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Ten Years in the Ranks 
 U. S. Army 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTUS MEYERS 8 4 I - 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE STIRLING PRESS 
 1914 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1914 
 
 BY AUGUSTUS MEYERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
UBRARY 
 
 Preface 
 
 HpHIS narrative of ten years' service 
 *- in the United States Army on the 
 frontier and during the Civil War at an 
 early period of my life is written mainly 
 from memory after an interval of more 
 than half a century. I have endeavored 
 to describe in a simple manner the daily 
 life of a soldier in the ranks while serv- 
 ing in garrison, camp and field. 
 
 AUGUSTUS MEYERS. 
 
Table of Contents 
 
 PART I. Enlistment and Service on Governor's 
 
 Island, New York Harbor, in 1854 ... 1 
 
 PART II. At Carlisle Barracks, Pa., in 1855 . . 33 
 
 PART III. Journey from Carlisle to Fort Pierre 
 
 Nebraska, Territory, in 1855 49 
 
 PART IV. Fort Pierre and the Sioux Indians, 1855- 
 
 1856 71 
 
 PART V. Establishing Fort Lookout, 1856-1857 . 109 
 
 PART VI. Service at Fort Randall, Campaigning in 
 Kansas and Expiration of My Enlistment, 
 1857-1859 127 
 
 PART VII. Re-enlistment and Return to Frontiers, 1860 157 
 
 PART VIII. Service in Washington and Georgetown, 
 
 D. C., 1861-1862 177 
 
 PART IX. The Peninsula Campaign, 1862 .... 197 
 PART X. The Seven Days' Retreat, 1862 .... 225 
 
 PART XL Harrison's Landing to Fredericksburg, Va. 
 
 1862-1863 257 
 
 PART XII. Chancellorsville to Winter Camp of 1863- 
 
 1864 287 
 
 PART XIII. In Grant's Campaign, 1864 311 
 
 PART XIV. Departure from the Field and Last Days 
 
 of Service, 1865 341 
 
 REFLECTIONS 351 
 
 ADDENDA 353 
 
PART I. 
 
 ENLISTMENT AND SERVICE ON GOVERNOR'S ISLAND, NEW YORK 
 HARBOR, IN 1854. 
 
 ON March thirty-first, 1854, with the consent of my 
 widowed mother, I joined the United States Army. I 
 enlisted for a period of five years, as a musician in 
 the general service, at the recruiting office, at No. 115 Cedar 
 Street, New York City. My age was twelve years and nine 
 months. I was of slender build, but in good health and passed 
 the medical examination. After being sworn in at a notary's 
 office in Nassau Street, I was conducted by the recruiting 
 sergeant to the Governor's Island boat landing at the Battery ; 
 there he placed me in charge of Sergeant John Brown, cocks- 
 wain of the eight-oared barge manned by soldiers from the 
 Island. As this was then the only way for passengers to reach 
 the Island, I had to wait a long time for the next trip of the 
 barge, and it was late in the afternoon when we started. 
 
 There were but few passengers besides myself, a woman, 
 a civilian or two and a few soldiers returning from "pass," 
 more or less hilarious. After a struggle with the swift cur- 
 rents of the East River and considerable pitching and tossing, 
 we landed at the Island dock near the Guard House, where 
 I was taken in charge by a corporal of the guard who conducted 
 me to the South Battery on the east side of the Island opposite 
 Brooklyn, where the boys learning music were in quarters. 
 We reported to Sergeant Hanke, who was in charge of all the 
 non-commissioned officers and music boys in that battery. 
 
 Sergeant Hanke, after looking me over, asked whether I 
 desired to learn to be a drummer or a fifer. When I expressed 
 a preference for the former, he made some remarks about my 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 slim and very youthful appearance, and advised me to think 
 it over for a day or two. He called for Corporal Butler, who 
 conducted me to Room No. 1 on the ground floor, to the 
 south of the sally-port, of which he had charge. 
 
 On my entrance into the room there arose a cry of "Fresh 
 fish" from the boys who were present. They surrounded 
 me, asked my name, where I lived and many other questions 
 and demanded to know whether I had any money or tobacco, 
 taking no pains to hide their disappointment when I con- 
 fessed that I had neither. The corporal, who had left the 
 room, fortunately returned soon and relieved my embarrassing 
 position. He assigned me to "bunk" with the only boy in 
 the room who had no bedfellow or "bunkie." 
 
 The corporal's presence diverted the boys' attention from 
 me for a while and gave me time to examine my surroundings. 
 I found myself in a room with two windows that overlooked 
 the parade ground and one facing inward towards the interior 
 of South Battery. There were six iron double bedsteads in 
 the room and a single bedstead for the corporal in a corner 
 next to a window. The double bedsteads were made so that 
 one-half could be folded up over the other half when not in 
 use. This in a measure relieved during the day the very 
 crowded condition at night when all the beds were down. 
 The beds consisted of a bedsack stuffed with straw, which 
 was rolled up in the day time, and a pair of blankets, neatly 
 folded, laid on top. There were no sheets nor pillows for the 
 boys the corporal was the only one who enjoyed these 
 luxuries, and he had provided them himself. The boys slept 
 on the bedticks and covered themselves with their blankets 
 when it was cold, or used one of the blankets to lie on when 
 it was warm enough, folding up a jacket or some other piece 
 of clothing as a substitute for a pillow. 
 
 A wide shelf around the room above the beds provided 
 space for knapsacks, extra shoes, drums, fifes, and other ob- 
 jects, and on hooks under the shelf were hung the overcoats. 
 There was a coal fire burning in the grate. A few wooden 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 benches and a chair for the corporal in charge; this, with a 
 water pail and a tin cup on a shelf behind the door, com- 
 pleted the furniture of the room. 
 
 After a while I heard a drum beat, which was the first 
 call for "retreat." Ten minutes later, the "assembly" sounded 
 to form ranks on the parade outside of the sally-port. The 
 boys formed in two ranks, those who were proficient with 
 their drums and fifes on the right. The command, "parade 
 rest," was given by one of the sergeants, and the "retreat" 
 played by the musicians as prescribed in the regulations. 
 Then came the command, "Attention," and a roll call, at 
 which each boy present answered, "Here." Some special 
 orders were read and then at the command, "Break ranks, 
 march," the boys rushed back to their quarters, to deposit 
 their instruments and adjourn to the mess room in the base- 
 ment for supper. 
 
 I was directed to follow, and found the mess room large 
 enough to hold the entire company of boys at one sitting. 
 There were long pine tables and benches without backs, all 
 scrubbed clean. At each boy's place was a thin plate, con- 
 taining a small portion of stewed dried apples, a large stone 
 china bowl filled with black coffee (sweetened but without 
 milk) and a slice of bread about four ounces in weight. There 
 were iron spoons, knives and forks, and a few dishes on the 
 table containing pepper and salt. 
 
 I asked one of the boys if they had the same kind of a 
 supper every day, and was informed that sometimes they got 
 molasses in place of the dried apples. As the boys finished 
 their meager supper they left the mess room without any 
 formality and returned to their quarters or went out to have 
 a smoke in some place unobserved. I went back to my quarters 
 and sat on a bench, chatting with some of the boys, who 
 told me many things about their daily duties and the treat- 
 ment they received. They all wished to leave the Island, and 
 hoped to be sent soon to join a regiment somewhere. Some 
 were reading books by the feeble tallow candle light, some 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 played checkers on home-made checker boards, or amused 
 themselves with other games. 
 
 Thus passed the evening until nine o'clock when the call 
 for "Tattoo" sounded. There was considerably more music 
 than at "Retreat," otherwise it was the same. There was 
 another roll call and dismissal to quarters, where the beds 
 were let down and the blankets spread. With a little sky- 
 larking, the boys undressed and lay down. The orderly covered 
 the fire in the grate with ashes, "Taps" were sounded by the 
 drummer detailed for that purpose, lights were extinguished, 
 and all were supposed to be silent. But there was whispering 
 and smothered laughing, which ceased only after some vigor- 
 ous language and threats of reporting by the corporal. 
 
 I lay down alongside of my strange bedfellow, who kindly 
 shared his blanket with me, my head pillowed on my jacket. 
 There was a glimmering light from the fireplace, by which I 
 could make out the forms of my companions and that of 
 the corporal stretched out on his more comfortable bed in the 
 corner. Soon all seemed to be asleep except myself. I re- 
 mained awake a long time, thinking of the circumstances that 
 had brought me here, the strange company I was sharing, and 
 wondering what my future would be. At last, weary with the 
 day's unusual experiences and excitements, I also fell asleep. 
 And thus ended my first day as a soldier in the United States 
 Army. 
 
 I was awakened next morning at daylight by a drummer 
 beating the first call for "Reveille," and the corporal's voice 
 shouting, "Get up ! you lazy fellows," to some who were slow 
 to respond. The boys, who slept in their underclothing, 
 hastily put on their pants, stockings and shoes. Then each 
 grabbed a tin wash basin from its hook in the hall, went out 
 of doors to a pump and filled the basin, which he carried into 
 the hall, and, placing it on a bench, performed his ablutions, 
 drying himself on a roller towel. In the warm season this 
 performance took place out of doors. It was a cold, raw morn- 
 
 4 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing, and it made me shiver as I followed the others outside ; but 
 I concealed my distress to avoid being laughed at. 
 
 We finished dressing, and soon heard the drum beat the 
 "Assembly/* and the corporal's call to "Turn out and fall in." 
 Ranks were formed, as at "Retreat" and "Tattoo," and the 
 roll was called. The fifers and drummers played the "Reveille," 
 which was a much longer performance than either "Retreat" 
 or "Tattoo." It consisted of perhaps a half dozen tunes, 
 commencing with a piece called "Three Camps," then "Slow 
 Scotch," "Austrian," "Dutch," "Quick Scotch," 'Hessian," etc. 
 Some of these pieces were played in slow time and others in 
 quick time; they and the regular calls were the same as were 
 used at the time of the American Revolution and had never 
 been materially changed since. 
 
 Immediately after we were dismissed, we went to break- 
 fast which consisted of a small piece of boiled salt pork 
 cold a piece of bread and a large bowl of black coffee. 
 There was also some grease in a dish, saved from the boiling 
 of the pork, which some of the boys spread on their bread 
 as a substitute for butter, seasoning it with pepper and salt. 
 
 Soon after breakfast "Doctor's Call" sounded, and those 
 who felt unwell were conducted to the hospital to be examined 
 by the surgeon. The boys now became busy making up their 
 beds, cleaning their shoes, brushing their clothes and polish- 
 ing their brass buttons with the aid of a brush and what was 
 called a "button stick." Some pipe-clayed or chalked the 
 white braid on their jackets. The room orderly, who was 
 changed daily, swept the floor, replenished the fire and every- 
 thing in the room was put in order for the daily inspection 
 made by Sergeant Hanke. 
 
 At eight o'clock came the call to "fall in" for guard mount- 
 ing, ranks were formed and after a critical inspection as to 
 cleanliness by the sergeant, the company marched to the main 
 parade ground in the center of the Island. About the same 
 time we heard a band playing as it left the main garrison 
 followed by the guard detail for the day. The lines were 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 formed, the adjutant and the officer of the day took their 
 places. Then the arms, accoutrements and clothing were in- 
 spected. An orderly for the commanding officer was selected 
 from the guard and one from the boys for the adjutant. 
 
 The entire interesting ceremony of the Guard Mount was 
 performed according to regulation, the band playing at in- 
 tervals. The guard passed in review, marched off to their 
 station and relieved the old guard. The boys were marched 
 back to the South Battery where, shortly after their arrival, 
 a call for "School" sounded at nine o'clock. As I was in 
 citizen's clothing I did not have to take part in any formation 
 of ranks. I was simply a spectator until I was uniformed. 
 
 At eleven o'clock school was over and practice on the fife 
 and drum continued until noon. The drummers, twenty-five 
 or more in number, went outside and made a great racket 
 under the east wall of the South Battery, which could be 
 heard on the other side of Butter Milk Channel in Brooklyn. 
 They were in charge of their instructor, Sergeant Moore, who 
 was called the drum major and had Corporal Butler as an 
 assistant. I watched the boys practicing and noted how diffi- 
 cult it seemed to be for some to hold the drum-sticks properly 
 and beat the first exercise, called "Mammy-Daddy," without 
 hitting the rim of the drum as often as the drum-head, which 
 would bring down upon them a reprimand from the instructor, 
 or in some cases a rap across the knuckles for some persistently 
 awkward boy. When I took note of the exceedingly large and 
 heavy drums used in the service at that time, which the drum- 
 mers were obliged to carry, I resolved to become a fifer, as I 
 considered it more genteel and a step towards acquiring some 
 knowledge of music. 
 
 While the drummers were practicing outside of the Battery, 
 Sergeant Hanke, the fife-major, and a corporal were instruct- 
 ing an equal number of fifers in the school room that was filled 
 with a shrill din as each tried to play a different tune. 
 
 At noon musical instruction ceased, and we went to the 
 mess room for dinner. The menu consisted of a bowl of rice 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 soup containing some desiccated vegetables, a small piece of 
 boiled beef and the usual piece of bread. I was told that about 
 three times a week there was bean soup served with boiled 
 salt pork or bacon and, at rare intervals, one or two boiled 
 potatoes. 
 
 After dinner there was nothing to do until two o'clock 
 when school opened again for two hours. At four o'clock 
 in the afternoon drill commenced. The boys were instructed 
 in what was called the "School of the Soldier" facing, march- 
 ing, etc. They drilled singly at first, then in squads and finally 
 by company according to Scott's Tactics, always without arms. 
 Drill was over at five o'clock when there was a rest until "Re- 
 treat." This was the daily routine of duties, except on Satur- 
 days, when they ceased at noon. 
 
 On Saturday afternoons some of the boys were detailed in 
 turn to scrub and holy-stone the floor of our quarters and the 
 benches, which consumed some hours. The remainder of the 
 boys were free to do as they pleased. 
 
 On Sundays we attended guard mounting at eight in the 
 morning and at ten-thirty we marched in a body to the Epis- 
 copal Chapel, a short distance from our quarters. The chapel 
 was a frame structure, seating about two hundred besides the 
 music boys. The services were attended by some of the offi- 
 cers and their families, soldiers' wives and their children and 
 such of the soldiers and recruits as wished to attend. There 
 was no regular post chaplain ; I do not think there were any in 
 the army at this time. A minister from New York or Brook- 
 lyn conducted the services. I do not remember whether any 
 collections were taken up if there were I am sure it was 
 fruitless so far as the boys were concerned, unless the Sunday 
 immediately succeeded a pay day. 
 
 The interior of the chapel was very plain, only one aisle 
 had cushioned seats and they were not for our use. There 
 was a small organ and a few wooden tablets were hung on the 
 walls. One of them was much larger than the others. It 
 commemorated the wreck of the steamer San Francisco, bound 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 for California, and the drowning of a number of soldiers and 
 music boys, whose names were on the tablet. This always in- 
 terested me, and if the sermon was dull or I felt sleepy, I 
 would read it over and over again until I could repeat all the 
 names by heart. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon we were free to roam about the island 
 as we pleased, until about sun-down when, if the weather 
 permitted, we had "dress parade" on the main parade ground. 
 This was a more elaborate ceremony than guard mounting. 
 It was always interesting to me and I liked to attend it. The 
 post band turned out and all the armed soldiers on the island 
 were present as well as our "Field Music Battalion." We 
 made a fine show, and sometimes we had a few spectators 
 who came from the city in row boats. Once in every two 
 months we had muster and general inspection by the com- 
 manding officer of the post, who called the roll and looked 
 over the arms, accoutrements, clothing and quarters. For this 
 inspection we were obliged to appear on parade in full march- 
 ing order, our knapsacks packed and bulging with our spare 
 clothing. Muster was a preliminary to pay day, an event 
 always welcomed. 
 
 On my second day on the island I was taken to the quarter- 
 master's store house to draw the first installment of my yearly 
 clothing allowance. There were issued to me, one blanket, 
 one great coat, two fatigue jackets, two pairs of trousers, two 
 pairs of white flannel shirts, two pairs of Canton flannel 
 drawers, two pairs of woolen stockings, two pairs of shoes, 
 one forage cap and one leather stock, also a knapsack, a 
 haversack and a canteen. 
 
 The blanket was coarse and heavy; it weighed five pounds 
 and measured seven by five and a half feet. It was grayish 
 brown in color and had "U. S." in four inch black letters 
 worked in the centre. The overcoat as well as the trousers 
 and jacket, were of coarse sky-blue cloth. The overcoat was 
 single breasted and had a cape reaching down to the elbows ; 
 there was a row of brass buttons on the breast and on the 
 
 8 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 cape and some more on the coat tails. The jacket came to 
 the hips, had a standing collar, an inside breast pocket, a row 
 of brass buttons down the front and a few on the sleeves. 
 The shoes were coarse looking with broad toes and heels and 
 leather thongs, but they were good serviceable marching shoes. 
 The trousers were plain without stripes and had two pockets. 
 There were no waistcoats issued. The forage or fatigue cap 
 was a heavy, clumsy looking affair, made of thick dark blue 
 cloth. It had a large overhanging crown with a welt, a chin- 
 strap with a brass button on each side and a leather visor. 
 
 The most objectionable part of the whole uniform was the 
 leather stock or "dog collar," as we called it, intended to serve 
 as a cravat and keep the soldier's chin elevated. It was a strip 
 of stiff black shoe leather about two and one-half inches high 
 and arranged to fasten at the back of the neck with a leather 
 thong. It was torture to wear it in hot weather, but we found 
 means to modify the annoyance by reducing the height of the 
 stock and shaving down the thickness of the leather until it 
 became soft and pliable. 
 
 As the soldiers' clothing was made up in men's sizes only, 
 there were none to fit the boys. I believe there were about 
 six different sizes in shoes and three or four in clothing. The 
 smallest size in clothing, No. 1, was issued to me, and I was 
 sent to the post tailor. He took my measure and altered the 
 great coat, jackets and trousers. He also put some white 
 braid on the collar and sleeves of one of my jackets. The 
 cost of these alterations were deducted from my first pay due. 
 It was moderate enough, for the tailor's price as well as those 
 of the laundress and the sutler were fixed by the Post Council 
 of Administration. With the shirts and drawers I was obliged 
 to get along without alterations, voluminous though they were. 
 The shoes were too large for me also, but the thick woolen 
 socks helped to fill them. No dress coats were furnished to 
 the boys while they were on the Island. We only got those 
 after joining a regiment. 
 
 9 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 In about a week my clothes were ready. I arrayed myself 
 in my new sky-blue uniform, experiencing a boy's pleasure 
 in a new suit and some pride in what I considered my fine 
 soldierly appearance. We were not allowed to keep any citi- 
 zen's clothing, so I sold my clothes to a Hebrew "Old Go' 
 Man" who often visited the island for that purpose. He paid 
 me a dollar for them, the possession of which made me quite 
 popular with a few of the boys who showed me where we 
 could buy pies and ginger-pop at the sutler's store. 
 
 On the third day after my arrival, I was ordered to com- 
 mence attending school and to learn music. The school was 
 in a room within the South Battery, which was much too small 
 for the attendance. There were some pine desks and benches, 
 a blackboard, desks and chairs for two teachers and some 
 shelves. We were divided into several classes and were in- 
 structed in three R's by Sergeant Evans who taught the older 
 boys and by Corporal Washburn who had charge of the 
 younger ones. Each of the teachers had a rattan, for it re- 
 quired more than patience on their part to keep the unruly 
 element quiet. I think both the sergeant and the corporal 
 were very forbearing men. They were excused from all 
 other duties and paraded at muster only, receiving a mere pit- 
 tance of extra pay from the post fund. 
 
 Every month Sergeant Evans read to us the hundred and 
 one Articles of War from the Army Regulations, wherein 
 punishments were prescribed for all imaginable offenses, the 
 ninety-ninth article covering everything else that might have 
 been missed in the preceding articles so long as the offense was 
 "to the prejudice of good order and military discipline." I 
 noticed later that there were more charges and trials for "vio- 
 lation of the ninety-ninth article of war" than for any other. 
 It seemed to fit nearly every case. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the two hour morning session of the school 
 was over. The drummers who were nicknamed "sheepskin fid- 
 dlers," left the school room for an hour's practice, the fifers, 
 called "straw blowers," by the drummers, had their instru- 
 
 10 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ments with them and remained in the school room. They got 
 out their notes, and as soon as Sergeant Hanke and his as- 
 sistant entered, commenced to practise, producing a terrific 
 racket with their differing tunes. I was handed a "B" fife, 
 the kind that was used at that time, and was shown how to 
 hold it and place my fingers over the holes and my lips over 
 the embouchure. I found it difficult to make a sound at first, 
 but after a time I managed to produce some noise. I struggled 
 with the gamut for a week or more and spent another in try- 
 ing to play a bar or two of music correctly. After that I got 
 along faster and commenced to learn some of the more simple 
 calls and to understand the meaning of the notes in my music 
 book. In about two months I had made sufficient progress 
 to take my part in playing the reveille, retreat and tattoo. 
 After that, I learned to play marches and other pieces. In 
 the meantime, I had also made progress in drill and was con- 
 sidered sufficiently proficient at the end of three months to 
 take part in parades and all other duties. 
 
 During the course of my musical instruction, I found the 
 corporal instructor, whose name I do not recall, a rather im- 
 patient man very much given to scolding. Sergeant Hanke 
 was more kindly, but he had a habit of taking a boy's fife out 
 of his hands and playing part of the piece for him to show 
 him how it should be done. As he was an inveterate tobacco- 
 chewer this was very disagreeable. Wiping the fife on the 
 sleeve of the jacket did not remove the strong odor. In my 
 case I used soap and water as soon as I had the opportunity 
 to do so. 
 
 I was obliged to submit to the customary "hazing," inflicted 
 on new arrivals. I had to do various foolish stunts such as 
 innocently asking Sergeant Moore for a pair of knapsack 
 screws. He very promptly chased me out of his room. But 
 the worst was what the boys named a "blanket court martial." 
 This was performed in the quarters, a blanket was spread 
 upon the floor, the victim was brought into the room blind- 
 folded and placed standing upon the blanket by his guards. He 
 
 11 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was accused of a number of crimes such as stealing one of 
 the heavy guns, swimming to Brooklyn with it and selling it 
 for junk, and other ridiculous things. 
 
 Finally he was asked by the president of the court if he was 
 guilty, and upon his reply "No!" the president said, "Then 
 what are you standing there for?" 
 
 This was the signal for jerking away the blanket from under 
 his feet, tumbling him to the floor. It was both rough and 
 dangerous and I was sore after it. 
 
 I also had to have a few fights with some of the boys. These 
 usually took place under the east wall of the Battery and were 
 witnessed by a number of spectators. Such little affairs were 
 not serious ; the combatants usually had a rough and tumble 
 scrap and the only damage I ever received was a bloody nose 
 and a few scratches. Some of the older boys, however, oc- 
 casionally had regular fist fights according to rules and had 
 scouts out to give warning at the approach of any officer. 
 Fighting was forbidden and the participants liable to be 
 severely punished. After a time other "fresh fish" arrived and 
 I ceased to be a novelty. I was then left at peace to pursue 
 the regular course of events. 
 
 The greater part of the fifty or more music boys on the 
 island at this time were from New York City like myself ; the 
 rest were from cities and small towns in adjoining states. 
 There were half a dozen farmer's boys, mostly from Con- 
 necticut and the interior counties of New York State. A few 
 of the boys were about my age, but most of them were from 
 fifteen to eighteen or nineteen years old. None were enlisted 
 without the consent of their parents or guardians whose in- 
 ability to support them, no doubt, caused the greater part of 
 them to join the army. 
 
 Some of them, however, seemed to have left good homes, 
 or at least had prosperous looking visitors who brought them 
 nice things to eat or gave them money. Poorly dressed women 
 also appeared, mothers, who took their boys to some retired 
 spot and had a cry over them. There was a very nice, genteel 
 
 12 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 boy a year or two older than I, whose father owned a hotel 
 on Broadway near Bleecker Street, in New York. I won- 
 dered why he left home to enlist. He and I became good 
 friends and served in the same regiment later on, but he was 
 always reticent on that point. By far the greater part of the 
 boys were native born, but largely of foreign parentage, the 
 Irish predominating. 
 
 With the exception of a dozen or so who were rather "hard 
 cases" and boasted of it, and who formed a clique by them- 
 selves, the boys, I always thought, would compare quite 
 favorably as regards morals and good behavior with an equal 
 number of boys of even age at some private school. Discipline 
 was of course stricter with us and punishment more severe. 
 For minor offenses we got a few whacks over the shoulders 
 with a rattan in the hands of one of the non-commissioned of- 
 ficers, confinement to quarters, or deprivation of passes to the 
 city. The most frequent punishment of all was to "walk the 
 ring," but this was inflicted only by order of the adjutant, who 
 was the officer in command of the musicians. He could also 
 confine an offender in a cell for twenty- four hours in the 
 guard house without formal charges. 
 
 The ring was in front of the guard house under the observa- 
 tion of the sentinel of Post No. 1, who had orders to keep the 
 culprits moving. They were required to walk around in a well 
 beaten circular track of about thirty feet in diameter, some- 
 times two or three at one time. They had to attend to their 
 duties and walk the ring during recreation time in the after- 
 noon and from retreat to tattoo in the evening. This punish- 
 ment might last anywhere from one day to a week or more at 
 a stretch. Graver offenses were tried by a garrison court mar- 
 tial whose findings were submitted to a higher authority for 
 revision or approval. 
 
 The punishments of a garrison court martial were limited to 
 thirty days' confinement in the guard house, part of it, perhaps, 
 solitary confinement on bread and water, or the forfeiture of a 
 month's pay and allowances. Very serious offenses were tried 
 
 13 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 before a general court martial which had power to sentence the 
 prisoner to almost any kind of punishment, including death, ac- 
 cording to "Articles of War." Their proceedings were re- 
 viewed, however, by the Judge Advocate at the War Depart- 
 ment in Washington, and some cases required the decision of 
 the President. There was also an intermediate court named a 
 regimental court martial which had somewhat larger powers 
 than a garrison court, but no such court convened at the island 
 during my stay there, as there was no regimental headquarters, 
 all the soldiers belonging to what was called the general service. 
 
 One day at a morning inspection for guard mounting, Ser- 
 geant Hanke noticed the end of a pipe stem protruding between 
 the buttons of my jacket. I had carelessly thrust it into the in- 
 side breast pocket when the call to "fall in" sounded. He pulled 
 it out and confiscated the pipe, remarking, "You will get a 
 month on the ring for this." I was greatly alarmed at this 
 threat of so severe a punishment and fully expected to receive 
 orders to report to the sergeant of the guard after school that 
 afternoon to be placed on the ring by him and commence my 
 endless march. When the order was not given I thought sure 
 it would some the next day, but it did not. It was a week be- 
 fore I felt safe and concluded that the sergeant had not re- 
 ported me. Only on one occasion did I receive any punish- 
 ment. I once threw a basin full of dirty water out of a win- 
 dow and inadvertently dashed it over Sergeant Moore, who was 
 passing. He saw me and immediately got his rattan and gave 
 me a good whipping. 
 
 Governor's Island in 1854 presented a very different appear- 
 ance from what it does in 1914. It was much smaller. Its 
 diameter was less than half a mile and there were but few 
 buildings on it. More than a hundred acres have been added 
 to it by filling in a part of the bay and a sea wall has been 
 built around the entire island. Many buildings have been 
 erected; trees, shrubbery and flowers have been planted and 
 walks laid out ; sewers have been put in ; water, gas and elec- 
 tricity provided and the island generally improved and beauti- 
 fied. 14 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Many of the venerable old buildings still remain, however, 
 as they existed during my time. Castle Williams, at the south- 
 west angle of the island, is a circular structure, pierced with 
 three tiers of embrasures. At its portal can still be read the in- 
 scription cut in the stone, "Commenced 1807, finished 1811." 
 It is built of brown stone, backed up with brick. The granite 
 parapet on top was erected shortly after Civil War, replacing 
 one of brown stone. As a work of defense it has long out- 
 lived its usefulness, but in 1854 there were still guns mounted 
 in the first tier of casemates which were considered formidable, 
 and others were mounted en barbette on the parapet. These 
 guns were used sometimes in firing a salute to foreign war- 
 ships in the harbor. 
 
 Northward from Castle Williams, near the northwest angle 
 of the island, was the ordnance building, then came the guard 
 house with its prison cells in the basement and the adjutant's 
 office above them. The quartermasters' and commissary stores, 
 the commanding officer's house and a few other houses for the 
 married officers of the higher grade were all on the north side 
 of the island. Next came the hospital on the east and near it, 
 but somewhat to the west, a row of small two-story buildings 
 partly used as the sutler's store and as quarters for some mar- 
 ried soldiers and their families. At the southeast corner of the 
 island was the South Battery, mounting a few guns. Some dis- 
 tance to the west was the chapel and next to it the graveyard, 
 in which some officers and a number of soldiers were buried, 
 most of whom had died of cholera and yellow fever which had 
 often visited the island. Beyond the graveyard was the post 
 garden, several acres in extent, in which all kinds of vegetables 
 were raised. West of the garden was the parade ground, ex- 
 tending to the garrison, and from the commanding officers' 
 house sloping gently to the shore line on the south. 
 
 Fort Jay, or Fort Columbus, as it was then called, was gener- 
 ally known as the "garrison." It is situated on the westerly 
 part of the island on raised ground a square-built, old style 
 fortress with a dry moat, portcullis, draw bridge, and ramparts. 
 
 15 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Guns are mounted en barbette on three of its sides. An artis- 
 tic and elaborate piece of sculpture over the portal, represent- 
 ing the various arms of the service, cut in brown stone, is still 
 in a fair state of preservation. Passing through the deep sally- 
 port, the interior is found to be quite roomy, having a sodded 
 parade ground with quarters surrounding it on four sides. The 
 buildings in the south were used as quarters for the unmarried 
 officers. On the east lived recruits, and on the west were the 
 quarters of a company of soldiers, about seventy-five strong, 
 who were officially called the Permanent Party. On the north 
 was the post band on one side of the sallyport and the non- 
 commissioned staff and some buglers on the other. There was 
 a smaller gate on the south leading into the moat and a sunken 
 way leading from there to the entrance to Castle Williams. 
 
 All of the buildings which I have described still exist except 
 a few of the officers' cottages on the north side of the island, 
 the sutler's row and the chapel which was destroyed by fire 
 and lately replaced on another site by a much larger and finer 
 building of cut stone, a gift of Trinity Church of New York. 
 The post-garden has disappeared and so has the graveyard with 
 its few monuments and many headstones. The remains were 
 disinterred and reburied elsewhere, and the site is now covered 
 with buildings. 
 
 Governor's Island was the principal recruiting depot in the 
 east, and in 1854 Major John T. Sprague of the Eighth U. S. 
 Infantry was in command. He was a West Point graduate, 
 who had joined the army in 1837 and had been breveted as a 
 Major during the Mexican War. Major Sprague was relieved 
 and ordered elsewhere before my departure from the island. 
 He was succeeded by Captain Mansfield Lovell, a dashing ar- 
 tillery officer, who later joined the confederate army and had 
 something to do with the surrender of New Orleans. A cap- 
 tain or two, an ordnance officer and six or eight lieutenants 
 from different branches of the service, were all detailed on de- 
 tached service away from their regiments to serve here as in- 
 structors of recruits. 
 
 16 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 A very fine military band was connected with this post un- 
 der the leadership of Bandmaster Bloomfield, who was a cele- 
 brated musician. There were two drummers in this band, 
 brothers, named Jack and Pete Vigo, who were considered to 
 be the best in the army. Later on both served in the band of 
 the regiment which I joined, Pete Vigo, in the meantime, hav- 
 ing married Bandmaster Bloomfield's daughter, who accom- 
 panied him to the frontiers. 
 
 The band played at guard mounting and dress parade, mus- 
 ters and general inspections. It also gave concerts on certain 
 summer days in front of the commanding officers' quarters. 
 Bandsmen had permission occasionally to play in New York 
 City, which was lucrative for them. Indeed they were very 
 much petted and pampered and enjoyed many privileges. They 
 received extra pay and had especial fine uniforms and instru- 
 ments, all of which had to be paid for out of the post fund. 
 
 The Permanent Party, also called Company "A," was a com- 
 pany of soldiers selected from the recruits for stature, phys- 
 ique and soldierly bearing. They were mostly tall men and, as 
 I imagine, must have borne some resemblance to the grena- 
 diers of Frederick the Great. They looked well on parade in 
 their striking uniforms dark blue coats with facings and sky- 
 blue trousers, white cross and waist belts, epaulettes and black 
 shakos with blue pompons and brass chin straps. Occasionally 
 some were sent away to serve with a regiment at their own re- 
 quest or as a punishment. The Permanent Party did all of the 
 guard duty that was required on the island, and guarded the 
 prisoners who did the scavenging. 
 
 Other troops on the island were the recruits, generally sev- 
 eral hundred of them, who were quartered in the garrison and 
 in the upper casemates of Castle Williams. From time to time 
 they were sent away in detachments of a hundred or more, 
 generally accompanied by some of the drummers and fifers, to 
 vacancies in regiments serving throughout the country. Offi- 
 cers were detailed to accompany these detachments to their 
 destinations. The non-commissioned officers were generally 
 
 17 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 selected from the most worthy and efficient of the recruits and 
 promoted to lance sergeants and lance corporals, a rank with 
 authority but without extra pay. Often a few re-enlisted old 
 soldiers, rejoining regiments on the frontiers, went with these 
 parties and helped to take charge of them. 
 
 The recruits were unarmed. Arms were furnished when 
 they joined their regiments, unless it became necessary to march 
 through a part of the Indian country to reach their destination. 
 In that case they were armed and accompanied by an escort of 
 experienced soldiers. These departures from the island were 
 always occasions of considerable military ceremony. The re- 
 cruits were escorted from the garrison to the wharf by the 
 post band and the Permanent Party. And when they had em- 
 barked on the steamboat and the lines were cast off, the band 
 would play, "The Girl I Left Behind Me," amid the parting 
 cheers of the spectators. 
 
 The final complement that made up the garrison of Gover- 
 nors Island were the music boys, designated as Company "B," 
 and stationed in the small South Battery. We were under spe- 
 cial command of the Post- Adjutant, but never saw him there 
 except on muster days. He troubled himself very little about 
 us, leaving the care and management of the fifty or sixty boys 
 to the two sergeants in charge. Sergeant Hanke, of whom I 
 have spoken before, was a Dane who had been for many years 
 in the United States service. He was of low stature, very cor- 
 pulent, with a large round florid face, and was bald, except for 
 a fringe of gray hair below the top of his ears. He had sharp 
 twinkling eyes and a strong voice. He was married but had no 
 children and lived in a couple of small rooms on the second 
 floor of the quarters. His Irish wife was his counterpart in 
 stature and corpulency. She generally wore a white cap and a 
 red skirt. That she had a fine brogue we knew from overhear- 
 ing her disputes with the sergeant. She had a loud voice and 
 was more than a match for the sergeant, whose English failed 
 him when he became excited. Sergeant Hanke, while a strict 
 disciplinarian, was not an unkindly man. He often listened 
 
 18 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 patiently to our complaints and forgave us for many minor 
 transgressions when we were brought before him. 
 
 Sergeant Moore was an Irishman and married. He kept 
 house with his wife and several children in some rooms on the 
 lower floor of our quarters. He also had served a long time in 
 the army. He was a tall thin man with iron gray hair, quick 
 tempered and not so well liked by the boys as Sergeant Hanke. 
 Both of these men remained in the service for more than sixty 
 years and were finally retired and pensioned by the govern- 
 ment. Sergeant Moore lived to be ninety-seven years old and 
 Hanke nearly as long. 
 
 Corporal Butler, the assistant instructor, was a young man 
 of medium size, with a fiery temper and a profusion of very 
 red hair and mustache, the greasing, waxing and combing of 
 which consumed much of his spare time. The other corporal, 
 who was assistant fife instructor, and whose name, unless mem- 
 ory fails me, was Pfaefle, was a tall and very good looking 
 young German of a more pleasant disposition. He spent much 
 time in "primping" himself and the boys called him "the dude." 
 I never learned what became of him in after years, but I did 
 learn that Corporal Butler remained in the service all his life 
 and died only recently at a military post at Sackett's Harbor, 
 N. Y., at an advanced age. Sergeant Evans and Corporal 
 Washburn, our school teachers, were both very fair men with 
 no peculiarities. Later on I believe they became citizen clerks 
 in the War Department at Washington. 
 
 With a couple of the older boys promoted to lance corporals, 
 who had charge of some rooms, this completed the list of non- 
 commissioned officers who had the immediate charge of the 
 boys and were responsible to the post adjutant, who cared very 
 little how things went. 
 
 It took but a short time for me to realize that the quan- 
 tity of food we received was very scanty for growing boys. 
 While we were not actually starved, we did not get enough to 
 eat and often felt hungry. We had a limited amount of credit 
 at the sutler's store, which was deducted from our pay. Much 
 
 19 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 of this we consumed in buying crackers and cheese or an occa- 
 sional piece of pie or cake to eke out our scanty food, the same- 
 ness of which often palled on us. In the summer months we 
 were given a few vegetables once or twice a week from the 
 post garden after the officers and their families had first re- 
 ceived all they wanted. The poor recruits never got any, al- 
 though they contributed their pro-rata share to the post fund, 
 while the officers were not obliged to contribute anything. 
 
 Had we received the entire ration allowed us, it would have 
 been sufficient and we could not have complained as to quan- 
 tity. The soldier's daily ration at this time consisted of six- 
 teen ounces of salt or fresh beef or twelve ounces of pork or 
 bacon, eighteen ounces of soft bread or flour, or one pound of 
 hard bread and the "small rations," as they were called, such 
 as coffee, sugar, beans, peas, rice, salt, vinegar, dessicated vege- 
 tables, soap and candles, which were sufficient, when used col- 
 lectively, for an entire company. The flour ration of eighteen 
 ounces, when baked into bread, will produce about one-third 
 more in weight of bread. Hence there was a saving of about 
 one-third on flour which was sold to increase the post fund. 
 But we boys never received eighteen ounces of bread per day, 
 and all of our other rations were also reduced. 
 
 A post fund, according to army regulations, was created by 
 a tax of ten cents per month to be paid by the sutler for every 
 officer or soldier stationed there, also from the savings on the 
 flour ration between eighteen ounces of flour and eighteen 
 ounces of bread at the post bakery. No saving is supposed to 
 be made on any other portion of the soldier's ration. The man- 
 agement of the fund was generally in the hands of three offi- 
 cers, one of whom acted as treasurer; they were called Post 
 Council of Administration and had power to fix a tariff of 
 prices for the sutler, laundresses, tailor, shoemaker, etc., and 
 the expenditure of the fund for other purposes approved by 
 the commanding officer. 
 
 At Governor's Island one of the largest expenses was the 
 band whose members were paid extra (according to their abil- 
 
 20 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ity) over and above their grade of soldier's pay. Their instru- 
 ments, which the Government did not furnish, had to be pur- 
 chased, as well as music and a showy uniform. Other ex- 
 penses were the post bakery, the post garden and school for 
 the boys. From all this the officers received the greater bene- 
 fit and yet they were not required by army regulations to con- 
 tribute to the fund. 
 
 When spring came, in pleasant weather I often sat on the 
 west shore of the island, which faced Battery Park in New 
 York, and watched the ferry boats and excursion steamers pass 
 close by, crowded with people who were bent on enjoying 
 themselves. This made me feel melancholy and homesick. 
 Sometimes, when alone, tears would come to my eyes in spite 
 of my efforts to restrain them. When the summer came, I felt 
 less lonely and forsaken. We played ball and other games dur- 
 ing our leisure hours and went in swimming very often on the 
 south shore of the island where there was a good gravelly 
 beach, interspersed with mossy rocks. 
 
 Early in June we received two months' pay. A private sol- 
 dier's pay at this time was but seven dollars per month, but 
 was raised by act of Congress to eleven dollars about six 
 months after I entered the service. The officers' pay was raised 
 also all along the line. The musician's pay was always one dol- 
 lar more per month than that of a private, and I was, therefore, 
 entitled to sixteen dollars for my two months' service; but 
 after the sutler's, tailor's, and laundresses' bills were deducted, 
 I had but a few dollars left. 
 
 Immediately after being paid the soldiers and some of the 
 boys started gambling with cards and dice in secluded places 
 all over the island, under trees, behind buildings and even in 
 the grave yard. I was pressingly invited to join in some of the 
 games but I refused as I had no inclination for playing. Gam- 
 bling was forbidden and the gamblers punished if caught. I 
 wished to get a pass to visit New York and did not care to take 
 any chances. I applied for a pass and got permission to be 
 
 21 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 absent from nine o'clock on a Saturday morning to Retreat at 
 sundown on Sunday. 
 
 I put on my best uniform, polished my shoes and buttons, 
 exhibited my pass to the guard on the dock and was rowed 
 over to the Battery in New York, whence I had departed two 
 and a half months before. I walked rapidly through Battery 
 Park and up Broadway towards my home. I was anxious to 
 see my mother from whom I had only heard by letter since my 
 departure. I had not gone far when I was jeered at by boys 
 and larger hoodlums and saluted with such questions as "Soger 
 will ye work?" and their replies of "No! First I'd sell me 
 shirt." I flushed with anger but could do nothing except to 
 hasten my steps and get away from my tormentors, only to 
 encounter others on my way home. Even respectable people 
 looked me over as though I was a freak or a curiosity of some 
 kind. 
 
 A soldier at that period was but little respected by civilians in 
 the east. Only the people on the Western frontiers appreciated 
 him and understood how much he did toward making the new 
 country a safe place for them to acquire homes and develop 
 the land. It required the lesson of the Civil War to teach the 
 east the value of soldiers and sailors. The soldier particularly 
 was looked upon as an individual too lazy to work for a living. 
 He had not been much in evidence since the Mexican War. The 
 entire U. S. Army contained less than twelve thousand men 
 scattered over a large territory. 
 
 When my pass expired I caught the boat for Governor's 
 Island, and reported for duty on time. I did not receive an- 
 other leave of absence for about three months. The cholera 
 broke out in New York and Brooklyn and soon made its ap- 
 pearance on Governor's Island, where it had been a frequent 
 visitor as well as the yellow fever. Passes were suspended ex 
 cept in urgent cases, and communication with the city restrict- 
 ed as much as possible. A few of the boys were attacked but 
 recovered. Some of the Permanent Party died of it, but the 
 recruits suffered most. A considerable number of them died 
 
 22 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and were buried in the island grave yard. The funeral march 
 was often heard and the report from the corporal's firing squad 
 of eight, who fired three rounds over the grave, was the last 
 farewell to the poor soldier, as no religious services were held. 
 
 I had formed a few friendships among the soldiers of the 
 Permanent Party, particularly with a man named Lovell, a 
 very tall, fine-looking soldier who later on became the drum- 
 major of my regiment. Another of my friends was a man 
 named Fisher, an estimable soldier. One evening Fisher sent 
 for me from the hospital where he was sick with the cholera. 
 I found the building crowded with cholera patients and others. 
 Fisher was suffering intensely but was conscious. He ex- 
 pressed a wish, in the presence of the nurses, that in case of 
 his death his trunk, keepsakes and money were to be given to 
 me. I left him after a while and next morning learned that he 
 had died during the night. 
 
 I got permission to attend his funeral, and the next day I 
 went to the hospital to claim my inheritance, but the hospital 
 steward, named Campbell, chased me away and for a long time 
 I blamed him unjustly for depriving me of the little legacy, for 
 his own benefit, as I supposed. He was an ill tempered man 
 not liked by the boys. But later on I learned that he was with- 
 in his rights in not allowing me to take anything. There is a 
 great deal of military red tape in disposing of a soldier's ef- 
 fects and I dropped the matter. Steward Campbell was shortly 
 after relieved by David Robinson, a kindly man, who at the 
 present time is still on the island, retired and living in a cottage 
 there. 
 
 The island, even when free from epidemics, was not a healthy 
 place. There were no sewers, the water was supplied from cis- 
 terns and a few wells. There was no gas and on dark nights 
 lanterns were carried. First sergeants of companies called the 
 roll at tattoo by their- aid. As the island had no sea wall and 
 was directly in line of the tide currents of the East River, 
 which it divided into two parts, much of the floating filth from 
 the city was deposited on its shore. Dead cats, dogs and other 
 
 23 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 small animals were washed on to the beach daily. Sometimes 
 a horse and, on a few occasions, a human body. Fruit of all 
 kinds, but all more or less decayed, great quantities of wood, 
 all sorts of boxes and cases, in fact anything that could float, 
 seemed to be cast upon the island's shore. A squad of prison- 
 ers under guard were busy all day long in "beach combing," 
 gathering up this filth and burning it. 
 
 One day, when passing along the south shore, I noticed a 
 curious looking object partly covered by rubbish. It was high 
 and dry up on the beach, where it must have lain for some days 
 exposed to the hoj: sun. It was very brown and very small, and 
 I thought it was a dead monkey or perhaps a mummy of some 
 kind. I called the attention of the prisoners' guard, who were 
 close by, to the object. They uncovered it and declared it to 
 be a new born infant. One of the prisoners carried it on a 
 shovel to the grave yard, only a few steps away, where he dug 
 a shallow hole in a corner of the fence and buried it. 
 
 Some parts of the shore were sandy, and at low tide I often 
 saw some of the hungry recruits gathering soft clams and eat- 
 ing them after boiling them in a rusty can, picked up along the 
 shore. They also ate much of the fruit cast up by the tide. All 
 this no doubt contributed to the greater mortality among them 
 during the prevalence of the cholera. Very few boys, I think, 
 ever touched any of the fruit. We were strictly cautioned 
 against it. 
 
 Changes made by boys being sent away to join regiments 
 made it possible for me to move to a room on the second floor 
 which was more cheerful and to have a more congenial bunkie, 
 whose name was William J. Milligan. He was a New York 
 boy, whose mother kept a millinery store on upper Broadway. 
 We became fast friends and remained so as long as he lived. 
 We were separated when he was sent to join the Sixth U. S. 
 Infantry, as a fifer, and I did not meet him again until we both 
 served in the same brigade in the Army of the Potomac, during 
 the Civil War. 
 
 One day orders were given to prepare for a grand inspection 
 
 24 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 of all the soldiers on the island by General Winfield Scott, who 
 was the Commander-in- Chief of the army. We were busy for 
 some days cleaning up for the great inspection. Finally the 
 day arrived, so did the general in his cocked hat, a gorgeous 
 uniform and splendid sword. He was very tall, large and dig- 
 nified. Despite his age he was erect and soldierly. He was ac- 
 companied by some of the officers of his staff, also in full unic 
 form. As he debarked, a salute of thirteen guns thundered 
 from Castle Williams. All the soldiers on the island, not on 
 other duty, were drawn up on the parade ground and the band 
 played "Hail to the Chief." For occasions of this sort we were 
 required to appear fully equipped and with knapsacks packed. 
 
 There was always a rivalry among us as to who could pack 
 his kit the neatest and show the fewest creases in the overcoat 
 when rolled up and strapped on top of the knapsack. In this 
 particular we never seemed to be able to equal the Permanent 
 Party, whose overcoats were faultlessly rolled. The usual 
 formula of a general inspection was carried through, as pre- 
 scribed in the regulations, ending up with opening ranks, un- 
 slinging and opening knapsacks and displaying our kits. The 
 General and his aides-de-camp, accompanied by the command- 
 ing officer and the adjutant, first inspected the band, then 
 passed through the boys' opened ranks without any comments 
 and on through the ranks of the Permanent Party, each of 
 whom stood like a statue at the position "order arms." An of- 
 ficer of the General's staff, remarking the immaculate rolling 
 of many of the overcoats, tapped one of them with the scab- 
 bard of his sword. It emitted a hollow sound. He asked the 
 soldier what it was, and the man explained that it was a dummy 
 made out of a piece of stove pipe covered with blue cloth. The 
 old General noticed the incident but merely smiled as did some 
 of the other officers. However, it proved to be the end of the 
 dummy overcoats on parade. 
 
 One summer's day several French ships of war arrived in 
 the harbor, opposite Governor's Island. They fired a national 
 salute which it was necessary to reply to, gun for gun, accord- 
 
 25 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing to custom. Unfortunately at that particular time there were 
 no artillery soldiers on the island, but a sergeant of the Perma- 
 nent Party was found who understood how to load and dis- 
 charge guns. He was furnished with a detail of infantry men 
 to assist him. Salutes were always fired from the first or 
 ground tier of guns at Castle Williams, about a dozen in num- 
 ber. When not in use the embrasures for these guns were 
 closed with wooden shutters which could be removed and taken 
 inside while firing. 
 
 The Sergeant ordered the shutters to be detached from their 
 fastenings and laid down flat in the openings. He then com- 
 menced firing, and at every discharge we saw the shutters be- 
 ing blown to splinters into the harbor, fortunately without dam- 
 age to any one. When all the guns in the tier had been dis- 
 charged the Sergeant and his inexperienced crew had to go 
 back to reload and fire them over again. This caused a long 
 gap in the completion of the salute, which should have been 
 fired continuously, and no doubt astonished our French visitors. 
 
 A day or two later on a Saturday afternoon the French ad- 
 miral, with some of his officers, accompanied by the post adju- 
 tant, came on an informal visit to the island. I was on the 
 scrubbing squad that day when they passed through the sally- 
 port of the South Battery, unannounced. I was the first boy 
 whom they encountered, hatless, barefooted, in shirt sleeves, 
 with my trousers rolled up to the knees and a broom in my 
 hands. I was startled, but stood to attention and came to a 
 salute, which was returned by the admiral. My few compan- 
 ions did the same. Most of the boys were out fishing, swim- 
 ming and playing games. The distinguished party remained 
 but a few minutes and did not enter the quarters. I think they 
 were not favorably impressed by our sloppy appearance. 
 
 Sometimes recruits deserted the island by arranging to have 
 a row boat appear on the shores at night or by swimming across 
 the Buttermilk Channel to Brooklyn in the night time when the 
 tide was right. If recaptured they were tried by a general 
 court martial and sentenced to severe punishments. There 
 
 26 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 were few desertions among the boys ; but two of them who 
 failed to return from leave of absence were caught after a 
 time. They were tried and sentenced to receive twenty-five 
 strokes with a rattan well applied to their "bare buttocks," so 
 the sentence read, and to be confined in the guard house at hard 
 labor for two months, also forfeit their pay for the same period. 
 
 We were turned out and formed in ranks on a spot near the 
 graveyard to witness the punishment of the poor fellows. 
 They were marched to the place under guard. The Adjutant 
 read the sentence of the court martial. Then one of the boys 
 was laid face down on a long bench and held by a member of 
 the guard at his head and another at his feet. His clothes 
 were removed sufficiently to expose his buttocks, and at the 
 adjutant's command, a corporal commenced to apply the rat- 
 tan, which left a red mark at every stroke and made the boy 
 squirm and groan and finally cry out with pain before the ad- 
 jutant cried "Halt" at the twenty-fifth blow. While the 
 blows were not inflicted with anything like full force, yet they 
 were cruel enough if only by their number. 
 
 The unfortunate second victim was obliged to witness his 
 comrade's punishment and then endure the same himself. Both 
 of the boys were about seventeen years of age and served out 
 their enlistment. One of them I met during the Civil War as 
 a lieutenant of a volunteer regiment. The trembling and sob- 
 bing boys were reconducted to the guard house, and we 
 marched back to quarters after this distressing scene. 
 
 The summer passed away, the cholera, both in the city and 
 on the island, was almost extinct. Leave of absence was again 
 granted and I went to the city a few times during the fall and 
 early winter. One morning I felt ill and reported at "doctor's 
 call." I was taken before the surgeon, who examined me and 
 ordered me to bed in the hospital, thinking, no doubt, that I 
 was about to have an attack of fever. I did not expect this and 
 hoped that I would simply be marked "sick in quarters" and 
 excused from duty. I was put to bed in a ward that contained 
 about eight beds occupied by soldiers with all sorts of ailments, 
 
 27 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 some of them very disagreeable. Some of the boys who had 
 been in the hospital had told me that tea and toast was served 
 there to the sick. I hankered for some of it, as I had not tasted 
 any for a long time. I got it twice a day and a little thin gruel, 
 but nothing else. On the third day, I begged to be let go. I was 
 disgusted with the hospital and its inmates. As no serious com- 
 plications had developed, I was sent back to quarters and ex- 
 cused from duty for a few days. 
 
 As the winter approached we were obliged to give up many 
 of our little outdoor diversions and confine ourselves more to 
 our crowded quarters. As there was no place indoors for 
 exercise or amusement, our condition became more melan- 
 choly and dejected. Our clothing we found insufficient to 
 keep us warm. Many of us bought woolen knit jackets, which 
 we wore instead of a vest and which gave us some protection 
 against the fierce cold winds that blew across the island and 
 chilled us to the marrow when we were on parade. When we 
 began to have severe frosts, the bandsmen did not appear at 
 guard mounting on the plea that their instruments would 
 freeze. The fifes and drums furnished the only music. Often 
 our fingers were so numb with the cold that we could hardly 
 play a note. The drummers could manage to beat a march 
 with gloves on their hands and suffered less. 
 
 One cold night late in November there was an alarm of fire 
 which proved to .be in the sutler's row near the hospital. It 
 broke out in several places at once. There was some excite- 
 ment in getting out the soldiers' wives and children who lived 
 there, but none were injured. There were no fire extinguish- 
 ing appliances on the island, save fire buckets. The soldiers 
 formed lines to the nearest pump and cistern and passed the 
 buckets along. But they could make no impression on the fire, 
 and the row was a mass of ruins in little more than an hour. 
 Long before a ferry boat brought some firemen and a hand en- 
 gine from the city there was nothing left to save. 
 
 Two of the older boys were accused of setting the houses on 
 fire. They were arrested and confined in the guard house on 
 
 28 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 charges of arson and were still awaiting trial when I was or- 
 dered away shortly after. 
 
 The winter had set in early. It was very cold at times and 
 there was snow on the ground. We felt generally depressed 
 and miserable, when quite unexpectedly, one day in the early 
 part of December, 1854, two other boys and myself received 
 orders to prepare to depart to Carlisle Barracks, at Carlisle, 
 Pa., there to be assigned to the Second U. S. Infantry. I do 
 not know why I was selected to go. Quite a number of the 
 boys had been on the island longer than I, and some were 
 more proficient. But I felt glad. Surely any kind of a change 
 would be for the better. The next day I and my companions, 
 Peter Moritz and Edward Young, both a year or two older 
 than I, received a pass to go to New York and say farewell to 
 our parents or relatives, whom we were not likely to see again 
 for years. 
 
 A trusty corporal was placed in charge of us. He had orders 
 not to allow us to separate nor to lose sight of us and to return 
 with us to the island before evening. In this way we were 
 obliged to witness each other's leave taking in the presence of 
 our conductor. There were tears and lamenting, and the cor- 
 poral, who was kindly, but did not like his task, was impor- 
 tuned when about to leave one house for another to "let the 
 poor boy stay just five minutes longer." When he acceded it 
 generally extended to fifteen minutes or more. As none of us 
 had any intention to desert this painful way of parting might 
 have been spared us. There was no special need to hurry us 
 away, and sufficient time could have been given to notify our 
 relatives to come to the island and bid us farewell there. I al- 
 ways looked upon this as unnecessarily harsh treatment. 
 
 We all had some lunch in an eating house, made a few small 
 purchases and in due time returned to the island, angry at the 
 way we had been humiliated by the orders of either the com- 
 manding officer or the adjutant. Next morning we packed our 
 kits and started for the boat landing shortly after noon, accom- 
 panied by some of the boys and another corporal who was to 
 
 29 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 take us to Carlisle. We boarded the barge in which I had come 
 to the island on the day of my enlistment nearly nine months 
 before. Sergeant Brown, who soon after became a member 
 of my company at Carlisle, was still cockswain. We pushed 
 off amid the cheers of our comrades and passed over the East 
 River to New York. 
 
 No one seemed to have any clear idea as to where Carlisle 
 was or how long a time it would take to get there, so they 
 loaded us with three days' rations of boiled salt beef and bread, 
 which filled our haversacks to bursting. This, together with a 
 canteen filled with cold coffee, made no inconsiderable load. We 
 wore our overcoats, and our knapsacks were packed with a 
 five-pound blanket, an extra jacket and trousers, underwear 
 and stockings, an extra pair of shoes, clothes and shoe brushes 
 and knick-knacks. A tin wash basin was strapped onto the 
 back of the knapsack. All this made a load enough for a man 
 to carry. We passed through Battery Park and staggered 
 along West Street in the direction of the Jersey City Ferry, 
 making occasional halts for a rest, when crowds would collect 
 about us and ask us many questions. No doubt we three small 
 boys looked ridiculous to them, overloaded as we were. I over- 
 heard a longshoreman remark that he'd "be damned before he'd 
 make a pack horse of himself for Uncle Sam." 
 
 We reached the ferry, crossed the North River to Jersey 
 City and were put on a car that had wooden seats without any 
 cushions. It was the first time that I had ever been away from 
 New York on a railroad train and I was much interested in 
 watching the scenery all the way to Philadelphia, where we ar- 
 rived about dusk and changed trains for Harrisburg. I opened 
 my haversack, ate my frugal supper and went to sleep, tired 
 out with the day's excitement. About midnight the corporal 
 woke us up at Harrisburg to change cars for Carlisle, but we 
 found that there would be no train to Carlisle until eight 
 o'clock next morning. The station master kindly allowed us to 
 stay in the waiting room of the depot for the remainder of the 
 night. There was a good fire in the stove and some benches to 
 
 30 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 lie on, so we passed the night quite comfortably. We all had 
 a little money and got some hot coffee and rolls at the depot 
 next morning before we left on the eight o'clock train for Car- 
 lisle. We arrived there in less than two hours, with our three 
 days' rations almost intact. There was snow on the ground, 
 through which we trudged laboriously towards the garrison 
 about a mile away. 
 
 I was glad to leave Governor's Island. Its narrow limits im- 
 pressed me as a place of confinement. The quarters were over- 
 crowded, the food was bad and insufficient, the discipline very 
 strict, and there was little time or opportunity for recreation. 
 It was monotonous and depressing, and although later during 
 my service I suffered much hardship and encountered many 
 dangers, I never wished myself back on the island again. 
 Among the many boys whom I knew on the island I saw but 
 few again, outside of those in my own regiment. They were 
 scattered all over the country, serving at distant posts and often 
 changing. Probably but few are living now, and I know the 
 whereabouts of only one, who served in the Seventh U. S. In- 
 fantry for many years and now resides in New York, where I 
 see him occasionally and talk over old times. 
 
