  my  advice  to  you  in  the  future 
is  to  attend  to  your  duty,  as  you  owe  it  to  yourselves  and  the  country  to 
defend  her. 

"I  hope  if  there  is  any  one  here  who  may  have  any  hard  feelings 
towards  me,  that  he  will  forgive  me  as  I  have  forgiven  everyone  who 
has  ever  done  me  an  injury.  You  can  all  better  your  country  far  more 
by  obeying  the  laws  which  govern  you,  and  it  is  the  last  hope  and 
prayer  of  a  dying  man  that  you  will  endeavor  to  do  so.  There  is  but 
one  step  between  me  and  eternity,  and  in  my  case  it  is  a  solemn  thing. 
It  is  solemn  and  sad,  indeed,  to  stand  by  the  bedside  and  watch  the 
spirit  of  the  dear  friend  we  love  taking  its  flight  from  the  world;  but 
if  that  be  solemn,  how  much  more  solemn  must  it  be  to  a  dear  friend 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  TWENTY 


of  mine,  to  see  me  depart  in  such  a  way  as  this,  with  an  offended  law 
taking  justice  upon  me.  I  die  today,  and  it  may  be  better  that  I  should 
do  so;  as,  although  I  may  have  wished  that  a  little  longer  time  had 
been  extended  to  me  to  prepare  for  so  awful  a  fate,  still  I  may  not  be 
any  better  for  it.  I  may  be  putting  off  repentance  to  the  last  moment, 
and  then  what  would  I  have  gained  by  the  delay?  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
were  prepared  to  die — as  if  I  am  prepared  to  meet  my  God.  I  have 
placed  my  whole  trust  in  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  who  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners.  This  has  been  the  only  subject  of  my 
reflections  since  the  moment  I  received  my  sentence.  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
do  a  great  deal  of  good  for  myself  in  this  world,  if  I  could  only  live, 
after  the  feelings  which  have  taken  possession  of  me  within  the  last 
few  days.  But  notwithstanding,  I  feel  that  it  is  for  the  beloved 
country's  good,  and  I  am  satisfied.  I  cannot  view  it  in  any  other  light; 
it  is  necessary,  and  that  is  enough  for  me  to  know. 

"Every  man  of  you  who  has  common  sense  must  know  that  the 
state  of  things  which  has  existed  here,  must  be  stopped.  This  rebellion 
must  be  put  down,  the  country  must  be  defended  and  the  law  upheld; 
and  how  is  this  to  be  done  if  desertion  is  not  checked  and  discipline 
preserved  in  our  army?  I  think  the  army  is  fighting  in  a  good  cause — 
the  suppression  of  the  rebellion;  and  if  desertion  is  tolerated,  it  cannot 
succeed;  it  might  as  well  be  given  up  and  all  those  who  are  true  to 
their  oaths,  return  home,  having  gained  nothing  by  their  exertions  and 
zeal. 

"I  have,  as  I  said  before,  forgiven  every  one  who  may  have  injured 
me;  I  have  forgiven  all  the  officers  of  the  Fifth  New  Hampshire  Regi- 
ment, as  well  as  all  the  regiments  in  the  field,  and  I  trust  in  God 
that  they  will  endeavor  to  be  as  good  as  they  can  to  the  private  sol- 
diers. I  suppose  I  am  the  first  man  who  has  been  sentenced  to  pay 
the  penalty  of  death  on  Point  Lookout,  Md.,  and  I  am  satisfied  to  bear 
with  it  as  an  example.  I  have  felt  many  times,  since  I  received  my  sen- 
tence, that  it  would  do  the  country  a  great  deal  of  good  by  dying  so — 
that  I  could  do  her  more  good  in  this  way  than  by  all  the  fighting  I 
could  do  in  the  field,  and  I  hope  there  is  no  one  here  who  will  doubt 
me.  You  do  not  better  your  condition  by  desertion;  you  may  for  a 
time  succeed  in  escaping  detection,  but  you  have  taken  the  oath  before 
God  and  man  that  you  will  fight  for  the  country,  and  it  is  a  solemn 
and  a  very  serious  thing  to  break  it. 

"Dear  friends,  I  hope  that  you  will  all  come  to  Christ  immediately; 
it  is  very  wrong  for  you  to  delay;  death  is  before  you,  and  you  do  not 
know  how  soon  it  may  come.  I  have  enjoyed  in  my  life  all  the  earthly 
comforts  which  money  could  give  on  this  earth;  but,  after  all,  I  was 
not  happy,  I  was  not  contented,  and  no  matter  how  badly  he  may  have 
spent  his  life  while  on  earth,  when  the  time  comes  that  he  must  die,  he 


PAGE  ONE   HUNDRED   TWENTY-ONE 


turns  his  heart  to  Christ  for  true  happiness,  and  although  I  have  lived 
a  sinner,  I  want  to  die  a  Christian.  Christ  is  willing  to  receive  me  even 
at  the  eleventh  hour.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  the  greatest  of  sinners,  but 
it  is  never  too  late  to  repent.  Come  to  Christ  immediately;  the  Chris- 
tian's hope  is  great. 

"Alas!  my  dear  father  and  mother!  How  many  hours  have  they 
wasted  away  in  instructing  me  in  the  love  which  I  owe  to  the  Saviour! 
I  forgot  all  their  teachings;  their  hearts  would  be  sad,  indeed,  to  know 
the  result  of  my  waywardness.  I  never  knew  the  worth  of  their 
teachings  until  within  the  last  forty-eight  hours.  I  feel  it  all  now,  the 
folly  of  my  life,  the  reward  of  my  neglect.  Yes,  it  is  true  that  order 
must  be  preserved  amongst  you.  I  say  you,  not  myself,  because  I  am 
about  to  die  in  a  few,  a  very  few  minutes,  and  to  appear  before  my  God 
to  answer  my  final  account.  That  is  a  tribunal  which  is  reserved  for 
all,  and  from  which  none  of  us  can  escape,  and  I  trust  to  Him  for 
mercy.  I  have  borne  myself  through  this  terrible  ordeal  as  well  as  I 
could,  perhaps  as  well  as  most  men  could,  and  I  have  been  reconciled 
to  my  doom  because  it  was  one  which  I  knew  to  be  just,  and  because 
I  threw  myself  upon  Christ  altogether  in  my  hour  of  need,  and  I  felt 
He  would  not  forsake  me.  My  last  words  then  are,  that  you  will  do 
all  in  your  power  to  procure  for  yourselves  salvation.  This  world  is 
nothing  when  compared  with  the  world  upon  which  I  am  about  to 
enter.  The  trials,  the  sufferings  of  the  just  and  righteous  before  God 
are  easily  borne  with  here.  Be  good  Christians;  obey  the  laws,  and 
when  your  hour  comes,  you  can  call  upon  Christ  with  confident  hearts. 

"My  dear  friends,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  spend  a  much  longer  time 
speaking  to  you  on  this  subject;  I  could  spend  a  whole  day,  but  my 
time  is  come.  I  must  say  farewell  to  all.  May  you  never  meet  so  sad 
a  fate.  May  you  awake  to  the  realization  of  the  great  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity and  reap  the  benefit  of  your  devotion  hereafter." 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  address  he  requested  permission  of  the 
provost  marshal  to  shake  hands  with  the  men  who  were  detailed  as  the 
firing  party,  which  was  at  once  granted.  He  went  through  the  ranks, 
accompanied  by  Lieutenant  Hilliard,  and  clasped  each  man  warmly  by 
the  hand.  His  step  was  firm  to  the  last,  and  his  voice  clear  and  dis- 
tinct. His  memory  seemed  to  catch  inspiration  from  his  position,  as 
he  did  not  forget  even  the  most  trivial  matter  which  he  wanted  to  settle. 
It  compassed  in  that  brief  space  the  work  which  might,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  have  taken  years  to  accomplish. 

Having  bade  farewell  to  his  friends,  the  spot  was  pointed  out  to 
him  where  he  was  to  stand,  and  he  walked  to  it  with  great  coolness, 
though  exhibiting  symptoms  of  confusion.  He  stood  for  a  few  seconds 
with  his  hands  clasped  in  prayer,  and  when  he  had  concluded  he  was 
requested   to   bend   on   one   knee,   which   having   done,   the   word   was 


PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED   TWENTY-TWO 


given  to  fire.  One  word,  alone,  told  that  his  troubles  in  this  world 
were  at  an  end — but  two  or  three  throes  of  the  body,  and  all  was  still. 
The  deceased  was  a  native  of  Vermont,  was  about  twenty-eight 
years  of  age,  had  no  family  except  brothers  and  sisters,  to  whom  he 
sent  his  photograph  with  letters  of  condolence.  His  last  words  were, 
"May  God  have  mercy  upon  me  and  receive  my  spirit." 

A  Trip  to  Washington 

On  the  23d  of  December  it  was  decided  that  I  should  go  to  Wash- 
ington with  two  or  three  smugglers.  At  my  request  Louis  Rowe  was 
detailed  to  go  with  me.  The  trip  proved  a  memorable  one.  Our 
passes  extended  till  the  28th.  We  arrived  at  Washington  about  5  p.  m. 
and  at  once  turned  our  prisoners  over  to  the  provost  marshal.  We 
then  proceeded  to  the  rooms  of  the  N.  H.  Soldiers'  Aid  Society,  where 
I  met  that  distinguished  nurse,  Miss  Harriet  Dame,  and  her  associate, 
Miss  Swain.  Miss  Dame  had  recently  been  in  Beaufort,  S.  C,  where 
my  brother  Abbott  was  on  duty  as  hospital  steward,  and  had  met  him, 
which  fact  added  much  to  the  pleasure  of  my  visit.  That  evening  we 
attended  a  concert  at  the  13th  Street  Baptist  church  and  then  took 
lodging  at  the  New  York  Hotel  on  7th  Street. 

While  there  we  visited  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  and  inspected 
the  personal  effects  of  General  Washington  on  exhibition  at  the  Patent 
office.  On  Christmas  day  we  went  to  Mt.  Pleasant  hospital  and  visited 
some  of  our  comrades,  who  were  there  by  reason  of  wounds  received 
at  Chancellorsville  and  other  battles.  As  it  was  Christmas  the  boys 
there  enjoyed  a  turkey  dinner,  of  which  we  partook. 

That  evening  we  visited  Ford's  theatre.  The  play  of  the  evening 
was  "The  Drunkard,"  and  one  of  the  leading  characters  was  J.  Wilkes 
Booth,  who  later  in  this  same  theatre  assassinated  President  Lincoln. 

The  next  morning  we  took  passage  on  a  boat,  not  ironed, 
for  our  return  to  Point  Lookout.  The  cold  weather  of  the  two  or 
three  days  previous  had  formed  ice  on  the  Potomac  to  the  thickness  of 
two  or  three  inches,  but  the  captain  thought  he  could  go  through  this 
all  right  and  started.  About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  Louis  Rowe 
and  I  were  with  the  captain  on  the  upper  deck  amusing  ourselves  shoot- 
ing ducks,  of  which  there  were  very  many  on  the  ice,  when  the  captain 
was  informed  that  the  hold  was  filling  with  water.  The  ice  had  cut 
through  the  sheathing  and  woodwork  of  the  bow,  and  the  water  was 
flowing  in  so  freely  that  the  boat  was  at  once  headed  for  the  shore,  a 
mile  or  two  distant.  The  pumps  were  kept  at  work,  but  just  as  her 
bow  struck  the  shore  she  went  down,  with  the  water  on  the  level  with 
the  upper  deck.  Here  we  remained  for  some  hours,  with  the  signal 
of  distress  flying,  when  the  John  A.  Warner  of  Baltimore  came  along 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  TWENTY-THREE 


and  took  us  off  and  carried  us  back  to  Washington.  There  we  re- 
mained till  Sunday  morning,  when  we  again  started  for  the  Point  on 
another  boat.  We  had  proceeded  but  a  few  miles  when  the  fog  be- 
came very  dense.  We  ran  very  slowly,  but  came  near  running  into  a 
gun  boat  anchored  in  the  stream,  and  the  John  Brooks,  having  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  and  some  of  his  cabinet  on  board,  came  near  running  into 
as.  The  President  was  on  his  way  back  to  Washington  from  Fortress 
Monroe.  As  it  was  considered  unsafe  to  run  longer,  the  boat  anchored 
and  there  remained  till  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Then  the  fog 
lifted,  and  we  proceeded  on  our  way  till  7,  when  darkness  prevented 
our  proceeding  further.  Later  the  moon  afforded  sufficient  light  to 
enable  the  boat  to  again  start,  and  we  proceeded,  arriving  at  the  Point 
about  9  o'clock  Tuesday  morning. 

On  our  passage  up  the  river  we  met  the  Russian  fleet  on  its  way 
from  Washington.  The  presence  of  this  fleet  in  American  waters  at 
this  time  attracted  world  wide  attention,  for  it  occurred  when  interven- 
tion by  England  was  greatly  feared,  and  this  action  was  considered  as 
a  notice  to  England  to  keep  her  hands  off. 

During  our  absence  from  the  Point,  the  president  and  some  of  his 
cabinet,  on  their  return  from  a  visit  to  Fortress  Monroe,  and  General 
Butler  and  his  staff  had  visited  the  Point.  The  troops  stationed  here 
made  a  part  of  the  18th  Army  Corp  commanded  by  Butler. 

A  day  or  two  before  the  new  year  dawned,  about  two  hundred  re- 
cruits arrived  for  the  12th  Regiment.  This  raised  the  number  to  eight 
hundred,  and  entitled  the  regiment  to  second  lieutenants.  During  the 
last  year  all  of  the  old  second  lieutenants  had  been  promoted  or  mus- 
tered out  by  death  or  discharge. 

On  the  3d  of  January,  1864,  I  was  sent  to  Baltimore  to  arrest  a 
German  by  the  name  of  Seigel.  This  man  had  been  a  refugee  or  sup- 
posed blockade  runner  under  arrest  at  the  Point,  and  Capt.  Patterson 
had  allowed  him  to  go  to  Baltimore  on  his  parole,  and  he  had  not  re- 
turned. I  went  on  the  steamer,  Wheldon  and  found  my  man  at  his 
home  but  too  sick  to  travel.  I  reported  the  facts  to  the  office  of  the 
provost  marshal  in  that  city  and  was  given  papers  to  take  back  with 
me.  I  then  took  quarters  at  the  Fountain  house,  spent  a  day  looking 
about  the  city,  and  returned  to  the  Point. 

Before  going  to  Baltimore,  I  went  up  to  the  regiment,  and  the  fill- 
ing of  the  vacancies  was  a  natural  topic  of  conversation. 

Lon  Jewett,  who  went  out  as  sergeant,  had  been  recommended  for 
a  first  lieutenancy  the  first  of  December,  but  his  commission  had  not 
then  arrived,  and  he  was  still  first  sergeant.  Next  in  rank  was  Sergt. 
Hall,  Sergt.  Swain,  and  then  came  my  name.  At  this  time  Lon  Jewett 
told  me  that  he  had  had  a  conversation  with  Capt.  Langley,  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  regiment,   a  few   days   ago  and   was   informed 

PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   TWENTY-FOUR 


by  him  that  he  was  going  to  recommend  me  from  Co.  D  for  a  second 
lieutenant's  commission.  He  thought  he  should  ignore  the  rank  of 
one  sergeant  above  me  on  the  ground  that  he  had  allowed  himself 
unnecessarily  to  have  been  taken  prisoner  at  Chancellorsville,  and  that 
he  went  home  from  Camp  Parole,  Baltimore,  in  citizen's  clothes  without 
permission.  But  later  Capt  A.  J.  Huntoon,  who  commanded  Co.  D, 
urged  this  sergeant's  appointment  from  the  fact  that  he  went  out  as 
first  sergeant  and  I  only  as  fifth  corporal,  and  that  he  would  now  give 
me  the  first  sergeant's  position.  This  reasoning  had  its  weight,  and 
my  name  was  not  sent  in.  Capt.  Huntoon  then  offered  me  the  posi- 
tion of  first  sergeant  and  I  accepted,  because  it  was  in  the  line  of  pro- 
motion. I  continued  on  duty  at  headquarters  till  the  readjustment 
could  take  place. 

On  the  12th  of  January,  General  Marston  made  a  raid  into  Vir- 
ginia. He  took  with  him  two  hundred  infantry  and  three  hundred 
cavalry.  Two  or  three  gun  boats  accompanied  them  and  furnished 
transportation  for  a  part  of  the  party.  He  returned  on  the  15th,  bring- 
ing back  a  rebel  major,  a  captain,  a  lieutenant,  and  four  privates,  whom 
they  captured  at  their  homes  on  furloughs.  They  also  brought  back 
about  fifty  horses  and  mules  for  the  government,  while  the  boys 
brought  over  for  their  own  use  a  lot  of  poultry  and  one  or  two  live  pigs. 
The  only  casualty  was  one  man  accidently  killed  by  one  of  the  party. 

The  same  day  a  squad  of  cavalry,  which  had  been  scouring  the 
country  north  of  us,  brought  in  five  deserters,  four  alive  and  one  dead. 
The  latter  had  been  shot  by  one  of  the  guard  on  some  pretext  which 
may  have  been  thought  sufficient  by  the  authorities,  but  the  surviving 
four  pronounced  it  a  cold  blooded  murder.  Such  incidents  as  these 
only  go  to  show  the  little  value  placed  on  human  life  by  men  hardened 
by  the  scenes  of  war. 

About  this  time  a  corporal  and  four  men  on  guard  at  the  wharf, 
took  a  boat  they  were  guarding,  and  deserted  The  night  was  bitterly 
cold,  but  they  touched  at  some  point  after  leaving  Point  Lookout  and 
engaged  a  citizen  to  pilot  them  across  the  bay  to  the  east.  There  they 
also  secured  another  boat  and  proceeded,  three  in  each.  The  next  day 
a  tug,  or  boat,  from  the  lightship  stationed  at  Smith's  Point,  brought 
back  to  Point  Lookout  one  of  the  deserters  and  the  citizen  He  stated 
that  the  boat  was  seen  adrift  during  the  night  and  a  boat  was  sent  to 
their  rescue  One  of  the  three  lay  dead  in  the  boat,  and  the  others 
were  too  chilled  to  ply  the  oars.  The  other  boat  was  seen  bottom  up 
and  all  its  occupants  were  supposed  to  have  been  drowned. 

It  was  one  of  the  duties  of  Lieut.  Bean,  my  immediate  superior, 
each  evening  to  go  out  into  Chesapeake  bay  on  a  small  steam-boat  to 
intercept  the  mail  boats  that  plied  between  Baltimore  and  Fortress 
Monroe,   and  between   Fortress    Monroe   and    Baltimore,   and   take   on 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    TWENTY-FIVE 


board  the  mail  and  passengers  for  the  Point,  and  examine  the  passes  of 
the  passengers,  for  no  one  could  travel  in  that  country  at  that  time  with- 
out a  pass.  Owing  to  the  absence  of  Lieut.  Bean  and  other  reasons, 
this  duty  now  fell  on  my  shoulders  most  of  the  time,  in  addition  to  my 
other  duties,  and,  as  it  was  sometimes  2  o'clock  in  the  morning  before 
we  returned,  my  duties  were  quite  arduous  at  this  time. 

About  this  time  William  A.  Berry  visited  the  Point  on  his  way  to 
Warrington,  Va.,  to  secure  the  remains  of  his  brother-in-law,  Comrade 
Pratt,  whose  death  at  that  place  has  been  noted  here.  Dr.  H.  B.  Fowler 
accompanied  him  from  Point  Lookout.  About  this  time  we  had  as  a 
guest  Rev.  Geo.  N.  Bryant,  pastor  of  the  Methodist  church  at  Bristol, 
who  spent  a  few  days  with  us  and  preached  one  Sunday  in  the  regi- 
mental chapel. 

January  27,  I  received  an  order  to  report  to  the  adjutant  general, 
Capt.  Lawrence,  at  brigade  headquarters.  I  was  then  told  that  Gen. 
Butler  was  considering  the  organization  of  a  regiment  from  among  the 
rebel  prisoners,  who  had  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  enlisted  into 
the  United  States  service,  and  offered  me  a  commission  in  that  regiment. 
I  thanked  him  and  retired  and  continued  my  usual  duties  till  February 
6,  when  Lon  Jewett  and  Sergt.  Hall  got  their  commissions,  and  I  was 
relieved  from  duty  at  brigade  headquarters  and  reported  to  my  com- 
pany and  was  made  orderly  sergeant. 

Before  the  arrival  of  the  new  recruits  a  case  of  punishment  of  one 
of  the  men  was  very  rare.  Now  it  was  a  common  occurrence  and  va- 
rious ways  were  devised.  The  culprit  was  required  to  do  extra 
work,  to  parade  the  grounds  with  a  placard  on  his  back  stating  his 
offense,  to  carry  a  load  a  long  time,  etc.  February  13,  William  Wilson 
of  my  company  got  drunk  while  on  guard,  and  he  was  made  to  sit  on 
the  ridgepole  of  a  tent  all  the  afternoon,  bearing  a  placard,  which  read, 
"I  got  drunk  on  guard." 

Sunday  morning,  February  21,  a  salute  for  a  major  general  an- 
nounced the  arrival  of  General  Butler  and  staff,  and  then  came  an 
order  to  prepare  for  review.  For  a  few  minutes  all  was  bustle  and 
activity,  when  the  several  regiments  fell  into  line  and  General  Butler 
reviewed  the  brigade. 

At  another  time  an  alarm  called  all  the  troops  into  line.  "Load 
at  will,"  was  a  command  given.  In  response  to  this  command,  one  of 
the  recruits,  said  to  be  a  Catholic  priest,  being  unable  to  get  a  Minie 
ball  into  his  musket  without  removing  the  paper,  put  it  into  his  pocket. 
I  detected  the  movement  and  caused  the  ball  to  be  placed  in  its  proper 
place. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  TWENTY-SIX 


Furloughs  for  Home 

As  the  time  for  the  annual  election  in  New  Hampshire  drew  near, 
the  boys  became  intensely  interested  in  rumors  to  the  effect  that  fur- 
loughs would  be  granted  to  some  of  the  men  to  go  home  to  vote.  A 
little  later  this  was  announced  as  a  fact,  and  I  was  one  of  the  fortunate 
ones.  Those  from  Cos.  C  and  D  were  Sergts.  Chas.  Brown  and  U.  H. 
Kidder,  Corps.  Louis  Rowe,  Albert  Nelson,  Hiram  Ferrin,  Chas.  Drown, 
and  John  Bickford,  and  Privates  Geo.  C.  Currier,  A.  V.  Perry,  and 
Robert  Martin.  None  but  Republicans  were  selected,  and  this  fact 
was  the  cause,  naturally,  of  deep-seated  dissatisfaction,  especially  as 
some  selected  had  but  recently  returned  from  New  Hampshire,  and 
some  Democrats,  as  good  soldiers  as  there  were  in  the  company,  had 
not  had  a  furlough  since  entering  the  service.  But  these  men  had  been 
in  the  service  long  enough  to  know  that  open  complaint  would  do  no 
good,  so  they  suppressed  their  indignation. 

On  the  morning  of  February  23,  the  steamer  "Admiral  Dupont," 
which  was  to  convey  us  to  Boston,  cast  anchor  in  the  stream,  and  we 
received  orders  to  be  ready  to  embark  at  5  o'clock  that  afternoon  with 
five  days'  rations.     At  5  o'clock  the  time  was  changed  to  10  o'clock. 

At  that  time  we  went  to  the  boat,  waited  an  hour  and  then  were 
ordered  back  to  camp  and  told  to  be  ready  at  6:30  next  morning.  At 
that  hour  we  again  marched  to  the  boat,  when  we  were  told  to  return 
to  camp  and  be  ready  to  embark  at  any  time.  As  our  furloughs  ex- 
pired March  15,  every  hour's  delay  meant  just  so  much  less  time  in 
New  Hampshire,  and  we  were  impatient  to  be  off. 

That  night,  while  the  furloughed  men  were  waiting  for  orders  to 
take  the  boat,  they  naturally  paid  no  attention  to  the  "retreat"  or  "taps" 
as  they  sounded,  and  though  the  poor  fellows  doomed  to  remain  in 
camp  sought  their  bunks,  the  thought  of  their  wrongs  and  the  noise  of 
the  waiting  men  prevented  sleep  and  put  them  in  ill  humor.  There 
were  in  my  company  two  brothers,  one  a  Republican  and  the  other 
a  Democrat,  consequently  one  was  among  the  furloughed  men  and 
the  other  was  not.  That  night  politics  was  discussed,  and  the  latter, 
failing  to  hold  his  own  with  his  Republican  brother,  expressed  himself 
thus:  '"Well!  my  father  was  a  Democrat  and  so  I  am  a  Democrat," 
to  which  his  brother  promptly  retorted,  "Well!  I  wouldn't  be  a  damn 
fool  just  because  my  father  was."  This  raised  a  laugh  and  closed  the 
discussion. 

Finally,  at  1  o'clock  p.  m.,  on  the  24th,  we  boarded  the  vessel,  and 
she  moved  into  Chesapeake  bay.  There  were  about  four  hundred  sol- 
diers aboard  from  the  12th,  5th,  and  2d  Regiments.  In  her  normal 
condition  the  boat  was  not  intended  to  carry  one  fourth  this  number, 


PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   TWENTY-SEVEN 


but  tiers  of  bunks  had  been  put  up  in  the  hold,  so  that  each  had  a  place 
to  lie  down,  if  he  did  not  wish  to  stand  on  deck. 

The  afternoon  was  fine,  and  we  enjoyed  the  ride  down  the  bay. 
We  arrived  at  Fortress  Monroe  at  8  p.  m.,  where  we  passed  the  night. 
As  we  r.eared  the  fortress  a  sad  accident  happened.  Our  vessel  ran 
so  close  to  a  schooner  at  anchor  that  the  bowsprit  of  the  schooner  car- 
ried away  a  part  of  the  wheel  house,  the  railing  on  deck,  and  a  boat 
hanging  by  its  davits  over  the  side  of  our  boat.  In  the  boat  were  four 
soldiers  who  were  plunged  into  the  water  and  one  was  drowned.  Louis 
Rowe  and  I  had  selected  this  boat  as  a  place  to  spend  the  night,  but 
these  men  had  taken  possession  while  we  had  gone  for  our  knapsacks. 

At  10  o'clock  the  next  day,  we  resumed  our  voyage  for  Boston, 
and  the  day  passed  without  any  noteworthy  incident.  Saturday,  the 
25th,  was  stormy  or  very  windy,  and  the  sea  was  very  rough  All  the 
hatchways  were  closed,  and  the  large  number  of  men  in  the  holds  soon 
rendered  the  air  very  impure,  and  nearly  all  the  men  were  sick,  and 
some  seemed  not  to  care  whether  they  lived  or  died.  If  they  had  any 
preference,  it  was  to  die.  Never  before  or  since  have  I  seen  men  so 
totally  indifferent  to  all  decency  as  these.  Though  the  waves  swept 
the  upper  deck,  I  made  frequent  visits  to  that  side  of  the  deck  protected 
by  the  pilot  house,  and  obtained  enough  fresh  air  to  keep  myself  in  my 
normal  condition,  and  I  was  not  seasick  at  all 

On  the  evening  of  Saturday,  the  27th,  we  arrived  in  Boston  and  at 
midnight  disembarked  and  were  quartered  at  the  Soldiers'  Retreat  on 
Beach  street.  At  10  o'clock  Sunday  morning  we  took  a  special  train 
for  Concord,  where  we  arrived  at  1  o'clock. 

We  were  met  at  the  station  at  Concord  by  the  militia  of  the  city, 
a  band  of  music,  and  a  large  concourse  of  people,  and  were  escorted  to 
the  city  hall.  At  that  place  our  party  was  divided  and  sent  to  the  va- 
rious hotels,  where  we  were  entertained  till  we  could  take  the  train  for 
home  the  next  day. 

Sunday  evening  an  entertainment  was  given  in  our  honor  in  Phenix 
hall.,  Music  was  furnished  by  the  band,  and  the  combined  choirs  of 
the  city  were  led  by  Prof.  Benj.  B.  Davis.  Patriotic  speeches  were 
made  by  local  talent  and  some  of  the  officers  of  our  detachments. 

Not  till  3  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  Monday  did  a  train  leave 
Concord  for  Bristol,  and  we  arrived  home  at  5  p.  m.  There  was  no 
telegraph  nor  telephone  line  to  Bristol  in  those  days,  and  our  coming 
at  that  early  date  was  not  announced  by  wire,  and  our  arrival  was 
therefore  something  of  a  surprise. 

Our  stay  at  home  was  one  round  of  pleasure.  We  were  lionized 
to  some  extent,  and  every  evening  was  passed  at  parties,  attending  meet- 
ings and  other  gatherings,  in  receiving  guests  or  making  calls.     One 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  TWENTY-EIGHT 


evening  my  father's  home  was  filled  with  visitors,  about  thirty  being  pre- 
sent, and  one  evening  an  oyster  supper  was  given  us  at  the  town  hall  at 
which  350  were  present. 


Election  Day 

The  second  Tuesday  of  the  month  was  election  day.  There  were 
a  few  rightly  called  copperheads  there,  who  did  not  disguise  their  dis- 
pleasure at  our  presence.  Such  were  watched  for  a  sufficient  cause  for  a 
demonstration,  but  the  meeting  passed  without  an  open  rupture. 

Meeting  adjourned  early  in  the  afternoon  and  the  voters  repaired 
to  Central  square,  where  many  of  them  lingered  for  gossip.  It  seemed 
that  Dan  Hight,  of  the  class  named  above,  who  lived  on  Pleasant  street, 
had  secreted  in  his  home  a  Republican  voter  by  the  name  of  Pike,  whose 
home  was  in  New  Hampton.  Evidently  thinking  it  was  then  so  late 
that  he  could  release  his  captive  in  safety,  Hight  drove  through  the  vil- 
lage with  Pike,  going  down  Central  street  to  New  Hampton.  Some  one 
suggested  that  Pike  might  yet  be  got  to  New  Hampton  town  house  in 
season  to  vote,  if  he  could  be  got  away  from  Hight.  Joseph  P.  Fellows 
of  Co.  C  and  I  at  once  volunteered  to  undertake  this  job.  A  team  was 
hastily  hitched  up  for  us  at  the  stable  and  we  overtook  the  trio  on  the 
New  Hampton  side  of  the  river.  Driving  alongside  of  Height's  sleigh 
we  told  Pike  to  get  into  our  sleigh.  It  did  not  seem  to  make  any  dif- 
ference to  Pike  where  he  went,  but  Hight  at  once  showed  fight  and  said, 
"No,  he  don't,"  to  which  Joe  replied,  "Yes,  he  does."  We  made  the 
transfer,  paying  no  attention  to  the  hard  words  Hight  rained  on  us,  or 
the  savage  blows  he  struck  the  air,  and  we  returned  to  the  village  with 
our  capture  and  from  there  started  for  New  Hampton,  followed  by  half 
a  dozen  teams,  filled  with  interested  spectators.  Half  way  there  our 
sleigh  was  wrecked  on  a  sand  bar,  but  we  transferred  our  prize  to  the 
next  team  in  our  rear  and  proceeded.  We  arrived  at  the  town  house  a 
half  hour  before  the  adjournment  of  the  town  meeting,  but  only  to  find 
that  Pike's  name  was  not  on  the  checklist.  Hight  followed  us  back  to 
Bristol  village,  after  losing  his  man,  and  there  was  greeted  with  rounds 
of  ridicule  as  he  passed  through  Central  square,  to  which  he  replied  with 
a  volley  of  high  sounding  words  and  pantomime  that  were  evidently  in- 
tended to  deter  the  bravest  from  approaching  him. 

Monday  morning  following  town  meeting  I  left  Bristol  on  my  re- 
turn to  the  army.  On  the  way  I  passed  a  day  or  two  at  Cohoes,  N.  Y., 
where  my  brother  William  resided,  and  reached  Baltimore  the  next 
Saturday.  At  Baltimore  I  met  a  lot  of  the  boys  on  their  way  back  to 
Point  Lookout,  and  about  forty  of  us  took  passage  on  the  steamer 
Adelaide,  which  was  running  between  Baltimore  and  Fortress  Monroe. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  TWENTY-NINE 


On  this  boat  an  incident  happened  that  has  always  afforded  me 
some  satisfaction,  whether  it  was  right  or  wrong.  On  boarding  the 
boat  our  party  went  into  the  cabin,  supposing  we  were  entitled  to  the 
same  privileges  as  civilians  inasmuch  as  we  paid,  or  were  expected  to 
pay,  full  fare  for  our  passage,  but  we  were  sternly  ordered  out,  being 
told  that  enlisted  men  were  not  allowed  in  the  cabin  and  that  there  was 
a  fire  in  the  hold.  The  air  in  the  hold  was  unfit  for  a  human  being  to 
breathe,  and  so  we  remained  on  deck.  The  men  were  indignant  and  some 
were  for  taking  possession  of  the  cabin  and  holding  it,  but  wiser  counsel 
prevailed  and  we  concluded,  notwithstanding  we  were  several  times  told 
to  call  at  the  office  and  pay  our  fare,  that  we  would  not  pay  fare  till  we 
were  obliged  to.  Towards  midnight  when  we  were  opposite  Point 
Lookout,  a  boat  from  there  came  alongside  to  transfer  the  passengers 
for  that  place.  Officers  stood  on  both  sides  the  gangway  crying 
"Tickets,  tickets,"  but  the  moment  the  gang  plank  reached  from  one 
deck  to  the  other  we  all  made  a  rush  and  landed  on  the  other  boat. 
This  boat  had  a  large  number  of  soldiers  on  board  that  had  just  been 
taken  in  a  similar  manner  from  the  boat  going  from  Fortress  Monroe 
to  Baltimore,  and  we  at  once  disappeared  among  them  and  none  of  us 
were  found,  and  the  boat  at  once  proceeded  on  her  way.  This  pro- 
cedure netted  the  boat  a  loss  of  about  $125. 

On  Monday  and  Tuesday,  Mar.  21  and  22,  there  was  a  heavy  fall  of 
snow  for  Maryland,  a  cold  wind  blew  and  it  was  pitiful  weather  for 
those  on  guard,  and  especially  for  those  in  the  prison  pen.  Wednesday 
the  sun  shown  warm  and  softened  the  snow,  making  it  in  just  such  con- 
dition as  tempts  the  boys  of  New  Hampshire  to  throw  snowballs.  The 
soldiers  were,  many  of  them,  boys  still,  and  some  of  our  boys  com- 
menced to  throw  snowballs  into  the  camp  of  the  2d  Regiment.  These 
were  returned,  and  a  pitched  snowball  battle  was  soon  on  between  the 
two  regiments,  in  which  nearly  every  man  in  both  organizations  joined. 
Charges  and  countercharges  were  made,  and  at  one  time  the  boys  of  the 
12th  held  possession  of  the  grounds  of  the  Second,  including  headquar- 
ters. Finally  some  of  the  thoughtless  commenced  to  throw  brickbats, 
and  feelings  were  ruffled  on  both  sides,  when  Maj.  Langley,  fearing 
more  serious  results,  had  the  recall  sounded  and  the  boys  of  the  12th 
retired  to  their  quarters. 

On  the  sixth  of  April,  1864,  Gen.  Marston  was  relieved  by  Gen. 
Hinks,  and  ordered  to  report  at  Norfork,  or  in  that  vicinity,  and  the  next 
day  the  2d  Regiment  followed  him.  On  the  10th,  the  12th  got  orders  to 
be  ready  to  move  at  short  notice,  and  that  day,  the  Sabbath,  was  spent 
in  packing  up,  though  services  were  held  for  the  last  time  there  in  the 
evening.  Our  stay  at  Point  Lookout  on  the  whole  had  been  so  pleasant 
and  comfortable  that  we  left  with  many  of  the  feelings  with  which  we 
left  Concord  for  the  seat  of  war,  only  we  realized  more  clearly  what 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY 


was  probably  before  us,  for  we  knew  better  what  an  active  campaign 
meant.  The  little  trinkets  and  conveniences  that  had  accumulated  dur- 
ing our  stay  there  were  thrown  one  side  as  of  no  further  value  to  us, 
and  some  thoughtless  ones  made  a  bonfire  of  them.  Others  gave  them 
to  the  soldiers  of  the  colored  regiment,  who  had  relieved  the  Second 
N.  H.  Vols. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-ONE 


CHAPTER  XI 
VICTORY  IN  VIRGINIA 

On  the  11th,  early,  orders  came  for  the  12th  Regt.  to  be  ready  to 
march  at  9  o'clock.  While  waiting  for  the  order  to  fall  in,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  receive  an  order  to  report  to  Col.  C.  A.  R.  Dimond  at  regi- 
mental headquarters.  Col.  Dimond  was  to  command  a  regiment  that 
was  to  be  organized  of  the  "Galvanized  Yankees,"  as  the  prisoners  of 
war  who  had  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  and  enlisted  into  our  service 
were  called,  and  he  wanted  to  meet  the  men  who  had  been  selected  for 
commissions  in  that  regiment.  After  a  short  interview  he  informed 
me  that  he  should  forward  my  papers  for  approval  and  I  would  prob- 
ably hear  from  them  soon.  So  long  a  time  had  passed  since  Capt. 
Lawrence  had  spoken  to  me  on  the  subject,  I  had  about  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  was  to  hear  nothing  more  from  it. 

At  noon  of  that  day  we  boarded  the  steamer,  Thomas  A.  Morgan, 
in  waiting,  and  moved  down  the  bay,  soon  passing  a  regiment  of  blacks 
going  to  the  Point  to  take  our  places.  The  day  was  fine;  on  the  water 
were  a  marvelous  number  of  ducks,  which  excited  our  wonder  and 
admiration,  and  drew  from  the  boys  a  few  stray  shots,  though  against 
orders.  At  8  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  reached  Yorktown,  and  at  2  the 
next  morning  disembarked,  and  found  the  2d  Regt.  there. 

After  making  coffee  and  partaking  of  breakfast  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, we  marched  to  Williamsburg.  Here  the  12th  and  2d  N.  H.  Vols., 
the  148th  New  York  Vols,  and  11th  Conn.  Vols,  were  formed  into  the  2d 
Brigade,  of  the  2d  Division  of  the  18th  Army  Corps.  Gen.  Wistar 
was  to  command;  Gen.  Weitzel  the  division  and  Gen.  Smith  the  corps. 
This  corps  constituted  a  part  of  Gen.  Butler's  forces,  termed  the  army 
of  the  James. 

The  march  of  twelve  miles  from  Yorktown  was  rather  enjoyed  by 
me,  though  I  carried  a  load  of  about  fifty  pounds.  The  road  was  good 
and  we  were  traveling  over  historic  ground,  where  great  deeds  were 
enacted  during  the  Revolutionary  war  and  the  early  days  of  the  present 
war,  and  these  thoughts  occupied  my  mind  and  saved  me  from  natural 
fatigue.  We  went  into  camp  on  a  part  of  the  battlefield  of  Williams- 
burg, where  a  year  before  Hooker  and  Kearny  fought  a  much  larger 
number  of  rebel  troops. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-THREE 


Our  camp  was  laid  out  as  with  a  view  to  permanency,  and  tents 
were  issued  which  did  not  look  like  the  opening  of  a  field  campaign. 
Perhaps  this  was  to  deceive  the  enemy.  Daily  drills  were  instituted  for 
the  benefit  of  the  new  men  in  the  ranks,  which  did  not  tend  to  increase 
the  love  of  the  veterans  for  the  new  comers.  Indeed  the  original  mate- 
rial of  the  regiment  looked  with  disdain  on  the  new,  and  there  was  but 
little  in  common  between  them.  The  original  men  of  the  12th  were  the 
sturdy,  hardworking  yeomen  of  New  Hampshire,  who  had  enlisted  to 
fight  for  the  preservation  of  their  country;  the  new  comers  had  no 
country  and  no  principle  to  fight  for.  They  were  the  offscouring  of 
the  earth.  They  enlisted  for  money  and  sought  the  first  opportunity  to 
desert.  Since  leaving  Point  Lookout  desertions  had  largely  increased. 
It  was  reported  that  a  hundred  of  these  men  had  deserted  in  three  days 
from  our  brigade. 

It  was  evident  that  something  must  be  done  to  check  this  exodus. 
Accordingly,  James  Scott,  a  native  of  Scotland,  twenty-two  years  old, 
and  Owen  McDonald,  a  native  of  England,  aged  twenty-nine  years,  both 
members  of  the  2d  Regt.  were  tried  by  general  court  martial,  were  sen- 
tenced to  be  shot  for  desertion  and  were  executed  Apr.  29  at  Williams- 
burg. 

The  scenes  of  that  day  are  still  vivid  in  my  recollection.  The 
troops  of  the  brigade  were  drawn  up  in  line  on  three  sides  of  a  hollow 
square.  On  the  fourth  side,  where  the  execution  was  to  take  place  two 
graves  had  been  dug.  Soon  after  the  line  had  been  formed,  the  funeral 
procession  entered  the  square  on  the  open  side,  marching  to  the  music 
of  the  muffled  drums.  In  the  rear  of  the  drum  corps  was  driven  an 
army  wagon  in  which  were  two  coffins;  next  walked,  with  apparent  in- 
difference, the  two  condemned  men,  followed  by  a  guard,  the  chaplain 
and  other  officials.  This  procession  marched  close  in  front  of  the  sol- 
diers in  line  that  all  might  see.  The  duty  of  one  officer  was  to  select  the 
firing  party  as  the  procession  moved  along.  When  opposite,  this  officer 
approached  our  company  for  a  man.  All  shrunk  back  at  the  thought 
of  such  a  duty,  but  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Frank  Marshall 
of  Hill,  who  stood  next  to  me,  and  Frank  became  one  of  the  execu- 
tioners. In  this  way  twelve  men  were  selected.  Arriving  at  the  open 
graves,  the  coffins  were  placed  on  the  ground  and  the  condemned  men 
were  seated  each  on  his  own  coffin;  the  muskets  of  the  firing  party 
were  taken  from  them  and  eleven  were  loaded  with  ball  cartridges  by 
others  than  those  who  fired  them,  one  being  left  blank  so  that  no  one 
would  know  whether  he  used  a  ball  cartridge  or  not.  They  were  then 
passed  back  to  the  men,  the  death  warrant  was  read;  the  chaplain,  Rev. 
J.  W.  Adams,  who  was  long  a  member  of  the  N.  H.  Conference,  offered 
prayer;  the  eyes  of  the  condemned  men  were  bandaged;  at  a  given 
sign  the  firing  party  took  aim;  at  another  it  fired,  and  the  lifeless  bodies 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-FOUR 


of  both  men  fell  backward  on  the  coffins,  pierced  by  a  half  dozen  balls. 
The  execution  over,  the  troops  composing  the  three  sides  of  the  square 
faced  to  the  right  and  marched  past  the  lifeless  forms  of  the  two  men, 
who  had  suffered  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law. 

Williamsburg  was  a  place  of  much  interest.  On  every  hand  were 
the  marks  of  the  battle  a  year  previous,  which  interested  the  majority. 
Here,  too,  was  one  of  the  earliest  settlements  of  the  country,  and  this 
city  was  for  seventy-five  years  the  capital  of  Virginia,  and  here  was 
William  and  Mary's  college,  the  oldest,  next  to  Harvard,  in  the  country. 
But  little  of  its  former  self,  and  none  of  its  former  greatness,  remained. 

April  27,  I  received  notice  of  an  appointment  as  1st  lieutenant  in 
the  1st  Regt.,  U.  S.  Vol.,  Infantry.  Sergt.  John  P.  Eaton  of  Co.  B 
also  received  an  appointment  as  first  lieutenant,  Corp.  Samuel  B.  Noyes 
of  Co.  I,  a  former  fellow  student  at  Tilton,  and  Sergt.  Horace  I.  Hutch- 
ins  of  Co.  I,  received  appointments  as  2d  lieutenants  in  the  same  regi- 
ment. I  did  not  expect  or  desire  anything  above  a  second  lieutenancy 
because  it  carried  with  it  more  responsibility.  It  might  as  well  have 
been  a  captain's  appointment,  however,  as  I  performed  almost  from 
the  first  the  work  and  duties  of  a  captain,  as  the  facts  will  show  later. 
I  turned  in  my  gun  and  equipments,  awaiting  further  orders,  and  was 
succeeded  as  first  sergeant  by  one  who  had  come  out  as  sergeant.  Sam 
had  skulked  at  Chancellorsville,  but  now  it  was  thought  best  to  pro- 
mote him  and  give  him  an  opportunity  to  redeem  himself,  but  if  the 
spirit  was  willing  the  flesh  was  weak,  for  just  eight  days  after  his 
promotion,  the  brigade  commander  cut  off  his  shevrons  in  line  of  battle 
on  account  of  cowardice,  thus  reducing  him  to  the  ranks. 

It  has  been  claimed  by  some  of  his  comrades  that  this  was  an  in- 
justice; that  the  fellow  was  really  sick,  and  that  he  was  justified  in  lying 
down,  the  position  in  which  he  was  found  by  the  brigade  commander. 