 31 
 
PART II. 
 AT CARLISLE BARRACKS, PA., IN 1855. 
 
 A~"TER a tramp through the snow with our heavy loads 
 from the Carlisle depot, we reached the barracks tired 
 out. The corporal reported our arrival at the ad- 
 jutant's office, and we were assigned to companies. Moritz 
 went as drummer to Company I, Young as fifer to Com- 
 pany A, and myself as fifer to Company D of the Second 
 United States Infantry. 
 
 The regimental headquarters were there together with the 
 field and staff, and the band, companies A, G and I had been 
 recruited to their full strength, but Company D, to which I 
 was assigned, had no real existence as yet. There were only 
 two officers, a few sergeants and corporals, together with three 
 or four privates, some of whom had served in the Mexican 
 War, which was all that was left of Company D on its return 
 from the Pacific coast, where the regiment had served for a 
 number of years. All of these men were attached to other 
 companies until such time as recruits would be received to fill 
 up the ranks. I was ordered to duty temporarily with 
 Company I. 
 
 The Second Regiment of the United States Infantry was 
 one of the oldest in the service. It was organized by act of 
 Congress on March 3, 1791, and was engaged with the Indians 
 on Miami River, November 4, 1791. It had fought in other 
 Indian Wars, principally against the Seminoles in Florida. It 
 took part in the War of 1812, and participated in the engage- 
 ments of the Mexican War from Vera Cruz to the City of 
 Mexico. After the Mexican War,, and at about the time of 
 
 33 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the discovery of gold in California, it was sent there, where its 
 men built Benicia Barracks near San Francisco, Fort Yuma 
 and other posts. 
 
 About 1850 it became known that the Government was en- 
 listing many recruits at Governor's Island for service in Cal- 
 ifornia. The gold fever was at its height and hundreds of 
 soldiers were deserting to the mines. Men who had served 
 their terms scorned re-enlistment when they saw so many 
 digging wealth from the hills or dipping it up from the moun- 
 tain streams. For the same reason it was impossible to get 
 recruits in gold-mad California. 
 
 But no such difficulty was experienced in the East. There 
 were plenty of recruits, but the sudden increase in enlistments 
 brought into the army some of the worst men that ever joined 
 it. They put on the uniform solely for the purpose of getting 
 free transportation to California at the Government's expense. 
 I had the story from some of the survivors of the eventful 
 trip made by these recruits from New York to San Francisco. 
 
 A steamship was chartered, loaded with army supplies and 
 some hundreds of the recruits. They were under the com- 
 mand of Brevet Major George W. Patten, of the Second 
 United States Infantry, with whom I served later on the fron- 
 tiers. Major Patten had served in the Mexican War, where 
 he had lost two fingers of his right hand, and was brevetted 
 for gallantry. By the rank and file he was called "Three- 
 fingered Jack," and was known as an easy going soul who 
 hated any sort of trouble, of which he and the young and in- 
 experienced lieutenants with him got plenty before they 
 reached their destination. 
 
 Almost the first day at sea the bad element among the re- 
 cruits began fighting with the sailors. They stole all the pro- 
 visions they could lay their hands on. Fortunately they had 
 no arms; these were packed in armchests, and stowed in the 
 hold of the ship. Only some of the sergeants carried sidearms. 
 
 The first stop of the steamship was at Kingston, Jamaica, 
 for coal. There the recruits overran the guards, got posses- 
 
 34 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 sion of a coal pile and had a pitched battle with a strong force 
 of negro police, who were trying to keep them on the dock. 
 They soon routed the police, swarmed all over the town and 
 committed many depredations. It required several companies 
 of white British troops to round them up, drive them back to 
 the ship and keep them there while she was coaling. 
 
 All the way to San Francisco the unruly element made 
 trouble. They laughed at the mild way in which the good old 
 major disciplined some of them. I was told that when one of 
 the ring-leaders was brought before him he asked his name ana 
 promised to make him a sergeant in his own regiment when 
 they arrived in California, if he would only behave himself. 
 After their arrival in San Francisco, most of these ruffians 
 deserted as soon as opportunity offered. Many of them made 
 their way to the gold diggings, and very few of them were 
 ever recaptured. 
 
 In 1854 the Second United States Infantry had become 
 greatly reduced in numbers from various casualties, and what 
 remained of the regiment was ordered East. Some companies 
 were consolidated, and the skeleton organizations of others 
 filled up with recruits. A few were entirely re-enlisted. Com- 
 panies A, D, G and I were at Carlisle, Pa., and the remaining 
 six companies were at Forts Snelling, Ridgely and Ripely on 
 the upper Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers, protecting the 
 settlers from the Indians. 
 
 I found Carlisle barracks a very agreeable change from 
 Governors Island. It had been built to serve as a dragoon bar- 
 racks, and had quarters and stables enough for a regiment, but 
 during my time, was used only for the Infantry. On July 1, 
 1864, a part of the Confederate Army, on their march to 
 Gettysburg, fired some shells into the town of Carlisle and set 
 fire to the barracks, but they succeeded in destroying only a 
 part of the buildings. On a recent visit there I found some of 
 the former officers' and soldiers' quarters still standing, also 
 the commanding officer's house, the adjutant's office and guard 
 house, all of which, together with a number of new buildings, 
 
 35 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 are now used as a Government Indian school and have been 
 for many years. 
 
 The soldiers' quarters were three-story buildings with a 
 wide veranda at every floor, facing the parade ground. There 
 company roll calls were held in bad weather. The rooms were 
 large enough not to be crowded; but the bunks were the old- 
 fashioned two-tier kind. Two men slept in each of the lower 
 and upper bunks, and it was uncomfortable. The rooms were 
 heated by stoves in which we burned wood. They were com- 
 fortably warm during the winter, which I found less severe 
 in Southern Pennsylvania than in New York. 
 
 Our rations were much improved. We were able to add many 
 extras from the company funds. We were in the midst of a 
 fine farming region and could purchase all kinds of vegetables, 
 and other products very cheap from the farmers who came to 
 the barracks for that purpose. When spring came we took 
 long walks. We were allowed to go anywhere within a mile 
 limit without a pass, but generally went much further. Few 
 depredations were committed, and many of the farmers were 
 delightfully hospitable, often giving us milk, and other things, 
 on our tramps about the country. 
 
 Carlisle, the county seat of Cumberland County, Pa., was 
 then a town of about seven thousand inhabitants, having 
 churches, schools, hotels, banks, stores, some saloons and many 
 good private houses. There also was Dickinson College, a 
 Methodist institution of renown, which is still flourishing. 
 The town was easy of access for the soldiers, who often went 
 there without the formality of a pass. It was but a mile away 
 from the barracks, and considerably less for those who used a 
 favorite route, crossing a small creek on a log, and cutting 
 across the intervening fields. 
 
 Unfortunately for some of the soldiers, there was a dis- 
 tillery on the outskirts of the town quite near where the log 
 crossed the stream, where newly made whiskey was sold for 
 a shilling (twelve and a half cents) per quart, or eighteen cents 
 for a canteen full. Shillings were still in circulation, and 
 
 36 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 there was no high tax on spirits. This cheap and easy way to 
 procure liquor was the means of sending many a soldier to 
 the guard house. 
 
 Occasionally, during the winter, there was a theatrical per- 
 formance in the town, which a limited number of soldiers re- 
 ceived leave of absence to attend. Another favorite amuse- 
 ment was a dance at a tavern or roadhouse outside of the town 
 where we had a chance to meet some of the farmers' daugh- 
 ters. I borrowed a gun sometimes, and got a few rabbits. 
 I also had some sleigh rides. Indeed, our liberty contrasted 
 so favorably with the narrow confines of Governor's Island 
 that the mild winter passed very quickly. 
 
 In about a month after my arrival at Carlisle, the comple- 
 ment of recruits required for Company D was sent on from 
 Governor's Island, and the company took up quarters by them- 
 selves in a new two-story building, with a messroom in the 
 basement, on the easterly side of the barracks. The recruits 
 were all young men, twenty to twenty-five years old, hailing 
 from various parts of the country. A considerable portion 
 were foreign-born, mostly Irish, although there were some Ger- 
 mans and a few other nationalities. Their previous occupa- 
 tions ranged all the way from a school teacher to farm laborer. 
 Some were fairly well educated and others ignorant to the 
 point of illiteracy. There were many mechanics of all sorts 
 among them who had worked as journeymen at their trades. 
 Also there were some runaway apprentices. We found those 
 of a mechanical experience very useful later on at the 
 frontiers. 
 
 As usual, they had enlisted for various reasons. Some had 
 the "Wanderlust" ; others had a taste for adventure and hoped 
 to satisfy it in a soldier's life. Some had joined from sheer 
 necessity, or inability to find any other occupation to support 
 themselves. This last was a very common cause. There were 
 also a few "ne'er-do-wells" who were of no use anywhere, and 
 a detriment to the army. It took months to drill and discipline 
 these men, and to make serviceable soldiers of them. But after 
 
 37 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a time their awkwardness disappeared. They carried them- 
 selves erect, and there was a marked improvement, except in a 
 few who seemed too stupid to be taught and strained the drill 
 sergeant's patience to the breaking point. Every company 
 seemed to have a few members so awkward as to disarrange 
 any well drilled company. Whenever possible these were de- 
 tailed to some special duty, which kept them out of the ranks. 
 
 The men were left to choose their bunkies, and pair off as 
 they pleased. I bunked with one of the sergeants of the com- 
 pany who had served in Mexico and in California. He was a 
 middle aged man of exemplary character, who took a sort of 
 fatherly interest in me. He taught me many things useful 
 in a soldier's life. 
 
 I met with one great disappointment on joining Company D. 
 I had hoped to have as a companion a drummer-boy of about 
 my own age, with whom I could chum. This desire was 
 strengthened by the knowledge that the fifer was considered to 
 rank the drummer and in the absence of special instructions 
 could order the drummer to play such tunes or marches as he 
 chose. But I found myself associated with a man who was a 
 dozen years my senior. He was serving his second enlistment, 
 and had been transferred from some other regiment and sent to 
 Carlisle. He was a married man without any children, and 
 lived in another part of the garrison away from the company. 
 His wife, a rather attractive and genteel young woman, was 
 one of the four laundresses which the army regulations allowed 
 to each company, and provided free with a soldier's daily 
 ration, quarters, transportation, and medical attendance. 
 
 My drummer was a tall, haggard man with a sallow face. I 
 was still a few inches short of having attained the height of 
 five feet, and when my tall drummer and I marched at the head 
 of the company we were called the "long and the short of it," 
 which greatly annoyed me as I was very sensitive to ridicule. 
 Another annoyance was the fact that he was not a very good 
 drummer, and would not take the trouble to learn any new and 
 fancy pieces, as we boys did. Whenever I had to play with 
 
 38 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 him alone I was obliged to content myself with the old reper- 
 toire. Aside from these differences, we managed to get along 
 well enough, as he was a sober and solemn man who kept very 
 much to himself. But I always missed the companionship of 
 a more youthful spirit. 
 
 The commander of my company at this time was Captain 
 and Brevet Major Samuel P. Heintzelman, a native of Penn- 
 sylvania who during the Civil War commanded an army corps 
 in the army of the Potomac, and became a major general. His 
 grey hair and beard gave him a fatherly appearance, and he 
 was well liked by the men. He was fond of bean soup, the 
 kind that only soldiers can make. He frequently sent his serv- 
 ant to the Company kitchen for a quart of bean soup. Captain 
 Heintzelman remained with us but a few months when he was 
 promoted to Major of the First Regiment of Infantry. We re- 
 gretted to lose him. The first lieutenant was Thomas W. 
 Sweeney, a native of Ireland, who had lost an arm in the Mex- 
 ican War. He retired from the service in 1870, with the rank 
 of Brigadier General. He was a good soldier. The second 
 lieutenant was John D. O'Connell, of Pennsylvania, a tall, fine- 
 looking man, somewhat given to swearing when he got angry, 
 but a fair and just man. I do not know what became of him 
 after the war. We had three efficient officers who took good 
 care of the company. Captain Heintzelman and Lieutenant 
 O'Connell, were both West Point graduates. The commander 
 of the post was John J. Abercrombie, lieutenant colonel of our 
 regiment. He was also a West Pointer and had joined the 
 army in 1822. He was a good tactician and a very proud and 
 dignified officer. 
 
 In March, 1855, great changes took place. The U. S. Army, 
 which then consisted of only eight regiments of infantry, two 
 of dragoons, one of mounted rifles, four of artillery, of which 
 but two companies in each regiment were batteries, and a few 
 engineer and ordnance soldiers, was authorized by act of Con- 
 gress on March 3, 1855, to be increased by the formation of 
 two additional regiments of infantry, the Ninth and Tenth, and 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 two of cavalry, the First and Second. The old names of "Dra- 
 goons" and "Mounted Rifles" were dropped, and those regi- 
 ments were thereafter known as the Third, Fourth and Fifth 
 Cavalry. General Scott's infantry tactics were abandoned for 
 Colonel Hardee's. 
 
 The old smooth bore musket, which carried a ball and three 
 buckshots at short range, was replaced by a long range rifle 
 with a barrel of a dull finish and a sword bayonet. The old 
 fashioned cross belts were done away with, and the cartridge 
 boxes made smaller. The heavy shakos and clumsy fatigue 
 caps were replaced by a lighter and neater uniform hat, and a 
 Kepi, after the French army style. The cut of the dress coat 
 was altered and made to look smarter, and polished brass epau- 
 lets were worn. All this made a decided improvement in the 
 appearance of the soldiers on parade. 
 
 The change in tactics made extra drilling necessary. The 
 old had to be unlearned and the new acquired. After we had 
 become proficient in the new drill, Colonel Abercrombie some- 
 times marched the four companies, with the band and field mu- 
 sic ahead, through the town to the Dickinson College grounds 
 which were on the side nearly opposite to the barracks. There 
 he put us through a battalion drill. These drills and marches 
 through the town took place on fine spring days, much to the 
 delight of Carlisle's citizens, who turned out in great numbers 
 to see the spectacle and to hear the band play. 
 
 I had a very easy time at Carlisle barracks. I attended the 
 roll calls at reveille, retreat, tattoo and guard mounting ; drilled 
 and practiced for an hour each day except Saturdays, and 
 served as orderly at the adjutant's office about once a week. I 
 had a great deal of spare time which I spent in roving around 
 the country. I also went to town quite often. There was no 
 school so I bought some books and did some studying evenings 
 with the assistance of some of the men in my company. I be- 
 gan to like "soldiering." I wore a fine, showy uniform dress 
 coat of dark blue cloth with the standing collar, cuffs and 
 breast faced with light blue cloth, which made it very conspic- 
 
 40 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 uous and distinguished the musicians from the non-commis- 
 sioned officers and privates. The trousers were of light blue 
 cloth, and the Kepi (cap) of dark blue ornamented with a small 
 brass bugle and the regimental number above a straight visor. 
 I had a pair of brass epaulets, or "scales," as we called them, 
 which, together with my coat buttons and cap ornaments, I 
 kept highly polished. I also had a bright sword, for each mu- 
 sician, and the first or orderly sergeant of each infantry com- 
 pany carried a straight sword. The sword belt was made of 
 black leather and had a brass clasp ornamented with an eagle 
 and a wreath of white metal. My sword was rather long for 
 me at this time, and it used to get between my legs at first when 
 marching, and trip me up. It took some time to become accus- 
 tomed to it. 
 
 My pay was twelve dollars per month, with everything found 
 and I looked pityingly upon citizen boys of my age who had to 
 slave for a couple of dollars per week. 
 
 I was approaching my fourteenth year, and outside of my 
 military obligations felt that I was my own master. This, I 
 suppose, made me think I was a man in spite of my youth. I 
 fear that at this period I felt "a little cockey" or vain, and 
 showed it. This feeling, however, I got rid of after I expe- 
 rienced real service in the frontiers. I bought some white 
 shirts, "boiled shirts," as we soldiers called them, also neckties 
 and "bear's grease" for my hair. With all this I arrayed my- 
 self gorgeously when I went to town. Sometimes I wore a red 
 sash instead of my belt and sword which I was not allowed to 
 carry into town. I began to correspond with some of the town 
 girls, who admired the soldiers, and I made calls on some of 
 them. 
 
 We music boys patronized a small ice cream and candy store 
 kept by a widow and her daughter. There was a back room 
 where we often met and were served with soft drinks and cake. 
 Between pay days, when we had run out of money, the widow 
 gave us credit. 
 
 The freedom I enjoyed here was a great contrast to my un- 
 
 41 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 happy experience on Governor's Island, where I had but little 
 liberty, was half starved and was badly treated in many ways. 
 I look back with pleasure to my six months' stay at Carlisle, 
 whose citizens were always friendly to the soldiers. There was 
 but little of the rough element in that staid old Pennsylvania 
 town, and I cannot recall that any serious difficulty or encoun- 
 ter ever took place between the citizens and soldiers during our 
 stay there. 
 
 While at Carlisle barracks, I was obliged to take part in a dis- 
 graceful scene the drumming out of two soldiers. They had 
 been tried for desertion by a general court martial, found guilty 
 and sentenced to be indelibly marked on the left hip with the 
 letter D, four inches in height, to have their heads shaved, to 
 be dishonorably discharged and drummed out of service. This 
 sentence was executed one cold winter morning, directly after 
 reveille. The companies who had just answered roll call were 
 kept formed while all of the fifers and drummers marched to 
 the guard house. There we formed ranks, the two prisoners 
 in front, bare headed, closely followed by four privates and a 
 corporal, their guns at a position of "Charge bayonets." The 
 field music was behind, playing what is called "The Rogue's 
 March." In this way the prisoners, whose closely shaved heads 
 presented an absurd appearance, were marched around the 
 four sides of the parade ground, past the companies standing 
 in ranks, back to the guard house and through the gate adjoin- 
 ing. There we halted, their caps and small bundles containing 
 their little belongings were handed to them, also a dishonorable 
 discharge, then we watched them for a while as they hastened 
 down the road towards the town. They did not enter it, how- 
 ever, but cut across the fields and soon disappeared from sight. 
 
 This spectacular exhibition of a brutal punishment seemed 
 to me like a relic of barbarity. It was conceived in the virulent 
 minds of some of the officers who tried the prisoners. The sen- 
 tence was duly approved by a higher authority, although it was 
 not in accordance with the punishments as prescribed in the 
 army regulations. Young as I was, I felt ashamed and indig- 
 
 42 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 nant at being compelled to be an actor in this disgraceful scene. 
 
 A company of soldiers, after they have served together for 
 some months, become like a large family. My own company 
 was a fair sample. We soon knew each other's good points, 
 failings and weaknesses. It took but a short time for the com- 
 pany to separate itself into two parties; the larger of which 
 contained the men who kept themselves clean, and took some 
 pride in soldiering. The other contingent, happily small in 
 numbers, were often slovenly, disorderly, and sometimes vic- 
 ious. They were given to quarrelling, and occasional fighting. 
 Though they banded together, they were not able to create 
 much trouble while in the quarters, as they were so largely out- 
 numbered. It became necessary sometimes to teach one of 
 them a severe lesson, and I remember one case wherein a man 
 of filthy habits was taken to the creek by his comrades, strip- 
 ped and washed with soap and sand until his skin was raw. 
 
 As we had no way to lock up anything we owned we were 
 particularly severe on petty thieves, taking the law into our 
 own hands, by giving the guilty one a sound beating. This had 
 a good effect. Of those we punished none ever complained of 
 their treatment to the officers, knowing that they would receive 
 small consolation from them. After a few rigorous punish- 
 ments it was seldom that a soldier missed anything. 
 
 Tricks were played upon us boys once in a while. We played 
 our calls at the flag staff in front of the commanding officer's 
 house, where, when commencing to play, some fifer would 
 nearly burst himself trying to blow his instrument. Upon in- 
 vestigation he would find it stuffed with paper or rags. 
 Sometimes a drummer would find the drumhead greased or 
 the snares loosened. The bandsmen also had their troubles. 
 Their brass instruments were filled with water or stuffed with 
 rags; these experiences soon taught us to examine our in- 
 struments before going to the parade ground. 
 
 Early in March, 1855, Major Edmund B. Alexander of the 
 Eighth Infantry, arrived after having been promoted to col- 
 onel of the Tenth Infantry, one of the new regiments. As he 
 
 43 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ranked Lieutenant Colonel Abercrombie he took command of 
 the post. The headquarters of the Tenth Infantry were es- 
 tablished at Carlisle barracks. Officers and recruits for the 
 new regiment began to arrive, and the post took on a more 
 lively appearance as company after company of the new regi- 
 ment was formed. We began to be somewhat crowded. The 
 parade ground within the barracks proved to be too small for 
 drilling all the companies at the same time, and some of them 
 were obliged to exercise in adjoining fields. 
 
 The addition of four new regiments to the United States 
 Army, and the necessary increase of more than one hundred 
 and fifty officers brought joy to the hearts of many of the old 
 officers, who had long waited for promotion. Advancement in 
 time of peace is naturally very slow. Many grey haired first 
 lieutenants became captains, some elderly captains became 
 majors, and a few majors were promoted to colonels. The 
 second lieutenants were supplied from West Point as far as 
 possible. There was a very scanty promotion from the ranks, 
 but quite a number of appointments from civil life many of 
 these through political influence more than for any merit the 
 candidates possessed. 
 
 Before the raising of the four new regiments the number of 
 officers in the army who had been appointed from civil life 
 was very small. Most of them dated from the war with Mex- 
 ico. These men had seen service and were experienced. We 
 did not take kindly to the newly appointed lieutenants from 
 civil life. Few of them knew anything of military work, and 
 for some we had contempt. But we respected the young offi- 
 cers from the military academy, who understood their busi- 
 ness. 
 
 The various promotions caused many transfers of officers 
 to serve in higher grades in other regiments. My company 
 lost Captain and Brevet Major Samuel P. Heintzelman, who 
 left us, much to our regret, to become a Major of the First 
 United States Infantry ; William M. Gardner, a native of the 
 State of Georgia, and a West Point man, became our next 
 
 44 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 captain, having been promoted and transferred from another 
 regiment. He was an ardent Southerner who most cordially 
 hated the "Abolitionist" a haughty, high-spirited, irritable 
 man, more feared than liked by the soldiers. He was middle- 
 aged and unmarried, slight and of medium size with a swarthy 
 complexion. His delicate physique caused him to suffer much 
 from the severe hardships endured while on the frontiers, but 
 he bore them courageously and without a murmur. 
 
 He remained captain of Company D until his native state 
 seceded from the Union, when he resigned his commission, 
 and joined the Confederacy. There, I have been told, he be- 
 came a brigadier general and lost a leg during the war. I re- 
 member Captain Gardner with the kindest of feelings, and I 
 am grateful to him for special acts of kindness and indulgence. 
 He never was harsh or hasty to me, and often he gave me good 
 advice, which to my regret I did not always follow. 
 
 We had a mild winter at Carlisle, as I have said, and spring 
 opened early. In May it was warm enough to bathe in the 
 deep holes of the small creek, near the garrison, and we often 
 enjoyed swimming in a river some miles away. There was a 
 large cave in that vicinity into which we often went for the 
 pleasure of shouting and hearing the echoes. The country 
 was beautiful. There were large farms, with prosperous- 
 looking houses. I never tired of wandering about on the good 
 roads that stretched in all directions. 
 
 I found much amusement in watching the drilling of the 
 raw recruits of the Tenth Infantry, for we of the Second 
 considered ourselves trained soldiers now and laughed at their 
 awkwardness as others had probably laughed at us. 
 
 A certain Irish sergeant had a most peculiar way of his own 
 of elucidating the tactics to the recruits, and often lost his 
 temper when things were done wrong. One day, after he had 
 patiently explained and demonstrated to his squad that, when 
 given the command, "Forward march," each man must step 
 off with his left foot, about half of the squad advanced the 
 right foot. 
 
 45 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 "Didn't I tell y'es the roight fut's not the roight fut?" he 
 shouted. "The lift fut's the roight fut." 
 
 Sometimes it happened that some inattention of the instruc- 
 tor himself would cause amusement when drilling some of the 
 larger squads in marching. At the command "By the right 
 flank, right face, forward march," one-half of the squad mis- 
 understanding the command, would face to the left, and march 
 on until brought up against a fence or other obstruction. At 
 the same time the other half marched with the instructor at 
 their flank in the opposite direction, until he commanded, 
 "Halt, front face," and discovered the missing half on the 
 other side of the parade ground "marking time," and waiting 
 for a command. 
 
 An old soldier of my company named Coffey was married 
 and had several children. One of them was called "Kitty." 
 She was a little freckled- faced four-year-old who had the most 
 astonishing red hair that I ever saw. Kitty had a roving dis- 
 position, and wandered all over the garrison, and into the sol- 
 diers' quarters. Everyone played with her, and she was a gen- 
 eral favorite. She loved the soldiers, and the only way we 
 could make her go home was to say to her, "Kitty your hair's 
 on fire, run home and tell your mother." Kitty would then 
 scamper off crying. 
 
 She dearly loved to hear the band play, and often got in the 
 way on the parade ground. One day at guard mounting, Lieu- 
 tenant O'Connoll, of my company, who had a keen sense of 
 humor, was acting as adjutant. He was about to march the 
 guard in review, when he discovered Kitty directly in front 
 of the band, gazing at them with admiration. He changed the 
 customary words of command to "Column forward, guide 
 right Kitty Coffey get out of the way March!" all in the 
 same tone of voice. 
 
 I have seen Lieutenant O'Connoll, a big raw-boned, black- 
 whiskered Pennsylvanian, whom we learned to like in spite of 
 his very forcible language, fly into such a passion at drill that 
 he would plunge his sword into the ground half way up to the 
 
 46 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 hilt and hold up his hands in despair, vigorously berating the 
 company for some false movement. Sometimes, however, he 
 would laud them when they did their work well. 
 
 About the first of June, 1855, orders arrived for the imme- 
 diate departure of the four companies of the Second Infantry 
 stationed at Carlisle to Fort Pierre on the Missouri River in 
 Nebraska Territory. We were to form a part of the Sioux 
 Expedition, under Brigadier General William S. Harney, for 
 the purpose of chastising one of the tribes of the Sioux nation, 
 who nearly a year before had massacred Lieutenant John L. 
 G rattan, and his escort of twenty-one soldiers, who had been 
 sent out from Fort Laramie to hold a parley with them. As 
 the Government had but a handful of soldiers at Laramie, 
 vengeance had to be delayed until a sufficient number of troops 
 from our small army could be gathered for the purpose. 
 
 General Harney had been made leader of the expedition be- 
 cause he was an old experienced Indian fighter, known and 
 feared by many of the Indians. We made our preparations 
 quickly, paid some farewell visits in the town and in a day or 
 two were ready to start as soon as transportation could be pro- 
 vided. 
 
 I had some regrets at leaving Carlisle Barracks, where I 
 had experienced none of the ennui of a soldier's life, but had 
 thoroughly enjoyed myself. I think, however, that my regrets 
 were more than counter-balanced by the prospect of new 
 scenes far away from civilization in a country inhabited only 
 by savages, and which at that time had been but imperfectly 
 explored. 
 
PART III. 
 
 JOURNEY FROM CARLISLE TO FORT PIERRE, NEBRASKA TERRI- 
 TORY IN 1855. 
 
 COMPANIES A, D, G and I left Carlisle Barracks about 
 the first week in June, 1855. We formed on the parade 
 ground for the last time on a Saturday afternoon in full 
 marching order, our haversacks filled with three days' rations 
 of hard bread and boiled salt pork. At the command of Col. 
 Abercrombie we started off in a quick step, the band playing 
 alternately, "The Girl I Left Behind Me" and "The Bold Sol- 
 dier Boy," both old-fashioned tunes that it was customary to 
 play on such occasions. We marched past the guard house 
 where the officer of the day and guard of the Tenth Infantry 
 saluted us with a "Present arms." 
 
 We passed down the road to a point on the railroad track 
 leading into the town where a special train awaited us on a sid- 
 ing. The train was made up of a few baggage cars, a passen- 
 ger car with upholstered seats for the officers, and "emigrant 
 cars" with bare wooden seats, for the enlisted men and the 
 wives and children of the married soldiers. None of the offi- 
 cers' wives and children went with us; two years or more 
 elapsed before they saw them again. 
 
 Lieut. Sweeney of my company was left behind, detailed for 
 some special duty. Capt. Gardner and Lieut. O'Connell, both 
 bachelors, were with the company. The last farewells were 
 said, and amid tears and cheers from some of the soldiers of 
 the Tenth Infantry and the citizens from the town, we started 
 on our long journey. 
 
 I had a seat at a car window and was greatly interested in 
 the constantly changing scenery. We had to go back to Har- 
 
 49 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 risburgh to get to the main line to Pittsburgh. Traveling by 
 railroad was slow at that time, particularly so in our case as 
 we had to keep out of the way of passenger trains. We put in 
 a bad night on the hard seats and in the morning were at Al- 
 toona, where hot coffee was brought into the cars and served 
 to us from milk cans. Arrangements had been made to give 
 us coffee two or three times per day while en route. 
 
 We made slow progress over the Allegheny Mountains, 
 sometimes having an extra locomotive to push us along, and it 
 was late Sunday afternoon when we reached Pittsburgh. We 
 had to change trains here, and as we marched through the 
 streets to another depot, a crowd of people followed us. There 
 were four companies with a band and colors, probably more 
 regular soldiers than they had ever seen at one time before. 
 We were delayed a long time at the depot; but finally we 
 started, and after another miserable night on the hard seats, 
 we left the cars in the morning, crossed a river on a ferry- 
 boat and were in Toledo, Ohio. Stacking arms in one of the 
 streets, we sat on the curb stones and ate our meager breakfast 
 of hard bread and pork, together with hot coffee served in our 
 quart tin cups. 
 
 A crowd of citizens watched us with interest. They asked 
 many questions and made remarks, some not very compli- 
 mentary to our appearance. We had been two nights on the 
 dusty cars with no opportunity to wash ourselves or to clean 
 our clothing. I remember overhearing a stylish young lady 
 say to her dudish escort, "Oh! John, see how dirty they are 
 and look at the big shoes they wear." 
 
 We waited for some hours and then left for Chicago on an- 
 other train. Next morning, stiff and sore from our cramped 
 seats, we were outside of Chicago on the Illinois prairies, go- 
 ing south towards Alton on the Mississippi. During this third 
 night on the cars, as many as could find room lay down on 
 their blankets in the passage-way, securing a few hours of 
 fitful sleep at the risk of being stepped on. 
 
 Towns and villages were far apart in Illinois at that time. 
 
 50 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We traveled many miles without seeing a tree or a bush. It 
 was my first view of a prairie. Towards evening we arrived 
 at Alton and detrained on the outskirts of the town. There 
 we took shelter in some empty barns and other vacant build- 
 ings, on the floors of which we were glad to get a night's rest. 
 Next morning we were greeted by a furious rain which con- 
 tinued for two days and nights. During all that time we were 
 kept in the barns. Sentinels were posted to allow no -one to 
 go into the town ; nevertheless, some of the men succeeded in 
 obtaining whiskey. 
 
 On the morning of the third day the sun was shining bright 
 and warm. We received orders to "fall in" and marched down 
 to the wharf where four steamboats were awaiting us. One 
 company went on board each boat, the headquarters, field and 
 staff and the band going on the largest boat with one of the 
 companies. The boats cast off at intervals of about a half 
 an hour each and got under way. They carried no other pas- 
 sengers. My company embarked on the "Australia/* which 
 was the third boat in the line. The steamboats were of the 
 usual style of light-draft river craft, built to carry freight and 
 passengers. They were all equipped with high pressure en- 
 gines which noisily ejected a great puff of steam through ex- 
 haust pipes on the top deck at every thrust of the piston. They 
 were sidewheelers and each had two tall smoke-stacks. 
 
 On each side of the foredeck rested the butt end of a great 
 spar, hanging forward at an angle and secured at the top with 
 tackle. These long spars were used in working the boats off 
 sand bars, I found out later. 
 
 Freight was carried on these boats in a very shallow hold 
 and on deck behind the boilers, which were located well for- 
 ward. Above the boiler deck was the cabin or passenger deck, 
 containing the staterooms, and over that, the "Texas" or hurri- 
 can deck, on which was the pilot house in front, and back of 
 that the officers' cabins. The crew was provided for on the 
 boiler deck. The construction was very frail above the boiler 
 deck. The boats shook and shivered when under way, and as 
 
 51 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 everything was constructed of light joists and thin boards, the 
 danger of fire was always present. 
 
 Our boats had been very heavily loaded at St. Louis, Mo., 
 with a cargo of military and sutler's stores and material for 
 portable wooden houses. The company was quartered in the 
 forward staterooms on the cabin deck, two to each room. We 
 found the rooms stripped of every article of bedding and fur- 
 niture. Even the slats in the bunks had been taken out, and 
 we had to lie on our blankets on the floor. For our morning 
 ablutions we went to the lower deck and threw overboard a 
 bucket at the end of a rope. In these pails of muddy Missouri 
 River water we washed ourselves. The company cooks pre- 
 pared our meals in a kitchen on the lower deck and we ate 
 them wherever we could find room to squat down on the deck 
 among the deckhands, who were all whites. While on board 
 we got no fresh bread and only salt meats. The boat's crew, 
 or "roust-a-bouts," had better food than we, plenty of it and 
 a variety. They often guyed us about it, but we had the laugh 
 on them when the boat landed at a wood pile and the burly 
 mate chased them along with a club or rope's end while they 
 loaded cord wood. 
 
 We drank from barrels in which the muddy river water had 
 stood until the mud had settled. It became fairly clear, when 
 undisturbed for about twelve hours, and was not unpalatable. 
 
 We had a citizen doctor on board, hired by the Government 
 for the trip. There was no work for him just then, but when 
 we got to Fort Leavenworth he was kept busy. 
 
 On leaving Alton we went down the Mississippi to its junc- 
 tion with the Missouri, the "Big Muddy," where we could see 
 the distinctly marked line of the two rivers for miles before 
 the waters seemed to blend. The water of the Mississippi was 
 comparatively clear and seemed loath to mingle with that of 
 its murky companion. The Missouri was high at this time, 
 during the usual June rise. The current was strong, and our 
 heavily laden boats made but slow progress. This, however, 
 did away with the necessity for sounding and enabled us to 
 
 52 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 run at night, at least as far as Fort Leavenworth or further. 
 
 Except for three daily roll calls I had nothing to do. The 
 weather was fine. I watched the engines occasionally but spent 
 most of the day sitting in the front of the cabin deck looking 
 out upon the mighty river whose windings disclosed constant 
 changes of scenery. I was enchanted with it, and it never be- 
 came monotonous to me. Sometimes a steamer carrying many 
 passengers passed us, for no railroads then connected any of 
 the river towns, except one inland from St. Louis as far as 
 Jefferson City, the capitol of Missouri. A few of the passen- 
 ger boats were equipped with a calliope, or steam organ, and 
 would play old plantation melodies on approaching or depart- 
 ing from a town. To hear "Suwanee River," "The Old Folks 
 at Home" or "Susannah" reverberating from the hills on a 
 calm summer's evening was charming. 
 
 There were not many towns on the Missouri in 1855; the 
 principal ones that I remember were St. Charles, Hermann, 
 Jefferson City, Booneville, Glasgow, Kansas City, Leaven- 
 worth and St. Joseph, which was then about the end of civili- 
 zation and the white settlements. Smaller places, not yet even 
 named, were starting up, and some of them are prosperous 
 towns now. I had a good school atlas with me so that I could 
 locate the direction of the river and its principal tributaries. 
 It proved to be an interesting and useful companion, giving me 
 general information about the country and the distances be- 
 tween various points. 
 
 All of the steamboats used cord wood for fuel. This was 
 supplied from wood yards along the river as far north as the 
 white settlements extended. They were generally located in 
 the wilderness far away from any town, but were well known 
 to the pilots, who, when running short of wood, would sound a 
 warning whistle on nearing a wood yard, which would bring 
 out of the woods to the river bank a bushy-whiskered, matted- 
 haired individual in a red shirt, with one suspender holding up 
 his corduroy pants, the bottoms of which were thrust into 
 cowhide boots. 
 
 53 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 The pilot would run the boat close in to shore and slacken 
 speed while the captain opened a parley with the man in the 
 red shirt about the price of the wood per cord and haggle about 
 it until a bargain was made. If the price was low a large quan- 
 tity would be shipped, or on the contrary, only enough to reach 
 the next yard. Occasionally it happened that the captain 
 would not take any fuel at the price offered and would start 
 away to take his chances at the next wood pile, if he was sure 
 he had enough fuel to get there. 
 
 When it was decided to take in wood, the boat tied up to 
 the trees. Two gang planks run out, and the captain, the chief 
 engineer and the purser of the boat went on shore and in- 
 spected and measured the wood. If satisfactory, they gave 
 the word to the mate, who had his crew ready, and with a 
 shout started them off on a run. Each man rushed to the pile, 
 grabbed as many sticks as he could carry and ran into the boat 
 on one gangway and out on the other. The mate, in the mean- 
 time, shouted and swore at them on the run, sometimes giving 
 a slow man an unfriendly rap over the shoulders, to hurry him 
 along. This was kept up without a moment's rest until all 
 the wood wanted was on board. The poor devils of deck 
 hands and firemen were exhausted and dripping with perspira- 
 tion when their hard task was over. When this scene was 
 enacted at night time under the fitful blaze of pitch-pine burnt 
 on shore in iron baskets, it had a weird, unearthly aspect. 
 
 We made fair progress, without delay or accident, until we 
 were within a few miles of the village of Booneville, Mo. It 
 was noon, the weather was beautiful and the boat was making 
 her best speed. I was sitting on a barrel on the lower deck 
 forward, and had just finished my dinner and was talking to 
 some comrades, when suddenly a crashing shock threw me 
 down to the deck some distance away. I could hear the tim- 
 bers and upper wood work of the boat crunching and strain- 
 ing. I looked up and saw the two tall smoke stacks wabbling 
 dangerously and straining at their guys. The two great spars 
 at the bow of the boat were swinging to and fro, and threat- 
 ened to fall to the deck. 
 
 54 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Finding that I was not injured, I rushed to the upper deck 
 and looked down upon the scene of confusion below. There 
 were cries of "Snag! Snag!" that dreaded obstruction to river 
 navigation that had wrecked so many steamboats. In a mom- 
 ent the forward lower deck was crowded with hurrying boat 
 hands and shouting officers. A hatchway was uncovered and 
 half a dozen men jumped down into the hold. Mattresses and 
 blankets were dropped to them with which they tried to stop 
 the leak. But the inrush of the water was so strong that their 
 efforts were futile and in less than five minutes they scrambled 
 hastily on deck. 
 
 In the meantime, the pilot tried to back away from the snag, 
 but the boat seemed to be caught in a trap. Fortunately, some 
 one now gave orders to draw the fires and to blow off steam to 
 avoid an explosion of the boilers. The roar of escaping steam 
 and steady shriek of the big whistle added to the excitement 
 and confusion. The soldiers' wives and children ran about the 
 cabin deck, screaming with terror. We soldiers were made to 
 understand, despite the noise, that we were to take the life pre- 
 servers from our staterooms and assemble on the hurricane 
 deck. This was promptly done. There I noticed that we were 
 seventy-five to a hundred yards from the east bank of the 
 river, with no habitation nor any other boat in sight. 
 
 There were some life boats on this deck which our officers 
 had ordered us to help the crew to launch when word came 
 that this would not be necessary, as soundings had shown that 
 there was no danger of the boat being entirely submerged. This 
 quieted the frightened ones, and when the steam had about es- 
 caped from the boiler and the noise lessened, we were ordered 
 to descend to the cabin deck again to pack our knapsacks, take 
 our arms and reassemble on the upper deck. There we saw 
 five or six miles down the river the steamboat, Grey Cloud 
 with company A on board hastening to our assistance. 
 
 During all this time the boat had been sinking steadily, but 
 not so rapidly as I expected. We could plainly hear the air 
 pressure in the hold force off some of the hatchway covers and 
 
 55 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 noticed a hissing sound when the water reached the still hot 
 boilers. But there was no danger of explosion ; the steam had 
 been let off just in time. Occasionally the boat gave a sudden 
 lurch and listed alarmingly to one side and when the water 
 had entirely submerged the boiler deck and the boat began to 
 sink more rapidly, we laid down our knapsacks and arms and 
 began to put on the life preservers, as we feared the water 
 would lift off the cabin deck and float us out into the river to 
 drown, in spite of the assurance that the river at this point was 
 too shallow for that to happen. 
 
 We watched the final struggles of the boat filled with the 
 fear that she might break in two. Then with a huge straining 
 and a terrifying tremor she settled on the bed of the river. Her 
 bow was much higher than the stern, she had a strong list 
 away from shore and the water was about three feet below the 
 cabin deck. 
 
 I have no clear idea as to the time that elapsed between the 
 striking of the snag and the grounding of the battered hull on 
 the river bottom. But I know that the Grey Cloud, which we 
 were anxiously watching, drew up alongside of our wreck 
 about an hour after we had sighted her, and took us on board. 
 No one was lost or injured. We saved the company books 
 and papers and our own private property, except our dress 
 coats and uniform hats, which had been packed away where 
 we could not get at them. For these we were reimbursed later 
 on. 
 
 The sun was still high when we cast off aboard the Grey 
 Cloud and started up the river again. We took a couple of 
 the Australia's officers with us and landed them at Booneville, 
 a few miles away, to seek help. The captain and crew re- 
 mained on board and were launching one of the life boats as 
 we left. The last we saw of the wounded steamboat before a 
 bend in the river hid her forever from our view, was her upper 
 deck, with her paddle boxes and smoke stacks sticking out of 
 the water. We learned later that she soon went to pieces and 
 was a total wreck. 
 
 56 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Snags, such as that which caused us so much trouble, are 
 trees which have been washed away by freshets. They float 
 down the river and the largest of them frequently become 
 fixed with the heavy butt and great roots fast in the river's 
 bed where they are held until one of the constant shif tings of 
 the channel releases them. The branches of these trees in time 
 drop off, leaving only the solid trunk, invisible at high water. 
 It was such a one that sunk the Australia. We saw thou- 
 sands of snags on the upper Missouri when the water was low. 
 The pilots when descending the river pay but little attention to 
 the smaller ones. They are pointed downstream and the boats 
 often run directly over them without any injury as they read- 
 ily bend under the impact. 
 
 The addition of my company crowded the Grey Cloud. We 
 had to put up on the floor of the saloon for a few days until 
 we reached Fort Leavenworth, where we disembarked and 
 were to remain until another steamboat could be loaded and 
 fitted out at St. Louis to take us up the river to Fort Pierre. 
 The remainder of our little fleet had already passed on. The 
 soldiers' wives and children of my company were left on board 
 with Company A, fortunately for them. Their husbands, 
 however, were ordered to disembark and serve with the com- 
 pany. 
 
 It was in the early forenoon that we marched up the steep 
 hill from which Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, overlooked the 
 river. We were assigned to quarters in an old two-story build- 
 ing close to some vacant cavalry stables on the western side of 
 the fort, near some brush and woods. Fort Leavenworth was 
 an old frontier post and its buildings were dilapidated. Its 
 garrison at that time consisted of two companies of cavalry 
 and a large number of unmounted recruits for one of the new 
 cavalry regiments that was being formed there. The place 
 was crowded and the cholera was raging. The hospital had 
 long been overcrowded and one of the largest barrack build- 
 ings was also used as a hospital where the sick filled both of 
 its large floors. 
 
 57 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We had not been there many days before the dread disease 
 made its appearance in my company and soon we had a dozen 
 men sick of it. They were placed on straw beds on the floor 
 of one of the old stables near our quarters, which had been 
 hastily cleaned up for the purpose, although it was so infested 
 with rats that they ran over the helpless sick even in the day 
 time. There were no conveniences of any kind. The weather 
 was intensely hot. The only drinking water to be had was 
 brought from the Missouri River in barrels, into which each 
 one dipped his tin cup. There was no ice, not even for the 
 sick, and medical attendance was altogether inadequate. 
 
 After a day or two of illness one of our men died and was 
 soon followed by another. During our short stay the com- 
 pany lost four members, as well as Brevet Second Lieutenant 
 Samuel T. Sheppard, who died June 27, 1855. He was as- 
 signed to duty with us after our arrival. Lieutenant Shep- 
 pard was a fine young officer and had only lately been grad- 
 uated from West Point. As there were no musicians at Fort 
 Leavenworth except my drummer and myself and a few bug- 
 lers of the cavalry companies, we two were ordered to attend 
 all the funerals to play the "Dead March," and as my com- 
 pany was the only infantry present, they furnished the escort 
 for the recruits who died in the hospitals. During our stay of 
 about three weeks I cannot recall more than two or three days 
 without a funeral, held usually in the morning, but often fol- 
 lowed by another in the afternoon or evening. I frequently 
 saw two or three coffins carried at one time in the two horse, 
 covered delivery wagon which did duty as a hearse. 
 
 These funerals were simple affairs. A funeral escort of a 
 corporal, eight privates and my drummer and myself appeared 
 at one of the hospitals and waited until the coffin or coffins 
 were loaded on the wagon. Sometimes we were kept waiting 
 rather long, while the corpses were being placed in the coffins, 
 and nailed up in the presence of the sick and dying. There 
 was no dead houses or separate place for the bodies ; they were 
 left lying where they died on their straw beds on the floor, 
 
 58 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 simply covered with a blanket until the time for the next 
 funeral. 
 
 When the coffins were brought out the escort presented 
 arms, and when they were loaded on the wagon, the corporal 
 commanded, "Shoulder arms, right face, reverse arms, for- 
 ward march." Then we marched off in slow time, playing the 
 solemn "Dead March," which could be plainly heard by the 
 unfortunate patients in the hospital. We continued the slow 
 march and music, until a short distance outside of the fort, 
 when we ceased playing, and marched at the "Route Step," un- 
 til we entered the cemetery, which was more than a mile away. 
 There we resumed the slow step and doleful music, until we ar- 
 rived at the grave. The coffin was lowered without any fur- 
 ther ceremony, except the firing of three rounds of blank cart- 
 ridges by the escort, across the grave. We then marched back 
 to the garrison, while the grave diggers filled in the earth on 
 top of the coffin. 
 
 One morning, while waiting at the temporary hospital on 
 our usual sad duty, I was seized by a strong desire to see with 
 my own eyes the awful conditions in the building, of which I 
 had heard much. I entered the hallway and passed through a 
 wide open door into a large barrack room. On the two long 
 sides of the room, lying on the floor upon bedsacks stuffed 
 with straw, were about three dozen men in all stages of the 
 terrible disease. Some were unconscious of their surround- 
 ings ; their features had turned to a bluish black color. Flies 
 in great numbers swarmed around them, and settled on their 
 open lips and staring eyes. Others, in the earlier stages, feebly 
 tried to free themselves from these pests. The doors and win- 
 dows were all open, but the heat and stench were terrible. 
 There was no furniture in the room, except a table for medi- 
 cines, and a few chairs for the soldier-nurses. 
 
 Two rude oblong boxes rested on the floor near the door. 
 They were of pine, and not even stained any color. Into these 
 two almost nude bodies of men who had died during the night 
 were being placed or packed literally packed, for one of the 
 
 59 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 bodies was that of a very large man for whom the coffin was 
 too short. When his head and feet were in, his chest bulged 
 up, which made it necessary for one of the attendants to sit on 
 the cover while it was being nailed down. All this was done in 
 plain view of the patients. What a sight for those who were 
 conscious ! What must have been the thoughts and feeling of 
 the unfortunate sufferers? 
 
 I turned with horror and indignation from the room, sick- 
 ened and shuddering at the sight I had seen. What should be 
 said of the commander of the post, an officer of high rank? 
 And what of the chief medical officer? They permitted this 
 brutal and inhuman treatment of the sick to continue, while 
 there was plenty of space and tents to shelter the stricken, to 
 separate the convalescent from the sick and to remove the dead 
 from their proximity? 
 
 I am aware that medical science, at that time, knew but little 
 concerning either the prevention or cure of cholera, but at 
 Fort Leavenworth absolutely nothing was done to prevent the 
 disease from becoming epidemic. No orders, caution or in- 
 structions were ever given to us in regard to it, and it was lef 4 
 to each man to guard himself as his intelligence might dictate. 
 
 The afflicted of my company fared a little better than the 
 poor recruits. They were not crowded, and our little fat citi- 
 zen doctor did his duty conscientiously. After about two weeks 
 no more new cases developed in my company, and those still 
 under his care were convalescent. 
 
 There was a man in the company at this time, who claimed 
 to know of an infallible preventative of cholera. Before en- 
 listing he had worked in some of the Mississippi river towns, 
 as far south as New Orleans, where cholera and yellow fever 
 were prevalent. He claimed to have acquired his knowledge 
 from an old negro doctor. He said all he needed was a gallon 
 of whiskey, and he could furnish the rest of the required in- 
 gredients. He talked so much and so earnestly about this, that 
 he finally persuaded another and myself to put up the money 
 for the liquor, as he had none himself. He went down to 
 
 60 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Leavenworth City, a few miles away, and bought a gallon demi- 
 john of corn whiskey, which he secretly carried into the woods 
 back of our quarters. Then he dug up some roots. These, 
 with some bark, he cut up and put into the whiskey. After 
 digging a hole among the bushes deep enough to hold the demi- 
 john, he concealed it with brush-wood. 
 
 Every morning between reveille and breakfast, we sneaked 
 away to the woods by divers routes. Careful to be unobserved 
 we pulled out the demijohn and each took a drink of the mix- 
 ture. It was vile and strong stuff. One of the ingredients, I 
 think, was sassafras, but I do not know what else it contained, 
 for we were never told. We did this regularly every morning 
 during our stay. I do not know whether the stuff had any real 
 merit, but none of our syndicate had any symptom of the dis- 
 ease, and we succeeded in keeping our cache a secret. 
 
 After we had been at Fort Leavenworth about three weeks, 
 we received the heartening news one morning that the steam- 
 boat Genoa had arrived from St. Louis, and was ready to take 
 us aboard. We embarked in the afternoon, and at once started 
 up the river. It was on the third day of July, a date impressed 
 on my memory by the joy of getting away from a pestilential 
 place, and the fact that we hoisted the United States flag and 
 fired a salute at noon next day, with the little one-pounder can- 
 non on board of the boat. 
 
 The Genoa was almost a duplicate of the Australia, on which 
 we had been sunk near Booneville. Our accommodations were 
 about the same, except that the slats had been generously left 
 in the berths, so that we did not have to lie on the floor. I had 
 my first view of Indians a short distance above Leavenworth. 
 They belonged to the Kickapoo tribe and did not impress me 
 much. There were half a dozen of them loafing around a wood 
 pile where we had stopped. They looked sad and lazy and 
 begged for tobacco. They lived near the white settlements, 
 and appeared to have degenerated by contact with the whites. 
 
 The June rise of the river was over, and the water was much 
 lower ; we could no longer run in the night, but tied up at the 
 
 61 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 river bank as soon as darkness fell. In a few days we passed 
 St. Joseph, Mo., which, save for a few small settlements a lit- 
 tle further on, marked the end of civilization. Council Bluff, 
 Omaha, Nebraska City, Sioux City, and others, had no exist- 
 ence as yet. St. Joseph was one of the starting points for emi- 
 grants, who went to Utah and overland to California. It was 
 also the place of departure on the Missouri from the United 
 States Mail Route and the Pony Express. 
 
 We had not yet seen the last of the cholera. A sergeant of 
 my company was stricken, on the second day out from Leaven- 
 worth, and was immediately isolated on the lower deck of the 
 boat. Fortunately, it proved to be a mild case, and under the 
 doctor's care he recovered in a short time. This case was the 
 last we had. 
 
 At this time I shared my cabin with Corporal Clifford of my 
 company, who was my bunkie. We had been on the river but 
 a few days, when one night while I was preparing to lie down 
 in my bunk, after tattoo roll call, he told me he was going down 
 to the lower deck and would be back directly. When he failed 
 to return within a reasonable time, I reported his absence to 
 the first sergeant. A thorough search of the boat and the shore 
 revealed no trace of him. It was concluded that he had fallen 
 overboard and drowned, though no outcry had been heard. 
 Some months later we read in a newspaper of the finding of 
 a soldier's body in the river, away down near Kansas City. The 
 description seemed to fit Corporal Clifford. Everyone liked 
 him and his loss was deeply felt. 
 
 The captain of the Genoa was named Throckmorton, an ex- 
 perienced Western riverman. He had his son with him, a lad 
 about my age, with whom I spent a good deal of time. The 
 boy had a shot gun, and once or twice he took me with him 
 shooting birds and small game on shore, while the boat laid up 
 for wood. 
 
 There were no wood yards beyond St. Joseph, and we en- 
 countered no more steamboats, except those which had taken 
 Companies A, G and I to Fort Pierre, and were now return- 
 
 62 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing laden with furs. When wood ran short, the boat made a 
 landing at a suitable place, and all the firemen and deck hands 
 went on shore to cut down trees and chop them up to cord- 
 wood size. A quantity of logs were also taken on board to be 
 sawed and split on deck, while the boat was under way. This 
 saved time, for the "wooding up" of the boat consumed many 
 hours, and had to be repeated every few days. The wood was 
 of poor quality, mostly cotton wood, and of course, very green 
 for firing. Some of the soldiers voluntarily assisted at the 
 wood chopping, tempted no doubt by the small pay per hour, 
 and a drink of whiskey, which was also served to all the boat 
 hands. 
 
 Navigation became more difficult as we slowly advanced up 
 the tortuous stream which often seemed to double on itself. At 
 times we were heading south instead of north, and appeared to 
 be going down the river instead of up. 
 
 It was the mid-summer period of low water in the Missouri, 
 and no improvement could be expected before the fall rains. 
 There was no well defined channel, for the erratic river was 
 constantly changing its course. Islands that had existed the 
 previous year were washed away by the spring floods, or so 
 changed in contour as to be unrecognizable. New islands were 
 formed, and soon covered with a growth of willows and brush. 
 Land was washed away from shores and added in other places. 
 No reliable chart of the upper river existed. The pilot was 
 guided only by his own judgment of the current, the appear- 
 ance of the water, the visible sand bars, and the numerous 
 snags that showed their branches above the water's level. 
 
 Appearances were sometimes deceptive and caused the pilot 
 to run the boat up on the wrong side of a long island, only to 
 find that the channel was too narrow to get through or too 
 much obstructed by snags. He would then have to back out 
 and run back for miles in order to try the other side of the 
 island. Many times each day we heard the pilot's single toll 
 of the bell on the forward deck. This was the signal to take 
 soundings on the starboard side, and was usually followed by 
 
 63 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 his ring to the engine room to slacken speed. A man would 
 commence to "heave-the-lead" attached to a line, that had 
 marks in various colors at intervals, to indicate the depth of 
 water. He would cry out measurements, such as "No bot- 
 tom, mark- twain, half -twain, quarterless-twain, six feet, five 
 feet," then perhaps suddenly "Nine feet," or "Three feet," 
 when we could feel the boat slide onto a sand bar, if the pilot 
 had not reversed the engines in time. Soundings were some- 
 times taken in a row boat at some distance away. 
 
 We frequently ran onto sand bars lightly, and managed to 
 get off by reversing the paddle-wheels, but often it took many 
 hours or several days to float the boat again. When it was 
 found that the steamer was hard and fast, the great spars car- 
 ried forward were brought into use. The butt end of one of 
 the spars was lowered over the side into the water well for- 
 ward. It sunk firmly into the sandy bottom by its own weight. 
 A double set of strong pulley blocks, attached to the top of the 
 spar, were connected by a cable which wound around the drum 
 of a powerful capstan on the forward deck. The capstan bars 
 were manned by as many of the deck hands as could find room. 
 Then they began turning, very slowly after the strain was on, 
 going around in a circle and keeping up a kind of a chant, such 
 as sailors often sing on ships when raising the anchor by hand. 
 It was exhausting labor, but the soldiers often volunteered to 
 help. 
 
 By this operation a part of the boat was practically lifted, 
 and by placing the spar at the proper inclination, it was also 
 sheered away from the bar at the same time. Progress seemed 
 to be made by inches. Many times the spar had to be lifted 
 and reset in a new position, and often a portion of the deck 
 freight had to be shifted before the boat could be freed. Dur- 
 ing all this time the sand in the river kept on drifting against 
 the boat and added to the difficulty. If the boat ran into a bar 
 near the shore, where a cable could be fastened to trees, we 
 could get off again with much less trouble, and without the 
 nse of the spars. 
 
 64 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We proceeded in this laborious way, until we were fifty 
 miles or more north of where Sioux City is now located. 
 There a series of very bad turns in the river made Captain 
 Throckmorton decide that the Genoa was too heavily laden 
 to pass, and that at least one-half of her freight must be 
 put on shore. A place deemed suitable was selected on the 
 east bank of the river, and the unloading was commenced. 
 The freight consisting of all manner of commissary, quarter- 
 master and sutler's stores. It was put ashore on skids by the 
 deck hands and piled up under tarpaulins. 
 
 The company went on shore, including the citizen doctor, 
 and put up so-called "A" tents, which we found among the 
 quartermaster's stores. Thus we established a camp, where 
 extra ammunition and other necessaries were provided. A 
 guard of a half a dozen men under a corporal remained on 
 board, and the Genoa resumed her journey towards Fort 
 Pierre, a few hundred miles away. But, when something more 
 than half way there, and just below the upper "Big Bend," 
 the captain unloaded another part of his freight and left it 
 on shore without any guards. 
 
 Along the entire distance from St. Joseph to "Camp Gard- 
 ner," our destination, which the soldiers named after our cap- 
 tain, we saw no indications of white settlements, except at 
 the mouth of the Big Sioux River, a few miles north of the 
 site where Sioux City was founded the following year. There, 
 as we passed, we noticed some white men erecting a saw-mill. 
 They ran down to the river bank and motioned to us to stop, 
 but we kept on our course. We saw no Indians, for, according 
 to their custom, they had departed in the spring to hunt buf- 
 falo and other game on the plains and would not return to 
 the river until late in the fall. 
 