The  next  day,  after  receiving  my  appointment,  I  received  a  letter 
from  my  brother  Abbott  of  the  115  N.  Y.  Vols.  The  last  I  had  heard 
from  him  he  was  acting  hospital  steward  at  Beaufort,  S.  C,  now  he 
was  with  his  regiment  at  Gloucester  Point,  opposite  Yorktown,  Va. 
Ordinarily  a  pass  to  leave  one's  regiment  on  the  eve  of  an  important 
movement  was  well  nigh  impossible  to  obtain,  but,  as  I  was  awaiting 
orders,  I  resolved  to  try  to  secure  a  pass  to  visit  my  brother.  I  wrote 
the  pass  stating  facts,  got  it  signed  by  the  regimental  commander,  and 
then  carried  it  to  General  Wistar,  in  command  of  the  brigade,  who 
granted  my  request  without  hesitation.  I  started  for  Gloucester  Point 
at  2  p.  m.  and  reached  there  at  5  o'clock,  and  readily  found  the  camp 
of  the  115th  N.  Y.  Vols.  A  half  hour  later  my  brother  came  in  from 
inspection.  At  first  he  did  not  know  me,  and  supposed  I  was  still  at 
Point  Lookout.  The  next  day  in  the  afternoon,  after  a  pleasant  visit, 
I  returned  to  my  regiment.     On  my  way  back  I  listened  to  a  part  of  a 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-FIVE 


sermon  by  the  chaplain  of  a  colored  regiment.  Later  I  learned  that 
I  had  listened  to  Rev.  R.  M.  Manly,  who  was  principal  of  the  Seminary 
at  Tilton  when  I  left  there. 

The  scenes  about  Yorktown  betokened  a  movement  of  large  pro- 
portions in  some  direction.  Butler  was  then  preparing  for  his  advance 
up  the  James  River  to  Petersburg,  from  which  point  he  was  to  enter 
Richmond  by  the  back  door,  while  Grant  was  fighting  Lee  north  of 
Richmond.  Butler's  plans  were  well  laid,  but  he  had  neither  the  cel- 
erity of  execution  to  enable  him  to  carry  out  this  scheme  nor  the 
co-operation  of  his  Corps  commander,  and  therefore  failed. 

At  this  time  at  Yorktown  there  was  great  activity  on  every  hand. 
A  large  number  of  troops  were  in  camp  making  preparation  for  the 
move  or  being  inspected  as  to  their  readiness  for  action.  The  waters 
at  the  mouth  of  the  James  were  covered  with  crafts  of  many  kinds — 
transports  landing  troops  from  distant  points,  or  landing  vast  quantities 
of  supplies  for  the  coming  campaign,  and  then  dropping  anchor  in  the 
stream  or  in  the  offing,  waiting  to  transport  troops  in  the  movement  up 
the  river.  The  transports  were  all  headed  up  the  bay  as  though  Butler 
thought  to  deceive  the  enemy  as  to  his  real  intentions.  At  Williams- 
burg was  returned  to  the  regiment  under  arrest,  an  old  offender — Jed 
Hubbard — the  same  who  had  deserted  at  Fredericksburg  after  having 
borrowed  the  boots  of  a  comrade  to  go  in  search  of  wood  as  previously 
described.  He  had  just  got  back  with  the  boots.  Through  the  loss 
of  records  and  other  causes  he  escaped  punishment  and  continued  to 
build  up  a  reputation  as  the  most  worthless  man  in  the  regiment. 

On  Wednesday,  May  4,  the  12th  Regiment  moved  from  its  camp 
at  Williamsburg,  leaving  behind  its  A  tents  and  taking  shelter  tents 
instead.  We  marched  a  couple  of  miles  towards  Yorktown,  past  Fort 
Magruder  to  General  Wistar's  headquarters,  and  there  we  halted  till 
dark.  We  then  resumed  our  march  through  the  woods  to  Grove  Land- 
ing on  the  James.  Arriving  there  we  were  commanded  not  to  make  a 
noise  or  build  a  fire,  just  as  though  the  enemy  did  not  know  we  were 
there.  Such  an  order  was  ridiculed  by  all  the  men,  but  had  to  be 
obeyed  all  the  same,  so,  instead  of  making  coffee  and  warming  our- 
selves by  a  fire,  we  shivered  in  the  cold  for  an  hour  or  two  and  then 
the  brigade,  late  at  night,  embarked  on  four  transports  in  waiting,  and 
on  these  we  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  great  discomfort,  as 
the  weather  was  cold  and  we  were  so  crowded  that  few  could  lie  down. 

About  8  o'clock  the  next  morning,  other  transports,  loaded  with 
troops,  put  in  an  appearance,  convoyed  by  gunboats.  They  steamed 
past  us  and  soon  the  river  up  stream  and  down  for  miles  was  covered 
with  transports  crowded  with  a  mass  of  humanity.  It  was  one  of  the 
most  imposing  sights  I  witnessed  during  the  war.  Hour  after  hour 
they  continued  to  pass,  until  finally  our  own  transport,  the  Ocean  Wave, 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-SIX 


swung  into  line  and  we,  too,  moved  up  the  river.  We  passed  Harri- 
son's Landing  and  the  house  where  McClellan  made  his  headquarters 
at  one  time,  passed  City  Point,  where  many  of  the  troops  were  landing, 
and  just  before  dark  we  landed  at  a  place  we  later  ascertained  to  be 
Bermuda  Hundred. 

Soon  after  landing  I  met  Lieut.  John  F.  Fullerton,  who  had  lately 
been  commissioned  a  lieutenant  in  the  1st  U.  S.  Vols.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  Co.  C,  12th  Regt ,  from  New  Hampton,  and  was  a  clerk  at  Gen- 
eral Marston's  headquarters  at  Point  Lookout.  Now  as  lieutenant  he 
was  serving  on  General  Marston's  staff.  I  also  met  Capt.  Lawrence, 
A.  A.  A.  G.,  on  General  Marston's  staff,  and  they  said  we  should  re- 
port to  Fortress  Monroe  on  our  appointments  for  further  orders. 

To  this  the  major,  commanding  the  12th  regiment,  assented,  and 
the  next  morning  we  bade  adieu  to  our  comrades  of  the  12th  with  keen 
regrets,  just  as  they  were  falling  in  at  dawn  for  an  advance  movement 
towards  Petersburg.  I  thought  the  comrades  reciprocated  my  feelings, 
and  no  doubt  they  did.  The  sharing  of  privations  and  dangers  in  com- 
mon for  nearly  two  years  had  cemented  the  bonds  of  friendship  and 
made  us  all  as  brothers.  Sam,  who  succeeded  me  as  1st  Sergeant, 
evidently  thought  I  was  escaping  many  dangers  ahead,  and  his  ex- 
pression was,  "Well,  Dick,  you  are  a  d lucky  fellow." 

Here  my  connection  with  the  12th  regiment  ceased,  but  the  reader 
has  doubtless  become  as  much  interested  in  the  history  of  this  regiment 
in  reading  these  reminiscences,  as  in  the  writer,  and  so  I  will  follow  it 
briefly  till  the  close  of  the  war  and  then  resume  my  personal  experiences 
in  another  organization. 

Butler  had  evidently  surprised  the  enemy  in  landing  in  force  at  Ber- 
muda Hundred,  and  had  he  followed  up  his  advantage  by  a  rapid  move- 
ment on  Petersburg  he  might  have  entered  Richmond  as  originally  in- 
tended by  "the  back  door,"  but  he  was  not  equal  to  the  occasion,  and 
before  he  was  ready  to  enter  Petersburg  the  enemy  were  there  in  force 
and  he  was  shut  out. 

The  next  morning,  after  reaching  Bermuda  Hundred,  the  reveille 
sounded  at  3  o'clock,  and  we  fell  in.  It  was  while  the  regiment  was 
in  line,  waiting  for  orders  to  move,  that  I  got  my  orders  to  report  to 
Fortress  Monroe,  so  I  fell  out  and  bade  the  boys  good-bye,  as  before 
stated.  At  six  o'clock  the  regiment  moved  toward  Chester  Station  on 
the  Petersburg  and  Richmond  railroad,  and,  after  marching  about  four 
miles,  a  portion  of  the  12th  regiment  was  thrown  out  as  skirmishers 
and  the  remainder  of  the  regiment  formed  in  line  of  battle  with  the 
balance  of  Wistar's  brigade,  and  were  held  as  a  reserve.  There  was 
no  general  engagement,  the  firing  being  confined  to  the  picket  line,  and 
the  enemy  fell  back. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-SEVEN 


The  next  day  occurred  a  slight  engagement  known  as  the  battle  of 
Bermuda  Hundred,  but  the  12th  was  not  actively  engaged.  Another 
day  passed,  and  Butler  moved  forward  by  slow  stages,  but  all  this 
time  the  enemy  was  rushing  troops  to  Butler's  front,  and  by  the  time 
Butler  was  ready  to  enter  the  back  door  it  had  been  closed. 

About  that  time,  occurred  the  battle  of  Swift  Creek,  one  of  the 
minor  battles  of  the  war,  and  the  loss  of  the  12th  Regiment  was  trifling. 
It  was  just  before  this  battle  commenced  that  George  E.  Clark  of  Co.  E, 
well  known  in  Bristol,  lost  a  leg  and  an  arm.  He,  with  his  comrades, 
was  awaiting  orders  to  fall  in  and  was  seated  on  the  ground,  his  right 
hand  resting  on  his  right  knee,  when  a  shell  exploded  over  his  head. 
A  piece  of  this  shell  cut  off  his  right  hand  at  the  wrist  so  completely 
that  only  a  little  skin  remained,  and  then  went  through  his  leg  and 
shattered  the  bone  so  completely  that  the  right  leg  was  amputated 
above  the  knee.  Of  the  entire  group  he  was  the  only  one  injured. 
This  battle  occurred  about  two  miles  from  Petersburg.  Butler  had 
twenty  thousand  men  with  which  to  force  his  way  to  that  city,  more 
than  enough  to  have  overcome  all  the  troops  that  the  enemy  had  gath- 
ered to  oppose  him  at  that  time.  During  these  days  the  men  suffered 
intensely  from  the  extreme  heat. 

On  the  12th,  the  army  started  again  at  3  a.  m.,  in  search  of  the 
enemy,  and  this  time  towards  Richmond.  Now  it  was  rain  and  mud, 
instead  of  sun,  heat  and  dust.  The  enemy  was  soon  found,  but  in 
small  force,  and  retreated  as  our  army  advanced.  This  continued  about 
four  miles  till  Proctor's  Creek  was  reached.  Here  night  stopped  the 
advance  and  the  pickets  of  the  two  armies  were  almost  within  speaking 
distance  from  each  other. 

The  men  rested  on  their  arms  that  night,  but  there  was  but  little 
sleep.  During  the  day  the  thermometer  had  dropped  rapidly  and  in- 
tense heat  had  given  way  to  cold,  and  then,  to  add  to  the  discomfort, 
rain  fell  all  night,  chilling  the  men  through.  No  fire  was  allowed  for 
that  would  draw  the  fire  of  the  enemy. 

The  next  day  the  enemy  continued  to  fall  back  as  they  were  pressed 
by  our  troops,  but  fighting  all  the  way  till  the  Relay  House  was  reached. 
This  house  was  on  the  turnpike  about  half  way  between  Richmond  and 
Petersburg  and  about  the  same  distance  from  Bermuda  Hundred.  Here 
the  boys  were  revived  by  the  cheering  news  that  Grant  had  captured 
six  thousand  prisoners  with  forty  guns. 

On  the  14th,  occurred  the  battle  of  the  Relay  House,  which  ended 
in  the  capture  of  a  fort  by  the  Union  Army.  Here  the  12th  Regiment 
lost  one  man  killed,  one  mortally  wounded,  and  several  seriously 
wounded. 

Two  days  later  occurred  the  battle  of  Drury's  Bluff.  The  enemy's 
defences  after  the  fight  at  the  Relay  House  were  abandoned  by  General 


PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   THIRTY-EIGHT 


Beauregard,  and  he  retreated,  slowly  and  cautiously,  followed  by  the 
Union  troops.  As  the  scene  of  the  battle  was  reached,  the  12th  Regi- 
ment came  in  sight  of  an  earth-work,  a  fort,  of  the  enemy.  The  guns 
within  the  works  were  busy  in  checking  the  advance  of  the  Union 
troops  from  another  direction  and  did  not  notice  the  advance  of  the 
12th.  This  was  taken  advantage  of  by  the  12th,  and  the  boys  made  a 
rapid  approach  till  a  clearing  was  reached.  Then  their  presence  was 
discovered,  and  two  howitzers  opened  fire  upon  them  with  shell  and 
shrapnel.  Fortunately  the  gunners  of  the  enemy,  in  the  excitement  of 
the  moment,  miscalculated  the  distance  of  the  assaulting  party  and  shot 
over  their  heads.  Shot  after  shot  was  fired  with  the  same  result,  the 
12th  boys  pressing  on  and  the  gunners  lowering  their  pieces,  each  time 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  the  heads  of  the  advancing  party.  Finally 
one  shell  exploded  in  Company  G,  and  nine  men  suddenly  ceased  their 
advance  and  lay  upon  the  ground,  one  dead.  The  regiment  advanced, 
but  before  the  works  were  reached  the  enemy  evacuated  their  position 
and  took  refuge  in  another  earthwork,  or  fort,  called  Fort  Stevens,  and 
continued  the  fight.  Our  artillery  concentrated  its  fire  upon  this  fort, 
and  in  the  engagement  that  followed,  the  colors  of  the  enemy  were 
twice  shot  away. 

On  the  afternoon  of  this  day  occurred  an  incident  that  might  have 
been  of  far-reaching  result,  had  our  boys  known  the  facts  at  the  time. 
Jefferson  Davis,  the  president  of  the  so-called  Southern  Confederacy, 
had  left  Richmond  that  day  for  a  conference  with  Beauregard.  Not 
knowing  that  the  southern  troops  had  fallen  back  so  far,  he  came  near 
riding  into  the  Union  lines.  Had  his  presence  been  known,  our  troops 
could  easily  have  swung  round  and  captured  him  before  he  had  time 
to  retire. 

While  the  Union  troops  occupied  this  advanced  position,  the  wires 
of  the  telegraph  line  between  Petersburg  and  Richmond  were  put  to 
good  use  as  an  impediment  in  a  later  assault  made  by  the  enemy  on 
our  line.  Lieut.  A.  W.  Bartlett,  with  a  small  detail  of  men,  cut  the 
wire  from  the  poles  and  stretched  it  from  stump  to  stump  about  a  foot 
above  the  ground  and  hastily  covered  it  with  brush.  Two  lines  of  this 
wire  were  thus  placed,  and  then  our  men  lay  partially  protected  behind 
logs  and  stones.  They  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  soon  the  expected 
assault  of  the  enemy  came.  They  advanced  in  good  order  till  they 
struck  the  unseen  wire,  when  scores  went  down  and  the  line  was  thrown 
into  confusion.  Then  the  12th  opened  fire  upon  them  with  great  slaugh- 
ter, and  the  advance  was  checked  in  their  immediate  front.  Unfortu- 
nately, there  was  nothing  to  protect  the  other  portions  of  the  Union 
line  on  the  right  and  left,  and  the  whole  army  was  ordered  to  retreat. 
The  12th  felt  entirely  able  to  hold  its  position  and  obeyed  the  order 
with  great  reluctance. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  THIRTY-NINE 


Previous  to  the  order  to  retreat,  the  battle  raged  extremely  hot  at 
the  right  of  ground  occupied  by  the  12th.  A  battery  was  made  the 
especial  mark  of  attack  by  the  enemy,  and  sharp-shooters  killed  nearly 
all  the  horses  and  many  of  the  men;  and  those  left,  including  one  or 
two  officers,  sought  shelter  in  the  rear.  At  this  point  Capt.  Bedee  of 
Co.  G  and  Lieut.  J.  W.  Saunders,  of  Co.  C,  with  eight  or  ten  men,  took 
possession  of  the  abandoned  guns  and  worked  them  to  good  effect  upon 
the  enemy.  For  their  part  in  this  affair,  Lieut.  Saunders  was  compli- 
mented in  general  orders,  while  Capt.  Bedee  was  ordered  before  Gen- 
eral Butler,  where  he  met  two  of  the  officers  of  the  battery  who  had 
entered  a  complaint  to  the  general  because  of  the  vigorous  language 
the  captain  had  used  at  them  because  of  their  skulking.  The  captain 
admitted  the  charge,  but  explained  the  reason,  upon  which  the  general 
informed  the  officers  of  the  battery  that  they  could  prefer  charges 
against  Capt.  Bedee  if  they  wished  for  not  addressing  them  as  their 
rank  demanded.     No  charges  were  preferred. 

For  five  days,  the  12th  Regiment  had  been  in  the  front  line  of  battle 
and  every  day  under  fire  and  were  consequently  greatly  exhausted. 
It  lost  two  killed,  twenty-nine  wounded  and  three  missing.  At  this 
time  they  were  in  sight  of  Richmond  and  only  eight  miles  distant  from 
that  city.  The  enemy  had  evidently  suffered  heavily  and  did  not  at- 
tempt to  follow  up  its  advantages  and  the  Union  army  had  rest  for  a 
few  days.  The  fact,  however,  that  the  Union  army  had  failed  in  its 
advance  movement  had  a  very  depressing  effect  upon  the  men,  espec- 
ially as  news  came  that  Grant's  advance  north  of  Richmond  had  caused 
Lee  to  retreat  across  the  North  Anna  river.  The  boys  were  willing  to 
fight  if  they  could  only  see  their  efforts  well  directed  and  successful  as 
they  should  have  been. 

On  the  28th  of  May,  1864,  the  18th  Corps  and  two  divisions  of  the 
10th  Corps  were  detached  from  the  army  of  the  James  and  sent  to  re- 
enforce  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  The  troops  marched  to  City  Point 
on  the  James  river  and  then  embarked  on  transports  for  White  House 
landing  on  the  Pamunky  river.  The  point  of  embarking  was  perhaps 
twenty  miles  south  east  of  Richmond  on  the  James;  their  destination 
was  about  the  same  distance  northeast  of  Richmond,  on  the  Pamunky, 
and  a  march  of  perhaps  thirty  miles  from  one  point  to  the  other  would 
have  covered  the  distance.  But  the  territory  between  the  two  points 
was  held  by  the  enemy  and  so  could  not  be  crossed,  so  the  transports 
made  their  way  down  the  James  river  into  Chesapeake  bay,  thence  up 
the  bay  into  the  York  river,  thence  into  the  Pamunky  river  to  White 
House,  a  distance  in  all  of  about  150  miles. 

The  troops  arrived  at  White  House  about  noon  the  next  day. 
Here  General  Griffin  A.  Steadman,  Jr.,  took  command  of  the  brigade 
in  which  was  the   12th   Regiment.     Here  the  troops  remained  till   the 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FORTY 


afternoon  of  the  second  day,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  ammunition.  They 
then  took  up  the  line  of  march  and  proceeded  in  haste  till  about  10 
o'clock,  when  it  went  into  bivouac  three  miles  from  New  Castle  on  the 
Pamunky  river.  The  march  was  a  hot  and  dusty  one  of  about  fifteen 
miles.  The  next  morning  a  forced  march  of  several  miles  was  made, 
when  a  mistake  in  orders  was  discovered  and  the  troops  counter- 
marched to  where  they  started  from,  and  then  commenced  the  march  for 
Cold  Harbor  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  behind  the  6th  Corps,  when 
the  heat  was  intense  and  the  dust  almost  unbearable.  Many  fell  out 
and  some  died  of  exhaustion  or  sunstroke. 

At  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  18th  Corps  reached  Cold  Harbor, 
and  there  joined  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  soon  became  engaged 
with  the  enemy.  While  the  12th  stood  awaiting  orders  to  advance, 
twenty  solid  shot  passed  between  its  ranks  and  that  of  the  148th  New 
York  regiment  without  doing  any  execution,  when  the  brigade  includ- 
ing the  12th  advanced  and  lay  on  their  arms  in  the  woods  all  night, 
ready  to  resist  an  expected  attack.  This  continued  during  the  following 
day,  and  night  again  settled  down  over  the  army  of  the  Potomac — the 
last  night  on  earth  to  many  a  brave  man. 

Cold  Harbor 

We  now  come  to  the  terrible  slaughter  at  Cold  Harbor,  where  our 
boys  were  slain  without  any  compensating  advantage.  No  wonder 
General  Grant  says  in  his  Memoirs,  "I  have  always  regretted  that  the 
last  assault  at  Cold  Harbor  was  ever  made.  No  advantage  whatever 
was  gained  to  compensate  for  the  heavy  loss  we  sustained.  Indeed 
the  advantages  other  than  those  of  relative  losses  were  on  the  Confed- 
erate side."  The  hopelessness  of  the  situation  and  the  terrible  loss  sus- 
tained, with  its  attendant  suffering,  was  another  Fredericksburg,  though 
on  a  smaller  scale.  The  enemy  was  strongly  entrenched  in  a  semi- 
circle, one  of  the  hardest  positions  possible  to  assail.  If  a  mistake 
was  made  by  the  commander-in-chief  in  ordering  the  assault,  another 
was  made  in  the  way  in  which  the  assault  was  made.  The  12th  Regi- 
ment led,  massed  in  five  lines  of  two  companies  each,  and  this  forma- 
tion was  persisted  in  against  the  emphatic  protests  of  Col.  Barker,  the 
regimental  commander.  When  too  late  the  mistake  in  the  formation 
was  admitted.  As  the  Union  troops  advanced,  the  enemy  opened  on 
them  at  close  range  with  grape  and  canister  and  musketry,  and  in  less 
than  ten  minutes  nearly  one-half  of  the  advancing  troops  lay  dead  or 
wounded  upon  the  field.  The  discharge  was  so  sudden  and  so  awful  in 
its  effects  that  whole  platoons  went  down  like  grass  before  the  scythe. 
Those  unhurt  heard  no  voice  and  saw  so  many  of  their  comrades  fall 
that  they  thought  an  order  had  been  given  to  lie  down. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED   FORTY-ONE 


The  battle  had  been  brief  but  terrible,  and,  when  it  ceased,  our 
dead  and  wounded  lay  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  enemy's  lines. 
Though  the  battle  was  over,  there  was  no  cessation  of  hostilities  for 
five  days,  and  during  all  this  time  no  assistance  was  rendered  those 
unable  to  crawl  from  the  field,  except  such  as  was  given  at  night,  and 
then  at  the  great  risk  of  the  rescuers.  Each  night  determined  men 
crawled  upon  the  field  and  brought  off  such  of  their  comrades  as  they 
could,  but  a  form  moving  in  the  darkness  or  a  noise  made  in  the  work 
of  humanity  was  sure  to  draw  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  Many  of  the 
wounded  were  again  wounded  and  some  killed,  as  they  lay  exposed  on 
the  ground;  and  it  was  reported  at  the  time,  and  generally  believed, 
that  the  rebel  soldiers  amused  themselves  in  firing  at  those  still  living, 
and  even  at  the  dead.  There  may  have  been  instances  of  this  kind,  but 
on  the  whole  the  southern  soldiers  were  as  humane  as  the  northern, 
and  these  cases  were  probably  more  apparent  than  real.  It  was  sup- 
posed at  the  time  that  no  efforts  were  made  for  a  cessation  of  hostilities 
for  the  purpose  of  caring  for  the  dead  and  wounded,  but  it  is  now 
known  that  General  Grant  entered  into  negotiations  with  General  Lee 
two  days  after  the  battle,  but  that  two  days  were  consumed  in  the 
negotiations  so  that,  till  that  hour,  none  were  brought  from  the  field 
or  cared  for,  except  such  as  are  spoken  of  above. 

The  tales  of  suffering  endured  by  the  heroes  of  the  12th  Regiment 
on  that  field  and  the  deeds  of  heroism  performed  by  their  comrades 
for  their  rescue  would  fill  a  book,  and  we  must  content  ourselves  with 
brief  reference. 

As  night  came  on,  regardless  of  fatigue  or  want  of  sleep,  many  of 
the  survivors  of  the  12th  crept  onto  the  field  and  sought  to  find  among 
the  prostrate  forms  those  comrades  yet  alive.  Such  were  cautioned 
to  make  no  noise  lest  they  would  draw  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  and  they 
were  conveyed  on  blankets  or  stretchers  to  the  rear,  where  they  were 
tenderly  cared  for.  Thus  the  work  continued  for  three  nights,  till  the 
living  and  many  of  the  dead  were  removed.  On  the  fourth  night 
twenty-eight  of  the  dead  were  removed  and  buried  in  one  trench. 
Some  died  in  being  removed  from  the  field,  while  a  few,  though  fear- 
fully wounded,  recovered  sufficiently  to  return  to  their  homes,  while 
some  are  even  yet  alive.  Among  the  latter  is  Col.  Nat  Shackford, 
who  is  still  living  at  a  good  old  age,  vigorous  and  healthy.  Another 
was  William  B.  Welch  of  Co.  E,  who  died  of  his  wounds  in  Bristol 
nineteen  years  after  the  battle. 

A  Sterling  Soldier 

As  brilliant  as  was  the  record  of  the  12th,  none  were  more  con- 
spicuous for  cool,  determined  bravery  than  Comrade  Welch.     But  few, 


PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   FORTY-TWO 


if  any,  had  a  more  terrible  experience  from  wounds  received,  and  none 
have  suffered  more  intensely  for  nineteen  years,  as  the  result  of  their 
service,  than  he.  From  the  first  he  became  prominent  for  his  ready 
obedience  to  his  superiors,  and  the  alacrity  with  which  he  responded  to 
any  duty,  however  hazardous.  At  Fredericksburg,  Chancellorsville, 
Gettysburg,  Front  Royal,  Swift  Creek,  Drury's  Bluff,  and  other  engage- 
ments he  escaped  unscarred,  but  at  the  terrible  slaughter  at  Cold 
Harbor,  June  3,  1864,  when  charging  the  enemy's  works,  he  fell  within 
a  few  yards  of  the  breastworks,  with  a  terrible  wound  on  the  side  of 
his  head,  and  while  lying  insensible  or  unable  to  crawl  away,  he  was 
riddled  with  balls,  no  less  than  six  piercing  his  body.  Here  he  lay 
for  thirty-six  long  hours,  exposed  to  the  hot  rays  of  a  June  sun,  and 
when  at  last  he  was  carried  from  the  field  he  was  considered  so  far 
gone  that  it  was  useless  to  dress  his  wounds,  but  in  response  to  his 
earnest  entreaties,  he  was  placed  in  an  ambulance  and  carried  sixteen 
miles  over  rough  roads  to  Surgeon  Fowler's  quarters,  at  White  House 
Landing,  where  his  wounds  were  tenderly  dressed.  Contrary  to  all 
expectations,  after  a  few  months  in  the  hospital,  he  had  so  far  recovered 
that  he  returned  to  duty,  and  remained  on  duty  till  mustered  out  with 
his  regiment.  But  the  terrible  wounds  he  received  at  Cold  Harbor  un- 
dermined his  health  and  were  destined  to  do  their  work.  During  all 
these  years  he  was  a  great  sufferer.  Indeed,  few  have  had  little 
idea  of  the  intense  suffering  he  endured.  Those  who  knew  him 
best  sympathized  with  him  most.  At  his  funeral  Surgeon  H.  B.  Fowler, 
with  a  beautiful  eulogy,  said  of  him:  "As  a  private,  Comrade  Welch 
was  faultless — whether  in  bivouac  or  on  the  march,  at  dress  parade 
or  review;  whether  quiet  in  winter  quarters  or  in  the  battle  charge. 
When  shot  and  shell  fell  like  hail,  never  was  it  said  that  Comrade 
Welch  showed  the  white  feather.  Seldom  if  ever  at  roll  call  was  it 
said  of  him  'Excused  by  the  surgeon,'  until  he  received  his  terrible 
wounds  in  that  fearful  charge  at  Cold  Harbor,  when  one  half  of  his 
regiment  fell  in  less  than  ten  seconds.  With  what  his  comrades  sup- 
posed wounds  that  were  mortal,  he  managed  to  crawl  for  a  distance 
into  a  clump  of  bushes  and  there  lay  as  a  target  for  the  enemy  until  he 
received  six  wounds  more.  After  the  battle  he  was  brought  from  the 
field  and  lay  thirty-six  hours  without  having  his  wounds  dressed,  the 
surgeons  supposing  he  would  live  but  a  short  time;  at  last  he  said, 
'If  you  won't  dress  my  wounds,  in  God's  name  carry  me  to  my  sur- 
geon,' and  after  his  wounds  were  partially  dressed  he  was  carried  to 
White  House  Landing,  sixteen  miles,  in  an  ambulance,  and  although 
the  roads  were  rough  and  the  ride  tedious,  not  a  groan  was  heard  to 
escape  his  lips — always  hopeful  and  looking  on  the  bright  side  in  every 
emergency." 

Among  those   who   fell   in   this   terrible   struggle  at   Cold    Harbor 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED   FORTY-THREE 


was  my  warm  personal  friend,  Lieut.  Joseph  K.  Whittier,  of  Laconia. 
We  were  students  together  at  Tilton.  While  the  12th  Regiment  was 
encamped  at  Falmouth,  early  in  the  war,  eight  or  ten  of  the  former 
students  at  Tilton,  from  the  9th  and  12th  Regiments,  held  an  im- 
promptu reunion  in  my  tent.  The  conversation  was  largely  about 
home,  the  school  at  Tilton,  and  the  war.  Joe  was  a  natural  orator,  and 
he  dearly  loved  to  talk.  Our  company  was  reclining  on  the  ground 
in  my  hut,  or  seated  on  hard-tack  boxes,  when  Joe  stood  as  nearly  erect 
as  the  tent  would  allow  and  delivered  himself  substantially  as  follows: 
"Well,  boys,  I  feel  it  in  my  bones  that  I  am  going  to  live  to  see  this 
rebellion  crushed.  When  I  get  home  I  am  going  to  study  law,  and 
put  out  my  shingle  in  some  city  and  you  will  hear  from  me  later." 
Such  eloquence  brought  down  the  house  and  he  was  roundly  applau- 
ded. We  did  hear  from  Joe  later.  He  was  promoted  for  gallantry 
on  the  field  and  died  while  leading  his  company  in  this  assault.  As 
in  thousands  of  other  cases,  a  brilliant  life  was  given  to  his  country. 
Another  schoolmate  at  the  reunion  spoken  of  was  Joseph  P.  Whittier 
of  Gilford.     He  fell  at  Chancellorsville. 

On  the  11th  of  June,  1864,  after  being  for  ten  days  in  the  front  line 
of  battle  or  in  the  trenches,  the  12th  Regiment  was  relieved  and 
marched  a  short  distance  to  the  rear,  and  the  next  day  took  up  the 
line  of  march  for  White  House  landing.  There  they  embarked  on  two 
transports  and  returned  to  the  Army  of  the  James.  They  landed  at 
Bermuda  Hundred  and  Point  of  Rocks  on  the  James,  on  the  15th, 
and  soon  after  rejoined  the  18th  Corps,  which  was  already  in  motion 
for  Petersburg.  This  place  had  been  nearly  deserted  by  the  Confed- 
erate troops  to  meet  demands  for  help  in  more  exposed  positions  near 
by,  and  so  the  18th  Corps  was  again  moving  for  the  capture  of  the 
city,  but  again  it  was  too  late,  for  before  its  arrival  the  city  was  again 
occupied  by  rebel  troops,  and  so,  instead  of  capturing  the  city  by  an 
assault,  the  siege  of  Petersburg  began. 

Siege  of  Petersburg 

The  siege  of  Petersburg,  the  last  great  act  of  the  Civil  war,  ex- 
tended from  the  middle  of  June,  1864,  till  its  evacuation  the  first  of 
April,  1865.  During  all  this  time  the  experience  of  the  survivors  of 
the  12th  Regiment,  present  for  duty,  was  in  common  with  the  rest  of 
the  investing  army,  a  tale  of  privations,  of  constant  fighting  in  the 
trenches,  and  of  wounds  and  death  to  many  of  the  brave  boys  constitut- 
ing that  heroic  army. 

Immediately  after  its  return  to  the  Army  of  the  James,  the  12th 
Regiment  became  part  of  the  investing  forces  and  was  under  fire 
nearly  all  of  the  time  it  remained  at  the  front.     The  lines  of  the  two 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FORTY-FOUR 


armies  were  but  a  short  distance  apart,  and  the  approaches  were  slowly 
made,  for  every  foot  of  the  ground  was  stubbornly  contested.  From 
the  rifle  pits  made  when  the  siege  commenced,  a  few  Union  soldiers 
would  advance  a  short  distance  on  a  dark  night,  when  perhaps  the 
rain  would  be  falling  in  torrents,  and  while  lying  on  the  ground,  dig  a 
hole  with  tin  plates  or  other  implements  sufficiently  deep  during  the 
night  to  conceal  their  bodies  from  the  sharp  shooters  when  daylight 
appeared.  There  they  must  remain  during  the  following  day.  Their 
numbers  would  be  increased  the  following  night  by  others  with  pick 
and  spade  and  thus  the  night  work  would  be  carried  on  till  a  contin- 
uous rifle  pit  was  constructed.  And  here  the  boys  lived  day  and  night 
without  protection  from  the  burning  sun  or  drenching  rain,  until  by 
constant  work,  the  trench  was  made  deep  enough  and  broad  enough 
to  permit  a  shelter  of  boughs  to  be  constructed  or  a  hole  excavated 
called  boom  proofs,  sufficiently  large  to  shelter  the  boys.  In  spite  of 
constant  vigilance,  men  were  killed  or  wounded  every  day  by  sharp 
shooters,  who  were  constantly  on  the  watch  for  a  head  or  hand  that 
might  appear  above  the  earth,  if  only  for  a  moment.  In  time  these 
new  trenches  were  connected  with  the  old  by  cross  trenches,  some- 
times covered,  but  reliefs  to  those  in  the  outer  works  were  always  made 
at  night.  No  man  in  the  outer  works,  or  in  the  works  further  to  the 
rear,  was  safe  for  even  a  moment  if  within  sight  of  the  sharp  shooters. 

Such  life  as  this  was  varied  frequently  by  sallies  by  the  enemy, 
sometimes  in  great  force,  in  an  effort  to  break  the  Union  line,  and  then 
came  a  fierce  struggle  to  hold  the  line,  attended  with  great  loss  on 
both  sides. 

During  the  whole  time  of  the  siege,  the  batteries  and  siege  guws 
were  constantly  pounding  away  at  the  works  of  the  enemy.  This  was 
sometimes  continued  all  night,  and  it  was  rare  when  the  boys  were  not 
lulled  to  sleep,  or  disturbed  during  the  night,  with  the  roar  of  big  guns 
from  some  part  of  the  investing  lines.  And  yet  the  great  loss  from 
shot  and  shells  was  less  than  that  by  disease.  The  constant  exposure 
to  all  kinds  of  weather  and  the  impossibility  of  observing  even  ordinary 
sanitary  precautions,  told  fearfully  on  the  health  of  the  men,  and  large 
numbers  were  constantly  being  sent  to  the  hospitals  at  the  rear  and 
elsewhere. 

By  the  middle  of  July  the  regiment  was  reduced  to  115  guns. 

On  the  24th  of  July,  Chaplain  Ambrose,  while  at  the  front  attend- 
ing to  the  sick,  was  shot  by  a  sharp  shooter.  He  was  carried  to  the 
rear  and  died,  Aug.  19,  at  Fortress  Monroe.  Chaplain  Ambrose  was 
dearly  beloved  by  the  men  of  the  regiment,  because  of  his  spotless 
Christian  character  and  his  devotion  to  the  welfare  of  the  men.  He 
spared  not  himseli  in  his  efforts  to  serve  others.  When  he  received 
his  death  wound,  he  was  seeking  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the  sick 


PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   FORTY-FIVE 


at  the  front,  and  to  do  this  he  did  not  hesitate  to  expose  himself  to  the 
fatal  fire  of  the  sharp  shooters. 

The  30th  of  July  was  a  memorable  day,  for  then  a  rebel  fort  that 
had  been  mined  for  the  Union  forces  was  blown  up.  Lieut.-Col. 
Pleasants  of  the  48th  Penn.  Vols.,  who  had  had  large  experience  in 
the  mines  of  Pennsylvania,  conceived  the  idea  of  mining  one  of  the 
rebel  forts,  "Elliotts  Salient,"  blowing  it  up,  and,  in  the  confusion  re- 
sulting therefrom,  to  break  and  hold  a  portion  of  the  enemy's  line. 
This  fort  was  located  about  three  hundred  feet  from  our  front  line. 

A  tunnel  was  dug  the  300  feet  to  the  fort  named,  where  a  chamber 
was  made,  and  in  this  were  placed  eight  tons  of  powder.  This  was 
exploded  while  the  enemy  were  evidently  in  blissful  ignorance  of  any 
danger  from  this  source.  The  explosion  was  a  fearful  one.  The  en- 
tire fort  was  hurled  two  or  three  hundred  feet  into  the  air,  and  there 
was  left  in  its  place  a  hole  in  the  ground  thirty  feet  deep,  sixty  feet 
wide  and  nearly  one  hundred  long.  The  explosion  was  a  great  suc- 
cess. Of  those  occupying  the  fort  but  few  were  left  alive,  and  all  the 
Rebel  troops  in  that  vicinity  were  so  paralyzed  that  for  three  hundred 
yards  on  either  side  their  lines  were  deserted,  and  a  half  hour  elapsed 
before  they  were  rallied  to  make  any  resistance.  And  yet  in  spite  of 
all  this  the  grand  opportunity  of  advancing  and  breaking  the  enemv's 
line  was  lost  through  the  inefficiency  of  the  Union  general  in  charge 
of  the  assault.  Delay  in  grasping  an  opportunity  was  fatal  to  suc- 
cess, and  about  the  only  result  of  this  effort  was  the  loss  of  thousands 
of  brave  men  and  the  discouragement  and  depression  of  the  whole 
army  from  its  failure. 

This  event  made  a  deep  impression  on  both  armies,  for  both  sides 
thought  the  ground  under  them  was  being  honeycombed  by  mining 
operations  of  the  enemy.  As  illustrating  the  nervousness  of  both 
armies,  an  incident  that  occurred  Aug.  5th  may  be  mentioned.  A  loud 
explosion  was  heard  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  which  was  caused 
by  the  explosion  of  a  Rebel  magazine.  Each  side  thought  one  of 
their  forts  had  gone  up,  and  rushed  to  arms,  and  lively  cannonading 
ensued.  The  brigade  in  which  was  the  12th  Regiment  was  at  once 
ordered  to  the  front  amid  a  shower  of  shells,  and  many  men  were 
lost,  including  the  brigade  commander,  General  Steadman.  One  shell 
exploded  between  Col.  Barker,  the  commander  of  the  12th,  and  Capt. 
Bedee,  who  stood  within  twenty  feet  of  each  other,  but  neither  was 
injured.  A  similar  excitement  occurred  on  the  9th,  caused  by  the  ex- 
plosion of  two  barges  at  City  Point  loaded  with  ammunition.  Many 
were  killed  or  wounded.  Every  day  brought  excitement  of  some  kind, 
and  all  nerves  were  constantly  keyed  to  a  high  pitch.  The  next  day, 
there  was  a  terrific  shelling  from  the  works  of  the  enemy  in  the  imme- 
diate front  of  the  12th,  and  the  regiment  sprang  to  arms  to  repel  an 


PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED    FORTY-SIX 


expected  assault,  when  the  shelling  should  cease.  The  assault  did 
not  come,  and  the  12th  suffered  no  loss  from  the  shelling,  but  that 
afternoon  Geo.  F.  Sanborn  of  Co.  G,  was  wounded  by  a  sharp  shooter. 

But  a  day  of  relief  came  at  last  for  the  few  yet  remaining  in  the 
ranks  of  the  12th  Regiment.  On  the  25th  of  August,  the  regiment  was 
withdrawn  from  the  rifle  pits  before  Petersburg  and  sent  to  Bermuda 
Front.  Since  the  15th  of  June  the  regiment  had  been  in  the  trenches 
almost  constantly  under  fire,  and  so  their  removal  to  a  less  exposed 
position,  where  some  needed  rest  could  be  had,  was  joyously  wel- 
comed by  all.  The  march  to  their  old  camping  ground  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Appomattox  was  a  short  one,  but  the  day  was  excessively 
hot,  and,  weak  from  overwork  as  the  boys  were,  they  were  completely 
worn  out,  so  when  a  halt  was  called,  they  threw  themselves  on  the 
ground  to  rest  before  any  attempt  was  made  to  prepare  a  camp  for 
their  short  stay  there.  At  this  time  the  rank  and  file  numbered  only 
about  one  hundred,  and  only  a  few  of  the  commissioned  officers  re- 
mained. 

After  resting  for  two  days,  a  camp  was  regularly  laid  out,  for  here 
the  boys  expected  to  remain.  The  quarters  of  the  men  were  made  of 
uniform  size,  ten  feet  long  by  four  wide,  and  the  walls,  made  of  logs 
with  the  crevices  filled  with  mud,  were  four  feet  high,  on  the  tops  of 
which  were  placed  the  shelter  tents  for  roofs.  In  the  rear  of  each  on 
the  outside  was  constructed  a  chimney,  made  of  the  same  material  as 
the  walls.  In  each  of  these  huts  were  comfortably  quartered  four 
men.  Not  content  with  making  for  themselves  comfortable  quarters 
inside,  they  graded  and  improved  the  company  streets  and  the  parade 
ground,  and  thus  again  established  their  old  reputation  of  having  the 
best  and  most  comfortable  quarters  of  any  regiment   of   their   corps. 

While  the  regiment  was  sent  here  primarily  for  rest,  they  relieved 
other  troops  which  took  their  places  at  the  front  and  had  light  duties 
each  day  to  perform.  They  went  regularly  on  picket,  and  were  con- 
stantly on  duty  as  guard  on  the  river,  which  was  the  line  between  the 
two  contending  armies. 

The  relations  between  the  men  of  the  two  armies  were  most  cor- 
dial, and  the  river  and,  indeed,  both  banks  of  the  stream  were  neutral 
ground.  The  men  bathed  together  and  fraternized  on  both  banks. 
These  things  were  not  allowed  by  the  Confederate  officers,  but  could 
not  well  be  prevented.  One  day  several  of  our  boys  were  on  the  Con- 
federate side  of  the  stream  enjoying  a  game  of  cards  with  the  Johnnies 
when  a  mounted  Confederate  officer  suddenly  appeared.  Our  boys  had 
no  time  to  escape  and  supposed  they  would  be  made  prisoners,  but 
some  of  the  Johnnies  were  equal  to  the  occasion  and  quickly  threw 
some  blankets  over  their  shoulders,  and  the  game  went  on  till  the 
officer  rode  away. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FORTY-SEVEN 


While  in  this  camp  the  paymaster  came  and  paid  the  boys  for  six 
months  of  service,  and  the  sutler  reaped  a  rich  harvest,  for  the  pittance 
that  the  boys  received  was  freely  spent  for  the  few  luxuries  that  the 
sutler  had  to  offer. 

On  the  15th  of  September,  Col.  Potter,  who  had  been  absent  from 
the  regiment  since  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville,  May  3,  1863,  when  he 
was  badly  wounded,  returned,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  regiment,  and  at 
once  assumed  command  of  the  brigade,  of  which  the  12th  was  a  part. 

But  the  hope  of  a  long  stay  in  their  new  quarters  was  soon  dashed 
to  the  ground,  for  on  the  20th  of  September,  after  less  than  a  month  of 
"rest,"  came  an  order  to  move,  and  the  regiment  marched  two  miles 
towards  Bermuda  Landing.  The  boys  left  their  comfortable  quarters 
with  keen  regrets. 

Arriving  at  the  new  encampment,  Col.  Potter's  command  was  de- 
tached from  the  18th  Army  Corps  and  made  the  nucleus  of  a  pro- 
visional brigade  for  the  instruction  of  recruits,  mostly  short  term  men, 
who  were  arriving  in  large  numbers.  Here  he  soon  had  a  brigade  of 
nine  regiments,  and  selected  a  staff  commensurate  with  his  command. 
He  selected  several  of  his  staff  from  the  12th  Regiment — Capt.  Heath, 
who  was  appointed  assistant  inspector  general;  Capt.  J.  W.  Johnston, 
who  was  made  assistant  provost  marshal;  Capt.  J.  H.  Prescott,  as 
aide-de-camp;  and  Capt.  E.  E.  Bedee. 

Here  again  comfortable  quarters  were  made,  but  on  the  28th,  the 
brigade  was  ordered  forward  to  take  the  place  of  the  18th  Corps,  which 
had  moved  across  the  James  river.  Here  the  regiment  was  again  on 
the  front  line,  and  they  entered  quarters  just  vacated  by  the  13th  Regi- 
ment, N.  H.  Vols. 