 We saw a few herds of buffalo grazing on the prairies some 
 miles away from the river. But when they became aware of 
 the steamer, they rushed away, and soon disappeared from 
 sight. 
 
 We were greatly annoyed by mosquitoes at night. So per- 
 
 65 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 sistent were these pests on a few occasions that men from 
 the company were detailed to remain on shore all night and 
 tend small fires whose smoke enveloped the boat. 
 
 One night there was an alarm of Indians. The sentinel 
 on shore reported to the corporal of the guard that he had 
 seen moving lights some distance away, that appeared to be 
 signals. The company was quietly called under arms, and 
 the lights on the boat extinguished. We remained on the alert 
 until daylight, but nothing happened. It seemed to have been 
 a false alarm. 
 
 While at Leaven worth, a married soldier had joined our 
 company, and he and his wife went up the river with us. She 
 was the only woman on board. A girl baby was born to her 
 before we reached Camp Gardner, and it was named Genoa 
 Harrison, after the steamer. 
 
 We had not been more than a week on the river, when I 
 became very ill and had to take to my berth. I had not felt 
 well for some days, and now had a throbbing headache and a 
 high fever, being part of the time delirious. I was furnished 
 with a mattress to lie on, and a man was detailed to wait on 
 me. The doctor was very attentive, and managed to pull me 
 through. When I got so that I began to eat a little, the doctor 
 got Captain Throckmorton's permission to have my meals 
 served from the cabin table. They were brought to me by the 
 captain's colored boy, who served me cheerfully. He was a 
 happy, grinning young darky, about my own age, and so black 
 that the soldiers said charcoal would make a white mark on 
 him. I had no money to reward him, but when we got to the 
 end of our journey, I gave him one of my jackets and a 
 soldier's cap, which made him very proud and happy. As for 
 the doctor, I remember him most gratefully ; but I never saw 
 him nor heard of him again, after he left us. I was able to 
 be up about a week before we got to Camp Gardner, and was 
 convalescent, but still weak. I suppose now that I had typhoid 
 fever, although the doctor did not tell me so at the time. 
 
 It was about a month after we had left Leavenworth that 
 
 66 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 we encamped, and in all that time we had accomplished less 
 than five hundred miles. The camp was on a knoll close to 
 a ravine, in which were some trees and bushes. The country 
 round about was hilly, and without any woods. I think the 
 captain chose the position as one of good defense against 
 Indians, in case our rich booty of freight should tempt them 
 to attack us. We never saw an Indian while there, but sen- 
 tinels were posted in the day time, where they could overlook 
 much of the country, and were withdrawn nearer to the camp 
 at night. 
 
 It was August and the weather was intensely hot. To es- 
 cape the sun we spent much time in the shady ravine. We 
 also went swimming often, and fished for cat-fish in the Mis- 
 souri. Rattlesnakes, which were numerous, were a cause for 
 anxiety, but we escaped being stung by them and killed many. 
 
 It was at Camp Gardner that we first made use of some of 
 the mechanical talent of my company. A couple of masons 
 built a bake-oven, near the river bank, out of stones found 
 there. It had a stone bed and was regularly arched on a 
 wooden center made of barrel staves, and was provided with 
 a smoke flue. The builders had no lime or cement, so they 
 covered it all over, about a foot thick, with earth and sods. 
 It worked well, and in a few days a practical baker of the 
 company made such good use of it that we all had bread which 
 tasted delicious after eating "hardtack" for a month. We 
 had plenty of flour, but I do not know how he made yeast. 
 Perhaps that was found in the shape of powders among the 
 sutler's stores. 
 
 Tobacco had become very scarce among the men. Some 
 of them smoked tea, coffee or dried leaves, until the captain, 
 who, I think wanted some himself, authorized the first ser- 
 geant to search the sutler's stores in the freight pile Boxes 
 of plug tobacco were found, and a plentiful supply was dis- 
 tributed, for which the sutler was reimbursed. Later on we 
 learned to make use of the Indian's substitute for tobacco, 
 when in want of it. 
 
 67 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We had been without any fresh meat or vegetables, since 
 we left Leavenworth, but at Camp Gardner we caught plenty 
 of large catfish, of which our cooks made a very palatable 
 chowder. It was an agreeable change of diet. In some of 
 the ravines we found quantities of wild plums, smaller than 
 the domestic fruit, and yellow, but fairly sweet and deliciously 
 flavored. There were also plenty of wild grapes, but not yet 
 ripe enough to eat. We had an easy time in camp, performing 
 no duties except guard. A stone cutter among the soldiers 
 wiled away part of his spare time carving deeply into the soft 
 rock face of a cliff on the river's edge : "Camp Gardner, Au- 
 gust, 1855. Here was caught a fifty-pound catfish by John 
 O'Meara, Company D, Second U. S. Infantry," The man who 
 caught this great fish was henceforth called "Catfish 
 O'Meara." 
 
 After nearly three weeks, the Genoa returned from Fort 
 Pierre. The freight was reloaded and Camp Gardner aban- 
 doned. The company's baker baked an extra supply of "soft 
 bread," which we took with us when we resumed our slow, 
 monotonous journey up the river. 
 
 Evenings, when the mosquitoes were not too numerous, 
 we gathered at the bow of the boat and sang songs to the 
 music of a mouth harmonica, which one of the soldiers played, 
 or told stories and tried to be cheerful. But we were again 
 overtaken by a calamity, about the third day after leaving 
 camp. 
 
 The boat was tied up to get fuel one afternoon, and some 
 of the soldiers took a swim in the river. 
 
 A sergeant named Schott, a strong, athletic young man and 
 a good swimmer, took a dive from the shore into the river, at 
 a point about two hundred feet ahead of the boat, and in 
 plain view of many on deck. We saw one of his hands ap- 
 pear above the water twice, near the place he went in. But, 
 as the minutes passed, his head did not appear, and we gave 
 the alarm. By the time the place was reached, there was no 
 longer any hope of rescue. Some hours were spent in grap- 
 
 68 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 pling for the body unsuccessfully. The small cannon was 
 brought on shore, and fired over the place where he was last 
 seen, a half-dozen times ; but it failed to raise the body, which 
 was never recovered. This event cast a shadow of gloom over 
 us. It was the second case of death by drowning since we 
 had been on the Genoa. 
 
 The river was now at its lowest. The summer had been 
 unusually dry, and when we got to the mouth of the L/Eau 
 qui Court River, now called the Niabrara River, it was found 
 to have formed a sand bar across the Missouri. This new 
 barrier made a lot of trouble, although we had only half a 
 load of freight. So, when Captain Throckmorton reached 
 the place just below the Big Bend, on the way up, where he 
 had left a part of his freight, consisting of a lot of barrels of 
 salt pork, he decided that he could not make his way through 
 the Bend. The freight was once more divided, and we went 
 into camp on the east side of the river, while the boat steamed 
 on to Fort Pierre again. 
 
 This camp was named "Camp O'Connell", after our lieu- 
 tenant. It was in the woods, where we were sheltered from 
 the hot sun, but we found the ground rather damp. We 
 cleared away the underbrush and covered the floors of our 
 tents with brushwood and leaves. When this did not keep 
 out the moisture, we built bunks about a foot high. We did 
 not build a bake oven this time, as we expected the boat to 
 return in a week. We were now only about one hundred miles 
 from the end of our journey. By this time we had become 
 more indifferent about Indians, as we had encountered none at 
 Camp Gardner, and wandered further from camp, in small 
 squads, always taking our rifles and ammunition. A few 
 men got permission to go hunting. One of them shot a small 
 deer, but they had little success with rifles on small game and 
 prairie hens. 
 
 One day some of the men discovered a large cornfield in 
 the bottom land near the river. The stalks were tall enough 
 to hide a man on horseback, but there were many weeds. The 
 
 69 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 cars of corn seemed as large as a man's forearm, and were 
 just about ripe enough to eat on the cob. Next day I was 
 one of a party that brought a kettle from camp, and we boiled 
 corn on the river bank. For a few days we had a daily feast 
 of this delicious corn. Many of the ears were red or blue or 
 mixed in color. We did not let the officers know about our 
 find, fearing they would forbid us to take any of it. We 
 learned later that this corn belonged to some of the Yankton 
 tribe, whose squaws had planted it in the spring before the 
 Indians started on their summer buffalo hunt. No care was 
 taken of it, but it grew to immense size in the rich soil, despite 
 the weeds. On their return, late in the fall, the Yanktons 
 gathered it. 
 
 In about a week the Genoa returned, and once more we re- 
 embarked. In taking down our tents, it was found that some 
 snakes had lodged in the brush and leaves under some of the 
 low bunks, and it made some of the occupants turn pale on 
 learning that they had peacefully slept so close to the danger- 
 ous reptiles. As the boat now carried only about one quarter 
 of the amount of freight she had started with, we made better 
 progress, and were only delayed by frequent soundings. I 
 think we reached Fort Pierre on the morning of the fourth 
 day from Camp O'Connell, about the middle of September, 
 1855, just fifty-one years since the Lewis and Clark expedition 
 had passed that way on its long journey across the continent. 
 
 As I look back over this long, weary and unfortunate jour- 
 ney, I realize that it took about three and a half months to go 
 from Carlisle, Pa., to Fort Pierre, Nebraska Territory. Of 
 this time, we were more than seven weeks on the Missouri 
 River, and it had cost the company seven lives one officer 
 and four privates, by cholera, and two non-commissioned 
 officers, by drowning a rather mournful remembrance for 
 this early period of my service. 
 
 70 
 
PART IV. 
 FORT PIERRE AND THE Sioux INDIANS, 1855-1856. 
 
 FORT Pierre, situated on the west bank of the Missouri 
 River, about fifteen hundred miles above St. Louis, Mo., 
 was an old trading post belonging to the American 
 Fur Co., which also had another post or two higher up the 
 river and one on the Yellowstone River. Fort Pierre was the 
 headquarters. It was a stockade structure, built of split logs 
 firmly set in the ground and twenty feet or more in height. 
 There were sheltered and protected turrets at the corners on 
 top, which afforded a look-out over a large area of flat coun- 
 try. The fort set back a short distance from the bank and 
 had a large gate on the river side. There were also one or 
 two smaller gates. The stockade enclosed a square space, con- 
 taining several well built log houses for the traders, trappers, 
 hunters and others. There were also storehouses and a cen- 
 tral vacant space of considerable size within the barrier. The 
 fort was built in 1832 by Pierre Chouteau, Jr., and recently 
 sold to the Government. 
 
 The stockade was built on high bottom land, well placed for 
 defense against the Indians. The prospect was uninterrupted 
 for miles up or down the river, and to the west the land was 
 level and bare for some miles to the foot-hills. To the east 
 was the Missouri with a large island opposite the fort and hilly 
 land on the other side of the river. To the north, on the bank 
 of the river, less than half a mile away, there was an Indian 
 settlement of about twenty-five lodges. It was there that the 
 Indians who came to trade usually camped. The sur- 
 roundings were bleak and dreary to the extreme. One saw 
 nothing but prairie or a few stunted bushes in some shallow 
 
 71 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ravines near the river. Wood for fuel had to be hauled a long 
 distance. 
 
 We found here the three companies that had preceded us, 
 also companies "B" and "C" of my regiment who ha/ marched 
 across the country from Fort Ridgely, Minnesota Territory. 
 They were the first soldiers that had ever been stationed in that 
 part of the country. They brought a herd of beef cattle and 
 mules in charge of herders, who had managed to get them 
 there during the summer season with small loss. 
 
 During the six weeks or more that these five companies 
 had preceded us, they had been very busy setting up the port- 
 able houses that had been brought up on the steamers. These 
 houses were placed a short distance behind the stockade, 
 around three sides of a large parallelogram, forming the 
 parade ground officers' houses on one side, company quarters 
 opposite and other houses on one end. The necessary store 
 houses were erected on the river front. The company houses 
 were intended to hold half a company each without crowding. 
 We moved into two of them on our arrival and had a little 
 less than thirty men in each house. They were single-story 
 affairs with but one room and of the flimsiest wood construc- 
 tion. The sills and floor beams were entirely too light for the 
 live weight to be carried, the upright studding was about three 
 by two inches, grooved on two sides to receive panels made 
 of three-quarter inch boards, which was all the protection 
 there was against the intense winter cold of that latitude. 
 There was no interior finish of any kind. The roof was of 
 thin boards covered with tarred paper and had a low pitch 
 from a ridge to the sides. The houses were set on wooden 
 posts about two feet above the ground. 
 
 Each house was furnished with two sheet iron stoves for 
 burning wood, and had stove pipes passing through the roof. 
 The officers' houses were the same, except that they were 
 smaller and were divided into two rooms by a thin board par- 
 tition. These houses were very easily set up. There was but 
 little work on them except driving nails. They had been pre- 
 72 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 viously painted a dark red color, both inside and out. Whoever 
 designed these cardboard houses for they proved to be but 
 little better had but a small conception of the requirements of 
 that climate. The winters were long, with deep snow and 
 frequent blizzards. The architect of these shelters was in- 
 directly the cause of much suffering. We built log huts for 
 company kitchens, but we had no mess-rooms. 
 
 On the day before the steamboat Genoa left on her return 
 trip to St. Louis, partly loaded with furs, a paymaster, who 
 returned on her paid us for four months. We did not see a 
 paymaster again until the following May or June. A sutler 
 had established a store, with a miscellaneous stock of goods 
 such as soldiers needed, also goods for trading with the In- 
 dians. But the prices were so high that we could not afford to 
 buy much. This was due to the high cost of steamboat trans- 
 portation, which amounted to about fifty dollars per ton 
 from St. Louis. 
 
 About two weeks after our arrival at Fort Pierre, a courier 
 from Brigadier General William S. Harney, commander of 
 the Sioux expedition, arrived from Ash Hollow with an or- 
 der for four companies of the Second Infantry to be sent to 
 him as re-enforcements. 
 
 It appeared that General Harney had fought a battle with 
 the Brule and Ogalalla tribes of the Sioux, on September 
 3rd, 1855, at Ash Hollow on the Blue Water creek. This is 
 a tributary of the Platte River, about two hundred and fifty 
 miles south-west of Fort Pierre. 
 
 These were the Indians who had massacred Lieutenant 
 Grattan and twenty-one soldiers more than a year before, and 
 for whose punishment the Government had organized the 
 Sioux expedition. 
 
 General Harney had started out from Fort Laramie with 
 six small companies of infantry and two of cavalry. After a 
 march of nearly one hundred and fifty miles, he skillfully 
 approached the Indians' camp, without the presence of his 
 troops being suspected. 
 
 73 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 The Indians had been buffalo hunting during the summer, 
 acquiring many skins, and much dried buffalo meat. About 
 seventy lodges had encamped on the Blue Water in a sheltered 
 valley, where they probably expected to pass the coming 
 winter. 
 
 The troops surprised the camp at day break, and attacked it 
 simultaneously from two sides. The Indians, unable to make 
 any organized resistance, fled in the direction where their 
 ponies were herded, but were pursued by the cavalry. Many 
 were killed, among them a number of squaws, for in the con- 
 fusion it was difficult to distinguish them from the warriors. 
 
 The chief, Little Thunderer, made his escape. The soldiers 
 lost few in this action, but the punishment to the Indians was 
 very severe ; and it had its effect, for as long as we remained 
 among the Sioux, only small skirmishes took place. 
 
 The loss of all their lodges, provisions, arms, furs and other 
 property, which the general caused to be burned, was a severe 
 blow to them. They were also deprived of many of their 
 ponies. After the battle, the troops were encamped in a 
 stronger position nearby. There they awaited re-enforcements 
 from Fort Pierre, where they intended to winter, as the gen- 
 eral deemed it imprudent to march his small force to the fort, 
 across the enemy's country, fearing that other tribes to the 
 north and east might form a coalition with the vanquished 
 Indians. 
 
 My company was one of the four ordered to join General 
 Harney, at Ash Hollow; but I and a few more of the young 
 boys were not taken along. We were left at Fort Pierre with 
 the two companies retained there. The march proved to be 
 very severe. Part of the route was across the "Mauvaises 
 Terres" (Bad Lands), where there was no vegetation. It was 
 a desert, where wood and water had to be carried in the wag- 
 gons from one camp to another. 
 
 Many curious specimens of fossil remains, picked up in the 
 Bad Lands, were brought by the soldiers to Fort Pierre. 
 There were petrified fish, lizards, frogs, etc. But nearly all 
 were imperfect, and more or less broken. 
 
 74 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 After a short rest, the united troops under General Harney, 
 twelve companies in all quite a little army for those days 
 took up their march for Fort Pierre, and arrived there early 
 in November, without any molestation from the Indians. 
 
 I have often regretted since that I was not allowed to go 
 on this march. I wanted to see that part of the country, 
 through which but few white men had ever traveled before. 
 
 General Harney's additional troops went into camp near 
 our quarters. The weather was getting cold; winter was ap- 
 proaching; firewood was scarce, and had to be hauled a long 
 distance. There was but a small supply of forage for the 
 cavalry horses, and scarcely any grass in the vicinity of the 
 fort. That had been eaten up by the mules and Indian ponies. 
 Water also had to be carted quite a distance from the river. 
 In view of these conditions, and as there were not enough 
 portable houses to shelter them, it was decided to put the six 
 companies of the Sixth Infantry, and the two companies of 
 cavalry into cantonment. They were accordingly sent about 
 six miles up the river, where they built log houses in the woods 
 on the east bank of the Missouri and remained there until 
 the following spring. 
 
 General Harney took quarters in one of the buildings in 
 the stockade. Whenever it was my turn as orderly at the ad- 
 jutant's office, one of my duties was to bring the general, in 
 a sealed envelope, the "countersign," or watchword for the 
 night. When I approached him, saluted, and said: "General, 
 the countersign," he would reply in his gruff, stentorian voice, 
 "Lay it on the table." I was always glad to hustle out of his 
 presence. 
 
 The general was very tall and powerfully built. He wore a 
 long white beard, and his white hair was also long. In spite 
 of his age, he was erect a remarkably commanding figure. 
 Many of the Indians knew and feared him. Among them he 
 was known as the "Great White Chief." 
 
 General Harney had been in the Seminole, and other Indian 
 wars. He was colonel of the Second Dragoons, in the war 
 
 75 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 with Mexico, and was promoted to Brevet Brigadier General. 
 
 During the absence of my company on the march to Ash 
 Hollow and return, I had but little to do and spent much of 
 my time in wandering about the environs of Fort Pierre. 
 With others I crossed the river in a canoe, and on the oppo- 
 site side we found great quantities of wild grapes, which 
 were fairly good to eat, though somewhat tart. We squeezed 
 the juice out of them, and with the addition of sugar and 
 water, made a very palatable drink. 
 
 There were some prairie-dog villages on the plain west of 
 the fort, and it was interesting to watch these alert and nimble 
 animals, no larger than a squirrel, running about and having 
 sentinels posted on some higher point near their underground 
 dwellings. These sentries sat upon their haunches, and 
 watched carefully in all directions. Whenever we got within 
 a certain distance of them, they gave a shrill, sharp bark, 
 which started all the others running for the various holes. No 
 matter how quiet we kept, or how long we remained, they 
 did not come out again until we were a long distance away. 
 
 I became acquainted with some of the employees of the 
 American Fur Company, who were mostly French-Canadians, 
 with a few half-breed Indians among them. Some of them 
 were married to squaws and lived at the Indian camp close by. 
 From these men, who were mostly hunters, trappers or guides, 
 I heard many interesting stories of their hazardous lives and 
 their experiences among the Indians, whose language most of 
 them spoke. They were often useful as interpreters. 
 
 To me, the most interesting people at Fort Pierre were the 
 Indians, among whom I passed the greater part of my leisure 
 time. This intimate association with the savages continued all 
 through my service on the frontiers, a period of about five 
 years in Nebraska and Minnesota Territories. 
 
 I have read the beautiful stories of Fennimore Cooper and 
 other writers of Indian romances. I have also read some of 
 the stories of explorers and the able and interesting works of 
 men who lived among the North American Indians and studied 
 
 76 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 them. But I do not intend to quote from any of them. I shall 
 simply relate here what I learned about the Indians from per- 
 sons living in close contact with them during my time and the 
 impressions they made on my youthful mind, as I can remem- 
 ber them now, after a period of fifty years since I left the 
 Indian country to take part in the Civil War, in 1861. 
 
 Nebraska Territory in 1855, extended from Minnesota Ter- 
 ritory, on the east, to the Rocky mountains, on the west ; and 
 from Kansas Territory, on the south, to the British posses- 
 sions, on the north. It has since been partitioned into North 
 and South Dakota, Nebraska, Wyoming and Montana. The 
 greater part of this immense territory was claimed and inhab- 
 ited by the Sioux Indians, a name given to them by the 
 French-Canadians, who also gave French names to some of 
 the tribes composing the Sioux, such as the Gross Ventres, 
 Brules, etc. These Frenchmen also named the rivers, streams 
 and mountains, many of which have since been re-named. 
 
 The Indians called themselve Dakotas, and did not recognize 
 the name of Sioux. They were divided into a number of 
 tribes, each ruled by a chief. The following are the names of 
 some of the tribes, with the most of whom we came in con- 
 tact: Poncas, Yanktons, Yanktonnas, Uncapapas, Blackfeet, 
 Rikarees, Minnikanye, Ogallalas, Brules. Certain tribes were 
 sub-divided into bands, such as the "Two-Kettle-Band," and 
 "Smutty-Bear-Band," both of whom were Yanktons. 
 
 Lieutenant Gouverneur K. Warren, of the Topographical 
 Engineers, U. S. A., who made surveys in the Dakota country 
 in 1855, 1856 and 1857, and to whom we furnished an escort, 
 estimated the Dakota Indians at about three thousand lodges, 
 which would represent a population of twenty-four thousand, 
 of which five thousand were warriors. 
 
 During a decade, their numbers had decreased from wars 
 with the Chippewa Indians and other tribes in the north, while 
 in the south, near the white settlements, the mortality from the 
 small-pox had been very great among Poncas and Yanktons. 
 I noticed that many of them were pock-marked, and some had 
 
 77 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 become blind in one eye from the disease, which their medi- 
 cine-men could neither cure nor prevent from becoming 
 epidemic. 
 
 It was obvious that the more northern tribes of the Dakotas, 
 who had seen but a few whites, were superior to those of the 
 sou1;h, near the settlements, whose contact with the whites had 
 degraded them. The Indians who inhabited the more northern 
 and western parts of Nebraska were fine specimens of their 
 race, for they still lived in their aboriginal way. Game was 
 yet abundant. They were proud and warlike and possessed 
 many ponies. Their tepees were larger, finer and more deco- 
 rated. They were rich in furs of all kinds, which they bartered 
 with the traders for guns, powder, lead, beads, calico, knives, 
 tomahawks, etc. Many of them had guns, but most of these 
 were old flint-locks. Bows and arrows were by no means 
 abandoned and they continued to manufacture and use them. 
 They also had many dogs, which closely resembled wolves, ex- 
 cept in color. These dogs, some of them very large, they used 
 in many ways, often as beasts of burden and as a choice 
 article of food on festive occasions. 
 
 The distinctive features of the Dakotas were their broad 
 faces with high cheek bones ; their high, broad, receding fore- 
 heads and coarse, coal-black hair, slightly wavy like a horse's 
 mane. The men, or bucks, as we called them, wore no beards. 
 The very little hair that grew on their faces, they carefully re- 
 moved. I often saw them engaged in plucking out hairs from 
 their faces with tweezers and the aid of a small mirror. Some 
 of them even plucked the hair from their eyebrows. The men 
 were generally tall, or looked so because of their erect bear- 
 ing. Sinewy and slender as a rule, quick and active, they 
 seemed better looking than the women. They wore buckskin 
 leggings and buckskin shirts in winter, fringed and orna- 
 mented, moccasins, elaborately beaded, and colored blankets 
 or soft buffalo robes. They wore no head covering, simply a 
 few eagle feathers. Hats or war bonnets were only worn on 
 special occasions. They were fond of wearing large brass 
 
 78 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 rings in their ears, the weight of which pulled the lobes so 
 far down as to be grotesque. Many wore armlets and wrist- 
 lets of heavy brass wire, wound around many times, and a 
 necklace of bears' claws. 
 
 The complexion of the Dakotas ranged all the way from a 
 pale saffron to a deep copper color. When they were decked 
 out in their full paraphernalia, with their faces and upper 
 parts of their bodies painted in various colors, knives and 
 tomahawks thrust into their belts, and bows and quivers slung 
 over their shoulders, they presented a formidable and pictur- 
 esque appearance. 
 
 I saw but a small proportion of very old bucks or squaws 
 among them. Possibly they had a way of getting rid of them 
 when they became old and helpless. Neither were children 
 very numerous, although they practised polygamy. I suppose 
 many of these died in infancy. 
 
 Of the many Indian chiefs whom I saw at Fort Pierre, I 
 can only recall the names of two, Struck-by-the-Ree and 
 Smutty-Bear, who were there frequently and in whose tepees 
 I smoked the pipe. Both were well along in years. 
 
 Of the squaws but few could be called handsome and it 
 would be flattery to say that many were even good looking. 
 While they were generally lithe and graceful in their youth, 
 laborious work and severe hardships aged them early. They 
 inclined to stoutness more than the males, and many of the 
 elder ones had backs that were bent from carrying heavy 
 burdens. 
 
 The squaws planted corn, dug up edible roots, gathered and 
 dried fruit, skinned the game which the men killed, cut up and 
 dried the buffalo meat, tanned the skins, made moccasins and 
 garments, did the cooking, fetched water and carried fire wood 
 or buffalo chips for long distances on their backs. They 
 put up and took down the teepees, loaded the ponies, and did 
 all kinds of other work, frequently with a papoose or two 
 fastened to their backs. 
 
 The males did little more than hunt and fish, make bows 
 
 79 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and arrows, and carve pipes and stems. The young Indians 
 herded and took care of the ponies and some few horses 
 which had probably been stolen from the settlers. Sometimes 
 they helped the squaws in setting up the large, heavy teepees. 
 This is about all I ever saw them do, save for playing polo 
 with a ball and crooked stick, while mounted on their fleet 
 and active ponies, very much the same as the game is played 
 among the whites to-day. 
 
 The squaws' clothing closely resembled that of the bucks. 
 They wore buckskin mocassins, leggings and a skirt, but they 
 were very fond of gay colored calico garments, which they 
 wore in the summer time. The material for these they ob- 
 tain from traders or soldiers. We often bought calico of the 
 sutler and traded it with the squaws for moccasins or furs. 
 We could always make a better bargain if the calico had glar- 
 ing colors and fantastic figures. The squaws also wore a 
 blanket or robe, and when they covered up their heads with 
 that, leaving only their broad faces exposed, they looked so 
 much like the young bucks that it was difficult to distinguish 
 the sexes by sight. This was the cause of some ridiculous 
 mistakes by the soldiers. 
 
 Observance of ceremonies and duties toward the dead was 
 also the performance of squaws. When an Indian died the 
 squaws sewed up the body in several wraps of buffalo hide 
 together with his personal belongings his gun, his bow and 
 arrows, his knife, tomahawk, pipe and, in fact, all his minor 
 property. Some ears of corn and other food were always 
 placed inside the shroud to provision him for the journey to 
 the spirit land. 
 
 The Dakotas did not bury their dead. They either secured 
 them in the branches of trees or on a rude, strong scaffold 
 made of forked sticks and poles, set atop some hill, where it 
 was plainly visible for miles around. Among the Ponca tribe, 
 however, I saw bodies placed on the ground on top of a knoll 
 with a pediment-shaped structure of split logs over them. 
 They were encased in stones and sods to secure them, but 
 
 80 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 many had fallen into decay and were partly open to the rav- 
 ages of wolves and other animals. 
 
 Sometimes on marches through the country we had a few 
 Indian guides who took some of their squaws with them. 
 Whenever the squaws sighted an Indian burial place they rode 
 towards it, dismounted, and set up a mournful howl. Then 
 they deposited some ears of corn or some pemican at the foot 
 of the tree or scaffold. 
 
 On a hill within sight of Fort Pierre, there was a large, high 
 scaffold, on which some dozens of Indians* bodies were lashed 
 with strips of buffalo skins. I visited the place one day with 
 some companions. We found that a recent storm had demol- 
 ished a part of the old structure, and nearly a dozen of the 
 bodies had fallen to the ground. In many cases the dry, brittle 
 wrappings of skins had been broken open by the fall, exposing 
 the contents to plain view. 
 
 It seemed to me most singular that the bodies had not putri- 
 fied, but appeared to have simply shriveled up in that pure, dry 
 atmosphere. It was as if they had been mumified by nature. 
 There appeared to be no flesh, but a parchment like skin clung 
 to the bones, and the raven black hair adhered to the skull. 
 
 The bodies were all fully dressed and had on all their orna- 
 ments. I noticed one among them that wore a British officer's 
 red uniform coat with epaulets and gilded buttons. I regret 
 to say that some of the soldiers committed the sacrilege of ap- 
 propriating some of the articles inclosed with the bodies, such 
 as knives, tomahawks, flints and steel, and made practical use 
 of them. 
 
 A group of squaws sometimes visited the fort with cunning 
 looking little papooses' heads peeping out over their shoulders 
 followed by small children who were afraid of the soldiers. 
 They meandered around until they found the huts where the 
 soldiers' wives and families lived. There they would squat on 
 the ground and spend hours watching the white women at 
 their domestic work. By way of diversion they occasionally 
 placed one of their children between their knees, and set to 
 
 81 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 work picking small insects out of the child's hair. They had a 
 very original and effective way of disposing of the captive. 
 They held him between the thumb and finger, placed him be- 
 tween the front teeth and bit him to death. 
 
 The squaws wore their black, coarse hair in two long braids. 
 The parting in the center was generally made conspicuous with 
 vermillion paint. The color of their cheeks was heightened by 
 the same material, with perhaps a yellow ring around the eyes. 
 If in mourning, a simple, irregular patch of white paint on the 
 forehead seemed to be all that was needed. They greased their 
 hair liberally with buffalo fat which, when rancid, emitted an 
 unpleasant odor. 
 
 It was interesting to watch the arrival of a band of Indian^ 
 at a military post. This happened often at Fort Pierre except 
 in winter. Sometimes they came with a grievance against 
 white settlers or hunters, or with a complaint against a neigh- 
 boring tribe who were violating a treaty. But often they vis- 
 ited us simply out of curiosity. They came in large and small 
 parties, sometimes several hundred or more, including squaws 
 and children. 
 
 I often watched the long line coming down the hills or across 
 the prairie, the men riding in advance two by two on their un- 
 shod ponies. After them came squaws riding straddle and 
 leading pack horses. Next came a line of ponies in single file, 
 with a number of long lodge poles lashed to their sides. One 
 end of the poles dragged on the ground behind, making what is 
 called an Indian trail. On these poles, behind the pony, there 
 was fastened a network on which were piled the teepees, furs, 
 cooking utensils, and other articles used by the Indians. The 
 ponies were led by boys or girls mounted or on foot. Fron- 
 tiersmen called these conveyances "travoys." Bringing up 
 the rear were a number of large dogs dragging smaller tra- 
 voys in which children rode. Old squaws or invalids rode 
 as best they could on top of the baggage on the larger travoys. 
 
 When a suitable camping place near the post was reached, 
 there was a halt and a closing up of the long column. The 
 
 82 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 bucks had a short parley with the squaws. Then they dis- 
 mounted and sat down on the grass in groups and commenced 
 smoking their pipes, while the squaws unpacked the ponies, 
 and began to put up the teepees in line and at regular intervals. 
 Some of the larger teepees, with their long poles, were heavy 
 to raise and required the assistance of the younger bucks. 
 When the ponies were all unpacked and unsaddled, they were 
 driven off to water and graze on the prairie. The tired dogs 
 lay down, and went to sleep. The squaws continued at their 
 tasks. Some in search of fire-wood, others went off with ket- 
 tles for water or were busy within the teepees. When the 
 teepees were ready, the Indians entered them and after a time 
 emerged, if the sun was not too low, dressed or rather un- 
 dressed in full war paint. They were naked from the waist 
 up. Some wore feathered bonnets ; others had eagle feathers 
 in their hair. But the faces of all were grotesquely painted in 
 colors that suited their fancy. Some were hideous. 
 
 They also painted part of their bodies, particularly the ribs. 
 When this was done alternately in white and black it made 
 them look like living skeletons. They were unarmed, except 
 for a knife or tomahawk carried in their waist belts. A few 
 squaws, their faces also painted, and each with a small drum 
 like a tambourine, joined them. 
 
 By this time an interpreter had appeared. They donned 
 their robes or blankets, and without any regular formation, 
 started for the parade ground. In front of the commanding 
 officer's house they came to a halt. The commandant with 
 other officers was ready to receive them. A lot of the soldiers 
 not on duty and citizen employees soon formed a group of 
 spectators. The Indians threw off their robes and blankets and 
 formed a circle. The squaws stationed outside of the circle 
 commenced a monosyllabic chant in a low voice at first, but 
 gradually rising. This was responded to by the bucks in a 
 like manner, while the squaws beat a tom-tom on their drums. 
 Then they began to dance around the circle, slowly at first, 
 with heads and bodies thrust forward, backs curved, feet mov- 
 
 83 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing stiffly up and down, elbows against the sides, forearms ex- 
 tended straight forward and fists doubled. In this way the 
 dance went on for five or ten minutes, increasing in speed un- 
 til it ended in a furious beating of the drums and an ear pierc- 
 ing yell or war-whoop. 
 
 After this interesting ceremony had been repeated once or 
 twice, the Indians advanced in a body towards the officers, 
 headed by their chief, who commenced a "talk," which was in- 
 terpreted to the commanding officer, and was frequently as- 
 sented to by a grunt from the other Indians. When the chief 
 had concluded, his place would be taken by another, a real ora- 
 tor perhaps, whose language was fluent and gestures dramatic. 
 
 The complaints of the Indians were often about settlers en- 
 croaching on their lands, or about a party of white hunters 
 who had caused the buffaloes to migrate to other parts. If 
 they had no particular grievance, they would tell that they were 
 good Indians and loved the whites, especially the soldiers. Then 
 they would ask for food. When the Indians had finished the 
 commanding officer's reply was interpreted to them, and re- 
 ceived with grunts of satisfaction or dissent. Sometimes an- 
 other talk was held on the following day, but they all ended 
 by an order on the commissary for several days' rations for 
 every member of the party. Sometimes the Indians prolonged 
 their stay and induced the commanding officer to grant them 
 a second issue of rations. By the time they reached the com- 
 missary store house, a number of the squaws were on hand 
 ready to receive the rations which consisted of bacon, flour or 
 hard bread (biscuits) in barrels, rice, beans, ground coffee and 
 sugar. No salt, pepper, vinegar, candles or soap was issued 
 to them. They had no use or desire for these particularly the 
 soap. 
 
 To watch the distribution of the rations, which were given 
 to them in bulk and in the original packages so far as possible, 
 was very amusing. At first everything received was carried to 
 a clear place some distance from the store house. The barrels 
 were carried as well as the boxes, for the Indians did not 
 
 84 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 understand about rolling them until some of the soldiers 
 showed them how to do it. The squaws, who represented fami- 
 lies, spread blankets or robes on the grass into which to receive 
 their share. Some of the Indians opened the barrels and boxes 
 awkwardly with tomahawks and knives and commenced the 
 division under the supervision of the chief, with a lot of jab- 
 bering from the squaws. They seemed to get along fairly 
 well with articles that could be counted, such as sides of bacon 
 or biscuits ; but coffee, sugar, rice, etc., they divided in smal' 
 cupfulls for each individual, until the supply was exhausted. 
 The squaws then shouldered the bundles and followed the 
 bucks back to their camp with happy expressions. 
 
 I have also seen one of our beef cattle issued to a large 
 party. The Indians would drive the frightened animal near 
 to their camp and kill him by shooting. Then the squaws 
 skinned him and cut him up, utilizing many parts of the car- 
 cass that a white man would throw away. 
 
 On the night when rations had been issued there was a feast 
 in camp. They gorged themselves, beat their drums, and sang 
 long after we soldiers had to retire after tattoo. 
 
 I distinctly remember my first visit to the Indian camp at 
 Fort Pierre, accompanied by some other soldiers. There were 
 about two dozen lodges. Half of them were visitors. The 
 others remained there permanently, and lived on what they 
 got from the soldiers and fur company employees. The latter 
 were a rather lazy lot and did but little hunting, so long as 
 they could get enough to eat around the fort. The first salute 
 we received was from a pack of wolfish-looking dogs of all 
 sizes which barked furiously but did not attempt to bite and 
 were easily shooed away. 
 
 We walked all through the camp and noted that there were 
 large, fine-looking teepees, decorated with Indian paintings of 
 animals, etc., on the exterior. These had an air of opulence 
 about them that seemed to indicate the owner to be the pos- 
 sessor of many squaws and ponies. There were also many 
 more teepees that were less pretentious and a few small, old 
 
 85 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and tattered ones that showed the poverty of the owner. It 
 was much like other villages the world over. The palace and 
 the hovel were in close proximity. Back of the teepees squaws 
 were cooking something in kettles hung on a pole, supported 
 over the fire by two forked sticks. They always cooked outside 
 until the weather got cold. Some children played and ran 
 around just as white children do. 
 
 The teepees were of tanned buffalo hides, closely sewed to- 
 gether with a strong thread made from the sinews of the same 
 animal. They were conical in shape and were upheld by a 
 number of long, slender but very strong poles, placed in a cir- 
 cle on the bottom at regular intervals and meeting on top where 
 they were interlocked. There was an opening above for the 
 smoke to escape. The entrance was through a slit on the side, 
 high enough for a man to pass through nearly upright and 
 spread apart on the bottom to make the passage easier. Over 
 this opening a piece of tanned hide was usually hung to keep 
 out the weather. These teepees could be kept warm and 
 comfortable in the coldest of weather, and were far more dur- 
 able than the best canvas tents. 
 
 We entered one of the best lodges without the formality of 
 knocking against the side of the opening and saying "How-ko- 
 ta," as we had not yet learned Indian etiquette. The interior 
 appeared dark at first after the bright sunlight ; but we distin- 
 guished the inmates to consist of several Indians, some squaws 
 and a few children. They all squatted onto robes spread 
 around the sides of the lodge, which formed their bedding. We 
 were apparently received in a friendly manner, and by words 
 and signs were invited to sit down among them. We squatted 
 like our hosts with our legs crossed. The Indians did not appear 
 to have been doing anything but conversing. Some of the 
 squaws, however, were sewing beads on mossacins. 
 
 The smaller children shrunk back and stared at us. Pres- 
 ently one of the bucks produced a long wooden stemmed pipe 
 of polished red stone, which he filled with kinnikinic, the In- 
 dians' substitute *f or tobacco, from a buckskin pouch and lit 
 
 86 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the pipe with a piece of punk ignited from a flint and steel. He 
 took five or six whiffs of the pipe very deliberately, and swal- 
 lowed all the smoke. Then he handed the pipe to a soldier on 
 his left. As he did this he began to exhale all the smoke he 
 had in him slowly through his nostrils. The soldier imitated 
 the Indian in taking a half a dozen whiffs, but he did not swal- 
 low the smoke. In this way the "Pipe of Peace" passed around 
 the circle from Indian to soldier, and soldier to Indian, myself 
 included. We understood enough not to offend against the 
 Indian custom of passing the pipe from mouth to mouth by 
 wiping the mouth piece. After the smoke there was an at- 
 tempt at talk of which neither party understood anything. The 
 young squaws watched us closely and giggled occasionally. I 
 tried to make one of them understand that I wanted a pair of 
 moccasins. She brought out a bundle of them, and showed me 
 some handsome ones. But we failed to make a bargain. I 
 had to make a few visits with an experienced person before I 
 learned to trade with them. 
 
 The kinnikinic that the Indians smoked was the bark of a 
 red willow that grew along the streams. They first removed 
 the outside red bark, then carefully scraped off the greenish 
 second bark with a knife without cutting into the wood. These 
 shavings were dried in the sun or before a fire. When crisp 
 they were rubbed into small particles between the hands. The 
 Indians were fond of mixing a little tobacco, cut up small, with 
 the bark, but I never saw them smoke pure tobacco, as they 
 could not inhale its smoke. The bark of the red willow, when 
 mixed with tobacco, made an agreeable, fragrant smoke. The 
 soldiers often used it. 
 
 Before we left the teepee we gave the Indians a generous 
 piece of plug tobacco which seemed to please them very much 
 and caused them to say, "Was-te-da," which means "good." 
 
 We entered several other lodges on this, our first visit, and 
 had more smokes. But I learned later that the smoking cere- 
 mony only took place on the first visit, and not on subsequent 
 calls, unless we brought with us a stranger who had not vis- 
 
 87 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ited the lodge before. We were received in a friendly way in 
 most of the lodges, yet once in a while we heard an ominous 
 growl from within and thought it best to keep out. 
 
 While many of the older Indians were very austere and dig- 
 nified in their intercourse with soldiers, the younger ones were 
 inclined to be droll, particularly the younger squaws, with 
 whom, on account of my youth I suppose, I seemed to become 
 a welcome visitor. I went to the Indian camp almost daily, 
 sometimes with a companion but more often without one. 
 
 Many of the soldiers became as much interested in the In- 
 dians as I was. We began to imitate them. We wore mocca- 
 sins when not on duty. We sometimes built a council fire back 
 of our quarters, around which we squatted after dark wrapped 
 in blankets like Indians. We smoked the "pipe of peace," and 
 we had "talks." There were some good mimics among us, who 
 could deliver a speech to the rest of the "warriors," which 
 neither the orator nor anyone else understood. We painted 
 our faces and imitated war dances with their accompanying 
 drum beats and chant, not forgetting to yell furiously at the 
 end. We called each other by the most ridiculous "Indian" 
 names. Mine was, "Why-a-so," but that was a real name 
 given to me by some of the young Indians and squaws. It 
 meant "musician." 
 
 We got up imitation war parties and scalped our helpless 
 prisoners or burned them at the stake. In fact, we were like 
 a lot of boys, and got plenty of fun out of it while the novelty 
 lasted. 
 
 I soon became interested in the Dakota language and tried 
 to learn all I could. I got a memorandum book and pencil. 
 When in a teepee I asked the names of various objects to which 
 I pointed. When these were given to me, I wrote them in my 
 book in phonetic spelling. When I read them off to the In- 
 dians on my next visit they were much interested and laughed 
 when I mispronounced a word. In this way I picked up quite 
 a vocabulary, but when it came to pronouns, adjectives and 
 verbs, my progress was slow. This was partly due to the va- 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 rious meanings of the same word. Numbers were easy for the 
 Dakotas could not count above ten. After that it was so many 
 tens and units. They generally kept a tally for any consider- 
 able number that was to be remembered by making notches on 
 a stick. I never attained any considerable proficiency in the 
 language, but I learned enough to ask simple questions and 
 make my wants known. I could understand the meaning of 
 much of what they said after I became a little familiar with 
 the many signs used when talking. Some of the Indians 
 evinced a desire to learn English and easily acquired some 
 nouns. But beyond that they could only imitate sounds with- 
 out understanding their meanings. This was taken advantage 
 of by some wags among the soldiers, who taught them to utter 
 the most ridiculous phrases. This never failed to provoke a 
 laugh, which seemed to please the Indians. 
 
 About the first thing I remarked in the Dakota language, 
 was that the. vowels a, e, i, o, and u, had the long Italian sound 
 in pronunciation, and that the greater part of the words, 
 whether nouns, pronouns, verbs, or adjectives, ended in a 
 vowel, which was always accented, and of which the following 
 are examples: 
 
 Buffalo Ta-tai-ka 
 
 Horse Shun-ka-ka 
 
 Dog Shun-ka 
 
 Blanket Shin-na-hota 
 
 Water Mi-ni 
 
 Whiskey Mi-ni- wa-ka 
 
 Silver Money Kash-pa-pi 
 
 Bread or Crackers Ak-yu-a-pe 
 
 Woman Wee-a 
 
 Plenty O-ta 
 
 Missouri River Mi-ni-tan-ka 
 
 Mississippi River Mi-ni-so-ta 
 
 I, thou, he Mi-a, Ni-a, Ee-a 
 
 Ride Ga-ki-a 
 
 Far Te-ha 
 
 Large Tan-ka 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Many signs were used by the Indians in their conversation, 
 as for instance, the phrase "Mi-a, ga-ki-a, te-ha, shun-ka-ka," 
 meaning "I am going to ride far," had to be accompanied by 
 the sign of straddling the first finger of the left hand with the 
 first two fingers of the right, to indicate riding on horseback. 
 Each tribe also had a sign by which the members could make 
 themselves known. That of the Dakotas was the drawing of 
 the open right hand across the throat from left to right. 
 
 Another peculiarity of the language was the total absence 
 of the consonant "R." I cannot recall a single word that had 
 any sound resembling that letter in it. 
 
 Early in November ice began to form on the edge of the 
 river in places where the current was not strong. The nights 
 were cold, and we found our blankets insufficient for comfort. 
 Buffalo robes and other furs were still fairly plentiful, and 
 could be had from traders or Indians at a very moderate price. 
 Many of the soldiers bought them to keep warm. I got a fine 
 large one in trade for about three dollars, also a deer skin for 
 two dollars. Old and worn robes could be had much cheaper. 
 
 The Indians who lived near the fort permanently soon 
 learned the value of money and how to spend it at the sutler's 
 store. They liked the bright silver dollars, for one of which 
 the squaws would sell us a pair of nice moccasins ornamented 
 with beads. A plainer pair could be had for half a dollar. 
 
 The army at the present time is very wisely supplied with 
 clothing suitable to the climate the soldiers are serving in. In 
 my time, however, the kind and quantity of clothing was the 
 same, whether you were stationed in Florida or Nebraska. Any 
 additional clothing we needed in that cold climate we were 
 obliged to provide and pay for ourselves. 
 
 By the latter part of November, the Missouri river was en- 
 tirely frozen over with ice thick enough for wagons to cross. 
 We had snow, but no great quantity as yet. The thin walls 
 of our pasteboard houses were covered on the inside with : 
 hoar-frost, which stayed there and grew thicker. We dug 
 deep trenches around the houses and banked up the earth 
 
 90 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 against them to make the floors warmer. One day we 
 had a furious wind storm, accompanied by drifting snow. 
 The roofs of some of the more exposed houses were 
 carried off and the sides blown in, fortunately without 
 serious damage to the inmates. Other houses were only 
 saved by the passing of ropes over the roofs and putting 
 braces against the sides. This was the beginning of a 
 period of suffering, which lasted until the following 
 spring and was the worst we had in the Dakota country. 
 After the storm it was realized that the frail houses, the scar- 
 city of fire wood and the bleak location, made Fort Pierre an 
 unsuitable place to winter troops. Therefore, one company 
 was ordered to a well wooded island below the fort, while 
 three companies, of which mine was one, were sent to build 
 log huts in the woods on the opposite side of the river, about 
 five miles above and within a mile of where the companies of 
 the Sixth Infantry and the two cavalry companies were lo- 
 cated. Two other companies, the headquarters and the band, 
 remained at Fort Pierre. They improved the houses they oc- 
 cupied with the debris from the houses that the storm had de- 
 stroyed. We put up tents near the river bank. A place about 
 a half mile back on higher ground was selected for the can- 
 tonment, where it was not likely to be overflowed by the rise 
 of the river in the spring. We cleared it of underbrush and cut 
 down the trees, mostly cottonwoods. There we commenced to 
 erect log huts. 
 
 We had been furnished with a lot of axes, large saws, crow 
 bars, picks and shovels by the quartermaster's department. 
 Every man not required for any other duty was put to work 
 on the huts. We worked with a will, for we suffered severely 
 from the constantly increasing cold in our tents, which we 
 could not heat. They were not "Sibley" tents, and we had no 
 iron stoves. The ground was frozen hard and the snow was 
 deep. Evenings, when our work was done and if the wind was 
 not too strong, we built large fires in the company streets in 
 front of the tents. Before these we warmed ourselves before 
 
 91 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 turning in for the night. Soon nearly every man's blue trous- 
 ers were scorched brown on the backs from standing too close 
 to the fires. Our clothing was insufficient. We had to wear 
 two shirts at one time and two pairs of trousers and stockings. 
 
 Although I was not required to work on the log huts, I did 
 so voluntarily to keep from freezing. I could not stay in the 
 tent without being covered up with my bedding, and I did not 
 wish to stand or sit around a fire all day, to be scorched on one 
 side and frozen on the other, while my eyes smarted with the 
 smoke. 
 
 We built two log cabins for each company in the roughest 
 way, leaving the bark on the logs, notching them at the angles, 
 and roughly cutting off the projections at the corners. We 
 sawed out an opening for one door and one window, and built 
 a wide fire place at one end opposite the end that was pierced 
 by the single window. We had great difficulty finding stone 
 enough to build the fire places, which were about six feet high 
 and had wooden chimneys plastered with mud. These chim- 
 neys gave us much trouble by constantly getting on fire. 
 
 The roofs we formed of split logs, laid with the split side 
 down on a pitch, and reaching from one wall to the other in a 
 single span. On this we put a thick layer of brush and shrub, 
 covered with about twelve inches of earth pounded down hard. 
 The cracks between the logs were chinked with wood and 
 daubed with mud. We had to build fires to take the frost out 
 of the ground before we could dig for our mud. When we 
 mixed it with warm water to the proper consistency for daub- 
 ing, it froze so quickly that we could not make the walls and 
 roof tight enough to keep the cold wind out. 
 
 The huts had a dirt floor. We constructed rude two-story 
 bunks of split logs along both sides, with a passage only six 
 feet between them. There was a little more space around the 
 fire place. There was no lumber of any kind for doors and no 
 sashes for windows, so we hung a piece of an old canvas 
 wagon cover over the door-holes, both inside and out. The 
 window opening we covered with a piece of white muslin 
 
 92 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 bought at the sutler's store. We built smaller single-room huts 
 for the officers and the married soldiers whose wives had been 
 left at Fort Pierre until the huts were ready for them. We 
 also built a kitchen for each company, with a bread oven in 
 it, some store houses, a small hospital and a guard house. We 
 did not build any messrooms. Each soldier had to go to the 
 kitchen for his rations and eat them in his quarters. 
 
 I think it was about the middle of December, when we broke 
 up our camp at the river and moved into the log huts at "Can- 
 tonment Miller," as it was officially named. The change was 
 for the better, but the huts proved to be very uncomfortable. 
 The stationary bunks took up so much of the room that we 
 were uncomfortably crowded and the place was dark. When 
 we started a fire the ground began to thaw out for some dis- 
 tance in front of the fireplace and turn to soft mud, but the 
 earth remained frozen hard at the other end of the room. The 
 fire had little effect on the cold air of the room in severe 
 weather, except in its immediate vicinity. We burned green 
 cottonwood, a very poor material for heating. While the logs 
 burned on one end the sap ran out at the other. We got some 
 ash and a little cedar wood, which was better, although we had 
 to go long distances for it. Details of men went out and 
 dragged in on home-made sleds the better kind of wood needed 
 for cooking and baking. Cottonwood was plentiful all around 
 us. 
 
 In January and February the thermometer sometimes 
 dropped to forty degree below zero, but when we made an un- 
 usually large fire the chimney caught fire. We had to keep 
 pails of water ready to extinguish the blaze. On very cold 
 nights the men took hourly turns to keep up the fire and to 
 watch the chimney. The snow was deep and drifted through 
 the chinks of our log huts. We often found large patches of 
 snow covering our bedding in the morning. 
 
 At supper-time every evening we got a loaf of bread which 
 the company baker had made that day. We put it into our 
 haversacks, which were hung against the wall of the hut. The 
 
 93 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 next morning it was frozen as hard as stone. We had to 
 knock off chunks with an axe and thaw them at the fire before 
 we could bite into them. Some of the men took their haver- 
 sacks to bed with them to keep their bread from freezing. 
 
 Three soldiers at Fort Pierre attempted to desert to the set- 
 tlements. They perished before they had gone a hundred 
 miles, and their skeletons were found the following summer 
 by a scouting party. 
 
 We hauled our water from the Missouri half a mile away. 
 The ice was more than three feet thick and the hole we had 
 cut through it to get at the water froze over every night and 
 had to be re-opened in the morning. 
 
 By this time we had accumulated plenty of furs. My bunkie, 
 Sergeant McMillan, and I possessed three buffalo robes, two 
 deer skins and some wolf skins. With these and four blankets, 
 we had a warm bed on the coldest nights. I had the company 
 tailor make a sort of a cloak for me from a buffalo skin, beaver 
 skin mittens and a cap with ear-laps. A squaw made a pair 
 of buffalo skin boots for me with the hair inside and large 
 enough to wear over my shoes. Most of the soldiers made 
 their own fur clothing, such as caps, mittens, coats and boots, 
 and produced some curious looking objects. One of them 
 made for himself a complete outfit of boots, pantaloons, jacket 
 and cap of buffalo skin with the hair outside. He presented 
 a weird picture when dressed in them and was given the name 
 of "Standing Buffalo." 
 
 We were permitted to wear anything we pleased on or off 
 duty, except at inspection or muster. These, however, took 
 place in the company quarters during the severest cold. To 
 expose ourselves, even for ten minutes on parade out of doors, 
 without furs, would have resulted in frost-bitten ears and 
 noses. The officers clothed themselves about the same as the 
 soldiers. There was a herd of beef cattle on our side of the 
 river and when the snow became too deep for them to find any 
 more prairie grass, and as there was neither forage nor hay 
 for them, they were driven into the woods to feed on the bark 
 
 94 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 of young trees. They began to die off rapidly from starvation 
 and exposure after the change. 
 
 The French-Canadian chief cattle-herder, who reported to 
 the commissary officer each day, would say in his peculiar 
 English, "M'sieu! One catt ees died! Two catt ees died!" as 
 the case might be. The carcasses were left where they died, 
 and were quickly devoured by the wolves. The wolves often 
 came around our quarters at night, attracted by the offal from 
 the kitchens. They howled hideously. We caught one occa- 
 sionally by an ingenious trap. After many of the cattle died, 
 the remainder were slaughtered. The meat was allowed to 
 freeze and was piled up in the store houses. There was scarce- 
 ly any trace of fat remaining. It was not nutritious. When 
 boiled it showed greenish-yellow streaks running through it 
 that made it repulsive. I could not eat any of it. When I 
 needed a change from pork or bacon, I got some pemican from 
 the Indians. Pemican is buffalo meat cut in thin slices, with- 
 out any fat, and dried in the sun without salting. It was nutri- 
 tious, but hard to chew. It could be pounded into a kind of 
 meal, and when mixed with pork- fat and fried in a pan, it was 
 an acceptable dish. This and a piece of game, when I could 
 get it, made an agreeable change in diet. 
 
 The cavalry companies lost more than one-third of their 
 horses during the long, severe winter. The shelter for the 
 horses was built of brushwood and there was no forage. 
 The men removed the snow where long dry grass was to be 
 found, and stripped the bark from young trees to feed the 
 horses. Some of the horses lost their ears or tails from frost- 
 bites. The mules stood the hardship better than the horses. 
 Mortality was not so great among them, but they also lost some 
 ears and tails. 
 
 About mid- winter, scurvy made its appearance. We had been 
 fed on a salt meat diet for nearly eight months and, with the 
 exception of a few wild fruits, had had no vegetables. Those 
 who were attacked became pale and listless. After awhile their 
 gums began to bleed and their teeth loosened. Their joints 
 
 95 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 swelled and the flesh became soft. If a finger was pressed 
 hard into the fleshy part of the arm, it left a dent that re- 
 mained for hours. We did not suffer so much from scurvy 
 at Cantonment Miller as did the soldiers at Fort Pierre. The 
 few serious cases we had we sent to the hospital there. Little 
 could be done for them, except to give them lime-juice, which 
 was among the medical stores. With great trouble some pota- 
 toes were obtained during the winter from the "States," as we 
 called it. These were given to the sick, raw, scraped fine and 
 mixed with vinegar and improved their condition very much. 
 However, a few men died of the diesase in the hospital at Fort 
 Pierre. In the early spring, when the snow melted, we dug 
 up roots that grew in the woods, a few inches below the ground 
 as we saw the squaws do. The roots resembled a thin sweet po- 
 tato in shape and were white in color. They could be eaten 
 raw or boiled and were quite mealy and palatable. Not know- 
 ing the proper name for these roots we called them artichokes. 
 The sick improved rapidly upon eating them, and as spring 
 progressed, they all recovered. 
 
 An Indian camp of about twenty lodges, belonging to the 
 Yonktonna tribe of the Dakotas, had located within easy dis- 
 tance of Cantonment Miller and remained there until the fol- 
 lowing spring. We soon had a well beaten path through the 
 deep snow leading to the camp. There I had the best oppor- 
 tunity during my entire service to observe the Indians closely 
 in their domestic relations. I became known to some of them 
 myself and made progress in the study of their language. For 
 a period of more than five months, I went to the camp very 
 often in the day time and sometimes in the evening. I often 
 remained for hours in one or two of some half a dozen lodges 
 which I had selected as my favorites, after having made the 
 round of the entire camp. The lodges had fires in them and 
 were warmer and more comfortable than our huts and never 
 ceased to interest me. The Indians seemed to have plenty to 
 eat and lived quite comfortably. They had stores of pemican, 
 corn, roots, dried fruits and buffalo tallow, which had been 
 
 96 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 melted and put into bladders for preservation. They also had 
 some game when the bucks went hunting. 
 
 I was invited to eat with them and did so a few times when 
 they had cooked meat of some sort; but I excused myself 
 when I saw any mysterious dish. I brought them some coffee 
 and sugar once in a while and showed the squaws how to make 
 coffee, of which they became very fond. When any of them 
 visited the cantonment, which happened almost daily, I often 
 gave those that I knew, part of my ration of bread for the 
 papooses, or a piece of tobacco for the bucks. This, in a meas- 
 ure, repaid their hospitality. A singular thing which I no- 
 ticed was that many of their children, from about three to 
 five years of age, had abnormally developed paunches, which 
 made them look ridiculous when they toddled almost naked 
 about the teepee. 
 
 When the children attained their fifth or sixth year they be- 
 came slender and graceful. I was told that an almost constant 
 meat diet was supposed to be the cause of their curious de- 
 velopment. 
 
 One day I saw a little toddler step into his father's dish of 
 food. The man, without a word of scolding, took off the 
 child's moccasin, scraped it clean with his horn spoon, then 
 dug a hole in the dirt floor beside his dish, buried and covered 
 up the scrapings and continued his meal, undisturbed by the 
 incident. 
 