The  next  day  occurred  the  battle  of  Fort  Harrison,  when  a  portion 
of  the  rebel  line  was  captured  and  held  against  desperate  efforts  of  the 
enemy  to  retake  it.  The  whole  of  the  regiment  was  not  engaged  in 
this  fight,  but  a  portion  of  its  men  were  used  as  skirmishers  and  sharp 
shooters.  As  sharp-shooters  they  did  effectual  work  in  picking  off 
the  artillerymen  and  silencing  the  batteries.  The  12th,  however, 
worked  with  the  spade,  after  the  battle,  to  strengthen  the  works  so  as 
to  prevent  recapture  by  the  enemy.  Then  it  engaged  with  pick  and 
spade  in  constructing  a  new  line  of  works  between  the  fort  and  the 
river,  which  occupied  several  days.  Here  the  boys  worked  in  the  rain 
and  in  a  constant  shower  of  shells  thrown  at  them  from  the  rebel  gun- 
boats on  the  river.  Again  the  regiment  occupied  the  trenches,  and  this 
time  to  the  right  of  Fort  Harrison,  but  almost  immediately  it  was 
ordered  to  report  to  the  3d  brigade  of  the  first  division,  which  was 
commanded  by  former  Capt.  Barker  of  the  12th,  now  lieutenant-colonel. 

Oct.  9,  the  regiment  extended  its  line  so  as  to  relieve  the  third 
division,  and  a  few  hours  later  moved  still  further  to  the  right  to  the 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FORTY-EIGHT 


rear  of  the  10th  Corps,  and  during  the  night,  in  a  cold  rain  storm,  re- 
lieved a  portion  of  this  corps  then  in  the  trenches.  A  few  hours  later 
another  order  came.  This  time  Col.  Barker  was  ordered  to  report  to 
Col.  Potter  on  the  Bermuda  Front,  and  so  again  the  regiment  was  be- 
tween the  James  and  the  Appomattox  rivers,  and  under  the  command 
of  their  old  colonel. 

While  here,  twice  in  one  night,  the  long  roll  was  sounded  for  the 
boys  to  fall  in  to  repel  an  expected  attack  of  the  enemy,  but  the  firing 
proved  to  be  that  of  the  rebel  picket  line,  firing  at  deserters  who  were 
leaving  their  ranks  for  the  Union  lines.  Such  was  the  discontent 
among  the  confederates  and  the  desire  for  the  war  to  close  that  vast 
numbers  were  constantly  deserting.  General  Grant  in  his  Memoirs 
estimated  that  the  loss  about  this  time  from  all  the  Confederate  armies 
from  desertions  alone,  amounted  to  one  regiment  a  day. 

The  victory  of  Sheridan  in  the  Shenandoah  valley  over  Early  was 
celebrated  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and  the  Army  of  the  James 
by  a  hundred  guns  each,  loaded  with  shot  and  shell,  and  discharged 
against  the  enemy. 

In  the  presidential  election  of  Nov.,  1864,  the  soldiers  in  the  field 
were  allowed  to  vote.  The  result  in  the  12th  Regiment  was  eighty-six 
for  Lincoln  and  thirty-nine  for  McClellan.  This  was  a  larger  vote  for 
McClellan  than  in  any  other  New  Hampshire  regiment  except  the  10th, 
which  was  largely  Irish.     This  gave  a  majority  for  McClellan. 

From  the  above,  an  idea  may  be  obtained  of  the  daily  routine  at 
the  front  during  the  siege  of  Petersburg.  On  the  17th  of  November, 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  happened.  The  12th  was  on  picket. 
At  their  right  and  left  on  the  line  were  raw  troops.  The  line  was 
attacked  by  a  small  force  of  the  enemy,  and  the  raw  troops  at  once 
fell  back.  Through  this  break  the  enemy  gained  a  position  in  the 
rear  of  the  12th  boys,  and  fifty  or  more  officers  and  men  of  the  12th 
were  captured.  Capt.  E.  E.  Bedee,  who  went  out  to  ascertain  what 
the  trouble  was,  was  also  captured. 

Among  those  captured  were  Sergt.  Albert  W.  Bacheler  of  Co.  E, 
and  Benjamin  B.  Thompson  of  Co.  K.  They  escaped  from  Libby 
prison  Dec.  12,  and,  after  eight  days  and  nights  of  perilous  adventure, 
succeeded  in  reaching  our  lines. 

On  Thanksgiving  day  this  year,  the  Twelfth  Regiment,  in  com- 
mon with  other  New  Hampshire  troops,  received  from  friends  in  New 
Hampshire  a  liberal  supply  of  turkeys,  chickens  and  other  supplies 
that  sent  cheer  to  the  hearts  of  the  boys  battling  for  their  country  in 
Virginia. 

On  the  3d  of  December,  the  regiment  was  again  moved  to  the 
north  side  of  the  James  river.  Here  for  the  third  time  they  com- 
menced  to   build   winter   quarters.     The   new    encampment    was    upon 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FORTY-NINE 


Chapin's  farm  within  seven  miles  of  Richmond.  The  boys  were  kept 
busy  with  drills,  picket  duty,  inspections  and  various  duties,  but  there 
was  little  fighting  on  the  north  side  of  the  James.  That  was  mostly 
confined  to  the  trenches  about  Petersburg. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  at  this  encampment,  the  boys  expended 
$246  of  their  hard  earned  money  in  the  purchase  of  a  fine  sword,  belt 
and  sash,  and  spurs,  which  were  presented  to  Col.  Barker. 

The  regiment  at  this  time  was  in  camp  near  Butler's  famous 
Dutch  Gap  canal.  Fort  Darling,  a  strong  Confederate  fort,  stood  at 
the  north  end  of  a  long  detour  in  the  James  river,  and  commanded  the 
river  so  effectually  that  no  Union  gun  boats  dared  attempt  the  passage. 
A  few  miles  south  of  this  fort,  the  river  above  Fort  Darling  came  so 
near  the  river  below,  that  General  Butler  conceived  the  idea  of  cutting 
a  canal  from  one  point  to  the  other,  thus  enabling  our  gun  boats  to  visit 
Richmond  without  passing  Fort  Darling.  The  idea  seemed  reasonable 
enough,  except  to  professional  engineers,  who  made  it  the  butt  of  ridi- 
cule, and  all  the  money  and  labor  expended  amounted  to  nothing.  It 
was  on  Christmas  day,  1864,  while  the  12th  was  encamped  at  Chapin's 
farm,  that  the  last  explosion  was  made  on  the  canal  and  its  bulkhead 
removed,  uniting  the  stream  above  with  the  stream  below.  Water 
flowed  through  the  gap,  but  not  in  sufficient  volume  to  float  a  rowboat, 
and  no  further  work  was  done  on  this  famous  canal. 

At  the  time  work  was  being  prosecuted  on  this  undertaking,  and 
a  date  frequently  set  when  it  would  be  completed,  a  general  court  mar- 
tial was  convened  of  Regular  army  officers  by  General  Butler  to  try 
an  enlisted  man  of  the  Regular  army.  Butler  had  some  of  the  Regular 
army  troops  in  his  command,  and  an  enlisted  man  of  this  branch  of  the 
service  could  only  be  tried  by  officers  of  the  same  branch.  The  court 
found  the  man  guilty,  and  sentenced  him  to  three  years  hard  labor  on 
the  Dutch  Gap  canal.  The  findings  of  the  court  were  sent  up  to  But- 
ler for  approval,  but  he  promptly  dissolved  the  court  and  ordered  the 
discharge  of  the  man. 

Early  in  January,  Butler  was  removed  from  his  command,  and  no 
further  work  was  done  on  the  canal.  General  Gibbon  succeeded  Butler. 
General  Potter  became  chief  of  staff  of  General  Gibbon,  and  Lieut.-Col. 
Birney,  of  the  9th  Vermont,  succeeded  Potter  as  brigade  commander. 
The  first  day  of  his  command,  General  Gibbon  had  a  corps  review,  and 
while  this  was  in  progress,  he  received  word  that  Fort  Fisher  had 
fallen  into  our  hands  with  over  1,000  prisoners  of  war.  This  was  a 
fort  on  the  coast  in  North  Carolina,  which  Butler  had  been  sent  to 
take  a  few  weeks  before,  but  returned  without  making  the  attempt, 
although  the  fort  was  but  weakly  garrisoned.  Now,  after  being  heavily 
reenforced,    it    had    been    taken    by    General    Terry.     This    news    was 


PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   FIFTY 


promptly  communicated  to  the  corps  and  was  received  with  much 
enthusiasm  by  the  men. 

Just  above  Dutch  Gap,  the  Union  forces  had  placed  obstructions 
in  the  James  to  prevent  the  gun  boats  of  the  enemy  from  going  below 
that  point.  On  the  night  of  the  23d,  our  boys  were  aroused  from  their 
slumbers  by  heavy  firing,  which  proceeded  from  their  gun  boats  at 
this  point.  They  made  a  vigorous  effort  to  pass  the  obstructions  with 
three  iron-clad  rams,  five  armored  steamers  and  three  torpedo  boats,  and 
proceed  down  the  river  and  destroy  the  depot  of  supplies  at  City  Point. 
This  was  a  dismal  failure,  and  the  fleet  later  in  the  day  withdrew, 
leaving  one  ram  so  firmly  grounded  that  it  could  not  be  moved. 

As  the  winter  wore  away,  it  became  more  and  more  evident  that 
the  days  of  the  Confederates  were  numbered,  and  the  spirits  of  the 
boys  rose  as  they  daily  saw  fresh  evidence  that  all  their  sufferings  and 
privations  were,  after  all  the  blunders  and  incapacity  of  some  high  in 
command,  soon  to  result  in  the  complete  success  of  our  arms. 

Fall  of  Richmond 

The  first  days  of  April,  1865,  saw  the  Union  army  frenzied  with 
joy  at  the  fall  of  Richmond.  On  Sunday,  April  2,  the  advances  of  the 
army  around  Petersburg  had  made  the  position  of  the  Rebel  army 
untenable,  and  Jefferson  Davis  was  so  informed  while  at  church  in 
Richmond,  and  the  evacuation  of  the  city  at  once  commenced. 

On  the  early  morning  of  the  3d,  our  army  advanced,  only  to  find 
the  works  of  the  Confederates  deserted.  Then  commenced  a  wild 
rush  of  the  Union  troops,  or  of  many  of  them,  that  they  might  be  the 
first  to  enter  Richmond  and  Petersburg.  It  is  not  our  purpose  to 
enter  into  the  controversy  as  to  which  of  the  Union  troops  first  reached 
Richmond,  but  it  appears  evident  that  some  of  the  12th  Regiment  boys 
were  among  the  first.  Capt.  Sargent  of  New  Hampton  and  Lieut. 
Bohonon,  a  Bristol  boy,  were  in  charge  of  the  picket  line  of  the  12th 
that  night,  and  the  latter  was  first  over  the  enemy's  works  in  their 
front.  The  main  detail  was  close  in  their  rear,  and  as  soon  as  the 
outer  line  of  fortifications  was  passed,  there  commenced  a  wild  race 
for  the  city,  not  in  military  order,  but  every  man  for  himself.  Corporal 
Newell  Davidson  of  Co.  G,  now  residing  in  Plymouth,  being  fleet  of 
foot,  was  the  first  to  enter  Richmond  by  the  road  that  the  12th  took, 
and  may  have  been  the  first  from  any  road. 

Pen  cannot  describe  the  scene  in  Richmond  when  our  troops 
entered.  Pandemonium  reigned.  As  the  city  was  being  evacuated,  the 
Rebel  army  set  fire  to  the  principal  buildings  and  store  houses,  and 
the  flames  spread  rapidly.  The  poor  and  lawless  elements  were  fight- 
ing for  bread  at  the  store  houses,  or  sacking  the  stores  for  plunder, 


PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED    FIFTY-ONE 


while  whisky,  which  ran  in  the  gutters  by  order  of  the  mayor,  was 
being  gathered  up  and  drunk  by  those  who  craved  it.  General  Weitzel, 
who  assumed  command  of  the  city  as  provost  marshal,  directed  his 
attention  to  extinguishing  the  flames  and  in  saving  most  of  the  city.  It 
would  seem  that  the  city  had  suffered  enough  from  its  occupation  for 
a  year  by  the  Confederate  forces  and  the  effect  of  the  siege,  and  that 
the  Confederate  government  would  have  desired  to  save  the  city, 
especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that  its  destruction  could  not  aid  what 
was  already  a  lost  cause.  It  may  be  that  the  fires  were  set  by  the  law- 
less, who  remained  in  the  city.  Who  the  real  authors  were,  we  think, 
has  never  been  established. 

General  Lee  succeeded  in  escaping  from  Richmond  with  his  army 
and  marching  southwest  till  he  reached  Appomattox,  but  while  on  this 
march  of  some  miles,  such  was  the  hopelessness  of  his  cause  that  his 
army  had  shrunk  by  desertions  from  50,000  to  25,000  men.  On  the 
9th  of  April,  at  Appomattox,  Lee  surrendered  to  Grant  the  army  of 
Virginia,  and  this  virtually  closed  the  war. 

The  12th  Regiment  was  not  numbered  among  the  troops  that  fol- 
lowed General  Lee  and  his  retreating  army.  It  remained  in  Richmond 
doing  provost  duty  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  when  it  crossed  the  river  and 
continued  this  duty  in  Manchester  till  May  19,  when  it  proceeded  to 
Danville,  150  miles  south,  going  by  train,  where  the  same  duty  was 
continued.  Col.  Barker  was  in  command  of  the  district  of  Danville 
and  vicinity. 

Here  the  duties  of  the  officers  and  men  were  arduous  and  trying — not 
in  fighting  or  making  long  marches  as  of  yore,  but  in  restoring  and 
preserving  order,  settling  differences  among  the  people,  administering 
the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  caring  for  the  many  cases  of  suffering  and 
want  among  both  whites  and  colored. 

On  the  21st  day  of  June,  1865,  the  12th  Regiment  was  mustered 
out  of  service,  and,  in  company  with  the  10th  and  13th  Regiments, 
N.  H.  Vols.,  embarked  on  the  steamer,  "State  of  Maine,"  at  Richmond, 
or  rather  Manchester,  across  the  James  from  Richmond.  They  had 
proceeded  from  Danville  by  rail.  After  a  brief  halt  at  Fortress  Monroe, 
the  boat  proceeded  to  New  York,  and  from  thence  to  Boston,  where 
it  arrived  on  the  25th.  There  they  took  the  train  for  home.  At 
Nashua  and  Manchester  ovations  were  given  the  boys  and  these  were 
repeated  at  Concord,  where  the  troops  were  to  be  paid  off  and  sent  to 
their  homes. 

The  next  day,  after  reaching  the  city,  the  troops  went  into  camp 
at  Camp  Gilmore,  where  muster-out  rolls  and  discharge  papers  were 
made  out.  While  this  was  being  done,  the  boys  were  at  liberty  to  go 
and   come   pretty   much   as   they   chose.     Their   arms   and   equipments 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED   FIFTY-TWO 


were  turned  in,  though  such  as  desired  were  allowed  to  purchase  their 
muskets  at  six  dollars  each. 

On  the  3d  of  July,  the  veterans  were  paid  off,  and,  after  nearly 
three  years  of  associations,  great  sufferings  and  privations  in  the  cause 
of  their  country,  they  clasped  hands,  bade  each  other  adieu,  and  dis- 
persed for  their  homes. 

With  the  good  feeling  that  so  happily  exists  today  between  the 
North  and  the  South  there  has  come  a  sentiment  that  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  states,  though  awful  in  its  extent,  was  not  of  very  much 
moment  after  all;  that  it  was  only  a  family  quarrel  that  happily  ended; 
that,  the  bitterness  ended,  the  two  sections  have  come  together,  under- 
standing each  other  better,  and  that  this  has  resulted  in  the  working 
together  of  the  people  and  the  consequent  prosperity  that  has  followed. 

This  is  but  a  superficial  survey  of  the  results  of  the  conflict.  It 
was  a  great  struggle  between  right  and  wrong,  and,  as  the  victories  of 
Charles  Martel  in  732  drove  back  the  Moslem  hordes  and  prevented  all 
Europe  from  becoming  Moslem  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  so  the  vic- 
tories of  the  Union  army  freed  the  nation  from  the  incubus  of  slavery 
and  threw  off  the  weight  that  hampered  her  prosperity,  and  made  it 
possible  for  the  nation  to  make  the  rapid  progress  she  has  since  made; 
and  so  the  people  of  today  are  enjoying  the  full  measure  of  the  re- 
sults of  that  struggle.  And  one  reason  that  the  people  of  the  South 
today  rejoice  in  the  outcome  of  that  war  is  because  they  see  that  the 
great  hindrance  to  their  advancement  has  been  removed. 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FIFTY-THREE 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  WESTERN  FRONTIER 

On  the  morning  when  I  bade  my  comrades  good-bye  at  Bermuda 
Hundreds,  I  went  to  the  landing  to  secure  passage  to  Fortress  Monroe. 
There  I  found  the  115th  N.  Y.  Vols,  disembarking,  and,  on  look- 
ing about  me,  I  found  my  brother  Abbott  standing  near  by.  I  passed 
two  or  three  hours  in  his  company — precious  hours  they  were,  and  the 
last  I  was  to  see  of  him.  The  booming  of  cannon  was  heard  in  the 
direction  of  Petersburg,  his  regiment  fell  in  and  I  bade  him  good-bye. 
He  did  good  service  in  the  campaign  then  opening,  and  three  months 
later,  while  carrying  the  colors  of  his  regiment  at  the  battle  of  Deep 
Bottom,  Va.,  he  was  shot  through  the  body,  and  died  on  the  field.  His 
last  words  were,  "Tell  my  friends  I  died  happy  and  died  for  my  coun- 
try." Corp.  Musgrove  was  the  flower  of  his  father's  family,  an  up- 
right, intelligent,  young  man  of  great  promise,  and  a  sincere  Christian. 
He  lived  long  enough  to  request  that  a  comrade  take  his  journal,  his 
testament  and  some  mementos  for  his  friends  at  home,  and  he  died 
with  the  words  quoted  above  on  his  lips.  His  remains  were  buried  on 
Chapin's  farm,  and  soon  after  the  war  an  effort  was  made  to  recover 
them  for  interment  in  the  family  lot,  but  the  only  information  that 
could  be  gathered  concerning  them  was  that  they  were  finally  trans- 
ferred to  the  Fort  Harrison  National  Cemetery  and  rested  among  the 
large  number  there  interred  with  a  marble  slab  at  the  head  of  the  grave 
marked  by  that  sadly  expressive  word,  "Unknown." 

On  Saturday,  May  7,  those  of  us  who  had  been  commissioned  in 
the  1st  Regiment,  U.  S.  Vols.,  from  the  12th,  succeeded  in  getting 
passage  on  the  steamer  "Thomas  Powell"  for  Fortress  Monroe,  and 
there  we  arrived  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon.  At  headquarters  we 
were  ordered  to  report  to  Norfolk,  where  the  1st  U.  S.  Volunteers  were 
in  camp.  At  the  fort,  from  my  scanty  hoard,  I  purchased  an  officer's 
blouse,  for  which  I  paid  $10,  and  threw  away  my  old  coat,  which  made 
me  feel  decidedly  more  respectable. 

At  that  time  a  boat  made  regular  trips  between  Fortress  Monroe 
and  Norfolk,  and  on  this  boat  I  took  passage  and  found  myself  in  Nor- 
folk about  9  p.  m.  I  at  once  reported  to  Col.  Dimond  in  command  of 
the  regiment,  and  was  assigned  to  Co.  D.  This  company  was  com- 
manded by  Capt.  Enoch  G.  Adams.     Capt.  Adams  was  recently  a  2d 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FIFTY- FIVE 


lieutenant  in  the  2d  Regiment,  and  I  was  somewhat  acquainted  with 
him  and  considered  myself  fortunate  in  being  assigned  to  duty  in  his 
company. 

The  men  of  this  regiment  were  enlisted,  as  before  stated,  from  pris- 
oners of  war  at  Point  Lookout,  who  had  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  United  States.  The  men  were  of  various  classes.  Many  were 
Unionists  from  North  Carolina,  who  had  been  forced  into  the  Confed- 
erate service,  and  were  now  glad  to  transfer  their  allegiance  and  fight 
under  the  old  flag.  Others  from  the  south  were  men  of  no  principle 
and  were  as  much  at  home  under  one  flag  as  the  other.  This  class  was 
augmented  by  foreigners,  who  found  themselves  by  force  of  circum- 
stances in  the  rebel  army  and  then  prisoners  of  war.  These  took  the 
oath  of  allegiance  and  enlisted  in  the  Union  army  to  better  their  con- 
dition, and,  as  soon  as  opportunity  offered,  some  deserted.  Eight 
companies  of  these  men  had  been  organized,  and  they  were  now  in 
camp  at  Norfolk  to  do  provost  duty  in  the  city.  Norfolk  was  one  of 
the  hotbeds  of  secession  in  Virginia,  but  was  now  occupied  by  federal 
troops,  and  was  practically  under  martial  law,  and  soldiers  with  mus- 
kets in  their  hands  performed  the  regular  police  duty  of  the  city. 

On  the  second  day  after  my  arrival  at  the  regiment,  I  served  as 
officer  of  the  day  at  the  encampment,  and  a  few  days  later  took  my 
turn  as  officer  of  the  city  guard.  As  the  posts  of  these  men  were 
widely  scattered  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  and  as  I  was  expected  to 
visit  all  at  some  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  the  duties  of  this  position 
were  very  arduous. 

At  this  time  Butler  was  south  of  Petersburg,  and  Grant  was  ad- 
vancing from  the  north  on  Richmond,  and  Norfolk  was  within  hearing 
distance  of  the  heavy  guns  of  both  armies.  Hardly  a  day  passed  but 
we  listened  to  the  booming  of  cannon — either  those  of  armies  in  the 
clash  of  battle,  or  at  target  practice  at  Fortress  Monroe,  or  of  guns  of 
the  navy.  At  Fortress  Monroe  there  was  much  of  the  time  a  practice 
of  rapid  firing  guns,  which  sounded  like  the  clash  of  infantry  near  at 
hand.  As  we  could  not  distinguish  the  character  of  the  firing,  we 
were  constantly  on  the  qui  vive  to  know  what  was  going  on  near  us, 
and  rumors,  though  not  always  reliable,  always  furnished  some  explan- 
ation. One  night  at  1  o'clock  we  were  called  into  line  in  double  quick 
time  for  the  reason  that  the  rebel  cavalry  was  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  city.  They  made  a  weak  attack  on  our  picket  line  and  then  re- 
tired. One  day  would  come  the  cheering  news  of  Grant's  successes, 
and  then  our  hearts  were  made  heavy  by  Butler's  reverses  and  retreat 
to  Bermuda  Hundreds.  He  did  not  attempt  to  enter  the  back  door  of 
Richmond  till  the  enemy  discovered  his  design  and  occupied  that  door, 
thus  shutting  him  out. 


PAGE  ONE   HUNDRED   FIFTY-SIX 


A  few  days  after  my  arrival  at  the  regiment,  another  detachment 
of  men  arrived  from  Point  Lookout.  I  was  placed  in  command  of 
these  men,  and  from  them  organized  Co.  I,  which  I  commanded  from 
that  time  on.  Franklin  Hedge,  a  man  in  middle  life,  who  was  a  neigh- 
bor of  Butler  at  Lowell  and  one  of  his  hangers-on  at  New  Orleans  when 
he  was  in  command  there,  was  given  a  commission  as  2d  lieutenant 
and  assigned  to  duty  under  me.  He  was  a  wood  engraver  before  the 
war  and  evidently  a  good  workman,  but  never  much  of  a  success  as  a 
soldier.  He  was  the  only  assistant  I  had,  and  when  his  services  were 
most  needed  he  failed  woefully.  Six  weeks  later,  or  to  be  exact,  Aug. 
13,  1864,  I  was  commissioned  captain  of  this  same  company.  Lieut. 
Hedge  was  allowed  to  remain  as  2d  lieutenant,  and  a  man  by  the  name 
of  David  B.  Wilson  was  appointed  to  succeed  me  as  first  lieutenant. 
This  man  served  his  entire  time  on  detached  service  and  I  never  met 
him,  though  I  bore  his  name  on  my  company  rolls  as  long  as  the  com- 
pany remained  in  the  service. 

While  in  camp  at  Norfolk  one  of  our  diversions  was  a  raid  into 
North  Carolina,  the  latter  part  of  July.  We  traveled  south,  a  part  of 
the  way  along  the  tow  path  of  the  Great  Dismal  Swamp  canal,  as  far 
south  as  Elizabeth  City,  N.  C.  There  we  remained  a  few  days.  While 
there  an  amusing  incident  happened.  A  schooner  came  down  the 
river  with  a  load  of  watermelons,  and  was  nearing  the  wharf,  when 
the  captain  discovered  Union  soldiers  there,  and  at  once  commenced 
to  swing  his  boat  into  the  stream  again  to  retire,  but  two  or  three 
muskets  leveled  at  him  induced  him  to  tie  up  to  the  wharf  as  he  had 
originally  intended.  The  cargo  was  confiscated  and  devoured  by  the 
boys  during  our  stay  there.  They  also  lived  high  on  poultry  and  the 
best  of  the  land.  One  day  I  took  a  stroll  on  one  of  the  streets,  and 
my  attention  was  attracted  to  a  church  with  the  windows  and  doors 
boarded  up.  A  deserted  church  was  no  cause  for  surprise,  but  why 
should  the  windows  and  doors  be  boarded  up?  The  whole  was  ex- 
plained by  hearing  a  rooster  crow  inside.  The  people  hearing  of  the 
approach  of  the  troops  had  hastily  turned  the  church  into  a  hencoop. 
I  really  had  sympathy  for  the  owners  of  those  birds.  The  boys  were 
not  suffering  for  food  and  so  I  said  nothing  of  my  discovery,  and  the 
people  probably  thought  they  fooled  the  Yankees  for  once. 

The  boys  visited  the  city  bank,  but  business  had  ceased  there. 
They  found,  however,  a  large  number  of  unsigned  bills,  some  of  the 
unusual  denominations  of  three,  four,  and  seven  dollars.  These  were 
appropriated  and  carried  away  as  relics.  Some  of  the  money  was 
passed  as  genuine  by  the  men  to  the  people  on  the  route  back  to  Nor- 
folk. The  real  fruit  of  the  raid  was  a  large  number  of  horses  and  mules 
and  many  bales  of  cotton,  which  were  turned  over  to  the  government 
at  Norfolk. 

PAGE    ONE   HUNDRED    FIFTY-SEVEN 


On  this  raid  we  passed  through  a  section  of  country  where  some 
of  the  men  of  the  regiment  had  been  raised,  and  some  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  return  to  their  old  homes;  at  least  there  were  several  deser- 
tions here.  It  was  apparent  to  any  observing  person  that  Norfolk  was 
no  place  for  this  regiment  to  be  quartered.  The  majority  of  the  citi- 
zens were  disloyal  and  sought  by  every  means  in  their  power  to  kindle 
what  dormant  love  for  the  south  existed  in  the  breast  of  any  of  the 
soldiers  into  a  flame,  and  some  were  enticed  to  desert.  The  government, 
therefore,  determined  to  send  this  regiment  to  Milwaukee  and  Chicago, 
where  a  draft  was  impending,  and  thence  to  the  western  frontier. 
Accordingly  on  the  11th  of  August,  we  got  orders  to  proceed  to  Chi- 
cago and  there  report  to  General  Pope.  There  was  general  satisfac- 
tion at  the  receipt  of  this  order,  and  the  regiment  numbered  full  ranks 
the  next  Monday  afternoon,  when  we  embarked  on  the  transport  Con- 
tinental Aug.  15,  for  New  York,  where  we  arrived  Wednesday  morn- 
ing following. 

Before  leaving  Norfolk  I  wired  my  brothers,  John  at  Bristol  and 
William  at  Cohoes,  N.  Y.,  to  meet  me  at  New  York,  but  the  telegrams 
failed  to  reach  them  and  I  was  denied  this  pleasure.  In  the  afternoon 
we  disembarked  and  marched  to  the  depot  of  the  Erie  road.  Thence 
we  were  ordered  to  the  depot  of  the  Hudson  River  road.  Arriving 
there,  no  train  was  ready  and  we  passed  the  night  in  the  city  and  did 
not  get  away  till  noon  the  next  day.  I  again  wired  my  brother  William 
to  meet  me  in  Albany,  but  we  passed  through  Troy  instead,  and  so  both 
my  efforts  in  this  direction  amounted  to  nothing.  I  passed  near  his 
residence  in  Cohoes,  but  that  was  all  the  satisfaction  I  got. 

From  New  York  we  proceeded  to  Buffalo,  thence  over  the  Lake 
Shore  to  Chicago.  The  trip  was  a  pleasant  one,  though  constant  vigi- 
lance was  necessary  on  the  part  of  the  officers  to  keep  strong  drink 
from  the  men.  In  New  York  City,  when  at  the  wharf  and  en  route  to 
the  stations,  the  men  were  not  allowed  to  leave  the  ranks,  yet  a  swarm 
of  pocket  peddlers  sold  whisky  in  bottles  to  the  men  in  spite  of  all 
that  could  be  done  to  prevent  it.  While  waiting  in  line  before  enter- 
ing the  station,  I  captured  one  of  these  men.  He  made  no  resistance 
as  I  worked  two  bottles  from  his  pockets  and  then  he  turned  to  run. 
I  threw  one  at  his  head,  which  struck  him  in  the  back  and  then  broke 
on  the  pavement  causing  a  round  of  applause  from  the  mass  of  spec- 
tators gathered  on  the  sidewalks.  At  every  station  in  New  York 
state,  whisky  was  sold  very  freely.  At  one  point  where  the  train 
stopped  there  were  but  four  houses  in  the  hamlet,  and  I  thought  it 
probable  that  no  liquor  was  sold  there,  but  I  soon  found  that  in  three 
of  these  buildings  there  was  a  licensed  saloon.  Boiling  with  indigna- 
tion, as  I  saw  the  whisky  traveling  in  bottles  to  the  train,  I  told  one 
of  the  proprietors  if  he  sold  any  more  whisky  to  my  men  I  would  tear 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  FIFTY-EIGHT 


his  shanty  down  over  his  head.  If  the  fellow  did  not  go  "into  the  air," 
he  fairly  foamed  with  rage,  and  stepping  to  his  desk  placed  a  gun  in 
his  pocket,  saying  he  paid  for  a  license  and  had  a  right  to  sell.  Just 
then  the  engine  bell  rang  and  hostilities  were  averted. 

Arriving  at  Chicago  Sunday  afternoon,  next  after  leaving  Norfolk, 
our  regiment  was  divided.  Six  companies  under  the  command  of  Col. 
Dimond  were  sent  via  St.  Louis  up  the  Missouri  to  Fort  Rice,  where 
is  now  Sioux  City.  From  there  one  company  went  as  far  north  as 
Fort  Benton,  at  the  headwaters  of  the  Missouri,  but  some  of  the  troops 
were  held  for  garrison  duty  at  Fort  Rice.  These  six  companies  were 
scattered  over  a  territory  of  one  thousand  miles. 

The  other  four  companies,  A,  F,  G,  and  I,  under  the  command  of 
Lt.  Col.  Wm.  Tamblyn,  were  sent  to  Milwaukee,  where  we  arrived 
during  Sunday  night,  and  bivouacked  for  the  remainder  of  the  night 
near  the  station.  After  breakfast  we  marched  to  Camp  Reno,  three 
miles  distant.  While  at  the  depot  the  men  were  able  to  procure 
whisky,  and  as  soon  as  they  reached  Camp  Reno,  they  filled  up  with 
beer  that  was  sold  without  limit,  and  the  mixing  of  these  two  beverages 
made  some  of  the  men  noisy  drunk.  Between  the  time  that  we  landed 
in  Chicago  and  the  time  we  arrived  at  Camp  Reno  I  lost  eight  men  by 
desertion,  a  part  at  least  by  reason  of  strong  drink.  The  men  evidently 
got  drunk,  and  some,  fearing  punishment,  did  not  return. 

After  two  days'  stay  at  Camp  Reno  in  Milwaukee,  I  was  ordered 
with  my  company  to  Madison,  Wis.,  there  to  report  to  Lt.  Col.  Wm. 
Chapman  at  Camp  Randall. 

As  I  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  Madison,  I  got  my  first  mail  from 
home  after  leaving  Norfolk,  Va.,  and  then  I  was  informed  of  the  death 
of  my  brother  Abbott.  He  had  fallen  in  battle  the  day  I  was  in  New 
York  City,  and  had  therefore  been  dead  a  month  when  the  news 
reached  me.  Although  such  news  was  likely  to  come  at  any  time,  the 
blow  was  a  hard  one,  and  the  wound  deep  and  severe. 

Camp  Randall  was  the  rendezvous  camp  for  Wisconsin  recruits, 
and  we  were  ostensibly  doing  guard  duty  there  as  were  the  other  com- 
panies at  Milwaukee,  but  we  were  really  there  to  respond  to  calls  from 
Chicago  or  Milwaukee  if  needed  in  expected  riots  attending  the  drafts, 
and  we  were  in  constant  readiness  to  march  with  a  liberal  supply  of 
ammunition. 

On  Monday,  Sept.  4,  I  got  orders  to  report  with  my  company  to 
General  Sibley  at  Fort  Snelling,  Minn.  I  started  the  next  day,  and  at 
Milton  Junction  met  Capt.  Strout  and  Co.  A  from  Milwaukee,  bound 
for  the  same  place.  We  arrived  at  La  Crosse  at  midnight,  Tuesday, 
and  there  remained  just  twenty-four  hours  before  we  found  a  boat 
going  up  the  river  large  enough  to  carry  our  two  companies,  in  addi- 


PAGE    ONE   HUNDRED    FIFTY-NINE 


tion  to  the  regular  freight  and  passengers.  At  La  Crosse,  I  lost  one 
man  by  drowning  and  one  by  desertion. 

From  Capt.  Strout  I  learned  that  an  order  for  my  promotion  to 
captain  had  been  issued,  but  I  did  not  receive  official  notice  till  some 
time  later. 

When  en  route  from  Camp  Randall  to  La  Crosse  I  inquired  of  the 
conductor  if  he  knew  a  conductor  by  the  name  of  Lewis  Rock. 
He  replied  that  that  was  his  name.  Lewis  Rock  was  one  of  the 
parties  engaged  in  the  school  episode  spoken  of  as  occurring  at 
the  old  red  schoolhouse  in  Bristol  village.  He  had  become  one  of  the 
substantial  citizens  of  this  part  of  the  country  and  later  was  superin- 
tendent of  the  Northern  Division  of  the  Chicago,  Milwaukee  and  St. 
Paul  railroad.  On  this  same  train  was  his  wife,  Mr.  Sanborn  and  wife, 
and   Calvin   Cass  of  Bristol,  and   I   spent  a  pleasant  hour  with   them. 

At  the  time  of  our  passage  up  the  river  the  water  was  low,  and  the 
small  stern-wheel  steamer  made  slow  progress,  being  three  days  to 
St.  Paul.  We  frequently  stopped  on  a  sandbar,  and  then  long  sheer- 
like poles  were  placed,  one  on  each  side  of  the  bow,  their  tops  together, 
at  which  pulley  blocks  and  a  rope  were  attached.  Then  the  crew  pro- 
ceeded to  raise  the  bow  into  the  air,  the  engine  started,  and  the  boat 
gave  a  lurch  forward.  This  process  was  repeated  till  the  bar  was 
crossed,  when  the  boat  proceeded  till  lanother  bar  was  struck,  and 
the  same  operation  again  took  place.  Sometimes  in  limbing  the  bar 
the  paddles  in  the  stern  wheel  were  broken,  and  then  after  crossing  the 
bar  the  boat  lay  to  till  new  paddles  could  be  put  in  place. 

We  arrived  at  St.  Paul  Saturday  afternoon,  and  after  drawing  ra- 
tions, of  which  we  were  very  short,  we  took  up  the  line  of  march  for 
Fort  Snelling,  where  we  arrived  about  midnight. 

Monday,  I  made  a  hasty  trip  to  Minneapolis  and  called  on  Isaac 
Cheney,  an  old  Tilton  schoolmate,  who  formerly  resided  at  Franklin 
Falls.  The  visit  was  a  reminder  of  other  and  more  happy  days  before 
war  came.  On  my  way  back  I  visited  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha,  and 
a  few  days  later  Friend  Cheney  and  some  of  his  Minneapolis  friends 
returned  the  call. 

Sept.  15,  Capt.  Strout  started  with  his  company  for  Fort  Ridgely, 
and  I  followed  the  next  day  with  my  company.  We  moved,  of  course, 
in  obedience  to  orders,  but  I  could  not  see  then,  and  have  not  been 
able  to  divine  since,  the  wisdom  that  did  not  allow  us  to  march  that 
one  hundred  ten  miles  together. 

I  arrived  at  Fort  Ridgely  on  Tuesday,  Sept.  21,  having  made  the 
one  hundred  ten  miles  via  Henderson  in  a  little  less  than  five  days. 
The  trip  was  uneventful,  except  for  a  chase  for  a  black  bear.  I  had 
just  called  a  halt  at  a  sightly  place  on  the  prairie,  and  the  men  had 
dropped  to  the  ground  for  a  rest,  when  a  bear  was  seen  just  beyond 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  SIXTY 


rifle  range.  Several  men  at  once  forgot  their  fatigue  and  started  for 
bruin,  but  he  had  detected  us  at  the  same  time  we  saw  him,  and  as 
he  was  the  better  on  the  race,  he  escaped. 

In  garrison  the  quarters  are  arranged  to  give  each  officer  a  suite 
of  rooms  with  conveniences  for  housekeeping,  but  at  Fort  Ridgely  the 
quarters  had  been  assigned  to  those  who  needed  them  most  without 
regard  to  rank.  The  troops  there  were  all  Minnesota  volunteers,  and 
as  both  officers  and  men  had  their  wives,  and  some  their  children,  with 
them,  demand  for  quarters  was  greater  than  the  supply.  I  was  assigned 
the  front  room  of  a  suite,  and  though  my  rank  gave  me  the  whole,  I 
preferred  to  allow  a  sergeant  of  Brackett's  Minnesota  Battalion  and 
his  family,  whom  I  found  in  possession,  to  continue  to  occupy  the  rest. 
Indeed  a  large  front  room  fifteen  feet  square  was  so  much  beyond  any- 
thing I  had  ever  enjoyed  before  in  the  service  I  was  entirely  satisfied. 

Sunday,  Oct.  2,  Lieut.  Hedge  and  forty  of  my  men  started  for 
Fort  Wadsworth  as  a  guard  for  a  supply  train,  with  the  expectation  of 
being  gone  twenty  days,  and  I  went  to  St.  Faul  as  a  witness  in  a 
court  martial,  and  boarded  while  there  at  the  Merchants  hotel.  The 
following  Saturday  I  went  to  Minneapolis  and  spent  a  day  or  two  with 
my  old  friend  Cheney.  A  week  later  Lieut.  Handy  of  Co.  F  joined  me, 
but  after  a  few  days  we  returned  to  our  respective  commands,  as  the 
court  was  not  ready  to  proceed  with  the  cases  with  which  we  were 
connected. 

During  my  absence  from  Fort  Ridgely,  Lieut.-Col.  Tamblyn  ar- 
rived at  Ridgely  with  two  companies,  Co.  F,  Lieut.  Evans  in  command, 
and  Co.  G,  Lieut.  J.  P.  Eaton  in  command;  but  by  the  latter 
part  of  the  month  all  were  permanently  disposed  of  for  the  win- 
ter. Co.  A  went  to  Fort  Abercrombie;  G,  to  Fort  Ripley;  and 
F,  to  Fort  Wadsworth;  while  Co.  I,  my  company,  was  to  remain  at 
Fort  Ridgely.  The  wife  of  Capt.  Strout,  who  had  joined  him  at 
Chicago  from  Maine,  had  come  to  Ridgely  with  him.  Here  she  was 
taken  sick  with  a  fever,  and  When  he  started  for  his  new  post,  he  left 
her  behind  in  my  care. 

Fort  Ridgely 

Fort  Ridgely  is  located  on  a  bluff  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Minne- 
sota river,  about  forty-five  miles  north  of  St.  Peter,  on  the  same  river, 
and  following  the  stream  about  one  hundred  twenty-five  miles  from 
Fort  Snelling,  where  the  Minnesota  unites  with  the  Mississippi.  When 
constructed,  it  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Indian  country,  and  yet  it  was 
built  simply  as  a  post  for  supplies,  with  no  thought  that  it  would  ever 
be  necessary  to  defend  it  from  attack  by  the  Indians.. 

The  buildings  were  on  four  sides  of  an  oblong  parade.  The  offi- 
cers' quarters  were  on  three  sides  and  consisted  of  one-story  wooden 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED    SIXTY-ONE 


buildings.  A  stone  building,  two  stories  high,  contained  the  barracks 
for  the  men,  and  smaller  quarters  for  married  enlisted  men  stood  in 
the  rear  of  this  building.  The  building  for  commissary  and  quarter- 
master's stores  was  also  of  stone,  two  stories,  and  stood  at  right  angles 
with  the  barracks,  on  a  line  with  the  officers'  quarters  on  the  west  side. 
The  chapel  and  sutler's  stand  were  at  the  north  east  outside  of  this 
square,  and  the  magazine,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  was  still  farther 
removed  from  the  center,  being  perhaps  twenty  rods  out  on  the  prairie 
at  the  northwest — a  safe  position  in  case  of  fire  in  the  fort,  but  in  a 
dangerous  place  in  case  of  attack.  The  stables  were  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  from  the  quarters  on  the  south.  There  was  no  stockade  about 
the  fort,  and  not  even  a  rifle  pit  for  use  in  case  of  an  attack.  It  was 
simply  a  collection  of  buildings  on  the  open  prairie  near  a  deep  ravine 
on  its  east  side,  and  the  valley  of  the  river  on  the  south,  which 
could  afford  shelter  for  a  large  assailing  force.  Its  water  supply  was 
extremely  faulty,  as  all  the  water  used  at  the  fort  was  brought  in 
water  carts  from  a  spring  a  half  mile  distant,  situated  in  a  ravine 
which  afforded  fine  opportunities  for  attacks  from  the  Indians. 

The  troops  at  Fort  Ridgely,  previous  to  our  arrival,  consisted  of 
two  companies  of  Brackett  Minnesota  Battalion  cavalry,  and  two  sec- 
tions of  the  Third  Battery  of  Light  Artillery,  Minnesota  state  troops. 
None  of  these  troops,  except  some  of  the  commissioned  officers,  had 
seen  service,  except  against  the  Indians,  Where  military  discipline  is 
not  as  essential  as  at  the  front  and  discipline  was  largely  unknown. 
They  were  neighbors,  called  into  the  service  by  the  Indian  outbreak  of 
1862,  and  the  crowding  of  officers  and  men  and  their  families  together 
did  much  to  keep  up  the  old  time  level  between  officers  and  men  that 
existed  between  neighbors.  Discipline  was  extremely  lax,  and  military 
duty  was  confined  to  necessary  guard  duty  and  an  occasional  drill. 
Dress  parade  was  about  the  only  function  that  was  observed  with 
moderate  regularity. 

The  crowding  process  had  been  carried  to  such  an  extent  that 
there  was  quite  a  population  at  the  fort  and  some  society.  Evening 
parties  and  dances  were  quite  common,  the  dining  rooms  at  the  bar- 
racks being  used  for  all  miscellaneous  gatherings.  Select  gatherings 
occasionally  occurred  at  some  of  the  officers'  quarters.  There  was 
never  any  lack  of  fiddlers  for  any  occasion,  and  their  music  was  always 
satisfactory,  however  poor.  The  post  chaplain,  Rev.  Mr.  Sweett,  held 
religious  services  in  the  chapel  or  block  house  on  Sundays,  and  once 
or  twice  during  the  week,  and  there  gathered  the  children  for  a  school 
on  week  days,  while  a  sutler  sold  lager  beer  by  the  glass.  Mails 
reached  the  fort  twice  a  week. 

Among  the  officers  at  the  fort  were  Capt.  A.  W.  Barton  and  Capt. 
Reed,  both  of  the  Minnesota  cavalry.     Capt.  Barton  was  a  native  of 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  SIXTY-TWO 


Newport,  N.  H.,  and  Capt.  Reed  was  born  near  New  London,  N.  H. 
Both  had  their  families  with  them,  and  both  these  officers  furnished 
congenial  company  for  me  With  Capt.  Barton  I  spent  many  hours 
playing  chess,  and  occasionally  I  spent  an  evening  at  the  chaplain's 
quarters,  playing  this  game  with  the  chaplain's  wife.  I  also  had  much 
time  for  reading,  which  I  gladly  improved. 