 Both parents showed affection for their children, and in my 
 presence, at least, I never saw the Indians act with brutality 
 toward their squaws or children. The children had dolls and 
 played much as white children do. The older boys often prac- 
 tised shooting at a mark with a bow and arrow. They were 
 very shy with the soldiers and so were the wolfish looking 
 dogs. It was almost impossible to win the confidence of either. 
 Nevertheless, a soldier of company I got the consent of the 
 parents to take an Indian boy to our quarters and keep him 
 there. He made a suit of soldier's clothes for him and slept 
 with him all the winter. "Paddy," as we called him, became 
 
 97 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 quite a pet in the company and was learning English with a 
 comical Irish accent, acquired from his tutor, when his mother 
 came and took him away in the spring. At the same time the 
 rest of the Indians went away, and we never saw or heard of 
 him again. 
 
 The Indians played games among themselves, and the sol- 
 diers tried to teach them the use of cards, but they were un- 
 able to learn or understand the simplest of such games. We, 
 therefore, invented a special game for them, in which the 
 greatest number of spots on a card took the trick, for they 
 could count up to ten at least. They admired the Jacks more 
 than the Kings. They were the big chiefs and the Kings next. 
 Any card could beat the Queen, which was the "Wee-a" or 
 squaw. They took great interest in this game. I could do a 
 few simple tricks with cards, which mystified and amused 
 them. Some of them had a considerable sense of humor and 
 often laughed heartily. 
 
 I was shown some Indian scalps, which had long black hair 
 dangling from them. The skin was soft, and looked and felt 
 as though it had been tanned. To me it seemed very thick. I 
 do not know if they had any white scalps. If so, they never 
 showed us any. 
 
 Sometimes one of the Indians produced a buckskin bag or- 
 namented with beads, wherein he kept his most cherished 
 treasures, and drew therefrom a written paper, which some 
 white trader or hunter had given to him. This he would 
 proudly hand to us for examination. These papers were very 
 much of the same tone as this model: "O-kee-ha (red heart) 
 is a good and trustworthy Indian, and I recommend him to 
 anyone who wants a safe guide and a good hunter." One of 
 the Indians had several such papers, one of which he would 
 always show last. This had evidently been written by some 
 wag or, perhaps, a truthful man, and ran something like this : 
 "Beware of this Indian, Big Crow, he is a thief and a liar, and 
 will murder you if he gets a chance. Take warning !" As this 
 paper never failed to provoke a laugh, he no doubt set a 
 greater value on it than on all the others he owned. 
 
 96 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 When the weather was bad I sometimes watched the bucks 
 making arrows and pipes, while the squaws were industriously 
 employed on moccasins or some article of clothing. The mak- 
 ing of arrows was quite a delicate operation, with the few 
 tools they had. The stem of the arrow had to be true, straight 
 and balanced properly. The feathers must be carefully glued 
 on and the head firmly affixed with sinew, thread and gum. 
 Metal arrow heads were made by laboriously grinding pieces 
 of hoopiron, or the like, which they had picked up somewhere, 
 to the required size and shape. Other heads were made of 
 chipped flint. War arrow heads were made with sharp barbs 
 to prevent them from being easily extracted. 
 
 Some of the pipes they manufactured were plain, and others 
 handsomely inlaid with lead. They were made of a dense, 
 fine grained but soft working stone of a beautiful red color. 
 To obtain this stone they made long and weary journeys to 
 the Pipe Mountain, which was somewhere in the northern 
 part of Minnesota Territory. There, it is said, they prayed 
 to the Great Spirit before removing any of the stone which 
 they esteemed so highly. The pipes were carefully bored and 
 finished with a high polish, which took many hours of patient 
 labor. The long pipe stems were made of some tough, flexible 
 wood, the same that they made their bows of. They were 
 round or flat in shape, sometimes twisted, and the wood pol- 
 ished and ornamented. The hole through the stem was made 
 slowly and carefully with a piece of wire heated red hot. The 
 mouth piece was neatly tapered and rounded. These pipes 
 were a valuable article of trade. A fine pipe was worth a pony 
 in trade with the Indians in remote parts of the country. I 
 bought one and paid a good price for it. I had great difficulty 
 to persuade an Indian to sell me a piece of the stone to make a 
 pipe for myself. 
 
 I have at times witnessed the entire performance of an In- 
 dian feast. A squaw selected a fat-looking dog, and tied him 
 fast in some secluded place for several days, giving him noth- 
 ing to eat, and only water to drink. She then fed him with a 
 
 99 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 mixture of pemican and dried fruits made into a moist soft 
 paste, and let him eat all he could of it. This, I suppose, was 
 to serve as a stuffing or forcemeat, for she killed him by 
 knocking him on the head with a tomahawk, before digestion 
 commenced. His hind legs were then tied together, and he 
 was hung by a cord head down from a pole supported on two 
 forked sticks over a low fire. With a firebrand the squaw 
 burnt off every hair on his body close to the skin, and rubbed 
 him with buffalo fat. The squaw would sit for many hours 
 turning and basting the carcass with melted fat. The dog was 
 thus roasted whole, for he had not been disemboweled. In the 
 evening the family were joined by relatives and friends whom 
 they had invited. The teepee was well crowded when the feast 
 commenced. The dog was cut up, and all gorged themselves 
 to their full capacity. The most desired morsels seemed to be 
 the bowels and other soft parts. When the eating was over, 
 the squaws beat the drums, chanted songs, and all made merry 
 until long after we soldiers were in bed. I looked in at some 
 of these feasts and was invited to partake. Although it was 
 considered an honor, I declined. A few of the soldiers did eat 
 some roasted dog, and declared it tasted good. The Indians 
 preferred it to the finest venison. 
 
 There was a young soldier in my company, who became so 
 infatuated with the Indian life that he spent every spare min- 
 ute in their camp. He made great progress in learning their 
 language, and never missed a dog feast. He was a black haired, 
 dark-complexioned man, who tried to make himself look as 
 much like an Indian as possible by plucking out all the hair 
 that grew on his face. In the spring, when the Indians broke 
 camp and departed, he was missed a day or two later. We 
 learned that he had joined the tribe, but no effort was then 
 made to recapture him. 
 
 During the long, cold winter we got a mail from the "States" 
 about once in three weeks. It went to Fort Pierre and was 
 sent to us from there. 
 
 There was no sutler at Cantonment Miller. When we 
 
 100 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 wanted anything from the store, we had to go five miles to Fort 
 Pierre for it or have it brought by a comrade who made the 
 trip. 
 
 One calm sunny morning we had a few such days when 
 the thermometer was but a few degrees below zero, another 
 boy and I got a pass to go to the fort. Not anticipating any 
 change in the weather, we did not dress ourselves quite so 
 warmly as we should have done, for zero was considered a 
 comfortable temperature if the wind was not blowing, and we 
 discarded some of our heaviest furs when the temperature was 
 at that point or higher. We two boys crossed the Missouri on 
 the ice and walked down to the fort on the opposite side, which 
 was less hilly than the east bank. We made a few purchases 
 at the sutler's store, visited our friends and had dinner with 
 them. It became much colder early in the afternoon, and the 
 wind began to blow. We were admonished to return early, 
 which we did ; but by the time we had come about half way the 
 wind was blowing a gale and the cold was increasing. We 
 tried to cross the river and gain the woods on the other side, 
 but the bare ice was as slippery as glass. The fierce wind 
 knocked us over, and blew us like corks along on the ice. With 
 great exertion we crawled on shore and got into a ravine where 
 we were partly sheltered from the wind. Here we kept in 
 motion. There was no wood to make a fire and to sit down 
 meant freezing to death. We had our mittens and our fur 
 caps protected our ears, but our noses and cheeks turned white 
 with frost, and we rubbed them with snow several times. I 
 think we both feared that we would perish in that ravine, when 
 suddenly, as daylight began to fade, the wind died down and 
 we were able to proceed. We arrived at our quarters half 
 frozen, and it took some days to recover. 
 
 There was an officer at Cantonment Miller named James 
 Curtis who was the First Lieutenant of Company B. He 
 singled me out from among the boys and was most kind to me. 
 
 While stationed at Fort Pierre I had bought a flute from a 
 member of the band, and took lessons from him. As I under- 
 stood something about music and played on the fife, I made 
 
 101 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 rapid progress on the flute and had become a fair player when 
 Lieutenant Curtis asked me to come to his lonely cabin and 
 play duets with him. He was an excellent player, and had a 
 lot of music books, also works on history, science, etc. In fact, 
 he owned quite a little library, for he was a great student and 
 did not spend his time drinking whiskey and playing cards like 
 some of the other officers did. He loaned me books to read 
 and gave me lessons to study, which I recited to him and he 
 corrected my exercises. After these lessons we played music 
 until tattoo. This went on for there or four nights a week, 
 while we were at the cantonment. I learned more during that 
 time than during all my previous schooling. 
 
 Lieutenant Curtis was a graduate of West Point. Very 
 much to my regret he resigned his commission in the spring to 
 enter civil life. He rejoined the army in 1861, and served in 
 the West during the Civil War. I never met him again, and 
 do not know whether he is still living, but I remember him as 
 a man who befriended me when I was a boy, and I shall always 
 entertain the most profound feeling of gratitude toward him. 
 
 A contrast to Lieut. Curtis was the officer who commanded 
 the company which wintered on the island below Fort Pierre. 
 He was always more or less under the influence of liquor and 
 abused the men in his command. In one of his drunken fits 
 he shot a private of his company, wounding him so severely 
 the man died a few days after. A pretense of an investigation 
 was made. It was called an accident and hushed up, though 
 the man was deliberately shot while lying in his tent after he 
 had had some words with the officer. Two years later his 
 slayer died wretchedly of delirium tremens at another military 
 post. 
 
 In the early part of April we were startled one night by loud 
 reports like the firing of a heavy cannon. This was caused by 
 the cracking of the thick ice, which began to break up and 
 move in a day or two and afforded an interesting spectacle. 
 Some time later the river began to rise until it overflowed its 
 banks, and was miles wide in the low lands. Then there came 
 
 102 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 drift wood in enormous quantities. For several days at a time 
 the river would be covered with it from shore to shore at the 
 narrower places. It seemed as though a man could walk across 
 on the floating logs. The high water continued for a long time. 
 It fell very slowly and some time in May it seemed stationary 
 for a while as the snows melted much further north. We were 
 cut off from all communication with Fort Pierre for a time, 
 until boats could cross the river after the flood subsided. 
 
 The Indians began to make preparations for departure. The 
 squaws were busy dressing such skins as they had not tanned 
 before cold weather. This they did by stretching them on an 
 upright framework made of poles lashed together. Then they 
 scraped them thin with a steel scraper and treated them wtih 
 a preparation that made them soft and pliable. 
 
 About the first week in May, when their ponies had attained 
 a fair condition, they struck their tents one day and disap- 
 peared over the hills. 
 
 We received orders to abandon Cantonment Miller and re- 
 turn to Fort Pierre, where all of General Harney's troops were 
 to be assembled for a great treaty that was soon to be made 
 there with the Indians. We crossed the river in a Mackinaw 
 boat belonging to the American Fur Company. These were 
 large, flat-bottomed boats with tapering prows and square 
 sterns. They were used by the company to carry furs from 
 its more northern posts on the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers. 
 
 We went into camp after we crossed the river as it was too 
 late to march to Fort Pierre that day, and had just finished 
 putting up our tents, when a tremendous wind storm struck us. 
 It blew down the tents and scattered them as well as every 
 other movable article over the prairie. It was all over in a 
 short time, but we slept without tents that night. Next day 
 after picking up all of the articles we could find, and loading 
 them on wagons, we marched to Fort Pierre and went into 
 permanent camp close to the stockade. Within a few days all 
 of the troops had assembled, and encamped there. 
 
 In March General Harney had sent messages to all the tribes 
 
 103 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 of the Dakotas, to assemble at Fort Pierre on May twentieth 
 for a council treaty. 
 
 The Indians had some way of noting the date, probably by 
 tally on a stick of wood. I think that representatives from al! 
 the Dakotas were present on that day, except the B rules and 
 the Ogallalas, who had been so severely punished the previous 
 September. 
 
 The Indians began to arrive about ten days before the ap- 
 pointed time, and soon the great plain about Fort Pierre was 
 dotted with nearly a thousand teepees. 
 
 Each of the tribes had a large representation of men, women 
 and some children. It was estimated that seven thousand were 
 present, of whom one-third were warriors. It was a grand 
 spectacle, such an assemblage of Indians had not been seen 
 for many years. Among them were proud and magnificent 
 savages who had traveled long distances to be present. 
 
 As soon as the arriving Indians became numerous, we were 
 forbidden to visit their camp. Neither were the Indians al- 
 lowed within the sentinel lines of ours. At night the sentry 
 posts were doubled and extra ammunition was issued. We 
 practically slept on our arms while the council lasted, for their 
 warriors outnumbered us at least three to one. Our garrison 
 and camp were open to an attack from all sides, and the temper 
 of so great a bocty of Indians was very uncertain. 
 
 On the appointed day the council commenced. At first only 
 a few hundred of the chiefs and other head men of the tribes 
 were present. The council was held outside of the stockade, 
 the Indians sitting on the grass in a semi-circle facing the Gen- 
 eral. With the commandant were some other officers, clerks 
 and interpreters, a few orderlies and a small guard of soldiers. 
 These were all on a slightly raised platform, the officers being 
 seated in front. The dignified, white-haired general was in 
 the center and his imposing figure towered above all the others. 
 
 We could only view the council from a distance, as sentinels 
 kept us beyond a certain boundary. But we could observe the 
 dramatic gestures of the Indian orators and hear the grunts 
 
 104 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 of approval. What the great talk was all about we did not 
 know. 
 
 The council went on in this way for three to four days. 
 On the fourth or fifth day the meeting commenced earlier, 
 and nearly all the warriors, to the number of several thou- 
 sand, were present. They were painted, and their lustrous 
 dark skins glistened in the bright sunlight when they had 
 cast off their robes and blankets. It was a sight long to be 
 remembered, and the like of it was probably never seen in 
 after years. On this day a treaty of peace was concluded. 
 The Indians buried the hatchet, as it was customary to say. 
 The Sioux War was over, and during our stay in their 
 country we had no more serious trouble with them. It was 
 only after the withdrawal of the regular soldiers to take part 
 in the Civil War that they became unruly again, and com- 
 mitted atrocities among the settlers of Minnesota in 1862. 
 
 On the night of the day when the treaty had been con- 
 cluded there seemed to be a great "pow-wow" in the Indian 
 camp. We could hear the tom-toms, and the voices of the 
 bucks and squaws until early morning. On the following 
 afternoon we were treated to a remarkable sight. Two thou- 
 sand Indians marched to the stockade, where General Har- 
 ney had his headquarters, and saluted his appearance by 
 blowing on reed musical instruments made from willows 
 which grew abundantly along the river. At the same time a 
 large number of squaws beat on drums. The curious noise 
 could be heard for miles around. 
 
 While the council was on, the first steamboat of the sea- 
 son or "wa-ta-pe-ta-choo-choo," as the Indians called it, ar- 
 rived. It was the Genoa, which had brought my company 
 up the river the previous summer. With her arrived a pay- 
 master and Lieutenant Gouverneur K. Warren, who later com- 
 manded the Fifth Army Corps in the Civil War. He was to 
 make surveys in the Dakota country and was accompanied by 
 some scientists. My regiment furnished him with an escort, 
 who traveled with him until fall. He returned the follow- 
 ing season and continued his surveys. 
 
 105 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Many of the Indians present had never seen a steamboat. 
 Hundreds of them and their squaws lined the river bank, when 
 the Genoa was sighted. They noted the puffs of steam ejected 
 by her engines, and declared that the wa-ta-pe-ta was puffing, 
 out of breath, and tired out after her long journey. 
 
 The Indians had brought great quantities of furs with them, 
 and trading with the American Fur Company and the sutler 
 was brisk. The Genoa on her return trip could carry only 
 a part of the vast quantity of furs the company had accumu- 
 lated. Some of the Indians departed a few days after the treaty 
 was made. Others lingered for a while, but in about two 
 weeks nearly all had disappeared. When their numbers had 
 materially diminished, restrictions against visiting their camps 
 were withdrawn, and I had interesting experiences in observ- 
 ing the customs and manners of some far away tribes, whom 
 I was not likely ever to see again. 
 
 About the first of June orders were issued to abandon Fort 
 Pierre, as it was most unsuitable for a military post. The 
 troops who had come from Fort Laramie in the fall returned 
 there, and of my regiment four companies and the band took 
 up their march to a point on the Missouri, a few hundred 
 miles below Fort Pierre, where they built a post called Fort 
 Randall. The other two companies, B and D, marched to 
 a place on the Missouri, midway between Forts Pierre and 
 Randall, to establish Fort Lookout. 
 
 The remaining portable houses at Fort Pierre were taken 
 down and with other materials were put on rafts and floated 
 down the river to be re-used in building quarters at the two 
 new posts. 
 
 Our experience since we arrived at Fort Pierre had been 
 very trying through the incompetency or carelessness of some 
 one in authority. We were ill prepared for the rigors of so 
 severe a climate as to clothing, food, quarters and medical 
 stores. Men died from exposure and from scurvy, and many 
 animals succumbed to starvation. Officers and soldiers suf- 
 fered alike. The miserable huts in which we lived during 
 
 106 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the winter were unfit for stables. We almost froze in them, 
 and when the spring came, the mud roofs leaked like sieves. 
 
 I look back upon the winter passed at Fort Pierre as one 
 of great suffering and hardship, by far the worst that I 
 went through during my service. 
 
 107 
 
PART V. 
 ESTABLISHING FORT LOOKOUT, 1856-1857. 
 
 COMPANIES B and D left Fort Pierre the first week 
 in June, 1856, on their way to the site upon which 
 Fort Lookout was to be built. Captain Nathaniel 
 Lyon of Company B, being the ranking officer, was in com- 
 mand. Captain Gardner of my company and three lieu- 
 tenants were the only other officers present. The details of 
 this march, although a short one, will serve, except as to 
 special incidents, as a description of all other marches that 
 we made on the prairies. 
 
 We ascended the hills west of Fort Pierre to gain the 
 higher tableland in order to avoid the many ravines and 
 small creeks that flowed into the Missouri river, which we 
 did not sight again until we reached our destination. The 
 order of march for large or small columns of troops was 
 as follows : First came the guides, either Indians, half-breeds 
 or hunters, riding on ponies some distance in advance and 
 sometimes going ahead for miles to search for a suitable 
 point to ford a stream or locate a camp. When no guides 
 were present the desired direction was kept by means of a 
 compass, for there were no roads, nothing but an occasional 
 trail, made by Indian travoys which the weather soon ob- 
 literated. At times there was not a hill, tree nor bush in 
 sight. Only flat or rolling prairie land met the eye all day 
 long, and it was easy to lose direction on a cloudy day with- 
 out a compass. Officers in command of troops marching 
 through an unknown country were obliged to keep a journal 
 and draw rough maps of the route, showing the water courses, 
 
 109 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 springs, hills, woods, camping places and all points worthy 
 of notice, also the approximate distances between them. 
 These journals and maps were afterwards forwarded to the 
 War Department, to serve for future information. 
 
 After the guides, our small column was led by Captains 
 Lyon and Gardner and one of the lieutenants, another lieu- 
 tenant was in the rear of the column, and the acting quar- 
 termaster was with the wagon train. All of the officers were 
 mounted, some at their own expense on ponies they had 
 bought from the Indians, as in an infantry regiment the regu- 
 lations only allowed horses and forage for the colonel, major, 
 surgeon, adjutant and quartermaster, or for officers tem- 
 porarily acting as such. For a year or more we had no medical 
 officer, only a hospital steward. There was but little sickness, 
 and we got along very well without a doctor. Following the 
 leading officers, came the musicians, and we boys were rather 
 proud to be able to set the pace for the entire column. Be- 
 hind us marched the soldiers by fours at a route step carrying 
 their arms "at will." The company in advance to-day was 
 the rear company to-morrow. Following the soldiers was 
 the wagon train and behind that marched the camp guard, 
 bringing up the rear. We never carried any knapsacks on 
 this kind of marches on the frontiers. We always had wagons 
 enough to carry the tents, knapsacks, provisions and forage. 
 Each soldier carried his arms and accoutrements, his canteen 
 and his haversack, which contained only enough provisions 
 for a noon-day meal. The musicians carried only a sword, 
 canteen and haversack. 
 
 The speed at which we marched was generally about three 
 miles per hour, or less, if the route was hilly or the march- 
 ing difficult. About every five miles we halted for a rest of 
 fifteen or twenty minutes with a somewhat longer rest in 
 the middle of the day. The distance we marched each day 
 averaged less than twenty miles, but it -was irregular, for 
 camping places had to be selected with an eye to obtaining 
 wood and water. Some days we marched only about fifteen 
 
 110 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 miles while on others we had to make more than twenty- 
 five. On a few occasions we camped on the prairie, where 
 there was neither wood nor water. We brought a scant supply 
 with us in our wagons from the previous camp. Buffalo 
 chips (dung) were sometimes used instead of wood and made 
 a sufficiently hot fire to cook with. 
 
 The army wagons had canvas covers and looked something 
 like the "Prairie Schooners" used by the emigrants in cross- 
 ing the plains. There was a seat and a locker across the 
 front and a detachable feed-box across the rear. They were 
 provided with strong brakes. A team of six mules was 
 hitched to each wagon, the pair in front were called "leaders," 
 and were the smallest mules in the team, next came the 
 "swings," a little larger and last the "wheelers," which were 
 the largest and strongest mules of the lot. One of the wheel 
 mules had a saddle on him on which the driver was mounted, 
 who, with only a single line and the aid of a long whip, drove 
 the team. 
 
 The drivers were generally citizen employes of the Quarter- 
 master's Department, if they could be had, or soldiers who 
 volunteered for the job. These were detailed on "extra duty," 
 as it was called. Twenty-five cents per day from the quarter- 
 master was added to their regular monthly pay, for which 
 they were obliged to sign a roll. One of them wrote Thomas 
 O'Brien, M. D., and when asked to explain the meaning of 
 the two letters after his name, said they stood for mule driver. 
 It was hard work driving mule teams where there were no 
 roads. Steep hills and deep declivities, streams and water 
 courses, soon made most of the drivers experts in profanity. 
 They had names for all their mules, and we often heard one 
 of them urging his team through a bad place with such words 
 of encouragement as these: "Now, Mary Jane! pull like a 
 good girl ; pull, girl !" or "You, there, Pete ! you black-hearted 
 , I'll cut the hide off you, if you don't pull !" 
 
 On marches, reveille was sounded at day-break or even 
 earlier if there was a long day's march ahead. Immediately 
 
 111 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 after roll call we had our breakfast of salt pork or bacon, 
 hard-tack and black coffee, which the company cooks had 
 already prepared at their camp fire. Then the "General" was 
 beaten by one of the drummers. This was the signal to 
 "strike tents" and pack the wagons. Soon after sunrise we 
 formed ranks and marched off. This was the time when we 
 felt fresh after a good night's rest. There was talking, laughing 
 and joking in the ranks. Sometimes a song was started 
 and many joined in the chorus. 
 
 After about two hours of marching this exhilaration grad- 
 ually died down and when the sun got high and began to 
 scorch us for it could be as hot in the summer on the plains 
 as it was cold in winter the voices were stilled. We trudged 
 on noiselessly save for the rattling of the tin cups and can- 
 teens or the sharp rebuke of one soldier to another, who had 
 perhaps jostled him, which was always annoying to a 
 weary man. 
 
 The officers also enjoyed the cool of the morning. After 
 the column had marched a while, I was often called by one 
 of them to ride his horse, while he marched four or five miles. 
 I would very much have preferred this ride at the end of 
 the march when I would have enjoyed the rest. But I was 
 always a good marcher and sometimes, when I felt like fall- 
 ing out, my pride kept me up until we reached camp. 
 
 The first day's march revealed the presence of a flat-footed 
 man in the command who could not march more than a few 
 miles, after which he had to ride in one of the wagons. He 
 was discharged as soon as transportation to the settlement 
 could be had. Sick or exhausted soldiers were permitted to 
 ride in the wagons. 
 
 So fiercely did the rays of the sun beat down on the hot 
 prarie, that during our brief periods of rest, we often crawled 
 under the wagons, grateful for their slight shade even for a 
 short time. If we came to a stream that could be forded we 
 took off our shoes and stockings and sometimes our trousers, 
 and waded across. If the current was strong we grasped each 
 
 112 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 other to avoid being swept off our feet. On the opposite 
 side we generally halted long enough to refill our canteens 
 and rest. 
 
 At times we had to cross a river too deep for fording. Then 
 the crossing meant several days of hard labor. It was accom- 
 plished by taking the wagons apart and making boats out of 
 their bodies. This was done by enveloping the wagon bodies 
 in several thicknesses of the canvas wagon covers. When the 
 crude boats would float, some men swam across pulling a 
 stout rope after them. They secured it on the other side to 
 guide the boats in crossing. In this way we established ferries 
 capable of taking all the men and freight to the other side. 
 The horses and mules were forced to swim over. A few 
 minor accidents occurred, but in the main the crossing was 
 successfully although slowly made, as these canvas pontoon 
 boats could carry but little at each trip. 
 
 On a few occasions we saw a herd of buffalo while on 
 the march, but never got near them. We seldom met any 
 Indians on the routes we traveled. 
 
 When we had a short day's march, we got into camp before 
 noontime if the route had been favorable, but if we had to 
 march twenty-five miles or more, it was the middle of the 
 afternoon or much later before we finally halted. The first 
 thing we did was to stack arms and lie down in the shade, 
 if there was any. Tired out, we went to sleep while waiting 
 for the wagons to come up. At the end of the day's march 
 they were often some miles behind. They could not always 
 make the short cuts that we could. When the wagons arrived 
 we unpacked them and erected our tents. Practice made us 
 experts at this. The cooks started a fire and prepared a meal, 
 while the teamsters parked the wagons, unhitched the tired 
 mules, watered and fed them, and then picketed them on the 
 prairie to graze and rest. 
 
 The officers had wall-tents for their use, with a tent fly over 
 them, which made them quite comfortable and cool when the 
 sides were turned up. The soldiers had "Sibley" tents at that 
 
 113 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 time, which were better than the small "A" tents previously 
 used. These tents were the invention of Col. Henry W. Sib- 
 ley of the United States Army. They were patterned after 
 the Indian teepee, but differed from them in that but one 
 tent pole was required. This fitted into the socket of a wrought 
 iron tripod in the centre of the tent and upheld the shelter. 
 A hood on top could be opened to emit the smoke from a 
 sheet iron stove in cold weather. These tents, conical in shape, 
 were large enough to shelter a dozen men without crowding. 
 
 When the tents had all been set up in "streets," we fished or 
 went in bathing if the water was suitable. Fish were gen- 
 erally plentiful and were a welcome addition to our rations. 
 At times we washed our clothing in the streams, for the laun- 
 dresses did not perform that work on a march and were never 
 with the troops except when changing stations. On these 
 occasions they and their children rode in the wagons. 
 
 Our canteens were made of tin covered with felt, and held 
 about three pints. An old soldier taught me to fill my can- 
 teen with water in the evening, saturating the felt covering 
 thoroughly. By hanging it up exposed to the air during the 
 night, the water would be kept cool until morning. Next day 
 I was careful to keep the canteen on my shady side while 
 marching. In this way I had a cool drink for a much longer 
 time. Sentinels were posted about the camp and the wagons 
 at night. We had an early tattoo and slept soundly until 
 daybreak next morning. Rainy days added much to our dis- 
 comfort while marching and made it necessary to make camp 
 on soaked ground while our clothing was drenched. 
 
 We had half a dozen dogs with us on the march to Look- 
 out, for dogs love soldiers. In the cool part of the morning 
 they ran all over the prairie chasing birds or prairie dogs, and 
 tired themselves out before the march was half done. When 
 we halted for a rest they went to sleep, and it was difficult 
 to make them go on again, except one wise dog who always 
 trotted at the head of the column with the musicians and 
 never wasted his energy in running around the prairie. At 
 
 114 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 times these dogs became a nuisance. They sometimes got to 
 a small pond or water-hole ahead of us, and by swimming 
 around in it roiled the water until it was unfit to drink. 
 
 Our last day's march was long and hard, but we cheered 
 up when in the middle of the hot afternoon we sighted the 
 Missouri River about five miles away. It was hundreds of 
 feet below us, for we were up on a high range of hills, which 
 the wagons were able to descend only by making long detours. 
 
 We encamped on a shady spot near the river bank and re- 
 mained there for two days while Captain Lyon and another 
 officer explored the region for the most suitable place for 
 the new post. Captain Lyon finally selected a spot three miles 
 below our camp and thirty miles south of the Big Bend of 
 the Missouri River. We moved there at once and encamped 
 until our quarters were completed in the fall. 
 
 The site for Fort Lookout was well chosen. The river 
 channel was on that side and the banks high enough not to 
 be overflowed. The wooded bottom land extended two hun- 
 dred yards back from the river, then ascended fifty feet 
 above the water in an easy grade to a plateau. Two small 
 water courses in ravines at right angles to the river and about 
 half-a-mile apart drained the plateau on which the post was 
 to be built. About a mile west of the river the land became 
 rugged and hilly. There were plenty of woods in sight along 
 the river bank as far as we could see. 
 
 Captain Nathaniel Lyon of Company B, Second United 
 States Infantry, the commanding officer under whose direc- 
 tion Fort Lookout was to be built, was a native of Connecti- 
 cut. He was of average size with sandy hair and beard. His 
 voice had a distinct nasal twang. He was a graduate of 
 West Point and had served in the Mexican War and in 
 Florida. He was a strict disciplinarian, conscientious, patri- 
 otic and as strong an "Abolitionist" as Captain Gardner of 
 my company was a "Pro-Slavery" advocate. Nevertheless 
 the two captains seemed to get along very well on duty, but 
 outside of that did not associate much. Captain Gardner 
 
 115 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 usually had his tent put up at some distance from Captain 
 Lyon's, who kept very much to himself and seemed to pass 
 his time in reading and writing. 
 
 Captain Lyon was of a most peculiar temperament. While 
 he preserved a fatherly attitude toward his company and saw 
 to their comfort, he was very exacting. The least infringe- 
 ment of rules, which other officers would not notice, he would 
 punish. He seldom put any of his men in the guardhouse, 
 except for some serious offense; but punished them by mak- 
 ing them do menial duties or by having them march in front 
 of the company quarters where he could observe them, carry- 
 ing a log or a heavily loaded knapsack or with a barrel over 
 their shoulders, the head sticking out of the top. He had 
 punishments to fit every grade of offense, most of which were 
 of his own invention. However, he seldom court-martialed 
 any of his men, though some of them would have preferred 
 that to the humiliating punishments they received. When 
 the war broke out, Captain Lyon was in command of the 
 arsenal at St. Louis, Mo., which he saved to the Government. 
 He broke up the rebel "Camp Jackson" under General Frost, 
 defeated the troops under Governor Jackson at Booneville 
 and fought the battle of Wilson's Creek, Mo., against superior 
 numbers under Generals McCulloch and Price. He was killed 
 in that battle on August tenth, 1861, while he was in com- 
 mand of the Union troops with the rank of brigadier-general. 
 General Lyon did much to save the State of Missouri to the 
 Union and in his early death, the Government lost a loyal 
 and efficient officer. One of the last requests that General 
 Lyon made just before his death was that "First Sergt. Griffin 
 of his old company which was present at the battle should 
 receive a commission as Lieutenant," which was granted. 
 
 As soon as our camp was permanently established at the 
 top of the slope leading towards the river, we prepared to 
 erect the necessary buildings. Gangs of men were sent into 
 the woods to cut trees, trim them and haul in the logs. 
 
 Others were set to work making bricks for the chimneys 
 
 116 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and bake ovens out of some suitable clay and sand that had 
 been discovered near the river bank. The bricks were made 
 in moulds and burnt in the usual way. They answered their 
 purpose very well. Every man not required for guard duty 
 was set to work either as a mechanic or a laborer at "extra 
 duty". Carpenters, framers, masons and all other mechanics 
 received forty cents per day and the laborers twenty-five 
 cents per day, extra pay for ten hours' work. The mechanics 
 remained at their work, but the laborers took turns at guard 
 duties. I was put on extra duty myself for a while as a 
 time-keeper and messenger and was rated and paid as a 
 laborer. 
 
 Presently the raft which had been made up at Fort Pierre 
 arrived and was unloaded and taken apart. About the first 
 of July a steamboat came in with a full cargo for Fort Look- 
 out, consisting of military stores and some building materials, 
 such as doors, sashes, hardware, shingles, lime, etc. She also 
 landed three citizen employes, a master-mechanic to take 
 charge of construction and two carpenters. There were in 
 addition some goods for the sutler, who came to establish 
 himself. A cow and some hogs were put ashore consigned 
 to Captain Lyon. To put this cargo in a suitable place on 
 shore and protect it from the elements until store houses could 
 be built, occupied some time. A small herd of beef cattle 
 also arrived, having been driven up from the settlements. 
 
 One of the first things the master-mechanic did was to 
 erect a whip-saw for getting out flooring and roofing boards. 
 This saw was worked by two men, one above and the other 
 below the elevated log. It was slow, laborious work. He 
 next made a plan for quarters for three companies, for 
 another company was to join us later in the season. He 
 directed the carpenters and framers to hew the logs square 
 and cut them into suitable lengths to form the walls of the 
 houses, which were built large enough to hold a company 
 apiece comfortably. They had the luxury of doors, windows 
 and brick chimneys, a wooden floor and a shingled roof, but 
 
 117 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 no ceiling. Log houses were built for the married soldiers, 
 for company kitchens, a hospital, a bakery, the adjutant's 
 office, the guard house and storehouses, but they were put 
 up to be warm and comfortable and had brick fire places, 
 doors and windows, wood floors and shingled roofs, the same 
 as the quarters. For the officers the portable houses rafted 
 down from Fort Pierre were re-erected, but made much 
 stronger. The exterior walls were double with a filled space 
 between them, which made them warmer. Chimneys and 
 fireplaces were tfuilt. We built no company mess-rooms, leav- 
 ing that to be done next year as we already had undertaken 
 all we could possibly accomplish before cold weather. 
 
 Captain Lyon was quite busy for a time in outlining the 
 post and locating the various buildings. He seemed very 
 anxious about getting the post lined exact and true to the 
 cardinal points, which he found a difficult task in the absence 
 of proper instruments. He had a factotum named Charley 
 Breen who was his valet, cook, hostler and assistant surveyor. 
 When the captain went out on several nights to observe the 
 north star for hours, he always took Charley who carried a 
 lantern. Next day the lines were changed again. We had 
 many a laugh with Charley about hunting for the north star 
 with a lantern. 
 
 Captain Lyon laid out Fort Lookout in generous dimensions. 
 Perhaps he had orders to do so. He occupied ground enough 
 for about two regiments, the parade ground was large enough 
 to manoevure a brigade of troops. The plan was a parallel- 
 ogram in shape except at the west end where the officers' 
 houses formed a semicircle. The east end near the river was 
 square and there were located the guard house and store 
 houses. 
 
 On the long sides were the company quarters, two on the 
 south and one on the north side. They looked very lonely 
 in that vast space. It was much more than a quarter mile 
 from the guard house on the east to the officers' quarters in 
 the west, and nearly half that across the parade ground be- 
 
 118 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 tween the company quarters from north to south. These 
 great distances proved to be very inconvenient in winter, 
 when the snow was deep and much time had to be consumed 
 in relieving the widely scattered sentinels. 
 
 Uninterrupted progress was made all through the summer. 
 We had no trouble with the Indians, in fact none came near 
 us until fall, when they began to appear and dance for rations. 
 The only soldiers who were absent from the fort were a small 
 escort under a non-commissioned officer with Lieutenant 
 Warren and his party who were surveying and mapping some 
 of the Dakota country. They approached within a few hun- 
 dred miles of the place where the National Yellowstone Park 
 is now located, but did not seem to have ever heard of that 
 wonderful region. It appeared to be unknown at that time. 
 We never heard hunters or trappers speak of it, and if the 
 Indians knew of it, they kept their knowledge to themselves. 
 
 A comet was visible for many weeks during the summer, 
 larger and more brilliant and with a longer tail than any I 
 have seen since. Unfortunately we had no opportunity to 
 learn in what way the Indians regarded this phenomenon. 
 
 In the month of August, Company K arrived from Fort 
 Ripley after a strenuous march. They crossed the Missouri 
 at Fort Pierre in Mackinaw boats and from there came down 
 the west bank to Fort Lookout. This company was much 
 harassed by the Chippawa Indians, while marching through 
 their country, though no direct attack was made. One soldier 
 was stabbed to death by an Indian at a spring near one of 
 their camps, where he had gone alone to fill his canteen. 
 A sad accident occurred on this march. One sentinel shot 
 another dead, mistaking him for an Indian because of his 
 wearing a blanket on a cool night while on post. 
 
 Company K brought two Indian guides and their squaws 
 with them; also an interpreter and his squaw. This inter- 
 preter proved to be the young man from my company who 
 had deserted from Cantonment Miller about sixteen months 
 before to join the Indians. Why he took the risk to come 
 
 119 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 back in our direction I cannot imagine, unless he was mis- 
 informed at Fort Pierre in regard to the whereabouts of his 
 old company. He was much changed, but was recognized in 
 spite of his Indian make-up. He was arrested and put in 
 the guard house, which at this time was a tent from which he 
 escaped easily on the second night, and we never heard of 
 him again. 
 
 Brevet Major George W. Patten, whom I have previously 
 described, was in command of Company K. He wrote an 
 able article about the march from Fort Ripley, which was 
 published in Harper's Magazine. As Major Patten ranked 
 Captain Lyon, he took command of Fort Lookout on his 
 arrival, but Captain Lyon continued to superintend the build- 
 ing of the post. 
 
 During the summer Capt. Lyon got an idea that some other 
 drink besides the Missouri river water would be good for the 
 men, and he started in to make what he intended to be spruce 
 beer. He put us boys to work gathering cactus plants, wild 
 hops, sprigs of spruce and a few other plants of his own 
 selection. Then he made us mash the cactus to a pulp and 
 boil the entire mixture in camp kettles, adding water, some 
 molasses and vinegar. We then strained it and put it into 
 barrels. Under the Captain's supervision it took us a week 
 to make three or four barrels, for, according to his habit, he 
 fussed and spent as much of his time over it as he would 
 have given to an important matter. When this hodge-podge 
 was brewed it was offered to the soldiers. One drink was 
 enough to satisfy most of them. If they took any more they 
 were likely to be unfit for duty next day, but not from any 
 intoxicating qualities of the mixture. When it began to fer- 
 ment it threw off such a sickening odor and tasted so vile 
 that no one would drink it. Cactus was plentiful in the 
 vicinity. Some of it bore delicious and succulent prickly- 
 pears. Wild plums and grapes were also plentiful. 
 
 One night we were startled by the sound of a shot that 
 came from the direction of Post No. 3, a short distance from 
 
 120 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 camp. There were cries of "Corporal of the guard, Post No. 
 3 !" and for a few moments there was great excitement. 
 
 It turned out that the sentinel on that post had shot off 
 the little finger of his left hand. He explained that he was 
 carrying his rifle across the back of his neck, with the left 
 hand over the muzzle and the right on the lock "when the 
 durned thing went off/' 
 
 We suspected that he did it on purpose, hoping to get his 
 discharge from the army for physical disability. If so, he 
 was not liberal enough with his self mutilation, for the sacri- 
 fice of his little finger did not procure his discharge. 
 
 Near the end of summer another steamboat on the way to 
 Fort Pierre stopped and unloaded some more stores, including 
 a quantity of potatoes, onions and turnips to prevent a re- 
 occurrence of scurvy. This steamer also brought a second 
 lieutenant to join one of our companies. He was one of the 
 appointees from civil life the only one at the post. He hailed 
 from one of the southern states and, for a soldier, was the 
 most ungainly, awkward and unmilitary figure that I ever 
 saw. He was a young man, so excessively tall that he stooped 
 over and so thin that he barely cast a shadow. He had a 
 glass eye that had a roving disposition. It gave him a very 
 droll appearance. He was quite ignorant of military matters 
 and at his first appearance on parade as officer of the day 
 appeared wearing his sash over the wrong shoulder. Major 
 Patten appointed him Post Adjutant shortly after his arrival, 
 in derision, I think. 
 
 At guard mounting he had to be coached by the acting 
 sergeant major, or the officer of the day. When it caine to 
 that part of the ceremony where the adjutant turns "About 
 face" and reports to the officer of the day "Sir, the guard is 
 formed !" he nearly fell over himself with his sword scabbard 
 between his legs. He never learned to make an "About face" 
 gracefully. It was very difficult to repress our laughter. With 
 all this, he was arrogant, domineering and conceited, and was 
 thoroughly detested by his company. 
 
 121 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 When on duty as officer of the day he visited the sentinels 
 on post, demanded their orders and received the customary 
 reply : "To take charge of this post and all Government prop- 
 erty in view, to salute all officers according to rank, to allow 
 no one to pass or repass at night without the countersign, in 
 case of fire to give an alarm," etc., etc. 
 
 Then he would torment the soldier with such absurd ques- 
 tions as : "What would you do if you saw a steamboat coming 
 down over the hills, or a thousand Indians mounted on buffa- 
 loes charging out of the woods?" 
 
 One of the sentinels answered him, "I would call for the 
 corporal of the guard to notify you immediately." 
 
 Whoever was responsible for his obtaining a commission 
 in the Army had much to answer for. He resigned after a 
 few years and disappeared from our sight and knowledge. 
 
 In October we were able to occupy our new quarters which 
 appeared palatial to us in comparison with the wretched hovels 
 in which we lived the previous winter. We had worked hard 
 to accomplish this. About this time a singular affliction came 
 upon nearly one-half of the garrison, which we called moon- 
 blindness. Every evening after twilight they began to lose 
 their vision, and when it became dark they could only dis- 
 tinguish a bright light if very close to them. They had to 
 be led around like blind men. In the morning they could 
 see as well as ever. This lasted about a fortnight, and made 
 it hard for the unafflicted who had to do double guard duty. 
 No one seemed to know the cause of this blindness. Some 
 had an idea that the comet was responsible for it. I was one 
 of the fortunate who escaped this affliction. 
 
 Small parties of Indians began to visit us; and about a 
 dozen lodges established themselves in a permanent camp 
 for the winter, but at an inconvenient distance from the fort. 
 It was necessary to cross a deep ravine or make a long detour 
 to get there. 
 
 An English sportsman, Sir St. George Gore, stopped for a 
 day to visit the officers. He had been hunting along the 
 
 122 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 upper Missouri and Yellowstone River for two years and was 
 now on his way home. He had come with a crew on a large 
 Mackinaw boat, loaded with furs and other hunting trophies. 
 
 Immense quantities of wild ducks and geese were now 
 flying south. We managed to kill quite a number with our 
 military rifles, loaded with shot which we made ourselves by 
 pouring a ladle full of melted lead from an elevated position 
 slowly into a pail of water placed on the ground. This pro- 
 duced shot of various sizes which we assorted, using the 
 smaller shot for blackbirds which were abundant. This home- 
 made shot was all egg-shaped instead of globular. It seemed 
 to be effective enough when fired into large flocks. 
 
 As soon as steady frost appeared all of our beef cattle were 
 killed and dressed. Profiting by our sad experience of the 
 last winter this was done while they were still in good con- 
 dition and the meat placed in a store house for use during the 
 winter. Soon there was a deep fall of snow which remained 
 and increased throughout the winter. A space was kept 
 cleared of snow on the vast parade ground with paths leading 
 to it from the officers' and company quarters, for the purpose 
 of holding the daily guard mounting. Spaces were cleared 
 around the quarters and the snow piled up until the buildings 
 were half hidden. I think the winter was fully as cold as 
 the previous one; but we had an abundant quantity of sea- 
 soned firewood, which we burnt in stoves and were comfort- 
 ably warm, except on days when there was a high wind. 
 When the thermometer fell to twenty degrees below zero, 
 orders were issued to call in all the sentinels, except Post 
 No. 1 in front of the guard house, and No. 2, at the store 
 houses close by, and even these posts were relieved every half 
 hour. Our food was more abundant and much better than 
 at Cantonment Miller the previous winter. There was no 
 re-appearance of scurvy and we had plenty of warm clothing. 
 
 Captain Lyon, who had imported some hogs, presented them 
 to his company to be killed as a Christmas treat of fresh pork. 
 The captain sometimes visited the pen and gave directions 
 
 123 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 for their care. A sow had a litter of pigs in the fall, and 
 fearing that she might kill them, he directed his first sergeant 
 to have her watched for a few days. The Sergeant detailed 
 some men for this purpose, among them a young German, who, 
 considering this a very unmilitary duty, refused to serve, 
 saying "To h mit der piggins, I'm no swiney doctor!" 
 
 There was very little sickness during the winter, but a 
 number of cases of frost bites, none of them very serious. 
 One death occurred during the midwinter in our little hos- 
 pital, that of Sergeant Fiske of my company who was a vet- 
 eran of the Mexican War, and had suffered for a long time 
 from a malady to which soldiers long in the service are liable. 
 Sergeant Fiske was an inveterate card player and smoker. 
 On the evening of the night on which he died he sat cross 
 legged on his bed and played his favorite game with some of 
 the other hospital inmates. When he was placed in his coffin, 
 some of his comrades slipped in a pack of cards and his pipe 
 to be buried with him, Indian fashion. With great labor a 
 grave was dug through the deeply frozen ground. On the 
 top of a hill near the fort, we buried Sergeant Fiske with 
 military honors, Lieutenant George H. Paige reading the 
 burial service. A board was put up to mark the lonely grave ; 
 but in that bleak spot it probably remained only a short time 
 before the weather obliterated all signs of it. 
 
 During this winter I saw but little of the Indians. There 
 were only a small number in camp near the fort, and no 
 others arrived. During the long winter evenings we played 
 games or read the few books, magazines and occasional news- 
 papers that we could procure. A mail from the "States" 
 arrived but twice a month, and life at the post was monot- 
 onous. 
 
 At Christmas and on New Years' day an extra dinner was 
 served for all the soldiers, with a dessert of pie made with 
 dried apples by the company's baker. Whiskey punch was 
 also provided. There was no chance for the soldiers to pro- 
 cure whiskey at Fort Lookout unless one of the officers gave 
 
 124 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 them a drink of it, which happened rarely. This drove some 
 of them who had a craving for it, to use essence of Jamaica 
 ginger and bay-rum which they could buy at the sutler's store. 
 They sometimes made a punch of it by adding sugar and hot 
 water. The sutler had some imported ale and porter, which 
 he was allowed to sell to soldiers; but as the price was 
 seventy-five cents a pint bottle, very little of it was consumed. 
 
 In April, when the snow had melted, we began to drill again 
 for the first time since leaving Carlisle Barracks. We had 
 lived more like pioneers than soldiers. Early in May orders 
 were received to abandon Fort Lookout, where we had worked 
 so hard to build quarters, and to proceed to Fort Randall, 
 where the regimental headquarters and four companies had 
 gone when Fort Pierre was abandoned a year ago. We went 
 into camp and began to tear down the company quarters for 
 they were built of hewn timber, which it was desirable to save. 
 We also took down the officers' houses. All this material was 
 hauled down to the river bank to be made into a raft, and 
 floated down to Fort Randall. We left all of the log cabins 
 and the brick chimneys standing but removed the doors and 
 sashes. Early in June a steamboat which had discharged her 
 cargo at Fort Randall arrived at Fort Lookout and took on 
 board the three companies and all of the commissary and 
 quartermaster stores and other moveable property. The 
 wagons and mules were sent overland in charge of an officer 
 and escort. 
 
 When the steamboat started down the river, I went up on 
 the hurricane deck to have a final look at what remained of 
 Fort Lookout. I saw some Indians prowling around the 
 abandoned log cabins. Brick chimneys alone marked the 
 places where our quarters and the officers' houses had been. 
 I could also make out the white board which marked the 
 lonely grave of Sergt. Fiske on the hill. 
 
 We were soon out of sight, and arrived at Fort Randall in 
 a few days. 
 
 125 
 
PART VI. 
 
 SERVICE AT FORT RANDALL, CAMPAIGNING IN KANSAS AND 
 
 EXPIRATION OF MY ENLISTMENT. 
 
 1857-1859. 
 
 WE arrived at Fort Randall in June, 1857. It was 
 located on the west bank of the Missouri river, 
 about a hundred and twenty-five miles north of 
 the Big Sioux river as the crow flies; but more than two 
 hundred miles by following the tortuous water course. At 
 Fort Randall an unusually sharp turn to the east, and another 
 to the south, gave the fort a river front on two sides, east and 
 north, with the protection of high banks sloping to a wide 
 strip of bottom land along the shore. That the location was 
 desirable is proved by the fact that it has been used as a 
 military post up to the present time, and is now in the midst 
 of a large reservation. 
 
 The four companies that went there when Fort Pierre was 
 abandoned a year before, had also worked hard and put up 
 substantial log houses, rough, but comfortable, around a 
 parade ground of reasonable size. Our three companies went 
 into camp and waited for the arrival of the raft from Fort 
 Lookout, which came in about a week. Then the re-erection 
 of our quarters and officers' houses commenced. The cabins 
 for the married soldiers were all placed on the bottom land 
 called "The Hollow". There also were the cabins of all the 
 citizen commissary and quartermaster's employees, married 
 and single, and near by was a considerable camp of Ponca 
 Indians. 
 
 There were about a dozen of citizen mechanics at the fort 
 who did the greater part of the work in re-erecting the quar- 
 
 127 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ters. They had the help of only a small detail of soldiers. 
 The buildings were improved by ceilings, and a mess-room 
 was built something we had not had for two years. 
 
 A large post garden had been planted early in the spring 
 by the companies there, and during the summer and fall we 
 had an abundance of vegetables. I had never seen potatoes, 
 onions, and tomatoes, attain such an astonishing size as they 
 did in that rich virgin soil. A few soldiers detailed as gar- 
 deners lived beside the garden in tents about a mile west of 
 the fort. 
 
 We drilled and performed guard duty and moved into our 
 new quarters after the middle of August. I did not have 
 much to do and spent a great part of my spare time swim- 
 ming, fishing and visiting the Indian camp. One day, I swam 
 acorss the Missouri with some companions, but we were so 
 exhausted we had to come back in a canoe. 
 
 There was a singular hot spring or pit on the opposite side 
 of the river. It could not be closely approached because of 
 the dangerous quick-sand about it. There was no overflow, 
 and the pit seemed to be bottomless. We threw long sticks 
 into it from a distance. They went down but never came up. 
 The spring emitted steam in winter, but it was overflowed by 
 the river in the spring and disappeared. 
 
 Major Hannibal Day was in command at Fort Randall. 
 There was a band and we did regular garrison duty, including 
 Sunday dress parades and skirmish drills. Once in a while, 
 an escort was furnished to accompany some wagons to Sioux 
 City and back a place which was then beginning to build 
 up or a company occasionally made a short march to settle 
 a small Indian difficulty. Our duties were varied and the 
 summer passed quickly. 
 
 The sutler had built a roomy store at Fort Randall, with 
 lumber brought from St. Louis. It was stocked with goods for 
 both soldiers and Indians, and the prices were lower than at 
 Fort Pierre. He kept ale on draught which, with some re- 
 strictions, he was allowed to sell to the soldiers by the glass. 
 
 128 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Whiskey began to be smuggled from Sioux City and was sold 
 to the soldiers. This made more cases for the guard-house. 
 
 An enterprising soldier's wife fixed up a small still in her 
 quarters at the "Hollow" and made a little corn whiskey which 
 she sold to soldiers secretly, but she was informed on after 
 a while and her distilling plant was destroyed. As a punish- 
 ment, she was deprived of her ration allowance. Every com- 
 pany had some men who were slaves to the liquor habit. 
 There was one in my company who, whenever he saw an 
 intoxicated man, could not refrain from exclaiming, "I wish 
 I had half of your sickness!" 
 
 A second lieutenant, a man of middle age, joined my regi- 
 ment. He was appointed from civil life, but there was a 
 rumor that he had served as an officer in the navy. If so, 
 the navy was to be congratulated on its loss, for we soon 
 discovered that he was one of those steady drinkers who, with- 
 out being intoxicated, are almost constantly under the influ- 
 ence of liquor in a minor degree. He was saturated with it 
 and exhaled it. Whenever any severe duty was to be per- 
 formed he managed to get excused on the plea of sickness, 
 and was away on leave as often as he could get it. Unfor- 
 tunately, he remained with my regiment until after the begin- 
 ning of the Civil War. By that time he was unfit for field 
 duty. He was on the sick list most of the time, and never 
 was present at any battle. We got rid of him in 1862, when 
 he was retired as a captain. 
 
 All of the officers' families, from whom they had been 
 separated for two years, joined them at Fort Randall. It was 
 quite a novelty to see white ladies again and to see their 
 children playing on the parade ground. 
 
 Captain Gardner was married here to the sister of a lieu- 
 tenant of another company. He went home to Georgia on 
 leave, and when he returned brought back with him a negro 
 and his wife, both of whom were slaves. The woman cooked 
 and the man did chores. 
 
 A partial alteration was made at this time in the army uni- 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 form. The tight fitting jacket was replaced by a loose fitting 
 blouse of dark blue cloth, which was an agreeable change. 
 The light blue trousers were replaced by trousers of dark 
 blue cloth, but in less than two years were changed back to 
 the light blue, which the army has adhered to ever since. 
 There was an absurd change from the old uniform hat to a. 
 strange and unmilitary design. The new creation was made 
 of stiff black felt with a broad brim and a high crown. The 
 brim was looped up on the right side and fastened with a brass 
 eagle, otherwise it would have interfered when the soldier 
 had his gun at "shoulder-arms." On the front was a brass 
 bugle with the regimental number in the centre of it, and a 
 brass letter of the company above it. Around the hat was 
 a worsted cord with tassels of light blue for the infantry. 
 A single black feather or plume was fastened on the left side 
 of the hat, which few of the soldiers knew how, or cared to 
 keep curled neatly. In damp weather it looked like a drenched 
 rooster's tail-feathers. The officers had similar hats of finer 
 material with more generous plumes. 
 
 A substantial new guard-house of hewn logs with a large 
 room for prisoners and a few dark cells had been built during 
 the summer. It was at the head of the road leading down 
 to the river, and chance made me the first inmate of one 
 of the cells. Some soldiers who had deserted were recaptured 
 and tried by a general court-martial, which sentenced them 
 to receive thirty-nine lashes on their bare backs, laid on with 
 a rawhide. They were also to be confined at hard labor for 
 four months, lose all pay and allowances and be dishonorably 
 discharged. On the autumn day on which the first part of 
 the sentence was executed we were paraded, and formed three 
 sides of a square, the guard-house and prison forming the 
 fourth side. It was the first time that I had ever seen cor- 
 poral punishment with a rawhide inflicted on a man while in 
 the army, and was also the only time, as flogging for deser- 
 tion was abolished forever by Act of Congress a few years 
 later. The three prisoners were present under guard. 
 
 130 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 The officer of the day read the sentence, and called out the 
 name of one of the deserters, who was led to the centre of 
 the square, where a triangle formed of strong joists had been 
 set up. Here he was divested of his jacket and shirt, his 
 wrists were bound with cords. His arms were pulled up over 
 his head and tied to the top, while his feet were spread apart 
 and secured to the bottom of the triangle. It had always 
 been the custom in the army for flogging to be administered 
 by one of the musicians. Why they were selected to do it, I 
 never learned. When all was ready the officer of the day 
 called one of the older boys from the ranks. He was handed a 
 rawhide and told by the officer to strike the prisoner hard 
 from the shoulders to the loins. 
 
 At first the blows were moderate, but increased under the 
 officer's threats until each blow left a dark red mark and then 
 began to cut the skin until blood flowed. The poor wretch 
 squirmed and groaned piteously, the more so when some ill 
 directed blow struck him around the side. When the thirty- 
 ninth blow had been struck, the officer who had kept count 
 cried, "Halt". The victim was untied by the guards and, 
 unable to stand on his feet, was dragged towards the guard- 
 house. 
 
 The second prisoner was then led forward and prepared 
 to receive his punishment. The officer of the day turned 
 about to select another musician to strike the blows. His 
 glance rested on me for an instant but he passed me by and 
 called out another by name, for which I felt very thankful. 
 The brutal scene was repeated in all of its revolting details. 
 
 When the last prisoner was ready the officer of the day 
 called out my name; but I stood still and shook my head. 
 He then peremptorily called me a second time, to which I 
 replied, "I refuse/' He ordered me to be placed in charge 
 of the guard, and called on my drummer to execute the sen- 
 tence which my refusal to act had delayed for a few minutes. 
 
 Charges of disobedience of orders were preferred against 
 me, and in about a week I was tried by court-martial. I could 
 
 131 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 only plead guilty, and in another week my sentence was pro- 
 mulgated. I was to be confined in the guard-house for thirty 
 days, ten of them in solitary confinement on a diet of bread 
 and water, the remainder at hard labor, and to forfeit one 
 month's pay. My captain tried to have my sentence com- 
 muted, but it was so glaring a refusal to obey orders without 
 any extenuating circumstances that he was unsuccessful. 
 
 I commenced to serve the first part of my ten days at hard 
 labor by going out with the prison gang under guard at seven 
 o'clock each mornign, chopping wood at the officers' quarters 
 or sweeping the roads and keeping the parade ground clear 
 until six o'clock in the evening with an interval of an hour 
 for dinner. All of the prisoners "soldiered", and shirked 
 their work as much as they could. None of us worked hard. 
 
 My second term of ten days was to be in one of the new 
 cells on bread and water. But all of the sergeants in charge 
 of the guard were friendly to me, and let me out of my cell 
 into the guard room for hours at a time after dark. Some 
 took the risk of letting me out in the day time after the officer 
 of the day had made his customary rounds. As for bread 
 and water, I never had any of that. Everyone seemed anxious 
 to smuggle in something nice for me to eat, and I had to give 
 away much of it to other prisoners. There was more than 
 one boy could consume. Hot coffee was also supplied to me 
 when it was brought in with the meals for the other pris- 
 oners. Friends furnished me with plenty of candles and 
 books. 
 