The  Massacre  of  1862 

Fort  Ridgely  was  a  very  important  point  during  the  Indian  out- 
break and  massacre  of  1862,  though  woefully  unprepared  for  the  con- 
flict. Its  garrison  consisted  at  that  time  of  Ordnance  Sergeant  Jones 
of  the  regular  army  and  thirty  men.  The  fight  was  a  valiant  one,  and 
this  little  band,  assisted  by  a  few  of  the  many  refugees  that  reached  the 
fort,  successfully  defended  the  place  alone,  till  succor  came  from  some 
of  the  larger  towns  of  the  settlements. 

The  Indian  outbreak  of  1862,  under  Little  Crow,  was  one  of  the 
darkest  chapters  of  Indian  warfare  and  massacre,  that  has  clouded  the 
pages  of  history  from  the  first  settlement  of  Virginia's  shores  in  1607 
till  now. 

The  great  Sioux,  or  Dakota,  nation  formerly  occupied  the  western 
part  of  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  Minnesota,  and  the  Dakotas.  Over  its  prairie 
roamed  vast  herds  of  buffalo;  its  woods  abounded  with  elk  and  deer; 
its  countless  lakes  and  streams  with  fish  and  wild  fowls;  while  otter, 
mink,  and  beaver  swarmed  on  the  shores  of  its  lakes  and  along  the 
banks  of  its  streams. 

In  1851,  the  Indians  were  induced  to  sign  treaties  by  which  they 
transferred  to  the  United  States  over  thirty  million  acres,  embracing 
all  of  their  lands  in  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  the  Dakotas,  and  Minnesota, 
except  a  portion  in  Minnesota  commencing  just  below  Fort  Ridgely 
and  extending  150  miles  to  Lake  Traverse,  with  a  width  of  ten  miles 
on  each  side  of  the  Minnesota  river. 

The  real  cause  of  this  outbreak  may  be  said  to  have  dated  back 
to  the  time  when  the  payment  was  made  for  the  lands  purchased  of 
these  Indians.  Previous  to  the  signing  of  the  treaty,  many  of  the 
traders  among  these  Indians,  aware  that  a  treaty  was  probable,  sold 
at  exorbitant  prices  a  large  amount  of  goods  to  these  people  on  credit, 
or  made  up  large  fictitious  claims.  After  the  treaty  had  been  made 
and  before  the  payment,  these  men  presented  claims  to  the  commis- 
sioners, aggregating  $300,000,  and  this  amount  was  actually  paid  and 
deducted  from  the  amount  due  the  Indians  for  their  lands.  This  act 
caused  great  wrath  among  the  Indians,  and  an  outbreak  was  narrowly 
averted  at  that  time.  Red  Iron,  the  principal  chief  of  the  Sissitons,  was 
so  outspoken  against  the  injustice,  and  threatened  vengeance  so  loudly, 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SIXTY-THREE 


that  Gov.  Ramsey,  the  superintendent  of  Indian  affairs,  deposed  him 
as  chief. 

After  the  Indians  had  been  removed  to  this  reservation,  the  gov- 
ernment sought  to  have  them  settle  on  the  land,  and  they  were  in- 
structed in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  seed  and  all  manner  of  tools 
being  furnished  gratis.  Two  agencies  were  established,  one  called  the 
Lower  Agency  or  Redwood  Agency,  fourteen  miles  above  Fort  Ridgely 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Redwood  river,  and  another  called  the  Upper 
Agency  at  the  mouth  of  the  Yellow  Medicine  river,  which  was  also 
called  the  Yellow  Medicine  Agency. 

At  the  lower  agency  the  Indian  agent  resided,  and  here  was 
erected  a  sawmill  to  furnish  lumber  with  which  to  build  houses;  a 
brick  church  was  erected  and  missionaries  supplied  to  teach  the  Indians. 
Little  Crow,  the  chief,  himself,  lived  in  a  brick  two-story  house  at  the 
Upper  agency.  Some  of  his  braves  lived  in  wooden  houses  and  sought 
to  imitate  the  white  man  in  his  manner  of  living;  others  preferred  to 
live  in  circular  houses  made  of  wood  and  earth  and  covered  with  bark; 
while  others  lived  in  tepees  made  of  canvas  or  bark,  round,  after  the 
model  of  the  Sibley  tent,  in  use  in  the  army.  The  Indians  of  one  class 
dressed  like  white  men,  had  their  hair  cut  short,  attended  church  and 
school,  were  married  to  one  woman,  each,  by  a  clergyman,  and  buried 
their  dead  in  the  ground;  those  of  another  class  wore  the  breechcloth, 
the  blanket,  and  the  leggings,  took  as  many  women  for  wives  as  they 
could  afford,  painted  themselves  with  paint,  ornamented  their  heads 
with  the  feathers  of  the  eagle,  placed  their  dead  on  platforms,  and 
made  war  on  the  Chippeways,  whom  they  tortured,  killed  and  scalped, 
as  opportunity  offered. 

At  the  lower  agency  there  were  also  a  goodly  number  of  families 
of  white  people  living  in  comfortable  houses;  there  were  schools, 
stores,  and  various  places  of  industry  and  thrift,  such  as  marked  the 
early  stages  of  many  of  the  prosperous  and  growing  villages  of  the 
west.  They  lived  with  hardly  a  thought  of  danger,  certainly  with  no 
anticipation  of  the  horrible  fate  that  awaited  them  and  their  hamlet. 

The  Indian  agent  has  been  the  fruitful  cause  of  trouble  among  the 
Indians,  though  the  reverse  should  have  been  the  case.  He  was  the 
disbursing  officer  of  the  government  bounty,  and  ought  to  have  been  a 
power  in  leading  these  wild  men  of  the  plains  to  a  better  mode  of  life, 
but  not  so.  Usually  he  was  a  man  engrossed  in  making  money  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  without  regard  to  the  methods  used.  He  usually 
had  a  store  in  which  the  cheapest  kinds  of  merchandise,  gaudy  calicoes, 
etc.,  were  sold  at  the  highest  prices.  These  goods  were  sold  largely 
on  credit,  and  pay  day  was  the  day  for  the  paying  of  the  annuities,  and 
then  many  of  the  Indians  came  many  miles  to  receive  their  stipend, 
only  to  find  they  owed  the  trader  all  the  trader,  as  agent,  had  for  them. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SIXTY-FOUR 


But  sharp  practices  like  these  were  not  the  only  means  of  rob- 
bing the  poor  Indian.  In  making  his  disbursement  of  the  annuities, 
a  pay  roll,  similar  to  those  in  use  in  the  army,  was  used.  Every 
Indian's  name  was  inserted  on  this  roll,  and  each  receipted  for  his  por- 
tion with  his  mark,  witnessed  by  some  white  man,  usually  the  agent's 
clerk.  It  was  currently  reported  and  generally  believed  that  many  fic- 
titious names  went  on  the  rolls  and  the  clerk  could  just  as  easily  wit- 
ness to  the  mark  of  a  fictitious  name  as  to  one  that  was  bona  fide, 
and  by  this  process  ten,  twenty,  or  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  all  the 
annuities,  according  to  the  conscience  of  the  agent,  went  into  his 
pockets  at  distribution.  Adding  to  this  his  claims  for  goods  sold, 
it  can  readily  be  seen  that  he  absorbed  a  large  part  of  the  funds  sent 
as  the  annuities  to  the  poor  red  man.  The  Chief,  even  if  he  knew  the 
number  of  his  people,  could  not  figure  out  how  much  each  was  entitled 
to  receive,  and  he  did  not  even  know  the  process  by  which  he  was 
wronged,  but  he  was  not  so  obtuse  but  that  he  knew  he  was  being 
wronged.  This  knowledge  was  one  of  the  many  grievances  that  the 
Indian  cherished,  previous  to  the  outbreak. 

Another  standing  grievance  which  the  Sioux  cherished  was  the 
prohibition  the  government  imposed  against  their  making  war  on  the 
Chippeways,  their  hereditary  enemies.  And  still  another  acute  cause 
was  the  delay  in  paying,  in  1862,  the  annual  annuity  due  them.  They 
supposed  this  delay  was  caused  by  the  great  father  at  Washington 
being  obliged  to  use  all  his  money  in  the  great  war  he  had  on  his 
hands,  and  some  reasoned  that  the  delay  in  payments  indicated  that 
no  more  annuities  would  be  paid.  Then,  too,  they  said,  "Our  great 
father  forbids  us  to  kill  the  Chippeways  and  he  is  at  war  himself  slaying 
many  thousands  of  his  people." 

That  the  uprising  of  1862  had  been  long  expected  by  at  least  a  por- 
tion of  the  Indians  there  is  reason  to  believe.  They  foresaw  the  con- 
flict. The  following  incident  will  illustrate  this  point.  I  was  one  day 
visiting  a  family  in  Kingston  that  had  narrowly  escaped  massacre  in 
1862.  A  young  lady  of  the  family  stated  that  a  year  before  the  out- 
break a  party  of  Indians  had  encamped  near  her  home,  and  fhe  chief 
of  the  band  tried  to  buy  her  of  her  father.  No  offer  being  acceptable, 
negotiations  were  dropped  with  the  remark:  "Well!  I  will  have  her 
next  year  for  nothing." 

And  yet  notwithstanding  all  these  grievances,  the  massacre  of 
1862,  with  all  its  horror,  might  perhaps  have  been  averted  had  it  not 
been  for  strong  drink  furnished  by  the  white  man. 

On  the  10th  of  August,  1862,  a  party  of  Indians  went  from  the 
Lower  Agency  to  the  big  woods  in  the  vicinity  of  Forrest  City,  hunt- 
ing. Returning  a  week  later  they  were  furnished  with  whisky  by  one 
of  the  traders,  or  settlers.     This  caused  a  quarrel  among  themselves, 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SIXTY-FIVE 


and  a  part  of  these  Indians,  to  show  they  were  not  cowards  as  they 
were  taunted  of  being,  shot  and  killed  four  whites  near  Acton.  A  boy 
carried  the  news  to  Ripley,  and  consternation  spread  through  the  set- 
tlements. 

The  returning  Indians  carried  the  news  to  their  own  people,  and 
there  was  instantly  a  division  among  themselves  as  to  what  should  be 
done.  The  question  was,  should  they  deliver  the  guilty  to  the  author- 
ities, or  all  go  on  the  war  path  and  wipe  out  the  whites  and  the 
wrongs  of  the  Indians  at  one  stroke.  Most  of  the  young  men  were 
for  war,  but  many  others  were  for  peace,  and  the  excitement  was 
intense.  Little  Crow,  the  war  chief,  left  his  brick  house  at  the  Upper 
Agency  and  cast  his  lot  with  the  war  party,  thereby  turning  the  scale 
in  favor  of  war,  and  the  massacre  on  a  large  scale  commenced. 

The  Indians,  under  the  leadership  of  Little  Crow,  made  their  first 
attack  at  the  Lower  Agency.  Here,  mingling  with  the  people  as  usual, 
at  a  given  signal,  the  awful  work  commenced,  and  continued  till  a  large 
number  were  killed.  The  only  reason  any  escaped  was  because,  after 
a  little,  the  Indians  gave  their  attention  to  carrying  off  loot,  rather 
than  seeking  for  more  victims.  Then  all  the  buildings  in  the  place  but 
two  were  destroyed  by  fire. 

The  refugees  from  the  agency  made  their  way  to  Fort  Ridgely,  and 
were  saved  there. 

The  Indians  at  the  Lower  Agency  under  Little  Crow  were  aug- 
mented by  other  bands  from  up  the  river,  and  from  there  they  extended 
rapidly  over  the  country,  carrying  death  and  desolation  with  tihem. 
All  the  horrors,  some  nameless,  known  to  the  Indian,  were  practiced 
upon  the  peaceable  settlers.  It  mattered  not  what  kindness  had  been 
received  at  the  hands  of  any;  all  fell  victims  alike  to  the  ruthless  hand 
and  unfeeling  heart  of  the  savages.  Even  those  Indians  who  had  pro- 
fessed Christianity  and  united  with  the  church  at  the  Lower  Agency 
were  eager  to  slay  their  teachers  and  burn  the  church  where  they  had 
worshipped.  Women  were  carried  into  captivity  worse  than  death, 
children  were  mutilated  and  slain  before  their  mother's  eyes,  and  the 
more  agony  they  could  inflict  upon  their  helpless  victims  the  greater 
was  the  -satisfaction  of  these  inhuman  fiends. 

In  the  Beaver  Creek  settlement  the  settlers  had  gathered  together 
for  flight  when  the  savages  appeared.  Cut  Nose,  an  Indian  of  hideous 
appearance,  jumped  into  a  covered  wagon  and  tomahawked  eleven 
women  and  children.  An  infant  was  taken  from  its  mother's  arms  and 
a  bolt  from  a  wagon  was  driven  through  its  body  before  the  mother's 
eyes,  and  then,  after  compelling  her  to  witness  this  spectacle,  they 
chopped  off  the  feet  and  hands  of  the  mother  and  left  her  to  bleed  to 
death.  Here  they  butchered  in  fifteen  minutes  twenty-five  persons.  In 
one  place  not  far  from  Fort  Ridgely  were  found  close  together  twenty- 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED    SIXTY-SIX 


seven  dead  bodies,  all  more  or  less  mutilated,  the  only  living  person 
being  an  infant  on  its  mother's  breast  vainly  seeking  nourishment. 

Such  scenes  as  these  were  multiplied  almost  indefinitely  until  a 
stretch  of  country  from  the  northern  to  the  southern  border  of  Minne- 
sota and  into  Iowa  and  the  Dakotas,  twenty  thousand  square  miles, 
was  laid  desolate,  and  for  more  than  two  hundred  miles  the  lurid  glare 
of  burning  homes  lit  up  the  heavens  at  night.  More  than  a  thousand 
persons  perished,  and  millions  of  dollars  worth  of  property  were  de- 
stroyed.    In  one  week  seven  hundred  persons  were  slain. 

The  next  day  after  the  outbreak  at  the  Lower  Agency,  Little  Crow 
and  two  hundred  warriors  made  their  way  to  Fort  Ridgely  and  New 
Ulm,  about  six  miles  below  the  fort.  The  fort  was  crowded  with  ref- 
ugees. Among  the  number  was  the  Indian  agent  on  his  way  from 
the  east  with  $72,000  in  gold,  with  which  to  pay  the  annuities  due  the 
Indians.  The  garrison  of  only  thirty  men  made  a  stubborn  resistance 
and  succeeded  in  beating  back  the  savages  till  succor  arrived. 

New  Ulm  contained  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants,  but  so  widely 
separated  were  the  dwellings  that  its  defence  was  difficult.  There  was 
no  military  organization,  and  the  people  were  in  a  panic.  In  the  fight 
that  ensued  many  lives  were  lost,  and  one  hundred  twenty-nine  houses 
were  destroyed  by  fire.  The  first  assistance  came  from  a  party  of  fif- 
teen horsemen  from  St.  Peter,  who  dashed  into  town  when  their  pres- 
ence was  greatly  needed.  Later  came  a  larger  party  of  volunteers  from 
Le  Sueur. 

New  Ulm  was  a  German  settlement.  The  people  did  not  believe 
in  any  religion,  and  religious  services  were  not  allowed  in  town.  Here 
at  one  time,  Christ  was  burned  in  effigy.  Sunday  was  a  great  holiday 
with  them,  and  their  beer  gardens  then  did  a  great  business.  Indeed, 
when  I  visited  that  place,  there  were  three  breweries  which  supplied 
the  people  with  their  favorite  beverage.  Sunday  evening  there  was 
always  a  dance,  and  the  only  theatre  of  the  village  was  then  in  full 
blast.  I  rode  down  there  one  day  with  some  of  the  officers  of  the  fort, 
and  I  had  heard  so  much  about  the  wickedness  of  the  place,  that  I  felt 
as  though  I  were  visiting  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 

The  events  that  occurred  at  New  Ulm  at  the  time  of  the  outbreak 
and  later  are  of  special  interest  to  the  people  of  Bristol  and  vicinity, 
because  of  Bristol  people  who  were  actors  and  victims  in  the  terrible 
scenes  enacted. 

With  the  Le  Sueur  party  was  Dr.  Otis  Ayer,  a  former  practitioner 
in  Bristol,  and  a  native  of  the  Ayer  farm  on  the  New  Hampton  side 
of  the  Pemigewasset  river.  Dr.  Ayer  was  a  leading  spirit  in  this  party. 
He  attended  to  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded  and  did  much  to  inspire 
the  people  with  confidence  during  the  siege  that  ensued.  New  Ulm 
was  one  of  the  centers  to  which  the  people  on  the  widely  scattered 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED   SIXTY-SEVEN 


farms  on  the  west  had  fled.  The  Indians  had  early  surrounded  the 
place  and  cut  off  and  ruthlessly  murdered  scores  of  people  seeking 
refuge  there. 

Among  the  families  from  the  east,  who  had  sought  a  home  on  the 
frontier  of  Minnesota,  was  that  of  Joseph  Brown.  He  had  been  a 
resident  of  the  Locke  neighborhood  in  Bristol;  had  married  the  daugh- 
ter of  John  Fellows,  a  Revolutionary  soldier  of  Bristol,  and  by  her  had 
four  children.  She  died,  and  in  eighteen  hundred  fifty-five,  with  two  of 
his  children,  Jonathan  and  Horatio,  he  went  to  Minnesota  and  settled 
fifteen  miles  west  of  New  Ulm,  where  he  took  up  land  under  a  Revolu- 
tionary war  land  warrant,  issued  to  his  wife's  father.  The  father  be- 
came an  extensive  farmer,  while  Jonathan  devoted  his  time  to  land 
surveying.  Near  them  located  two  young  men  from  Alexandria  by  the 
name  of  Burns,  after  whom  Burnsville,  Minn.,  was  named. 

When  the  outbreak  occurred,  the  Brown  family,  like  the  Willey 
family  in  the  White  Mountain  Notch  at  the  time  of  the  freshet  in  1826, 
left  their  house  to  meet  destruction  outside,  while  their  home  escaped. 
Loading  as  much  of  their  earthly  effects  as  possible  into  a  two  horse 
wagon,  they,  with  their  hired  man,  hastened  towards  New  Ulm.  When 
but  a  short  distance  from  their  destination,  they  were  discovered  by  the 
Indians  and  all  put  to  death. 

After  the  Indians  had  withdrawn  from  the  vicinity  of  New  Ulm, 
Dr.  Ayer  and  his  party  scoured  the  country  in  that  vicinity  and  buried 
such  of  the  dead  as  could  be  found.  This  party  found  the  Brown 
family  and  from  the  names  written  in  the  family  Bible,  Dr.  Ayer  rec- 
ognized them  as  former  acquaintances  in  New  Hampshire.  Near  at 
hand  sat  the  family  dog,  which,  for  six  weeks,  had  kept  faithful  watch 
over  the  remains  of  his  master  and  family. 

At  the  time  the  Brown  family  left  their  home,  the  two  young  men 
by  the  name  of  Burns  were  thirty  miles  up  the  river.  On  their  return 
a  few  days  later,  they  found  the  Browns  had  gone  as  described  above, 
and  there  they  left  two  women,  refugees,  one  badly  wounded,  whom 
they  had  found  on  the  road,  and  they  also  set  out  for  New  Ulm,  and 
reached  there  in  safety  just  after  the  Indians  had  been  repulsed. 

The  two  women  left  in  the  Brown  home  said  that  each  day  during 
their  stay  there,  the  dog  came  home  at  evening  and  drove  the  cows  to 
the  barn  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do,  and,  after  being  fed,  had 
disappeared,  without  doubt  returning  to  his  watch  beside  the  remains 
of  his  master  and  family. 

While  these  events  were  taking  place,  an  armed  force  was  being 
organized  at  St.  Paul  and  other  large  places.  Gen.  H.  H.  Sibley  took 
command,  and  hastened  to  St.  Peter.  Here  he  found  himself  in  com- 
mand of  fourteen  hundred  men,  but  more  of  a  mob  than  an  army. 
They  were  armed  with  all  sorts  of  weapons,  and  largely  without  ammu- 

PAGE   ONE    HUNDRED    SIXTY-EIGHT 


nition.  Small  scouting  parties  were  sent  out  at  first,  and  then,  as 
organizations  were  effected,  larger  parties  were  sent  for  the  relief  of 
New  Ulm  and  Fort  Ridgely. 

One  party,  on  arriving  at  Fort  Ridgely,  found  that  the  Indians 
had  disappeared  from  that  vicinity  and  a  portion  of  the  volunteers  re- 
turned to  St.  Peter  and  to  their  home.  A  force  was  organized,  however, 
to  proceed  up  the  river  for  operations  against  the  Indians,  which  met 
with  disaster. 

Confidence  in  their  numbers  led  them  to  extreme  carelessness.  The 
first  night  they  encamped  near  the  Lower  Agency  in  the  worst  place 
imaginable  for  defence,  and  with  the  early  dawn  a  murderous  fire  was 
opened  upon  them.  Within  three  hours  twenty-three  men  and  over 
ninety  horses  were  killed,  and  sixty  were  wounded.  After  thirty-one 
hours  of  fighting  without  food  or  water,  they  were  relieved  by  General 
Sibley. 

The  summer  was  spent  in  fighting  the  Indians  wherever  they 
could  be  found,  and  several  engagements  occurred,  until  finally  the 
Indians,  after  the  battle  of  Wood  Lake,  convinced  of  the  uselessness  of 
further  hostilities,  begged  for  peace. 

After  protracted  negotiations,  a  part  of  the  Indians  delivered  up 
the  large  number  of  prisoners  in  their  hands,  mostly  women  and  chil- 
dren, and  surrendered  themselves  to  the  whites. 

The  latter  part  of  October,  the. troops,  with  those  Indians  (about 
fifteen  hundred)  who  had  surrendered,  and  the  captives  they  released, 
commenced  their  journey  east.  A  halt  was  made  at  the  Lower  Agency, 
where  a  jail  was  erected  for  the  better  keeping  of  the  Indians,  and  here 
the  trial  of  the  Indians  commenced.  A  couple  of  weeks  later  the  march 
east  was  resumed,  the  greater  part  of  the  Indians  being  escorted  to 
Fort  Snelling  into  a  permanent  camp  for  the  winter,  while  another 
permanent  camp  was  established  at  Mankato,  where  the  trial  of  the 
Indians  was  continued. 

The  military  commission  to  try  the  Indians  consisted  of  Col. 
Crooks,  Lt.-Col.  Nash,  Captains  Grant  and  Bailey,  and  Lieut.  Olin. 

Written  charges  and  specifications  were  preferred  against  each 
man  tried,  and  no  man  was  tried  except  for  murder,  the  charge  against 
all. 

Thus,  one  by  one,  over  four  hundred  Indians  were  tried.  Some 
cases  were  disposed  of  in  five  minutes.  All  that  was  needed  as  proof 
of  guilt  was  the  fact  that  the  accused  participated  in  a  battle  or  mas- 
sacre. Three  hundred  and  three  were  condemned  to  death,  and  eigh- 
teen to  imprisonment. 

One  peculiar  fact  in  connection  with  these  trials  was  the  appearance 
of  the  Rev.  S.  R.  Riggs,  a  missionary  among  these  people.  He  sym- 
pathized with  these  people  and  was  watchful  that  no  injustice  was  done 

PAGE   ONE  HUNDRED   SIXTY-NINE 


them,  and  yet  he  admitted  that  members  of  his  church  had  participated 
in  the  massacre  of  innocent  men,  women  and  children.  While  in  prison 
these  same  Indians  and  others  whiled  away  the  hours  in  singing  the 
sacred  songs  they  had  sung  in  their  religious  devotions  under  the  lead- 
ership of  such  men  as  Rev.  Mr.  Riggs. 

The  findings  of  this  court  martial  were  sent  to  President  Lincoln 
for  his  approval.  At  the  same  time  many  of  the  papers  of  the  east  ar- 
raigned the  court  for  its  inhumanity,  and  petitions  largely  signed  by 
citizens  of  Boston  and  other  places  in  New  England  were  sent  to  the 
president,  asking  for  their  pardon  or  protesting  against  their  execution. 

The  result  was  that  President  Lincoln  commuted  the  sentence  of 
all  but  thirty-eight,  and  these  were  ordered  to  be  executed  at  Mankato 
on  Friday,  Feb.  26,  1863. 

In  anticipation  of  a  great  crowd  at  Mankato  to  witness  the  execu- 
tions, and  possibly  a  demonstration  against  the  Indians  still  under 
guard  there,  martial  law  was  proclaimed  on  Monday  preceding  the  date 
of  execution,  and  among  precautionary  acts  taken  all  sales  of  intoxicat- 
ing liquors  within  ten  miles  of  Mankato  were  prohibited. 

Three  missionaries,  Rev.  Dr.  Williamson,  Rev.  Van  Ravoux,  and 
Rev.  S.  R.  Riggs,  were  in  constant  attendance  on  the  condemned 
Indians  previous  to  their  execution,  and  some  of  them  expressed  the 
belief  that  they  should  go  directly  to  the  abode  of  the  Great  Spirit,  where 
they  would  always  be  happy  Most  of  them  were  composed  and  indif- 
ferent, or  even  cheerful,  in  anticipation  of  their  doom,  which  many  in- 
terpreted as  showing  the  Indian  character,  rather  than  the  Christian 
faith.  During  their  last  night  on  earth,  several  were  baptized  by  Father 
Ravoux,  a  Catholic  missionary. 

At  10  o'clock,  on  the  day  of  execution,  a  procession  was  formed, 
and  the  condemned  were  marched  through  files  of  soldiers  from  the 
prison  to  the  scaffold,  their  arms  having  been  previously  pinioned.  In 
the  march  the  Indians  crowded  and  jostled  each  other  as  though 
anxious  to  first  reach  the  place  of  execution,  and  as  they  ascended  the 
steps  to  the  scaffold,  they  commenced  to  sing  their  death  song. 

The  execution  was  public  and  an  immense  crowd  witnessed  the 
scene.  Three  distinct  beats  on  the  drum  slowly  followed  each  other, 
the  rope  was  cut,  and  thirty-eight  men  dropped  into  eternity,  and  a 
shout  of  approval  went  up  from  the  assembled  crowd,  and  then  all  was 
silent. 

The  bodies  of  those  executed  were  cut  down,  placed  in  four  army 
wagons  in  waiting,  and  all  buried  in  one  grave,  thirty  feet  in  length 
by  twelve  in  width  and  four  deep,  in  a  sand-bar  of  the  Minnesota  river, 
outside  the  town.  The  other  condemned  Indians  were  removed  to 
Davenport,  Iowa,  where  they  were  held  in  confinement.  The  rest  of 
the  captive  Indians  were  removed  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Missouri 
river. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY 


Little  Crow,  and  such  of  the  Sioux  as  did  not  surrender  after  the 
battle  of  Wood  Lake,  withdrew  to  the  territory  of  Miniwakan,  or 
Devil's  Lake,  in  Dakota,  nearly  five  hundred  miles  northwest  of  St. 
Paul.  There,  about  four  thousand  Indians  assembled.  A  desultory 
warfare  against  the  whites,  with  occasional  massacres,  was  continued. 
In  1863,  a  small  party  of  braves  penetrated  the  settlements  to  within 
twelve  miles  of  St.  Paul.  In  July,  Little  Crow  and  a  party  of  sixteen 
returned  to  the  scenes  of  the  massacre,  and  in  Hutchinson,  he  and  one 
of  his  sons,  when  alone,  met  two  men,  and  a  fight  ensued,  and  Little 
Crow  was  killed. 

Thus  perished  the  leader  of  the  great  Indian  uprising  of  1862,  which 
cost  the  United  States  about  $10,000,000  in  treasure,  and  when  about 
one  thousand  peaceable  settlers  were  slain,  and  settlements  on  the  fron- 
tier were  driven  back  some  fifty  miles,  leaving  the  frontier,  from  the 
southern  to  the  northern  boundary  of  Minnesota,  a  scene  of  desolation. 

But  all  these  scenes  of  desolation  and  woe,  that  covered  the  entire 
frontier  of  Minnesota,  were  brightened  by  the  acts  of  a  few  civilized 
Indians.  Some  refused  to  join  in  the  work  of  massacre  and  death,  and 
aided  as  many  whites  in  escaping  as  possible.  This  was  notably  true 
of  Other  Day,  a  so-called  civilized  Indian.  He  had  adopted  the  man- 
ners of  life  of  the  whites,  lived  in  a  house  built  by  himself,  aided  by 
government  employees,  and  dressed  as  white  men  do.  When  the  ques- 
tion of  war  or  peace  was  considered  by  the  Indians,  he  worked  stren- 
uously to  divert  the  calamity  to  his  own  race,  which  he  clearly  saw 
would  follow  an  outbreak,  and,  when  the  decision  was  to  go  upon  the 
warpath,  he  exerted  his  energies  to  save  as  many  of  the  whites  as  lay 
in  his  power.  He  warned  the  whites  near  by  of  their  danger,  and  a 
party  of  fifty  whites  gathered  at  his  house  and  at  a  nearby  storehouse, 
and  he  and  four  of  his  associates  stood  guard  all  night  and  prevented 
an  attack.  He  then  guided  this  party,  augmented  by  twelve  others,  to 
a  place  of  safety,  but  so  closely  followed  were  they,  that  one  of  the 
party  died  of  wounds  received  while  on  the  march.  They  were  closely 
followed  by  a  few  who  dared  not  make  an  open  attack. 

At  this  same  time  a  party  of  forty-two,  including  two  missionaries, 
were  led  to  a  place  of  safety  by  other  friendly  Indians.  There  were 
those  among  the  Indians,  who  were  wise  enough,  or  sufficiently 
friendly  to  the  whites,  to  prevent  their  joining  in  the  wild  carnival  of 
death. 

Other  Day  was  a  man  shorter  in  build  than  the  average  Indian, 
and  he  lacked  some  of  the  ferocious  features  that  characterized  many 
of  the  savages.  We  met  this  man  occasionally  while  we  were  on  the 
frontier,  and  could  not  help  noticing  his  modesty,  when  he  was  lionized 
by  the  whites  for  his  humanity  and  bravery. 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-ONE 


The  troops  stationed  at  Fort  Ridgely,  when  I  arrived  there,  were 
the  third  Battery  Minn.  Light  Artillery.  The  officers  of  this  battery 
were  Capt.  John  Jones,  who,  as  Sergt.  Jones  of  the  regular  army,  was 
on  duty  at  Fort  Ridgely  when  the  massacre  commenced  and  had  the 
credit  of  saving  the  fort;  1st  Lieut.  Don  A.  Daniels  of  Rochester,  Minn., 
and  2d  Lieut.  G.  Merrill  Dwelle  of  Lake  City.  There  were  also  two 
companies  of  the  1st  Minn.  Cavalry,  Capt.  Ara  Barton  and  Capt.  Reed. 
These  troops  had  seen  service  in  the  Indian  campaign  of  the  previous 
summer.  There  were  also  stationed  here  nearly,  or  quite,  one  hundred 
men,  who  had  formerly  served  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  who, 
because  of  this  fact,  had  been  detached  from  their  own  regiments  and 
sent  to  the  frontier.  These  men  were  not  desirable  soldiers.  They 
were  mostly  foreigners  who  claimed  they  had  been  compelled  to  enlist 
in  the  Confederate  army  and  embraced  the  first  opportunity  to  desert 
and  enlist  in  the  Union  army.  In  reality,  they  had  but  little  interest 
in  either  side  and  sought  to  improve  their  conditions  by  a  change  of 
allegiance.  Among  the  number  were  some  of  the  poor  whites  of  the 
South,  who  seemed  to  be  influenced  by  much  the  same  motives  as  those 
named  above.  These  men,  as  a  rule,  were  a  quarrelsome,  unruly  set, 
and  made  much  trouble  for  the  officers.  Fights  were  common  among 
them,  and  the  surgeons  of  the  post  were  often  called  to  attend  these 
men  in  the  hospital,  suffering  from  cuts  and  bruises  inflicted  in  these 
fights. 

Life  at  Fort  Ridgely  during  the  winter  of  1864-5  was  rather  a 
dreary  one,  with  but  few  military  duties  to  perform,  and  discipline  was 
harder  to  maintain  among  my  own  men  than  though  they  were  asso- 
ciated with  men  who  had  been  accustomed  to  the  stern  discipline  neces- 
sary at  the  front. 

For  recreation  there  was  the  social  element  spoken  of  before,  varied 
in  pleasant  weather  by  horseback  riding  and  hunting.  Deer,  ducks, 
prairie  chickens,  and  wild  geese  were  found  in  great  numbers,  and 
venison  and  bear  meat  were  common  articles  of  diet,  more  common 
than  any  other  kind  of  meat.  In  one  of  my  trips  to  inspect  the  line  of 
stockades  spoken  of  later,  on  approaching  a  small  lake,  I  saw  on  the 
shore  a  flock  of  geese,  several  deep,  that  extended  more  than  a  half 
mile  along  the  water's  edge.  As  I  approached,  they  rose  and  formed 
a  compact  body,  and  as  they  passed  between  me  and  the  sun,  they  cast 
a  shadow  like  a  small  cloud.  On  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mississippi 
I  have  many  times  seen  flocks  of  wild  geese  as  large  as  this,  or  even 
larger.  At  another  time  a  large  bear  crossed  the  trail  ahead  of  me, 
climbed  a  tree  and  looked  at  me  as  I  passed  close  by.  As  night  was 
approaching  and  I  was  armed  with  a  revolver  only,  I  had  no  disposi- 
tion to  annoy  Bruin  with  a  shot. 

A  few  miles  west  of  Fort  Ridgely  was  a  line  of  stockades,  or  posts, 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-TWO 


from  twelve  to  fifteen  miles  apart,  extending  the  entire  length  of  the 
state.  Here  were  stationed  detachments  of  cavalry,  and  every  day  de- 
tails from  these  posts  patrolled  the  trail  or  road  between  the  posts,  ex- 
amining the  ground  carefully  for  signs  of  any  Indian  parties  that  might 
have  crossed  on  their  way  to  the  settlements.  This  was  one  of  the 
methods  used  to  protect  the  settlements  from  Indian  raids,  or  give 
alarm  in  case  any  hostile  parties  had  appeared. 

Officers  at  Fort  Ridgely  were  detailed  at  stated  intervals  to  visit 
these  posts  and  inspect  this  line.  On  one  occasion,  my  friend,  Capt. 
Barton,  had  made  the  inspection,  and,  on  his  return,  narrated  to  me  an 
episode  that  had  occurred  in  which  he  had  used  my  name,  and  which 
was  the  commencement  of  a  little  romance  that  afforded  me  much 
pleasure  during  my  stay  in  Minnesota,  when  were  formed  friendships 
that  have  existed  through  life.  On  this  trip  he  turned  aside  from  the 
stockade  line  and  visited  a  settlement  about  eighty-five  miles  northeast 
of  Fort  Ridgely.  Here  he  met  a  family  of  eastern  people  consisting  of 
a  man,  his  wife  and  two  daughters,  and  at  their  pressing  invitation  had 
remained  over  night.  During  the  afternoon,  in  looking  over  the  family 
album,  he  found  a  picture,  which  the  younger  of  the  two  girls  told  him 
was  a  picture  her  sister  had  received  in  answer  to  a  letter  she  had 
written  in  sport  to  an  advertiser,  who  agreed  to  send  the  picture  of  the 
future  husband  of  any  who  desired  it.  Later  in  the  day  he  looked  over 
this  same  album  with  the  sister,  and,  coming  to  the  one  spoken  of  above, 
he  feigned  surprise  that  she  should  have  the  picture  of  that  man. 
"Why,  do  you  know  him?"  she  asked.  "Certainly,"  he  replied,  "it  is  a 
young  captain  at  Fort  Ridgely."  Continuing  the  conversation,  he  said 
the  next  time  he  came  that  way  he  would  bring  the  captain  with  him. 
To  this  she  assented. 

Of  course  I  readily  fell  in  with  that  suggestion,  and  when  it  again 
came  time  for  the  inspection  of  the  north  line  stockades,  Capt.  Barton 
and  I  asked  to  be  detailed  for  this  duty,  and  the  request  was  readily 
granted. 

The  trip  occupied  about  ten  days,  and  was  a  most  enjoyable  one, 
two  days  being  passed  with  our  newly  found  eastern  friends.  They 
were  a  refined,  cultured  family  and  resided  in  a  large  two-story  frame 
dwelling,  the  only  one  in  the  hamlet;  and  the  father  was  the  proprietor 
of  a  store  and  a  large  grist-mill.  A  son  was  a  captain  in  the  western 
army  at  the  front.  I  several  times  visited  here,  and  a  ride,  horseback, 
alone,  of  eighty-five  miles  over  the  prairie  was  no  hardship.  But  all 
romances  do  not  end  the  same  way.  The  following  summer  I  was 
sent  to  the  plains  of  western  Kansas,  the  war  ended,  and  another  cap- 
tain, returning  from  the  army,  sought  and  won  this  fair  daughter  of 
the  northwest. 


PAGE    ONE   HUNDRED    SEVENTY-THREE 


A  Western  Blizzard 

On  my  return  to  Fort  Ridgely  from  one  of  these  trips,  I  came 
near  losing  my  life  in  one  of  those  blizzards  that  sweep  this  country 
with  a  severity  that  cannot  be  realized  by  those  who  have  not  expe- 
rienced them.  A  pleasant  afternoon  and  congenial  company  led  me  to 
delay  my  departure  longer  than  prudence  dictated,  but  I  reached  the 
first  stockade  in  due  season,  changed  horses,  and  set  out  for  the  next 
post  about  twelve  miles  distant.  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow 
and  ice,  my  horse  was  unshod  and  I  made  but  slow  progress.  Just  at 
dusk  I  reached  a  place  where  the  land  was  level  and  covered  with  ice. 
Here  my  horse  fell,  and  in  trying  to  save  myself  I  bruised  my  hip  and 
sprained  my  left  wrist.  After  getting  my  horse  upon  his  feet,  I  led 
him  around  the  ice  instead  of  across  it;  then  I  came  to  another  and 
still  another  sheet  of  ice,  and  when  I  reached  the  place  where  I  thought 
the  trail  should  be  I  could  not  find  it.  After  a  long  hunt  in  the  dark- 
ness I  found  the  imprint  of  a  horse's  foot  in  the  snow,  and  after  exam- 
ining the  direction  the  horse  was  traveling,  I  remounted  and  pressed 
forward  as  fast  as  possible,  never  for  a  moment  taking  my  eyes  from 
the  trail.  Evidences  of  an  approaching  storm  were  seen,  and  I  realized 
the  danger  to  any  one  who  should  be  lost  on  the  prairie  at  such  a 
time.  About  ten  o'clock  I  reached  a  deserted  hut  that  had  been  used 
as  a  stockade  and  in  that  took  refuge.  In  the  morning  the  worst 
blizzard  of  the  winter  was  raging,  and  my  bed  on  the  ground  with  a 
blanket  over  me  was  covered  deep  with  snow.  Fortunately  I  was 
near  the  post  or  stockade  I  was  seeking,  and  there  the  soldiers  furnished 
me  with  food  and  shelter,  and  there  I  remained  for  three  days  before 
deeming  it  prudent  to  resume  my  ride  to  the  fort. 

The  following  facts  may  be  stated  as  showing  the  fearful  severity 
of  those  blizzards.  One  year  later  a  Capt.  Fields,  a  friend  of  mine, 
was  traveling  over  this  same  route  from  Fort  Ridgely  with  his  com- 
pany of  cavalry  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  blizzard.  Taking  seven 
men  with  him  he  said  he  would  go  ahead  to  the  contemplated  camping 
place,  and  have  coffee  ready  for  the  company  when  it  should  arrive. 
When  the  company  reached  the  camping  place,  Capt.  Fields  was  not 
there.  He  and  his  seven  men  lost  their  way  and  all  perished  in  the 
storm. 

During  the  winter  I  made  a  second  trip  to  St.  Paul  as  a  witness 
before  a  court  martial  and,  as  before,  took  up  quarters  at  the  mer- 
chant's house.  Here  I  was  joined  by  Lieut.  Ephraim  Williams  of  Co. 
A,  and  Lieut.  Geo.  E.  Handy  of  Co.  F,  and  here  I  passed  a  week  or 
two  very  pleasantly.  The  ride  from  St.  Paul  to  St.  Peter,  on  my  re- 
turn to  Fort  Ridgely,  was  with  Lieut.  Handy  in  a  typical  Minnesota 
four-horse  stage  coach  of  that  day.  From  St.  Peter  we  made  the  last 
fifty  miles  in  a  two-horse  mail  sleigh. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-FOUR 


In  May,  1865,  it  was  reported  that  a  band  of  Indians  had  ap- 
proached the  frontier  and  was  encamped  near  Wood  Lake,  and  Gen. 
S.  S.  Sibley  issued  an  order  for  a  small  expedition  to  proceed  to  that 
place,  against  them,  and  placed  me  in  command.  The  force  command 
consisted  of  about  one  hundred  infantry,  including  my  own  company 
under  Lieut.  Hedge,  a  squadron  of  Brackett's  Battalion  of  Minnesota 
Cavalry  under  an  officer  of  that  organization,  and  one  section  of  the 
Third  Minnesota  Battery  under  Lieut.  Dwelle.  Our  march  lay 
through  what  was  once  the  Lower  Agency  when  the  massacre  of  1862 
commenced.  There  were  still  many  evidences  of  the  fearful  work  of 
the  Indians  here — the  stone  walls  of  the  agency  building,  the  ruins  of 
the  saw-mill  and  grist-mill  and  the  church,  the  ashes  of  the  residences, 
and  the  farming  tools  as  left  on  the  day  of  the  massacre. 

We  also  passed  over  the  scene  of  the  first  battle  with  the  Indians 
near  the  Lower  Agency,  where  were  still  evidences  of  the  strife  when 
the  troops  fared  so  badly.  Here  I  picked  up  the  skull  of  an  Indian 
warrior,  that  fell  in  this  fight,  and  this  memento  still  graces  my  collec- 
tion of  relics  secured  in  that  country.  At  the  Upper  Agency,  we  saw 
the  fine  brick  house,  then  deserted,  that  Little  Crow  vacated  when  he 
went  on  the  war  path.  We  encamped  in  a  valley  near  the  shore  of 
Wood  Lake  and,  after  dark,  made  a  march  to  the  supposed  Indian 
camp,  but  found  no  Indians. 

Near  here  we  first  saw  an  Indian  burial  platform — four  stakes 
driven  into  the  ground,  on  the  top  of  which,  at  a  height  of  eight  or 
ten  feet,  was  placed  a  platform  on  which  was  deposited  the  body  of  the 
dead,  together  with  an  extra  blanket  or  robe,  and,  if  a  warrior,  his  arms, 
ammunition,  and  some  food  for  his  use  in  the  happy  hunting  ground, 
until  such  time  as  he  should  become  accustomed  to  the  country  and 
be  able  to  provide  for  himself.  From  such  a  platform  I  obtained  a 
scalping  knife,  a  flint-lock  pistol  and  some  lead  bullets,  which  I  still 
have. 

Massacre  of  the  Jewett  Family 

In  May,  1865,  our  community  at  the  fort  was  stirred  by  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  Jewett  family.  A  small  band  of  Indians  succeeded  in 
crossing  the  stockade  trail  without  detection  and  proceeded  to  the  vil- 
lage of  Garden  City,  a  few  miles  below  the  fort,  and  there  wreaked 
their  vengeance  on  the  Jewett  family.  The  entire  family,  six  in  number, 
fell  easy  victims  to  the  ferocity  of  the  Indians.  All  had  been  put  to 
death  in  true  Indian  style.  Some  had  been  tomahawked  in  the  house; 
others  had  fallen  by  arrows  which  overtook  them  when  endeavoring 
to  escape.  The  troops  at  the  fort  were  promptly  on  the  scene.  My 
own  company  scoured  the  woods  near  by,  but  we  were  too  late.  The 
Indians  had  gone,  but  the  cavalry  took  up  the  trail  and  followed  them. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-FIVE 


They  were  proceeding  with  caution  as  signs  multiplied  that  the  wily  foe 
was  near,  when,  suddenly,  the  Indians  arose  from  the  grass  and  bushes, 
discharged  a  shower  of  arrows  at  their  pursuers  and,  taking  advantage 
of  the  momentary  confusion  that  ensued,  were  off.  They  were  not 
again  overtaken.  As  a  result  of  this  fire  one  man  fell  dead  from  his 
saddle  with  an  arrow  in  his  chest.  A  half  breed,  taken  later,  was 
accused  of  complicity  in  this  raid  and  promptly  hung. 