 When my ten days of solitary confinement expired, I com- 
 menced the last term of ten days at hard labor the same as 
 before. During those terms I had to sleep on the floor in the 
 large prison room with the other prisoners. I would have 
 preferred to sleep in the cell alone. 
 
 But there was enough that was amusing going on at the 
 post to make the memory of my punishment soon lose its 
 sting. For example, there was one man in my company, an 
 old soldier of the Mexican War, who would sometimes take 
 
 132 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a drink too much. This always made him maudlin and melan- 
 choly. At such times he always spoke of the "beautiful 
 senoritas," as he called them. Tears would come into his 
 eyes when he told us the charmers called him "Senor Patrucio 
 Martino". Then he would say with a sob, "Look at me ! What 
 am I now ? Nothing but plain Paddy Martin," and burst into 
 a flood of tears. 
 
 The winter was much milder than the two preceding ones. 
 There were some bitterly cold days during January and Feb- 
 ruary, yet we were quite comfortable. We had plenty to eat 
 and a variety. The general health of all the soldiers was ex- 
 ceedingly good. We got up amusements to pass the time. 
 There were some negro employees in the Quartermaster's 
 Department who could sing plantation songs for us. One of 
 them, a coal black negro who had been on the frontiers for 
 a number of years with the Fur Company, was married to 
 a squaw and had several children who were curious speci- 
 mens of the human race, combining the most prominent fea- 
 tures of the Indian and the negro. Both the father and the 
 mother seemed very proud of them, however. 
 
 The Indian camp, of easy access to the garrison, always 
 proved interesting. Its population was sometimes increased 
 by visitors from the large Ponca Village, and from a Yankton 
 village not far away. I spent much of my time with the 
 Indians, as I had done two winters previous at Cantonment 
 Miller. 
 
 In April, after the breaking up of the ice on the Missouri 
 and the melting of the snow, flocks of wild ducks and geese 
 made their appearance. For a time they came in incredible 
 numbers and we managed to get all we wanted of them. 
 
 A man of my company named Jack Lynch, who had a 
 habit of prowling about the country alone, showed us a 
 spoonful of gold dust that he said he had found during hi? 
 wanderings, but did not tell us where. About this time there 
 were articles in the papers about the discovery of gold in the 
 Black Hills, some hundreds of miles to the west of us; and 
 
 133 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 we saw no good reason why gold should not exist in the 
 bleak hills about Fort Randall. Our man brought in more 
 samples of gold. He was watched and was discovered wash- 
 ing gold in a ravine, through which a small water course ran 
 down from the hills a mile or more south of the fort. 
 
 Then excitement ran high. Crowds of soldiers went pros- 
 pecting and washing gold. Places were discovered where it 
 was more plentiful. In fact, too plentiful, for some of the 
 more industrious quickly accumulated a considerable quan- 
 tity of it. I had about a pint of it myself. Games of poker 
 were played in the quarters evenings, at which the stakes 
 were gold dust measured out in thimblefuls. Others hoarded 
 their wealth and guarded it jealously. Hope of riches within 
 our grasp warmed our hearts and cheered us. 
 
 The excitement had reached a high pitch, when, about a 
 week after our "gold digging" started, some one thought of 
 submitting a sample of the gold dust to the hospital steward, 
 who had the necessary acids for a test. He promptly declared 
 the stuff to be pyrites or "fools' gold". Some of the men 
 were bitterly disappointed, others laughed. The discoverer 
 and a few more, however, clung to their "gold dust". They 
 believed that it was valuable until they got a report from 
 St. Louis where they had sent a sample to be assayed which 
 confirmed the hospital steward's opinion. After a while some 
 of the soldiers began to think that Jack Lynch might have been 
 playing a huge joke on us. He was a pecuilar man in many 
 ways, and was the possessor of a pair of eyes that did not 
 match, one of them being light blue and the other dark gray. 
 
 During the early spring of 1858, we read much in the news- 
 papers about the Mountain Meadow massacre in Utah in 
 1857, by Indians instigated by the Mormons. A large party 
 of emigrants had been annihilated, except a few small chil- 
 dren, and Col. Albert Sidney Johnson was gathering troops 
 at Fort Bridger, Utah, to punish the Mormons. We also 
 read about trouble on the border line between Missouri and 
 Kansas Territory. Kansas desired to become a "free state," 
 
 134 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 while the Missourians, together with some adherents in the 
 territory, wanted it to become a "slave state." This led to 
 many atrocities on the border line, where people were being 
 driven off their farms and murdered by a gang called the 
 "Border Ruffians." 
 
 Soon a rumor spread that some of the companies at Fort 
 Randall would be withdrawn to serve either in Kansas or 
 Utah, and presently an order arrived to send two companies 
 to report at Fort Leavenworth, as soon as transportation by 
 steamboat could be had. For this service my own company 
 and Captain Lyon's Company B were selected. We were 
 ordered to prepare ourselves in light marching order, leaving 
 behind us all of our full dress uniforms, and other articles 
 not required on a campaign. We also left behind us the 
 alcoholic second lieutenant, who managed to be excused from 
 going and remained at Fort Randall on duty with some other 
 company. The officers' and soldiers' wives and children also 
 remained. Captain Gardner and Lieutenant O'Connoll of my 
 company and Captain Lyon and a lieutenant of Company B 
 were the only officers to go. 
 
 We waited impatiently for a steamboat to arrive. She did 
 not appear until near the middle of May, and with her came 
 a paymaster who gave us eight months' pay before our de- 
 parture. When the boat was unloaded and all was ready, we 
 formed on the parade ground and, escorted by the band, 
 marched to the boat. Among those who watched our de- 
 parture were a number of Indians and squaws from the camp. 
 
 The river was still high and the current swift. The boat 
 was but lightly loaded, so we did not strand on any sand 
 bars and made good progress, running at night on the latter 
 half of our trip. We still had to tie up now and then and 
 cut wood to feed the boilers, but occasionally there was a pile 
 of cord-wood for sale. 
 
 The great changes that had taken place since we had 
 ascended the river three years before, were surprising to me. 
 Then St. Joseph, Mo., marked the limit of the white settle- 
 
 135 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ments. Less than a hundred miles from Fort Randall by 
 river, we made the first landing at Niabrana, where the river 
 of the same name, flows into the Missouri. There was a 
 small cluster of houses, and a somewhat pretentious hotel, a 
 three-story frame building which some enterprising citizen 
 had erected. Next we stopped at Sioux City, which had 
 become a considerable village near the river bank of one 
 and two story frame buildings, with a general store and a 
 small church. Then came Council Bluffs, Omaha; Nebraska 
 City; Atchison and some smaller places. All of them had 
 sprung up within three years, and were busy and rapidly 
 growing. We stopped at all these palces to take on pas- 
 sengers or a little freight. 
 
 Such comfort as the staterooms afforded was not for the 
 soldiers. They were set apart for the use of the passengers 
 and our officers, while we were very uncomfortably limited 
 to the lower or boiler deck. We had to sleep anywhere we 
 could find room to lie down, on piles of freight or on the 
 bare deck. The weather was raw at first, and we had cold 
 rains. With half a dozen others I slept under the boilers 
 several times after the fires were banked and the boat laid up 
 for the night. The rear of the boilers was elevated on iron 
 supports three feet or more above the deck. It formed a 
 warm and sheltered place when the cold wind blew fore and 
 aft through the open deck from stem to stern. After the boat 
 began to run at night, the place became too hot for us and 
 we had to sleep elsewhere. 
 
 There were no docks or wharves at any of the landings. 
 When the boat approached a town she sounded her whistle 
 and rang a bell, which brought many of the inhabitants to the 
 river bank. In making a landing while going down stream, 
 the pilot slowed down, approached the shore at an acute 
 angle and pressed "her nozzle ag'in the bank." There he held 
 the boat, until the force of the current swung her around and 
 the bow pointed up stream. The impact of the boat always 
 dislodged a large quantity of soft earth from the river bank, 
 
 136 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 which fell into the water and left a big dent in the shore 
 line. Every steamboat on its way down stream deprived the 
 town of some of its real estate, if it made a landing. 
 
 In ten or twelve days, we reached Fort Leavenworth and 
 went into quarters. I found the place very much improved. 
 It had been cleaned up, the old buildings had been renovated 
 and some new ones added. There was no cholera or other 
 infectious sickness there then. It was a very busy place 
 at that time. Soldiers were arriving and departing frequently, 
 on their long march via Forts Kearney and Laramie to Fort 
 Bridger, near Salt Lake City, where Col. Johnson was assem- 
 bling a little army to punish the Mormons. At Leavenworth 
 post I saw Robert E. Lee, who was then the colonel of one 
 of the cavalry regiments and soon to become the Commander- 
 in-Chief of the Confederate Army. 
 
 A few days after our arrival at the fort some comrades 
 and myself obtained a twenty- four hour pass to go to Leaven- 
 worth City, only a few miles down the river. It had grown 
 to a thriving town with many stores, hotels and saloons, on 
 the business streets ; churches, dwellings and shacks on others. 
 All were built of wood and very few were more than two 
 stories high. 
 
 We were in luck a circus had come to town and was 
 parading through the streets when we arrived. There was a 
 steam organ on a decorated truck followed by a band and the 
 mounted circus performers which drew a great crowd. Of 
 course, we were on hand at the afternoon performance in the 
 tent and thought it was great. In the evening we went to 
 a theater in a barn-like building in the heart of the town, 
 where we sat on wooden benches which were all on a level. 
 There was no gallery. Three or four disreputable looking 
 musicians, playing on wheezy instruments, made up the or* 
 chestra. The stage and the auditorium were lighted with 
 candles. The floor of the stage creaked when the perform- 
 ers walked over it, and the scenery threatened to topple over. 
 I distinctly remember that the piece played by the ambitious 
 
 137 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 actors was "The Lady of Lyons," which they probably mur- 
 dered. However, the audience that crowded the place ap- 
 plauded and seemed to enjoy it, and so did we. We slept at a 
 hotel that night on a real bed for the first time in years, and 
 next morning walked back to the fort. 
 
 A few days later we received orders to start for Utah. 
 Each man bought a gray felt hat at the sutler's store, as we 
 had seen other detachments do. These we wore on the march 
 instead of the fatigue cap, which was a poor protection against 
 the fierce rays of the sun on the prairies. Our first objective 
 point was Fort Kearney on the Platte River, about two hun- 
 dred and fifty miles away. But we had marched only about 
 a week when we were recalled and retraced our steps to Fort 
 Leavenworth. I felt disappointed, I had hoped to see the 
 Grat Salt Lake and the Mormons. The long weary march 
 did not intimidate me. On our return to the fort, we learned 
 that fresh trouble had broken out on the Kansas border, and 
 we were to go to Fort Scott in the south-eastern part of 
 Kansas, a few miles from the Missouri border, to protect the 
 settlers. In a few days our little command was ready to start. 
 It included Companies B and D and a section of a battery 
 of artillery consisting of two of the old style brass six 
 pounders with their caissons, and necessary complement of 
 artillerists commanded by First Lieutenant Beekman Du Barry, 
 Third Artillery, who attained high rank later in the Army of 
 the Potomac. Second Lieutenant J. B. Shinn was his assistant. 
 The surgeon who accompanied us was Samuel W. Crawford, 
 who later commanded the division of Pennsylvania Reserves 
 at the battle of Gettysburg as a brigadier general. Captain 
 Nathaniel Lyon, being the ranking officer, commanded the 
 detachment. Captain Lyon, the firm abolitionist, and Captain 
 Gardner, the ardent pro-slavery advocate, were there together, 
 on a mission to keep the peace between rival factions, the free- 
 soilers and the partisans of slavery. Whatever their feelings 
 may have been, but they did not exhibit them. They were polite 
 to each other but not cordial. 
 
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TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Our first day's march ended at a creek which was almost 
 dry when we crossed it. That night there was a cloud-burst 
 which drenched us, and next morning the dry creek had 
 become a raging torrent many yards wide. We witnessed the 
 drowning of a man and a horse, who attempted to swim 
 over to our side, and to whom we could give no aid. 
 
 A few nights later we were encamped on low bottom land 
 at the Kansas River, when after midnight a terrific rain storm 
 flooded our camp with several inches of water. I sat until 
 daylight in my tent on an inverted quart tin cup. My bare 
 feet were in the water and I held my knapsack and clothing 
 on my knees to keep them dry. 
 
 We crossed the Kansas river on a private ferry, which con- 
 sisted of a flat-boat or scow large enough to carry a wagon 
 with a team of horses. A cable was stretched across the stream 
 high above the water. An ingenious arrangement of pulleys 
 was attached to this cable and to the boat, so that it was 
 guided from shore to shore while the current furnished the 
 motive power. No steering was required and no labor, except 
 to shove the boat off to take the current. It was easy work, 
 but very slow. It took all day to pass the soldiers and wagons 
 over the river. The artillery crossed on the following day. 
 
 We encamped one day near a small village called Shawnee- 
 town. In the evening many of the soldiers strolled to the 
 village, where there was a hotel with a bar-room, in which 
 a few citizens were drinking with some of the soldiers. It 
 was becoming dark, and the saddled horses belonging to the 
 citizens were hitched to posts on the street. This gave a joker 
 of my company an opportunity to play a trick on one of the 
 civilians. He pulled a hair out of a horse's tail, and tied it 
 firmly around the animal's hind leg between the hoof and the 
 fetlock, concealing the hair by carefully covering it with the 
 hair on the horse's leg. Then he awaited developments. 
 
 After a while the civilians came out, mounted their horses, 
 and started off. We leisurely followed them, as their road 
 led in the direction of our camp. Soon one of the men noticed 
 
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TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that his horse was going lame. It raised one of his hind feet 
 higher than the others, and brought it down with a jerk, as 
 though it were trying to kick off something which annoyed it. 
 The rider dismounted and examined the horse's hoof but found 
 nothing wrong. Then his two companions dismounted and 
 examined it. As we passed we heard them say that the only 
 thing to be done was to go back to the village and have the 
 shoe taken off. This they did and I hope discovered the harm- 
 less trick that had been played on them. 
 
 After leaving Shawneetown, we directed our march close 
 to the border line. Sometimes we were in Missouri, some- 
 times in Kansas. This continued all the way down to Fort 
 Scott. We halted for a day's rest at a small village called 
 West Point in Missouri, where we could overlook a valley 
 and see some Indian mounds. By this time we had been 
 joined by half a dozen dogs, who had left their owners and 
 followed us. They seemed to love the soldiers, who petted 
 and fed them. We had quite a pack before the summer was 
 over. Our marches were easy. There was no hurry ; it was 
 desired to let the people know that there were troops for 
 their protection near the border line. 
 
 The country was sparsely settled. When we had reached 
 the border we began to see abandoned farms, and burned farm 
 houses and cabins. Those of the settlers who remained were 
 outspoken sympathizers with slavery. On some of the aban- 
 doned farms the gardens and fields had been planted in the 
 spring and were now overgrown with weeds. The horses and 
 cattle had been taken away too, but there were pigs in the 
 woods and chickens and ducks running loose without any 
 owners. Every day was a feast with us on that short march. 
 We lived on fresh pork, chickens and all kinds of vegetables, 
 disdaining of the government rations, except the hard bread. 
 
 We reached Fort Scott in the evening during a heavy thun- 
 der storm, soaked to the skin. We put up for the night in 
 one of the old barrack buildings, and next morning established 
 a camp just outside of the little town. Fort Scott was an 
 
 140 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 old frontier post, built on the same plan as all the others, 
 which had been abandoned and sold by the Government. Citi- 
 zens now lived in the frame buildings, formerly occupied by 
 officers and soldiers. One of the old barrack buildings had 
 been converted into a hotel, and the parade ground, with its 
 well in the centre, was now the pubilc square. On it faced 
 the court house, in one of the old buildings, with the old 
 guard-house serving for the prison. 
 
 The town of Fort Scott on the Marmiton river was the 
 county seat of Bourbon County, Kansas. Some scattering 
 houses had been erected outside of the old fort, but the entire 
 population probably did not exceed two hundred at that time. 
 
 There appeared to be very little money in circulation. The 
 farmers had none, and could only trade for their produce 
 at the stores. They came to our camp, and sold us two 
 chickens for twenty-five cents, eggs at five cents per dozen, 
 two quarts of milk for five cents, and other produce in pro- 
 portion, and seemed to be pleased to get real money. Two 
 guileless farmer lads drove into camp one day with sixty 
 pounds of choice butter. They said that "Ma" had told them 
 that they must bring home six dollars for it. They had no 
 scale, but a soldier loaned them one of our quart tin cups, 
 which he said would hold just a pound, if filled and well 
 heaped up. When they had sold all of their butter at ten 
 cents per cup, they found to their chagrin that they had a 
 little less than four dollars to take home to "Ma." 
 
 There were some abandoned farms around Fort Scott, but 
 they were quite a distance from camp. Some of the soldiers, 
 when they wanted green corn or potatoes, found it easier to 
 get them from nearby farms when the farmer was not look- 
 ing. One day a farmer complained to Captain Lyon about 
 losing a calf and said he thought he could identify the soldier 
 whom he suspected of taking it. We were paraded, but when 
 he looked us over he said he could not pick out his man be- 
 cause we all looked alike. Some of the men who had dined 
 on the calf made friends with the farmer, and took him to the 
 
 141 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 hotel in town. There they filled him with whiskey and started 
 him home feeling so happy that he invited them all to visit 
 him at his farm. 
 
 One day three comrades and myself were enjoying a savory 
 stew of chicken, young pork, potatoes and onions. We had 
 it in an army mess pan which we had placed on the ground 
 in our tent, and we were squatted around the pan, each dipping 
 into it with his spoon in soldier fashion. 
 
 We had just started when one of the men began to sputter 
 and kick. 
 
 "What in h is the matter with you," exclaimed one of 
 
 the others. "Why don't you blow on it, if it is too hot?" 
 
 Instead of acting on this suggestion the man rolled over 
 on his back, his mouth frothing and his eyes distended. He 
 kicked over the pan and scattered our luscious dinner over the 
 tent floor. 
 
 We sent for the doctor, who after a long time brought him 
 back to consciousness. The man had had a fit. He had 
 subsequent attacks and was soon after discharged from the 
 service. 
 
 I suppose it was this incident that inspired a big red-haired 
 Indiana "hoosier" in my company to try to get a discharge in 
 the same way. One night he disturbed us by groaning and 
 gnashing his teeth. We found that he was frothing soap- 
 suds at the mouth, and was such a bad actor that it needed 
 only a glance to show that he was shamming. The orderly 
 sergeant threw a bucket of water over him and he had no 
 more "fits." 
 
 A lot of pigs belonging to the towns' people ran around 
 loose, and rooted about the camp until they became a nui- 
 sance. One day a soldier who craved some fresh pork, not 
 daring to shoot a pig near the camp, baited a large fish hook 
 with a piece of meat and when some of the pigs appeared 
 in the company street he threw the hook just outside of his 
 tent. Soon one of them took the bait, and only had time to 
 let out one little squeal before the "fisherman" had him in the 
 
 142 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 tent smothered in blankets. Roast pork was on the bill 
 of fare for the mess next day. 
 
 We had easy duty while at Fort Scott and plenty to eat. 
 We drilled for an hour during the cool part of the morning, 
 for it was very hot there in midsummer. After that those 
 who were not on guard or on some detail had the remainder 
 of the day at their own disposal. I spent the greater part 
 of my time on the shady banks of the Marmiton river, which 
 was a fine lively stream of clear water with rocky embank- 
 ments that showed out-croppings of soft coal. There were 
 plenty of fine fish in the river, which we caught and often 
 cooked on the bank, atlhough our camp was but a few hun- 
 dred yards away. I went in swimming several times each day, 
 and enjoyed it immensely. At the stream we also washed our 
 clothes and sat under a tree while they dried hung on bushes 
 in the hot sun. 
 
 One afternoon, while many of us were at the river, we 
 heard the "Long Roll" beaten in the camp. We rushed back 
 and got under arms. On a hill a mile from camp we saw 
 two dozen mounted men who were examining our camp and 
 prancing around in a defiant manner. They all seemed to 
 carry guns and opened fire on us when they saw us forming 
 ranks. All of their shots fell short, and when Captain Barry 
 sent a shell over their heads, they soon scattered. Pursuit 
 was out of the question, as they were well mounted and we 
 were on foot. This was the only time during our stay in 
 Kansas that we saw any of the Border Ruffians. They were 
 careful to keep out of our reach. The little incident caused 
 some excitement among the inhabitants of the town who were 
 glad to have the soldiers there to protect them from a raid. 
 
 I think we had been a month at Fort Scott, when we broke 
 camp one morning and commenced our march to Lawrence 
 on the Kansas River by way of Ossawatomy, Kansas. This 
 was the place where John Brown had a sharp fight with the 
 Missouri raiders in 1856, and earned the name of "Old Ossa- 
 watomy Brown." We were told that he was in Kansas at 
 
 143 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that time earnestly working for the Free Soilers, but I don't 
 think we met him. We made a leisurely march. I rode Dr. 
 Crawford's horse for five or six miles every day. He seemed 
 to enjoy marching in the cool part of the morning, as also 
 did some of the other officers. At night we often camped 
 at some small settlement or near a farm house. We found 
 the natives ill-informed. They seldom saw a newspaper, and 
 knew but little as to the cause of all the trouble in Kansas. 
 
 Some had never seen any soldiers before. One good old 
 lady marveled at the "big pistols on wheels," when she saw 
 the artillery. Money was almost a curiosity in some of the 
 "way-back" places through which we passed, and they sold 
 us their produce at ridiculously low prices to get a few coins. 
 
 We stayed but a few days at Lawrence and then marched 
 south again by a different road, back to Fort Scott. Our 
 empty wagons were sent from Lawrence to Fort Leavenworth, 
 with a small escort for supplies, and rejoined us later at 
 Fort Scott. On our re-arrival there, Captain Lyon encamped 
 us about a mile from town, but as long as we were close to 
 the Marmiton River we cared little for the town. 
 
 About the first week in September, we received orders to 
 return to Fort Leavenworth, which we did by the same route 
 along the border line, by which we had come down. We had 
 done a considerable amount of marching since we had left 
 Fort Leavenworth, three months before. Our clothing was 
 nearly worn out, and some of the men would soon be bare- 
 footed, for we had left there in very light marching order, not 
 expecting to remain away so long. Clothing and shoes were 
 issued to us on our arrival at the fort. 
 
 I look back upon the summer I passed in Kansas, as an 
 excursion when compared with the hardship of marching on 
 the prairies. We always found a stream, a spring or a 
 farmer's well within easy distance, which obviated the neces- 
 sity of making distressingly long marches on account of the 
 scarcity of water. We also fared well in the matter of food. 
 
 We remained but a few days at Fort Leavenworth before 
 
 144 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a steamboat arrived which was to take us up the Missouri 
 River to Fort Randall again. This boat was much smaller 
 than the others we had traveled on. She was what is called 
 a "stern-wheeler." Her paddle-wheels, on the stern instead 
 of on the sides, made her shake more than the other type of 
 boat. She carried no other passengers, and we had the use 
 of the unfurnished cabins on the saloon deck in the rear next 
 to the paddle-wheels. This boat was of very light draft and 
 not heavily loaded, so we seldom ran on sand bars and made 
 steady progress. We were tormented by mosquitoes when the 
 boat was tied up at night, and had to make smokes on the 
 shore. 
 
 I became ill with chills and fever soon after we started and 
 remained so until we arrived at Fort Randall. Dr. Crawford 
 dosed me so liberally with quinine, that I could scarcely hear 
 anything at times. 
 
 We made the trip from Leavenworth to Randall in a little 
 less than four weeks, and arrived there in the middle of 
 October. We occupied our old quarters, and resumed the 
 usual duties. There were but five companies at the post then, 
 two others having been sent away during the summer to Fort 
 Laramie. We arrived in time to take part in the fall duck 
 shooting, and Sergeant McVeagh of my company and I got 
 a two-day pass to go hunting at a lake on the other side of 
 the Missouri River, about ten miles away, where wild ducks 
 and geese abounded. We borrowed shot guns from some of 
 the citizen employes, and carried blankets and some provisions 
 with us, intending to camp at the lake for one night. 
 
 We hunted during the afternoon with fair success, and as 
 evening approached made our way toward one end of the 
 lake where we saw woods in which we intended to camp for 
 the night. But on approaching closer we noticed smoke issuing 
 from the tops of several Indian teepees among the trees. We 
 quickly decided that it would be safer to trust to the Indians' 
 hospitality than to camp alone, as they had no doubt dis- 
 covered our presence. A furious barking of dogs announced 
 
 145 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 our arrival, and we entered the largest of three lodges. We 
 sat down, and after the customary smoke we made the savages 
 understand that we were hungry, and wanted to sleep in their 
 camp for the night. The Indian assented by pointing to a 
 heap of skins on one side of the tent, and making the sign 
 indicating sleep. 
 
 We found that these Indians belong to the Oo-he-non-pas 
 (Two Kettle Band) of the Yankton tribe, and the inmates 
 of the teepee consisted of an Indian with his two squaws, 
 two girls about my age, two children five or six years old, 
 and a wrinkled gray-haired squaw bent with age. 
 
 We gave the squaws all the ducks we had shot. They 
 prepared some of them for supper, also some venison which 
 they had. The sergeant and I made coffee for the whole 
 family, and shared our bread with them. After supper we 
 gave the Indian some tobacco, and we smoked our own pipes. 
 
 We talked with all of them as much as our limited knowl- 
 edge of their language permitted and found out they had 
 been far away hunting, and were going to winter with their 
 tribes. They had been at the fort and knew the soldier^. 
 Some visitors from the other two lodges dropped in. The 
 Indians showed us his pipes, his bows and arrows, his gun 
 and his little curiosities. He admired our guns, which we 
 had kept loaded, removing the percussion caps before enter- 
 ing the lodge. The sergeant interested them with a pack 
 of cards, while I amused the younger squaws by drawing 
 pencil sketches for them, and showing them my watch. 
 
 I began to wonder what the arrangements for sleeping 
 would be when I noticed one of the squaws make a bed of 
 buffalo robes and other skins on one side of the lodge for 
 us, while directly opposite on the other side of the fire which 
 was in the center of the floor, she put the two young squaws 
 to bed. First she wound a horse hair rope many times around 
 the lower limbs of each, to prevent them from running away 
 with us I suppose. As a further precaution she lay down 
 at their side next to the fire. The Indian with the other 
 
 146 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 squaw slept opposite the opening to the lodge. The two 
 children slept at the foot of the young squaw's bed next 
 to the door, while the old squaw was left defenceless and 
 alone to sleep at our feet on the other side of the door. They 
 all lay down with their clothes on so we did the same, tak- 
 ing off only our coats. Our guns we laid next to the side 
 of the lodge where I slept, the sergeant sleeping in front 
 next to the fire. 
 
 I was tired and soon went to sleep. A noise awoke me 
 during the night, but it was only the old crone putting a 
 few fagots on the fire to keep it lighted. We arose soon 
 after daylight. The two girls had been unwound before we 
 got up. We had breakfast and departed, not forgetting 
 to invite the family to visit us at Fort Randall. 
 
 We resumed our hunting, and soon had all of the ducks 
 we were able to carry. Then, after a lunch by the lake, we 
 took up our tramp to the fort, where we arrived in the evening. 
 
 The Indian and his family hunted us up in a few days at 
 the fort, but the old squaw and the two children were not 
 with them. They came mounted on ponies. The sergeant 
 and I got them something to eat, and bought the squaw a 
 few things in the sutler's store. We gave a plug of tobacco 
 to the buck to repay his hospitality and they all went away 
 satisfied. 
 
 The river closed early, and cold weather was soon upon us. 
 We passed our time as we had done the previous winter. 
 Nothing disturbed our tranquility, until suddenly in the early 
 part of January Company I and my company were ordered to 
 go at once to Niabrara. Four army wagons mounted on run- 
 ners were prepared to carry our provisions and baggage. One 
 of them was fitted up with a sheet iron stove for the officers 
 to ride and sleep in. It seemed that the Ponca Indians, whose 
 village was close to Niabrara, had killed one of the citizens 
 and committed depredations on the settlers. The villagers 
 had asked the commandant of Fort Randall for protection. 
 The commanding officer sent a message to "Big Drum," the 
 
 147 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 chief of the Poncas, and the head men of the tribe to come 
 to Fort Randall, but they paid no attention to it. After 
 waiting a reasonable time he ordered the two companies to 
 go and punish the Indians. 
 
 The captain of Company I, who commanded the expedi- 
 tion, was a corpulent, elderly man, with a large family. He 
 loved his ease and had lost his stomach for fighting. When the 
 Civil War broke out he soon resigned to spend his declin- 
 ing years peacefully keeping a store in a western town. The 
 other officers of our little expedition were Captain Gardner 
 and Lieutenant O'Connoll of my company and a lieutenant 
 of Company I. 
 
 We started our march in the forenoon of a very cold but 
 bright day and climbed the hills below Fort Randall. The 
 snow was deep, and the thick crust on it made marching 
 hard and tiresome. It was quickly discovered that our 
 customary way of marching by fours was impracticable. We 
 were reduced to twos, and as soon as the two leading men 
 were tired out breaking a path in the deep snow, they stepped 
 to one side, and waited to fall in line again in the rear. The 
 officers rode their horses, but at times took to the warm 
 sleigh which the commander hardly ever left. The days were 
 short, and I think we accomplished only a little more than six 
 miles on the first before darkness overtook us. We went 
 into camp on the spot where we halted on top of a bleak 
 hill, and waited a while for the sleighs with our baggage to 
 come up. 
 
 It was bitter cold, probably thirty degrees below zero at 
 least, but we had no thermometer to tell us that. We shovelled 
 away some of the deep snow and tried to put up tents but 
 found it impossible to drive wooden tent pins into the frozen 
 ground. We therefore banked up the snow high to the wind- 
 ward, and made our beds on the frozen ground. Fortunately 
 we had plenty of robes and blankets. I slept in the middle 
 with three in the bed, and felt warm all night. 
 
 The cooks started a fire with wood obtained from a nearby 
 
 148 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ravine, but for water they had to melt snow. We had coffee 
 before we went to bed, which helped to warm us up and 
 the fire was kept burning all night. Snow had to be melted 
 to water the horses and mules, and to make our coffee in 
 the morning. We slept in our clothes, removing only our 
 overcoats and boots. When we arose we found that the ex- 
 halation from our bodies had caused a thick crust of ice 
 to form on the topmost robe, while the lowest one was 
 frozen fast to the ground. I had imprudently left my boots 
 and buffalo hide overboots outside of my bed. In the morn- 
 ing they were frozen as stiff as sheet iron. I could not put 
 them on until a comrade had thawed them at the fire for me. 
 
 The four officers slept in the sleigh as best they could. T 
 overheard Captain Gardner remark to another officer next 
 morning while they warmed themselves at the fire before 
 mounting their horses, that he had the courage, but not the con- 
 stitution to stand such a march. Our corpulent commander 
 did not leave the sleigh, and had his breakfast cooked and 
 brought to him by his "dog-robber," as the men called an 
 officer's soldier-servant. 
 
 We had a hard day's march the next day, for we kept 
 near the river where it was hilly and made about twelve miles. 
 We fared better on that and on subsequent nights, as we 
 camped at the edge of woods where we could build roaring 
 fires. Fortunately we had no snow storms to add to the 
 rigor of the intense cold. We did not put up any tents dur- 
 ing the march. 
 
 I think it was on the forenoon of the fourth day, just as 
 we got to the brow of a hill, that about fifty mounted Indians 
 appeared over the crest of a hill more than half a mile away. 
 They seemed astonished on seeing us and halted for a moment. 
 An excited soldier discharged his rifle at them without wait- 
 ing for orders to fire. This caused nearly a dozen others to 
 fire before the officer could stop them. At the first shot the 
 Indians fled down the hill and were out of sight in a few 
 seconds. They did not reply to our firing, which had done 
 
 149 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 them no harm. We learned a few days later that this was 
 a party of Ponca Indians on a peace journey to Fort Randall. 
 
 On the evening of the fifth day we arrived at the wooded 
 bluffs overlooking the Niabrara River, near its junction with 
 the Missouri. On the other side of the river was a small 
 settlement of about a dozen houses and a hotel called "The 
 Niabrara." Next morning we had a hard time getting the 
 sleighs down the steep bluffs to the frozen river. The mules 
 were unhitched, and the sleighs were slid down one at a time 
 with ropes hitched around trees to prevent them from descend- 
 ing too fast. We got them all down safely, crossed the river 
 and camped close to the settlement. With great difficulty we 
 put up our "Sibley" tents, using steel picket-pins to drive 
 holes in the ground before we could insert the wooden tent 
 pins. We got brush in the woods to cover the ground inside 
 the tents, and built fires in the company streets, as a fire 
 within the tent would have thawed the frozen ground, and 
 reduce it to a quagmire. The officers occupied rooms at the 
 hotel and messed there. 
 
 The large Ponca Indian village was but a mile or two away, 
 and the next day after our arrival orders were sent to the 
 Indians to attend a council on the following morning. But 
 that night a blizzard which lasted for forty-eight hours swept 
 down upon us and caused intense suffering. The wind blew 
 the drifting snow so fiercely that no fires could be kept going. 
 It was evening before the kindly proprietor of the hotel sent 
 for our cooks and allowed them to make some hot coffee for 
 us in his kitchen. The next day the storm continued with 
 unabated fury. All we could do was to lie in our tents cov- 
 ered up with our blankets and buffalo robes to keep from 
 freezing. But we had hot. coffee twice and some warm soup 
 on the second day, which put some life into us. 
 
 The hotel at Niabrara must have been built with an idea 
 that the settlement would grow rapidly like Sioux City. But 
 it had failed to do so. The place seemed as large as one 
 would expect to find in a western town of two thousand 
 
 150 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 inhabitants. It was a frame building, clapboarded, three 
 stories high with a shingled gabel roof. There was a kitchen 
 and dining-room on the first floor, also a good sized bar-room 
 and a sitting-room. The first two stories had been plastered, 
 but the third was left unfinished, and had only the clapboards 
 and the shingles as a protection against the weather. 
 
 I do not know whether it was an arrangement made by 
 our officers, or an offer from the proprietor, influenced per- 
 haps by the fact that at this time there were no guests at 
 the hotel, and that all of the soldiers seemed to have money. 
 At any rate, when the blizzard was over, we took down our 
 tents and moved to the unfinished third floor of the hotel, 
 which was just about large enough so that all could lie down 
 at night. There were only about seventy of us, counting 
 cooks, teamsters and "dog-robbers." It was very cold up 
 there on the top floor at night, but we had plenty of bedding 
 and during the day we were allowed to sit in the bar and 
 the sitting-room, where there were stoves. We found it an 
 agreeable change from the camp. 
 
 We cooked our own meals and ate them where we could, 
 but the proprietor, who seemed a very shrewd sort of person, 
 served some meals in the dining-room at fifty cents per head, 
 at which we got fried bacon, corn bread, flap jacks and coffee 
 sweetened with molasses, which was all he had to offer. He 
 had some soft drinks at the bar, cigars and tobacco and a 
 few candies and crackers. I do not know whether he had any 
 liquor. If he did, he never sold any of it to the soldiers. He 
 had his cook make large quantities of corn bread and often 
 came into the bar-room with slabs of it, shouting: "Who'll 
 have another section for a quarter!" Our officers occupied 
 rooms on the second floor of the hotel, and had their meals 
 served there. 
 
 The council with the Ponca Indians was held on the day 
 after we had moved into the hotel. All the soldiers not on 
 guard or other duty to the number of about fifty, were drawn 
 up under arms in front of the hotel, when we saw Big Drum 
 
 151 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and his braves approaching. All of the officers and soldiers 
 knew the chief. They had also met some of the other Indians, 
 who had often been at Fort Randall, which was but "one 
 sleep" (two days ride) from the Ponca Village. The chief, 
 a man of about fifty years, was the tallest and most powerful 
 member of his tribe. He was a typical savage in appear- 
 ance with a large head and face strongly pock marked. I had 
 seen him at the fort considerably under the influence of "fire 
 water/' which had been given to him by some of the officers 
 or the sutler. 
 
 We noticed that the Indians had come to the council, con- 
 trary to custom, almost fully armed. Some had guns with 
 them, which were but ill concealed beneath their robes or 
 blankets. Their weapons were probably loaded, while our 
 guns were not. 
 
 Our officers with a few citizens and some interpreters formed 
 a group about twenty paces in front of the center of our 
 little battalion, and faced the Indians who out-numbered us 
 more than two to one. While the "talk" progressed the 
 Indians spread around the flanks, and in rear of the officers, 
 practically surrounding them. Had any trouble occurred we 
 would have had to fire in their direction, and perhaps kill our 
 own officers. We wondered at the unwise and negligent 
 arrangements of our corpulent commander. I think the other 
 officers noted it, for when the council was continued on the 
 following day, our guns were loaded, our officers kept close 
 to the front of our ranks, and the Indians were not allowed 
 to spread around the flanks. At the close of the second day 
 of the council Big Drum surrendered four Indians as pris- 
 oners. They were disarmed, and put in the guard house, 
 which was a small out-building belonging to the hotel. 
 
 About three days after the council, we commenced our 
 return march to Fort Randall, taking with us the Indian pris- 
 oners, who marched in rear of the column with the camp 
 guard. We crossed the Missouri on the ice and marched 
 up on the east bank, where the land was more level and 
 
 152 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the distance somewhat shorter owing to the curvature of 
 the river towards the west. We crossed the Vermillion River, 
 almost without noticing it, where it passed through a piece 
 of prairie. The snow being so deep that the banks were 
 scarcely distinguishable. We accomplished the distance in 
 three days' marching, and were fortunate not to encounter a 
 snow storm. 
 
 About noon on the last day of the march, I succumbed to 
 the severe fatigue of marching through the deep snow for 
 the first time during my service. I was exhausted and un- 
 able to go further. I was put into one of the sleighs, hauled 
 by six mules, into which some other worn out and half frozen 
 soldiers had preceded me. We arrived at the fort after dark, 
 where I discovered that some of my toes on both feet were 
 badly frozen. It was about three weeks before I was able 
 to do duty again. A number of the soldiers had been frost- 
 bitten, but none seriously. 
 
 After a while Big Drum, accompanied by some Indians of 
 his tribe, came to the fort, and remained for some time. He 
 had several interviews with the colonel in command, which 
 finally resulted in the four Indian prisoners being set free. 
 
 No further trouble occurred during the remainder of the 
 winter. I began to count the days that remained before the 
 expiration of my service on March 31, 1859. When the day 
 arrived I received my discharge from the service, but re- 
 mained with my company as their guest until I could get 
 transportation to the States. A soldier of my company whose 
 term of service had expired about the same time as mine, 
 had built himself a staunch boat with two paddle wheels to 
 be worked by hand power. He proposed to descend the 
 Missouri in this boat to St. Louis, and invited me to make 
 the journey with him. However, I preferred to wait for a 
 steamboat. He started on his trip alone about the middle 
 of April, but we never heard how he got along. 
 
 The ice in the Missouri broke up about a week earlier than 
 usual, and the latter part of April I began to make frequent 
 
 153 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ascents of some of the highest hills about Fort Randall. From 
 their summits I could look for many miles down the river and 
 watch for a steamboat, for I was impatient to return to 
 civilization. Finally the boat arrived on the evening of the 
 first day of May, somewhat sooner than we had expected her. 
 On this boat came Major James Longstreet, who was a pay- 
 master in the United States Army and destined to become 
 a Lieutenant General in the Confederate Army, and a con- 
 spicuous figure all through the war of the Rebellion. 
 
 Major Longstreet, with the assistance of his clerk, J. T. 
 Bradley, paid off the troops at the fort next morning. I re- 
 ceived all my due pay, and my retained pay of two dollars 
 per month. The retained pay was the amount held back by 
 the Government from each soldier since the pay had been 
 raised in 1854, to be given to him at the expiration of his serv- 
 ice. I also received more than fifty dollars, which I had 
 saved on my clothing allowance and mileage to New York 
 City, the place of my enlistment. All this amounted to over 
 three hundred dollars quite a sum of money for a boy not 
 eighteen years old. It made me feel wealthy. From the pay 
 of every soldier throughout his service there was a monthly 
 deduction of twelve and a half cents, which went towards 
 the maintenance of the Soldiers' Home at Washington, D. C, 
 an institution of great benefit to old and indigent soldiers. 
 
 I engaged cabin passage on the steamer to St. Louis, as 
 did a few other discharged soldiers, among them Sergeant 
 John Brown of my company, whom I had first met as cock- 
 swain of the Governor's Island barge. Sergeant Brown had 
 re-enlisted, and was going on a furlough. Later on he was 
 made an Ordnance Sergeant. A few other discharged and 
 furloughed soldiers took deck passage. I had sold or given 
 away my clothing and bedding, and bought a suit of citizens' 
 clothing at the sutler's store regular wild western store 
 clothes. I took with me a collection of Indian pipes, mocas- 
 sins, bows and arrows, etc., and about three days after the 
 arrival of the steamboat, I bade farewell to my comrades 
 
 154 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and to the officers of my company, receiving some good ad- 
 vice from Captain Gardner. 
 
 Many of my comrades advised me to remain in the west, 
 and grow up with the country; and I came near doing so, 
 but a strong desire to go to New York and see my mother 
 overcame all other considerations. I was still very young, 
 hopeful and ambitious to succeed in civil life, and I was 
 strong and healthy in spite of the hardship and sufferings 
 I had endured in my tender years. 
 
 I little thought at that time that in a year I should re-enlist 
 and serve in the same company throughout the Civil War, 
 in the Army of the Potomac. Neither did I think that I was 
 too young and inexperienced at that time for success in civil 
 life, or that it would require another term of service of harder 
 experience to mature and prepare me for a permanent career 
 outside of the army. 
 
 There were a few furloughed officers on the steamboat, 
 among them Brevet Major Henry W. Wessells of my regi- 
 ment, an estimable officer who was taking his eldest son, 
 H. W. Wessells, Jr., whom I knew very well, to place in a 
 school at Danbury, Connecticut. Young Wessells became a 
 Second Lieutenant in the Army in 1865, while his father 
 was retireci as a Lieutenant Colonel and Brevet Brigadier 
 General in 1871. 
 
 We took many passengers on the way down the river, some 
 of them very interesting and talkative people, but Major 
 Longstreet and his clerk, Bradley, led the conversations at 
 the steamer's public dining-table. They were not only the 
 most interesting talkers but received the most respectful 
 attention. 
 
 I had not been many days on the river, when I was afflicted 
 with the chills and fever again, and had to keep to my berth 
 a great part of the time. It seemed as though I was to 
 suffer from that or dumb-ague every time I traveled on this 
 river. There was no doctor on the boat, but an elderly col- 
 ored man, the chief steward, heard of my illness and came 
 
 155 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 to see me. He assured me that he could cure me with three 
 doses of medicine, so I would never have the fever again. 
 For this he sagaciously demanded five dollars in advance. 
 I was desperate, so I gave him the money and told him to 
 go ahead. He brought me a dose of medicine, which was 
 the vilest stuff I ever tasted and made me feel very sick. 
 After an interval of a day he brought me another dose, which 
 tasted so much worse than the first and made me feel so ill 
 that no amount of his persuasion could induce me to take 
 his third dose. I vowed that I would rather have the ague 
 for ever after than to take his medicine. About this time 
 we had reached Leavenworth, where I spent about half a 
 day on shore. I began to feel better, and before I reached 
 St. Louis I was entirely well. 
 
 At one of the towns along the river a gentleman and his 
 son from Cleveland or Rochester, who were traveling on 
 business in the west, took passage for St. Louis and struck 
 up an acquaintance with me. The elder man seemed to be 
 greatly interested in my experience in the Indian country, and 
 before we reached St. Louis he invited me to visit him. He 
 hinted that he would charge himself with my future, if I would 
 go with him; but I declined. I was too much bent on getting 
 back to New York, where I hoped to build up my future by 
 my own efforts. 
 
 The river was high, and we had a quick passage to St. 
 Louis, where my companion, Sergeant Brown, and I stayed 
 for two days, seeing, after so long in the wilderness, the 
 sights of a large city. We left St. Louis for New York on 
 a Saturday afternoon, and arrived at Cincinnati on Sunday 
 morning, where we had to lie over until midnight as no 
 trains went out on Sunday. With a few changes of cars, 
 we reached New York, where we separated, and I went home. 
 
 1S6 
 
PART VII. 
 
 RE-ENLISTMENT AND RETURN TO FRONTIERS, 1860. 
 
 IT is not my intention to describe in detail my experiences 
 as a civilian during the period between my first and sec- 
 ond enlistments, but to restrict this story to my army 
 career. I will only state here that my lack of knowledge 
 of civil life made it hard for me to obtain any remunerative 
 or permanent employment. I made all kinds of efforts, answer- 
 ing advertisements by letter or in person ; in the latter case often 
 finding a crowd of applicants ahead of me, most of whom had 
 some experience in the kind of work offered. I often walked the 
 streets looking for work and felt heartsick and discouraged at 
 my failure to find employment. My little stock of money 
 diminished day by day although I practiced the strictest 
 economy, spending a few pennies for a mid-day meal when I 
 was tramping about the city. After a time, during the summer, 
 I found occasional employment ; but it was not until fall that I 
 secured a steady job where, however, the hours were long, the 
 pay small and the work uncongenial. 
 
 About the midde of March, 1860, I was visited by two dis- 
 charged soldiers from my company who had also come to New 
 York, their former home, in search of employment, but without 
 success. They had made up their minds to re-enlist and asked 
 me to join them. I considered the matter carefully, and seeing 
 no prospects for advancement, finding myself poorer finan- 
 cially than if I had remained in the service, and having a real 
 fondness for a soldier's life, I decided to give up my employ- 
 ment and try my fortune once more in the military service. 
 
 On the twenty-fourth day of March, 1860, my two comrades 
 and I re-enlisted to serve for five years in the United States 
 
 157 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Army. The recruiting office was in Chatham Street (now 
 called Park Row), New York city. First Lieutenant Thomas 
 W. Sweeney of my old company was the recruiting officer. He 
 remembered us, seemed glad to have us return to the service 
 and promised to see to it that we would be restored to our 
 former regiment and company. It was just one year, lacking a 
 week, since I had been discharged at Fort Randall, Nebraska 
 Territory. My age at my re-enlistment was nineteen years, 
 less three months. 
 
 We passed the medical examination, were sworn into the 
 service by a notary, and on the same day were sent to Governor's 
 Island, New York harbor. As I was no longer a musician I 
 was assigned to quarters in the upper casemates of Castle 
 Williams, along with a number of raw recruits. I found no 
 changes or improvements on the island since I had left it more 
 than five years before; it seemed the same as I have already 
 described it, only the officers had all been changed. Major T. 
 H. Holmes of the Eighth Infantry was in command. 
 
 In a few days I drew my kit and clothing at the quarter- 
 master's stores and had to commence drilling along with other 
 recruits who were being instructed by the drill-sergeants in 
 their facings, marching, etc. The officer in command of the 
 drilling squads soon discovered that I was well versed in all 
 that was to be taught the recruits and detailed me to take a 
 few of the stupidest of the lot to one side and try to instruct 
 them. I disliked drilling this awkward squad, as it was very 
 trying to my patience. They did not seem to know the left foot 
 from the right ; and when ordered to keep their heads up, out 
 would go their stomachs. When it came to an "about face," 
 some of them fell over themselves. 
 
 One afternoon a comrade and myself were detailed for fatigue 
 duty to dig a grave for a soldier who had died in the hospital. 
 We were supplied with pick and shovel and conducted to the 
 island graveyard by a sergeant who marked out the location and 
 the dimensions of the grave and then left, after admonishing us 
 to be sure to have the job finished before two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, when the funeral was to take place. Neither my 
 
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TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 comrade nor I had ever handled a pick or shovel before and we 
 found the work hard. It was a warm day in April. We soon 
 grew tired and felt very hot and dry. Opportunely the sutler's 
 store was close by and beer by the glass was sold there. We 
 found it necessary to refresh ourselves several times during the 
 forenoon and to take a good long rest at noon-time. At two 
 o'clock we were still digging when we heard the drums and 
 fifes playing the dead-march and saw the funeral approaching 
 from the hospital close by. The procession entered the grave- 
 yard and lined up at the grave ; the corpse was ready, but we 
 were not, for we had dug a hole only about four feet deep. 
 After a scolding we were ordered to quit much to our satis- 
 faction. A couple of strong and husky Irishmen soon dug the 
 hole to the required depth of six feet and the ceremonies were 
 completed. 
 
 After a few weeks I was trans fered from the castle to the 
 garrison, where both the quarters and food were better. As I 
 understood all the necessary drill, a rifle and accoutrements 
 were issued to me and I had to take my turn at guard duty 
 twice a week. I well remember that, the first time I was a 
 sentinel on post, I was stationed on the shore facing Brooklyn, 
 in front of some store houses, where I paced for two hours at 
 a time and then was relieved and had four hours off before 
 going on post again. In the day-time I could interest myself in 
 watching the movements of steamboats and small craft on the 
 river, but at night it was lonesome and the time on post seemed 
 much longer. We had a little rest at night, during the four 
 hours off, when we lay down on a hard wooden platform in 
 the guard-house which was built for that purpose. We had to 
 keep all our clothing and accoutrements on, and were generally 
 disturbed after midnight by sentinel number one in front of 
 the guard-house calling out, "Turn out the guard for the officer 
 of the day" when we hurried out, formed ranks and were in- 
 spected by the officer of the day, who usually made the rounds 
 of all the sentinels on the different posts at that hour. 
 
 There was on the island at that time a sergeant with a Polish 
 name who had the immediate charge of the raw recruits. He 
 
 159 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was a martinet, a tyrannical bully in his treatment of the poor 
 and ignorant recruits, who feared and hated him, but he was 
 artful enough to keep aloof from the old soldiers who under- 
 stood their rights and privileges. He seemed to be the most 
 detested non-commissioned officer in the army. 
 
 I was impatient to rejoin my regiment on the frontier and to 
 get away from Governor's Island, where my former experience 
 was not a happy one ; but it was not until early in June that a 
 detachment of recruits for the Ninth Infantry, then serving in 
 Oregon, was ready to depart. With this detachment of one 
 hundred and fifty, another of fifty, destined for the Second 
 United States Infantry, stationed in Dakota Territory, was to 
 travel a part of the way. I secured a pass to be absent for 
 forty-eight hours and went to the city to bid farewell to my 
 mother and friends. One morning a few days later we formed 
 on the parade ground, fully equipped with knapsack, haversack, 
 tin cup, tin plate, knife, fork and spoon, a canteen and three 
 days' rations of boiled salt pork and hard bread stowed in our 
 haversacks ; but without arms. We were escorted to the wharf 
 by the post band, playing the usual airs, and embarked on a 
 steamboat for the Erie Railroad depot in Jersey City. 
 
 Upon our arrival at the railroad depot we found a special 
 train waiting to take us out West. The soldiers traveled in 
 emigrant cars with bare wooden seats, very uncomfortable to 
 ride in and very fatiguing, as we could sleep but little in our 
 cramped positions. My experience on this journey was similar 
 to that of my first trip West five years before. We lived on 
 our rations with a quart-cupful of hot coffee with milk twice a 
 day at some of the stations. 
 
 Upon arriving at Chicago the fifty recruits for the Second 
 United States Infantry, of whom I was one, changed cars for 
 St. Louis, Missouri, while the larger party kept on West as far 
 as the railroad went and then had a long march across the plains 
 to Oregon. From St. Louis we went South a few miles by 
 cars to Jefferson Barracks, on the west bank of the Mississippi 
 River, where we arrived about the middle of June. There were 
 few soldiers at the barracks at that time, about a dozen re- 
 
 160 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 enlisted men awaiting an opportunity to rejoin their regiments, 
 like myself, and a few score recruits in addition to our detach- 
 ment. The barracks was pleasantly situated on high ground 
 overlooking the river and was quite extensive. The country 
 round about was sparsely settled, with large stretches of still 
 uncultivated land and woods. A good road led to the village of 
 Carondelet about half-way to St. Louis. Midway between the 
 barracks and the village was a tavern called "The Stone 
 House," which was much frequented by the soldiers. 
 
 I was appointed lance-corporal and helped to drill the 
 recruits. I was also corporal of the guard about once a week 
 and, as such, posted and relieved the sentinels. This gave me 
 plenty of spare time for roving about the country, and for fish- 
 ing and swimming in the Mississippi River. I was exceedingly 
 fond of swimming and for nearly three months, except when on 
 guard, I had a swim immediately after the reveille roll-call 
 before breakfast, rain or shine. The weather was very hot 
 that summer and I went into the water generally twice more 
 during the day and always had a short swim in the evening 
 after sundown to fasten a fish-line to a snag in the river about 
 fifty yards from the shore, where I often found a catfish when 
 I examined the line in the morning. It was pleasant to sit in 
 the cool shade on the river-bank and see some of the famous 
 Mississippi river steam-boats racing by, for at that time there 
 were still many boats plying the river and the levee at St. Louis 
 was crowded with them. Several times I secured a pass for a 
 twenty-four hours' visit to St. Louis, and walked six or seven 
 miles to Carondelet a few times without a pass. 
 
 Farm produce was very cheap ; we improved our rations at 
 very little expense and lived fairly well during the summer. 
 
 Early in September about sixty-five of the recruits destined 
 for the Second United States Infantry, myself among the num- 
 ber, received orders to proceed to St. Louis and there to embark 
 on a steamboat for St. Paul, Minnesota. We boarded the cars 
 of the Iron Mountain Railroad at the barracks station and rode 
 to St. Louis. It was a long distance from the railroad depot to 
 the steamboat, which was near the north end of the levee ; the 
 
 161 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 day was hot and I staggered along under my heavily loaded 
 knapsack and was ready to drop when we reached the steamer. 
 My excessive swimming had weakened me to an extent that I 
 was not aware of. 
 
 The steamer was a regular passenger and freight boat of the 
 usual type ; there were no bunks nor any kind of accommoda- 
 tions for us and we had to stay on the lower deck with the 
 freight, spreading out blankets and sleeping any place we could 
 find room. This proved to be a great hardship for me, for on the 
 second day of our journey I became ill with a violent attack of 
 what we called dumb-ague, which lasted until we reached St. 
 Paul. It seemed that every time I traveled on the Missouri or 
 the Mississippi rivers I was to have a fever of some sort. Dr. 
 Andrew K. Smith, our surgeon, dosed me so liberally with 
 quinine that I was in a stupor, so that my memory is almost a 
 blank regarding this trip up the river. I could not eat the 
 rations, but, fortunately, had some money and could bribe the 
 cabin cooks to give me nourishing soup and a few delicacies, 
 for which I was grateful. When we landed at St. Paul I felt 
 better and was able to march to a camp prepared for us a few 
 miles from the city, where Sibley tents had been put up and a 
 train of about twenty army wagons with their six-mule teams 
 were ready to load up with commissary and quartermaster's 
 stores for Fort Abercrombie, Dakota Territory, which was our 
 destination. 
 
 In a few days we started on our long march, passing through 
 Minneapolis, and then in a northwesterly direction through a 
 sparsely settled country to the town of St. Cloud, on the Miss- 
 issippi, which dwindled to a small river at that point. Captain 
 Deluzier Davidson, together with a lieutenant and a surgeon, 
 were the officers of our detachment. I was still weak, but im- 
 proved rapidly under the influence of the healthy atmosphere 
 and the out-of-door life. I could not make a full day's march, 
 however, although we carried no knapsacks ; sometimes I rode 
 the doctor's horse when he wanted to walk, or rode in one of 
 the wagons when I was tired out. We did not attempt hard 
 marches, but started at sunrise and generally encamped in the 
 
 162 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 early afternoon, for Captain Davidson loved his ease and com- 
 fort, and there was no necessity to rush us along. At St. Cloud 
 we rested for a day and washed our clothing in the river. 
 
 A day's march after we left St. Cloud all signs of settlements 
 disappeared and we saw no more until we came to the town of 
 Alexandria, a cluster of houses on a lake, about half-way 
 between St. Paul and Fort Abercrombie. We were now in a 
 country full of lakes, large and small, some of them were 
 beautiful the water clear and teeming with fish. When we 
 arrived at the Otter Tail Lake, which was larger than any we 
 had seen, we rested for another day and were amazed at the 
 countless numbers of pelicans that we saw. These birds, when 
 not fishing, rested on the islands in the lake, completely covering 
 them, and from a distance it seemed as though they were 
 covered with snow. We made a sort of seine out of feed bags, 
 sewed together end to end, about twenty-five feet in length, and 
 fastened to a stick at each end. Two men would wade into the 
 lake for a short distance, extend this seine and drag it towards 
 the shore, bringing with them many fish that struggled and 
 wriggled when they got into shallow water, where we picked 
 out with our hands such of them as we fancied. 
 
 Although we were in the country of the Chippawa Indian, 
 we saw none of them until we reached Breckenridge, an old 
 trading-post, where we met a few of the savages. Brecken- 
 ridge was an easy day's march from Fort Abercrombie. We 
 had just finished establishing our camp there for the night when 
 several wagons and a small escort of soldiers arrived and halted 
 for a while. They were from the fort on their way to St. Paul, 
 and with them was Captain William M. Gardner of my com- 
 pany, going home on a six-months' furlough, accompanied by 
 his wife and negro servants. They rode in a spring wagon 
 (about the size of an ambulance) drawn by two horses. The 
 captain was somewhat surprised to find me back in the army 
 again. He talked with me for a long while and mentioned that 
 he would make me a non-commissioned officer as soon as there 
 was a vacancy in the company. He advised me to study with 
 a view to being admitted to the military academy at West Point, 
 
 163 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and promised to use his influence, along with that of some other 
 officers, to obtain for me an "appointment at large" from the 
 President when I could qualify for admission. Much to my 
 regret, I never saw Captain Gardner again. He resigned his 
 commission before his furlough expired (while at his home in 
 Georgia) and joined the Confederate Army. 
 
 The next day we arrived at Fort Abercrombie. The fort was 
 situated on the west bank of the Red River of the North, which 
 here marked the dividing line between Dakota and Minnesota 
 Territories. This river flows north and empties into Lake 
 Winnipeg in the British possessions, while the Mississippi, but 
 little more than a hundred miles to the east, flows south. The 
 Red river was but a small stream, navigable for canoes only. 
 The most interesting thing about it and the Wild Rice river, a 
 tributary a few miles away, were the dams built by beavers, 
 which were plentiful on both rivers. Muskrats were also 
 abundant. 
 