This  event  spread  intense  alarm  along  the  settlements.  Some, 
who  had  returned  to  their  farms  near  the  fort,  sought  refuge  there,  and 
others  solicited  arms  with  which  to  defend  themselves.  The  people 
could  see  the  work  of  Indians  in  any  unusual  event.  A  day  or  two 
later  a  Mr.  Lee  came  to  the  fort  and  reported  that  he  had  seen  six 
Indians  the  night  before  and  had  been  fired  at  by  them.  I  was  sent, 
with  twenty  men,  about  fifteen  miles  from  the  fort  and  scoured  the 
country  where  he  claimed  to  have  been  attacked,  but  could  find  no 
trace  of  Indians.  I  camped  over  night  near  a  settler,  and  he  said  he 
had  fired  at  a  party  of  Indians  the  night  before.  Light  began  to  dawn 
on  the  situation,  and  further  investigation  convinced  me  beyond  a  doubt 
that  Lee,  while  drunk,  had  made  a  demonstration  near  this  man's 
house,  and  it  was  this  settler  who  had  fired  at  Lee  and  not  the  Indians. 
I  returned  to  the  fort  and  reported  facts  as  I  found  them  and  subse- 
quently my  report  was  verified. 

The  news  of  the  fall  of  Richmond  and  the  surrender  of  Lee  which 
followed,  April  9,  reached  Fort  Ridgely  by  stage  coach,  several  days 
after  these  historic  events  and  caused  great  rejoicing.  A  salute  of  thirty 
guns  was  at  once  fired  by  the  battery,  and  two  hundred  guns  were 
fired  the  next  day.  But  when,  a  few  days  later,  came  the  news  of  the 
assassination  of  President  Lincoln,  our  little  community  was  plunged 
into  deep  gloom. 

In  May  (1865)  Brackett's  Battalion  of  cavalry  started  from  Fort 
Snelling  on  an  expedition  to  the  Black  Hills,  and  camped  for  a  few 
days  at  Fort  Ridgely  en  route.  Two  companies  of  cavalry,  commanded 
by  my  friends,  Captains  Barton  and  Reed,  joined  this  force  and  left 
the  fort.  The  presence  of  this  whole  battalion  at  the  fort  for  a  few 
days  was  a  great  event  for  that  little  world  of  ours. 

Just  previous  to  the  4th  of  July  (1865)  the  paymaster  visited  Fort 
Ridgely  and  paid  off  the  troops  stationed  there.  Many  of  the  Minne- 
sota men  wished  to  send  money  to  their  homes  and,  as  St.  Peter  was 
the  nearest  express  office,  I  volunteered  to  go  to  that  place  with  what 
money  the  men  wished  to  send.  My  offer  was  accepted,  and  the  men 
turned  over  to  me  in  small  amounts,  $10,000.  I  had  no  thought  of 
any  danger  in  going  alone  with  this  amount  of  money,  but,  in  view  of 
the  many  detached  men  of  questionable  character  at  the  post  who 
knew  that  I  had  this  money,  Col.  Pfaender,  who  commanded  the  post, 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-SIX 


would  not  allow  me  to  go  alone,  and  sent  two  men  with  me  as  an 
escort.  We  made  the  trip  the  3d,  and  I  turned  over  the  money  to  the 
express  agent  late  that  evening.  That  shipment  was  the  largest,  the 
agent  said,  that  had  been  received  at  the  St.  Peter  office  in  one  day  up 
to  that  time.  The  next  day,  the  4th,  I  attended  a  great  celebration  of 
the  people,  and  my  uniform  at  once  gained  me  an  invitation  to  share 
the  hospitalities  of  some  of  the  leading  men  of  the  place  and  I  had  a 
great  time.  The  speakers  naturally  confined  themselves  to  the  war 
just  brought  to  a  close,  and  I  was  particularly  amused  with  the  descrip- 
tion, given  by  one  speaker,  of  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  in  which  he 
placed  the  enemy  on  the  inside  of  a  circle  and  the  Union  forces  on  the 
outside,  which  was  directly  the  reverse  of  the  facts. 

On  the  26th  of  July  I  bade  adieu  to  Fort  Ridgely  and  its  occupants 
and  started  for  Fort  Snelling  with  my  company,  under  orders  to  pro- 
ceed to  that  post  for  muster  out.  Before  starting,  three  cheers  were 
given  for  home  and  a  discharge  from  the  army. 

There  were  also  sent  to  Fort  Snelling,  under  my  command,  fifty- 
one  detached  men  for  muster  out.  These  were  the  men  spoken  of 
before,  who  were  serving  at  Fort  Ridgely  on  detached  service  because 
of  their  having  served  in  the  Confederate  army.  There  was  not  the 
best  of  feeling  between  the  members  of  my  company  and  these  men 
but  fortunately  I  had  secured  their  good  will  and  no  trouble  occurred 
till  the  settlements  were  reached  and  strong  drink  obtained.  Then  the 
devil  that  was  in  these  men  and  my  own  came  to  the  surface,  and  a 
small  fight  in  camp,  en  route,  instantly  grew  to  large  proportions,  and 
fists,  dirk  knives  and  bayonets  were  freely  used  between  my  men  and 
the  others  temporarily  under  my  command.  I  waded  in  and  was 
astonished  myself  at  the  power  I  exerted  on  those  angry,  intoxicated 
men.  I  succeeeded  in  causing  a  suspension  of  hostilities,  and  quiet 
continued  during  the  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  last  day  before  reaching  Fort  Snelling,  as 
I  was  about  to  mount  my  horse  and  start  the  column  on  the  march,  a 
man  by  the  name  of  John  Pryor  of  the  13th  Indiana  Vols,  came  to 
me  and  complained  that  James  Stillfox,  from  a  Massachusetts  regi- 
ment, had  stolen  his  pocket  book  during  the  night.  My  assurance 
that  the  matter  should  be  investigated  when  we  reached  the  fort  seemed 
to  pacify  him,  and  he  started  to  take  his  place  in  the  ranks,  when  he 
met  Stillfox  and  at  once  demanded  his  pocket  book.  Stillfox  pro- 
tested that  he  did  not  have  it.  Seeing  trouble  I  spurred  my  horse  for- 
ward to  prevent  this,  but  just  as  I  reached  them,  Pryor  leveled  his 
gun  and  fired,  shooting  Stillfox  through  the  heart.  The  dead  man 
and  his  murderer  were  taken  to  Fort  Snelling  and  there  a  court  mar- 
tial was  soon  convened.  Pryor  was  found  guilty  of  murder  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  hung  on  a  given  date.     It  was  my  painful  duty  to  read 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-SEVEN 


to  him  his  death  warrant,  at  which  he  broke  down,  protesting  that  he 
did  not  know  what  he  was  doing  when  he  shot  Stillfox,  because  he 
was  drunk. 

At  this  time  there  were  in  confinement  at  Fort  Snelling  an  Indian 
warrior,  Wa-kan-o-zhan-zhan  (Medicine  Bottle),  who  boasted  of  hav- 
ing killed  twenty-one  persons  in  the  massacre  of  1862,  and  one  other 
warrior  under  sentence  of  death  for  participation  in  the  Indian  mas- 
sacre of  1862,  and  the  scaffold  was  made  ready  soon  after  I  reached 
there.  Again  the  people  of  Massachusetts  petitioned  the  president 
to  commute  the  sentence  hanging  over  these  red  men,  and  the  people 
of  St.  Paul  petitioned  the  president  to  commute  the  sentence  of  Pryor 
on  the  ground  that  no  white  man  had  ever  been  executed  in  Minnesota, 
and  they  did  not  wish  the  record  in  this  respect  broken.  The  result 
was  that  the  execution  of  the  two  Indians  was  postponed  till  October 
28,  1865,  and  Pryor's  sentence  was  commuted  to  imprisonment  for  life 
in   the   Indiana   penitentiary. 

My  arrival  at  Fort  Snelling  was  on  July  29,  1865,  and  the  next 
day  I  went  to  work  on  my  muster-out  roll  and,  a  week  or  so  later, 
presented  the  completed  rolls  to  the  mustering  officer,  when  I  was 
surprised  to  be  informed  that  all  my  work  had  been  for  naught,  that 
a  telegram  received  during  the  night  from  General  Pope  at  Chicago 
had  stated  that  General  Grant  had  directed  our  muster-out  to  be  sus- 
pended, and  that  my  company  and  the  other  three  companies  of  our 
battalion  be  retained  in  the  service  till  further  orders.  Some  of  my 
men  were  sorely  disappointed,  but  made  no  trouble.  As  for  myself  I 
wanted  to  be  discharged  on  some  accounts,  but,  on  the  whole,  now 
that  the  war  was  over,  I  did  not  mind  a  few  months  more  service. 
I  w"as  greatly  relieved  in  one  respect — the  detached  men  I  had  brought 
down  from  Fort  Ridgely  and  some  others,  to  the  number  of  one  hun- 
dred one,  all  of  whom  were  under  my  command,  were  sent  to  different 
states  for  muster-out.  My  command  seemed  small  after  they  had 
gone,  but  their  departure  was  a  great  relief.  My  own  company  now 
numbered  but  forty-five. 

At  Fort  Snelling  there  was  much  more  life  than  at  Ridgely,  and 
that  suited  my  taste.  The  line  officers  on  duty  were  few,  so  I  was  de- 
tailed as  officer  of  the  day  about  every  fourth  day.  St.  Paul  was  then 
visited  by  a  large  number  of  tourists,  and  nearly  all  made  a  visit  to  the 
fort,  and  I  thus  came  in  contact  with  many  pleasant  people.  All 
wished  to  see  the  Indian  chiefs  in  confinement  there,  and  as  I  held  the 
keys  to  the  place  of  confinement  when  serving  as  officer  of  the  day,  at 
those  times  all  such  called  on  me.  While  penning  these  lines  I  have 
read  a  letter  written  home  at  that  time,  and  in  one  I  said  that  when 
there  were  pretty  young  women  in  the  party  I  always  invited  them  to 
my  quarters,  where  I  showed  them  the  Indian  relics  that  adorned  the 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    SEVENTY-EIGHT 


for  board,  with  venison  served  nearly  every  meal,— rather  too  often  for 
it  to  be  very  highly  esteemed. 

walls.  I  am  wondering  now  whether  that  statement  was  not  a  mis- 
take, as  I  do  not  remember  of  being  influenced  in  that  manner.  I  do, 
however,  remember  distinctly  one  middle  aged  woman,  dressed  in  deep 
mourning,  who  said  she  was  from  the  South.  After  looking  at  Medi- 
cine Bottle  and  his  companion  in  chains,  she  turned  to  me  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  and  said,  "I  know  how  to  pity  them.  They  are  a  con- 
quered people."  Her  words  conveyed  so  much  meaning  I  have  never 
forgotten  them. 

Medicine  Bottle  had  a  pipe  that  I  much  coveted,  and  one  day  I 
asked  him  if  I  might  take  this  after  he  was  executed,  to  which  he 
replied,  "No,  I  shall  need  it  in  the  happy  hunting  grounds."  He  did, 
however,  give  me  a  pair  of  moccasins  he  made,  and  these  I  still  have, 
attached  to  which  is  his  picture.  His  execution  took  place  a  short 
time  after  I  left  the  fort  for  Fort  Leavenworth. 

Early  in  October  Col.  Tamblyn,  with  Cos.  A,  F,  and  G,  arrived 
at  Fort  Snelling  from  their  respective  forts  at  the  north,  and  prepara- 
tions were  commenced  for  the  departure  of  these  companies  and  my 
own  for  Kansas.  October  14  found  us  marching  for  the  city  of  St. 
Paul.  There  we  made  a  brief  halt  and  were  addressed  by  Governor 
Sibley,  the  same  man  spoken  of  in  previous  pages  as  general,  then  the 
governor  of  the  state. 

While  at  Fort  Ridgely  I  was  given  by  Col.  Pfaender,  the  post 
commander,  a  recommendation  for  a  commission  in  the  regular  army, 
and  while  at  Fort  Snelling  this  had  been  indorsed  favorably  by  General 
Ramsey,  in  command  of  the  department,  and  by  General  Corse.  I  still 
have  the  papers,  as  I  never  made  an  application  to  the  war  depart- 
ment for  a  position.  Ephraim  William,  the  first  lieutenant  of  Co.  A, 
presented  similar  recommendations  and  was  given  a  commission  as 
second  lieutenant  in  the  regular  army,  and  spent  his  life  in  the  service, 
and  lost  a  leg  in  a  fight  with  the  same  Indians  in  Kansas,  whom  we 
met  after  leaving  Snelling. 

After  listening  to  the  speech  of  the  governor  of  Minnesota  and  par- 
taking of  some  refreshments  generously  furnished  by  some  of  the  public 
spirited  men  of  the  city,  we  boarded  a  steamer  in  waiting  for  our  trip 
down  the  river. 

Our  trip  down  the  river  was  a  repetition  in  some  respects  of  the 
trip  up.  The  water  was  of  about  the  same  stage  as  then,  and  conse- 
quently the  paddle  wheel  floats  were  occasionally  smashed  in  crossing 
a  sandbar,  and  then  there  was  a  delay  till  the  wheel  could  be  mended. 
There  were  but  few  passengers  on  the  boat  besides  our  battalion,  and, 
as  the  men  carried  their  own  rations,  the  number  of  boarders  was 
small,  being  confined  to  the  officers.  The  small  number  may  have 
been  the  cause  of  the  high  price,  three  dollars  per  day  being  charged 

PAGE    ONE   HUNDRED   SEVENTY-NINE 


It  happened  that  I  so  often  saw  the  evils  of  strong  drink  on  my 
men,  that  I  had  but  little  patience  in  dealing  with  it,  and  sometimes 
allowed  my  authority,  backed  as  it  was  by  force,  to  go  further  than  I 
had  any  legal  right  to  go.  An  instance  of  this  kind  occurred  on  this 
boat.  There  was  a  licensed  rumseller  on  board,  who  sold  without 
limit  to  whoever  wished  to  buy.  The  second  day  on  the  river  I  was 
officer  of  the  day  and  therefore  in  immediate  command  of  all  things 
concerning  the  welfare  of  the  troops  on  board.  I  had  not  been  on 
duty  long  when  I  discovered  that  the  enlisted  men  were  imbibing  too 
much,  and  I  forbade  the  bartender  to  sell  any  more  to  the  enlisted 
men.  He  promised  he  would  not,  but  I  very  soon  noticed  that  the 
deck  hands  of  the  boat  made  very  frequent  purchases,  and,  instead  of 
drinking  the  stuff  at  the  bar,  they  carried  it  off  in  bottles.  I  very  nat- 
urally concluded  that  the  enlisted  men  were  the  real  purchasers,  and  I 
therefore  forbade  the  bartender  to  sell  to  the  boat  hands  any  liquor 
to  carry  away.  As  he  would  not  promise  to  do  this,  I  promptly  put  an 
armed  guard  into  the  barroom  with  orders  not  to  allow  any  of  the 
enlisted  men  to  drink  and  not  to  allow  anybody  to  carry  any  liquor 
out  of  the  room.  At  this  the  bartender  went  into  the  air.  He  said  he 
paid  his  license  and  hired  that  room,  and  had  a  legal  right  to  sell  to 
anybody,  and  I  had  no  right  to  stop  him.  I  allowed  he  might  be  cor- 
rect, but  as  long  as  I  was  on  duty,  he  would  not  sell  to  the  enlisted 
men  on  board,  and  he  did  not.  A  similar  case  occurred  at  a  village  in 
Minnesota,  where  I  had  made  a  halt  when  on  the  march.  I  put  a 
guard  at  the  doors  of  a  drinking  saloon,  and  kept  it  there  as  long  as  I 
remained  in  the  village,  and  so  prevented  my  men  from  getting  intoxi- 
cated, notwithstanding  the  proprietor  protested  that  I  had  no  right  to 
proclaim  martial  law  in  that  village. 

One  day  in  September,  1865,  occurred  an  eclipse  of  the  sun.  I 
remember  the  boat  was  laid  up  on  a  rocky  bar  in  the  river  at  Keokuk 
the  greater  part  of  that  day,  and  all  the  officers  viewed  the  eclipse 
from  the  deck  through  smoked  glass.  The  government  had  sought  to 
improve  the  channel  at  this  point,  and  a  great  mass  of  stone  blown  from 
the  channel  lay  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Mississippi.  This  stone  was 
largely  composed  of  fossil  remains  of  shells,  and  there  I  gathered  a 
few  fine  specimens  that  now  grace  my  cabinet. 

Arriving  at  Hannibal,  Mo.,  we  disembarked  and  proceeded  by 
train  across  the  state  of  Missouri  to  St.  Joseph.  Here  we  again  took 
a  boat  and  proceeded  down  the  Missouri  river  a  few  miles  to  Fort 
Leavenworth,  where  we  went  into  camp  to  prepare  for  a  trip  to  our 
destination  on  the  plains,  four  hundred  fifty  miles  west  of  that  point. 

Here  the  difference  in  the  water  of  the  Missouri  river  from  that  in 
the  Mississippi  was  very  noticeable.  The  water  of  the  later  stream  was 
clear,  but  that  of  the  Missouri  was  muddy,  so  thick  one  could  not  see 
an  inch  below  the  surface.  A  pail  of  its  water  left  standing  over  night 
would  contain  two  or  three  inches  of  sediment  in  the  morning. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY 


CHAPTER  XIII 
LIFE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE 

At  the  time  we  went  to  Leavenworth,  Ben  Holliday's  overland 
express  line  to  California  was  in  operation,  its  route  east  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  being  along  the  Platte  river  in  Nebraska,  and  Butterfield 
was  seeking  to  establish  a  rival  line  from  Atkinson,  Kansas,  to  Denver, 
Colorado,  and  on  to  California.  A  route  had  been  selected,  and  ranches 
for  the  keeping  of  the  necessary  stock  for  the  exchange  of  horses  or 
mules  on  the  stage  coaches  had  been  established  across  the  plains. 
This  was  called  the  Smoky  Hill  route  and  was  pretty  much  the  same 
as  where  now  runs  the  Smoky  Hill  branch  of  the  Union  Pacific  rail- 
road from  Atkinson  to  Denver.  This  route  was  through  territory  that 
had,  up  to  that  time,  been  in  the  undisputed  possession  of  several  of 
the  tribes  of  wild  Indians,  the  Comanches,  Arrapahoes,  Cheyennes, 
Apaches,  Kiawas,  and  a  part  of  the  Sioux  nation.  This  territory  was 
neutral  ground,  all  these  tribes  occupying  it  in  common  at  their  pleas- 
ure. Naturally  these  Indians  did  not  take  kindly  to  a  road  through 
their  hunting  grounds,  and  they  promptly  showed  their  displeasure  by 
taking  the  war  path. 

On  arriving  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  an  order  was  issued  assigning  the 
companies  of  Col.  Tamblyn's  battalion  along  this  line.  Col.  Tamblyn, 
with  Cos.  F  and  G,  was  to  establish  a  post  to  be  called  Fort  Fletcher, 
three  hundred  miles  west  of  Fort  Leavenworth;  now  known  as  Fort 
Hayes;  Capt.  Strout,  with  Co.  A,  was  to  proceed  one  hundred  miles 
further  west  and  establish  a  post  at  Monument,  on  the  same  stream, 
while  my  destination  was  Pond  Creek  station,  fifty  miles  beyond  Mon- 
ument, on  Pond  Creek,  which  emptied  into  the  Smoky  Hill.  This 
order  made  my  destination  four  hundred  fifty  miles  west  of  Leaven- 
worth. 

We  went  into  camp  near  the  fort  and  were  soon  busily  engaged 
in  preparing  for  our  long  march  and  winter's  work  on  the  plains  of 
western  Kansas.  Two  six-mule  teams  were  assigned  to  each  company 
for  their  permanent  use,  in  which  we  were  to  carry  the  company  sup- 
plies, tents,  commissary  and  quartermaster's  stores  for  immediate  use. 
Four  wagon  trains  of  twenty-five  six-mule  teams  each  and  one  train  of 
nine  six-mule  teams,  each  under  the  charge  of  a  wagon  master,  were 
loaded  with  further  supplies,  camp  and  garrison  equipage,  lumber  for 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED    EIGHTY-ONE 


a  hospital,  etc.  The  .number  of  mules,  including  spare  mules  for  con- 
tingencies, numbered  about  six  hundred  seventy-five,  while  the  entire 
number  of  men  of  the  battalion  was  slightly  over  two  hundred  fifty. 
Two  trains  were  to  be  unloaded  at  Fort  Fletcher  and  return  to  Leaven- 
worth from  there.  The  others  were  to  deliver  their  freight  to  Monu- 
ment and  Pond  Creek  and  then  to  turn  south  and  proceed  to  Fort 
Lyon  on  the  Arkansas  river,  and  from  there  bring  further  supplies  for 
the  ports  at  Monument  and  Pond  Creek. 

These  large  army  wagons,  covered  with  cloth,  and  others  even 
larger  drawn  by  six  mules  or  more  or  six  or  more  oxen,  used  by  the 
emigrants  and  freighters  in  crossing  the  plains,  were  known  as  prairie 
schooners.  The  driver  of  each  team  sat  on  the  nigh  wheel  mule,  and 
guided  the  animals  by  a  single  rein  attached  to  the  nigh  leader.  In 
his  right  hand  he  swung  a  long  whip  with  such  dexterity  that  he  could 
plant  a  blow  at  any  point  desired,  even  on  the  heads  of  his  leaders. 
The  science  of  driving  consisted  of  a  series  of  jerks  with  the  rein,  a 
liberal  use  of  the  whip,  and  a  constant  stream  of  yells  and  oaths. 
Treated  in  this  way  the  mule  rarely  failed  to  do  faithful  service  wher- 
ever placed.  He  could  be  relied  upon  in  two  ways — as  a  willing 
worker  and  sure  to  let  fly  his  heels  whenever  a  person  came  within 
striking  distance. 

Business  took  me  two  or  three  times  to  the  city  of  Leavenworth, 
then  in  a  crude  formative  state,  having  a  large  element  of  gamblers 
and  disreputable  people.  The  highway  between  the  city  and  the  fort, 
two  or  three  miles,  was  considered  unsafe  even  in  the  day  time, 
because  infested  with  robbers  and  highwaymen. 

We  broke  camp  and  started  on  our  long  march.  Rain  fell  most 
of  the  time  during  the  first  two  or  three  days,  and  the  roads  were 
heavy,  the  soil  being  clayey,  similar  to  that  of  Virginia,  but  the  mud 
soon  disappeared  with  the  appearance  of  the  sun  and  we  then  made 
about  twenty  miles  each  day.  We  usually  went  into  camp  about  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  and  the  mules  were  turned  out  to  graze  till 
night,  when  they  were  brought  up  and  attached  to  the  tongues  of  the 
wagons.  In  this  way  they  required  but  little  meal  or  corn  from  the 
supply  carried  on  the  wagons. 

On  the  fourth  of  November  we  encamped  at  Indianola  in  the 
Pottawatomie  reservation,  about  eighty  miles  nearer  the  setting  sun  than 
when  we  started.  On  the  march  the  men  were  not  obliged  to 
keep  company  formations,  and,  there  being  so  many  wagons,  a  man 
had  no  difficulty  in  taking  a  ride  whenever  so  disposed.  Infantry  line 
officers  are  not  entitled  to  horses,  but  most  of  us  provided  ourselves 
with  mounts,  preferring  to  ride  rather  than  walk  and  the  better  to 
attend  to  our  duties  under  existing  circumstances,  and  to  be  armed 
and  equipped  for  buffalo  hunting  when  we  should  reach   the  buffalo 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-TWO 


country.  I  purchased  a  good  saddle  horse  for  $125,  and  a  most  hardy, 
useful  animal  he  proved  to  be  during  all  the  months  of  my  service  on 
the  plains.  At  our  camp  at  Indianola,  the  heavens  were  made  lurid 
at  night  by  the  burning  of  the  prairie,  and  the  few  dwellings  then 
standing  there  narrowly  escaped  destruction. 

The  Potawatami  Indians  occupying  this  reservation  were  called 
civilized,  and  apparently  were  entitled  to  this  designation.  They  culti- 
vated the  soil,  raised  small  herds  of  stock,  and  lived  in  log  houses. 
These  houses  were  usually  about  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  square  and  con- 
tained two  rooms  each.  Two  of  these  houses  were  frequently  facing 
each  other,  perhaps  fifteen  feet  apart,  and  one  roof  covered  the 
two  houses  and  the  space  between.  St.  Mary's  Mission,  a  Catholic 
institution,  furnished  facilities  for  an  education.  Polygamy  was  still 
practiced  among  them.     They  seemed  happy  and  prosperous. 

Much  of  the  land  on  this  reservation  was  low  and  marshy,  and 
fever  and  ague  prevailed  to  a  wide  extent.  Hardly  a  house  at  this 
season  of  the  year  but  had  its  victims.  Through  sleeping  on  the  wet 
ground  and  breathing  malarial  air  I  was  prostrated  with  what  was 
called  the  dumb  ague,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  army  experience 
rode  in  an  ambulance  because  unable  to  sit  in  the  saddle.  On  this 
occasion  the  ambulance  went  ahead  of  the  column  and  stopped  for  the 
day  at  Fort  Riley,  where  I  rested  in  the  quarters  of  one  of  the  officers. 

A  day  or  two  later  our  column  passed  through  Junction  City,  a 
small  but  rapidly  growing  village.  Among  the  people  who  were 
watching  our  march  through  the  town,  we  recognized  Capt.  J.  H. 
Prescott,  recently  of  our  old  regiment,  the  12th  N.  H.  Vols.  This 
regiment  had  been  mustered  out  a  few  months  before,  and  Capt.  Pres- 
cott was  in  the  west,  looking  for  a  place  to  settle.  He  selected  Salina, 
at  that  time  the  most  western  settlement  in  Kansas.  His  growth  was 
as  rapid  as  'the  country  of  his  choice.  He  commenced  the  practice  of 
law,  was  soon  after  appointed,  or  elected,  a  judge,  and  became  one  of 
the  leading  men  in  that  portion  of  the  state.  At  that  time  Salina  had 
but  half  a  dozen  houses,  but  a  few  years  later  I  received  from  Capt. 
Prescott,  a  descriptive  pamphlet  of  the  place.  It  was  then  a  place  of 
considerable  size,  with  wide  avenues,  public  parks,  and  public  buildings 
and  a  street  car  service.  On  "Prescott  avenue"  was  shown  the  fine 
residence  of  Judge  J.  H.  Prescott.  This  incident  shows  how  eastern 
young  men  of  push  and  character  rapidly  came  to  the  front  and  made 
their  mark  in  this  new  country. 

Lieut.  Eaton  and  I  passed  a  few  hours  pleasantly  with  Capt.  Pres- 
cott, recounting  the  past  and  anticipating  the  future,  and  'then  rejoined 
our  command  in  camp  that  afternoon. 

At  Salina  we  passed  the  last  dwelling  house  on  the  frontier.  Here 
was  located  a  public  house,  on   the   outside  of  which  was   spread   an 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-THREE 


immense  piece  of  canvas  on  which  was  lettered:  "The  last  chance  to 
procure  a  square  meal."  The  price  was  one  dollar.  We  looked  inside 
at  the  small  table  spread  in  the  middle  of  the  room  that  constituted  the 
first  story,  and  concluded  we  would  let  the  last  chance  pass  and  trust 
to  army  supplies  for  our  next  meal,  rather  than  partake  of  a  meal  in 
that  place. 

Here,  with  three  hundred  miles  still  before  us,  we  left  the  habita- 
tions of  civilized  men  behind  us,  and  entered  that  vast  tract  of  country 
called  the  Great  American  desert,  the  domain  of  the  Indians,  the  buf- 
falo, the  antelope,  the  deer  and  the  wolf. 

Buffalo  Hunting 

As  we  progressed,  indications  that  we  were  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
buffalo  multiplied,  but  it  was  not  till  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
out  that  we  had  the  opportunity  of  trying  the  mettle  of  our  horses  in 
a  buffalo  chase.  Then,  in  company  of  several  other  officers,  we  rode 
a  few  miles  in  advance  of  the  column,  and  soon  saw  a  herd  of  six, 
a  mile  or  so  in  advance  to  our  left.  They  were  tearing  along  at  a 
rapid  rate,  leaving  a  cloud  of  dust  behind  them.  It  was  but  the  work 
of  a  moment  to  note  the  direction  they  were  traveling,  and  then,  put- 
ting spurs  to  our  horses,  we  sought  to  reach  a  spot  they  would  pass. 
The  ground  here  was  a  rolling  prairie,  and  from  the  time  we  started 
till  we  reined  up  our  horses  a  few  minutes  later  on  a  commanding 
position,  we  had  seen  nothing  of  our  game,  but  we  had  hardly  time 
to  take  a  long  breath  and  look  about  us  when  these  same  animals 
came  in  sight,  this  time  only  a  few  rods  distant  and  coming  straight 
as  an  arrow  to  where  we  were.  In  looks,  the  buffalo  is  a  most  fero- 
cious animal.  In  running,  he  carries  his  head  near  the  ground,  and  a 
sharp,  ugly  eye  from  behind  a  mass  of  long  tangled  hair  is  enough  to 
strike  terror  to  any  horse  or  man  not  accustomed  to  his  habits.  When 
wounded,  the  bulls  are  dangerous,  but  usually  they  will  run  before 
they  will  fight.  Ordinarily  a  herd  when  traveling  takes  a  straight 
course  and  is  not  easily  turned  to  the  right  or  left,  but  the  statement 
so  often  heard  that  a  herd  of  buffalo  cannot  be  turned  from  its  course 
is  without  foundation,  as  we  several  times  demonstrated  for  the  purpose 
of  testing  its  truth.  Ordinarily,  the  larger  the  herd  the  harder  the 
work  of  turning  it  and  the  more  persistently  the  leaders  are  followed. 
We  do  not  mean  that  a  herd  may  be  turned  square  about,  but  simply 
that  they  may  be  turned  from  a  straight  course.  On  this  occasion  the 
buffalo  advanced  with  a  seeming  determination  to  annihilate  our  party, 
then  turned  slightly  to  the  left,  and  passed  within  a  few  feet  of  us. 
They  struck  terror  to  the  horses,  if  not  to  the  riders,  and  the  horses 
reared  and  plunged  to  such  an  extent  it  was  impossible  to  fire  a  shot. 
As  soon  as  they  had  passed,  we  followed  in  hot  pursuit,  but  it  was 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-FOUR 


impossible  to  overtake  them,  and  they  escaped.  Though  we  frequently 
joined  in  the  hunt  later  and  saw  herds  extending  many  miles,  yet 
on  no  subsequent  occasion  was  the  excitement  equal  to  this  after- 
noon. We  could  not  dismiss  them  from  our  thoughts,  when  we  closed 
our  eyes  that  night,  and  all  night  long  visions  of  flying  herds  were  con- 
stantly seen,  and  our  escapes  from  death  beneath  their  hoofs  were 
numerous  and  miraculous. 

As  we  advanced,  wolves  became  very  numerous.  There  were  two 
species,  the  small  coyote,  or  prairie  wolf,  and  the  grey,  or  buffalo,  wolf. 
The  former,  the  most  numerous,  were  but  little  larger  than  a  fox,  but 
the  latter  were  much  larger. 

But  few  of  the  coyotes  were  seen  in  the  day  time,  but  as  night 
approached,  they  gathered  in  vast  numbers,  frequently  entirely  sur- 
rounding our  camp,  being  attracted  from  miles  around  by  the  odor  of 
food.  Then  commenced  a  concert  that  lasted  all  night.  Disappointed 
at  not  appeasing  their  appetites,  it  seemed  that  every  wolf  turned 
against  his  neighbor,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  howls  that  baffle  des- 
cription. Multiply  an  ordinary  cat  concert  a  thousand  times,  and  the 
reader  may  have  some  idea  of  the  music  that  lulled  us  to  sleep  many 
a  night.  It  seemed  at  times  that,  emboldened  by  their  vast  numbers, 
they  certainly  would  rush  into  camp  and  devour  the  entire  party,  but 
beyond  disturbing  our  slumbers  they  did  us  no  harm.  Later  on,  these 
concerts  were  more  welcomed  because  it  was  said  their  presence  indi- 
cated that  no  Indians  were  about. 

Wood  was  a  scarce  article,  and  we  depended  almost  entirely  for 
fuel  upon  buffalo  chips — dried  buffalo  manure.  These  chips  were  very 
plentiful,  and  immediately,  upon  halting  for  the  night,  a  supply  was 
gathered.  The  burning  chips  made  a  comfortable  fire,  emitting  an 
odor  like  burning  grass.  Our  camp  stove  was  like  a  huge  tunnel, 
placed  on  the  ground,  the  top  provided  with  a  small  funnel  to  carry 
off  the  smoke,  but  with  no  bottom.  One  difficulty  with  these  chips 
was  they  made  a  great  amount  of  ashes,  and  frequently  the  stove  had 
to  be  lifted  and  the  ashes  thrown  out,  or  the  stove  moved  to  a  new 
position. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  command  at  his  destination,  Gol.  Tamblyn 
at  once  established  a  post,  which  was  named  Fort  Fletcher,  near  where 
now  stands  Fort  Harper. 

We  were  now  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country.  Indeed,  along 
this  creek,  until  our  arrival,  had  been  the  homes  of  the  red  man,  but 
they  had  now  disappeared,  and  their  disappearance  was  ominous  of 
trouble,  because  all  Indians,  if  friendly,  are  sure  to  make  themselves 
familiar  and  generally  offensively  so.  This  spot  was  selected  for  a 
station  because  near  by  was  timber  in  sufficient  quantities  to  fur- 
nish material  for  the  erection  of  quarters. 

PAGE   ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-FIVE 


The  two  trains  with  supplies  for  Fort  Fletcher  were  unloaded  there 
and  returned  to  Fort  Leavenworth. 

After  a  rest  of  a  day  or  two  at  Fort  Fletcher,  Capt.  Strout,  in  com- 
mand of  Co.  A,  and  I  with  my  company,  started  for  our  destinations 
at  Monument  andPond  Creek,  respectively.  We  took  along  two  wagon 
trains  of  twenty-five  six-mule  wagons  each  and  one  train  of  nine 
wagons,  having  supplies  for  our  stations. 

The  first  three  days  out,  the  weather  was  fine,  the  trail  in  good 
condition,  and  we  covered  a  longer  distance  than  usual.  A  vast  num- 
ber of  buffalo  were  in  sight,  and  we  killed  two  or  three  to  furnish  meat 
for  the  men  of  our  commands.  Indeed,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
the  prairie  was  black  with  these  great  creatures,  and  the  men  were  ex- 
ceedingly impatient  to  go  into  camp  that  they  might  have  an  hour  for 
hunting.  In  killing  these  buffalo  for  food,  the  young  animals  were 
always  selected  because  the  meat  was  so  much  more  tender  and  palat- 
able than  that  of  the  older  ones;  but  compared  with  first  class  beef  even 
the  tenderest  was  tough.  The  steak  of  the  older  animals  was  simply 
masticated,  and  but  seldom  swallowed.  Quite  frequently  only  the 
tongue  and  liver  were  taken  for  food. 

On  the  fourth  day — Sunday — we  went  into  camp  early,  about  noon, 
a  favorable  place  for  feeding  the  mules  being  offered  on  the  bottom 
land  on  the  Smoky  Hill  river.  Without  authority  from  Capt.  Strout, 
who  was  the  ranking  captain  and  therefore  in  command,  the  small  train 
of  nine  wagons  under  a  wagon  master  named  Livingstone,  had  gone  into 
camp  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  others.  This  man,  since 
leaving  Leavenworth,  had  been  making  complaints  that  the  men  of  the 
other  trains  were  stealing  from  his  train  and  so  he  wanted  to  be  by 
himself.  The  buffalo  had  largely  passed  out  of  sight,  but  Capt.  Strout 
and  many  of  the  men  and  teamsters  promptly  went  hunting  after  get- 
ting settled  in  camp.  About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  while  reading 
in  my  tent,  a  soldier  came  in  from  off  the  prairie  in  breathless  haste 
and  reported  that  he  had  seen  Indians.  Taking  my  field  glass  I 
ascended  a  bluff  close  at  hand,  and  at  once  discovered  a  band  of  Indians 
mounted  on  fleet  ponies,  stampeding  the  mules  of  Livingstone's  train. 
Swinging  their  blankets  in  the  air  and  yelling  like  demons,  they  swept 
down  upon  the  herd  guarded  by  only  a  few  teamsters.  The  Indians 
paid  no  attention  to  the  herders,  so  intent  were  they  in  securing  the 
animals,  and  the  herders,  mute  with  astonishment,  offered  not  the  least 
resistance.  Every  mule  in  the  herd,  fifty-seven  in  number,  in  a  wild 
fright,  was  instantly  flying  over  the  prairie,  followed  by  the  Indians. 

Leaving  Lieut.  Hedge  in  command  of  the  camp,  I  hastily  mounted 
a  small  number  of  men  on  mules  and  started  in  pursuit.  But  the  In- 
dians had  had  a  start  of  several  minutes,  and,  realizing  the  hopeless- 
ness of  overtaking  them,  not  even  once  seeing  them  after   I   started, 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-SIX 


after  a  few  miles  ride,  I  returned  to  camp  and  directed  efforts  to  pre- 
vent further  surprises  and  losses.  The  mules  belonging  to  the  other 
trains  were  brought  up,  and  the  trains  corralled  with  the  tents,  or 
bivouac,  for  the  men  inside  the  corral.  Then  taking  enough  harnessed 
mules  I  went  with  teamsters  to  Livingstone's  camp  and  drew  his  nine 
wagons  to  our  camp.  Here  the  contents  of  his  wagons  were  distributed 
among  the  wagons  of  the  other  trains  and  the  empty  wagons  abandoned. 
The  next  June,  in  going  east,  I  saw  these  same  wagons  still  standing 
where  we  had  left  them.  The  afternoon  and  night  passed  without  fur- 
ther alarm,  but  towards  night  a  smoke  was  'seen  a  few  miles  to  the 
west,  which  we  understood  to  mean  that  the  Indians  were  at  work  at 
a  ranch  just  west  of  us,  and  so  the  events  of  the  morrow  proved. 

The  next  morning  we  moved  early.  As  a  precautionary  measure 
the  canvas  on  the  tops  of  the  wagons  was  rolled  back  a  few  feet  from 
the  front  and,  on  each  wagon,  one  or  two  men  were  posted  in  readi- 
ness to  fire  on  any  advancing  foe,  and  the  teamsters  had  orders,  in  case 
of  an  attack,  to  instantly  throw  the  trains  into  a  corral.  In  order  that 
this  might  be  done  the  more  readily,  the  trains  moved  in  two  parallel 
columns. 

We  had  proceeded  but  a  few  miles  when  I  discovered  with  my 
glass  a  party  seated  on  the  ground  in  a  circle,  in  true  Indian  style,  a 
half  mile  in  advance  of  us.  Supposing  this  party  to  be  Indians  I  took 
a  dozen  men  and  advanced  under  cover  of  a  ravine  to  within  rifle  shot, 
intending  to  fire  on  them  without  warning,  but,  I  discovered  that  the 
party  consisted  of  six  white  men  and  two  women.  One  of  the  men 
approached  me  with  his  head  uncovered  and  I  approached  him  in  the 
same  way.  They  were  ranchers  in  the  employ  of  the  Overland  Dis- 
patch Company  at  stations  west  of  us.  They  reported  that  the  Indians 
bad  driven  off  all  the  stock  of  the  company  at  their  stations,  and  that 
they  'had  left  the  ranches,  fearing  a  return  of  the  savages  and  the  loss 
of  their  lives.  They  had  been  traveling  east  for  two  days  with  but 
little  food,  keeping  all  the  time  in  the  ravines  from  fear  of  being  dis- 
covered. They  reported  that  the  night  before  they  had  passed  to  the 
north  of  the  next  ranch  west  of  us  and  saw  a  fire  there  and  heard 
scream's,  and  they  feared  the  ranchmen  were  being  tortured  by  the  In- 
dians. We  gave  these  people  food  and  they  gladly  accepted  our  propo- 
sition to  remain  with  us. 

The  ranches,  spoken  of  above,  were  habitations  of  the  rudest  des- 
cription possible,  sometimes  simply  holes  in  the  ground,  covered  with 
brush  and  earth,  where  one  or  two  men  lived  all  alone,  from  twelve  to 
fifteen  miles  distant  from  neighbors,  their  occupation  being  to  care  for 
the  stock  necessary  to  operate  the  proposed  stage  line  and  change  the 
horses  or  mules  of  the  stage  coaches  that  were  expected  but  did  not 
come,  at  least   that  year.     That  men  could  be  found  for  such  a  duty  as 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-SEVEN 


this  seems  incredible,  and  yet  the  company  found  plenty  to  perform 
this  service,  a  single  man  being  found  at  some  of  these  ranches,  and  at 
others  a  man  and  his  wife. 

Indian  Cruelties 

As  we  approached  the  next  ranch,  Downer's,  on  our  march,  in  com- 
pany with  two  or  three  others  I  rode  ahead  of  the  train  a  little,  and 
a  ghastly  sight  met  our  eyes.  Here  we  found  three  dead  men.  The 
body  of  one  lay  in  front  of  the  ranch,  stripped  of  all  clothing,  and  from 
his  chest  protruded  more  than  twenty  arrows.  One  was  driven  into 
his  ear  and  ghastly  wounds  had  been  inflicted  on  various  parts  of  his 
body.  Not  far  away  lay  another  dead  man,  also  nude,  his  body  pierced 
with  many  arrows,  his  tongue  cut  out,  and  he  was  otherwise  namelessly 
mutilated.  In  the  rear  of  the  ranch  a  still  more  sickening  sight  met 
our  view.  Here  the  fiends  had  made  a  fire  of  boards,  t*hat  had  just 
been  delivered  there  for  the  construction  of  quarters,  and  such  other 
combustible  material  as  the  ranch  afforded,  and  across  the  yet  smoul- 
dering embers  lay  the  body  of  a  man  half  consumed  from  the  knees  to 
the  shoulders.  The  arms  were  drawn  to  the  chest,  the  hands  clenched, 
and  every  feature  of  the  face  indicated  that  the  man  had  died  in  agony. 
Without  doubt  he  had  been  burned  alive.  Not  content  with  this,  be- 
fore leaving  their  victim,  they  had  inflicted  other  indgnities  on  the  life- 
less remains.  When  we  removed  the  remains  for  burial  the  elbows 
unjointed.  Our  friends  whom  we  had  rescued  had  rightly  divined  that 
fiendish  work  was  being  enacted  here  when  they  passed  this  point  the 
night  before. 

We  halted  here  long  enough  to  give  the  remains  of  these  men  de- 
cent burial  and  then  resumed  the  march,  but  we  had  proceeded  but  two 
or  three  miles  when  we  found  further  work  of  these  fiends  on  the  day 
before.  The  Indians  had  evidently  overtaken  a  party  of  three  car- 
penters, in  the  employ  of  the  Overland  company,  on  the  road  with  a 
wagon  drawn  by  two  mules.  It  was  evident  the  men  had  deserted 
the  wagon,  probably  hoping  the  Indians  cared  more  for  the  plunder 
than  for  them,  but  none  escaped.  The  mules  had  been  taken  and  the 
wagon  burned.  About  forty  rods  from  the  wagon  one  man  was  struck 
down,  and  there  we  found  his  remains,  and  a  little  further  off  the  re- 
mains of  the  second  man  were  found.  Both  of  these  had  evidently 
fallen  easy  victims  to  the  savages,  but  not  so  the  third.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  a  "buffalo  wallow"  and  there  evidently  had  made  a 
gallant  fight  for  his  life.  A  buffalo  wallow  is  a  large  circular  hole  in 
the  ground  made  by  the  buffalo.  The  buffalo,  in  order  to  rid  himself  of 
tormenting  insects,  lies  on  the  ground,  and  kicks  himself  around  in  a 
circle  using  one  horn  for  a  pivot.     Having  once  started  a  wallow,  the 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-EIGHT 


same  spot  is  used  by  many  animals  in  turn  until  they  sometimes  ex- 
cavate a  space  a  foot  deep  and  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  this  depres- 
sion with  the  earth  thrown  up  on  the  rim  of  the  circle  made  a  breast- 
work that  afforded  considerable  protection  for  a  man  with  modern  arms. 
It  was  in  one  of  these  wallows  that  the  third  man  had  taken  refuge, 
and  the  large  number  of  empty  shells  of  the  Smith  &  Wesson  rifle, 
lying  about,  showed  that  he  had  sold  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible.  But 
in  time  his  ammunition  was  exhausted  and  then  he,  too,  fell  a  victim. 
These  three,  like  the  three  found  earlier  in  the  day,  had  been  mutilated 
but  evidently  not  till  death  had  claimed  them.  Again  we  paused  long 
enough  to  bury  the  dead  and  then  resumed  the  march.  A  sharp  look- 
out was  kept  during  the  day  for  Indians.  None  showed  themselves, 
however,  but  smoke  was  seen  in  various  directions,  indicating  their 
presence  within  a  short  distance,  and  possibly  signalling  among  them- 
selves. 