 The place was a fort in name only ; it was in a bend of the 
 river, whose course was marked by a fringe of woods in places, 
 while all else was a bleak, level prairie as far as the eye could 
 see. Two companies of my regiment had arrived here from 
 Fort Randall in the spring and had built the customary log 
 huts, which they were now occupying, in the woods on the 
 low bottom-land of the river. Two other companies made the 
 long march from Fort Laramie, via Fort Randall, and had 
 arrived here in midsummer. These companies were engaged in 
 building permanent quarters of hewn logs, with board floors 
 and shingled roofs, on the plateau which formed the edge 
 of the prairie. The soldiers' quarters consisted of one large 
 room to house an entire company with a wing for the kitchen 
 and mess-room. These buildings had not yet been completed 
 upon our arrival and the two companies were in camp in Sibley 
 tents. It was the end of September, the nights were getting cold 
 and we had an occasional white frost in the morning ; we were 
 a few degrees further north than at Fort Pierre and on a higher 
 elevation. 
 
 Our detachment of recruits was apportioned to the different 
 
 164 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 companies and I rejoined Company D, in which I had served 
 during my first enlistment. I missed a number of my old com- 
 rades they had been discharged and had scattered throughout 
 the West but most of the former non-commissioned officers 
 had re-enlisted. The first, or orderly sergeant, as he was also 
 called, had me appointed as company clerk, which was an easy 
 job and excused me from guard duty and from work upon the 
 new quarters. This lasted for about two months, when we had 
 a dispute and I was ordered back to do duty the same as any 
 other private. 
 
 Fort Abercrombie was a dreary, lonesome place. The Chip- 
 pawa Indians seldom came there and only in small parties and 
 for a short stay. Their villages were much farther north as 
 far as Pembina, near the British lines. 
 
 A paymaster arrived at the post shortly after we did, accom- 
 panied by Major Irving McDowell, who was an assistant 
 inspector general. He was a fine looking and apparently genial 
 officer. He made a thorough inspection of the post and the 
 soldiers. I little thought then that I would next see him in 
 Washington after the battle of Bull Run, a defeated general. 
 The commander of the post was Major Hannibal Day of the 
 Second Infantry, a dignified old gentleman with long white 
 hair and beard and a cold austere look in his eyes. The com- 
 pany commanders were Captains Christopher S. Lovell and 
 Deluzier Davidson; a first lieutenant was in command of the 
 third company, and my own was commanded by Second Lieu- 
 tenant Wm. H. Jordan of the Ninth Infantry, who was tempo- 
 rarily attached to my regiment, our captain being absent on 
 furlough and the first lieutenant on recruiting service in New 
 York city. A few other second lieutenants and the surgeon 
 made up the complement of officers at this time. 
 
 In October we began to have frosts and some snow; the 
 Sibley tents were cold and uncomfortable, as no sheet-iron 
 stoves had been provided and when we attempted to build 
 fires in them the smoke drove us out. This led to various con- 
 trivances to warm our tents. In my own we dug a deep pit on 
 one side and a covered trench with two lateral branches extend- 
 
 165 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing from it under the dirt floor, with openings outside of the 
 tent for the smoke to escape from the fire which was built in 
 the pit. This system of heating kept the tent comfortably warm 
 except when the wind was contrary. 
 
 A great snow-storm and blizzard struck us in November and 
 caused much suffering. Fortunately our quarters were com- 
 pleted about the end of the month; we moved in and enjoyed 
 the comfort of sleeping in bunks on bedsacks filled with dried 
 leaves, and warming ourselves at the two stoves with which our 
 quarters were provided, although the large room except directly 
 around the stoves was freezing cold. In January and Febru- 
 ary the thermometer sometimes fell to more than forty degrees 
 below zero. We had a number of frost-bite cases in our little 
 log-house hospital some of them very severe before our 
 unsympathetic post commander issued an order to relieve all 
 sentinels except Post No. 1, in front of the guard house, who, 
 with the temperature twenty degrees minus zero, was to be 
 relieved every thirty minutes. 
 
 I had to take my tour of guard duty about once a week and 
 was on post for two hours at a time with four hours off. I 
 was warmly clothed, but when the temperature was down to 
 thirty or lower I was chilled to the bone in less than an hour. 
 In the night I often leaned my gun against a snowbank and beat 
 my hands against my shoulders vigorously and ran to and fro 
 the extent of my beat to keep my feet from freezing. On my 
 hands I wore a pair of heavy woolen gloves and over them 
 mittens made of buffalo skin with the hair on the inside, yet my 
 fingers became so numb with the cold that, if I had had occasion 
 to fire off my gun, I could not have reloaded it. From a 
 board fence close to my post the intense cold forced out nails, 
 which whirred through the air with a whizzing sound. 
 
 Wolves were plentiful; they came howling around our 
 kitchens at night and close to the sentinels less than a hundred 
 feet away sometimes, when I shouted and rushed at them with 
 my bayonet to scare them away. When a horse or a mule died, 
 he was dragged out on the prairie a short distance and there 
 devoured by the wolves. Traps were set in the snow about the 
 
 166 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 carcass and many wolves were caught, while the others picked 
 the bones clean. 
 
 I was frequently excused from the severe guard duty by 
 being selected as commanding officer's orderly. This was a 
 reward for the soldier whose clothing, arms and equipment the 
 adjutant considered the cleanest and neatest. A speck of rust or 
 a small spot on the clothing often put a man out of the race. 
 There was great rivalry for this selection among the soldiers, 
 for the orderly had an easy time. He could sit in a warm room 
 in the commanding officer's quarters, carry a few messages 
 during the day and sleep in his own bunk all night. 
 
 During the long, dreary winter we kept within doors, when 
 not on duty, for the inclemency of the weather permitted but 
 little out-of-door exercise. In compliance with Captain Gard- 
 ner's advice, I borrowed text-books from Lieutenant Jordan, 
 who was but lately from West Point, also from some other 
 officers, and studied them all through the winter during my 
 spare time. Some soldiers read papers and magazines, but the 
 favorite pastime was playing checkers and cards; the games 
 were euchre, seven-up, forty-five and poker, at which the stakes 
 were dried beans instead of money. 
 
 An enterprising citizen established an express service 
 between St. Paul and Fort Abercrombie with way-stations for 
 the changing of drivers and horses. This gave us a mail 
 service once a week, when the weather permitted, and kept us 
 in touch with the world. The expressman took orders from 
 us for any articles we wished from St. Paul and brought up 
 the packages, as well as goods for the sutler. 
 
 There was a Scotchman in my company, whom we called 
 Sandy, who was an excellent cook and a born caterer. During 
 the winter he proposed to get up a dinner to be followed by 
 dancing in the company's mess-room. Permission was obtained 
 for "Sandy's ball," as we called it; most of the company sub- 
 scribed, as well as some soldiers from the other companies. 
 Sandy shrewdly collected the cash and gave no credit, then he 
 sent to St. Paul for stone china dishes, for we had only tin 
 cups and plates in our mess-room. He ordered hams, tongues, 
 
 167 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 sardines, pickles, preserves, lemons, etc., not forgetting a few 
 dozen bottles of American champagne, which had been care- 
 fully packed with sawdust into barrels both for safety and con- 
 cealment. These goods arrived in due time and Sandy was a 
 busy man, cooking hams and venison and baking pies and cakes. 
 We helped him put up a few decorations and a lot of candles 
 around the walls. 
 
 All was ready when the eventful evening arrived. The dinner 
 was to be at eight o'clock, followed by dancing until midnight, 
 with two fiddlers and a flute player to furnish the music. A 
 half dozen soldiers' wives were the only ladies present ; but we 
 had as many more of the younger men dressed up in borrowed 
 female clothes. The dinner was voted a great success and we 
 lauded Sandy. We had bottled ale from the sutler's and topped 
 off with whiskey punch, which continued to be served through- 
 out the evening. Then the tables and benches were moved 
 into a corner, the dishes piled on them, and the dancing com- 
 menced. 
 
 Everything went well for a while and we had lots of fun, 
 until trouble started between the fiddlers. One of them, Mike 
 Burns, had partaken of too much punch and wanted to play an 
 Irish jig, while his German partner held out for a waltz. This 
 enraged Mike so that he exclaimed, "Oi despises no nation, but 
 damn the Dutch!" and smashed his fiddle over his partner's 
 head. The combatants were separated, Mike was put out, order 
 restored and the dancing resumed. While the dance went on 
 Sandy had been busy in the kitchen selling Ohio champagne to 
 the soldiers at steep prices. This, together with liberal quantities 
 of whiskey punch, began to show its effects and the fun became 
 fast and furious, until near midnight a fight started in one end 
 of the room and in a moment a dozen or more of the soldiers 
 were in the midst of it. Bottles and dishes were thrown about 
 the room ; the women screamed and rushed for the door ; Sandy 
 was up on a table waving his arms and shouting, "Quit yer 
 fechting! dinna be breaking me dishes, I'm a puir mon," when 
 the table upset and he went down to the floor among his broken 
 dishes. The officer of the day and a few files of the guard, 
 
 168 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 together with the corporal, now made their appearance and 
 quelled the disturbance. All those who showed marks of having 
 been fighting or were drunk were marched off to the guard- 
 house and all others ordered to their quarters. 
 
 Sandy's ball had a sad sequel for him. He was a canny Scot 
 and took good care of his bawbees (pence), saving much of his 
 pay for some years, and it was assumed that he had made 
 money out of the ball. A few weeks later, during midwinter, 
 Sandy was missing for nearly a week and when he was at last 
 brought back to the post in the express sleigh he had to be put 
 into the hospital with his feet so badly frozen that all of his toes 
 on both feet had to be amputated. He remained in the hospital 
 until spring, when he was able to go about on crutches. He was 
 then dishonorably discharged, forfeiting his pay due and all 
 allowances. In the woods close to the post we built a shack 
 for him to live in, also a stable, for he bought some cows and 
 had them sent up from the settlements. There he made his 
 living by selling milk and butter to the soldiers and ice cream, 
 at which he was an adept. By the time we left the post he 
 had discarded his crutches and was able to hobble about on his 
 stumps. 
 
 Newspapers kept us informed of what transpired in the 
 southern states after Lincoln's election to the presidency in 
 November ; how the violent threats of the south culminated in 
 the secession of South Carolina from the Union on December 
 twentieth, 1860, soon to be followed by other southern states. 
 We read how Major Anderson transferred his small force from 
 Fort Moultry to Sumpter, and about the firing on the steamer 
 "Star of the West" with reinforcements for Fort Sumpter. We 
 also heard that the Secretary of War, John B. Floyd, was 
 accused of robbing the Indian Trust Funds and of depleting the 
 Northern arsenals of arms and ammunition and of sending 
 them south while still in office ; also how in February General 
 Twiggs traitorously surrendered the Seventh United States In- 
 fantry and other troops serving in Texas to the Confederacy ; 
 and how the rank and file refused the inducements held out to 
 them to join the Confederate army, but were paroled and later 
 
 169 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 on exchanged and did valiant service in the Union army, while 
 a large number of their officers joined the standard of the 
 enemy. We discussed these events earnestly and were much 
 stirred when we learned that Fort Sumpter had been bombard- 
 ed on April twelfth and evacuated by Major Anderson. We 
 then understood that this was the commencement of war. 
 
 Militia soldiers from Pennsylvania reached Washington a 
 few days later and on the fifteenth of April the President 
 called out seventy-five thousand volunteers to serve for three 
 months. Another proclamation of the President, dated May 
 third for an increase of the regular army by twenty-two thou- 
 sand and of the navy by eighteen thousand, was read to us on 
 dress parade. In the meantime hundreds of the officers of the 
 regular army had resigned their commissions and nearly all 
 joined the Confederacy, among them my captain and some other 
 officers of my regiment. To the credit of the rank and file be 
 it said that, with very few exceptions, they remained loyal to 
 the Government in the hour of its need. We began to wonder 
 whether we were likely to take any part in putting down the 
 rebellion before it was over, or whether we were to remain here 
 in the Indian country. 
 
 Spring had come. When the snow had melted and the 
 prairie became dry, we began to drill from three to four hours 
 each day except on Saturday afternoons and Sundays. We had 
 company, battalion, skirmish and bayonet drills, as well as 
 target practice, and in a few months we became very expert in 
 all of them. I was fond of the free action in skirmish drill, but 
 did not like drilling in close formation. I also liked the bayonet 
 exercise, and at target practice few could show a better score. 
 
 When not on duty we spent much of our time at the river, 
 fishing, and swimming after the water had become warm 
 enough. A favorite diversion was to go up the river a few miles 
 and build a small raft of sticks to hold our clothes, swimming 
 and pushing the raft before us down the current which flowed 
 through sha'dy woods. A small party of Chippawa Indians and 
 squaws appeared a few times during the early summer and 
 danced for rations, which was the only thing that relieved the 
 monotony at this post. 
 
 170 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We read of small engagements that had taken place between 
 the opposing forces in various parts of the country and that an 
 army was being concentrated at Washington, where two com- 
 panies of our regiment from Fort Snelling, Minnesota, had 
 gone. We envied these companies ; they had a chance to see 
 something of the war, which would soon be over, as we 
 imagined, while we fretted and chafed in this lonely, far-off 
 place, seemingly forgotten by the Government. At last, about 
 the middle of July, we received the joyful news that two com- 
 panies of the Second Minnesota Volunteers were on the way 
 from St. Paul to relieve us and that we were ordered to Wash- 
 ington. In a few days the two companies arrived, weary and 
 footsore from their long march. Most of them were very 
 young lads who, though strong and hearty, were unaccustomed 
 to marching on the burning hot prairies in midsummer. They 
 had arms and accoutrements, but as yet no uniforms. We gave 
 them a hearty reception, fraternized with them and helped to 
 make them comfortable in their camp until they could occupy 
 our quarters. 
 
 We packed our dress uniforms, hats and surplus clothing into 
 packing-cases from the quartermaster's department, which were 
 received some time after our arrival in Washington. In a few 
 days our wagon-train was made up, we put our knapsacks on 
 board, and left Fort Abercrombie without any regrets, early on 
 a forenoon, amidst mutual cheering and a salute of "Present 
 arms!" from the battalion of volunteers. All of the officers' 
 ladies, as they called themselves, and the soldiers' wives and 
 children went with us, riding in ambulances and in the army 
 wagons. 
 
 Our first day's march ended at Breckenridge ; our second 
 day's march was a much longer one we pursued about the 
 same route as in the previous fall when we came up from St. 
 Paul, but did not have the short marches we had enjoyed with 
 the easy-going Captain Davidson. We soon found out that 
 Major Hannibal Day was forcing us along at a rate of from 
 twenty-four to thirty miles a day, which was very severe in the 
 scorching heat of a July sun on the prairies. A number of men 
 
 171 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 gave out on these long marches and were picked up by the rear- 
 guard and put into the wagons. To be sure, we were anxious 
 to get to Washington before the war would be over, but we did 
 not want to kill ourselves in trying to get there. The men 
 cursed the Major for an old tyrant, not loud but very deep. 
 
 We had completed about one-half of our journey to St. Paul 
 when we encountered the express wagon carrying the mail to 
 Fort Abercrombie and from newspapers received learned of 
 the disaster and rout of the Union Army at Bull Run. This sad 
 news staggered us we could scarcely believe it. The northern 
 press, from which we derived our information and shaped our 
 opinions, had boasted so much about the patriotism and valor 
 of the militia, who so promptly responded to the President's 
 first call for troops, that we had fondly believed a single real 
 battle would be enough to give the Confederacy a terrible lesson 
 and break up the rebellion. We were indignant at the conduct of 
 some of the Union troops, as we then understood it, the news 
 of Bull Run cast a deep gloom over our battalion and we real- 
 ized that we were likely to arrive at Washington in ample time 
 to see something of the war. 
 
 Major Day, upon whom we looked as a very unfeeling man, 
 allowed us some unusual privileges on this march. At St. 
 Cloud a brewery had been erected, and when we were within 
 four days' march of the town one forenoon we met a two-horse 
 wagon loaded with kegs of lager beer, packed in ice and care- 
 fully covered over to shield it from the fierce rays of the sun. 
 There was a man on the wagon beside the driver who, we 
 noticed, had some talk with the Major and then turned the 
 wagon around and followed our column until we halted for a 
 rest, when we learned that each man who desired to do so might 
 purchase a quart cup of beer for ten cents (a non-commissioned 
 officer saw to it that no one got more than a quart). A rush 
 was made for the beer wagon and keg after keg was tapped. It 
 tasted delicious and cheered us. The officers also drank it, 
 sending their servants for it ; indeed, old Major Day, himself, 
 did not disdain it. The beer wagon met us every day there- 
 after, near noontime, all the way down to St. Paul, and when it 
 
 172 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 appeared we halted for a longer rest at the next convenient 
 place and ate our lunch. 
 
 The Union sentiment was strong in the few small settlements 
 through which we passed. At St. Cloud, where we encamped 
 about a mile from town and rested for a day, the citizens gave 
 us a generous welcome. A lady named Jane G. C. Swisshelm, 
 who edited a newspaper there called "The Visitor," assisted by 
 a committee of citizens and accompanied by the St. Cloud band, 
 drove out to our camp, bringing with them a fine lunch and 
 kegs of beer, for which we were very grateful. We gave her 
 and the citizens of St. Cloud three rousing cheers when they 
 departed. 
 
 The last day's march but one brought us to Minneapolis, 
 where we encamped for the night on some fields just outside of 
 the town, too tired and worn out to care for anything but to 
 lie down and rest. This had been the hardest day's march of 
 all Major Day had made us cover thirty-two miles. Many 
 men dropped out along the dusty road, overcome by the heat 
 and fatigue ; some fell asleep in shady places and did not reach 
 camp until midnight. I was one of only a third of my company 
 that was able to keep in the ranks until we reached camp. As 
 the race is not always to the swift, so marching is not always 
 the forte of the biggest and strongest men in a company of 
 soldiers. 
 
 Next morning we resumed our march somewhat later than 
 was customary, passing through Minneapolis, which was but a 
 small town then, on to St. Paul, about ten miles away. The 
 road between the two places had only farms and a few clusters 
 of houses scattered along it. Upon arriving at St. Paul we 
 marched to the steamboat wharf with closed ranks and received 
 much attention and cheering from the citizens. When our 
 wagon-train arrived, we got our knapsacks and the four com- 
 panies boarded a steamboat which was waiting for us ; we 
 stowed ourselves away wherever we could find room, except on 
 the cabin deck, which was reserved for passengers. There was 
 no railroad at St. Paul then. We were to go down the Mississ- 
 ippi as far as La Crosse, Wisconsin, and take the cars there. 
 
 173 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We sailed in the early afternoon ; the boat was crowded and 
 the weather very hot. When night came on my bunkie and I, 
 along with others, spread our blankets on the hurricane deck 
 back of the smokestacks. We took off our shoes and blouses, 
 used our knapsacks for pillows and the starry sky for a cover- 
 ing. Being very tired, we were soon in a deep sleep. During 
 the night I was awakened by a terrific yell and saw that my 
 bunkie was sitting up, clutching at his chest and roaring with 
 pain. I was confused, and for a moment I imagined the boat 
 was on fire, as I saw fiery sparks in the air. We soon discovered 
 the cause of the trouble. A large red-hot cinder from the 
 smokestack (the boat burned wood for fuel and had high- 
 pressure engines) had lodged on his bare breast through his 
 open shirt and burned him severely enough to raise a large 
 blister. We moved our bed to a safer place and slept peace- 
 fully for the remainder of the hot night. 
 
 Early in the afternoon on the following day we disembarked 
 at La Crosse, where we noticed a train made up of one passen- 
 ger car and a lot of empty box cars which was apparently wait- 
 ing for us. We were indignant and loudly expressed our 
 determination not to enter these cars and travel like cattle. The 
 officers who, no doubt, overheard us, must have been of the 
 same opinion, for we were not ordered into the cars but stacked 
 arms and waited about three hours until a number of cars with 
 hard wooden seats came along to replace the others. We 
 embarked and started for Chicago. 
 
 After a weary night we arrived in Chicago the next day, 
 where a change of cars was made, much for the better, as we 
 got cushioned seats this time. We remained there about two 
 hours and during that time crowds of citizens surrounded us 
 and served us with coffee, sandwiches and pies, and presented 
 us with cigars and tobacco. At Chicago we lost two men by 
 desertion the only ones on the entire trip. We also lost 
 Captain Davidson, who remained behind and later on resigned 
 his commission. He was an elderly man, very corpulent and 
 unable to stand the hardships of a campaign. 
 
 All through the loyal western states across which we 
 
 174 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 traveled there had been an uprising for the Union. The people 
 were enthusiastic and gave us a hearty welcome wherever we 
 stopped. At a town in Indiana, where we arrived near mid- 
 night, the citizens must have been informed of our coming. 
 The station platform was crowded with people and they had 
 a band playing patriotic airs. A group of young ladies, all 
 dressed in white and wearing red-white-and-blue sashes, sang 
 'The Star Spangled Banner" for us. Since the news of defeat 
 at Bull Run the people were ready to make any sacrifice; the 
 Northern papers clamored for the formation of a new army 
 and an immediate advance "on to Richmond." It must have 
 been during the time of this national excitement and enthusiasm 
 that Josh Billings wrote the memorable words, "The Union 
 must and shall be preserved, if I sacrifice all my wife's rela- 
 tions." 
 
 On our arrival in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, in the forenoon, 
 the depot was jammed with people. Provisions enough for a 
 feast and baskets of fruit were brought into our cars ; it seemed 
 as though everyone in the crowd wished to do something for us. 
 After leaving Harrisburg we received orders to load our rifles, 
 for there were rumors of expected trouble in Baltimore while 
 the troops were traversing the city from one depot to another, 
 for at this time the trains did not pass through to the Washing- 
 ton depot and it was necessary to march a long distance through 
 the streets of the city. We reached Baltimore about four in 
 the afternoon, formed ranks in the street, fixed bayonets and 
 marched by fours in close order with the venerable Major 
 Hannibal Day leading us. We carried our knapsacks, haver- 
 sacks and canteens ; we were dusty and dirty and bronzed by 
 the hot sun on our recent march across the prairies. There 
 were four companies of us and we looked more seasoned and 
 determined than the militia troops that had passed through 
 Baltimore before. We marched silently, only words of com- 
 mand being heard. There were many people on the streets 
 regarding us with close attention. Sometimes a ruffian yelled 
 out, "Bull Run !" which provoked no reply from us. A large, 
 red-headed woman leaning out of a third-story window shouted, 
 
 175 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 "Three cheers for Jeff Davis !" but got very scant encourage- 
 ment from the people in the street. 
 
 We reached the depot without having any trouble, but were 
 kept waiting there a long time and it was quite dusk in the 
 evening when we embarked for Washington, arriving at the 
 national capitol late in the evening. In Washington we formed 
 ranks and marched to the "Soldiers' Rest," a large shed-building 
 north of the capitol and but a short distance from it, where 
 newly arrived troops received food and rested for a short time 
 before going to their camps or quarters. The place had a board 
 floor on which we spread our blankets. We were glad to 
 stretch ourselves for we were very tired and stiff after our ride 
 of three days and nights in a cramped position on the narrow 
 seats of the cars. I think I fell asleep as soon as I lay down, 
 and no ordinary noise could have waked me up before morning. 
 
 176 
 
PART VIII. 
 SERVICE IN WASHINGTON AND GEORGETOWN, D. C. f 1861-1862. 
 
 WHEN I awoke on my first morning in Washington, I 
 hastened out of doors to have a look around. The 
 first prominent object I saw was the great white 
 capitol building, the steel ribs of its unfinished dome strongly 
 outlined against a clear sky. I took a long look at everything 
 in view and then answered roll-call and had breakfast in the 
 "Soldiers' Rest," after which we formed ranks in the street, 
 where we "stacked arms" and waited for orders, watching 
 meanwhile the arrival of some volunteer troops who had just 
 come in on the cars and marched into the "Soldiers' Rest." 
 Troops were beginning to arrive daily in large numbers in 
 response to the President's call for "four hundred thousand 
 more." About ten o'clock in the forenoon we received orders 
 to "fall in" and the four companies separated, being sent to 
 quarters in different parts of the city. 
 
 My company marched up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the 
 White House. On the way some ladies presented each man 
 with a Havelock, which is a cover for the forage cap and was 
 made of white muslin and with a hood to protect the back of 
 the head and neck from the sun's rays. They had been much 
 worn by English soldiers in India during Major-General Sir 
 Henry Havelock's time, and looked very fine when an entire 
 regiment wore them on parade; but in less than a year their 
 use was abandoned, as they were too conspicuous and kept 
 the air from our necks. Our march ended at a house on the 
 north side of K, near Eighteenth Street, which was to be our 
 quarters. It was a three-story and basement private dwelling 
 of the usual type and was devoid of any furniture. It belonged 
 
 177 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 to a secessionist and, like a number of others, had been taken 
 charge of by the Government. We drew rations and did our 
 cooking in the basement and used the upper floors for sleeping, 
 at night spreading our blankets on the bare floor. We had only 
 light duties to perform, which left us plenty of time to wander 
 about the city, visit the capitol and other public buildings. Only 
 the principal streets in Washington were paved at this time, the 
 remainder were mud roads rendered almost impassable in rainy 
 weather by the artillery and army wagons. 
 
 It was the first week in August; most of the three-months' 
 warriors had left for their homes and order was being 
 restored. The streets were patroled by regulars and all soldiers 
 found in the city without permission were arrested, taken to a 
 central guard-house and then returned to their respective com- 
 mands. General George B. McClellan had been called to Wash- 
 ington immediately after the battle of Bull Run and placed in 
 command of the Army of the Potomac. He was busy with his 
 staff in organizing a great army. Our quarters being but a 
 short distance from the headquarters of General McClellan, I 
 had frequent opportunities of seeing him there and also riding 
 through the streets, followed by a brilliant staff, among whom 
 were a number of foreign officers in showy uniforms adorned 
 with decorations and much gold lace. I also saw President 
 Lincoln on the avenue a few times and saw his boys in Zouave 
 uniforms "playing soldier" with some companions on the lawn 
 in front of the White House. 
 
 There were probably not more than fifty thousand troops in 
 and about Washington upon our arrival, but they soon began 
 to come in at a rate of forty thousand a month, so that by the 
 first of November, 1861, the numbers had reached one hundred 
 and seventy thousand. They were young men who enlisted for 
 three years or the duration of the war ; they were patriotic and 
 earnest and were not tempted to enlist by the payment of 
 bounties. These soldiers became the flower of the Army of the 
 Potomac and, I think, were not equaled by any subsequent 
 levies. 
 
 A thousand regular soldiers had preceded our small command 
 
 178 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 to Washington and about eight hundred of them had been in 
 the engagement at Bull Run, including some marines. Among 
 them were also the two companies of our regiment previously 
 mentioned. From them we learned many details of what 
 occurred on that disastrous day. This small body of eight 
 hundred regulars and marines were unaffected by the panic and 
 covered the retreat of the Federal Army. Many of the regulars 
 were quartered near the then outskirts of the city on the north 
 side in hastily constructed wooden buildings, which were called 
 Kalorama Barracks. There were at that time six companies of 
 my regiment in Washington, also the regiment headquarters 
 and the band. Four other companies were with the western 
 armies and remained there throughout the war. During my 
 entire ten years' service I never saw more than six companies 
 of the regiment together at one time. 
 
 After a stay of about two weeks in the K Street house in 
 Washington my company (D) and Company A were ordered to 
 Georgetown and quartered in Forrest Hall, a large sized build- 
 ing on the corner of what were then called High and Gay 
 Streets. This building is still standing at this date (1913). 
 There was a large entertainment hall on the second floor with 
 a raised stage at one end and many wooden benches on the 
 floor. Company A occupied this apartment, while my company 
 took the third floor, which was divided into rooms. We slept 
 on the bare floors, as we had done in K Street, but had the ad- 
 ditional comfort of some of the wooden benches to sit on. The 
 first floor was used for a guard-house with a large room for 
 prisoners brought in by the patrols ; the basement, which had an 
 alley on the rear leading out into Gay Street, was used for our 
 kitchen. 
 
 On the hot day that we moved into this building a severe 
 thunderstorm broke out in the afternoon and the rain fell in 
 torrents. We thought this a good opportunity to get a refresh- 
 ing bath, and as the high roof of the building could not be 
 overlooked from any of the houses in the neighborhood, a 
 number of us took off our clothing and ascended to the roof 
 and remained there until the storm was over ; later on we took 
 
 179 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 our baths in Rock Creek and our swims in the Potomac above 
 the Aqueduct Bridge. 
 
 It was the custom then in the regular army for every private 
 soldier to serve a term of two weeks as company cook. There 
 were two cooks to each company, a head cook and an assistant. 
 After serving as assistant for a week, one then became chef, 
 unless the chef was satisfactory and desired to remain longer. 
 It often happened that both of the cooks remained for months ; 
 they got no extra pay, but were relieved from all other duties 
 and had some perquisites in selling soap-grease, if there was a 
 market for it. It was my hard luck to be detailed as assistant 
 cook after we arrived at Forrest Hall, much to my disgust. 
 After a week's service I was declared to be a failure and re- 
 turned to company duty. 
 
 A few days later a vacancy occurred and I was promoted to 
 corporal with two dollars per month additional pay, making 
 fifteen dollars per month, for the pay of the army had been 
 raised from eleven to thirteen dollars per month for a private 
 soldier. About this time we received four months' pay in 
 greenbacks with coupons attached to the larger notes the ten 
 and twenty dollar bills, I think. Heretofore we had always 
 been paid in gold and silver. 
 
 We were busy while in Georgetown ; we kept a main guard 
 with a sergeant at the hall in charge of the prisoners, a corporal 
 and six privates at the Aqueduct Bridge, and the same at the 
 foot of High Street, where there was a flat-boat rope ferry to 
 Analostan Island in the Potomac opposite Georgetown. The 
 two companies in Georgetown did not have their full comple- 
 ment of men ; some had been detailed as clerks in the War 
 Department, and others as orderlies at army headquarters on 
 "extra duty," as it was called. This made us somewhat short 
 on the "present for duty" number and caused a tour of twenty- 
 four hours on guard every three days or less. We also did 
 considerable drilling in company and skirmish drills, sometimes 
 brigade drills and a few reviews for General McClellan and 
 staff. We had to patrol the streets of Geogretown from eight 
 A. M. till ten P. M. for two hours on and two off. The patrol 
 
 180 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was a squad of eight privates under a sergeant or a corporal, 
 often accompanied by an officer in the daytime. This patrol 
 had authority to enter saloons and other places and search them 
 for soldiers and demand their passes ; every soldier on the street 
 was halted, and if he had no pass or a poor excuse he was told 
 to fall into the ranks and march with the patrol until it repassed 
 or returned to the main guard, where he was turned over to the 
 sergeant, who recorded his name, company and regiment and 
 then locked him up. There was, however, considerable leniency 
 both on the part of the officers and the non-commissioned 
 officers in command of the patrol ; if the soldier were sober and 
 had some sort of a plausible excuse, he was often simply 
 ordered to get out of town quickly and return to his camp. It 
 was the drunks that gave us trouble, when we tried to march 
 them in the ranks. In some extreme cases we took them to the 
 guard-house in a borrowed hand-cart. One day the patrol 
 arrived just in time to save the "Eagle Bakery," where a 
 drunken soldier was wrecking the place because he failed to 
 get a baked eagle he had ordered. 
 
 About this time a very young officer named William Kicld, 
 who belonged to a prominent New York family, joined my 
 company as second lieutenant. He was a civil appointee and 
 knew very little about drill or military matters in general, but 
 was trying to learn. He was well liked by the men for his 
 genial nature. Often when I was on patrol with him he would 
 say, "Now, Corporal, you head her in any direction you like 
 and don't march too fast." He let many a soldier off with a 
 reprimand such as, "If I catch you in town again without a 
 pass I'll have you court-martialed and shot before sunrise." 
 Sometimes he stopped at a cigar store and bought cigars for the 
 patrol, which he handed to us when we were dismissed. Lieu- 
 tenant Kidd, to our great regret and sorrow, was killed in less 
 than a year at the second battle of Bull Run. 
 
 One evening I received word from a friend, a sergeant of a 
 New York regiment which was encamped a short distance from 
 Georgetown on the Tennalytown road that he had been arrested 
 by the patrol and wished me to try and have him released so 
 
 181 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that he might return to his camp that night, as he feared that 
 if he was returned to his regiment from the central guard house 
 it would mean the loss of his sergeant's stripes and reduction to 
 the ranks. I implored the sergeant of our main guard to release 
 him, but he refused as he had just reported the number of his 
 prisoners to the officer of the day. He agreed, however, to 
 make an exchange with me if I brought him another prisoner 
 when I went out on patrol from eight to ten that evening. I 
 started out with my squad at the appointed time. It was a 
 stormy night, the wind howled and the rain beat fiercely upon 
 us; the streets seemed deserted and there were no soldiers in 
 sight. Instead of resting at times in a sheltered place, as we 
 were accustomed to do in bad weather, I kept my patrol moving 
 and visited most of the places where soldiers were in the habit 
 of congregating, despite the grumbling of my squad. Our 
 time was nearly up and I had encountered but two or three 
 soldiers, whom I could not arrest as they showed me passes. I 
 was in despair, when suddenly, while passing along Bridge 
 Street on our return to the guard house, I caught a glimpse of a 
 blue uniform in the back room of a saloon, through a partly 
 opened door. I halted my squad and went into the saloon, 
 where I found a soldier asleep on a chair. I shook him and 
 demanded to see his pass. He was mildly inebriated, but 
 managed to explain that he was on duty as a nurse in the 
 hospital close by and did not require a pass in Georgetown, 
 but not having a pass was enough for me. I took him out, put 
 him into the ranks and turned him over to the sergeant of the 
 guard in exchange for my friend, who hurried off to his camp. 
 The man I arrested was soon released by the sergeant when he 
 satisfied him as to the truth of his story. 
 
 Every morning at eight o'clock when the guard was relieved, 
 the old guard was obliged to take the prisoners picked up during 
 the twenty- four hours and march them to the Central Guard 
 House in Washington, situated just off Pennsylvania Avenue 
 near the market. This was a long and tiresome tramp after a 
 night on guard. We often had a couple of dozen prisoners, 
 some of them unruly and others scarcely able to march after 
 
 182 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 their spree. After our return from the Central Guard House 
 the old guard was excused from duty and rested until retreat 
 that evening. The men whom we arrested in the streets were 
 volunteer soldiers, almost without exception, from the different 
 camps about Washington. 
 
 Occasionally I was corporal of the main guard at Forrest 
 Hall and was surprised to observe the effect of drink on the 
 prisoners at different times. They were all locked up together 
 in one large room with a sentinel outside of the door. The 
 prisoners from our own command, when we had any, were 
 confined in a smaller room. In the large room the prisoners 
 were sometimes hilarious and noisy with laughter, while at 
 other times they were sad and melancholy, many of them crying 
 for "home and mother," and others shedding silent tears. At 
 still other times they seemed to have imbibed fighting whiskey 
 and were quarrelsome, fighting fiercely among themselves or 
 against the guard who had to go in and separate them ; some we 
 could only subdue by tying their limbs. It was a job we did not 
 relish. Some of them threw bottles at the guards and other 
 objects which had escaped the sergeant's search at the time of 
 their admission. 
 
 Our two companies had the free run of Georgetown to go 
 where we pleased when not on duty, but if we crossed the Rock 
 Creek bridge and went into Washington without a pass, we 
 were in turn liable to be arrested by the provost-guard's patrol 
 and put into the Central Guard House. We were well posted 
 on the time and route of the patrols and knew how to elude 
 them. 
 
 Another of our duties was to furnish an escort to the ceme- 
 tery for all the soldiers who died in what was called the 
 Seminary Hospital located at Georgetown. The cemetery was 
 in the grounds of the Soldiers' Home, a long way from George- 
 town, a very tiresome march over a poor road. At these 
 funerals there was no music or ceremony of any kind ; no one 
 but the escort of eight privates and a corporal marched with 
 the ambulance which carried the corpse. On the arrival at the 
 cemetery we found only grave-diggers constantly busy digging 
 
 183 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 graves for the many soldiers who died in the hospitals or camps 
 in or about Washington. The coffin was unloaded and left on 
 the ground beside the grave to await the leisure of the grave- 
 diggers; the escort fired the three customary rounds of blank 
 cartridges over the coffin and hurried away. At some distance 
 from the cemetery, where the road was lonely, we climbed into 
 the ambulance and rode to the outskirts of Georgetown. During 
 the winter when the weather was bad and the mud ankle-deep 
 on the road, the escort took their chances and halted the 
 ambulance near a road-house about half-way fired the three 
 rounds and waited at the road-house playing cards until the 
 driver, whom they bound to secrecy, passed on his return. 
 This went on for some time until one day a firing squad was 
 discovered at it and punished. 
 
 Towards the close of 1861 many changes had taken place 
 among the officers of my regiment. Aside from the few who 
 had resigned to join the Confederate army, nearly all were 
 advanced in rank; colonels and majors and some captains 
 became brigadier-generals or colonels of volunteers. The 
 twelve new regiments added to the regular army absorbed 
 many of our captains and first lieutenants who gained a step 
 in rank by the transfer. The lower grades were filled mainly 
 by civilian appointments, fnany of them through influence more 
 than any adaptability for a military life, as was demonstrated 
 later on. The Government began to make some appointments 
 from the ranks and later on increased them. These men, 
 appointed from the ranks, as a rule made efficient and reliable 
 officers, whom the rank and file could respect. Dixon S. Miles 
 became colonel of my regiment and remained so until he was 
 killed at Harper 's Ferry in 1862, but we never saw him, as he 
 had a higher volunteer rank. All of our former field officers 
 were promoted and replaced by others, some of whom we 
 never saw. The regular army, small in numbers, was stripped 
 of many of its best officers. All through the war, companies 
 were largely in command of first lieutenants and regiments 
 were often commanded by senior captains. My company was 
 particularly unfortunate at this time in having for its captain, 
 
 184 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and serving with it, the lieutenant who had joined the regiment 
 in 1857 at Fort Randall whom we had dubbed our "Alcoholic 
 Lieutenant," and whose name I withhold because I cannot say 
 anything to his credit. He had gained the rank of captain by 
 seniority because of the general promotions at this time. Our 
 first lieutenant was William H. Jordan of the Ninth Infantry, 
 who had never as yet seen his own regiment in the West since 
 he left West Point in 1860. He was an estimable officer, who 
 remained with my company until he was severely wounded at 
 the battle of Games' Mill in 1862. Our second lieutenant was 
 William Kidd, who was killed in battle, as previously men- 
 tioned. Major William Chapman was in command of the six 
 companies of my regiment in Washington at this time ; he was 
 well along in years and retired early in the war. He was a 
 good disciplinarian and an excellent drill-master. 
 
 In the late fall of 1861 the regular troops in Washington, old 
 and new regiments, had been augmented to nearly three thou- 
 sand and were formed into a brigade under the command of 
 Major George Sykes of the Fourteenth Infantry, who held the 
 rank of brigadier-general of volunteers and later on became a 
 major-general. I think he was one of the best tacticians in the 
 army and a very capable officer. He drilled the brigade in 
 line of battle manoeuvres occasionally on a large field near the 
 Kalorama Barracks. We made a fine appearance in full uni- 
 form, marching down Pennsylvania Avenue and out Seventh 
 Street to the drill ground, with our bands playing and colors 
 flying. I liked this parade and drill; when we turned the 
 corner of Fifteenth Street and I looked down the avenue and 
 saw a great mass of bayonets glittering in the sun ahead of me 
 it was impressive a sight I had never witnessed in my pre- 
 vious service. Major Chapman, who commanded our bat- 
 talions, never made an error in executing General Sykes's 
 commands in these brigade drills, but, alas! some of the new 
 fledglings of first lieutenants in command of companies often 
 got tangled up ; this angered the major and caused him to say 
 sharply, "Mr. Long, face your company to the front! Mr. 
 Freeman, bring your company on the right by file into line! 
 
 185 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Mr. Goodrich, you are obliquing your company to the left 
 instead of to the right," etc., all of which was very annoying 
 to me, for it destroyed the movements of other companies and 
 hurt the pride I always had in marching and drilling correctly. 
 Our first sergeants were able to coach the inexperienced officers 
 and did so quietly on parade. Fortunately for my company, 
 our captain never appeared at brigade drills and Lieutenant 
 Jordan put us through our paces very creditably. The brigade 
 drills ended with a "Pass in review!" before General Sykes 
 and his aides-de-camp. This movement was often executed in 
 "double quick time," which gave rise to a story that the general 
 made us double quick because his little daughter used to say 
 to him, "Pa, make 'em twot !" which amused her greatly. The 
 general lived with his family in a house overlooking the parade 
 ground where they could see all the manoeuvres of the troops. 
 We were also reviewed on the same parade ground by General 
 McClellan and staff, but upon that occasion did not have to 
 trot. 
 
 I was often on guard at the Aqueduct Bridge and at the 
 Ferry and liked that duty much better than guarding prisoners. 
 The Chesapeake and Ohio canal crossed the Potomac river here 
 on its way to Alexandria, Virginia, by means of the Aqueduct 
 Bridge. At the breaking out of the war the water had been 
 shut off and the bridge solidly planked over to serve as a 
 roadway for pedestrians and vehicles. A small guard room 
 had been built for the shelter of the six men and corporal 
 composing the guard on the Georgetown side. A sentinel was 
 stationed on each side of the entrance to the bridge. Our 
 orders were to permit no soldier to pass or repass the bridge 
 without a properly signed and countersigned pass, and no civil- 
 ian without a pass from the provost-marshal's office in Wash- 
 ington. Officers unaccompanied by troops were also to show 
 passes, except those of high rank who were supposed to be 
 known to us. 
 
 We were also to search for and to prevent the smuggling of 
 liquor to the soldiers encamped on the opposite side of the 
 river; but I am afraid we were somewhat lax in carrying out 
 
 186 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that part of our orders, as we did not like to act as custom- 
 house inspectors, considering that unmilitary. If the person 
 halted carried a package or basket we generally took his or her 
 word for it that it contained no liquor and passed them on 
 without examination, except in cases of inebriety or when they 
 were insolent to the guard. 
 
 I think women did more smuggling of liquor than the men. 
 Many got passes from the provost-marshal to visit their soldier 
 relatives or friends encamped on the other side of the river. 
 They generally came on foot and carried baskets or packages 
 containing food and articles of clothing for the soldiers, as 
 they invariably informed the guard, and some became indignant 
 when they were asked the usual question about liquor. One 
 day as I was examining the pass of a large, good-natured- 
 looking woman with a fine broad smile, I heard a tinkling sound 
 with every movement she made and noticed that she wore 
 unusually large hoop skirts which made her look like an 
 animated haystack from the waist down. I asked her if she 
 carried any liquor about her and was met by an emphatic 
 denial. I put my hand on her waist and gave the skirt a shake 
 which caused an audible jingle of bottles, and asked her, 
 "What's that, Mama?" "Whisth! Sergeant, dear, shure it's 
 sody-wather for the bys!" she said laughingly. I was in a 
 dilemma. She evidently had bottles of liquor strung all around 
 her waist beneath the large hoops she wore; but I could not 
 take them from her without undressing her, which was incon- 
 venient at the time and place ; besides it was such a clever trick 
 that it deserved success, and I let her pass. 
 
 Some sutlers had permits to carry liquor for officers' messes 
 in their wagons; others carried barrels which they declared 
 contained beer or cider, which we were allowed to pass, as we 
 had no means of testing it anyway. 
 
 We got to know many of the sutlers by sight ; their wagons 
 bore the regimental designation to which they belonged and, 
 as we knew they had passes, we did not always halt them. 
 Occasionally some of them tossed a package to the guards 
 containing cigars, tobacco, crackers and cheese or a can of 
 
 187 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 preserved fruit. The sentinels halted every passenger and 
 vehicle, with this exception, looked at the pass and in 
 cases of doubt called on the corporal of the guard for his 
 decision of the case. 
 
 Sometimes General McClellan, who, since General Scott's 
 retirement, was commander-in-chief of the United States 
 Army, passed over the bridge with his staff to review troops or 
 examine defences on the other side. It was here that I first 
 saw the Orleans princes, the Due de Chartres and the Comte 
 de Paris, who were aides on his staff. The Due was a very 
 young looking man. 
 
 The Fourteenth New York Volunteers, better known as 
 Colonel Fowler's Fourteenth Brooklyn Regiment, were en- 
 camped on Arlington Heights and guarded the Virginia end of 
 the bridge. We became acquainted with many of them and 
 were on friendly terms, often letting some of them pass into 
 Georgetown at night, cautioning them to look sharply for the 
 officer of the day on their return. 
 
 When my guard was relieved in the morning, we discharged 
 our rifles into the river, firing at some floating object, instead 
 of drawing the charges ; sometimes I threw an empty bottle 
 into the river and frequently knocked off the neck with a ball 
 from my rifle. 
 
 While on guard at the bridge I had many opportunities to 
 observe the uniforms, arms and equipments of the volunteer 
 soldiers who crossed and went into camp on the other side. 
 A few of the regiments were armed with Springfield rifles, as 
 we were, but the greater part of them had arms of foreign 
 manufacture; there were English rifles, Belgian and Austrian 
 muskets and even some of the old "smooth-bores" of the 
 Mexican War time, which the traitor, Secretary of War 
 Floyd, had not deemed worthy of removal from the Northern 
 arsenals. The Government had hastily purchased these arms 
 abroad and as all the calibres differed, serious confusion re- 
 sulted sometimes through issuing the wrong ammunition. It 
 was more than a year before there was anything like uniform- 
 ity in the arms of the infantry regiments. Their uniforms 
 
 188 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 were also diversified ; many still wore the gray uniforms issued 
 to them by the states they came from; some had a sort of 
 German uniform ; and the Garibaldi Guard, an Italian one ; the 
 Fifty-fifth New York Volunteers, Colonel De Trobriand, wore 
 a distinctly French uniform, including the red breeches and 
 "kepi." Another distinct uniform was that of the Chasseurs 
 d'Afrique, and there were others; also a number of Zouave 
 regiments, some with red breeches and some with blue, some 
 wearing white turbans and some only a red Fez cap on their 
 heads. In the course of a long time this was remedied and all 
 wore the regulation uniform, except some of the Zouave regi- 
 ments, who were permitted to retain theirs to the end of their 
 term of service. In the month of September at Fall's Church, 
 Virginia, one of our gray uniformed regiments was fired into 
 by another of our regiments who mistook them for "graybacks" 
 (rebels) and sixty or so were killed and wounded before the 
 mistake was discovered. Lamentable errors like this occurred 
 in various parts of the country at this time. 
 
 The neatness of the uniforms, the polished buttons and the 
 bright looking arms of the regular soldiers was often a matter 
 of interest to the volunteer officers. One day while on guard 
 an elderly captain, who unquestionably hailed from one of the 
 New England states, said to me, "Where be you men from? 
 I see you all got brand new guns !" I explained to him that we 
 were regular soldiers and had used these guns on the frontiers 
 for years. He exclaimed, "Dew tell ! Our boys got new guns 
 but they're all rusty. What do you clean yours with?" 
 
 In October happened the unfortunate engagement with the 
 Confederates at Ball's Bluff, some distance up the Potomac, 
 where Colonel Baker was killed, and we lost nearly a thousand 
 men killed, wounded and prisoners ; also by drowning. After 
 the battle corpses floated down the river, some of them being 
 washed ashore at Georgetown. 
 
 We preferred to do guard duty at the ferry to Analostan 
 Island at the foot of High Street because it was easy, as it took 
 the rope ferry boat a good while to make a trip and the traffic 
 was small. This spot was the landing place for fishing boats and 
 
 189 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 small sloops which brought oysters and vegetables to the 
 Georgetown market from down the river. The watermelon 
 season was still on and sloops came in loaded with them. We 
 watched the boats for the owners at night and in return they 
 gave the guard all the melons they could eat, and they were 
 delicious. It was the same later on with oysters; and last 
 came the sweet potatoes, the real Virginia or Maryland sweet 
 potatoes, which we roasted and feasted on. 
 
 One day when I was corporal of the guard at the ferry, the 
 sentinel called out, "Turn out the guard for the commanding 
 general !" and immediately the general replied, "Never mind the 
 guard !" He did not seem to care for my little command of six 
 men. General McClellan was in a carriage along with his chief 
 of staff, General Randolph B. Marcy, his father-in-law, but 
 without any escort. Although I knew them both, I went to 
 the side of the carriage, saluted and said, "Passes, gentlemen ?" 
 to which the General, returning the salute, replied, "I am the 
 commanding general." I said, "Pass on, General," which 
 ended the only conversation I had with him during the war. 
 The General had to wait for about ten minutes before the 
 carriage could be driven on the boat. During that time I could 
 observe him closely, while he conversed earnestly with General 
 Marcy. 
 
 A miserable looking tramp passed our little guard house at 
 the ferry one day and seeing a pair of old buckskin gloves 
 belonging to me, which I had left on a bench outside, promptly 
 appropriated them. The sentinel saw him and called me. He 
 ran, but I caught him, took the gloves from him and was about 
 to give him a kick and let him go, when one of the town con- 
 stables came up and insisted on arresting the man. Since the 
 town had been policed by the soldiers, the few constables had 
 had little to do and had grown rusty. This one seemed glad 
 to have a case and would not let his prisoner go, although I 
 entreated him to do so as the old gloves had no value. Next 
 day I received a subpoena to appear as a witness at the court 
 house at Four-and-a-half Street in Washington the following 
 morning, and with the subpoena I was handed a dollar and a 
 
 190 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 half, which was a godsend to me, as I had n't another cent at 
 the time. I blessed that tramp! I was provided with a pass 
 for all day, gave my evidence in court and heard the poor tramp 
 sentenced to thirty days in the workhouse; then I started in 
 to regale myself royally on the dollar-fifty. I had an oyster 
 fry at Harvey's on the avenue, and something to drink and 
 smoke. I spent the afternoon in the streets and 'I fear I was 
 rather more extravagant than a man in my company who 
 sometimes said, "Give me two cigars for five cents. I'm on a 
 spree and don't care how I spend my money." 
 
 My captain resided with his family in a house on Bridge 
 Street ; the unmarried officers boarded around town ; the mar- 
 ried soldiers had located their wives and children in cheap 
 apartments where some of them remained to the end of the 
 war. Some wives never saw their husbands again after we 
 went into Virginia. The captain in his capacity of command- 
 ing officer sometimes visited the guard late at night and had it 
 turned out for him and put us through the usual formalities. 
 I was always thankful that he omitted the inspection of arms, 
 for at times I would have hated to trust him with the handling 
 of a loaded gun. He sent for me occasionally to report to him 
 at his house and when I appeared he put me through a kind 
 of catechism commencing with, "Who made you a corporal?" 
 
 "The captain," I replied. 
 
 "Why did I make you a corporal?" 
 
 To which my answer was, "Because I was in the line of 
 promotion, I presume." 
 
 "No! because I then believed you to be a good and reliable 
 soldier. I see by the guard report that you were corporal of 
 the guard at the ferry on Tuesday night when a lot of common 
 soldiers were drinking in a saloon on Cherry Street and 
 wrecked the place. Why didn't you go there and arrest them ?" 
 
 "I could not hear the disturbance, it was too far away; 
 besides, the regulations for the army forbid my leaving the 
 guard without orders." 
 
 "I am the provost-marshal of this town and I make the 
 regulations. Don't let this happen again. I will not allow any 
 more common soldiers to go into saloons and will issue an 
 
 191 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 order to that effect. Remember, I can break you. Go back to 
 your quarters!" 
 
 He never issued that order he couldn't; neither did he 
 break me, although he used to send for me if there was any 
 scrape in town; no matter if I didn't have the remotest con- 
 nection with it, he suspected I was concerned in it. 
 
 A tragedy happened while we were quartered in Forrest 
 Hall. A soldier of Company A was on post No. 2 on the 
 Gay Street side of the building one winter night when Sergeant 
 Brennan of his company, who was the sergeant of the main 
 guard that night, went out of the guard-room and passed 
 around the corner of the building towards sentinel No. 2. In 
 a few minutes a shot was heard, and some of the guard running 
 out found Sergeant Brennan on the sidewalk, dead, with a 
 bullet through his heart, while the sentinel, with his gun in his 
 hands, calmly stood there awaiting arrest. What transpired 
 between them during the few minutes they were alone never 
 became known. The soldier admitted shooting the sergeant, 
 but made no explanation. It was well known, however, that 
 there was a bitter enmity between them dating back to the 
 time when they were on the frontier service. The body was 
 carried up into the Hall and laid out on some benches on the 
 second floor among the sergeant's sleeping comrades. A screen 
 was erected around the body next morning and some nuns 
 from Georgetown watched and prayed by it, until the next day 
 when the funeral services were held in the Catholic church. 
 The murderer was incarcerated in Washington and was speed- 
 ily tried by a general court-martial which sentenced him to be 
 hanged. A few weeks after the tragedy the entire regular 
 brigade marched to a field on the north side where many of 
 the finest houses are now built and formed a square about an 
 elevated gallows which had a flight of steps leading up to the 
 platform. The hangman (a soldier) was there adjusting and 
 soaping the rope. Presently the prisoner arrived in a closed 
 carriage, accompanied by a priest and a cavalry guard. The 
 culprit mounted the steps unassisted, and when he reached the 
 platform he stood erect, waved his right hand and exclaimed 
 
 192 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 in a firm voice, "Good-bye, soldiers! Good-bye!" His limbs 
 were quickly bound and a black cap drawn over his face ; the 
 trap was sprung and we saw the contortions of the lower part 
 of his body. In a few minutes his struggles ceased and the 
 soldiers marched silently back to their quarters. 
 
 We found the winter climate of Washington mild and 
 agreeable, as compared with our experience in Nebraska and 
 Dakota Territories. Our food was fairly good. We drew 
 bread from the Government bakeries; fresh beef was issued 
 to us at the foot of the unfinished Washington Monument, 
 where all the beef cattle for the troops in or about Washington 
 were slaughtered. Other provisions we drew from the general 
 commissary depot. 
 
 During our stay of about five months in Georgetown we had 
 become well acquainted with every nook and corner of it and 
 got along well with such of the citizens as were not Southern 
 sympathizers. At some of the houses to which we had been 
 invited we played games with the girls. At one house in par- 
 ticular where a few friends and I called for a while I flattered 
 myself that I was the daughter's favorite visitor; but, alas! 
 "fair and false was she!" for she placed her young affections 
 on a drummer of the band whose more gaudy uniform seemed 
 irresistible to her. 
 
 About the end of January, 1862, my company was ordered 
 to leave Forrest Hall and occupy a vacant two-story and attic 
 house on Pennsylvania Avenue between Eighteenth and Nine- 
 teenth Streets, facing a small triangular shaped park. This 
 house is still standing (1913) and is now numbered 1806. 
 We lived there as we did in the K Street house. Our duties 
 were much easier than in Georgetown ; the only guard duty we 
 had was one post in front of our own quarters. We picked up 
 a few recruits in Washington and I had to drill them sometimes 
 in the little park, to my chagrin and much to the amusement of 
 the spectators, as one of them named Davis was as awkward a 
 man as I ever tried to instruct. 
 
 Since the battle of Bull Run, the preceding July, the Army 
 of the Potomac had been assiduous in drill and had gained 
 
 193 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 much in discipline under that admirable organizer, General Mc- 
 Clellan, all exrcept the volunteer cavalry regiments. Many of 
 the men could not ride horses when they were enlisted. The 
 horses were untrained and were as green as their riders. In 
 a few slight skirmishes with the enemy on reconnaissances the 
 horses ran away at the first fire, in spite of the efforts of the 
 troopers to make a stand. It was a standing joke in the army 
 at that time that there was a reward of five dollars for any 
 soldier who had seen a dead cavalryman. It takes a long time 
 to drill cavalrymen and horses. It was not until after the 
 second year of the war that they became really effective and 
 after that they did splendid service. 
 
 The Northern papers were clamorous for the Army of the 
 Potomac to make a move on the enemy. "Why doesn't the 
 army move?" was the cry. In the West there had been some 
 success; General U. S. Grant had captured Fort Donaldson, 
 Tennessee, together with Generals Buckner and Tilghman and 
 thirteen thousand prisoners. President Lincoln, impatient at 
 General McClellan's delay and unwilling to agree to the Gen- 
 eral's plan of a campaign, appointed February twenty-second 
 as the day for a general movement of all the land and naval 
 forces ; but nothing was done. We observed the day by hang- 
 ing out a flag and by burning a lot of candles in the front 
 windows of our quarters at night. We were tired of garrison 
 duty and wanted to see some field service. Up to this time 
 the small regular army had had but little representation in any 
 of the conflicts and no share in what little glory there had 
 been. All seemed eager for real service, even the man in my 
 company who used to declare that he "enlisted to fight but 
 was not quarrelsome." 
 
 We knew that a campaign of some sort would soon take 
 place and began to prepare for it. All of our fancy uniforms 
 and articles of no service in the field were packed into cases, 
 turned over to the quartermaster's department and placed in 
 storage in the then unfinished Corcoran Art Gallery, situated 
 on Pennsylvania Avenue near our quarters, and none of us 
 ever saw them again. Shelter tents were issued to us. They 
 
 194 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 were an imitation of the "tent d'Abri" used in the French army 
 and consisted of a piece of thin canvas supposed to be rain- 
 proof. It was about six and a half by five feet and had buttons 
 and buttonholes along the edges, so that two or more pieces 
 could be joined together and stretched across a ridge pole sup- 
 ported on two posts, and the sides fastened to tent-pins driven 
 into the ground. This formed a small A-shaped tent, a "pup- 
 tent," as the soldiers called it, but was open at the front and 
 back. Generally three men got together and used the third piece 
 of canvas to cover one of the open ends the one to windward 
 The little tents were so low it was necessary to crawl into them 
 on hands and knees and we could barely retain a sitting 
 posture. Tent and ridge-poles of light wood, made to telescope 
 in convenient lengths, and small hardwood tent-pins were also 
 issued to us. All this had to be strapped to our knapsack and 
 increased the load to be carried on our back very considerably. 
 The poles and pins we threw away after a few days' trial in 
 the field and trusted to chance to pick up forked sticks and 
 ridge-poles in the woods. For this purpose I provided myself 
 with a small hatchet, and to even up loads my bunkie carried a 
 frying pan for our use. 
 