This  day  vast  numbers  of  buffalo  were  seen.  Indeed,  our  march 
all  day  was  through  immense  herds  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  all  moving  south,  as  usual,  at  this  season  of  the  year.  At  times 
they  were  on  the  run  and  there  was  great  danger  of  stampeding  the 
train.  At  such  times  the  men  could  see  in  their  movements  the  direct- 
ing hand  of  the  Indians.  No  buffalo  were  killed  this  day  as  the  dis- 
charge of  a  gun  was  to  be  the  signal  of  danger.  On  the  whole  the  day 
was  one  of  great  anxiety  and  danger.  When  we  started  in  the  morn- 
ing, nearly  two  full  days'  march  lay  between  us  and  Monument  but,  in 
view  of  existing  conditions,  it  was  thought  best  to  cover  the  distance 
that  day.  A  halt  was  made  at  noon,  the  mules  fed  from  the  grain  in 
the  wagons  and  we  again  pushed  on.  We  reached  Monument  just  at 
night  and  here  we  found  a  company  of  the  13th  Missouri  Cavalry  under 
command  of  Capt.  Schnell,  which  had  preceded  us  a  week  or  two,  to  do 
garrison  duty  in  connection  with  Co.  A  of  our  battalion.  Another  com- 
pany of  this  cavalry,  under  command  of  Capt.  McMichael,  had  gone  to 
Pond  Creek  to  do  garrison  duty  in  connection  with  my  company. 

At  Monument  we  found  one  man  belonging  to  the  cavalry  who  had 
had  his  scalp  taken  by  Indians.  It  seemed  that  a  few  days  before  our 
arrival  two  men  were  on  the  prairie  hunting  when  they  were  fired  on  by 
Indians  in  hiding.  One  was  killed  outright  and  the  other  wounded. 
The  wounded  man  feigned  dead  as  the  Indians,  gloating  over  their 
fiendish  work,  came  up.  One  Indian  struck  him  on  the  ispine  with  his 
tomahawk,  but  still  he  showed  no  signs  of  life.  Then  another  passed 
his  knife  around  the  outskirts  of  his  hair,  and,  with  a  quick,  strong 
pull,  stripped  the  scalp  from  his  head,  leaving  the  cranium  entirely  bare. 
Then  they  left  him.  After  a  little  he  got  up  and  walked  half  way  to  the 
station,  became  bewildered,  and  going  back,  again  laid  down  beside 
his  dead  companion.     In  this  position  he  was  found  later  by  comrades, 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    EIGHTY-NINE 


taken  to  the  station  and  his  wounds  dressed.  Strange  to  say  he  was 
in  a  fair  way  to  recovery  when  he  took  cold  by  his  own  carelessness 
and  soon  after  died. 

Preparations  for  the  night  were  hastily  made,  a  strong  picket  and 
guard  stationed,  and  the  men  bivouacked  for  the  night.  Quiet  had 
hardly  rested  on  the  encampment  when  the  silence  was  broken  by  a 
picket  calling,  "Who  comes  there?"  Every  head  was  lifted  from  the 
knapsack  pillow  and  every  eye  was  turned  toward  an  approaching  ob- 
ject. "Halt,"  cried  the  picket,  when,  in  response,  the  heavy  bray  of  a 
mule  sounded  on  the  night  air,  and,  paying  no  attention  to  the  chal- 
lenge, he  trotted  into  camp.  This  mule  had  given  out  that  day  on  the 
march  and  been  abandoned,  but  rest  and  a  few  hours  grazing  had  re- 
vived him  and  he  concluded  not  to  furnish  a  meal  for  the  wolves. 

Our  camp  was  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Smoky  Hill  creek,  a  most 
erratic  stream.  At  times,  or  at  certain  places,  its  waters  were  seen 
flowing  over  the  bed  of  the  stream;  at  other  places  the  bed  of  the 
stream  was  on  top  and  the  waters  beneath,  making  their  way  east 
through  the  sand.  Extending  to  the  north  a  mile  or  more  was  a  stretch 
of  rich  bottom  land  covered  with  a  rich  growth  of  prairie  grass,  now 
dry.  Beyond  were  the  "monuments"  from  Which  the  station  took  its 
name.  These  monuments  appeared  in  the  distance  like  a  huge  ruin. 
The  water  and  winds  had  worn  away  the  surrounding  earth  during  the 
ages  past,  until  the  tops  were  fifty  feet  or  more  above  the  surrounding- 
land,  the  walls  being  nearly  perpendicular.  These  sides  and  tops  resem- 
bled hard  baked  clay  and  contained  the  rude  carvings  of  the  red  men. 
Near  the  base  were  strata  of  shells  and  other  organic  remains,  showing 
that  since  the  bed  of  the  ocean  had  receded  from  here,  fifty  feet  of 
earth  had  accumulated,  and  then  the  storms  of  untold  centuries  had 
worn  away  this  same  accumulation,  leaving  them  in  their  present  condi- 
tion. On  all  sides  bluffs  and  a  rolling  prairie  limited  the  range  of 
vision. 

The  next  day  after  our  arrival  was  spent  in  unloading  the  stores 
that  were  to  be  left  here.  During  the  day  our  number  was  augmented 
by  the  arrival,  from  the  east,  of  a  stage  coach,  containing  General  Brew- 
ster, the  general  superintendent  of  the  eastern  division  of  the  Overland 
Dispatch  company's  line,  R.  A.  Davis,  a  special  artist  for  Harper's 
Weekly;  a  correspondent  for  the  New  York  Times;  and  one  or  two 
other  correspondents  of  New  York  papers.  These  correspondents  were 
the  guests  of  General  Brewster  and  had  come  out  here  at  his  invitation 
to  report  on  the  beauties  of  this  new  line  across  the  plains.  They 
passed  the  night  with  us  and  then  proceeded  on  their  way  to  Denver, 
notwithstanding  the  experiences  of  the  last  few  days  with  the  Indians. 
Dr.  Whipple,  who  was  stationed  at  Pond  Creek  but  who  had  come  to 
Monument  to  dress  the  wounds  of  the  man  scalped  by  the  Indians,  had 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED   NINETY 


left  Monument  with  General  Brewster  to  return  to  Pond  Creek.  As 
they  thus  had  a  party  of  six  or  eight  and  were  well  armed,  they  thought 
themselves  equal  to  any  attack  that  would  be  made  upon  them. 

This  party  had  been  gone  but  an  'hour  or  so  when  Indians  were 
again  reported  as  being  seen.  Looking  toward  the  east,  with  the  aid 
of  my  glass,  I  saw,  a  mile  or  more  distant,  a  body  of  Indians  riding 
in  a  circle  while,  from  inside  the  circle,  was  seen  an  occasional  puff  of 
smoke.  This  said  that  white  men  were  there  surrounded  by  Indians, 
and  making  a  fight  for  their  lives.  These  facts  were  reported  to  Capt. 
Strout,  who  hastily  took  a  portion  of  his  company  and  went  on  the 
double  quick  to  the  scene  of  action,  and  he  arrived  none  too  soon. 
The  party  consisted  of  two  men,  employees  of  the  Overland  Co.,  in  a 
buggy.  They  had  been  attacked  an  hour  before  and  had  kept  the  red 
men  at  bay  in  a  running  fight,  but  just  west  of  the  spot  where  Capt. 
Strout  rescued  them,  and  between  them  and  us,  was  a  deep  ravine 
through  which  the  party  must  pass  and  here,  without  doubt,  they 
would  have  fallen  victims  to  the  savages.  Indeed,  when  Capt.  Strout 
arrived  at  the  ravine,  the  Indians  had  already  commenced  to  dispose 
of  themselves  there,  ready  for  the  attack  when  the  party  should  arrive. 

Baffled  in  their  attack  on  this  party,  many  of  the  savages  turned 
their  attention  to  the  herd  of  mules  feeding  near  the  river.  Anticipat- 
ing this  movement  I  had  taken  a  portion  of  my  company  and  gone  on 
the  double  quick  to  the  relief  of  the  'herders.  It  was  a  race  for  the 
mules  if  not  a  race  for  life  between  us  and  the  Indians.  The  Indians 
were  mounted  and  we  were  not,  so  they  had  the  better  of  the  race  and 
reached  the  vicinity  of  the  herd  first.  It  was  then  or  never,  so  I  gave 
the  order  to  fire  and  the  boys  promptly  dropped  on  their  knees,  raised 
the  sights  of  their  muskets  at  one  thousand  yards'  range  and  sent  a 
shower  of  cold  lead  into  the  dusky  savages.  The  result  was  highly 
satisfactory,  and  to  veterans  of  the  hard  fought  battles  of  Virginia  ex- 
tremely ludicrous.  The  savages  instantly  whirled,  threw  themselves 
on  the  sides  of  the  ponies  farthest  from  us  and  were  off  with  even 
greater  speed  than  they  had  come.  When  out  of  range  they  stopped, 
and  the  attention  given  one  or  two  of  their  number  indicated  that  the 
bullets  had  done  some  execution. 

The  mules  were  driven  to  camp  and  secured,  and  this  was  done 
none  too  soon,  for  the  Indians  increased  in  numbers  rapidly.  They 
seemed  to  come  from  every  direction,  and  soon  surrounded  our  encamp- 
ment, but  although  they  outnumbered  us  four  to  one  they  did  not  dare 
make  a  stand-up  fight.  Occasionally  they  would  make  a  dash  as  though 
about  to  sweep  all  before  them,  and  then  as  soon  as  they  came  within 
easy  range  of  our  rifles  would  turn  and  make  a  hasty  retreat.  At  times 
they  appeared  on  every  side  and  then,  without  any  apparent  reason, 
every  Indian  would  disappear  and  none  would  be  seen  for  half  an  hour. 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED   NINETY-ONE 


At  one  time  when  no  Indians  were  in  sight  a  black  bear  was  seen 
slowly  making  his  way  through  the  grass.  Some  of  my  men  were 
anxious  to  go  out  and  slhoot  it,  but  this  I  did  not  allow,  a  ruse 
being  suspected.  I  watched  this  "animal"  with  my  glass  and  finally 
saw  it  rise  and  walk  off  on  two  feet. 

Thus  the  hours  wore  away  till  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon  when, 
failing  to  entice  us  from  camp,  they  sought  to  burn  us  out.  The  tall 
dry  grass  on  the  bottom  spoken  of  before  was  set  on  fire  on  the  west 
which,  fanned  by  a  strong  western  wind,  burned  with  great  fury,  roll- 
ing up  great  volumes  of  black  smoke.  But  fire  must  be  met  with  fire, 
so  a  fire  was  set  by  us  to  meet  theirs,  and  some  of  the  men, 
armed  with  empty  grain  sacks,  prevented  the  flames  from  running  into 
camp,  while  the  rest  stood  ready  to  meet  the  wily  savages  should  they 
come  down  upon  us  under  cover  of  the  smoke.  Our  fire  met  theirs  and 
no  damage  was  done. 

While  this  had  been  taking  place  a  buck  had  been  all  the  time 
seated  on  a  bluff,  perhaps  one  thousand  yards  distant,  evidently  view- 
ing the  scene  with  great  satisfaction.  As  soon  as  the  danger  from  the 
fire  had  subsided  I  thought  I  would  see  if  I  could  reach  this  fellow  with 
a  bullet,  so,  taking  a  Henry  rifle,  I  raised  the  sight  to  the  highest  point, 
drew  a  bead  on  him,  and  sent  him  my  compliments.  If  he  did  not  feel 
that  bullet,  he  must  have  heard  it,  for  he  instantly  disappeared  from  his 
perch  and  made  no  more  observations  from  that  point. 

As  night  settled  over  the  scene,  the  heavens  were  made  lurid  in 
every  direction  by  the  burning  prairie,  and  by  its  light  we  could  see  the 
forms  of  the  red  devils  moving  about.  North  of  us  we  saw  a  large 
number  joining  in  a  war  dance.  The  scene  was  not  one  conducive  to 
sleep  and  there  was  no  occasion  to  caution  those  on  guard  to  be  vigi- 
lant. Indeed,  in  making  the  rounds  that  night,  we  found  many  volun- 
teers on  the  picket  line. 

That  evening  a  council  of  war  was  held  and  the  situation  discussed. 
The  council  consisted  of  the  six  commissioned  officers,  two  from  each 
of  the  three  companies  present,  and  the  three  wagon  masters.  The 
latter  were  invited  to  participate  because  they  held  responsible  positions 
and  had  had  some  experience  on  the  plains.  Two  of  the  men  rescued 
on  the  march  were  also  present  but  not  by  invitation.  We  were  seated 
in  a  Sibley  tent  in  a  circle,  and  each  gave  his  opinion,  in  turn,  as  to 
what  the  exigencies  of  the  situation  required.  The  teamsters  were  in 
favor  of  a  retreat;  most  of  the  officers  were  in  favor  of  holding  the 
ground  where  we  were,  but  opposed  to  weakening  our  forces  by  the 
withdrawal  of  my  company;  while  I,  being  under  direct  orders  to  pro- 
ceed to  Pond  Creek,  thought  the  danger  not  sufficiently  great  to  jus- 
tify me  in  not  making  an  attempt  to  reach  that  point.  All  the  com- 
missioned officers  were  a  unit  in  thinking  that  I  ought  not  to  advance 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-TWO 


w<ith  the  wagon  trains  till  the  condition  of  the  country  west  of  us  was 
ascertained.  I  there  consented  to  make  a  reconnaissance  the  next  day 
with  a  portion  of  my  company,  and,  meanwhile,  to  leave  the  trains 
where  they  were. 

The  two  civilians  referred  to  as  present  were  the  hus'bands  of  the 
two  women  in  the  party  rescued  a  few  days  before.  When  all  had 
spoken  except  them,  I  objected  to  their  being  allowed  to  give  an  opin- 
ion, on  the  ground  that  they  were  not  in  the  service  of  the  government, 
and,  having  their  wives  witlh  them  would  naturally  favor  a  retreat. 
Subsequently  this  opinion  of  mine  was  the  cause  of  much  sport  at  my 
expense,  it  being  alleged  that  I  took  the  position  that  the  opinion  of  a 
married  man  in  times  of  danger  was  not  worth  considering. 

The  next  morning  I  mounted  a  dozen  of  my  men  on  mules  and 
placed  as  many  more  in  a  six-mule  wagon,  and  struck  out  for  a  recon- 
naissance of  the  country.  I  was  in  the  saddle  on  my  own  horse.  But 
few  Indians  were  seen  that  day  and  these  were  evidently,  like  ourselves, 
making  observations.  Those  seen  were  in  small  numbers  on  bluffs 
and  other  high  elevations  which  commanded  a  good  view  of  the 
country.  Larger  parties  were  without  doubt  near  us,  but  the  Indian 
as  a  rule    is  never  seen  when  it  is  for  his  interest  not  to  be. 

In  this  way  we  followed  the  trail  west  without  anything  of  special 
interest  happening  till  about  noon,  when  we  neared  a  stock-tender's 
ranch.  Then  a  man  came  from  a  dugout,  standing  in  a  prominent 
position,  which  constituted  the  ranch,  and  made  himself  seen  by  us. 
Then  another  and  another  came  to  the  surface  until  six  or  eight  stood 
looking  at  us.  They  proved  to  be  General  Brewster  and  party  and  Doc- 
tor Whipple,  who  had  left  us  the  day  before,  and  the  solitary  stock-ten- 
der, who  was  living  at  this  ranch.  Very  naturally  they  were  overjoyed 
at  our  coming,  for  their  stagecoach  was  a  useless  thing  on  the  prairie, 
their  mules  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  and  their  rations  and  am- 
munitions very  limited. 

A  few  days  before,  the  Indians  had  driven  off  the  stock  at  this 
ranch,  but  had  not  molested  the  ranchman,  so  he  had  remained  in  his 
dugout  till  the  unexpected  visit  of  General  Brewster  and  party.  This 
party  was  traveling  in  a  Concord  stage  coach,  made  at  Concord,  N.  H., 
the  same  as  seen  on  the  stage  lines  in  all  parts  of  the  country  west  of 
the  Mississippi  river.  Doctor  Whipple  was  returning  to  Pond  Creek 
riding  his  private  horse. 

After  leaving  Monument  this  party  had  proceeded  on  its  way  with- 
out any  incident  of  note  till  they  were  nearing  this  station.  Then 
they  were  suddenly  surrounded  by  a  large  body  of  Indians,  who,  for- 
tunately, seemed  more  intent  in  securing  stock  than  scalps,  and  the 
stagecoach  party  did  what  many  another  party  has  done  under  similar 
circumstances;   they  lost  their  heads.     One  man  on  the  inside  of  the 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-THREE 


coach  discharged  his  rifle  through  the  top  and  came  near  doing  more 
execution  among  those  on  the  outside  than  all  the  Indians  com- 
bined. As  the  Indians  bore  down  upon  the  party,  swinging  their 
blankets,  and  sounding  the  war  whoop,  the  driver  lost  control  of  the 
mules,  which  ran  wildly  into  danger  instead  of  from  it.  Seeing  this, 
the  driver  and  passengers  instantly  jumped  for  dear  life,  one  man  not 
even  taking  his  arms  with  him,  and  the  Indians  secured  the  mules. 
Doctor  Whipple  was  mounted  on  a  fine  horse,  and  he  very  sensibly 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  life  would  be  safer  if  he  and  his  horse 
should  part  company,  so  he  dismounted  without  ceremony  and  with 
special  haste,  as  several  bucks  had  evidently  taken  a  liking  to  his  horse 
and  were  bearing  down  upon  him. 

Now  the  doctor  was  a  very  peculiar  specimen  of  humanity.  He  was 
short,  bow  legged,  round  shouldered,  cross  eyed,  an  albino,  and  he 
had  St.  Vitus'  dance  in  his  eyes.  He  was  not  an  officer  of  the  army, 
but  what  was  called  a  "contract  surgeon,"  heing  engaged  for  a  special 
duty  because  no  commissioned  surgeon  was  available.  In  spite  of  his 
physical  defects  he  was  a  good  physician  and  surgeon.  When  the 
doctor  landed,  on  this  occasion,  on  terra  firma,  he  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  a  young  buck  18  or  20  years  old.  Both  were  armed  with 
revolvers  and  both  instinctively  commenced  to  fire  at  the  other.  The 
Indian  was  so  terrified  at  the  object  before  him  or,  at  finding  himself 
alone  in  such  close  quarters  with  a  white  man,  that  he  could  not  or  did 
not  shoot  straight,  and  the  doctor  was  so  cross  eyed  that  he  could  not 
see  to  do  good  execution,  even  if  his  nerves  were  calm,  and  so  these 
two  exchanged  shots  and  neither  was  hurt. 

Fortunately  this  party  in  vacating  the  stagecoach  saved  most  of 
their  arms,  ammunition  and  rations.  They  promptly  took  refuge  in  the 
dugout  and  prepared  to  defend  themselves,  but,  fortunately  for  them, 
the  Indians  had  nothing  to  gain  by  a  further  attack  and  did  not  again 
molest  them,  but  during  the  afternoon  the  captor  of  the  doctor's  horse 
rode  once  or  twice  within  hearing  distance  and  shouted,  "Much  good 
horse,  much  good  horse!" 

These  men  regarded  my  party  as  their  deliverers  and  gladly  accep- 
ted my  proposition  to  return  to  Monument  with  us.  We  rested  our 
animals,  partook  of  hardtack  and  coffee,  and  were  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing east,  when  we  observed  horsemen  approaching  from  the  west, 
whom  we  at  first  supposed  were  Indians,  but  who  proved  to  be  Capt. 
McMichael  and  escort  from  Pond  Creek,  who  were  out  with  the  same 
object  in  view  as  myself,  and  we  had  met  after  each  had  traveled 
twenty-five  miles,  or  half  the  distance  between  the  two  posts.  Our 
meeting  was  very  opportune,  as  it  enabled  us  to  cooperate  in  the  move- 
ments of  the  next  few  days  and  enabled  General  Brewster  and  party 
to  travel  a  few  miles  further  west  instead  of  retracing  their  steps  to  the 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-FOUR 


east.  I  returned  to  Monument  with  my  command,  reaching  there  at 
a  late  hour  much  fatigued,  having  traveled  fifty  miles  during  the  day. 
I  at  once  issued  the  necessary  orders  to  my  company  and  to  the  wagon 
train  masters  for  an  early  move  on  the  morrow. 

The  next  morning  before  sunrise,  coffee  was  made  and  buffalo 
steak  cooked  over  a  fire  of  buffalo  chips,  and  these  we  partook  of,  shiv- 
ering in  the  cold,  for  it  was  now  the  latter  part  of  November  and  the 
nights  were  cold.  Just  as  the  sun  rose  in  the  east,  the  trains  pulled 
out.  As  one  train  had  unloaded  at  Monument,  this  train  took  a  part 
of  the  load  of  the  other  train  so  that  the  fifty  wagons  had  the  loads 
of  only  twenty-five.  On  this  account,  and  because  of  threatened 
trouble  from  the  Indians,  we  pushed  ahead  as  rapidly  as  possible,  all 
the  time  using  the  utmost  vigilance  to  guard  against  a  surprise.  Our 
constant  preparation  for  trouble  may  have  been  observed  by  the  In- 
dians and  thus  saved  us  from  an  attack.  After  an  hour's  rest  at  noon 
for  man  and  beast  and  for  feeding  the  mules  with  grain  rather  than 
allowing  them  to  graze,  we  again  pushed  on  and  arrived,  late  at  night, 
at  Pond  Creek. 

During  the  afternoon  of  this  day  the  buffalo  came  down  on  us  in 
great  numbers  at  one  point,  and,  partly  to  turn  them  from  the  train 
and  prevent  a  stampede,  and  partly  to  gratify  the  men,  I  gave  permis- 
sion at  one  time  to  such  as  desired  to  fire,  when  crack  went  a  dozen 
rifles  and  half  a  dozen  buffalo  bit  the  dust.  Such  was  the  condition 
of  the  air  that  this  firing  was  distinctly  heard  by  Capt.  McMichael  at 
Pond  Creek,  twelve  miles  away,  and  he  at  once  prepared  to  go  to  our 
relief,  supposing  we  were  attacked  by  Indians,  but  hearing  no  fur- 
ther firing,  did  not  move. 

In  accordance  with  instructions  received  before  leaving  Leaven- 
worth, after  the  wagon  trains  had  been  unloaded  at  Pond  Creek,  the 
two  empty  trains  were  sent  south  across  the  almost  trackless  prairie 
to  Fort  Lyons  on  the  Arkansas  river,  one  hundred  miles  to  the  south, 
for  further  supplies.  This  trip  was  made  with  an  escort  from  Pond 
Creek  under  the  command  of  Lieut.  Hedge  of  my  company.  Addi- 
tional supplies  were  brought  to  Pond  Creek  from  Fort  Lyons,  and  then 
the  empty  trains  returned  east  to  Fort  Leavenworth. 

The  trains  on  this  trip  passed  over  the  Sand  Creek  battle  ground. 
In  1863  a  band  of  Indians  consisting  of  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes  and 
Sioux  from  this  vicinity  made  a  raid  into  Colorado,  stole  stock  and 
committed  other  depredations.  Col.  John  M.  Chivington  was  at  that 
time  governor  of  the  territory  of  Colorado.  He  raised  a  company  of 
three  hundred  volunteers  and  followed  the  savages  to  Sand  Greek, 
where  ensued,  what  was  called  at  that  time,  one  of  the  bloodiest  scenes 
of  Indian  warfare  in  the  history  of  the  country.  Nearly  all  the  casual- 
ties were  among  the  Indians,  and  a  large  number  of  men,  women  and 

PAGE   ONE   HUNDRED   NINETY-FIVE 


children  were  slain,  and  the  atrocities  committed  were  said  to  have 
equalled  those  of  savages.  A  storm  of  indignation  arose  throughout 
the  country,  and  Col.  Chivington  was  court-martialed.  One  member 
of  the  court  was  Schuyler  Colfax.  The  colonel  was  acquitted  but  re- 
moved by  the  president  from  office.  At  this  time  evidences  of  the 
strife  were  plainly  seen,  and  a  Mexican  bit  found  there  now  graces  my 
collection  of  curios. 

Pond  Creek  station  was  situated  on  Pond  Creek,  a  stream  similar 
to  a  small  trout  brook  in  New  Hampshire.  This  stream  was  but  a  few 
miles  in  length  and  emptied  into  the  Smoky  Hill  river  a  mile  distant. 
Its  importance  consisted  in  the  fact,  that  it  furnished  all  the  water  used 
at  the  station.  There  was  no  timber  within  several  miles  of  this  point 
with  which  to  construct  quarters,  and  the  men  went  promptly  at  work 
to  construct  dugouts.  On  the  top  of  the  bluff  and  near  the  edge,  rooms 
were  excavated,  usually  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  square  and  six  feet 
deep,  and  the  top  covered  with  poles  and  brush,  which  grew  on  the 
banks  of  the  Smoky,  a  few  miles  away,  and  on  this  was  piled  enough 
of  the  earth  excavated  to  make  a  wind-  and  water-tight  roof.  A  nar- 
row passage  was  cut  from  this  room  through  the  front  wall  for  a  door, 
and  on  one  side  or  the  back  end  was  built  a  fireplace  with  a  chimney 
on  top  to  carry  off  the  smoke.  On  one  side  was  left  a  platform,  which 
was  used  as  a  table  or  seat  by  day  and  a  bed  by  night.  The  only  way 
of  admitting  light  was  by  removing  the  gunny  bag  that  usually  an- 
swered for  a  door.  Such  a  room  usually  accommodated  four  persons. 
The  soil  was  dry  and  such  quarters  furnished  more  comfortable  places 
of  abode  than  would  naturally  be  expected.  The  appearance  of  the 
encampment  reminded  one  of  a  lot  of  cave  dwellers.  For  the  use  of 
my  lieutenant  and  myself  I  had  a  wall  tent,  but  as  no  tent  erected  in 
the  usual  way  could  withstand  the  gales  of  the  plains,  I  had  a  space 
excavated  sufficient  to  set  this  tent  into  the  ground  up  to  the  eaves. 
The  roof  was  strongly  guyed,  and  thus  I  had  all  the  light  and  con- 
venience of  the  ordinary  wall  tent.  Shelter  for  the  horses  and  mules 
was  made  at  the  base  of  the  bluff,  where  the  stores  of  the  station  were 
kept. 

When  I  arrived  at  Pond  Creek  station  Capt.  McMichael  and  I 
compared  our  commissions  to  ascertain  who  was  the  oldest  captain. 
I  was  somewhat  relieved  when  the  dates  showed  that  he  was  mustered 
as  captain  a  few  days  before  I  was,  and  that  he  was  the  ranking  captain 
and  therefore  in  command  at  this  post,  and  not  I.  Capt.  McMichael 
was  a  Missourian  and  his  men  were  from  Missouri.  Though  strong 
Union  men  they  had  been  accustomed  to  fighting  of  the  guerrilla 
stamp  rather  than  fighting  disciplined  troops.  They  had  had  but  little 
discipline,  and  while  the  lack  of  discipline  among  the  men  of  Minne- 
sota made   them  more  as   neighbors   and   friends   in    tfhe    service   than 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-SIX 


soldiers,  the  lack  of  army  discipline  among  these  Missourians  and  their 
experience  in  the  service  had  made  them  show  more  of  the  bully  than 
men  softened  and  knit  together  by  common  dangers  and  sufferings. 
The  lieutenant  of  this  company  had  lost  his  voice  owing  to  an  injury 
to  the  vocal  cords  by  a  bullet  that  passed  through  his  neck,  when  he 
was  trying  to  quell  a  disturbance  in  his  company. 

Life  at  Pond  Creek 

Life  at  Pond  Creek  station  was  decidedly  dreary.  By  the  time 
quarters  were  completed  winter  had  set  in.  The  buffalo  had  gone 
south  as  usual  at  this  season  of  the  year  in  search  of  better  grazing 
and  a  warmer  climate;  antelope,  though  sometimes  seen  in  large  num- 
bers, seldom  came  near  camp,  were  always  moving  rapidly1  and  could 
not  well  be  followed;  and  indeed  hunting  for  any  game  could  not  be 
indulged  in  except  by  large  parties.  The  Indians  had  wiped  out  the 
stock  at  all  the  ranches  so  effectively  that  no  attempt  was  made  to 
resume  business  by  running  coaches  and  no  mails  arrived.  Over  two 
hundred  miles  stretched  between  us  and  the  nearest  settlement  on  the 
east,  and  week  after  week  passed  and  not  even  a  courier  reached  us 
bearing  dispatches  from  military  headquarters  at  Fort  Leavenworth. 
Supply  trains,  long  overdue,  failed  to  arrive  and  provisions  were  get- 
ting low.  To  make  matters  worse,  a  large  part  of  the  supplies  we  had 
were  found  to  be  unfit  for  food.  The  pork  and  bacon  were  putrid  and 
the  hardtack  mildewed.  The  situation  was  getting  serious  and  star- 
vation or  evacuation  in  the  dead  of  winter  seemed  inevitable.  Every 
day  anxious  eyes  gazed  towards  the  south  in  search  of  buffalo, 
or  to  the  east,  hoping  to  see  the  long  expected  relief  train. 

At  length,  one  Sunday  morning,  buffalo  were  seen  some  six  or 
eight  miles  away.  Capt.  McMichael  and  myself,  with  six  or  eight  men, 
were  soon  in  the  saddle  and,  with  two  six-mule  wagons  to  bring  in  the 
game,  were  soon  off.  The  herd  proved  to  be  many  thousand  in 
extent  and  was  already  on  the  run  when  we  reached  it,  so  that  quick 
work  was  needed.  Each,  drawing  his  forty-four-calibre  revolver,  rode 
fearlessly  alongside  the  passing  herd  and,  selecting  a  passing  cow  or 
calf,  fired,  while  on  the  run,  at  a  vital  spot  of  the  animal.  The  buffalo, 
while  on  the  run,  is  a  most  ferocious  looking  animal,  and  the  bulls 
sometimes  turn  on  a  man  with  fatal  results.  For  this  reason  our  in- 
tentions were  to  keep  on  the  outskirts  of  the  herd,  but  in  the  excitement 
of  the  run,  both  on  the  part  of  the  men,  and  of  the  animals  in  their 
efforts  to  escape,  we  were  sometimes  entirely  surrounded  by  the  buffalo. 

But  the  run  was  over  in  a  few  minutes  and  the  herd  rapidly  dis- 
appeared in  the  distance,  leaving  eight  cows  and  calves  behind  as  the 
fruit  of  the  run.  Capt.  McMichael  was  also  on  the  ground  writhing 
with  pain.     When  on  the  run  his  horse  had  stepped  into  a  gopher  hole 


PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-SEVEN 


and  almost  turned  a  somersault,  throwing  his  rider  over  his  head. 
Capt.  McMichael  struck  the  ground  many  feet  ahead  of  the  horse  and 
was  so  badly  injured  he  could  not  rise.  He  was  assisted  into  the 
saddle,  the  game  was  loaded  into  the  wagons,  and  we  returned  to 
camp  highly  elated  over  the  success  of  the  day,  so  far  as  securing  food 
was  concerned. 

One  hundred  and  twenty  men,  the  number  at  Pond  Creek,  made 
short  work  of  the  meat  supply  captured  that  Sunday  morning,  and 
again  the  garrison  looked  hunger  in  the  face.  To  make  matters  worse, 
forage  for  the  horses  and  mules  was  entirely  exhausted,  and  all  the 
animals  had  to  subsist  on  was  the  grazing  to  be  had  through  from 
three  to  six  inches  of  snow.  Under  such  conditions  they  grew  weak 
and  unserviceable,  and  reminded  us  that  ere  long  they  would  be  in  no 
condition  for  service  on  the  road  should  we  be  compelled  to  evacuate 
the  station.  Finally  an  exact  inventory  of  all  the  provisions  on  hand 
was  taken,  and  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  could  not  subsist  on 
the  supplies  then  on  hand  more  than  fifteen  days  longer. 

Soon  after  this  Capt.  McMichael  decided  to  withdraw  his  company 
of  cavalry  and  make  his  way  east,  leaving  my  company  to  hold  the 
station  till  relief  could  be  forwarded,  and  he  issued  an  order  accord- 
ingly. I  regarded  this  as  cowardice  on  his  part  and  involving  a  posi- 
tive peril  to  my  command.  I  would  be  left  with  only  a  few  days'  pro- 
visions, 450  miles  from  the  base  of  supplies,  and  with  only  my  own 
horse  and  wagon  mules  for  courier  service  or  to  hunt  buffalo  should 
any  appear,  and  he  could  not  reach  Leavenworth  and  send  back  supplies 
in  season  to  save  us  from  starvation.  I  therefore  sent  him  a  written 
protest  against  his  proposed  course  of  action.  Immediately  on  reading 
my1  communication,  he  strode  into  my  tent,  evidently  excited,  and  pre- 
pared to  finish  me  then  and  there.  I  received  him  courteously,  gave 
him  a  seat  and  opened  conversation  on  matters  entirely  foreign  to  the 
subject  of  my  protest,  and,  as  we  chatted,  it  was  almost  amusing  to 
note  the  change  in  his  demeanor  and  his  evident  embarrassment. 

Preparations  for  the  withdrawal  of  his  company  went  on,  however, 
and  on  the  eighth  of  January  he  started,  with  eight  of  his  men  as 
escort,  for  Monument,  leaving  orders  for  the  rest  of  his  company  to 
follow  the  next  day.  One  of  his  escort  was  a  free  mason  and  to  his 
hands  I  entrusted  a  full  report  of  the  situation,  and  he  was  to  forward 
it  at  the  earliest  opportunity  to  headquarters  at  Leavenworth.  As  soon 
as  the  captain  left,  I  assumed  command  and  forbade  any  one  leaving 
the  post  except  by  orders  issued  by  me.  But  Capt.  McMichael  was 
evidently  ill  at  ease.  After  he  had  been  gone  a  few  hours,  he  returned 
to  the  post,  resumed  command  and  issued  orders  for  the  evacuation  of 
the  station.  I  was  not  even  consulted  as  to  the  wisdom  of  this  move 
and  therefore  had  no  responsibility'  in  the  matter. 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-EIGHT 


In  preparation  for  the  contemplated  evacuation,  the  medical  stores 
and  a  part  of  the  camp  and  garrison  equipage  were  buried.  (The  med- 
ical stores  contained  a  few  gallons  of  alcohol.  The  night  before  we 
started  this  was  dug  up  by  some  of  the  Missourians  and  stolen,  and  the 
first  night  on  the  march  a  great  fight  occurred  among  men  under  the 
influence  of  the  alcohol  they  had  drunk,  and  their  officers  were  power- 
less to  preserve  order).  All  extra  blankets  were  issued  to  the  men  in 
anticipation  of  needs  on  the  march. 

The  outlook  was  anything  but  cheering.  It  was  the  dead  of  win- 
ter. Snow  lay  on  the  ground  to  the  depth  of  six  inches  on  the  average. 
The  ravines  were  filled  with  deep  snows  packed  in  by  the  hard  winds 
of  the  prairie.  One  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  trackless  prairie  lay 
between  us  and  Fort  Fletcher.  The  animals  had  had  no  grain  for  six 
weeks  and  nothing  to  eat  but  the  little  grazing  that  could  be  had 
through  the  snow,  and  they  were  therefore  reduced  in  strength  and  ill 
prepared  for  the  long  and  hard  march  before  them. 

It  was  therefore  with  many  misgivings  that  we  loaded  what  was 
left  of  our  supplies  on  the  wagons,  made  the  sick  as  comfortable  as 
possible  on  the  same  wagons,  and  bade  adieu  to  what  we  then  called 
our  comfortable  quarters  at  Pond  Creek. 

Moving  East 

On  the  morning  of  Jan.  15,  1866,  we  started.  First  went  Capt. 
McMichael's  company  of  the  13th  Regt.  of  Missouri  cavalry,  about  sev- 
enty men,  then  the  two  six-mule  wagons  of  his  company  and  my  own, 
followed  by  my  company  of  fifty  men  on  foot.  The  march  was  a 
tedious  one.  In  the  ravines  the  snow  was  deep  and  shovels  were 
brought  into  frequent  use  to  make  a  path  so  that  the  mules  could  draw 
the  wagons  along. 

We  made  about  twelve  miles  that  first  day  and  halted  towards 
night  on  the  bank  of  the  Smoky,  where  there  was  sufficient  wood  ob- 
tained for  cooking  purposes  but  not  half  enough  for  the  numerous 
campfires  needed  by  the  men.  Buffalo  chips  could  not  be  had  because 
covered  up  by  the  snow  or  too  wet  to  burn.  The  mules  and  horses 
were  given  an  hour  or  two  to  graze  as  best  they  could  on  the  knolls 
where  the  snow  was  the  lightest. 

For  a  night's  rest  there  was  no  other  alternative  but  to  bivouac 
on  the  snowy  ground,  and  all  accepted  the  situation  with  true  soldierly 
resignation.  Those  who  had  them  spread  rubber  blankets  upon  the 
snow  with  woolen  blankets  on  those,  on  which  they  lay  down  and  cov- 
ered themselves  with  other  blankets.  No  faces  were  left  exposed  and 
the  more  the  snow  drifted  over  those  beds  the  warmer  were  the  occu- 
pants. Each  morning  long  rows  of  snowy  mounds  looked  like  a  grave- 
yard in  winter,  but  there  was  life  there,  and  without  the  roll  of  drum 

PAGE    ONE    HUNDRED    NINETY-NINE 


or  the  bugle  note  the  snow  would  heave  and  from  the  mounds  men 
would  issue,  shake  the  snows  from  their  bodies  and  their  beds  and  pre- 
pare for  another  day's  tramp. 

As  we  advanced  difficulties  increased.  The  mules  soon  began  to 
give  out,  sinking  exhausted  in  their  tracks.  In  such  cases  a  cavalryman 
would  be  dismounted,  his  horse  harnessed  in  the  place  of  the  mule,  the 
exhausted  mule  rolled  to  one  side  of  the  road,  and  the  column  would 
move  on,  leaving  the  unfortunate  animal  as  food  for  the  wolves  that 
followed  us.  On  the  average,  a  cavalry  horse  lasted  but  one  day  in  the 
harness  and  such  halts  became  more  and  more  frequent.  From  the 
start  large  gray  wolves  and  the  small  coyotes  followed  our  column  in 
constantly  increasing  numbers  as  we  moved  along,  and  frequently,  be- 
fore we  were  out  of  sight,  the  wolves  commenced  their  meal  on  the 
animals  left  behind. 

Most  of  the  time  the  weather  was  intensely  cold — how  cold  we 
could  not  determine,  as  there  was  no  thermometer  in  the  party,  but 
one  night  a  mule  was  frozen  to  death  while  tied  to  the  tongue  of  a 
wagon,  and  water  left  in  an  iron  kettle  was  frozen  to  a  solid  mass  and 
the  kettle  broken.  We  estimated  the  thermometer  at  several  degrees 
below  zero.  On  two  days  we  were  favored  with  a  western  blizzard. 
The  air  was  full  of  falling  snow,  driven  by  a  pitiless  and  unceasing  gale, 
but,  fortunately,  we  were,  at  both  these  times,  where  we  had  a  small 
quantity  of  fuel  and  therefore  did  not  attempt  to  move.  Yet  it  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  campfires  of  green  wood  could  be  kept 
burning  in  such  a  gale,  and  the  men  suffered  intensely,  hovering  all  day 
long  over  the  fires  as  best  they  could  and,  at  night,  lying  down  in  the 
snow  to  shiver  all  night  with  the  cold.  At  several  points  no  fuel  could 
be  found  even  for  a  campfire,  but,  anticipating  such  conditions,  we 
managed  to  take  along  on  the  teams  from  places  where  we  found  wood 
a  sufficient  amount  to  make  fire  for  coffee  at  night. 

Thus  the  days  and  nights  wore  away,  and  on  the  sixteenth  day  from 
Pond  Creek,  after  nearly  the  last  morsel  of  food  had  disappeared,  we 
arrived  at  Fort  Fletcher.  When  we  arrived  at  Monument  on  this 
march,  we  were  joined  by  Capt.  Strout  and  the  garrison  there,  as  they 
too  were  out  of  supplies.  At  Fort  Fletcher  we  found  that  the  garrison 
had  been  living  for  a  week  on  parched  corn,  but  a  train  of  supplies  des- 
tined for  Pond  Creek  arrived  the  next  day.  This  train  Col.  Tamblyn 
unloaded  at  Fort  Fletcher,  affording  a  supply  for  a  short  time  for  the 
garrison  and  its  additions. 

On  the  march  from  Pond  Creek  we  had  abandoned  sixty  of  the 
ninety-nine  horses  and  mules  with  which  we  started,  and  only  one 
animal  thus  left  on  the  plans,  as  far  as  known,  had  life  enough  left  to 
prevent  the  wolves  from  devouring  him.  The  apparent  casualties 
among  the  men  were  confined  to  frozen  ears  and  noses  and  rheumatic 

PAGE   TWO   HUNDRED 


pains,  but  without  doubt  the  foundations  were  laid  on  that  march  for 
many  an  hour  of  suffering  in  after  life. 

The  weather  had  been  so  intensely  cold  while  on  this  march  we 
concluded  that  the  Indians  would  not  venture  out  in  their  scanty  cloth- 
ing to  molest  us,  even  if  they  knew  we  were  on  the  move.  In  this  we 
were  mistaken,  and,  as  we  neared  Fort  Fletcher,  we  saw  unmistakable 
evidences  that  they  were  on  the  war  path,  while  at  this  fort  were  the 
remains  of  two  dead  men,  and  four  were  in  the  hospital  suffering  in- 
tensely from  wounds  received  at  their  hands. 

It  seemed  that  these  six  men,  employees  of  the  Overland  Dispatch 
company,  were  traveling  from  the  settlements  to  the  fort.  The  weather 
was  so  cold  that  they,  like  us,  thought  no  Indian  would  venture  out  of 
his  tepee.  Their  arms  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  sled  where  they  were 
riding,  their  ammunition  was  in  their  traveling  bags,  while  their  bodies 
and  arms  were  heavily  wrapped  as  protection  from  the  cold.  In  this 
condition  they  moved  along  all  unconscious  of  danger,  when,  suddenly, 
in  passing  through  a  ravine  where  the  snow  was  deep,  a  body  of  Indians, 
who  had  concealed  themselves  in  the  snow,  arose  and  fired,  and  then,  as 
suddenly,  disappeared  before  a  shot  could  be  given  in  return.  By  this 
fire  two  of  the  men  were  killed,  the  other  four  were  all  wounded,  and 
the  horses  or  mules  were  disabled.  One  man,  able  with  great  difficulty 
to  walk,  traveled  to  the  fort  twelve  miles  distant,  whence  help  was 
promptly  sent  to  his  companions.  Besides  suffering  from  almost  fatal 
wounds,  these  men  were  badly  frozen,  and  lay  a  long  time  in  the  hos- 
pital at  the  fort  before  they  could  be  removed  east. 

An  amusing  incident  in  connection  with  this  event  occurred  the 
following  Sunday  morning  At  that  time  Col.  Tamblyn  sent  his  or- 
derly, an  Irishman,  to  the  company  commanders  to  notify  them  of  the 
burial  of  the  two  men  spoken  of  above.  He  found  most  of  the  officers 
together  and  delivered  his  message  as  follows,  "Col.  Tamblyn  sends 
his  compliments  and  directs  you  to  notify  'those  two  men,  killed  by  the 
Indians,  that  they  will  be  buried  this  morning  at  10  o'clock,  and  he 
would  like  as  many  as  can  to  attend  the  services."  This  naturally 
raised  a  laugh  among  the  officers,  when  Pat,  seeing  something  was 
wrong,  added,  "Well!  there  may  be  a  joke  about  it,  but  if  there  is  it's 
on  tfhe  colonel,  for  he  told  me  so." 

One  of  the  men  killed  was  said  to  be  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Ballard,  a  son  of  a  wealthy  manufacturer  of  the  modern  rifle  bear- 
ing his  name.  The  father,  later,  sent  some  of  his  arms  to  the  officers 
who  had  cared  for  the  remains  of  his  son. 

An  allusion  was  made  above  to  one  horse  abandoned  on  the  march 
from  Pond  creek  that  survived  the  attacks  of  the  wolves.  This  animal 
was  found  on  the  prairie  a  couple  of  months  later  by  Lieut.  Geo.  E. 
Handy  of  Co.    G.     Instead   of   turning   it   in    to    the   quartermaster    as 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    ONE 


government  property,  he  couid  not  resist  the  temptation  to  keep  it  for 
his  private  use  for  hunting  buffalo.  He,  therefore,  hired  a  soldier  to 
care  for  it,  and  to  feed  it  on  government  rations.  Under  such  treat- 
ment it  grew  sleek  and  in  prime  condition  and  Lieut.  Handy  was  prom- 
ising himself  a  rare  treat  on  the  chase,  when,  one  day  when  the  buffalo 
appeared,  this  man  asked  for  the  chance  of  first  riding  this  horse  that 
day  in  a  buffalo  hunt.  Lieut.  Handy  reluctantly  said,  "Yes,"  and  off 
his  hostler  started  with  others  for  the  buffalo  feeding  a  few  miles  from 
camp.  A  few  hours  later  this  man  returned  to  camp  with  the  saddle 
on  his  shoulders.  It  seemed  that  when  joining  in  the  chase  he  got 
excited,  and  the  first  time  he  fired,  instead  of  hitting  the  buffalo,  he 
shot  the  horse  in  the  head  and  killed  it. 