 On March eighth Centreville was discovered to have been 
 evacuated by the Rebels. Painted logs (Quaker guns) were 
 found mounted in the enemies' earthworks. Manassas was also 
 found to be evacuated ; at last the Army of the Potomac was 
 forced to move. General McClellan was relieved from the 
 supreme command of the United States Army and appointed 
 to command the Army of the Potomac. We received orders 
 to cross the Potomac into Virginia. The six companies, headed 
 by the band, formed on Pennsylvania Avenue in the forenoon 
 of the tenth of March and marched to the "Long Bridge" by 
 way of Fourteenth Street, after more than seven months in 
 Washington and Georgetown. The day was clear but cold. 
 It was my hard luck to be corporal of the guard bringing up 
 the rear of the column with a few prisoners and some drunks 
 who had been unable to resist the temptation of a final debauch. 
 I had some trouble to keep them from frolicking with the negro 
 
 195 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 wenches who had lined up on the sidewalks in large numbers 
 to hear the band play and see us marching off. The captain, 
 much to our satisfaction, did not accompany us. He managed 
 to get a medical certificate excusing him from field service and 
 remained in Georgetown on easy duty. 
 
 196 
 
PART IX. 
 
 THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN, 1862. 
 
 OUR real war experience commenced when we passed 
 over the Long Bridge at Washington into the enemy's 
 country Virginia. It is not my intention to write a 
 complete story of any part of the Civil War, nor to criticize 
 the general conduct of the war, but simply to describe my 
 personal experience and my observations, together with the 
 impressions made upon me and my comrades at the time. A 
 soldier in the ranks sees but little of a battle and, outside of 
 his own regiment or brigade, knows less of events that have 
 taken place or new movements to be made than a civilian can 
 learn from the newspapers. We often read articles about the 
 Army of the Potomac in papers several days old which con- 
 tained information that was news to us. 
 
 After passing the bridge we marched along the Fairfax 
 Court House road for a distance of about six miles, when we 
 were ordered to halt and go into camp beside the road at the 
 edge of a piece of woods. Our heavily loaded knapsacks 
 began to be a burden on this short march and next morning we 
 threw away things we thought we could dispense with. On the 
 frontiers we had wagons to carry our tents, rations and knap- 
 sacks, which made marching easier, although we marched 
 greater distances than a large army could. All through the 
 Civil War the soldier in the ranks furnished his own trans- 
 portation. In this camp we put up our little shelter tents for 
 the first time, but as I was on camp guard and had to relieve 
 sentinels every two hours, I sat on a log by a fire all night and 
 dozed between times. 
 
 Next morning we broke camp and counter-marched to within 
 about a mile of the town of Alexandria, where we went into 
 
 197 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 camp on some high ground, carefully putting up our tents 
 along lines forming company streets, as we expected to stay 
 for some time. My bunkie and I gathered some pine-needle 
 brush in the woods and spread it over the floor of our tent, as 
 the ground was frozen and damp. The nights were still cold. 
 We cooked our rations at fires which we built in the company 
 streets and gathered around them evenings until tattoo. Nearly 
 every soldier soon had the back of his blue trousers scorched 
 a deep brown above the heels of his shoes from standing too 
 close to the fire. There were encampments of troops all around 
 us. The greater part of the Army of the Potomac was in the 
 vicinity of Alexandria awaiting transportation to Fortress 
 Monroe, Virginia. A fleet of boats was soon gathered from 
 New York and Philadelphia to transport the army ; they were 
 of all kinds tug-boats, towing-barges, New York ferryboats, 
 excursion steamers and coast liners. Daily shipments were 
 made, but our corps, General Fitzjohn Porter's Fifth Army 
 Corps, was held in camp until near the last. 
 
 I was on camp guard a few times and remember particularly 
 a very distressing night at that camp. It had rained all day, 
 soaking us to the skin; and at night it turned into snow and 
 sleet. We had no guard tent to shelter us and were exposed to 
 the storm all night, sitting on logs around a fire that would 
 not burn and blinded us with smoke. In the morning the 
 storm ceased and soon the sun came out and warmed us. 
 Fortunately I had a change of dry clothing in my knapsack in 
 the tent, which I put on as soon as relieved and experienced no 
 ill effects from the exposure. Although we were experienced 
 soldiers, we had much to learn, now that we were a part of a 
 great army entering upon a campaign. One of the first things 
 that forced itself upon us was that while on a campaign or on 
 marches there could be no company cooks and every soldier 
 had to carry and cook his own rations. This was necessary 
 because companies were constantly divided. Some men were 
 absent on picket or on scouting duty for days at a time. It 
 was only while in a permanent camp or when the army was 
 in winter quarters, as it was called, that we could receive full 
 
 198 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 rations and have the luxury of company cooks and fresh bread 
 instead of hardtack. 
 
 The daily ration of hard bread was increased from twelve to 
 sixteen ounces per day and a few other changes were made in 
 the soldiers' rations by law and regulation in July, 1861, to hold 
 good during the war. We lived on what we called "short 
 rations" when on a campaign or a march, the daily allowance 
 being as follows : one pound of hard bread, twelve ounces of 
 salt pork or bacon, or twenty ounces of salt or fresh beef ; one 
 and a quarter ounces of ground coffee ; two and a half ounces 
 of sugar ; half an ounce of salt and sometimes a piece of soap. 
 We generally drew three days' rations at a time, which fairly 
 filled our haversacks. Sometimes we had to carry rations for 
 five days and were obliged to stow away a part of them in our 
 knapsacks. There were times when we had to get along with 
 less than the above allowance. 
 
 The haversack was a canvas bag, the knapsack was of the 
 same material both painted black. The haversack had a 
 canvas lining which could be removed and washed. We made 
 small bags to hold our coffee, sugar and salt ; the pork or beef 
 we wrapped up in a piece of paper or cloth and stowed away 
 in the bottom of the haversack, and then filled it up with the 
 hard bread. Each soldier carried a quart cup and a plate made 
 of strong block tin, also a spoon and a steel knife and fork. 
 Those who did not provide themselves with frying pans used 
 their tin plates as a substitute. Our canteens were of strong 
 tin, covered over with thick felt cloth, and held three pints. 
 
 We soon learned to make several palatable dishes out of our 
 limited marching rations. We would fry our pork until it was 
 well browned, and after dipping some of the hard bread into 
 water for a few minutes we fried that in the hot pork grease, 
 which made it swell and softened it, for it was very hard bread 
 indeed when eaten raw. At other times we broke the hard 
 bread into small pieces and soaked it in water for an hour or 
 more until it was thoroughly soft and then fried it in pork 
 grease. We also had a way of making a stew in our tin cups, 
 to which the soldiers gave a name that would not look well in 
 
 199 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 print. This stew consisted of pork or beef cut into small pieces, 
 with broken hard bread boiled in water; and if we were 
 fortunate enough to obtain a carrot, a potato or an onion, we 
 had a feast. 
 
 We had good appetites. On the third day we generally 
 fasted to a more or less extent, having used up more than the 
 just proportion of our rations on the first two days. If there 
 was any man in the company who could not eat all his rations, 
 he was much sought after by those who were hungry. We 
 boiled our coffee in the quart cups. Sometimes we could buy 
 condensed milk from the sutler when not on a march. 
 
 Porter's Fifth Army Corps received orders to embark for 
 Fortress Monroe about March twenty-second, but it was two 
 or three days later that the division of regulars broke camp and 
 marched to a wharf in Alexandria, where we embarked on an 
 old excursion steamer. The crowded boat made her way 
 slowly down the Potomac and when in the afternoon we passed 
 Mount Vernon, where the remains of General Washington 
 repose, the ship's bell tolled and we were ordered to remove 
 our caps as a mark of respect for the Father of his Country. 
 
 We found that the soldiers could do no cooking on this boat ; 
 some of them tried to make coffee by placing their cups on the 
 hot steam pipes, but they could not get it to the boiling point. 
 A few fortunate soldiers got the firemen of the boat to boil 
 their coffee for them. I had to be content with washing down 
 my frugal meals with cold water. At night we lay on the 
 floor of the saloon and about the decks, wherever we could find 
 room. 
 
 Next day we were in Chesapeake Bay, making slow progress, 
 and arrived at Old Point Comfort a little before sunset. Here 
 was an interesting sight the harbor was crowded with all 
 sorts of boats which had transported the Army of the Potomac 
 and its supplies from Alexandria to Fortress Monroe. There 
 were also several men-of-war and the Monitor the little 
 "Yankee cheesebox on a raft," as the Rebels called her 
 which had defeated the redoubtable Rebel ram, the Merrimac, 
 only a short time before. We picked our way carefully among 
 
 200 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the many vessels and were within a half mile of the dock 
 a short distance north of the present dock at the Hotel Cham- 
 berlin when suddenly there was a crash which threw us off 
 our feet and caused an ominous creaking and straining of the 
 timbers in the old boat. We had struck something, probably 
 a forgotten wreck, and were beginning to sink rapidly. There 
 was great confusion, with shrieking of whistles, blowing off 
 steam from the boilers, and a rush in search of life preservers. 
 In a few minutes tug-boats came to our assistance and began 
 taking us off. All were saved, but had our boat been going at 
 full speed when she struck, there might have been a heavy 
 loss, even though we had assistance close at hand. We spent 
 a very uncomfortable night, lying on the open dock wrapped in 
 our blankets and overcoats. It was cold, the strong wind 
 which was blowing made us shiver, and were thankful for day- 
 light and the sun's warm rays. Through someone's negligence 
 our three days' rations, exhausted on the previous day, had not 
 been renewed and on this morning many were without anything 
 to eat ; I had a hardtack or two and a little sugar ; these and a 
 drink of water constituted my breakfast. There was much 
 grumbling and dissatisfaction. One soldier in my company 
 declared that it was enough "to make a dog strike his father." 
 Soon after sunrise our officers, who had spent a more com- 
 fortable night at the Hygeia Hotel than we had on the cold 
 dock, joined us and we took up our march to camp. 
 
 We passed the fort, crossed Hampton Creek and passed 
 through the village of Hampton, which had been nearly 
 destroyed by the Rebel general, Magruder, who had ordered it 
 to be set on fire the previous year. A few miles further on 
 we came to a flat plain near the James river, where we halted 
 to camp. Many thousands of tents stretched away as far as 
 the eye could reach in the direction of Newport News on the 
 James river ; the entire Army of the Potomac was here. 
 
 It was afternoon before we received any rations and wood 
 to start fires with which to cook them, for there was no wood 
 to be had in the vicinity and we had to go a long distance for 
 water. After a great deal of trouble we secured some sticks 
 
 201 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 with which to set up our shelter tents; for the officers a few 
 wall tents and some A tents were provided. 
 
 It was at this camp that I first saw the Fifth New York 
 Volunteer Infantry, better known as the "Duryee Zouaves." 
 They arrived from Baltimore, where they had been engaged in 
 constructing fortifications on Federal Hill during the fall and 
 winter, and established their camp in close proximity to ours, 
 which afforded us opportunity of much friendly intercourse. 
 They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel G. K. Warren, 
 whom we had known in Dakota Territory as a lieutenant of 
 topographical engineers, making surveys for the Government 
 in 1855-1857. Colonel Warren had brought this fine regiment 
 to a state of discipline, efficiency and drill that was not equaled 
 by any other volunteer regiment in the Army of the Potomac. 
 When on drill or dress parade they looked both splendid and 
 formidable in their picturesque Zouave uniforms and white 
 turbans. General George Sykes, our division commander, 
 selected this regiment of all others for the third brigade of 
 the second division of the Fifth Army Corps. The First Con- 
 necticut Heavy Artillery, serving as infantry, was presently 
 added to this brigade, and later on the Tenth New York 
 Volunteer Infantry. The "Duryee Zouaves" remained in 
 Sykes's division until the expiration of their term of service. 
 
 The first and second brigades, amounting to upwards of four 
 thousand men, were made up of regular soldiers. The second, 
 to which I belonged, was composed of the following: Second 
 United States Infantry, Sixth United States Infantry, Tenth 
 United States Infantry, Eleventh United States Infantry, 
 Seventeenth United States Infantry. The eleventh and seven- 
 teenth were new regiments raised since the beginning of the 
 war; they were what was called three-battalion regiments, 
 twenty-four companies but only one battalion of each; eight 
 companies were ever present with us. The old regiments were 
 ten-company regiments, but none of them had over six com- 
 panies present. The commander of the brigade at this time 
 was Lieutenant Colonel William Chapman, an old veteran of 
 the Mexican War, who remained with us but a short time, 
 when he was retired on account of old age and disability. 
 
 202 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 At this time the beginning of McClellan's Peninsula Cam- 
 paign my regiment had but three or four officers present who 
 had served on the frontiers with us and were West Point grad- 
 uates. All of the first and second lieutenants, with the excep- 
 tion of Lieutenant Jordan, who commanded my company, and 
 a few who were appointed from the ranks, were civilian 
 appointees. Some had served in state militia and had some 
 knowledge of tactics and discipline; some turned out to be 
 good officers, but others could have been dispensed with, and 
 that with no loss to the service. 
 
 I took a trip along the shore of the river one day towards 
 Newport News and had a close view of the masts of the Con- 
 gress and the Cumberland sticking up out of the water. These 
 were the two United States frigates that were sunk by the 
 Merrimac in the memorable conflict of March eighth, 1862. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac commenced its advance on York- 
 town on April fourth, but it was nearly a week later before we 
 left our camp near Hampton. General McClellan, while in 
 command of the Army of the Potomac, made Sykes's division 
 his reserve a body of troops to be relied upon "at a critical 
 moment," as he expressed it, in his report of the Peninsular 
 Campaign; that is why, during his time as commander, we 
 seldom took the initiative in any forward movements, but 
 were more often used to cover a retreat, as at the first Bull 
 Run, when the enemy pursued us. 
 
 When we left our camp about the tenth of April we found 
 the roads in very bad condition from recent rains and badly cut 
 up by that part of the army which had marched ahead of us. 
 We passed through a place called Little Bethel and through 
 Big Bethel, where the "Duryee Zouaves" had an encounter 
 with a body of the enemy on June tenth, 1861. The breast- 
 works marking the Rebel's position were still there. A few 
 miles beyond, about half way between our former camp and 
 Yorktown, we halted and went into camp in a field at the edge 
 of some woods, in which there were a large number of huts or 
 shacks, which had been occupied by some Rebel regiment dur- 
 ing the winter. We found a number of pigs running around in 
 
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TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the woods, some of which we captured and had fresh pork for 
 supper. 
 
 During the night a rainstorm came on which lasted almost 
 without intermission for more than forty-eight hours. My 
 bunkie and I had taken the precaution to put a thick layer of 
 pine branches on the ground and had dug a ditch around our 
 tent; still, next morning the water soaked in, though we dug 
 the ditch deeper, and for two days and nights we had to sit or 
 lie on beds that were water-soaked. To add to our misery, the 
 shelter tents were far from being waterproof ; such a rain as 
 this could not be kept out. As we lay in our tents we watched 
 the globules of water oozing through the thin canvas; and to 
 keep them from dripping in our faces, we would put up our 
 fingers to touch the drop and guide it along the sloping side 
 of the tent. The rain was so fierce that half the time we could 
 not boil any coffee, as no fires could be kept up. The field in 
 which we camped was soon turned into a quagmire through 
 which we waded ankle-deep when we ventured outside the 
 tents. The men named this place "Camp Misery," and it 
 remained as such in our memories for many a day. 
 
 On the morning of the third day the sun came out, but the 
 roads were in such a horrible condition that we could not move. 
 It was not until the morning of the fourth day that we resumed 
 our march and arrived at Yorktown in the afternoon. At 
 Yorktown our camp was established a short distance from the 
 front of General McClellan's headquarters and was known as 
 "Camp Winfield Scott." There was a fringe of woods which 
 screened us from the enemy in the fortifications of Yorktown 
 about a mile and a half or more in front of us. When the 
 first of the troops of the Army of the Potomac arrived in 
 front of Yorktown they found their further advance checked 
 by fortifications mounting heavy guns, with smaller works and 
 formidable, well protected breastworks extending from the 
 York river on the north across the entire peninsula to the James 
 river on the south, where the Warwick river enters it. For a 
 few days reconnaissances, which brought on some minor 
 engagements, were made to find some weak spots in the Rebel 
 
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TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 defenses. Then General McClellan decided that a siege would 
 be necessary to capture the enemy's works. Presently the 
 Union Army of about eighty thousand men was busy making 
 roads, building works for batteries of siege guns and trenches 
 for the infantry . 
 
 The first work my regiment did was to assist in building 
 corduroy roads between the camps and Shipping Point on the 
 York river, where the army supply depots were. These roads 
 had to be substantially built for the transportation of heavy 
 siege guns and all kinds of army supplies. This work was 
 severe and frequent cold rains added to our misery ; but it had 
 to be done quickly, regardless of weather conditions. Early 
 in the morning a detail of about one-half the regiment, furn- 
 ished with axes, picks and spades, marched to a part of the 
 Shipping Point road and commenced work. We cut down 
 trees, trimmed them and dragged the logs to their places ; we 
 filled in low spots and dug ditches to drain the water from 
 swampy sections, often standing in mud and water to do it. At 
 noon we were allowed an hour's rest to make coffee and eat our 
 rations. About sundown we quit work and returned to camp, 
 very tired and glad that we could rest all of the next day, 
 while the other half of the regiment was at work. 
 
 The sick list increased while this work went on, but it was 
 soon finished and then we furnished detachments to work on 
 trenches which were a part of the siege operations of the 
 investment of Yorktown, consisting of ditches and earth breast- 
 works running in long zigzag lines, constantly approaching the 
 enemy's works. New lines were always begun in the night, 
 but strong works for mounting siege guns and batteries were 
 hurried along night and day, in spite of the enemy's frequent 
 shelling, which was answered by our gun-boats in the York 
 river; and generally they were soon silenced by them. After 
 sundown the soldiers who had been detailed for work on the 
 trenches during the night formed ranks and marched to a 
 place where picks and shovels were furnished us; then we 
 neared the place where the work was to be done and con- 
 cealed ourselves in the woods, which were abundant in the 
 
 205 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 vicinity of Yorktown, and awaited very quietly until darkness 
 had set in. We were then led out into the open fields in front 
 of the Rebel works, where we found pegs driven and lines put 
 up by the engineers, indicating the direction in which the new 
 line of trenches was to be dug. We were cautioned to make 
 as little noise as possible with our tools and no talking was 
 allowed, for the Rebel pickets might be near. The men began 
 digging a wide trench, throwing the dirt in front of them to 
 form a breastwork; and they worked very hard indeed until 
 they had dug a hole deep enough to lie down in, then they took 
 it easier. 
 
 As a non-commissioned officer I did not have to do any of 
 the digging; I superintended my section and kept them at 
 work, but the nights were still cold and raw and I often relieved 
 a tired private for a while to warm up ; besides I was as much 
 interested as any of them to make a hole in the ground deep 
 enough to protect me when the enemy fired at us. 
 
 All through the night, at almost regular intervals of about 
 fifteen minutes, a single gun in the forts at Yorktown fired a 
 shell in our direction, which passed over us and exploded or 
 buried itself in the ground somewhere behind us. On the half- 
 dozen occasions when I was on such a detail I can recall only 
 one shell bursting over us which severely wounded two men 
 of a regiment working next to ours. When the gun was fired 
 at Yorktown a mile or more away, there was a flash in the sky 
 and a sergeant on watch called out "Lie down !" when we im- 
 mediately dropped flat on the ground or into the trench. About 
 the time we heard the report of the gun, the shell was passing 
 over us. The interval of time between seeing the flash of the 
 gun and hearing the report was just about sufficient for us to 
 drop for protection. Occasionally the Union gunboats in the 
 river fired a few rounds in the direction of the Rebel gun which 
 was annoying us and had the effect of silencing it for an hour or 
 two. At the first streak of daybreak we ceased digging and 
 returned to camp, depositing our entrenching tools where we 
 had received them. We were then excused from duty and 
 rested all day; alternate nights the same detail went out to 
 
 206 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 work on the trenches again. Similar work was done by the 
 troops all along our front line. 
 
 We had a fairly good camping ground, which could be 
 drained, but there was much rain at this season and our thin 
 canvas shelter tents leaked badly, until we thought to give 
 them a coating of pork-grease or melted tallow, which im- 
 proved them for a time at the expense of their looks, for all 
 the dust and dirt flying about clung to them. In this respect 
 the volunteer regiments were better provided for than we; 
 many of them had rubber ponchos not furnished by the 
 Government, but by the states from which they hailed. The 
 ponchos could be used as a shelter tent and were waterproof ; 
 they could also be worn as a protection in rainy weather, 
 while on the march or on picket, for they were slit in the 
 center for the head to pass through. They had, however, the 
 disadvantage of being much too heavy and excessively hot 
 when used as tents in warm weather. 
 
 During our stay at Camp Winfield Scott, for about a month, 
 we had no drum or bugle calls nor were any bands allowed 
 to play, and after sunset all fires were extinguished. This pre- 
 caution was taken to prevent the enemy from ascertaining the 
 exact location of our camps, many of them being within easy 
 distance of their long-range guns, only a thin strip of woods 
 masked the camps in most places. 
 
 A large captive balloon near the army headquarters was in 
 charge of the signal corps, a new branch of the service added 
 since the beginning of the war. Some of the engineer officers 
 made ascensions in this balloon for hundreds of feet and must 
 have obtained a comprehensive view of the enemy's camps and 
 defenses. Shells were fired at this balloon at times; we saw 
 them burst in the air, but they never came close enough to 
 endanger the occupants. There was also a telegraph corps at 
 headquarters, which was an innovation in warfare. Insulated 
 wire was used, wound on large reels mounted on trucks drawn 
 by horses. The wires could be paid out quickly and were 
 secured to trees or fences, or laid on the ground, and communi- 
 cations established between headquarters and commanders of 
 the corps. 207 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Not a day passed without some long-range artillery firing 
 from both sides ; sometimes a shell passed over our camp and 
 over General McClellan's headquarters camp behind us. Picket 
 firing also went on, and there were some casualties daily. It 
 was at this camp that I saw Rebel soldiers for the first time; 
 some prisoners, taken in a skirmish, were brought to head- 
 quarters. Only a few among them wore a complete uniform 
 of gray; the others had a mixture of military and civilian 
 clothing and wore slouch hats; they were taken charge of by 
 the provost-guard. 
 
 An estuary of the York river extended close up to our camp. 
 There were many oyster beds in it, which were soon exhausted 
 by the soldiers. We washed our clothing in this water, which 
 was brackish; our drinking water we obtained from springs 
 and from wells which we dug. Encamped alongside of our 
 brigade was the regiment known as Colonel Burdan's United 
 States Sharp Shooters, an independent organization belonging 
 to no particular state. This regiment was much used as 
 skirmishers and on picket. Many of the men had their own 
 private arms, rifles with telescopes, hunting rifles and other 
 superior arms; some had powder horns and cast their own 
 bullets rather than use any fixed ammunition. A detail from 
 this regiment was sent out and remained in the rifle-pits or 
 were concealed in the branches of trees from daybreak till dark 
 for the purpose of taking shots at the Rebel gunners in the 
 fortifications of Yorktown. 
 
 About the first day of May Battery Number One on our 
 right, the largest of our batteries, was completed and began 
 firing occasional shots from its one-hundred and two-hundred 
 pounder siege-guns at the Rebel fortifications at Yorktown and 
 Gloucester Point on the opposite side of the York river. The 
 noise caused by the firing of these great guns and the explosion 
 of the shells was deafening. Siege mortars were also fired. 
 At night we could plainly follow the course of the mortar 
 shells by their burning and sputtering fuses as they curved high 
 up in the air in their flight towards the enemy's works. It 
 was expected that in a few days, as soon as all of our batteries 
 
 208 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 were ready, a general bombardment all along the line would 
 take the place of desultory firing. For several days the enemy 
 replied but feebly to our rambling fire, but on Saturday evening 
 they commenced a furious fire all along their line and kept it 
 up until long after midnight. 
 
 At daybreak on Sunday morning, May fourth, it was dis- 
 covered that the Rebels had evacuated Yorktown and were in 
 full retreat up the peninsula toward Richmond. There was 
 great cheering in all the camps as they received the news, the 
 bands, silent for a month, played patriotic airs like mad, and 
 as though they would never have another chance to play. We 
 seemed to be celebrating a great victory and forgot our 
 tremendous and now useless labor during the siege operations. 
 When General McClellan and some of his staff appeared among 
 the camps on their way to Yorktown, we threw our caps into 
 the air and cheered him to the echo, for he was our "Little 
 Mac," our "Napoleon," our "Little Corporal." The soldiers 
 were very enthusiastic and cheered him along the line of march, 
 whenever he appeared; they had the greatest confidence in 
 him and would have followed him anywhere. No future com- 
 mander of the Army of the Potomac inspired the rank and file 
 with the same affection ; they idolized him. But we were inex- 
 perienced in war and too easily enthused at this time ; we ex- 
 pected our commander to lead us to certain victory. Of the 
 future commanders I think that General Joseph Hooker was 
 next to McClellan in the affections of his soldiers, but to a 
 lesser degree. 
 
 Immediate pursuit of the enemy followed by a cavalry 
 brigade which met with some loss from percussion shells 
 planted on the road leading from Yorktown to Williamsburg, 
 before they overtook the enemy's rear-guard and had a skirm- 
 ish with them. The cavalry was followed within a few hours 
 by the infantry of the fourth and a part of the third army 
 corps, which pushed on vigorously until near night, when they 
 encountered a large force of the enemy strongly posted in a 
 work called Fort Magruder and about a dozen redoubts and 
 many rifle-pits located about a mile or more east of Williams- 
 burg. 
 
 209 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Next day a fierce battle was fought all day ; in our camps at 
 Yorktown, where we were held in readiness to march at a 
 moment's notice, we could plainly hear the heavy firing. That 
 night the enemy abandoned their position and the road to the 
 Chickahominy river was open. All the troops now began a 
 forward movement, but we were among the last to leave, two 
 or three days after the battle of Williamsburg. Transporta- 
 tion was limited, only one wagon being allowed our small 
 regiment to carry the officers' tents, their baggage, mess-kits, 
 etc. Nothing was carried for the soldiers, except the sergeant- 
 major's and first sergeant's small desks or chests in which 
 their books and papers were kept. By this time many of the 
 officers had negro servants soldiers not being allowed for that 
 service while in the field ; these they had picked up from among 
 the many hundreds of General Butler's "contrabands" at Fort- 
 ress Monroe. Many had broken-down mules, or old horses, 
 on which they packed shelter tents, blankets, provisions and a 
 few cooking utensils a very convenient arrangement to resort 
 to on a prolonged march, when the officers wanted some coffee, 
 or when the baggage wagon failed to reach camp. These 
 servants were mostly ignorant plantation niggers, but they 
 seemed to fill the bill. They walked and led their animals; 
 and in some way they managed to find or steal forage enough 
 to keep them alive. The unfortunate ones who did not have 
 animals to carry their burdens were obliged to make pack- 
 horses of themselves. These camp followers, or "dog robbers," 
 as we called them, kept up close with the command to which 
 they belonged, except when they heard any firing going on in 
 front, in which case they did not show up until all was quiet 
 again. 
 
 Our first day's march was to Williamsburg, about twelve 
 miles, where we encamped for the night near Fort Magruder 
 on a part of the battlefield of three days previous. Not much 
 of the struggle remained to be seen, the dead had been buried, 
 the dead horses burned, but the woods and trees and the earth- 
 works showed the effects of the rifle and cannon firing which 
 must have been most severe. The road from our camps led 
 
 210 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 through Yorktown ; we passed by some of the Rebel fortifica- 
 tions which heretofore had been seen only from a distance. 
 We noticed a number of small sticks with a piece of rag 
 attached to them. These indicated places where percussion 
 shells were supposed to have been buried by the Rebels. A 
 squad of Rebel prisoners under guard were forced to dig them 
 up. This was very dangerous work, as to step on the cap of 
 the shell or to strike it with a tool was liable to cause a disas- 
 trous explosion. 
 
 The weather was very warm; the road was mostly through 
 pine woods with an occasional clearing ; the woods, set on fire 
 by the retreating Rebels, were still burning in places and the 
 smoke at times was suffocating. We found the road strewn 
 with blankets, overcoats and other clothing and articles dis- 
 carded by our troops who had marched ahead of us. Owing 
 to the warm weather, the heat of the burning woods and the 
 rough state of the roads, we felt the weight of our knapsacks 
 on our backs more than ever before ; and we also began to shed 
 clothing. We reasoned that there was a long summer before 
 us, during which we would need but little clothing in this 
 climate; and if we were still alive in the fall we could draw 
 more blankets and overcoats. My bunkie and I lightened our 
 loads by discarding a blanket and an overcoat ; the other blanket 
 we cut in two, and cutting the cape off the remaining overcoat, 
 we cast it away, together with half of the blanket and some 
 other articles, all of which lightened our burden considerably. 
 
 All through the summer when on a march, we did not bother 
 with putting up a shelter tent unless it rained. We spread one 
 of the sections of the tent on the ground and lay on the half- 
 blanket, covering ourselves with the blanket and with the other 
 section of the tent if we expected a heavy dew. Sometimes 
 we were caught in a shower during the night, but that did not 
 disturb us much, as we were then too tired and sleepy to get 
 up and erect a tent. We kept the overcoat for a while to be 
 made use of when either of us was on guard or picket, but we 
 soon threw that away, also. The country people who lived 
 along the route of the army must have gathered a rich harvest 
 
 211 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 in clothing and shoes at this time. There were a few men in 
 every company who could not make up their minds to part 
 with any of their property; some even picked up articles that 
 others had thrown away and added them to their burden, 
 although they staggered under the load. 
 
 The second day's march was a short one. We went only 
 about six or seven miles beyond Williamsburg and encamped. 
 In going through the town we saw but few citizens, except 
 colored people; the stores were nearly all closed, the private 
 houses had their blinds closed and were seemingly deserted. 
 The ladies were evidently hiding themselves. The place was 
 full of wounded soldiers from both armies ; large hospital tents 
 flying the yellow flag had been erected on the outskirts of the 
 town. We passed the venerable buildings of William and Mary 
 College, which, I think, were used as a hospital at that time. 
 
 Next morning, soon after reveille, I was handed an order for 
 the admission of half-a-dozen sick soldiers from my brigade 
 (whom the surgeon considered unable to stand a campaign) 
 to a hospital at Williamsburg. I was directed to take charge 
 of them, to march them there and rejoin my company as 
 speedily as possible and as best I could. I secured permission 
 to leave my knapsack in the regimental baggage wagon, keep- 
 ing only a blanket which I made into a roll and carried over 
 my shoulder. I started early, but it took my sick squad about 
 four hours to travel the distance of six miles back to Williams- 
 burg. I found the hospital tent, left my charges and was given 
 a receipt for them. 
 
 The day was still young. I was puzzled whether to stay 
 in the town and await the chance to return under the pro- 
 tection of some detachment of soldiers, or to go on alone. I 
 decided on the latter course, for I felt fresh and vigorous and 
 was a good marcher ; I reasoned that I would be able to over- 
 take my command before night, if they had not made too long 
 a march that day ; and, at the worst, I might find a wagon-train 
 or some soldiers encamped along the road, among whom I 
 might spend the night. I stayed in town only long enough to 
 get something to eat and some coffee at the hospital, and then 
 
 212 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 started off at a brisk pace which I kept up with only a few 
 short rests until evening, when I began to look anxiously for 
 signs of a large camp ahead. None was to be seen, and no 
 one seemed to be traveling towards me, from whom I could 
 learn how far it was to the next camp. The road was a very 
 lonely one ; much of it was through woods, and there were but 
 few houses and cabins. The trail left by the army could be 
 easily followed in the daytime, but after dark it would be 
 more difficult when arriving at a cross or branch road to decide 
 which way to go. 
 
 During the afternoon I was never any very great length of 
 time out of sight of a wagon-train or some cavalry detachment, 
 and I also met some stragglers, who had been foraging. They 
 asked me to stay with them but I declined. Towards evening 
 I saw no one and felt very lonely and uneasy. Shortly after 
 sundown a small cavalry squad in charge of an officer over- 
 took me. I was halted and the officer demanded to know what 
 I was doing alone on the road. I showed him my receipt and 
 explained that I was not a straggler. He advised me to hide 
 in the woods in a hurry and to stay there until some detach- 
 ment came along which I could join, or I would be shot by 
 guerrillas. I had not heard guerrillas mentioned before in camp, 
 but from the earnest way in which this officer spoke, I judged 
 they were to be dreaded. 
 
 I quickly retraced my steps to the nearest woods, about half 
 a mile behind me, and took a careful look up and down the 
 road before entering, but saw nothing to alarm me. Within 
 hearing distance of the road, I spread my blanket under a tree, 
 ate a portion of my rations and took a drink of water from my 
 canteen. It was growing dark and I was afraid to light my 
 pipe and have a smoke, so I lay down on my blanket to rest, 
 my loaded rifle beside me. I felt very tired, as I must have 
 marched more than twenty-five miles since early morning, 
 according to my calculation, and although I tried to keep 
 awake and listen for any noise there might be on the road, 
 sleep overcame me and I did not wake up until it was broad 
 daylight. 
 
 213 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 After a careful survey I resumed my march and soon 
 passed a house a few hundred yards off the road, in which 
 no one seemed to be stirring yet. A few miles further on, I 
 saw a cavalry picket post and, noting the blue uniform and 
 yellow facings, I knew that I was safe. Here I learned that 
 the camp was but little more than a mile ahead and soon heard 
 the joyful notes of a bugle call. My regiment was waiting to 
 take its place in line for the day's march and I reported to the 
 commanding officer, who complimented me on my activity in 
 making two days' marches in one, and ordered me as a reward 
 to be excused from guard and picket duties for a month. 
 
 A short time later I knew better than to take the foolish 
 chance I had in making that march alone. In less than a week 
 General Sykes's servant was shot dead by guerrillas and some 
 teamsters were killed by them not far from camp. During the 
 war many stragglers were killed by guerrillas, being reported 
 missing or perhaps as deserters. In my own company, two men 
 who were supposed to have fallen asleep by the roadside dur- 
 ing a rest on a night march were never heard from. 
 
 On this day it was the turn of the Fifth Army Corps to be in 
 the rear on the line of march, and my brigade was the last in 
 the corps, which made it quite late in the morning before we 
 started on the road. It was the custom, when it could be done 
 and when a large part of the army was marching on the same 
 road, for the corps in advance to-day to be in the rear to- 
 morrow. This rule applied also to divisions, brigades, regi- 
 ments and companies of regiments, the leading company to-day 
 being the rear company to-morrow. 
 
 We marched by fours, and if there were fifty thousand men 
 or more in line they extended for many miles, and it some- 
 times happened that the troops in the advance went into camp 
 before those in the rear started on their march. Reveille, how- 
 ever, was sounded at the same time in all the camps, irrespect- 
 ive of their place in line. The supply trains with their guards 
 often followed the troops on the same road and were very 
 late getting into camp. Rations were then issued at night to 
 the waiting, hungry soldiers. When the roads were very bad 
 
 214 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and conditions made it feasible, an army corps remained at 
 rest in camp for a day avoiding the overcrowding of the road. 
 Marching with a large body of troops is very tedious and 
 very annoying, when you are far to the rear of the line and the 
 troops in front empty the wells and springs along the road and 
 roil the rivulets and ponds to the extent of making water unfit 
 to drink. When a halt occurred we did not know whether it 
 was for a rest or only for a moment ; a halt of a few minutes 
 at the head of the line miles away multiplied itself many times 
 before it reached the rear. If a piece of road had to be re- 
 paired, a stream forded or a bridge strengthened or repaired 
 for the safe passage of artillery and cavalry, we were delayed 
 for hours. Those in the rear knew nothing of the cause and 
 wondered why we did not go on, expecting every moment to 
 hear the bugle sound the call "forward." When we halted 
 we stood still for a few minutes waiting to go on again, and if 
 there was no indication of it among the regiments immediately 
 in front of us, we broke ranks without orders and unslung our 
 knapsacks and sat on them or lay on the ground by the roadside 
 if it was dry, the officers doing the same for all company 
 officers had to march on foot. If the halt continued for a while 
 the men soon began to straggle off in search of water and 
 wood; if it was evening, soon many small fires were burning 
 along the road and many were making coffee in their tin cups ; 
 and perhaps before the coffee boiled the bugle would sound 
 the command to "fall in." We could not afford to throw away 
 the coffee, partly made, but carried the cups in our hands to 
 the next halting place and built another fire. We had become 
 wise and put swinging handles on our cups, if we could find 
 any wire for that purpose, to carry them more easily. A short 
 delay at the head of the column became a long one in the 
 rear, if the men broke ranks, for it required a little time to 
 sling knapsacks and to take your place in line very much 
 like a tie-up on a long line of street-cars, when it seems a long 
 time after the first one has started again before the last one 
 moves. On night marches the afore-mentioned difficulties 
 were, greater, for tired out men fell asleep by the roadside and 
 
 215 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 did not always hear the command "forward." If we missed 
 them when forming ranks, we delayed a little and searched for 
 them; if we did not, they had a chance of being picked up 
 the rear guard, or ran the risk of being captured by guerrillas. 
 
 We passed through New Kent Court House and reached 
 Cumberland on the Pamunkey river long after dark. Sykes' 
 division encamped on the heights overlooking the valley of the 
 river, and there we saw a sight the grandeur of which can 
 never be effaced from the memory of those who witnessed it. 
 Below us on a great plain the entire Army of the Potomac 
 was encamped, reunited for the first time since leaving York- 
 town. Thousands upon thousands of camp fires were seen as 
 far as the eye could reach in every direction. The sight was 
 magnificent. We rested at Cumberland for a day and the 
 army was reviewed by Secretary of State William H. Seward. 
 
 Our next march was to the White House, at the head of 
 navigation on the Pamunkey. Here the river was crossed by 
 a bridge of the Richmond and York River Railroad. The 
 tortuous river was crowded with vessels, all loaded with sup- 
 plies for the army, for the White House landing was to be 
 our base of supplies while operating against Richmond, and 
 the railroad partly destroyed by the Rebels was to be rebuilt 
 to convey the supplies to the Chickahominy river. The White 
 House was a large plantation, formerly the property of the 
 wife of George Washington and at that time owned by the 
 Lee family. General McClellan ordered safeguards to protect 
 this estate from vandalism, but about a month later the fine 
 mansion was destroyed by fire along with our supply depot, 
 when the Union Army retreated to the James river. Our 
 next camp was at Tunstall's Station, and two more short 
 marches brought us to Gaines's Mill, north of the Chicka- 
 hominy and about seven miles from Richmond. 
 
 All the way up the peninsula the country was deserted; 
 about the plantations and farms no young men were to be 
 seen, they had all joined the Rebel Army. Few negroes were 
 visible ; all but trusty house servants had been sent within the 
 Rebel lines to prevent them from running away from their 
 
 216 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 masters. Scarcely a horse or any other domestic animal was to 
 be seen about the farms; they were either secreted or had 
 been sent away. 
 
 During the first eighteen months of the war, orders against 
 foraging or destroying any private property in the enemy's 
 country were strictly enforced; in our division we were not 
 even allowed to take fence rails for firewood, safeguards being 
 placed at many of the more important plantations for their 
 protection. After the invasion of Maryland by the Rebels in 
 September, 1862, and the discovery that many of the houses 
 along the route of the army harbored guerrillas who murdered 
 our stragglers, the orders were no longer strictly enforced and 
 but few safeguards were furnished. I believe it was twelve 
 days or more from the evacuation of Yorktown before our 
 advance troops reached the Chickahominy river, a distance of 
 something less than fifty miles. The Northern papers criticized 
 General McClellan very severely for his slow pursuit of the 
 enemy; but there were few roads that this large army with 
 its immense baggage and supply trains could travel; owing 
 to constant and unprecedented spring rains they were in a 
 horrible condition and had to be repaired in many places before 
 the artillery and wagon trains could pass, and besides the 
 bridges had to be rebuilt. The battle fought at Williamsburg 
 caused a loss of two days also in our advance on Richmond. 
 
 The great stretches of pine woods on the peninsula made 
 us familiar with a camp-pest we had not encountered before 
 the woodtick, a small bug which buried its head in the most 
 tender parts of the skin of one's body, causing intense itching, 
 swellings and sores. In the morning, while on the march, 
 when the sun was shining, and we were in good spirits, some 
 regiment would start up a song. I particularly remember 
 that my regiment marched directly behind the "Duryee 
 Zouaves" one morning when one of their fine singers started 
 "The Mocking Bird," and presently the entire regiment, twice 
 as large as ours, took up the chorus. It was beautiful, and it 
 has ever since remained one of my favorite sings. 
 
 Gaines's Mill, where our camp was located, was a part of 
 
 217 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a large plantation owned by Dr. Gaines, a bitter Rebel who 
 resided on the property in a large house that was protected by 
 a safeguard. My brigade was encamped along the edge of 
 the mill-pond, a body of stagnant water which received all the 
 drainage of the camp and which was our only supply for cook- 
 ing and drinking. No precautions of any kind were taken to 
 prevent contamination of the pond; the soldiers bathed and 
 washed their clothing in it. We dug some deep holes along 
 the shore and allowed the water to seep into them, hoping 
 in that way to filter it, but without perceptible results, for our 
 sick list increased and we had some fatal cases of typhoid 
 fever. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac was presently separated into two 
 parts ; only the Fifth Army Corps and one additional division 
 remained on the north side, or left bank, of the Chickahominy, 
 all the other troops being on the right bank of the river and 
 nearer Richmond. They formed the left wing of the army 
 between the Chickahominy and the James rivers; while we 
 formed the right wing, virtually cut off and liable to be out- 
 flanked by the enemy, for the Chickahominy was bordered 
 by large forest trees and low, marshy bottoms which a single 
 heavy rainstorm would overflow; all bridges had been de- 
 stroyed and had to be rebuilt and a number of new ones con- 
 structed. 
 
 General McDowell with the First Army Corps and other 
 troops, to the number of about forty thousand men in all, 
 formed an independent command at Fredericksburg at this 
 time, only a few days' march away from General Porter's 
 Fifth Army Corps. General McClellan had most earnestly 
 requested the authorities at Washington to allow General Mc- 
 Dowell to form a junction with him to strengthen the right 
 wing of the Army of the Potomac, but General McDowell did 
 not receive an order to join until it was too late, and we had 
 to pay a fearful price for the delinquency. 
 
 At this time there were no less than six independent com- 
 mands in various parts of Virginia, and even the soldiers in 
 the ranks could understand that the war in that state was being 
 
 218 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 conducted from Washington; no important operations could 
 be undertaken without the approval of the President, Secre- 
 tary of War Stanton, or the Commander-in-Chief, Halleck. 
 It was not until General Grant's time in 1864 that the com- 
 mander of this army was given a free hand. 
 
 After we had been a few days at this camp it was dis- 
 covered that two brigades of the enemy, estimated at twelve 
 thousand strong, were at Hanover Court House, between 
 McDowell's army and our own and were threatening our 
 communications with the White House, our base of supplies. 
 A division of the Fifth Corps, together with Warren's brigade 
 and some cavalry and artillery, marched at daylight next 
 morning and encountered the enemy. Next day there was a 
 spirited engagement in which the Rebels lost about a thousand, 
 killed, wounded and prisoners, and were obliged to retreat to 
 Richmond, while the Union loss was less than four hundred. 
 The two regular brigades marched to the field a day later as 
 a support, but we were not called into action. The "Duryee 
 Zouaves" took part in the engagement, sustaining only a trifling 
 loss. The following day the Virginia Central Railroad with 
 its bridges was destroyed by our troops as far as Ashland 
 and we returned to our camp at Gaines's Mill. 
 
 We assisted in building approaches across the Chickahominy 
 swamps to the new bridges erected by the engineers and some- 
 times we worked in mud and water all day. Occasionally the 
 enemy fired some shells at us without much damage and were 
 quickly silenced by some of our batteries posted in a com- 
 manding position to protect the bridge. 
 
 The Rebels had one very long range gun which they some- 
 times fired from the other side of the Chickahominy in the 
 direction of our camp. We could not hear the report of the 
 gun but heard the shell pass over us and explode far beyond. 
 This gun was supposed to be of English manufacture the best 
 type of rifled cannon made at that time. 
 
 On one of these working parties we found in a field a 
 tobacco barn in which there was a goodly quantity of dried 
 leaf-tobacco, from which we abstracted as much as the small 
 
 219 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 party in my charge were able to conceal and carry away with- 
 out being discovered. Next day in camp we made cigars of 
 the stogie shape and enjoyed smoking them. 
 
 On the thirty-first of May occurred the very severe battle of 
 Fair Oaks on the right bank of the Chickahominy, in which 
 the Fifth Army Corps took no part, but was kept in readiness 
 to cross the river, if that could have been accomplished. The 
 recent heavy rainstorms had caused such a flood that the 
 bridges had been carried away and the unfinished approaches 
 destroyed. The enemy knew this and no doubt counted on the 
 fact that our army was separated by an impassable river and 
 could not be united at that time. We heard the constant roar 
 of artillery and infantry firing from noon until dark. It 
 recommenced at daylight next morning and lasted for several 
 hours. We learned later that our troops were driven back 
 on the first day, but regained their position the following morn- 
 ing and drove the enemy two miles further in flight towards 
 Richmond, only five miles away. It was a victory for the 
 Union Army, but could not be followed up; the condition of 
 the roads was so bad that artillery could not follow. The 
 troops went back to their former lines and greatly strengthened 
 them. The combined losses of both armies in this battle were 
 upwards of twelve thousand, killed and wounded. 
 
 When the month had expired, during which I had been 
 excused from guard and picket, I had to resume those duties 
 again. The guard duty was easy enough as we only main- 
 tained a camp guard ; but going on picket was a very hard task 
 which happened once a week or oftener, at this camp. Our 
 entire company would march out of camp near evening, leaving 
 our tents standing but taking our knapsacks with us. We 
 would then proceed for a few miles in whatever direction we 
 had been ordered to go, until we arrived at the picket reserve 
 whom we were to relieve. There we were divided into relieves 
 for day and night duties and received our orders and special 
 instructions from the officer in command. When darkness came 
 on we marched out to the picket line in small detachments, 
 were challenged by the sentinels and relieved them consecu- 
 
 220 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 tively, being informed by the soldier relieved of any suspicious 
 circumstances or points to be especially watched. Then began 
 our lonely vigil through the night until relieved at daybreak, 
 for when near the enemy we had to remain on post all night, 
 or from dawn till dark, as relief detachments were frequently 
 fired on, even though the opposing picket lines did not fire at 
 each other by a sort of mutual understanding during the day- 
 time. 
 
 Picket posts were generally within sight or hailing distance 
 of each other ; some had the protection of trees or bushes or 
 rising ground, while others were out in the open fields without 
 any protection or concealment. Although I was a corporal, I 
 had to take my place on the picket line with my squad when 
 conditions were such that the pickets could not be relieved at 
 regular hours in front of the enemy. While the daylight tours 
 were much longer at this season of the year, I found the 
 night tours a greater strain on me and more exhausting. There 
 was a continuous strain on the eye and ear, watching for the 
 movement of dark objects or listening for noises ; a bird or a 
 small animal moving in the bushes might sound like the stealthy 
 approach of a person ; while to fire a shot or to give a false 
 alarm without a good cause meant punishment. We kept our 
 rifles at half-cock, but when hearing a suspicious noise I would 
 stand still and bring mine to a full-cock, waiting until all was 
 quiet again. It was very hard sometimes to fight off sleep. 
 When I felt a drowsy feeling stealing over me, I resorted to 
 all kinds of expedients to keep awake, even to rubbing tobacco 
 into my eyes to make them smart. 
 
 I put in one particularly distressing day at one of the new 
 bridges which we were completing across the Chickahominy. 
 At daybreak I was sent from the main picket guard at the 
 Rebel side of the bridge to post a line of sentinels about two 
 hundred yards ahead of the bridge, to watch and give the 
 signal should the enemy approach to interfere with the working 
 party on the bridge. We had to wade through an overflow of 
 the river for a long distance up to our knees and some of the 
 sentinels had to stand in the water all day behind trees as 
 
 221 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 they could not be relieved before dark. I took for my post the 
 farther end of the line behind a tree, where I did not have to 
 stand in the water. When it was fully daylight I noticed a 
 large tree out in an open field about a hundred yards in front 
 of me and soon made out that there were two Rebel pickets 
 watching me from behind that tree. Sometimes a gun was 
 poked out and pointed in my direction on one side or the other 
 of the tree, which caused me to do the same; but as they did 
 not fire, I was only too glad to keep quiet myself. During the 
 forenoon a Rebel battery fired over our heads at the men 
 working on the bridge. This drew a concentrated fire from 
 some of our batteries which soon forced the enemy to desist. 
 A heavy rain came on before noon and lasted all day, soaking 
 us to the skin. I watched my two neighbors, but nothing of 
 an exciting nature happened on this miserable, wet day. When 
 I felt hungry T ate some boiled bacon and munched a few 
 crackers. The day seemed interminably long. Just as soon 
 as it was dark enough I left my post for the main picket guard 
 at the bridge, picking up the sentinels as I went along, for at 
 this time the guard retired to the north side of the bridge 
 over night. 
 
 After the battle of Fair Oaks, offensive operations seemed 
 to be suspended for a time on both sides. Incessant rains for a 
 week or more had put the country into such condition that an 
 advance movement could not be attempted ; only artillery duels, 
 small skirmishes and some picket firing took place. But about 
 the middle of June there was some excitement in our camps 
 caused by a report that a large force of Rebels were in the 
 rear of the right wing, threatening the destruction of our base 
 of supplies at the White House. This proved to be the much 
 vaunted Confederate General Stuart's raid. General Stuart, 
 with a cavalry force of about twelve hundred and a section 
 of artillery, made a swift and complete circuit of the Army 
 of the Potomac. His progress was so rapid that he met with 
 but little opposition ; there was no considerable cavalry force 
 at hand and the infantry sent out in a hurry could not pursue 
 him. He was unable to inflict any damage, except to tear up 
 
 222 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a small section of the railroad track near the White House, 
 cut some telegraph wires, kill a few cavalry-men and some 
 teamsters and burn a dozen army wagons. The most important 
 result of this raid for the enemy was that it disclosed to them 
 the weakness, location and difficult connection of the right wing 
 of our army, with the main body on the south side of the 
 Chickahominy, a condition of which they took advantage 
 presently, to our discomfiture. Things went on quietly for a 
 little while after Stuart's raid, until on the twenty-sixth of 
 June, 1862, the enemy attacked our right wing with a superior 
 force at Mechanicsville, which was the first of the "seven 
 days of battle" and retreat of McClellan's army in front of 
 Richmond. 
 
 223 
 
PART X. 
 
 THE SEVEN DAYS' RETREAT. 
 1862. 
 
 ON the morning of the twenty-sixth of June, 1862, 
 everything was quiet in our camps ; only the fire of 
 an occasional gun was heard in the front of the main 
 part of our army, on the other side of the Chicahominy. 
 We were enduring a very hot period of weather and sought 
 relief from the fierce rays of the sun under our little shelter 
 tents which we opened on all sides for more air. Men who were 
 not on duty smoked, played cards, chatted or discussed the 
 conduct of the war and explained how it should be managed; 
 they damned the cabinet and the politicians in Washington, 
 who really managed the war and interfered often disas- 
 trously with the commanding generals in the field. They 
 expressed indignation against the Copperhead (Rebel sym- 
 pathizing) papers in the North and wondered why they 
 were not suppressed. They made rough estimates of the enor- 
 mous cost of the war which drew forth a remark from one of 
 the party, that he thought many millions could be saved if 
 the Government advertised for bids to put down the rebel- 
 lion and awarded the job to some Napoleonic contractor. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon we were suddenly 
 startled by heavy firing in the direction of our right wing at 
 Beaver Dam Creek near Mechanicsville, about three miles 
 from our camp, where the third division of the Fifth Army 
 Corps under General McCall was posted in a strong position. 
 Presently the firing increased to heavy volleys, mingled* with 
 the thunder of artillery, and we realized that the long ex- 
 pected attack on our right wing had begun. The drummers 
 beat the long roll and in a moment all was activity in camp. 
 Tents were struck, knapsacks were packed, rations were is- 
 
 225 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 sued and cartridge boxes replenished; the wagons were 
 packed and all ready for a movement ; we only awaited or- 
 ders to march to the support of the third division. Then 
 came a lull in the firing for an hour or more, only to be re- 
 newed about sundown with increased fury when Sykes's di- 
 vision was ordered forward. We took the road towards 
 Mechanicsville and marched in quick time to within half a 
 mile or so of the battle line, when we were halted for a while 
 and then turned off the road into a plowed field on the right, 
 where we were to bivouac for the night. It was getting dark 
 but considerable firing was still going on and it was after 
 nine o'clock before it ceased entirely. We stacked arms and 
 sat on our knapsacks on the ground waiting. 
 
 From orderlies and wounded men passing to the rear, we 
 learned that the enemy had crossed and were still crossing 
 the Chickahominy by the upper bridges ; and had made fierce 
 attacks on the strong position of the third division on Beaver 
 Dam Creek where they had been repulsed with great loss, 
 while our loss was small; but that by morning the enemy 
 would be in such overwhelming numbers that the position 
 would be untenable. This information made it seem sure 
 to us that there would be another battle on the morrow and 
 that we would take part in it ; and for the first time we ex- 
 perienced the peculiar feeling and mental condition of the 
 soldier on the eve of battle, a condition that has been de- 
 scribed in prose and poetry, as the "night before the battle." 
 Heretofore our brigade had only been under artillery and 
 picket firing, in which there had been but few casualties, but 
 now we were to face more serious encounters with the enemy. 
 
 We all felt grave. Each man seemed to reflect. I heard 
 none boast as to what they would do to-morrow. Intimate 
 friends made known their wishes to each other, in case either 
 of them should not survive. We spread our blankets on the 
 plowed field. It was a beautiful moonlight night. I lay 
 awake a long time looking at the starry heavens, thinking of 
 my mother, who was my only relative. I believe that to a 
 young soldier the anticipation and certainty of a battle for 
 
 226 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 many hours before it occurs is one of the most trying parts 
 of it. I suppose that I felt just like my comrades. I prayed and 
 hoped that I might be spared, or, if I was to fall, that I might 
 be killed rather than mutilated. At last I fell asleep and 
 slept soundly until awakened at daylight next morning. 
 
 The events of the next few days made a stronger impres- 
 sion on my youthful memory than any other occurrence 
 throughout the war, and it seems to me that at this writing, 
 after a period of more than fifty years, I remember and can 
 describe my feelings and actions, step by step, as though it 
 had all happened but a week ago. 
 
 After a hasty breakfast without coffee, we stood to arms 
 and waited. Some troops were marching on the road to the 
 rear and we learned that General McCall's division was be- 
 ing quietly withdrawn from their defenses. Only some 
 rambling shots could be heard. After a while we marched 
 out into the road and in the direction of Cold Harbor, which 
 was simply a traven at the intersection of two roads. On our 
 way we passed our old camp and the mill and noticed that 
 all our wagons had departed during the night and that 
 quantities of provisions which they could not carry had been 
 set on fire and were still burning. 
 
 We were halted several times and remained in line of 
 battle for an hour or more before we went on again ; some- 
 times we countermarched. The forenoon was well spent 
 when we passed Cold Harbor and took the road leading to 
 Turkey Hill and Woodbury's Bridge. When we reached 
 the vicinity of the Adams house, where General Porter es- 
 tablished his headquarters, we halted again and were or- 
 dered to pile our knapsacks in a field at the edge of the road 
 where a small guard was left in charge of them, while we 
 went on about a quarter of a mile further and took up a posi- 
 tion on some high ground in a field on the road leading to 
 New Cold Harbor where we found Warren's brigade and 
 other troops who had preceded us. 
 
 It was past noon when we arrived here and sat or lay 
 down on the grass by the roadside under a broiling hot 
 
 227 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 sun and ate our dinner of boiled bacon and hardtack. I re- 
 member distinctly that it was bacon, for when I took my 
 piece out of my haversack and unwrapped it, I found it had 
 melted nearly half away from the great heat since early morn- 
 ing. We lay around and smoked our pipes trying to find a 
 little shade from some low bushes that grew along the road, 
 while we listened to an occasional cannon shot which 
 seemed to be a long way off. 
 
 The position of my regiment was near the highest part of 
 the road which at this point was about two feet below the 
 general surface of the ground, thus forming a low breast- 
 work. In our front were open fields bordered by woods 
 three hundred yards or more away. Some distance to our 
 left the fields were broken by a small stream in a ravine 
 fringed with bushes and some trees. This stream crossed 
 the road we were on about three hundred yards to our left 
 and at a lower level. Beyond the stream the fields rose 
 again to the edge of the woods. In our rear there was a 
 gentle upward slope which reached a height of about a dozen 
 feet above the level of the road and was within sight of the 
 Watt house surrounded by fields. On this commanding but 
 exposed position a regular battery soon appeared, unlimbered 
 their guns and prepared for action, the cannoneers filling 
 their sponge buckets with water, while others tore down the 
 rail fence in front of the guns on the high side of the road. 
 
 From our position I had a good view of the open fields 
 and the locality made such an impression on my memory, that 
 I had no difficulty in recognizing it many years afterward 
 when I revisited the scene. The road to the right and left 
 of us was filled with troops of Sykes's division. I noticed 
 that Warren's brigade, which I recognized by the Zouave 
 uniforms of the Fifth New York, was posted in some de- 
 pressed ground in front of the road in advance and at some 
 distance to our left. 
 
 I think it was some time after two o'clock in the afternoon 
 that picket firing became more frequent and kept on getting 
 closer. We lined up against the rail fence watching the 
 
 228 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 fields in our front anxiously. Presently I noticed a com- 
 pany of the "Duryee Zouaves" leave their regiment, deploy 
 as skirmishers, and enter the woods opposite them; and in 
 a little while we heard the crack of their rifles. Then we 
 realized that the enemy was driving in our pickets and pre- 
 paring to attack us. 
 