The  first  requisite  at  Fort  Fletcher  was  winter  quarters.  These, 
the  men  set  about  building  at  once  without  waiting  to  recover  from  the 
fatigue  of  the  late  march.  Fortunately  there  was  a  fringe  of  timber 
along  the  creek,  and  the  art  of  building  log  cabins  was  well  known  to 
the  men,  so  it  was  but  a  few  days  before  the  men  were  housed  in  com- 
fortable cabins  about  eight  by  ten  feet,  four  men  to  each.  Lieut. 
Hedge  and  I  quartered  in  a  wall  tent  till  the  quarters  for  the  men  were 
completed  and  then  they  constructed  a  log  cabin  for  our  use.  This  was 
about  twelve  by  sixteen  feet,  made  entirely  of  logs  including  the  roof. 
The  cracks  were  filled  with  mud  and  the  nearly  flat  roof  covered  with 
earth.  In  the  front  and  on  each  side  of  the  door  we  had  two  windows 
drawn  from  the  supply  in  the  quartermaster's  department.  In  the  rear 
end  was  a  fireplace  built  in  Virginia  style  with  a  chimney  of  wood  on 
the  outside.  Our  bunks  were  at  the  right  and  left  of  the  fireplace  and 
served  for  seats  by  day  and  beds  by  night.  My  company  desk  was 
in  one  corner  mounted  on  a  dry  goods  box.  My  camp  chair,  which  I 
still  have,  was  a  luxury  and  the  only  one  in  camp,  a  barrel  chair  being 
the  best  substitute  in  the  fort.  It  was  in  these  quarters  while  I  was 
seated  at  my  desk  wearing  a  sash  over  my  shoulder,  as  the  badge  of 
the  officer  of  the  day,  that  my  lieutenant  drew  a  sketch  of  the  scene, 
and  this,  framed,  I  still  have. 

But  our  occupation  of  these  quarters  was  short.  The  latter  part  of 
February  a  stage  reached  Fletcher  and  that  brought  orders  for  Capt. 
Strout  and  me  to  proceed  to  Monument  with  our  companies  and  re- 
establish the  post  there.  About  the  same  time  there  arrived  at  Fort 
Fletcher,  Capt.  Ball,  with  a  company  of  the  3d  U.  S.  Cavalry,  under 
orders  to  proceed  to  Pond  Creek  and  reestablish  the  post  there. 

West  Again 

Accordingly,  March  1st,  we  once  more  bade  adieu  to  Fort  Fletcher 
and  its  garrison,  and,  in  company  with  Co.  A  of  the  1st  U.  S.  Vol. 
and  Capt.  Ball's  company,  we  again  took  up  the  line  of  march  towards 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWO 


the  west.  We  made  but  eight  miles  that  day  and  encamped  for  the 
night  on  Big  Creek.  The  next  day  we  reached  a  station  called  Ruth- 
ton,  and  on  the  night  of  the  3d  pitched  our  tents  at  Downer's  Springs. 
This  day  was  made  memorable  by  a  buffalo  hunt  with  some  of  the 
regular  army  officers.  The  buffalo  were  much  scattered,  with  but  few  in 
a  place.  Some  of  the  enlisted  men  also  hunted  on  their  own  account,  and 
as  there  was  no  prearrangement  these  parties  got  into  dangerous  prox- 
imity to  each  other,  and  the  balls  from  the  Springfield  rifles  in  the 
hands  of  the  men  whistled  so  about  our  ears  that  we  abandoned  the 
hunt  and  joined  the  column  on  the  march. 

The  next  day  we  passed  Castle  Rock,  which  stands  by  itself  like  a 
huge  castle  looming  up  above  the  surface  of  the  plain,  and  took  pleas- 
ure in  exploring  its  intricacies,  as  we  did  those  of  Chalk  Bluff,  which 
abounded  with  fine  specimens  of  iron  pyrites. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  sixth  day  we  reached  Monument,  and  Capt. 
Strout  took  possession  of  his  old  quarters,  while  I  took  the  under- 
ground quarters  vacated  by  Capt.  Schnell  the  middle  of  the  January 
before. 

With  the  return  of  spring  the  Indians  seemed  to  have  abandoned 
their  attempt  to  drive  the  whites  from  their  old  hunting  grounds,  and 
we  saw  but  little  of  them.  The  fear  of  attacks  from  Indians  largely  sub- 
sided, and  with  the  return  of  the  buffalo,  hunting  was  resumed,  and 
even  small  parties  went  long  distances  from  camp  while  on  the  hunt  and 
for  pleasure.  Men  become  accustomed  to  danger  of  any  kind,  and  that 
there  were  not  many  casualties  during  the  latter  months  of  our  stay  there 
was  due  more  to  our  good  fortune  than  our  good  judgment,  for  the 
Indians  had  not  become  reconciled  or  peaceable  by  any'  means.  Lieut. 
E.  Williams  of  Co.  A  was  later  given  a  commission  in  the  regular  army 
and  served  in  this  same  locality  and  lost  a  leg  in  a  fight  with  these 
same  Indians  in  this  vicinity. 

While  at  Monument  two  large  government  trains  arrived  with  sup- 
plies for  that  station.  Not  long  after  their  arrival  some  of  the  enlisted 
men  became  intoxicated,  and  it  became  evident  that  the  whisky  they 
had  drunk  was  supplied  by  some  one  connected  with  the  trains,  so, 
taking  a  squad  with  me,  I  started  on  a  search  for  the  contraband  article, 
and  I  was  not  long  in  locating  it.  A  barrel  of  the  stuff  was  found  on 
tap,  and  the  owner  was  evidently  expecting  to  realize  a  fine  profit,  but 
I  am  afraid  the  leakage  spoiled  all  that,  for  I  picked  up  an  axe  near 
by  and,  with  one  blow,  I  knocked  in  the  head  of  the  barrel  and  the 
contents  was  spilled  upon  the  ground.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  me 
or  by  the  men  in  charge  during  the  whole  transaction  which,  however, 
did  not  consume  more  than  two  or  three  minutes,  and  I  at  once  pro- 
ceeded back  to  my  quarters. 


PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    THREE 


On  the  twenty-ninth  of  March  I  was  relieved  at  Monument  by 
Capt.  Morris  of  the  2d  or  3d  U.  S.  Cavalry  and  ordered  to  report  to 
Capt.  Ball  at  Pond  Creek.  On  the  morning  of  March  31st  I  started 
and  arrived  at  Pond  Creek  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day. 

On  the  third  of  April  the  paymaster,  Major  Stafford,  and  clerk, 
which  in  this  case  was  his  wife,  and  escort  reached  camp.  There  came 
with  them  also  Capt.  Norris  and  Lieut.  Allen  of  the  regular  army,  Col. 
Tamblyn,  Dr.  Bradley  and  Robert  Miller,  the  sutler  at  Fort  Fletcher. 
Major  Stafford  established  himself  in  one  of  the  tents  and  commenced 
to  pay  the  officers  and  men  for  three  months'  time.  The  officers  accom- 
modated themselves  in  another  tent,  where  gambling  commenced  with 
large  stakes  and  continued  till  late  at  night. 

A  great  buffalo  hunt  was  planned  for  the  morrow.  Indeed  this 
was  the  chief  reason  for  the  presence  of  the  officers  from  Fort  Fletcher 
and  Monument,  but  when  the  morrow  came  so  many  of  the  paymaster's 
escort  were  intoxicated  that  the  older  men  among  the  officers  did  not 
consider  it  safe  for  the  paymaster  or  his  wife  to  travel  under  their  pro- 
tection. The  younger  officers  contended  that  they  were  not  responsible 
but  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  escort,  and  that  the  hunt  should  not  be 
abandoned. 

This  reasoning  had  no  effect  upon  the  older  officers.  The  hunt 
must  be  abandoned  and  it  was,  and  all  the  officers  returned  to  their 
respective  commands  with  the  escort. 

We  sympathized  with  the  disappointment  of  our  guests  and  re- 
gretted that  we  were  not  to  join  in  a  hunt  of  larger  proportions  than 
usual  with  our  distinguished  guests,  but  we  did  not  lack  for  sport  in 
tihat  direction,  for  hardly  a  day  passed  that  a  party  was  not  made  up  to 
hunt  these  creatures,  so  I  could  enjoy  the  hunt  whenever  fancy  dic- 
tated. These  animals  were  now  moving  north  and  it  seemed  there 
were  no  limits  to  their  numbers.  The  common  way  of  hunting  was  to 
ride  along  side  of  them  and  shoot  them  downward  through  the  back  of 
the  shoulder.  The  element  of  danger  made  the  sport  more  fascinating. 
A  wounded  buffalo  was  quite  likely  to  turn  on  one,  so  if  a  shot  did  not 
prove  fatal  the  hunter  must  be  prepared  for  what  would  follow.  Some- 
times, too,  a  bull,  the  guardian  of  the  herd,  whether  wounded  or  not, 
would  turn  on  a  hunter  who  pressed  too  close,  and  in  such  cases  the 
situation  was  dangerous.  Such  a  bull  once  turned  on  Lieut.  J.  P. 
Eaton  of  Co.  G,  and  struck  his  horse  a  fearful  blow  on  the  hind  quar- 
ters, driving  his  horn  deep  into  the  flesh  and  lifting  the  hind  part  of 
the  horse  from  the  ground.  The  next  instant  the  horse  was  flying  like 
mad  toward  camp  bearing  his  rider  from  further  danger. 


PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    FOUR 


More  Buffalo  Hunting 

I  had  an  experience  different  from  this  one  day  but  attended  by  a 
narrow  escape.  I  was  hunting  in  company  with  Lieut.  Horrigan,  and 
came  across  a  lone  bull.  The  herd  was  a  long  way  off,  so  we  con- 
cluded to  attack  this  one,  though  a  bull  is  always  a  dangerous  fellow  to 
meet.  Riding  along  side,  but  at  sufficient  distance  to  be  safe  in  case 
he  turned  on  us,  we  each  gave  him  a  shot.  He  at  once  slackened  his 
pace  to  a  walk  and  we  turned  his  steps  toward  camp.  For  two  or 
three  miles  we  rode  behind  this  animal,  he  all  the  time  traveling  ap- 
parently, as  tamely  and  as  indifferently  as  an  ox.  We  congratulated 
ourselves  we  were  going  to  drive  this  fellow  to  camp  and  there  dis- 
patch him  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned,  but  suddenly  he  stopped, 
turned  about,  and  shook  his  head.  In  vain  we  tried  to  turn  him  and 
again  start  him  for  camp.  Failing  in  this  we  concluded  to  dispatch 
him  where  he  was,  and  with  this  in  view  we  emptied  our  revolvers  into 
his  side,  but  seemingly  with  no  more  effect  than  the  discharge  of  an 
air  gun.  He  neither  moved  or  noticed  the  shots  at  all.  Here  he  stood, 
perhaps  half  an  hour.  My  horse  was  facing  the  old  fellow  not  more 
than  fifty  feet  from  him.  I  had  laid  the  reins  over  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle  and  had  both  hands  engaged  in  reloading  my  revolver,  when, 
suddely,  he  made  a  lunge  for  me.  My  horse  naturally  reared  and 
swung  his  body  from  the  infuriated  animal,  while  I,  with  neither  hand 
on  the  reins,  slipped  in  the  saddle  till  my  right  hand  touched  the 
ground,  and  my  body,  instead  of  the  horse,  was  in  position  to  receive 
the  full  force  of  a  blow  from  the  animal's  horns.  Fortunately  Lieut. 
Horrigan  was  in  fighting  condition  and  he  instantly  gave  the  animal 
a  shot  in  the  head,  and  this  shot,  or  failing  strength  stopped  him  when 
he  was  not  more  than  ten  feet  from  me.  This  supreme  effort  over, 
he  gave  up  the  ghost  and  died. 

At  another  time  we  had  better  success  in  driving  a  buffalo  yearling 
into  camp,  after  giving  him  a  shot.  This  fellow  consented  to  be 
driven  as  quietly  as  the  old  bull,  spoken  of  above,  till  we  came  near 
the  camp.  Then,  apparently  not  liking  the  prospect  ahead,  he  attemp- 
ted to  return  to  the  prairie.  This  happened  just  as  the  men  of  the 
cavalry  were  riding  their  horses,  bareback,  to  water.  Seeing  fun  ahead, 
nearly  every  man  broke  from  the  line  and  came  to  our  assistance,  and 
such  a  wild  scrimmage  race  as  then  occurred  is  rarely  seen.  Back  and 
forth  the  party  went,  now  headed  for  the  prairie  and  now  rushing  like 
mad  through  the  camp,  endangering  the  lives  of  all  spectators,  and 
even  the  "standing"  of  the  camp  itself.  Finally  the  animal  attempted 
to  ford  the  creek,  when  its  cool  waters  chilled  his  overheated  system 
and  he  sank  exhausted  not  to  rise  again.  A  postmortem  examination 
showed  that  the  bullet  this  animal  had  first  received  appeared  sufficient 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED   FIVE 


to  end  his  career  then  and  there,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  strength  left 
to  continue  so  long  a  race  for  life  only  indicated  the  vast  endurance 
these  buffalo  of  the  plains  possessed. 

The  favorite  method  of  hunting  the  buffalo  was  riding  along  side 
of  them  as  described  above,  but  the  still  hunt  was  sometimes  resorted 
to.  By  way  of  a  change  I  joined  a  small  party  one  day  for  a  still  hunt 
on  a  herd  quietly  feeding  a  mile  or  more  from  camp.  Taking  advan- 
tage of  the  rolling  prairie  we  came  near  the  herd  without  being  seen 
and  found  the  ground  most  favorably  located  for  a  near  approach  to 
our  game.  They  were  quietly  feeding  near  a  deep  gully,  and  in 
this  we  made  our  way  till  along  side  of  the  herd  and  less  than  fifty 
feet  from  them.  Peering  over  the  top  we  watched  these  huge  animals 
for  some  minutes  and  observed  every  motion  when  we  could  almost  lay 
our  hands  upon  their  shoulders,  and  it  seemed  almost  a  pity  to  disturb 
them  or  make  war  upon  them.  But  such  sentiments  are  not  culti- 
vated among  hunters  or  those  in  search  of  food,  and  placing  our  mus- 
kets on  the  ground  on  top  of  the  sharp  edge  of  the  gully  we  selected 
our  victims  and  fired.  We  heard  the  balls  strike  the  sides  of  the  ani- 
mals like  balls  striking  the  side  of  a  barn,  the  sharp  reports  of  the  rifles 
rang  out  on  the  prairie,  the  animals  suddenly  ceased  grazing,  and  turn- 
ing their  heads  toward  us,  their  great  eyes  and  ours  met  and  we  looked 
each  other  steadily  in  the  face.  Each  moment  seemed  an  age  as  we 
gazed  at  each  other.  They  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  to  fly  or  charge 
us,  and  we  were  in  doubt  as  to  which  they  would  do,  and  our  fate  seemed 
for  a  moment,  and  a  long  one  it  was,  to  hang  in  the  balance.  Finally, 
instinct  prevailed  and  instantaneously  the  whole  herd  was  straining 
every  nerve  to  place  themselves  beyond  further  danger.  They  had 
moved  but  a  short  distance,  however,  when  two  or  three  began  to  fal- 
ter, soon  stopped,  lay  down  and  ceased  to  breathe. 

In  these  days  the  buffalo  inhabited  the  plains  in  their  largest  num- 
bers. We  have  seen  the  prairie  black  with  these  noble  animals  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  all  on  the  run,  and  thus  continuing  during  all 
the  hours  of  a  day,  or  even  two  or  three  days.  Millions  must  have 
passed  in  that  time.  The  Indians  only  hunted  these  animals  for  food, 
and  the  few  white  men  who  had  penetrated  this  country  and  hunted 
them  for  pleasure  as  well  as  for  food  had  made  no  noticeable  effect  on 
their  number. 

Horace  Greely  once  said  that  he  saw  five  million  buffalo  in  one 
herd  and  declined  to  take  off  one  from  the  estimate.  However  that 
may  be,  we  know  we  have  seen  just  as  many  as  Greely  ever  saw  be- 
cause no  one  could  see  more — great  herds  extending  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  many  days  in  passing,  and  all  going  in  one  direction  so 
that  no  animal  was  seen  twice,  now  moving  slowly  and  feeding  as  they 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    SIX 


moved  and  now  moving  as  fast  as  strength  would  allow,  sending  up 
great  clouds  of  dust  as  they  moved. 

But  soon  after  we  left  the  plains  the  railroad  penetrated  this  coun- 
try and  hunters  swarmed  over  the  prairie,  intent  on  securing  buffalo 
hides  which  were  shipped  to  market  at  a  large  profit.  So  great  was 
the  army  of  men  engaged  in  the  slaughter  for  gain  that  a  very  few 
years  sufficed  to  wipe  them  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  only  rem- 
nants of  the  bison  that  now  exist  are  found  in  private  game  preserves 
or  those  carefully  guarded  on  the  government  reservations  of  the  far 
West.  Fortunately,  the  care  given  these  animals  in  such  places  gives 
promise  that  they  will  be  preserved  as  objects  of  curiosity,  at  least,  for 
many  years  to  come. 

Prairie  Dogs 

Villages  of  prairie  dogs  were  very  common  on  the  plains.  These 
were  always  on  dry  knolls  a  long  way  from  water,  and  if  these  animals 
ever  had  a  drop  of  water,  they  must  have  obtained  it  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  for  they  never  wandered  far  enough  from  their  homes,  on 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  to  obtain  it.  These  animals  were  about  the 
length  of  a  gray  squirrel  with  a  body  a  little  more  stocky1.  Indeed, 
they  were  sometimes  called  ground  squirrels.  Sometimes  a  large  num- 
ber of  these  animals  could  be  seen  at  the  mouths  of  their  holes,  barking 
furiously  at  any  object  seen  in  the  distance,  but  at  the  approach  of  a 
man  they  would  all  disappear.  They  were  sometimes,  though  rarely, 
shot  and  sometimes  eaten,  but  they  looked  so  much  like  dogs  that  their 
meat  was  repulsive  even  if  it  were  good.  It  was  the  meat  of  these 
animals  that  the  men  of  Col.  John  C.  Fremont's  command  ate  when 
crossing  the  plains  on  one  of  his  expeditions  to  California,  and  the  fact 
that  they  were  reduced  to  dog  meat  made  them  heroes  in  the  Fremont 
political  campaign  of  1856. 

The  optical  illusion  of  the  mirage  was  seen  frequently'.  Water  ap- 
peared in  its  most  tantalizing  forms,  and  in  one  instance  a  most  beau- 
tiful lake  appeared  with  lovely  islands,  which  constantly  changed  in 
form  and  receded  as  we  advanced.  We  have  traveled  for  hours  with 
water  constantly  in  sight  only  a  few  rods  in  advance  and  yet  never  able 
to  reach  anything  but  the  dry,  parched  earth  at  our  feet. 

On  one  occasion  I  was  one  of  a  party  hunting  buffalo  a  few  miles 
from  camp.  In  the  run  that  ensued  I  became  separated  from  my  com- 
panions and  I  saw,  on  a  ridge  a  short  distance  ahead,  what  appeared 
to  be  a  small  hut  perhaps  fifteen  feet  square  with  a  still  smaller  ell  all 
perfect  in  shape.  What  could  it  mean?  It  could  hardly  be  the  abode 
of  a  white  man,  for  there  was  no  water  to  be  had  within  a  mile  or  two, 
and   it  was  not  built  like  the  abode  of   Indians   in   that   section.     My 


PAGE  TWO   HUNDRED   SEVEN 


curiosity  was  aroused  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  my  companions 
were  rapidly  increasing  the  distance  that  lay  between  them  and  myself 
and  that  I  might  after  all  be  approaching  the  abode  of  some  red  man, 
I  proceeded  to  investigate.  Cautiously  I  approached  the  spot,  and 
when  within  perhaps  fifty  feet  of  the  structure,  a  huge  buffalo  rose  to 
his  feet,  instantly  dispelling  the  illusion  The  mirage  was  responsible 
for  this  strange  transformation. 

On  the  plains  where  we  were  the  nature  of  the  soil  was  such  that 
petrifactions  were  common — wood,  ibones  and  even  flesh  quickly  turned 
to  stone,  when  lying  even  on  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The  men  of 
my  company  found  a  petrified  rattlesnake.  They  had  no  conception 
of  its  value  and  broke  it  in  pieces.  I  fortunately  secured  a  part  and  it 
now  graces  my  collection  of  petrifactions  found  there,  as  do  also  nu- 
merous specimens  of  wood  and  bone,  including  pieces  of  the  jaw  of 
the  wolf  with  the  teeth  intact. 

The  prairie  owl  and  the  rattlesnake  were  said  to  share  the  same 
homes  with  the  prairie  dog.  The  owl  was  not  found  in  great  numbers, 
but  the  rattlesnake  was  very  common,  and  constant  care  was  taken  to 
keep  out  of  his  way.  The  only  sure  cure  for  the  bite  of  this  snake 
was  said  to  be  the  drinking  of  a  pint  or  more  of  pure  whisky  at  one 
draught,  but  as  whisky  was  hard  to  obtain  in  that  county  and  pure 
whisky  not  to  be  found  at  all,  every  one  was  extremely  careful  not  to 
be  bitten  by  rattlesnakes. 

The  prairie  wolves,  especially  the  smaller  breed  or  coyote,  are  in- 
teresting creatures  to  study.  They  exist  in  vast  numbers,  living  in 
chambers  or  wolf  holes  in  the  ground,  where  they  are  safe  from  the 
attacks  of  all  enemies  and  they  appear  to  have  but  few.  They  sub- 
sist chiefly  on  the  flesh  of  other  animals,  squirrels,  prairie  dogs,  rabbits, 
frogs,  mice,  antelope  and  dead  buffalo  or  those  so  near  dead  that  they 
fall  easy  prey  to  their  attacks.  They  seldom  attack  a  vigorous  buffalo, 
but  the  antelope  falls  an  easy  victim  to  their  cunning,  which  may  be 
said  to  equal  that  of  the  fox.  The  antelope  is  far  the  swifter  of  the 
two  in  a  race,  but,  in  its  capture,  the  cunning  of  the  wolf  comes  into 
full  play.  Once  an  antelope  is  marked  for  slaughter  the  coyotes  divide 
themselves  into  relays  and  station  themselves  at  widely  separate  points 
The  first  relay,  perhaps  a  single  wolf,  will  start  the  antelope  and  keep 
up  the  chase  as  long  as  his  endurance  will  allow;  then  the  second  relay 
will  take  up  the  chase,  while  the  first  rests,  and  continue  till  he,  too, 
is  compelled  to  rest,  when  the  first  or  a  third  relay  will  continue  the 
race  till  the  antelope  is  exhausted  and  falls  an  easy  prey  to  its  pur- 
suers. During  the  chase  the  coyotes  so  arrange  themselves  that  their 
victim  travels  in  a  circle  and  his  escape  is  impossible. 

Tactics  as  efficacious  are  employed  to  capture  the  rabbits  or 
prairie  dogs,  but  these  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  hunger  of  the  wolves. 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED   EIGHT 


As  illustrating  the  large  number  of  coyotes  that  existed  on  the 
plains,  I  remember  on  one  occasion,  after  killing  a  buffalo  near  camp, 
I  made  one  or  two  incisions  in  the  flesh  with  my  hunting  knife,  and  in 
these  I  placed  a  small  quantity  of  strychnine  for  the  benefit  of  the 
wolves  which  I  knew  would  visit  the  carcass  during  the  night.  The 
next  day,  on  revisiting  the  scene,  I  found,  within  the  space  of  a  few 
rods,  twenty-two  dead  wolves.  The  skins  were  quickly  stripped  off  by 
the  men  with  me  and  made  their  quarters  more  comfortable. 

In  the  settlements  these  wolves  render  the  keeping  of  poultry  and 
even  sheep  well  nigh  impossible.  In  1904  Kansas  paid  bounties  on 
twenty  thousand  coyote  scalps  without  making  any  appreciable  differ- 
ence in  their  number. 

The  buffalo  or  grey  wolf  is  a  much  larger  animal,  nearly  as  large 
as  a  Newfoundland  dog.  They  are  not  as  numerous  as  the  coyote, 
but  are  sometimes  dangerous  fellows  to  meet,  especially  at  night  or 
when  several  are  in  a  pack.  They  also  subsist  largely  on  flesh.  They 
do  not  need  to  run  down  their  prey  as  do  the  coyotes,  but  their  tactics 
are  just  as  shrewd  They  are  generally  found  with  the  herds  of  buf- 
falo, and  sometimes  attack  the  old  and  decrepit  members  of  the  herd, 
but  more  often  they  are  found  near  an  old  bull  that  has  been  driven 
from  the  herd  by  the  young  bulls.  Such  a  fellow  is  an  easy  victim. 
Some  of  the  wolves  attack  him  in  front  and  while  trying  to  ward  off 
this  attack,  others  assail  him  in  the  rear,  cut  off  the  cords  of  his  hind 
feet  or  in  other  ways  deprive  him  of  his  strength,  and  thus  make  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  travel  or  even  -fight  off  his  assailants.  Thus  his 
doom  is  sealed  and,  even  before  life  is  extinct,  the  hungry  wolves  are 
feasting  on  his  flesh. 

Indian  Tribes 

The  Indians  of  the  plains  with  whom  we  came  in  contact  were 
the  Cheyennes,  Sioux,  Apaches,  Kiawas  and  Arrapahoes.  The  Sioux 
were  a  part  of  the  great  Sioux  nation  of  the  North.  These  Indians 
roamed  the  vast  plains  between  the  Mississippi  river  and  the  Rocky 
mountains,  and  were  leagued  together  for  war  purposes  against  the 
were  joined  by  the  Comanches  of  the  South.  These  tribes  were  at 
whites,  and  when  the  region  of  the  Arkansas  river  was  invaded  they 
war  with  all  other  tribes  of  the  plains  and  mountains.  There  was  also 
a  band  of  Indians,  said  to  contain  two  hundred  fifty  lodges  of  from  eight 
to  ten  each,  known  as  the  Keoxa  or  Cut  race,  composed  of  renegades 
from  all  the  other  tribes  of  the  plains.  These  ranged  mostly  in  the 
Cheyenne  country. 

At  the  time  I  was  on  the  plains  the  chief  of  the  Northern  Chey- 
ennes was  White  Crow.  The  chief  of  the  Southern  band  had  been 
Grey  Eagle  till  June,  1865,  when  he  was  killed  at  Platte  Bridge  and 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    NINE 


was  succeeded  by  his  brother,  Spotted  Wolf.  The  Man  Afraid  of  His 
Horses  was  war  chief  of  all  the  Sioux  of  the  Arkansas  and  the  Powder 
river  country,  while  his  son,  Ta-Sungy-Ko-Ku-Pa  or  Son  of  the  Man 
Afraid  of  His  Horses  was  the  war  chief  of  the  Ogalalah  Sioux;  of  the 
Kioxa,  or  Cut  race,  Dog  Valley  was  chief;  of  the  Kiowa,  Setank  was 
chief;  of  the  Comanches,  White  Buffalo;  of  the  Southern  band  of  Ara- 
pahoes,  Left  Hand  and  Single  Eye  were  chiefs;  and  of  the  Northern 
band,  Wolf  Moccasin  and  White  Wolf  were  chiefs;  and  of  the  Smoky 
Hill  Apaches,  Broken  Nag  was  chief. 

The  Apaches,  which  formerly  were  a  large  and  formidable  tribe, 
were  reduced  to  less  than  a  hundred  lodges.  In  1856  the  smallpox 
made  fearful  ravages  among  them,  and  threatened  their  extermination. 
The  smallpox  has  been  a  great  enemy  to  all  the  tribes  of  the  plains. 
Its  appearance  caused  consternation  among  them.  They  did  not 
know  how  to  avoid  infection,  or  care  for  the  sick,  and  once  an  Indian 
was  stricken,  he  was  deserted  and  left  to  die  alone  on  the  prairie.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  cholera  and  the  measles,  though  not  to  the  same 
extent. 

All  the  Indians  of  the  plains  are  nomadic.  They  remain  in  one 
locality  only  as  long  as  convenience  or  necessity  requires.  Their  homes 
are  tepees  or  lodges.  These  are  made  of  long  poles,  fastened  together 
at  the  top,  spread  out  in  a  circle  to  the  width  of  fifteen  feet,  more  or 
less,  on  the  ground,  and  covered  with  robes,  with  a  place  left  for  a 
door,  which  may  be  closed  with  a  blanket  when  desired.  A  fire  is 
built  when  needed  in  the  center,  and  the  smoke,  when  it  passes  out  at 
all,  disappears  through  a  small  hole  in  the  top.  This  fire  is  used  for 
cooking  and  heating  purposes  in  cold  weather,  but  the  cooking  is  done 
outside  in  warm  weather.  The  Indians  sleep  or  recline  in  a  circle 
around  the  fire.  The  home  life  inside  the  tepees  is  but  little  above  that 
of  cattle. 

These  tepees  are  put  up  or  taken  down  in  a  few  minutes  by  the 
squaws.  In  traveling  the  large  ends  of  the  tepee  poles  are  lashed  to 
the  sides  of  the  ponies,  and  the  small  ends  left  to  drag  on  the  ground. 
On  the  ponies'  backs  and  on  these  poles  are  placed  the  papooses,  the 
tent  robes  and  other  belongings  of  the  Indian  encampment. 

These  Indians,  physically,  are  a  superb  race  of  men,  almost  a  race 
of  giants.  In  Africa  there  is  a  race  of  men  called  the  Wolofs,  which 
average  over  six  feet  in  height  (1.730  meters),  said  to  be  the  largest 
race  on  earth.  The  Cheyenne  Indians  of  the  plains  come  next  with 
an  average  height  of  nearly  six  feet,  and  to  the  casual  observer  there 
is  but  little  difference  in  height  between  this  and  the  other  tribes. 
These  Indians  by  nature  and  training  are  capable  of  great  endurance — a 
marvel  to  the  white  man. 

While  the  Indian  is  really  nomadic,  abiding  in  no  locality  long  at 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TEN 


a  time,  yet  his  migrations  are  and  have  been  confined  to  a  limited  ter- 
ritory, and  no  race  of  people  have  shown  a  stronger  love  of  country 
than  they.  Their  removal  from  one  section  of  the  country  to  another 
has  been  a  fruitful  cause  of  decimation  by  homesickness  and  climatic 
changes  to  which  they  were  unaccustomed. 

Indian  Chiefs 

All  tribes  have,  or  are  supposed  to  have,  three  or  more  chiefs — 
the  war  chief,  the  village  chief,  and  the  medicine  man.  First  is  the  war 
chief — the  man  who  is  generally  known  and  recognized  by  the  outside 
world  as  the  chief  of  a  tribe  or  nation,  for  he  is  the  leader  of  his  tribe 
in  war  and  in  council.  This  man  by  the  force  of  his  character  may 
be  a  Little  Crow,  a  Black  Hawk,  or  a  Sitting  Bull,  and  controls  not 
only  his  immediate  tribe,  but  brings  a  nation  under  his  control  like 
Passaconaway  of  the  Pennacooks. 

A  warrior  must  be  a  born  leader  of  men  to  long  occupy  the  posi- 
tion of  war  chief  at  the  head  of  a  tribe  of  Indians  that  have  existed 
and  does  now  exist  on  the  plains  or  among  the  mountains  of  the  West. 

The  village  chief  is  generally  or  always  one  of  the  old  men  of  the 
tribe,  one  who  is  too  old  to  engage  in  war.  His  most  responsible 
duty  seemed  to  be  to  care  for  the  village,  or  tribe,  while  the  able 
bodied  men  were  on  the  war  path.  In  times  of  peace  he  probably  had 
duties  to  perform,  but  his  position  seemed  to  be  one  chiefly  of  honor 
or  distinction  because  of  his  record  as  a  warrior,  but  one  of  his  duties 
was  to  decide  the  question  of  the  moving  of  the  village  to  new  loca- 
tions. 

The  Medicine  Man  is  the  third  chief.  He  also  holds  his  position 
by  the  force  of  his  character — his  ability  to  correctly  prophesy,  his 
success  in  healing  the  s'ick  and  his  valor  in  war.  The  famous  Indian 
doctor,  skilled  in  the  knowledge  of  the  curative  value  of  herbs,  is 
known  in  story,  but  among  the  Indians  of  the  plains  he  is  a  myth. 
When  the  women  of  a  lodge  cannot  cure  a  case  of  sickness  by  the  use 
of  common  herbs,  of  which  they  have  some  knowledge,  they  set  up  a 
series  of  ihowls  among  themselves.  This  failing,  the  Medicine  Man 
comes  to  their  assistance.  He  summons  all  the  women  of  the  village 
and  they  jo'in  in  a  greater  howl,  sing  incantations,  and  beat  the  tom- 
toms over  the  head  of  the  sufferer,  and  sometimes,  in  spite  of  this 
treatment,  the  sufferer  recovers.  This  treatment  is  sometimes  varied 
by  a  treatment  that  may  have  some  virtue,  viz.:  burying  the  affected 
one  in  a  trench,  previously  heated  by  a  fire,  with  only  his  head  exposed, 
thus  giving  him  a  sweat.  If  he  survives  this  cooking  process,  he  is 
sometimes  cured  of  a  cold  or  rheumatism. 

The  presence  of  the  Medicine  chief  is  required  with  every  war 
party',  and  he  must  prove  his  immunity  to  harm  by  being  a  leader  in 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    ELEVEN 


action,  and  if  h'is  medicine  fails,  he  is  likely  to  be  deposed  and  another 
given  his  position.  He  is  also  a  semi-priest  or  comes  as  near  a  spiritual 
leader  as  is  known  among  the  savages  of  the  plains.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  more  proper  to  call  him  an  oracle.  Sometimes  this  man  has  such 
power  that  even  the  arrows  that  his  squaws  make  (for  he  is  allowed 
two  wives)  and  that  he  sells  have  such  wonderful  power,  that  there  is 
great  competition  to  possess  them,  and  he  grows  rich  in  ponies  and 
blankets  by  their  sale. 

The  Indians  of  the  plains  have  no  written  language,  and  the  num- 
ber of  their  spoken  words  is  very  limited,  for  the  reason  that  a  few 
words  will  cover  the  full  scope  of  ordinary  conversation  or  intercourse. 
With  any  people  words  are  used  to  express  ideas  or  convey  facts,  and 
so  the  Indian,  having  but  few  ideas  to  express,  (has  need  of  but  few 
words.  To  illustrate,  there  is  no  word  in  their  language  to  correspond 
to  the  word  virtue  in  the  English  because  such  a  trait  is  unknown 
among  their  men  or  women.  The  word  would  as  appropriately  apply 
to  the  buffalo  of  the  plains  as  to  them. 

Probably  no  other  word  is  so  extensively  used  or  has  such  varied 
meaning  as  the  word  "medicine."  Its  use  as  applied  to  remedies  for 
the  sick  is  of  small  importance  as  compared  with  its  use  in  many  other 
directions.  An  omen  for  good  or  evil  'is  good  or  bad  medicine  as  the 
case  may  be.  If  about  to  engage  in  war  or  the  hunt,  the  Indian  "makes 
medicine"  to  ascertain  what  the  result  will  be.  Indeed,  making  medi- 
cine is  an  every-day  affair  for  the  Indian. 

Indian  "Medicine" 

"What  is  it  to  make  medicine?"  is  asked.  This  question  is  not  so 
easily  answered.  As  a  partial  answer,  it  may  be  said  the  Indian  is  a 
very  superstitious  being.  He  believes  in  the  existence  of  a  good  spirit 
and  a  bad  spirit,  who  are  constantly  at  war  in  their  efforts  to  obtain 
mastery  over  him.  If  he  succeeds  in  accomplishing  his  desires,  it  is 
because  he  is  assisted  by  the  good  spirit;  if  he  fails,  it  is  because  the 
bad  spirit  is  in  the  ascendency  at  the  time.  To  propitiate  the  spirits 
or  learn  how  to  read  their  desires  or  designs,  every  warrior  has  a 
method  of  his  own  that  is  known  only  to  himself,  and  this  is  called  his 
"medicine."  Every  young  man  before  becoming  a  warrior  in  his 
tribe,  retires  to  some  lonely  spot,  and  spends  days  or  even  a  week  in 
solitude,  fasting  and  undergoing  bodily  discomfort  and  privations,  seek- 
ing to  know  what  shall  be  his  medicine  through  life.  Constantly 
dwelling  day  and  night  on  the  problem  until  exhausted  by  hunger,  and 
the  prey  of  his  own  benighted  mind,  he  falls  into  a  trance  and  is  then 
told  what  shall  be  h'is  "medicine."  Usually  it  is  the  mixing  of  two  or 
three  ingredients,  like  water  and  ashes  or  pulverized  bone,  or  two  or 
three  kinds  of  sand,  or  something  else  that  can  be  done  quickly  and 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED   TWELVE 


secretly,  but  whatever  it  is,  his  "medicine"  is  never  revealed  to  his 
nearest  friend.  In  making  medicine  he  thinks  he  can  divine  what  the 
near  future  has  in  store  for  him,  and  so  he  never  engages  in  a  hunt  or 
does  anything  of  importance  without  first  making  "medicine"  to  de- 
termine what  the  result  will  be. 

To  be  under  the  influence  of  the  good  spirit  is  not  to  be  influenced 
to  do  right,  but  to  be  assisted  to  do  what  he  wants  to  do,  if  it  is  to 
steal  or  even  to  commit  the  most  atrocious  crimes.  All  success  or 
good  luck  is  attributed  to  good  medicine. 

Each  tribe  speaks  a  language  of  its  own,  and  though  these  tribes 
have  been  neighbors  for  an  unknown  number  of  years,  they  have 
shown  no  disposition  to  learn  the  language  of  other  tribes  than  their 
own.  Intermarriage  is  almost  unknown,  and  thus  the  several  tribes 
preserve  their  individualities  like  distinct  nations. 

There  is,  however,  what  is  known  as  the  sign  language  that  is  used 
exclusively  in  their  limited  communications  with  each  other.  It  was 
a  common  remark  that  the  Indian  could  not  talk  in  the  dark.  This  is 
literally  true  as  regards  communication  between  different  tribes,  but 
incorrect  as  regards  individuals  of  the  same  tribe. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  these  Indians  have  what  is  called  the 
Sun  Dance.  At  this  dance  the  doctor,  instead  of  bleeding  his  patients, 
is  bled  himself.  A  vein  is  opened,  his  blood  is  caught  on  a  piece  of 
raw  hide,  and  the  braves  pass  in  procession,  stroke  the  hair  of  the  doc- 
tor, dip  the  ends  of  their  fingers  in  the  blood  and  then  touch  the  blood 
on  their  fingers  to  their  tongues.  This  is  done  to  give  health  to  the 
body  and  strength  of  heart  in  time  of  battle.  As  the  braves  pass  by 
ihim,  the  doctor  recounts  the  brave  deeds  of  each  during  the  year,  and 
to  the  bravest  he  designates  the  best  squaw  of  the  village  to  be  his 
wife.  If  the  father  of  the  woman  objects,  he  incurs  the  displeasure 
of  all  the  braves  of  the  village.  During  this  dance  of  the  braves  the 
squaws  have  a  dance  of  their  own  a  little  way  off. 

In  the  fall  of  1864,  a  party  of  six  Arrapahoes  went  into  the  Ute 
country  to  steal  horses.  Being  discovered  and  pursued  by  the  Utes, 
they  took  refuge  on  a  rocky  bluff  and  there  defended  themselves  for 
six  days  surrounded  by'  their  pursuers.  All  this  time  they  were  with- 
out water.  Finally  they  cut  off  their  hair  and  tore  up  their  blankets 
and  made  a  rope,  and  on  the  night  of  the  sixth  day  they  let  themselves 
down  the  bluff  at  an  unguarded  spot  and  escaped.  The  next  spring 
at  the  Sun  Dance,  each  of  these  six  warriors  was  given  a  blooming 
squaw  as  a  reward  for  his  endurance  and  bravery. 

The  time  of  the  Sun  Dance  is  a  great  occasion  for  the  fathers  to 
give  their  daughters  in  marriage.  At  this  time  he  never  sells  his  daugh- 
ter, but  gives  her  to  one  who  has   distinguished  himself  for  bravery. 

The  usual  way  for  a  brave  to  get  a  wife  is  to  buy  her  of  her  father. 


PAGE  TWO   HUNDRED  THIRTEEN 


Having  selected  the  squaw  of  his  choice,  he  says  nothing  to  her,  but 
ties  a  pony  at  the  lodge  of  the  father,  or  makes  a  present  of  robes  or 
some  other  article,  according  to  his  ability.  If  the  gift  is  accepted,  he 
has  won  his  suit,  but  if  the  gift  is  untouched,  he  adds  to  his  gift  or 
tries  for  a  wife  at  another  place.  When  such  a  gift  is  accepted,  the 
young  brave  claims  his  wife  and  no  ceremony  is  needed.  Should  she 
object,  her  suitor  has  a  perfect  right  to  inflict  such  punishment  on  her 
as  he  may  wish  and  no  one  raises  an  objection.  In  one  of  these  tribes 
was  a  woman  whose  nose  had  been  cut  off  by  the  man  who  had  pur- 
chased her,  because  she  refused  to  be  his  wife.  Still  she  may  leave 
him  later  for  another  if  she  chooses.  Marriage  ties  are  loose,  and  a 
brave  may  make  love  to  a  woman  even  in  the  presence  of  her  husband. 

The  food  of  the  Indians  is  of  the  simplest.  In  kind,  manner 
of  cooking  and  serving  it  is  generally  repulsive  in  the  extreme 
to  a  white  man.  On  state  occasions  and  at  other  great  events  the 
roast  dog  is  the  all  important  food.  The  dog  is  killed,  when  two 
squaws,  one  holding  it  by  the  hind  feet  and  one  by  the  head  or  fore 
feet,  slowly  turn  its  body  over  the  fire  till  most  of  the  hair  is  burned 
off.  This  is  the  only  dressing  it  has,  and  it  is  then  placed  beside  the 
fire  to  roast.  In  due  time  it  is  done,  carved  and  served  with  due  cere- 
mony. On  ordinary  occasions  a  very  choice  dish  is  a  stew  made 
of  an  unborn  buffalo  calf.  Next  to  this  in  point  of  delicacy  is  a  stew 
made  of  the  entrails  of  any  animal.  When  on  the  march  or  on  the 
hunt,  they  would  greedily  devour  the  entrails  raw,  and  also  the  liver, 
heart  and  the  marrow  from  the  bones.  After  a  buffalo  is  killed,  the 
first  thing  an  Indian  will  generally  do  is  to  gorge  himself  with  these 
delicacies,  and  he  will  quickly  dispose  of  a  surprising  amount. 

Frogs,  eaten  raw  and  without  any  dressing,  are  an  important  article 
of  diet.  When  in  pursuit  of  a  party  of  Cheyennes  one  day,  we  came 
to  a  ranch  which  they  had  just  visited.  The  ranch  was  supplied  with 
flour,  beans,  hardtack,  sugar,  coffee,  etc.,  and  the  Indians  considered 
the  white  man's  food  so  much  better  than  their  own  that  they  appro- 
priated these  to  their  own  use,  and  threw  away  a  large  number  of 
frogs  which  they  were  carrying  as  food. 

Another  dish  that  is  much  prized  in  winter  is  a  stew  made  of 
dried  crickets  and  dried  cherries.  At  times  in  the  summer  or  early 
fall,  crickets  are  very  plentiful.  Then  the  squaws  dig  a  hole  in  the 
ground  that  will  hold  perhaps  a  bushel  or  more.  This  done,  they  form 
in  a  circle  some  distance  away  and  beat  the  grass  with  blankets,  driv- 
ing the  crickets  inward  to  this  hole,  which  is  sometimes  nearly  filled 
as  the  result  of  a  single  drive.  They  are  then  easily  placed  in  bags 
and  dried  for  winter  use.  The  dherries  used  are  very  small  wild 
cherries. 

The  staple  food  of  the  year,  however,  is  the  flesh  of  the  buffalo. 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    FOURTEEN 


"Jerked"  buffalo  meat  is  prepared  by  cutting  or  tearing  the  flesh  with 
the  grain  into  thin  strips  and  drying  it  in  the  sun.  In  this  condition 
it  is  stored  away  for  winter  use,  and  eaten  dry  or  cooked  in  various 
ways.  One  way  is  to  beat  it  into  a  powder  and  make  a  soup  of  it,  but 
eaten  dry  it  is  very  palatable,  as  we  can  testify  from  experience. 

One  cause  of  trouble  between  the  white  men  and  the  Indian  was 
the  ruthless  killing  of  the  buffalo  by  the  former.  The  Indian  rarely 
killed  one  of  these  animals  unless  it  was  needed  for  food.  In  the  fall 
of  the  year,  before  the  buffalo  migrated  to  the  south,  the  Indians 
always  had  a  great  hunt,  called  the  "surround,"  when  large  numbers 
were  killed  and  their  flesh  dried  and  prepared  for  winter.  Then  the 
number  killed  was  only  limited  to  the  ability  of  the  squaws  to  care  for 
the  meat,  for,  however  pressing  the  necessity,  the  men  would  sooner 
face  starvation  in  the  winter  than  assist  in  the  preparation  of  the  food. 
His  duty  ends  when  the  game  is  killed,  and  while  the  squaw  works  he 
gorges  himself.  In  this  hunt,  the  Indians  surround  a  small  herd, 
which  is  soon  on  the  run.  Escape  being  cut  off  in  every  direction 
the  buffalo  are  soon  moving  rapidly  in  a  circle,  the  Indians  on  all  sides 
moving  with  them,  killing  as  they  fly.  This  continues  till  a  sufficient 
number  are  dispatched.  Then  the  work  of  the  squaws  commences 
in  preparing  the  meat  for  present  or  winter  use,  while  the  men  gorge 
themselves  with  the  raw  liver  or  the  marrow  from  the  bones. 

The  killing  of  these  huge  animals  by  the  Indians  with  the  arrow 
is  a  marvelous  feat,  requiring  great  skill  and  strength  of  arm.  They 
usually  discharge  the  arrow  when  but  a  few  feet  from  the  buffalo 
and  must  strike  the  liver  or  some  other  vital  spot  to  kill.  We  read 
in  one  of  our  leading  magazines  not  many  months  since  of  an  Indian 
who  sent  an  arrow  entirely  through  a  large  buffalo  and  wounded  an- 
other. Such  a  statement  is  simply  ridiculous.  We  heard  of  one  In- 
dian on  the  plains  of  such  wonderful  strength  that  an  arrow  fired  by 
him  protruded  through  the  skin  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  animal  from 
the  Indian,  but  that  was  considered  a  hunter's  yarn. 

Smoking  among  the  Indians  is  almost  universal,  but  smoking 
alone,  as  the  white  man  does,  is  comparatively  unknown.  Smoking  is 
a  social  event  with  the  Indian,  and  one  pipe  serves  the  entire  party. 
Seated  in  a  circle,  as  in  all  gatherings,  even  for  a  talk,  a  pipe  is  lighted 
and  started  on  its  journey.  Each  man  in  turn  takes  several  long, 
strong  pulls  at  the  pipe  and  fills  his  lungs  with  the  smoke,  then  passes 
the  pipe  to  his  left  hand  neighbor,  and  allows  the  smoke  to  work 
leisurely  from  his  lungs  through  the  nose.  When  the  pipe  has  made 
the  round,  and  reaches  the  last  man  in  the  circle,  it  is  passed  back, 
traveling  from  left  to  right  to  the  starting  point  without  being  used, 
when  it  again  starts  on  its  round,  traveling  to  the  left  as  before. 

The   pipe   of   peace   has   been   known    since    the    first    white   man 

PAGE  TWO   HUNDRED   FIFTEEN 


landed  on  the  shores  of  America,  and  it  is  still  of  importance  in  all 
councils  between  different  tribes  and  nations,  and  between  the  Indians 
and  the  Whites.  This  pipe  is  usually  one  kept  by  each  tribe  for  council 
purposes.  It  usually  has  a  stem  three  feet  long,  and  is  very  costly  and 
elaborate,  finished  and  ornamented  in  the  highest  Indian  art.  The 
bowl  is  made  of  various  materials,  but  the  Sioux  of  the  North  make 
theirs  almost  invariably  from  pipestone,  obtained  from  the  quarry  in 
what  is  now  known  as  Pipestone  county,  in  the  extreme  western  part 
of  Minnesota.  The  Indians  would  travel  hundreds  of  miles  to  obtain 
the  red  stone  of  this  quarry  for  making  their  pipes.  When  first  quar- 
ried, this  stone  can  be  worked  with  a  knife  or  file,  but  hardens  by  ex- 
posure to  the  air.  We  have  one  such  pipe  in  our  collection  of  Indian 
relics.  They  have  three  or  four  kinds  of  pipes,  including  a  medicine 
pipe  to  be  used  on  various  occasions.  The  material  mostly  smoked 
now  is  the  white  man's  tobacco,  because  that  is  easily  obtained,  but 
formerly  and  to  some  extent  now,  the  material  smoked  by  the  In- 
dians was  kinnikinnick,  made  of  the  bark  of  the  red  willow. 

Scalping  the  victims  of  war  is  common  with  all  tribes  for  two 
reasons:  The  possession  of  scalps  is  a  proof  of  valor  in  obtaining 
them,  and  the  scalping  of  an  enemy  means  the  annihilation  of  his  soul. 
No  Indian  can  enter  the  happy  hunting  ground  that  has  been  scalped, 
and  this  explains  the  fact  that  the  bodies  of  those  slain  in  battle  are 
always,  if  possible,  carried  away  by  their  fellow  warriors.  Indians  will 
perform  deeds  of  great  daring  to  prevent  the  bodies  of  the  slain  from 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  thus  prevent  their  being 
scalped  and  forever  excluded  from  the  happy  hunting  grounds. 

The  burial  of  the  dead  varies  with  different  tribes  and  different 
circumstances.  Among  the  Sioux  of  Western  Minnesota,  those  who 
aped  the  customs  of  the  white  buried  their  dead  in  the  ground,  but 
many  continued  as  of  old  to  dispose  of  their  dead  on  platforms  erected 
on  poles,  or  placed  in  the  branches  of  trees.  When  a  suitable  tree 
could  not  be  found,  stout  poles  were  placed  in  the  ground,  and  from 
five  to  eight  feet  above  the  ground,  was  made  a  platform,  perhaps  four 
feet  wide  by  six  or  eight  feet  long.  On  this  was  placed  the  body,  and 
beside  it,  such  articles  as  he  would  need  on  his  journey  to  the  happy 
hunting  grounds,  or  after  having  reached  his  long  abode,  such  as 
articles  of  food,  his  implements  of  war  or  the  chase,  and  in  some  in- 
stances, pots  and  kettles  to  use  in  preparing  his  food. 

It  was  on  such  a  platform  as  this  that  a  scalping  knife  and  flint 
lock  pistol,  that  now  adorn  my  collection  of  Indian  relics,  were  found. 
These  places  of  burial  were  visited  at  night  by  the  female  relatives  of 
the  deceased,  and  a  series  of  howls  indulged  in,  in  concert,  as  a  means 
of  expressing  their  sorrow.  , 

During  all  our  stay  on  the  plains  of  western  Kansas,  we  did  not 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    SIXTEEN 


find  a  single  burial  place  of  the  Indians.  This  is  explained  by  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  of  this  section  generally  secreted  their  dead  in  some 
cavern  or  out  of  the  way  place,  unknown  to  all  except  the  two  or 
three  engaged  in  the  disposal  of  the  remains,  and  not  disclosed  by 
them.  On  the  death  of  a  warrior,  all  his  effects  were  destroyed — tepee, 
blankets  and  war  implements  cut  up,  except  the  few  buried  with  him, 
and  even,  in  some  cases,  his  ponies  were  killed.  His  face  was  generally 
painted,  and  without  further  ceremony,  his  body  was  thrown  across 
the  back  of  a  pony  or  dragged  ruthlessly  over  the  ground  to  the  place 
of  burial.  Here  it  was  secreted,  and  all  traces  of  the  burial  removed 
as  far  as  possible,  so  that  even  the  nearest  relative  did  not  know  its 
last  resting  place. 

Poisoned  arrows  are  sometimes  used  by  these  Indians.  One 
method  of  poisoning  the  arrow  points  was  to  place  a  piece  of  raw  liver 
before  a  rattlesnake,  which  was  sure  to  bite  anything  within  reach. 
The  venom  injected  into  the  liver  poisons  the  whole,  and  into  this  the 
points  of  a  large  number  of  arrows  are  thrust,  and  the  blood  from  the 
liver  dries  on  the  arrow  point  but  softens  and  becomes  active,  when  it 
finds  a  place  in  the  flesh  of  man  or  beast.  When  the  poisoned  liver 
is  not  needed  for  immediate  use,  it  is  dried,  pulverized,  and  preserved 
in  bags,  and  when  needed  is  soaked  in  water,  and  in  this  the  arrows 
are  placed  with  the  same  result  as  when  thrust  into  the  soft  liver. 
But  the  use  of  the  poisoned  arrows  was  not  very  common. 

While  Col.  Tamblyn  and  his  battalion  of  four  companies  were 
making  their  way  west  over  the  plains,  Col.  C.  A.  R.  Dimond,  with 
his  battalion  of  six  companies,  came  down  the  Missouri  river  from 
Fort  Rice,  and  other  points  on  the  Upper  Missouri  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth and  were  mustered  out  of  service.  During  all  their  stay  at  Fort 
Rice,  Fort  Benton,  and  other  places,  they  had  been  surrounded  by 
hostiles,  who  made  constant  warfare  on  them.  Even  fuel  for  the  forts 
could  not  be  cut  except  under  the  protection  of  a  strong  and  vigi- 
lant guard.  One  day  Lieut.  Wilson  was  sent  out  from  Fort  Rice  with 
the  choppers.  Sending  his  party  ahead,  he  lingered  in  the  fort  till 
his  party  had  reached  a  point  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  from 
the  post,  when  he  started  to  overtake  them.  He  had  gained  about 
half  the  distance  between  the  post  and  his  squad  and  was  urging  his 
horse  forward,  when  suddenly,  from  a  nearby  thicket,  came  a  flight 
of  arrows.  Lieut.  Wilson  fell  dead,  and  the  hostiles  suddenly  dis- 
appeared. 

A  few  days  previous  to  this,  two  Indians  were  seen  on  a  bluff  near 
the  fort  making  observations,  and  Col.  Dimond  sent  out  a  party 
which  surrounded  and  captured  them.  These  Indians  were  in  the 
guard  house  when  Lieut.  Wilson  was  killed.  Immediately,  on  being 
informed  of  the  death  of  Wilson,  Col.  Dimond  sent  word  to  these  two 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    SEVENTEEN 


Indians  that  they  would  die  in  one  hour.  The  troops  were  assembled 
and  marched  to  a  bluff  on  the  bank  of  the  Missouri,  near  the  fort,  and 
here  the  two  Indians  were  shot  and  their  lifeless  bodies  thrown  into 
the  river.     This  was  done  as  a  retaliatory  measure. 

We  had  at  Pond  Creek  as  Indian  scout,  guide  and  interpreter,  a 
man  known  as  Bill  Comstock.  He  had  spent  his  life  in  the  Indian 
country  and  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  all  the  Plains  Indians,  was 
well  versed  in  their  habits  and  manner  of  life,  and  could  speak  the 
language  of  all,  or  at  least  by  the  use  of  the  common  sign  language, 
could  converse  with  the  Indians  of  any  tribe.  One  of  the  diversions 
of  the  camp  was  listening  to  his  tales  of  experiences,  his  narrow  escapes 
when  acting  as  a  scout  in  their  country,  of  the  scenes  of  horror  he 
had  witnessed,  or  that  had  come  to  his  knowledge,  and  of  their  modes 
of  life  in  their  villages  and  their  methods  of  warfare.  In  times  of 
peace,  he  had  lived  for  months  in  their  villages,  and  had  shared  their 
hospitality,  though  he  was  known  as  their  bitter  enemy  in  times  of 
war.  The  Indian  nature  is  such  that,  when  peace  is  made,  the  past  is 
forgotten  or  forgiven.  They  come  with  perfect  confidence  and  uncon- 
cern into  the  presence  of  those  they  have  most  wantonly  wronged,  and 
receive  in  like  manner  their  worst  enemy. 

Bill  Comstock  had  a  wonderful  ability  at  trailing  a  party  of  In- 
dians or  a  single  warrior.  He  could  easily  read  all  the  "signs"  left  by 
them  for  the  information  of  other  Indians,  could  interpret  the  meaning 
of  one,  two  or  three  columns  of  smoke  used  in  telegraphing  between 
different  parties,  and,  after  a  party  had  passed,  could  tell  with  remark- 
able accuracy,  by  examining  the  trail,  how  many  were  in  the  party. 
Such  a  man  was  invaluable  at  any  post,  and  he  drew  a  liberal  salary 
from  the  government  for  his  services. 

On  the  Sand  Creek  battlefield  in  the  extreme  southwestern  part 
of  Kansas,  we  got  many  relics  of  Col.  Chivington  in  his  slaughter  of 
the  Indians.  Col.  Chivington  was  the  governor  of  the  territory  of 
Colorado.  The  Indians  committed  some  depredations  and  some  mur- 
ders, when  the  colonel  promptly  organized  a  body  of  settlers  as  sol- 
diers, followed  the  Indians  to  their  encampment  at  Sand  Creek,  came 
upon  them  unawares,  and  slaughtered  many  of  them,  some  reports  say, 
including  men,  women  and  children.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
evidences  of  the  fight.  Col.  Chivington  was  promptly  removed  for 
making  war  on  the  Indians  without  authority. 

The  End 

Life  at  Pond  Creek,  after  our  second  arrival  there,  was  somewhat 
different  from  our  stay  there  during  the  winter.  It  was  now  spring, 
and   there   was   no   necessity    to    reoccupy    our   winter   quarters    under 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    EIGHTEEN 


ground  for  protection  against  the  cold.  Capt.  Ball,  on  reaching  this 
point  in  March,  had  reestablished  the  post  some  distance  from  the 
place  Capt.  McMichael  and  I,  with  our  companies,  had  occupied  before 
the  post  was  evacuated.  His  position  was,  like  ours,  along  the  Smoky 
Hill  creek,  but  on  the  open  prairie,  and  the  men  and  officers  were  all 
accommodated  in  tents.  When  I  arrived  with  my  company,  our  tents 
were  pitched  next  to  those  standing,  simply  enlarging  the  camp. 

The  Overland  Dispatch  company  now  sent  an  occasional  coach 
over  the  line.  Men  and  mules  were  again  placed  at  some  of  the  sta- 
tions that  were  abandoned  the  fall  before,  but  this  effort  seemed  to  be 
done  with  much  caution,  and  it  was  only  at  long  intervals  that  stages 
arrived  and  not  at  all  regularly,  but  in  time  they  came  about  once  a 
week,  bearing  the  mails  and  a  few  passengers,  that  took  their  chance 
of  being  attacked  by  Indians. 

No  Indians  were  seen  in  the  vicinity  of  Pond  Creek  after  our 
arrival  there  the  second  time.  Where  they  were,  no  one  knew,  but 
the  fact  that  no  danger  was  seen  made  most  people  presume  that 
none  existed.  Gradually  the  men  extended  their  range  on  the  prairie, 
hunting  the  buffalo  or  antelope,  or  the  Jack  rabbits,  even  in  small 
parties.  Beyond  the  inevitable  camp  guard,  there  were  no  military 
duties  to  perform,  and  if  the  men  were  present  at  roll  call  night  and 
morning  and  ready  to  respond  when  details  for  guard  were  made  in 
the  morning,  there  were  no  restrictions  on  their  movements.  The  con- 
sequence was  that  hardly  a  day  passed  that  hunting  parties  did  not 
sally  forth  to  hunt,  or  amuse  themselves  shooting  the  prairie  dog  or 
killing  the  rattlesnakes,  which  were  very  numerous. 

Buffalo  hunting  was,  of  course,  the  chief  amusement,  and  I  took 
part  in  these  hunts  frequently.  Some  of  my  experiences  in  these  trips 
I  have  spoken  of  elsewhere.  There  was  another  diversion  which  I 
had,  and  that  was  hunting  for  petrifactions  and  studying  the  works  of 
the  Indians  when  they  were  in  undisputed  possession  of  this  country. 
The  specimens  of  petrifactions  found,  of  wood  and  bones,  lying  upon 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  were  many,  and  now  grace  my  collection  of 
curios,  but,  while  the  works  and  marks  of  the  Indians  were  numerous, 
they  were  of  such  nature  that  they  could  not  be  brought  away.  I  was 
especially  interested  in  studying  the  rude  carvings  of  the  red  men  on 
•the  chalk  bluffs.  Here  were  depicted,  in  the  Indian's  crude  skill,  scenes 
of  the  Chase  and  conflicts  with  the  whites.  They  probably  meant  vol- 
umes to  the  artists  who  carved  them,  or  to  the  Indians  who  saw  them, 
but  to  the  white  man,  not  versed  in  Indian  lore,  much  imagination  and 
guessing  were  needed  to  divine  their  import.  I  attempted  to  cut 
away  some  of  these  specimens,  as  I  considered  them  quite  valuable  if 
they  could  be  preserved,  but  the  chalk  or  slate  on  which  they  were 
engraved  was  too  brittle,  and  every  attempt  only  resulted  in  failure. 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    NINETEEN 


About  the  middle  of  April  I  planned  to  make  a  visit  to  Denver 
on  the  next  stage  coach  that  should  arrive,  and  had  things  in  readi- 
ness for  the  trip,  but,  through  a  misunderstanding  with  the  driver, 
this  worthy  drove  off  without  me,  and  I  consoled  myself  with  the  de- 
termination to  go  by  the  next  coach  that  should  come.  This  came 
about  the  first  of  May,  and  its  mail  brought  orders  for  me  to  proceed 
with  my  company  to  Leavenworth  for  muster  out,  so  my  trip  to  Den- 
ver was  abandoned.  This  was  quite  a  disappointment,  but  was  soon 
forgotten  in  making  preparations  for  the  march  of  four  hundred  fifty 
miles  to  Leavenworth. 

In  the  early  days  of  May,  1866,  I  bade  farewell  to  my  friends  of 
the  Regular  army,  Capt.  Ball  and  others  with  whom  I  had  served 
pleasantly  the  last  few  months,  and  started  east.  The  march  was  un- 
eventful. At  Monument  station  my  company  was  joined  with  that  of 
Capt.  Strout,  and  we  proceeded  together  to  Fort  Fletcher.  Here  we 
joined  the  two  companies  there,  and  all  proceeded  under  command  of 
Col.  Tamblyn  to  Leavenworth.  On  the  way  I  joined  in  our  last  buf- 
falo hunt  and  rode  alongside  of  an  old  bull  which  I  helped  dispatch, 
but  our  last  meal  of  buffalo  steak  was  so  tough  that  it  was  not  par- 
ticularly enjoyable.  May  10th  we  reached  Fort  Riley,  where  a  day's 
rest  was  enjoyed;  and  five  days  more  of  marching  brought  us  to  Fort 
Leavenworth,  where  a  week  was  spent  in  making  muster-out  rolls 
and  turning  over  our  arms,  camp  and  garrison  equipments  to  the 
proper  officers  at  the  fort.  May  22,  I  was  mustered  out  of  the  service, 
got  my  final  pay  with  allowance  for  travel  to  my  home  in  Bristol,  the 
place  of  my  original  enlistment.  I  also  got  transportation  for  myself 
and  men  to  St.  Louis,  proceeding  thence  by  boat,  and  there  secured 
transportation  for  my  men  to  their  several  places  of  abode  in  the 
southern  states.  These  constituted  my  last  official  acts  in  the  ser- 
vice, and  I  then  found  myself  a  free  man,  to  go  and  come,  not  at  the 
command  of  my  superior  officers,  but  as  inclination  dictated,  after  a 
service  of  three  years  and  ten  months  in  the  army. 

These  years  had  been  momentous  ones  to  me.  When  at  school 
I  had  confidently  expected  to  prepare  for  my  life  work  at  college,  but 
I  found  myself  graduating  from  the  army  instead.  My  education  had 
not  been  attained  by  pouring  over  books,  but  had  been  practical  dis- 
cipline of  the  army  with  its  hardships  and  dangers.  But  there  were 
no  misgivings  over  the  past.  Indeed  I  had  not  seen  a  day  when  I 
regretted  having  placed  my  name  on  the  enlistment  papers,  and  home- 
sickness, which  carried  off  many  of  my  comrades,  never  troubled  me 
for  an  hour.  Besides,  there  was  great  satisfaction  in  knowing  I  had 
helped  in  the  great  work  of  preserving  the  Union. 

From  St.  Louis  my  trip  east  was  made  in  company  with  Lieut. 
John  P.  Eaton.     We  traveled  leisurely,  spent  a  few  days  in  St.  Louis, 

PAGE   TWO   HUNDRED   TWENTY 


Columbus,  Ohio,  at  Niagara  Falls,  and  other  places.  Before  reaching 
the  Falls  we  resolved  that  we  would  not  be  victimized  by  sharpers 
there.  We  had  read  too  much  about  their  ways  to  be  caught,  but  at 
the  end  of  our  visit,  as  we  recounted  our  experience  there,  we  con- 
cluded that,  however  much  we  had  known  before  reaching  there,  we 
knew  much  more  when  we  left. 

At  Niagara  Falls  I  bade  adieu  to  Lieut.  Eaton  and  made  the  rest 
of  my  journey  homeward  alone.  Here  commenced  a  sense  of  loneli- 
ness that  grew  with  the  passing  weeks,  which  was  not  even  dispelled 
by  the  pleasure  of  mingling  again  in  the  home  circle  and  with  friends. 
The  quiet  of  village  life,  with  none  of  the  excitement  of  the  army  with 
its  every  day  duties,  was  oppressive,  but  family  ties  held  me,  and  so  I 
have  passed  my  life,  since  my  return  from  the  army,  in  the  place  where 
I  was  born  and  where,  all  things  considered,  are  more  attractions  than 
any  other  place  on  earth. 

As  the  years  have  rolled  by,  I  have  seen  with  increasing  vividness 
that  the  sacrifice  was  not  all  made  during  the  years  of  my  service;  but 
that  the  lack  of  a  higher  education  was  an  effectual  barrier  against  at- 
taining a  higher  position  in  life,  and  that,  therefore,  the  effect  of  the 
sacrifice  made  in  1862  has  been  with  me  through  life. 


THE  END 


PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-ONE 


BIOGRAPHICAL 

A  further  word  about  father's  life  may  not  be  amiss  here. 

After  returning  from  his  war  service  of  nearly  four  years,  he  was 
for  two  or  three  years  in  the  wool  business  in  Bristol,  and  in  December, 
1870,  opened  a  printing  office  in  town.  In  June,  1878,  he  established 
the  "Bristol  Weekly  Enterprise,"  which  he  edited  continuously  for 
thirty-six  years,  or  until  his  decease.  He  served  his  town  in  various 
capacities — was  for  six  years  on  the  board  of  education  of  Union 
School  district,  six  years  town  clerk,  represented  the  town  in  the  legis- 
lature of  1885,  was  author  of  the  bill  to  provide  for  the  publication  of 
the  "Register  of  New  Hampshire  Soldiers  and  Sailors,  War  of  the 
Rebellion,"  represented  the  Fourth  Senatorial  district  in  the  senate  of 
1891-92,  and  was  for  forty-three  years  recording  steward  of  the  official 
board  of  the  Methodist  church,  and  chairman  of  the  trustees  of  Minot- 
Sleeper  library  from  the  time  of  its  organization  till  his  death.  For 
many  years  he  was  secretary,  treasurer  and  a  director  of  the  Bristol 
Cemetery  association.  He  was  a  Republican,  Mason,  Odd  Fellow, 
and  a  member  of  the  G.  A.  R. 

The  work  for  which  Captain  Musgrove  will  be  the  longest  re- 
membered in  his  own  town  is  the  History  of  Bristol,  which  he  com- 
piled, and  which  was  published  in  1904,  in  two  volumes,  after  a  pains- 
taking research  of  twenty-five  years.  This  history  was  published  along 
original  lines,  departing  somewhat  from  the  character  of  most  histories, 
and  in  comprehensiveness,  depth  of  interest  and  accuracy,  has  been 
pronounced  by  good  judges  the  best  town  history  in  the  state  up  to 
that  time. 

Reckoning  the  years  spent  in  the  war  and  the  years  given  to  the 
compilation  of  his  history,  it  may  truthfully  be  asserted  that  Captain 
Musgrove  gave  his  whole  life  to  the  service  of  others,  and  there  is  no 
question  in  his  case,  as  in  the  case  of  other  G.  A.  R.  men,  that  while 
he  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  physical  ills  contracted  in  the  service  cut 
short  his  life  by  several  years.  Because  of  service  rendered  others,  in- 
cluding sacrifices  to  his  family,  as  the  writer  can  testify,  Captain  Mus- 
grove did  not  accumulate  wealth,  but  died  with  a  name  honored  by 
achievement. 

At  the  altar  of  the  old  Methodist  church  on  Spring  street,  Dec. 
23,  1869,  his  marriage  to  Henrietta  Maria  Guild,  was  solemnized  by 
Rev.   Newell   Culver.     She   was   born   in   Walpole   Sept.    14,    1843,   the 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-THREE 


daughter  of  Bbenezer  and  Sarah  Maria  (Brown)  Guild.  From  girl- 
hood she  was  a  music  teacher  and  church  organist  and  was  very  suc- 
cessful in  training  children  for  chorus  singing.  Like  her  husband,  she 
gave  generously  of  her  time  and  talent,  being  a  potent  factor  for  many 
years  in  the  development  of  the  music  of  the  town.  Her  love,  devo- 
tion, and  sacrifices,  were  not  for  the  public  alone,  but  together  she  and 
father  labored  for  the  good  of  the  home,  making  it  a  blessing  and  in- 
spiration to  their  six  children:  Isadore  Maria,  Frank  Abbott,  Carrie 
Etta,  Mary  Donker,  Anna  Belle,  and  Eugene  Richard. 

Father's  life  ended  Feb.  19,  1914,  and  mother  joined  him  May  6, 
1920. 

They  did  their  work  well,  and  their  lives  inspired  others  to  strive 
for  achievement. 

•     MARY  D.  MUSGROVE. 


Tributes  From  the  Press 

The  fellow  publishers  of  Capt.  Richard  W.  Musgrove  bestowed 
many  tributes  to  his  memory.  The  following  are  extract's  from  edi- 
torial columns  of  the  press: 

"Practically  every  newspaper  man  in  the  State  and  many  outside 
send  sympathy  to  the  Musgrove  family  at  Bristol.  Capt.  Richard  W. 
Musgrove  held  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  the  editors  in  the  State  as 
well  as  of  a  large  circle  of  friends  in  other  walks  of  life,  and  one  and 
all  regret  his  death,  which  occurred  last  week  Thursday  morning.  As 
editor  he  was  always  fair  to  his  readers,  to  the  public  and  to  his 
brothers  in  the  profession.  Genial  and  kindly  in  disposition,  there  was 
a  manliness  about  him  which  commanded  respect.  A  veteran  of  the 
Civil  War  and  later  as  a  soldier  in  the  regular  army  in  the  Indian  wars 
he  was  an  influential  member  of  the  Grand  Army.  A  consistent  Chris- 
tian who  lived  his  religion,  he  was  a  prominent  member  of  the  Metho- 
dist Church  and  influential  in  the  councils  of  the  denomination.  His 
death  removes  a  man  whose  place  will  not  easily  be  filled." — Journal 
Transcript. 

"New  Hampshire  Methodism  lost  one  of  its  leading  laymen  in  the 
death  of  Capt.  Richard  W.  Musgrove.  He  was  among  New  Hamp- 
shire's best  known  and  most  esteemed  citizens,  staunch  in  his  character, 
faithful  in  every  trust  which  was  imposed  upon  him,  loyal  to  family  and 
to  friends,  and  devoted  to  his  church.  .  .  .  For  many  years  he  was 
the  publisher  of  the  New  Hampshire  Conference  Minutes,  and  was  a 
famil'iar  figure  at  these  gatherings,  from  which  he  will  be  missed  as 
much  as  any  member  of  the  Conference.  A  true  hearted  Christian 
soldier  has  laid  down  his  armor." — Zion's  Herald. 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-FOUR 


"The  death  of  Captain  Richard  W.  Musgrove,  owner  and  founder 
of  The  Bristol,  N.  H.,  Enterprise,  is  a  distinct  loss  to  the  newspaper 
fraternity  throughout  the  state.  He  was  a  veteran  of  the  12th  N.  H. 
Regiment  in  the  Civil  War  and  was  the  highest  type  of  a  man  and  a 
citizen.  Unassuming  in  manner,  but  dignified  in  bearing  and  deeply 
religious,  he  filled  many  positions  of  responsibility  and  will  be  greatly 
missed  in  his  home  town.  Mr.  Musgrove  made  his  paper  a  power  for 
good  in  the  community  and  state  and  was  always  found  working  on 
the  side  of  right.  He  was  a  valued  member  of  the  New  Hampshire 
Weekly  Publishers'  association  and  attended  its  last  meeting  in  Bos- 
ton in  January.  His  cheery  word  of  advice,  pleasant  smile  and  cordial 
greeting  will  be  sadly  missed  at  these  gatherings  in  the  future.  He 
has  answered  his  last  roll  call  but  the  memory  of  his  good  deeds  will 
never  die." — Pittsfield  Valley  Times. 

"Probably  there  is  not  a  newspaper  man  in  the  State  but  was  gen- 
uinely saddened  at  the  death  of  Oapt.  Richard  W.  Musgrove,  the  dean 
of  the  newspaper  fraternity,  editor  of  the  Bristol  Enterprise  and  a 
grand  man.  Capt.  Musgrove  held  a  warm  place  in  the  esteem  of  his 
fellow  publishers,  and  his  memory  will  long  live  with  them." — Coos 
County  Democrat. 

"Though  in  his  bearing  and  manners  a  dignified  gentleman  of  the 
old  school,  he  was  thoroughly  modern  and  wide-awake  in  his  ideas 
and  beliefs.  A  most  delightful  man.  he  was  to  meet.  The  writer  has 
had  many  a  pleasant  chat  with  him  at  various  press  club  meetings  and 
gained  a  high  regard  for  his  honest,  manly  nature,  and  his  frank,  sin- 
cere open-mindedness.  No  newspaper  man  was  held  in  higher  esteem 
by  the  members  of  the  fraternity  than  he;  no  one  will  be  more  sadly 
missed  than  he  from  the  meetings  of  the  New  Hampshire  Weekly  Pub- 
lishers' association." — Somersworth  Free  Press. 

"Much  has  been  written  and  said,  and  in  part  rightly,  of  the  de- 
moralizing influence  of  war,  of  the  young  men  whose  lives  are  blighted, 
although  they  do  not  fall  upon  the  field  of  battle  or  die  in  hospital. 
Undoubtedly  there  was  such  wreckage  as  an  inevitable  accomplish- 
ment of  the  great  Civil  War.  But  on  the  other  hand  that  war  was  a 
school  in  which  thousands  of  young  men  developed  the  best  that  was 
in  them.  McKinley  was  a  conspicuous  example,  but  there  were  thou- 
sands and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  other  young  men,  who,  although 
they  did  not  become  Presidents,  showed  throughout  long  and  useful 
lives   as  good  citizens,  the  effect  of  those  years  of  discipline. 

"Of  these  was  Richard  W.  Musgrove,  whose  peaceful  death  in  his 
home  in  Bristol  has  just  been  reported He  had  not  been 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-FIVE 


'spoiled'  by  the  war.  In  time  he  founded  the  Bristol  Enterprise  and,  as 
the  years  went  by,  made  it  a  powerful  influence  for  good  in  his  com- 
munity and  in  his  section  of  the  state.  Unassuming  but  dignified,  con- 
sistently religious  and  sincerely  conscientious,  he  did  all  that  he  could 
to  make  the  world  better  and  happier.  Strong  in  his  convictions,  he 
was  neither  partisan  in  his  politics  nor  bigoted  in  his  faith.  He  filled 
with  fidelity  many  positions  of  responsibility,  was  in  all  respects  a 
worthy  member  of  the  community — an  example  of  the  splendid  type 
of  volunteer  soldiers  who  returned  from  the  Civil  War  to  take  their 
part  in  the  activities  of  peace." — Manchester  Union. 

"There  comes  a  united  expression  of  sorrow  from  the  newspapers 
of  the  state  at  the  announcement  of  the  death  of  our  fellow  publisher 
and  friend.  ...  A  powerful  pen,  a  rusting  sword  and  a  striking 
personality  have  been  laid  away;  each,  having  served  a  loyal  and  faith- 
ful mission  in  their  sphere  of  service,  has  gained  a  lasting  memory 
among  those  who  knew  them  best." — Farmington  News. 

"It  was  with  the  keenest  sorrow  that  the  newspaper  men  of  New 
Hampshire  heard  of  the  sudden  death  of  Capt.  R.  W.  Musgrove  of 
Bristol  last  week,  on  the  very  day  that  his  paper,  the  Bristol  Enter- 
prise, went  to  press.  Capt.  Musgrove  was  the  oldest  man  actively 
engaged  in  editorial  duties  in  the  state,  but  he  was  young  in  spirit  and 
none  enjoyed  the  outings  of  the  N.  H.  Weekly  Publishers'  association 
more  than  he.  He  was  a  staunch  defender  of  honesty,  fairness  and 
justice  in  politics,  an  able  editor  and  a  true  friend.  He  was  a  gallant 
soldier  during  the  Civil  War  and  no  less  an  unselfish  patriot  in  later 
years.     He  will  be  greatly  missed." — Rochester  Courier. 

"In  June,  1878,  he  founded  the  Enterprise,  which  under  his  guiding 
hand  has  since  been  among  the  most  enterprising  and  influential  weekly 
publications  in  the  state.  Honors  fell  thickly  upon  Mr.  Musgrove's 
shoulders,  and  he  bore  them  gracefully  and  filled  the  numerous  posi- 
tions for  which  he  was  selected,  competently.  Captain  Musgrove  was 
a  valiant  soldier,  a  useful  citizen,  and  belonged  to  the  old  school  of  gen- 
tlemen. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Musgrove  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  fixtures 
at  the  gatherings  of  the  New  Hampshire  Weekly  Publishers'  associa- 
tion, and  the  presence  of  Mr.  Musgrove  will  be  keenly  missed  in  the 
future.  The  sympathy  of  the  association  as  a  unit  will  go  to  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove in  the  loss  of  her  devoted  companion." — Republican  Champion. 

"For  his  kindly  nature  and  loyalty  to  the  true  he  will  be  missed  by 
a  state-wide  circle  of  acquaintances." — Granite  State  Free  Press. 

PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-SIX 


JAMES  MUSGROVE 

But  little  is  known  of  the  early  life  of  James  Musgrove,  father  of 
the  late  Capt.  Musgrove.  He  was  born  in  London,  Eng.,  Dec.  13,  1798, 
and  was  probably  not  over  six  years  old  when  his  father,  James,  and 
Uncle  John  went  to  Calcutta,  India,  as  custom  house  officers  of  the  East 
India  company,  and  young  James  was  left  to  the  care  of  his  mother.  Of 
school  privileges  he  had  but  few,  and  for  some  reason  there  was  little 
sympathy  between  him  and  his  mother.  He  had,  however,  an  "Aunt 
Fox,"  who  took  an  interest  in  him,  and  from  her  he  learned  something 
of  his  family  connections.  If  we  recall  the  story  correctly,  he  also 
learned  much  from  a  nurse  after  he  had  secured  for  her  a  generous 
amount  of  snuff. 

At  the  age  of  eight  years  he  enlisted  in  the  British  navy  for  life,  and 
in  the  capacity  of  a  cabin  boy  he  traveled  to  many  parts  of  the  world, 
his  vessel  taking  part  in  the  War  of  1812  with  the  United  States,  and  he 
was  a  prisoner  of  war  at  Philadelphia  during  the  struggle.  With  his 
enlistment  ended  his  school  days,  but  tracts  and  other  reading  fell  into 
his  hands,  besides  his  Bible,  and  he  devoted  his  spare  moments  to  im- 
proving his  mind.  As  he  grew  older  he  began  to  realize  the  life  of 
drudgery  and  toil  that  lay  before  him,  with  no  chance  to  rise,  and  but 
little  opportunity  to  improve  his  mind.  The  only  hope  before  him  was 
to  desert  the  service,  and  this  he  felt  justified  in  doing,  considering  his 
extreme  youth  when  he  enlisted.  When  he  came  to  this  conclusion  he 
was  about  16  years  of  age  and  an  opportunity  soon  presented  itself,  of 
which  he  took  advantage.  His  ship  was  at  St.  John,  N.  B.,  and  he  was 
on  shore  leave  when  he  heard  the  ship's  bell  call  everyone  on  board. 
He  knew  this  meant  that  the  ship  was  about  to  leave  port,  and  a  sudden 
impulse  seized  him.  Now  was  his  opportunity.  Without  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  started  to  run  in  the  opposite  direction.  Such  was  his 
eagerness  that,  while  looking  back  for  imaginary  pursuers,  he  ran  against 
a  meeting-house  instead  of  keeping  the  road. 

This  was  on  the  afternoon  of  Christmas  day,  but  he  at  once  took  the 
first  road  that  led  to  the  country  and  trudged  on  till  night  overtook  him. 
By  this  time  he  had  reached  a  distance  from  town  where  houses  were 
few,  and  he  had  forded  one  stream  so  that  his  clothes  were  wet  nearly 
through.  In  this  condition  he  was  about  to  lie  down  on  the  snow  to 
seek  some  rest  when  he  saw  a  light  in  the  distance.  Encouraged  to 
hope  he  might  find  hospitality  there,  he  pressed  on,  and  presented  him- 
self at  the  door  of  a  farmer.     The  family  was  enjoying  its  Christmas 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-SEVEN 


plum  pudding,  after  the  English  fashion,  but  the  lady  of  the  house 
answered  his  call  and,  in  response  to  his  request  for  a  night's  lodging, 
invited  him  in. 

Then  occurred  an  earnest  conversation  between  the  lady  and  her 
husband.  "This  fellow  may  be  a  deserter  from  some  ship,"  said  he, 
"and  if  we  harbor  him  we  may  get  ourselves  into  trouble."  Finally  they 
asked  him  squarely  who  he  was,  and  why  he  was  there  at  that  time  of 
night,  when  he  made  bold  to  tell  them  all.  The  lady  said,  after  hearing 
his  story,  that  deserter  or  no  deserter  she  was  not  going  to  turn  him  out 
doors  that  cold  night.  The  man,  with  downcast  face,  shook  his  head 
and  said,  "This  may  be  bad  business  for  us,"  and  then  moved  off  to  join 
the  festivities  of  the  occasion,  while  the  lady  made  haste  to  make  a  place 
for  him  at  the  table. 

The  morning  dawned,  and  after  breakfast  his  case  was  again  dis- 
cussed. "Well,"  said  the  wife,  "his  ship  has  gone  and  what  good  will  it 
do  to  turn  him  out  now?"  and  he,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  re- 
mained. 

How  long  he  stayed  there  is  not  known,  but  some  days,  if  not 
weeks;  and  then  he  returned  to  St.  John  to  seek  employment.  Here  he 
engaged  himself  to  a  merchant  tailor  to  learn  the  tailoring  trade.  The 
time  of  his  service  was  to  be,  as  usual  in  those  days,  seven  years. 

Here  life  was  more  tolerable  than  on  ship-board.  Though  the  lot 
of  the  apprentice  was  a  hard  one,  he  found  friends,  had  an  opportunity 
to  read  and  study  evenings  and  enjoyed  the  privileges  of  the  church. 

After  having  spent  four  years  at  his  new  situation,  he  learned  one 
day  that  the  vessel  from  which  he  deserted  was  soon  to  revisit  St.  John. 
In  this  dilemma,  he  consulted  his  Irish  fellow  workmen  and  women,  of 
whom  there  were  quite  a  number,  and  their  decision  was  that  he  must 
be  packed  off  to  Boston  at  once.  Passage  was  secured  in  a  vessel 
about  to  leave,  and  each  contributed  toward  a  stock  of  provisions  for  the 
trip,  and  he  started  for  Boston.  The  vessel  had  hardly  reached  the  out- 
side of  the  harbor,  when  an  adverse  wind  blew  it  back.  The  young 
man's  heart  grew  faint,  especially  when  he  heard  an  Irishman  remark, 
"And  faith,  there  must  be  a  Jonah  aboard." 

The  third  attempt  was  more  successful,  and  the  ship  sailed  on 
towards  Boston  with  every  prospect  of  a  fair  trip,  until  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  mouth  of  the  Penobscot  river  was  reached.  Here  the 
vessel  was  wrecked,  and  all  hands  took  to  the  boats  and  succeeded  in 
landing  on  the  coast  of  Maine. 

Young  James  was  now  without  money  to  prosecute  his  journey  and 
had  no  earthly  goods  except  the  clothes  he  wore.  He  therefore  resolved 
to  continue  his  journey  to  Boston  on  foot,  and  at  once  started  out.  But 
little  is  known  of  the  details  of  this  trip,  but  it  is  remembered  that  in 
later  life  he  often  spoke  of  its  hardships,  how  he  trudged  along  the 

PAGE    TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-EIGHT 


rough  roads  with  blistered  feet,  and  sought  shelter  at  farmhouses  or 
taverns  and  did  work  for  his  lodgings  and  meals.  He  loved  to  dwell 
on  the  kindness  of  one  landlady,  who  kept  him  a  week  or  more  and 
would  not  allow  him  to  resume  his  journey  till  his  feet  had  healed,  and 
then  assisted  him  to  some  better  shoes  and  stockings  than  those  he  had 
worn. 

On  reaching  Boston,  James  let  himself  to  a  tailor  and  served  three 
years  to  finish  his  trade,  and  must  have  worked  there  some  years  longer 
as  a  journeyman,  when  he  returned  to  London,  without  change  of  name 
or  attempting  to  cover  up  his  identity;  and  he  moved  again  in  the  same 
community  he  had  left  to  enter  the  navy. 

Here  he  was  thrown  into  the  company  of  Ann  Donker.  They  be- 
longed to  the  same  tract  society,  sick  society,  and  attended  the  same 
church.  They  were  married  Dec.  27,  1827,  in  Bethnal  Green  church. 
They  continued  to  reside  in  London  till  September,  1832,  when  they 
went  to  Boston  in  a  sailing  vessel,  arriving  in  October.  They  lived  in 
Hanover  St.,  Portland  Place,  about  nine  months,  while  Mr.  Musgrove 
worked  at  No.  13  Court  St.  Then  they  moved  to  Charlestown,  first 
living  on  High  street,  then  on  Bunker  Hill  in  "Cook's"  house  near  the 
nunnery,  and  were  living  there  when  the  nunnery  was  burned  by  the 
mob.  The  light  from  the  fire  shone  into  their  house.  After  three  years 
there,  they  moved  to  Lynn,  where  they  resided  when  the  panic  of  1837 
came.  At  that  time  he  was  thrown  out  of  work,  and  so  he  advertised 
in  the  Zion's  Herald  for  employment,  or  a  place  to  engage  in  business. 
Among  other  letters  was  one  from  Haverhill,  N.  H.,  and  one  from  N. 
S.  Berry,  Bristol.  James  Musgrove  walked  from  Lynn  to  Haverhill, 
N.  H.,  to  see  what  the  situation  there  was,  and  on  his  way  back  called 
at  Bristol.  Mr.  Berry  took  him  into  his  family  and  kept  him  a  few  days 
and  induced  him  to  locate  here. 

His  decision  made,  he  returned  on  foot  to  his  home,  having  first 
engaged  a  Mr.  Bowers  to  go  to  Lynn  with  him  with  his  team  and  bring 
his  family  and  household  effects  here.  When  he  reached  Bristol  with 
his  family,  they  were  entertained  at  Mr.  Berry's  home  till  they  got  set- 
tled in  the  Bradley  house,  where  they  lived  till  Mr.  Musgrove  built  a 
house  on  North  Main  St.,  which  still  remains  there. 

A  persistent  effort  was  made  to  drive  Mr.  Musgrove  from  town. 
Bristol  had  at  that  time  a  tailor  who  was  intemperate,  and  his  friends 
acted  as  a  unit,  apparently,  to  make  life  intolerable  for  the  new  tai- 
lor. His  sign  was  taken  down  and  thrown  into  the  river..  When  his 
house  was  nearing  completion  and  one  room  was  ready  to  use  as  a  shop, 
his  cow  was  shut  up  in  this  room  over  night.  A  number  of  men,  Dr. 
Rufus  Fellows,  Richard  Sawyer,  and  Levi  Bartlett,  were  leaders  in  this 
movement,  while   N.   S.   Berry,   Dr.    Eaton,    Reuben   Bean,   and   others 


PAGE   TWO    HUNDRED    TWENTY-NINE 


were  just  as  diligent  in  befriending  him.  Dr.  Eaton  vacated  the  base- 
ment of  his  house,  which  stood  where  the  Methodist  church  now 
stands,  and  located  his  office  in  one  of  his  living  rooms  to  make  room 
for  a  shop  for  the  new  tailor  when  no  one  else  could  let  him  in. 

But  these  things  wore  away  in  time,  and  an  upright  life,  fair  deal- 
ing, and  promptness  in  business  won  for  him  the  respect  and  esteem  of 
the  entire  community.  Though  not  educated  in  the  schools,  he  was  a 
well-bred  man,  and  in  European  history  was  considered  the  best  in- 
formed man  in  town. 


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