 Two pieces of woods formed almost a right angle about 
 five hundred yards from our position and in the corner there 
 was a wide gap through which I could see the country for 
 a mile or more beyond. I noticed a great cloud of dust 
 which seemed to be approaching, and when it neared the 
 gap I could make out that there were horses, but was not 
 sure whether it was cavalry or artillery from the dust they 
 raised. My doubts about this were dispelled in a few min- 
 utes when I saw a sudden puff of smoke and heard the 
 familiar sound of a shell passing over our heads. We heard the 
 command to lie down and obeyed it promptly, throwing 
 ourselves face down in the thick dust of the road. The shots 
 now came in such quick succession that I judged a full bat- 
 tery of six guns was firing at our battery, stationed directly 
 in the rear of my regiment only a few yards away, which 
 lost no time in replying and whose guns roared with deafen- 
 ing effect close over our heads as we lay in the road. Amid 
 all this noise and the bursting of the enemy's shells among 
 and behind the battery, we could sometimes hear the groans 
 of a wounded battery horse. 
 
 As I explained before, we had some protection from this 
 fire, inasmuch as the road was sunk about two feet, and only 
 one of the many shells fired burst directly over our heads, 
 killing two and wounding three men of Company G., next to 
 my company on the left. While this firing was going on, I 
 think each man tried to make himself as thin as possible I 
 know that I did. Each time I heard the scream of a shell 
 coming our way, I hugged the ground so close that I broke 
 the crystal and hands of an open-faced watch which I car- 
 ried in my pocket, and I felt a great sense of relief when I 
 heard the explosion of the shell behind me. I ardently 
 
 229 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 wished to be in some other place or that the firing would 
 cease. 
 
 I do not know just how long this artillery duel lasted to 
 me it seemed an age but it was probably less than an hour 
 before there was a lull in the firing. We arose, and I looked 
 at the two men who had been killed close by and saw that 
 one had had his head blown clean off, leaving only a stump 
 of the neck; while the other had a large hole in the side of 
 his head. The sight was horrible ; they lay in a great pool 
 of blood. The three wounded men had been removed. I 
 took a look at the battery in our rear and judged from what 
 I could see that they had not suffered as much as I had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 The battle had now begun in earnest at several points 
 along our line; we heard the heavy volleys of the infantry 
 and the thunder of many guns. I stood at the fence and, 
 amid much smoke, saw that Warren's brigade had become 
 engaged with the enemy who were at the edge of the woods. 
 Soon I noticed a large body of Rebels come out of the 
 woods, apparently in our direction, when the command to 
 lie down was again given and this time a warning from the 
 officer commanding the battery that he was about to fire can- 
 ister at the approaching enemy. Canister shot is a round tin can 
 made to fit the bore of the gun. It is filled with bullets. 
 When fired, the tin is blown to pieces and the bullets have 
 a tendency to scatter. A few dozen rounds of canister from 
 our battery drove the enemy back into the woods leaving 
 their dead and wounded out in the field. While the canister 
 firing went on a little incident occurred which under other 
 conditions might have been humorous. A man in my com- 
 pany was hit by something in a very soft part of his body, 
 covered by the seat of his pants, and let out a yell that he 
 was wounded. When the firing ceased and an examination 
 was made, only a large red spot could be found on his skin; 
 he had evidently been hit by a piece of tin or solder from a 
 canister which no doubt stung him hard ! 
 
 My regiment now received orders to form ranks and we 
 
 230 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 immediately went forward down the road at a run, passing 
 other regiments held in reserve who encouraged us with 
 such remarks as "Go in, Second Infantry, and give them 
 hell ! Pitch into them, boys !" When we came to the little 
 stream previously mentioned, we filed to the right and 
 passed along for some distance, halted, closed up the ranks 
 and fixed bayonets when I discovered that I had lost mine; 
 it had slipped out of its scabbard while I was climbing a 
 fence. We then crossed the ravine and brush and went up the 
 incline in company front and found ourselves on the right of 
 the Fifth New York Regiment of Warren's brigade, prolonging 
 his line of battle. I distinctly remember seeing General Warren 
 mounted on a gray horse at the right front of his line, a very 
 conspicuous figure, watching the Second Infantry taking their 
 place in line. 
 
 At this stage of the war neither the officers nor the 
 soldiers had learned to take advantage of any inequalities 
 of the ground, or in the absence of such, to dig a hole and 
 throw up a small heap of dirt for protection, behind which 
 the soldier lay and fired if the enemy was at some distance. 
 They learned to do this very soon, however. In passing I 
 noticed that most of the Fifth New York on our left had 
 set up their knapsacks in front of them and were firing in a 
 horizontal position. 
 
 Our colors were planted on the very brow of the rise and 
 we dressed (aligned) to them as we did when on parade. 
 This brought us in full view of and made us a conspicuous 
 mark for the enemy who were plainly seen at the edge of a 
 wood directly in front about two hundred yards away. As 
 soon as they observed us they began firing, with but little 
 effect at first, until some minutes after when they estimated 
 the distance more closely. We lost no time in replying. 
 The command was given to commence firing, to fire at will, 
 and to sight for two hundred yards. 
 
 As soon as I began to fire at the enemy, I was inspired by 
 very different feelings from what I had experienced while 
 lying inactively in the road, being shelled by the enemy and 
 
 231 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 unable to reply; this, I think, has a dispiriting effect on a 
 young soldier. I now felt a strong desire to inflict all the 
 damage I could on the enemy. I was cool and collected and 
 took deliberate aim with every shot, as long as I could dis- 
 tinguish individuals, and when the smoke became thick I 
 aimed at the flash of their guns and admonished my nearest 
 comrades in the ranks do the same. 
 
 The bullets began to whistle spitefully about our ears 
 now; some struck the ground in front of us, raising the 
 dust, but the greater part of them went above our heads. 
 A hasty glance to the right and left along the line showed 
 me, however, that men were falling here and there, and 
 presently my comrade on my right in the front rank pitched 
 forward on his face to the ground, exclaiming with a groan, 
 "I've got it!" He seemed in intense pain and clutched the 
 earth with his fingers. I turned him on his back and found 
 that he had been hit in the right thigh, and I am sure that in 
 the din of battle I heard the bullet strike him and break the 
 thigh bone. There is a peculiar sound or thud when a bullet 
 enters a human body, different from that which it makes 
 when striking other objects a sound, once heard, not easily 
 forgotten. I ordered two men to take the wounded man a 
 few yards to the rear, down the incline, out of the line of 
 fire, where they left him in the shade of some bushes and 
 saw to it that he had his canteen handy, and then they took 
 their places again in the firing line. When the wounded man 
 was removed I picked up his rifle, took off the bayonet and 
 affixed it to mine, thinking I might need it if we came to 
 close quarters. 
 
 I will here digress in my story and relate what happened 
 to this soldier whom we left grievously wounded on the 
 battle field when we had to retreat, for the purpose of show- 
 ing how the enemy often cruelly neglected our wounded. 
 The man's name was Charles Rehm. He was company clerk 
 at this time, and I had known him well ever since he joined 
 my company at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in 1858. I met 
 him about eighteen months after this battle, while on a 
 
 232 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 short furlough in Washington. He related to me how, soon 
 after being wounded, he seemed to have lost consciousness 
 and remembered little until near the close of the following 
 day more than twenty-six hours after he was hit when a 
 Rebel surgeon attended him and he was sent to a hospital in 
 Richmond that night along with many other wounded Union 
 prisoners. There they wanted to amputate his leg, but he 
 told them he would rather die than loose his leg. He was 
 a young man about twenty-five, strong and vigorous. He 
 recovered, but his right leg was much shorter than the left ; 
 he had to use a cane and limped badly. At the time he was 
 employed as a clerk in the War Department. 
 
 To continue my story of the battle, after firing many 
 rounds in our exposed position we were ordered to fall back 
 a few paces and to fire kneeling or lying down. The rising 
 ground in front of us now gave us a little protection. I fired 
 a few rounds in a prostrate position, in which it was difficult 
 to reload, until I saw a man a few files from me receive a 
 horrible wound which opened his face from his forehead to 
 his chin ; then I arose and fired kneeling until I heard a sud- 
 den command to close ranks and fire by company. This 
 command, I learned afterward, was given because the enemy 
 seemed to form for a charge upon us. We arose and in close 
 double ranks began to fire volleys all together, to the com- 
 mands of "load!" "ready!" "aim!" and "fire!" which proved 
 to be very effective, for the Rebels retired into the woods 
 and for a little while their firing ceased; then it recom- 
 menced in a more feeble way, when we ceased firing by com- 
 pany and fired at will again. While the volley firing was 
 going on, I received what seemed like a hard blow on the 
 right side of my head which staggered me; but I immedi- 
 ately guessed the cause of it and turned around to my rear- 
 rank man, who had to fire over my shoulder, and soundly 
 berated and threatened him. He proved to be the stupid and 
 excitable recruit, named Davis, whom I had drilled in Wash- 
 ington at times. My neck and ear were blackened with powder, 
 and it was months before I regained perfect hearing. 
 
 233 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Loading and firing the old style muzzle loading arms was 
 slow compared with modern arms and metallic cartridges. 
 Before the gun could be fired, we had to take a paper cart- 
 ridge out of the cartridge box, convey it to the mouth, bite 
 off the end and pour the powder into the muzzle of the gun 
 barrel held vertically. Then we tore off the remaining paper 
 to free the ball and inserted that into the muzzle ; the ram- 
 rod was now drawn, turned around, end for end, and the ball 
 rammed home without any wadding; the ramrod was then 
 drawn out, turned and restored to its place. The gun was 
 now brought to the right hip, full cocked, a percussion cap 
 placed on the nipple, and was then ready to aim and fire. 
 All this required many motions and much time. 
 
 The day was intensely hot, my clothing was saturated 
 with perspiration, the bright barrel of my gun was so heated 
 by the fierce rays of the sun and the firing that it seemed 
 to burn my hands and I was almost afraid to reload it with- 
 out giving it time to cool off. I think we had been under 
 fire nearly two hours, and our forty rounds of ammunition 
 were almost exhausted when a regiment of the Pennsyl- 
 vania Bucktails (so called because each soldier had a buck's 
 tail sewed to his cap) arrived to relieve us. We were or- 
 dered to retire into the small ravine behind us, passing 
 through the ranks of the Bucktails who advanced to take 
 our places. We left our dead and seriously wounded behind 
 us where they fell, unable to give them any help, crossed the 
 little stream in the ravine and formed ranks on the other 
 side in a field a much shorter line thaPit had been but two 
 hours before. 
 
 We marched off in good order to the rear until we gained 
 some rising ground, when a Rebel battery opened on us with 
 grape shot which killed and wounded more of our men, 
 among them Captain Richard Brindley who commanded 
 the regiment at this time. He was instantly killed by a 
 grape shot. We broke into double quick pace to reach lower 
 ground and escape from the fire of this battery; then we 
 turned to the right in the direction of the Adams house and 
 
 234 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 halted about a half a mile back of our firing line, where we 
 found some regiments from General Slocum's division, which 
 had been sent by General McClellan from the other side of 
 the Chickahominy to reinforce the Fifth Army Corps which 
 up to this time had held more than double its number of the 
 enemy at bay. The battle at this time was raging fiercely 
 nearly a hundred thousand men were engaged ; from our po- 
 sition, however, we saw but little of it except some batteries 
 on high ground behind us firing over our heads at the enemy. 
 
 We lay on the ground, tired and exhausted by what we 
 had gone through, noting the absence of many of our com- 
 rades and relating to each other how we had seen this or 
 that one fall. Three of our lieutenants we had not seen 
 since noon-time ; and we wondered what had become of our 
 band and the drummers and fifers, whom we had not seen 
 since morning, and who should have been acting as 
 stretcher-bearers to carry the wounded off the field. There 
 was no organized ambulance corps in our brigade at this 
 time, and but few ambulances; and, unfortunately, the 
 wounded soldiers who could not walk were left on the field 
 where they fell. This sad state of affairs was much im- 
 proved later on in the war. 
 
 Some ammunition now arived, but only twenty rounds 
 could be served out to each man. The first sergeant of my 
 company informed me that I had been selected to serve on 
 the color guard. This was considered an honor, but it had 
 its disadvantages, the killed and wounded being always 
 greater in proportion on the color guard than in the com- 
 panies. One of our two color sergeants had been killed and 
 two of the color corporals wounded. I left the ranks of my 
 company and joined the color guard. I expected to find the 
 colors riddled with bullet holes from the fire of the enemy 
 and was greatly surprised to find a bare half-dozen holes in 
 each. 
 
 We remained in our position a while longer and saw many 
 wounded men and stragglers making their way to the rear 
 Presently larger bodies of broken regiments appeared and 
 
 235 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 we realized that the Fifth Corps was being forced back by 
 the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Some loud cheer- 
 ing on the high ground about a quarter of a mile to the rear 
 startled us, and, from the appearance of the troops of which 
 some regiments wore straw hats, we thought they were 
 Rebels who had broken into our ranks from the rear, but 
 they proved to be parts of French's and Meagher's Irish bri- 
 gades which had been sent to reinforce General Porter. They 
 were sent too late, however, to be of material assistance. 
 
 It was nearly sunset when two officers from General Sykes's 
 staff made their appearance and gave some order to Captain 
 John S. Poland who was now in command, and immediately 
 the order was given to fall in, then by the left flank forward 
 at double quick. The two aides-de-camp were mounted and led 
 the column to make a charge on the enemy by General 
 Sykes's order; one of them was Lieutenant Thomas D. 
 Parker of my regiment, the name of the other, who belonged 
 to a different regiment, I do not remember. We rushed on for 
 about two hundred yards when we halted for a brief space 
 to correct the alignment on the colors in the center; then the 
 command "forward, charge." was given and we rushed up 
 a hill for a hundred yards or so, cheering and yelling like 
 mad, the two aides-de-camp riding in front in the center 
 waving their swords. 
 
 It suddenly came to me that we were about to attack the 
 enemy with bayonets. I had been instructed in bayonet 
 drill and had practised until I was considered proficient ; but I 
 think at this moment I had a secret wish that the adversary 
 whom I might encounter would not be a bigger man than I. I 
 looked ahead but could see no enemy until we reached the crest 
 of the hill, when we suddenly received a staggering fire, from a 
 Rebel regiment that seemed not more than twenty yards 
 away. I saw both of the mounted officers fall at the first fire, 
 Lieutenant Parker being killed and the other wounded. One 
 of the horses dropped, while the other rushed madly through 
 our ranks. 
 
 I do not know whether it was by word of command or by 
 
 236 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 instinct that we halted and instantly began firing instead of 
 rushing on with the bayonet. I dropped on one knee and 
 commenced firing as fast as I could ; I aimed at their colors 
 which were almost opposite ours. We were so close together 
 that for a few minutes I could plainly distinguish the features 
 and color of clothing of our opponents until the smoke obscured 
 them. Suddenly their fire slackened and then ceased alto- 
 gether ; they seemed to have melted away down their side of 
 the hill, and we could see only their dead and wounded on 
 the ground where they had been in line. Why we did not 
 pursue the retreating enemy puzzled me, for I thought we 
 now had a chance to give them a good thrashing 
 
 I stood up and looked around on a sight still vividly im- 
 pressed on my memory. We were on high ground over- 
 looking a considerable part of the fields on which the battle 
 now raged ; the sun was setting and with its almost horizon- 
 tal rays lit up a magnificent panorama such as I have never 
 seen since. I could see masses of infantry engaged in deadly 
 struggle, the flashing of the artillery, and I heard the terri- 
 fic roar; but what fascinated me was the figure of a Rebel 
 officer, mounted on a horse reared up until he seemed to 
 stand almost straight on his hind legs. I could see the officer 
 waving his sword over his head, apparently urging his 
 command forward. At this moment the horse and rider, 
 illuminated by the parting rays of the sun, appeared gigan- 
 tic and towered above all else. It was a picture for an 
 artist. I took all this in, it seemed to me, in a few seconds, 
 when I heard a command given and dropped back into my 
 place. The enemy had been so close to us, and I had been 
 so busy loading and firing, that I had looked neither to the 
 right nor to the left, but now I observed that we had suf- 
 fered severely and that two corporals of the color guard had 
 been wounded. 
 
 Suddenly we heard the Rebel yell and saw a mass of Rebel 
 infantry rushing toward us. We began firing at them as 
 soon as we saw their heads appear above the crest of the 
 hill. They halted, short of their former line it seemed to 
 
 237 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 me, and delivered their fire as we had done when we had 
 rushed at them. Later on, when I had time to think it over, 
 it seemed to me that these tactics were not in accordance 
 with what I had supposed a charge to be. In this case both 
 sides, finding that the party attacked was not inclined to run, 
 halted and peppered away at each other rather than become 
 engaged at close quarters. 
 
 Our condition now was rather serious. Our ammunition 
 was running very low and I suppose there were no rein- 
 forcements close at hand. A German battery posted on 
 some high ground behind us tried to aid by firing at the 
 Rebels, but unfortunately their aim was bad and they did 
 us more harm than they did to the enemy ; a few of our men 
 on the right being killed and some wounded in the back by 
 the firing of this battery. 
 
 I had not fired many shots in the second encounter on the 
 hill and was in the act of ramming a cartridge, when a com- 
 mand or shout caused me to look to the right and I saw that 
 our right wing had broken and were running down the hill 
 helter-skelter, and that we were being fired at from that di- 
 rection, as well as from the front. I understood that we had 
 been outflanked and that we would be taken prisoners. I 
 yelled to my comrades of the color guard and started to run 
 with them, not taking time to withdraw the ramrod from the 
 barrel of my gun. There was a friendly piece of woods a 
 hundred yards or more ahead of us to our right a shelter 
 we were all striving for, but which many did not reach for 
 the enemy kept up a hot fire all the way. Twice I had to 
 jump over men who had been hit and rolled over in my 
 path. The enemy kept on firing volleys into the woods for 
 a time but made no attempt to follow us. I got behind a 
 tree and, like many others, fired off half a dozen catridges in 
 the enemy's direction, retaining but two out of the sixty I 
 had during the day. Darkness was coming on. For us the 
 Battle of Gaines's Mill was over, but it still raged on other 
 parts of the field as long as it was light, and I think it was 
 nine o'clock before all firing ceased. I learned later that our 
 
 238 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 last attack had been made on Turkey Hill, not very far from 
 the position we had held at noon before the battle began. 
 Therefore we had lost little ground. 
 
 Efforts were now made by our officers to reform our com- 
 mand which had become scattered throughout the woods; 
 and with difficulty the remnants were gathered together and 
 we made our way out of the woods to the road by which we 
 had approached in the forenoon. Here we reformed ranks 
 and took up our march in retreat. 
 
 We soon came to a place where the road was skirted by 
 thick woods on the left and a high bank on the right with 
 a free space between the bank and the road on which were 
 piled hundreds of boxes of infantry and artillery ammuni- 
 tion. As we passed, a young and very indiscreet officer 
 made frantic appeals to some of us to stop and help him set 
 fire to the ammunition to prevent it from falling into the 
 hands of the enemy. No attention was paid to him further 
 than calling him a fool, for the road was crowded with re- 
 treating troops and wounded men making their way pain- 
 fully to the rear. An explosion of the ammunition would 
 have made sad havoc among them. 
 
 After a while we arrived at the point of the road where we 
 had deposited our knapsacks. Here we were halted and 
 told to pick them out in a hurry. It was dark by this time 
 and the piles of knapsacks seemed to be mixed up in hope- 
 less confusion. Very few of the soldiers got their own; I 
 could not find mine nor even one belonging to my company. 
 I had to grab one and rejoin the ranks. 
 
 We resumed our march in the direction of Woodbury's 
 Bridge, and when we neared it, we were ordered to bivouac 
 in a piece of woods on the left side of the road. I sought my 
 company to bivouac with them, but could find only a few 
 men. The first sergeant had a prisoner in charge, a Rebel 
 lieutenant whom he turned over to me as I was the only non- 
 commissioned officer of the company present besides him- 
 self. He told me to have him guarded during the night, but 
 I resolved to guard him myself for a time and then turn him 
 
 239 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 over to someone else. I talked with him for a while and 
 gave him a couple of my crackers, and fortunately, he had a 
 canteen of his own with some water in it, of which I was 
 very glad, as I had but a swallow or two left in mine, hav- 
 ing been unable to replenish it during the day. He lay down 
 on the ground, after telling me that he was slightly wounded 
 in the leg and apparently went to sleep. I tried hard to keep 
 awake and for a while listened to our army marching on the 
 road to the bridge ; but I was so tired and exhausted by the 
 trials of the day that, in spite of my resolution, I dropped to 
 the ground and to sleep ; and I think the heaviest cannonad- 
 ing could not have awakened me before daybreak. When, 
 in the morning, someone shook me and I looked about, I 
 found that my prisoner had escaped during the night. 
 Nothing was said or done about it, and I was thankful that 
 the prisoner had not harmed me, helpless as I was from 
 fatigue. 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-eighth of June most of our 
 stragglers and men who had lost their way in the woods 
 the evening before rejoined us. The greater part of the 
 army had crossed to the south side of the Chickahominy during 
 the night, and it was left to Sykes's division of regulars to 
 form the rear guard and destroy the bridges, which we did 
 about an hour after daylight, unmolested by the enemy at 
 the Woodbury Bridge where my brigade crossed. When 
 we reached the other side we marched half a mile or more 
 until we reached some higher ground, where we stacked 
 arms and rested among some shrubbery beside the road. 
 
 Here for the first time in two days, I was able to boil some 
 coffee which greatly cheered and refreshed me. I then 
 opened the knapsack which I had picked up the night before 
 and found therein the usual soldier's kit, and in addition 
 thereto a neat and well-kept diary, in which the writer de- 
 scribed how he had left his home in England and had come 
 to Canada, where after a time he was employed on the 
 estate of a gentleman as a horse-trainer; and how he got 
 into some trouble with the female members of the family 
 
 240 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and was discharged, when he made his way into the United 
 States and finally drifted into the army. Up to this point 
 the diary was very complete and full of details ; but of his 
 army life there were only a few straggling entries made at 
 odd times. No name appeared, neither was his company 
 mentioned, but I found some initials on his clothing by 
 means of which, after many inquiries, I found the company 
 to which he belonged, but he had not been seen since our 
 last fight with the enemy on Turkey Hill, where he was 
 supposed to have been killed or taken prisoner. I left the 
 diary with the first sergeant of his company to be returned 
 to him if he ever came back. I made inquiries in regard to 
 my own knapsack but could find no trace of it. The only 
 things I regretted losing were a few letters and keepsakes. 
 
 Many of our wounded were transported to, or had gone 
 on to Savage's Station, where there were thousands of them, 
 but there were still a number of slightly wounded with us 
 who kept our surgeon and hospital steward, assisted by a 
 detail from the band, busy all the morning dressing their 
 wounds. First sergeants of companies called the roll during 
 the morning and, when they came to a name to which there 
 was no response, those who had seen the man fall, killed or 
 wounded stated it and the sergeant made note of it; of 
 others, no one knew anything. Some of them may have 
 been taken prisoners at Turkey Hill. In this way we learn- 
 ed approximately of our losses in this battle, which amount- 
 ed to more than one-third of my regiment a larger amount 
 in proportion to our small number, only six companies, than 
 any other regiment in our brigade. Our losses could not be 
 computed accurately until sometime later. General George 
 Sykes, in his report of the Battle of Gaines's Mill, mentions 
 the Second and Sixth United States Infantry of our brigade, 
 the Twelfth and Fourteenth of the First Brigade, and the 
 "Duryee Zouaves" of the Third Brigade as especially con- 
 spicuous during the action. 
 
 All of the Army of the Potomac was now united on the 
 south side of the Chickahominy nearer to Richmond than 
 
 241 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the greater part of the Rebel Army which was now divided 
 by a river as we had been Jackson's, Longstreet's and Hill's 
 divisions under General Lee being on the north bank with 
 many of the bridges destroyed by the Federal troops in their 
 retreat. Even the rank and file knew this and we fully ex- 
 pected to be led on to Richmond with every chance of suc- 
 cess in our favor ; and when in the afternoon we heard some 
 heavy firing on our side of the river, we thought our op- 
 portunity had arrived, but, as we learned later, it was only 
 a minor engagement between a part of General Magruder's 
 troops and General Smith's division of our Sixth Army 
 Corps at Golding's Farm and was repulsed with small loss 
 on our side. 
 
 We lay around in the hot sun all day, getting but little 
 shade from some low bushes, were awaiting orders, but 
 none came until evening. Ammunition was issued to us and 
 one day's rations. Our supply trains to the number of about 
 five thousand wagons, together with the reserve artillery, 
 were on the way to the James river, where General Mc- 
 Clellan had decided to establish a new base of supplies. 
 Well on towards evening we received orders to "fall in," 
 and marched off not knowing where we were going; but 
 about dusk we arrived at Savage's Station on the Richmond 
 and York River Railroad. Here many troops were in biv- 
 ouac and thousands of wounded were gathered in hospital 
 tents by the roadside, but the greater part of them lay 
 around in the fields or woods without shelter of any kind. 
 It was a sad sight for us to witness. There were not am- 
 bulances enough to transport the unfortunate victims and 
 more than twenty-five hundred of them were abandoned and 
 taken prisoners next day. We were halted here for some- 
 time and noticed great fires burning up supplies and mili- 
 tary stores of all kinds which left no doubt in our minds 
 that we were retreating from Richmond. 
 
 We started on again and soon entered some dark and 
 gloomy woods, through which the road led toward the 
 White Oak Swamp. It was so dark in these woods that we 
 
 242 
 
TEN YEARS IN 'THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 could not distinguish anything half a dozen files in front of 
 us. At a few places where the roads crossed, fires were 
 lighted and guards were stationed to indicate the way. 
 Owing to the darkness, mainly, and some rain, our progress 
 was very slow and we had many halts of long and short dur- 
 ation, at some of these tired out, I dropped to the ground 
 and fell asleep as soon as I touched it. During one of these 
 short rests in the night, I was suddenly awakened by hear- 
 ing shots fired close by me. I jumped up and in my con- 
 fusion imagined that we were being attacked. I hid behind 
 a tree on one side of the road, like many others, cocked my 
 gun and listened. There was a noise which sounded like 
 cavalry and a chatter like sabre scabbards, it seemed to us 
 in our half-awake condition. Scattering shots continued to 
 be fired, until it was discovered that the alarm was caused by 
 an officer's pack-mule, that had escaped from his keeper and 
 was running down the road among the sleeping soldiers, 
 rattling the kettles and pans which were a part of his load. 
 A number of shots were fired at him, but the mule bore a 
 charmed life and was unharmed. 
 
 Soon after daylight on June twenty-ninth, we crossed the 
 White Oak Swamp at what was known as Brackett's Ford, 
 halting a short distance beyond, where we stopped to boil 
 coffee and eat breakfast. The only water to be had was 
 that of the swamp which was dark and stagnant. After 
 breakfast we took up a position a little further on and re- 
 mained in line of battle for hours, listening to the heavy 
 firing behind us at Savage's Station, where General Sum- 
 ner kept the enemy at bay until dark and then retreated dur- 
 ing the night across White Oak Swamp. 
 
 The country we were in was a wilderness of woods, bush 
 and swamps, and for two days we hardly saw a clearing, or 
 a cabin. The enemy had repaired some of the bridges 
 across the Chickahominy and we were in danger of flank 
 attacks from both sides, the more so on our right, between 
 us and the James river where the enemy followed us on a 
 parallel road. Several times during the day in these woods, 
 
 243 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 where the heat was almost insupportable and not a breath 
 of air was stirring, we thought we were about to be at- 
 tacked, and, with our rifles at full cock, kneeled on the 
 ground peering into the thicket and silently awaited the 
 foe. At different periods of the day some of our own troops 
 marched along the road in the direction of Malvern Hill, 
 but we remained until dark, only changing our position slightly 
 a few times. After dark we resumed our march and put in 
 another distressing night; the more so, as the guide for 
 Sykes's division lost the road, causing us to countermarch 
 for a long distance, so that we did not reach Malvern Hill 
 where we were due in the early morning hours of June 
 thirtieth until nearly noon next day. On this day a severe 
 battle was fought at Glendale, which lay between the White 
 Oak Swamp and Malvern Hill, by Generals McCall and 
 Kearney against Generals Longstreet and Hill of the Con- 
 federates. This battle resulted in a repulse for the enemy 
 and enabled our troops to retire to Malvern Hill during the 
 night, where by daylight on July first the entire Army of the 
 Potomac was assembled in a strong position selected by 
 General McClellan. 
 
 Sykes's division, upon its arrival during the forenoon of 
 June thirtieth was posted on the western edge of the large 
 Malvern plateau, from the Malvern house toward the Crew 
 house, except General Warren's brigade which formed the 
 extreme left down on the river road in the bottom lands. 
 Half a dozen batteries, including Tyler's battery of ten siege 
 guns, were stationed at the edge of the plateau overlooking 
 the steep slope and the fields in front, which ended with some 
 woods about a thousand yards away. The regiments of Sykes's 
 division were placed between the batteries for their support. 
 My own was very close to the Malvern house, an old Colonial 
 mansion built of bricks brought from Holland. General Fitz- 
 John Porter made this house his headquarters. It was also 
 used as a hospital during the battle and as a signal station, 
 for it overlooked much of the country and the James river, 
 where several gunboats armed with heavy guns were an- 
 
 244 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 chored. My regiment and another were placed between the 
 siege-gun battery and a regular battery of six Napoleon 
 guns. 
 
 The position occupied by the Fifth Corps was a command- 
 ing one and we hoped the enemy would attempt to assault 
 it. We lay down in the hot sun, thoroughly tired out after 
 our night's marching. There was water at the foot 
 of the plateau and by details we replenished our empty can- 
 teens but were forbidden to build any fires to make coffee 
 besides there was no wood to be had near our position. 
 Shortly after our arrival at Malvern Hill a gill of whiskey 
 was served to each man who wished to take it, also three 
 pieces of hard-tack. I suppose these were a part of com- 
 missary stores left behind, for our wagon-train was by this 
 time well on its way to Harrison's Landing on the James 
 river. We rested and slept during the afternoon, until 
 rudely awakened by our batteries beginning to fire on the 
 enemy down in the low ground in our front and near War- 
 ren's brigade. A sergeant of the Fourteenth Infantry, who 
 had probably had a little more than his gill and was con- 
 fused when tardily aroused by the firing, cried out, "Is it 
 possible I'm in the hands of the enemy? I'm a British sub- 
 ject !" 
 
 The Rebels advanced some artillery from the woods to a 
 position within eight hundred yards of us and opened fire, 
 some of their shells passing over us, some dropping among 
 Warren's men. By standing up, I could plainly see their bat- 
 teries out in the field, as well as a large body of infantry at 
 the edge of the woods supporting them. In a few minutes 
 some three dozen of our guns on the plateau were firing at 
 them, making a tremendous uproar, above which we could 
 distinguish the sound of the large guns from the gunboats 
 on the river and the explosion of their enormous shells among 
 the enemy in the woods, the effect of which must have been 
 terrifying. The position of the Rebel batteries and their in- 
 fantry was invisible to the gunboats owing to intervening 
 woods, so that their fire was directed by signals. The signal 
 
 245 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 corps had built a platform at one of the chimneys on the 
 steep roof of the Malvern House, from which I noticed two 
 men making signals. Whenever one of the great two-hun- 
 dred-pound shells, fired at great height, rushed through the 
 air, it sounded like a train of cars in motion at high speed 
 and the explosion shook the earth. Some of these shells 
 fell short in the fields in our front; all did not explode 
 some spun around, threw up dirt and dug holes in which it 
 seemed a horse could have been buried. The well-directed 
 fire of our guns on the edge of the plateau destroyed the 
 Rebel batteries in less than a half hour. Several caissons 
 were blown up, the soldiers abandoned their guns in wild 
 flight, and the infantry disappeared, making no further at- 
 tempt to molest Warren's brigade on the river road that day. 
 
 After a short engagement, in which there were only a few 
 casualties on our side, it remained fairly quiet on the left 
 wing during the evening and throughout the night, and for 
 the first time since leaving our camp at Gaines's Mill we had 
 a night of unbroken rest, wrapped in our blankets. I was so 
 weary that even the certainty of a battle the next day could 
 not keep me awake, and I slept soundly until awakened at 
 daylight. 
 
 The morning of July first broke bright and clear, and gave 
 promise of a hot day. The Union Army seemed in excellent 
 spirits; bands could be heard playing patriotic airs in the 
 early morning on various parts of our line; our own band 
 played for a time with a most cheering effect. Our gigantic 
 and genial Drum-Major Lovell whirled his baton joyously 
 and showed no disappointment because his daily prayer to 
 the Lord to send him a million dollars remained unanswered. 
 He hoped, as he explained to us, that some day He would 
 get tired and say, "Let the poor devil have it and not bother 
 me any longer." Later on the Lord was good to him, for 
 he became one of the color sergeants of the regiment and re- 
 mained in that capacity for eighteen months until the close 
 of the war, without receiving a scratch ; and he was the only 
 color bearer in my regiment who served that length of time 
 
 246 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 without death or injury. He remained in the army for many 
 years after the war ; but, alas ! ended his days in the Soldiers' 
 Home in Washington. 
 
 The enemy were massing under cover of the woods all the 
 morning; we caught glimpses of them through some of the 
 clearings. After ten o'clock in the morning they advanced 
 a battery occasionally, feeling different parts of our line, but 
 were always quickly silenced by a concentrated fire from 
 our artillery. Some one of the batteries which we supported 
 kept throwing shells into the woods where the Rebels were 
 supposed to be massing, and the gunboats also fired an oc- 
 casional shell. This artillery duel went on until about one 
 o'clock in the afternoon, when heavy infantry firing took 
 place toward the center of our line. This went on for some 
 hours, spreading toward the right ; then for a time it slack- 
 ened, only to recommence with renewed vigor after five 
 o'clock when the most desperate efforts were made to break 
 our line, but without success. 
 
 During this time all the batteries in our vicinity kept up a 
 tremendous fire, as did Tyler's siege-guns and the gunboats. It 
 was estimated that at times, when nearly all the artillery on 
 both sides were engaged, over two hundred guns were in 
 action. The earth trembled and the roar of the many guns 
 so close to us was deafening. I think it was the heaviest 
 firing which I heard during the war. Again we were in a 
 passive state, in a position prone to the ground to escape the 
 shells from the enemy, unable to fire a shot, as the Rebel in- 
 fantry made no attack on our part of the line ; they deemed 
 our position too strong to be assaulted and did not have ar- 
 tillery enough to make any serious impression. 
 
 During this great artillery duel two of the immense shells 
 from the gunboats dropped short and landed among the 
 siege-guns beside us. One of the shells exploded, killing and 
 wounding several men. The gunboat fire was stopped for a 
 time by signal, then recommenced in a different direction. The 
 batteries in our vicinity suffered little loss and in my regiment 
 only two men were wounded during all this firing. About 
 
 247 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 sundown the heavy volleys at the center and right of our line 
 ceased, the attacks of the enemy in masses had been repulsed 
 and they had withdrawn with great loss, without penetrating 
 our line at any point. The batteries we supported ceased firing, 
 but a heavy, desultory infantry fire with occasional cannon 
 shots warned us that the battle was not yet over. 
 
 Suddenly we received orders to form ranks and my regiment 
 marched off by the Quaker Road in the direction of the Crew 
 House, near the center of our line and about a mile away. 
 Our band, led by the drum-major, was at the head and, by or- 
 ders of Captain Poland, began playing. It was the first and 
 the only time during the war that I heard a band play, while 
 a battle was on. We marched as if on parade; the music was 
 inspiring and drew cheers from the troops among which we 
 passed. This was kept up until we turned off the road and 
 some spent balls began to drop among us, when the band 
 ceased playing and fell in behind. 
 
 We marched on toward the place we were to occupy and, 
 when near it, we passed a curious little battery which was 
 stationed alongside of a barn. They were busy firing. I had 
 remarked this battery a few times when it passed us on the 
 road, while we were marching up the peninsula. It consisted 
 of a small gun-carriage and limber drawn by two horses; on 
 the gun-carriage was mounted a single steel barrel, somewhat 
 longer and heavier than an ordinary gun-barrel, but of about 
 the same calibre; there was a cranked handle to turn and a 
 hopper to receive cartridges. The soldiers named it the "coffee- 
 mill battery." It really looked like a large coffee-mill mounted 
 on wheels, except for the barrel. It required the services of 
 three men to fire the gun one to feed cartridges into the hop- 
 per, another to raise or depress the barrel and swing it right or 
 left in a quarter-circle and to take aim, while the third man 
 turned the crank which caused the explosion of the charges. 
 I think there were six of these guns, and their pop-pop-pop 
 was quite rapid and continuous as we passed by them. They 
 were the elementary production of the later inventions the 
 mitrailleuse and gatling guns. They disappeared soon after 
 
 248 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that from the Army of the Potomac and I never saw them in 
 action again. 
 
 When we reached our position along a wide and deep 
 ravine, it was almost dark and objects at some distance could 
 only be distinguished with difficulty. An irresolute fire was 
 opened upon us from the opposite side of the ravine, to which 
 we immediately replied, although all we could see of the foe 
 were the flashes of their guns, which stopped in about ten 
 minutes after which we received the command to cease firing. 
 Half a dozen were wounded in this short engagement, but none 
 killed. We remained silent in our position, awaiting a possible 
 attack, hearing very plainly some of the commands given by 
 the Rebel officers on the opposite side of the dark ravine. 
 From the ravine itself, we heard groans and cries of wounded 
 men who were evidently Rebels, for one among them, probably 
 an officer, in his delirium sometimes cried out, "Charge, Ninth 
 Georgia !" 
 
 The firing on other parts of the line of battle did not cease 
 entirely for an hour or more, and then the enemy seemed to 
 have retired, leaving us completely victorious. I think it must 
 have been much later than ten o'clock, when the word was 
 quietly passed along the ranks to quit our position and creep 
 back as silently as possible. I did this a part of the way, 
 then went the rest of the distance in a crouching position, until 
 we were halted and re-formed our line. Then we marched 
 a little farther, halted again, and sat on the ground, resting 
 and wondering what these movements meant. 
 
 Later, the first sergeant of my company called me and con- 
 ducted me to the adjutant, who ordered me to make my way 
 to the Malvern house, where one of our lieutenants and a com- 
 pany of our men had been left as a guard at the general hos- 
 pital, and to inform the officer to hold himself and his men in 
 readiness to rejoin the regiment when it passed during the 
 night or morning. Since we were in the field I had been 
 selected several times for special duties, but I did not like 
 this one in the least. I knew the general direction of the 
 Malvern house, whence we had come, and if I could gain the 
 
 249 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Quaker Road the rest would be easy. But to reach this road 
 it was necessary to cross some fields and a piece of woods, and 
 it struck me I had a good chance of being shot by some picket, 
 or getting lost and being taken prisoner. 
 
 The sky was overcast and the night dark. I made my way 
 cautiously towards the woods and just before reaching them 
 passed over an elevated piece of ground, where evidently one 
 of our batteries had been stationed during the day. I inferred 
 this from a number of dead horses, some with their stiffened 
 legs up in the air, and among them a few dark forms which 
 I knew but too well were the bodies of artillerists. I hurried 
 over this place and gained the edge of the woods which I 
 dreaded the most on account of pickets, but was not challenged. 
 I halted a moment and listened, thinking I heard the clatter of 
 accoutrements and the heavy tramp of marching men. I knew 
 that this could only be some of our army and felt much re- 
 lieved. 
 
 Presently I was among them on the Quaker Road, for the 
 woods proved to be shallow. These soldiers belonged to an- 
 other corps and were retreating very reluctantly toward the 
 James river. There was much grumbling among them; they 
 wondered why, after a victory and with a retiring enemy, they 
 were ordered to leave a strong position. We learned later 
 that some of the corps commanders had importuned General 
 McClellan to hold Malvern Hill, but the General ruled against 
 it, giving as his reason the difficulty of supplying the army 
 in that location. 
 
 I reached the Malvern house a little before midnight and 
 found a sentinel who directed me to the lieutenant in charge. 
 He was fast asleep. I awakened him and repeated the adju- 
 tant's orders. He ordered some of the men to watch the 
 road near the corner of the house and notify him when the 
 regiment appeared. On looking around I saw that the house 
 was brightly lighted and there was much commotion caused 
 by officers and orderlies rushing in and out of General Porter's 
 headquarters; it was also the principal hospital, and in the 
 out-buildings and some tents I could see surgeons attending 
 
 250 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the wounded and performing amputations by candle-light, while 
 the ground back of the house was covered with wounded 
 soldiers. 
 
 I did not tarry long to look at this heart-rending scene, but 
 made my way along the front of the house and the out-houses. 
 I was hungry and was looking around to find something to 
 eat. My haversack was almost empty ; and I knew the neces- 
 sity of saving something for the morrow, as we were not 
 likely to get any rations until we came to our supply trains. 
 As we had not been able to make coffee for some days, I had 
 plenty of that and sugar, but I had no meat and only a few 
 crackers, so I prowled around until I observed a half dozen 
 soldiers near the corner of a fence where there was a heap of 
 boxes and barrels, which proved to be commissary stores left 
 unguarded and probably forgotten. I joined the group and 
 found them dipping their tin cups into a barrel, of which they 
 had knocked in the head, and filling their canteens with what 
 I knew from the odor to be whiskey. This seemed a heaven- 
 sent opportunity and one not to be neglected. I emptied my 
 canteen of water and filled it with whiskey. Some boxes of 
 hard-tack had been opened, from which I filled my haversack. 
 There were still some barrels of whiskey, also barrels of pork, 
 which the group decided it would be unsafe to break open on 
 account of the noise it would make. I dipped my quart cup 
 into the barrel once more and hurried away with it in my hand, 
 returning to the guard with whom I shared its contents. I 
 kept silent regarding my canteen, however. I did not dare tell 
 my comrades where I got the liquor, for fear some of them 
 would become intoxicated ; so I was forced to invent a tale of 
 having received it from one of the hospital stewards, who was 
 a friend of mine. I took especial care to guard my canteen 
 with its precious contents, then wrapped myself in my blanket 
 and went to sleep among my comrades. 
 
 I was awakened at daylight when our brigade approached. 
 We hurried to the road and waited until the regiment came 
 along, then joined its ranks. Sykes's division was again cover- 
 ing the retreat of the army. The First Brigade, under Colonel 
 
 251 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Buchannan, formed the rear guard while our brigade imme- 
 diately preceded them. It was storming, as it generally did after 
 a battle, and the rain soon came down in torrents, wetting us 
 to the skin in a few minutes. It was a cold, chilly rain which 
 lasted all day. 
 
 The army had been retreating from a defeated enemy on 
 this road all night, again leaving many of our wounded behind. 
 By the time we reached Haxall's and the bottom-lands, we 
 found the road in a frightful condition. Cut up as it had 
 been by thousands of wagons and artillery, it was now a liquid 
 quagmire from the torrential rain. We tore down fences 
 and crossed fields to avoid some impassable places. We waded 
 through many ditches and small streams, often knee-deep, and 
 had many halts and interruptions, often coming to a halt in a 
 part of the road where it was impossible to sit down for a 
 much-needed rest, unless we should sit in mud nearly a foot 
 deep. My shoes were soon filled with gritty liquid mud which 
 chafed the skin and made marching very painful and dis- 
 tressing. At one time I just saved myself from falling, while 
 crossing a stream, and my rifle slipped from my grasp and 
 was submerged in the muddy water. I doubt if I could have 
 discharged it if I had needed to do so. 
 
 I cannot describe our misery and suffering on this day, the 
 seventh of the retreat, and by far the worst of all. We had 
 reached the limit of endurance, weakened as we were by 
 battles, marching and want of food. We had become callous 
 and cared little what became of those who dropped out from 
 exhaustion or of small squads of wounded men who were 
 limping painfully along the road, sometimes being knocked 
 down and crying out in anguish for help. The rule of self- 
 preservation had a deplorable demonstration on this awful 
 day. 
 
 Several times we formed line of battle in the fields, ready 
 to repel the enemy who pursued and harassed the rear guard 
 just behind us. Stuart's Rebel cavalry and a light battery of 
 artillery followed us all day and occasionally sent a few shells 
 into our ranks. We also had cavalry with the rear guard who 
 
 252 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 skirmished with the enemy, and a battery of regular artillery 
 which more than once took up a commanding position beside 
 the road and with our cavalry kept the enemy in check. Dur- 
 ing the forenoon, while at a long halt, I gave Lieutenant 
 McLoughlin, who now commanded my company (and the 
 only company officer present at this time, Lieutenant Kidd hav- 
 ing been wounded) a drink of whiskey from my canteen and 
 he declared I had saved his life. He laughed when I explained 
 how I had got it, but remarked that I was lucky not to have 
 been caught. I took a big drink myself which cheered me, wet 
 and shivering as I was ; the remainder I doled out to my com- 
 rades, as far as it would go, and for that day at least I was 
 the most popular member of the company. 
 
 We reached Harrison's Landing while it was still daylight. 
 Although the distance was not more than about eight miles, 
 it had taken us twelve hours to make it owing to the state of 
 the roads, the frequent halts and the forming of line of battle 
 several times during the day. We halted at the edge of an 
 immense wheat field which I think must have been a mile 
 square. Only a small part of this field had been cut and 
 stacked in sheaves. It still rained hard. My bunkie and I 
 decided to put up our shelter tent for the first time in seven 
 days. We gathered a thick layer of the wet sheaves and lay 
 down in our wet clothing, sleeping soundly all night. We 
 could not make any coffee, but were surprised and cheered by 
 an issue of hard-tack and a gill of whiskey during the evening 
 and the promise of some meat on the morrow; which was a 
 great comfort to us in our despondent condition. 
 
 Next morning, July third, directly after reveille, a Rebel 
 battery commenced throwing shells into our camp from a 
 hill which overlooked it. We formed line of battle, advanced 
 a short distance and remained under arms until the firing 
 ceased in a short time, the battery being driven away and the 
 hill occupied by a Maine regiment. This was the finish of 
 the seven days' retreat, or "change of base," as General Mc- 
 Clellan preferred to name it. No large body of the Rebel 
 Army had followed us from Malvern Hill, where they had 
 
 253 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 received such a crushing blow that they retired within the 
 fortifications of Richmond to recuperate, leaving only small 
 reconnoitering parties to observe us. 
 
 After the firing had ceased and while we were still standing 
 in ranks, a private of my company stepped into the bushes just 
 behind us and presently we heard a shot ; and he came running 
 out, holding up a bleeding hand and crying, "I am wounded. 
 Take me to the hospital !" But he ran so fast, it would have 
 been hard to catch him. We found his rifle in the bushes, 
 apparently just discharged, which left no doubt that this was a 
 case of self-mutilation, fortunately of rare occurrence, so 
 far as I knew ; but I heard of a few cases where the mutilation 
 took place during battle. This soldier never rejoined his 
 company, which was well for him. The fear of the contempt 
 of his comrades is even more powerful a factor than disci- 
 pline in keeping a timid or nerveless soldier in the ranks dur- 
 ing battle. 
 
 As we looked at each other while in ranks, we were amazed 
 at the shocking appearance both officers and rank and file pre- 
 sented after the strenuous week we had passed through. Our 
 clothing was torn and shapeless and coated with sticky mud 
 from head to foot ; our faces and hands were grimy with 
 powder and dirt, for few had had opportunity to wash them- 
 selves for a week. Several who were slightly wounded wore 
 bandages. Our guns were rusty but serviceable. Some had 
 lost their knapsacks and some a part of their accoutrements, 
 and upon all the faces there was a gaunt and weary look which 
 plainly told the story of our endurance. Of the great field of 
 wheat which I had seen the evening before, scarcely any re- 
 mained that had not been trampled down during the night 
 by soldiers and horses. 
 
 The rain had ceased, but the sky was still clouded and the 
 day cheerless. During the forenoon we marched to a point 
 within about a mile and a half of Harrison's Landing and 
 the brigade encamped on low ground on the border of a 
 sluggish and boggy creek, where we were destined to remain 
 for many weeks sweltering under the great heat of the summer. 
 
 254 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 The first advance upon Richmond had failed, as did also 
 the second under General Grant two years later, when he 
 operated on substantially the same ground against the same 
 enemy reduced in number and resources. Military writers and 
 historians have accused General McClellan of grave errors in 
 the Peninsula Campaign ; but some of them accuse the Admin- 
 istration at Washington, together with the Joint Committee 
 of Congress on the conduct of the war, of graver errors and 
 blame them as being the real cause for the unsuccessful ter- 
 mination of this campaign. That the Army of the Potomac, 
 made up of as fine and intelligent soldiers as ever took the 
 field, remained as true and loyal to its commander after this 
 campaign as it had been before, proved beyond question that 
 it had not lost confidence in him. 
 
 The "retreat" to the James river was not a retreat in the 
 usual sense of the word; we kept our formation, all our 
 movements were directed by General McClellan and there never 
 was a rout. We fought daily battles in all of which, except 
 that of Gaines's Mill, we were successful in checking the enemy 
 and keeping them at bay until a new position was gained. We 
 lost none of our artillery, except in battle, and we saved all 
 of our heavy siege guns and our immense wagon-train pre- 
 ceded the army. All this was done in an unknown, swampy 
 country with few roads upon which a great army could march 
 and make any rapid progress, even if unpursued by a deter- 
 mined enemy. The enemy's losses in the seven days' battles 
 were greater than ours by nearly four thousand men, according 
 to authorities. 
 
 The battle of Gaines's Mill, although not ranking as one of 
 the great battles of the war, was remarkable, being the one with 
 the greatest disparity in numbers. When the battle commenced 
 General Porter had only the Fifth Army Corps, consisting of 
 less than twenty thousand men, to oppose double their number, 
 and it was not until late in the afternoon that Slocum's division 
 of seven thousand reinforced him. For four hours the power- 
 ful enemy tried in vain to break our lines and it was not until 
 near sundown that, reinforced by General Jackson's troops, 
 
 255 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 augmenting their numbers to more than sixty-five thousand, 
 against our less than thirty thousand actually engaged, they 
 succeeded in breaking our line in the center ; and when darkness 
 ended the battle they had only advanced as far as the ground 
 previously occupied by our reserves. The losses of the Fifth 
 Army Corps during the seven days were about seventy-six 
 hundred, of whom forty-eight hundred were killed and 
 wounded and twenty-eight hundred captured or missing. My 
 battalion, consisting of six companies of the Second United 
 States Infantry, about three hundred and fifty present for 
 duty, lost two officers who were killed and four wounded; 
 fourteen soldiers killed, one hundred and three wounded, and 
 sixteen captured or missing total, one hundred and thirty- 
 nine, more than one-third of our number. 
 
 I had no clear idea at the time of the distance the army had 
 covered during the seven days' retreat and I was astonished 
 when twenty years later I made the trip with a friend from 
 Richmond to Haxall's, following the route of the army in a 
 single day, and had sufficient time to take a number of photo- 
 graphs. We had a carriage and a pair of good horses. The 
 coachman was black, but his name was White. We remained 
 on Malvern Hill until dark, when we went to Haxall's to spend 
 the night, much to the relief of Charlie White, who showed 
 great terror as we passed through the dark and gloomy woods 
 on our route which he said were full of ghosts. He declared 
 that "sodjer ghosts" marched on this road until daylight. 
 
 In my narration of events which occurred during McClellan's 
 Peninsular Campaign I have tried to describe in detail a 
 soldier's experience in camp, on the march, in battle and when 
 retreating before a pursuing foe, as accurately as my memory 
 permits after an interval of more than fifty years. I consider 
 that campaign unsurpassed in hardship, suffering and endur- 
 ance by any subsequent campaign while I was in the Army of 
 the Potomac, unless perhaps it be the battle of Fredericksburg 
 and General Burnside's "Mud-March," both of which occurred 
 in winter time. I therefore deem it superfluous to burden the 
 remainder of my narrative with similar details. 
 
 256 
 
PART XI. 
 
 HARRISON'S LANDING TO FREDERICKSBURG, VA. 1862-1863. 
 
 THE part of the camp at Harrison's Landing occupied 
 by our brigade was, I think, the most unhealthy spot 
 in which I had ever camped. The weather had become 
 intensely hot and water fit to drink was difficult to obtain from 
 a poor spring, at which crowds stood in line waiting for a 
 chance to fill their canteens. The water of the boggy creek was 
 soon contaminated and the sinking of barrels and cracker boxes 
 at its edge had but little effect in purifying it. Nearly a third of 
 our men were soon sick with miasma and swamp fever; the 
 hospitals were over-crowded and the mortality high. Every 
 morning and evening we heard the dead march. 
 
 Our second day in this camp was the Fourth of July, and 
 General McClellan caused a salute to be fired at noon at each 
 army corps headquarters. In the afternoon he reviewed us 
 and his address to the Army of the Potomac was read to us on 
 parade. A few days later President Lincoln visited the camp 
 and held a review in the cool of the evening. He was enthusi- 
 astically cheered. 
 
 About this time I became very ill and had to report to the 
 regimental surgeon, who wanted to send me to the hospital; 
 but I did not want to go there among so many sick and dying 
 men and remained for a few days in my tent, over which we 
 had built an arbor, which was of little use, however, as the 
 camp was exposed to the torrid sun. I became very weak. A 
 kind comrade assisted me from camp to the creek, about a 
 hundred yards away, where he spread my blanket and I lay 
 there under the shade of a tree all day, until he helped me back 
 to camp at night. It was better than remaining in the little 
 shelter tent; but I was so miserable that I cared very little 
 whether I lived or died. 
 
 257 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U. S. ARMY 
 
 The sick and wounded of the volunteers had a "sanitary 
 commission/' supported by the various states, which furnished 
 nurses, supplies and delicacies that the army could not provide. 
 The regulars, when in their own hospitals, received no such 
 attention; they had to get along on soldiers' rations, if they 
 could eat them. At this camp we had company cooks. My 
 comrade brought me rice soup from our kitchen, and on that 
 and some soft crackers and condensed milk, bought at the 
 sutler's, I managed to keep alive. In about ten days I began 
 to improve, but was greatly emaciated, and it was well towards 
 the end of July before I could take my place in the ranks again. 
 
 One of our first lieutenants and two second lieutenants, all 
 civilian appointees, who had not shown themselves at any of 
 the recent battles the regiment had been engaged in, turned up 
 at Harrison's Landing and were promptly arrested. They were 
 tried by court-martial and cashiered on July twenty-first, 1862. 
 I believe two of them succeeded in getting back into the army 
 early in 1863, and one the first lieutenant redeemed himself 
 by being killed at Gettysburg. I shall not mention the names 
 of these valiant officers ; they are recorded in the official Army 
 Register of 1862-'63. 
 
 We had been in camp about a week when we were surprised 
 by the reappearance of the captain of our company, whom we 
 had left in Georgetown four months before with a medical 
 excuse from field duty. He was more corpulent and his face 
 was more florid than ever. He brought with him some cases, 
 containing a variety of liquors, which he charged his servant 
 to guard very carefully when he was absent from his tent 
 which was seldom, as he performed no duties. Few of our 
 officers paid any attention to him or visited him in his tent, 
 with the exception of the three lieutenants under arrest; they 
 were his chums and boon companions from morning till night. 
 My tent was within ear-shot of the captain's and when I lay 
 there while sick or convalescent I could not help hearing their 
 loud talk while they were carousing a daily occurrence. They 
 fought the seven days' battles all over again, the captain bewail- 
 ing the ill health which had kept him from the active service 
 
 258 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 which he so ardently desired. Had he been in charge of the 
 brigade he would have formed an oblique square and in that 
 form he would have charged upon the enemy at a double- 
 quick. He demonstrated to the entire satisfaction of his audit- 
 ors that the impact of the sharp corner of the oblique square 
 could not have failed to break the enemy's center, while the 
 two sides of the square would have brushed away their right 
 and left wings and caused them to be annihilated by our fire. 
 He admitted that such a bold movement could be successfully 
 executed only with reliable troops like the regulars, if led by 
 an officer who was a tactician able to conceive such a daring 
 attack. At times the officers under arrest became maudlin and 
 with tearful voices lamented their hard luck in being under 
 arrest, when the captain would cheer them by saying, "Gentle- 
 men, I know you are all brave men ; trust in me, I will see you 
 vindicated! What will you take now?" 
 
 This went on until the three officers were cashiered and left 
 camp. 
 
 One night soon after the Rebels shelled the camp at Harri- 
 son's Landing and there were rumors of another advance on 
 Richmond. The captain hastily departed with bag and bag- 
 gage, leaving only the empty cases behind. This time we were 
 rid of him for good; he was retired for disability ( !) August 
 twenty-seventh, 1862, and we never saw him again. John S. 
 Poland now became captain of my company. He had been 
 graduated from the West Point Military Academy and was a 
 very efficient officer. The departure of our captain, the dis- 
 missal of the three lieutenants, a few transfers and some pro- 
 motions from the ranks, left us with a better lot of officers 
 men whom the rank and file could respect. 
 
 We were much in need of clothing, particularly shoes, and 
 these were issued to us while at Harrison's Landing; also the 
 medical department ordered whiskey and quinine occasionally 
 as a prevention against malarial fever, as had been done while 
 we were on the Chickahominy. Most of the soldiers would 
 have preferred to take this dose unmixed, dispensing with the 
 quinine. 
 
 259 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 We had regular drum and bugle calls and bands played in 
 the evening at this camp. Promotions took place among the 
 soldiers I was made a sergeant, the youngest sergeant in the 
 regiment at that time. 
 
 Shortly after midnight on August first a heavy fire from 
 field pieces on the south side of the James, which quickly 
 aroused the entire army, was opened on our camps and the 
 many vessels in the river. Our batteries at the river opened fire ; 
 so did the gun-boats. For more than half an hour there was a 
 tremendous noise of guns and exploding shells, when the 
 Rebel batteries suddenly ceased firing. None of the shells 
 reached us, but ten men were killed and fifteen wounded in the 
 camps nearer the river; the shipping received only trifling 
 damage. 
 
 Next day troops were sent across the river, my regiment 
 among them. We crossed on a steamboat, near noon ; deployed 
 as skirmishers on the other side; advanced up a hill through 
 some woods and came upon a meadow where the Rebel guns 
 had been placed, commanding our camp and the river, but 
 screened by the woods. It was possible to locate the guns and 
 count them. There were forty-one of them. Some artillery 
 ammunition was scattered about and we noticed large holes in 
 the ground near-by, made by shells from our gunboats. 
 
 The day was very hot. We lay in the shade of the woods 
 and I was taking a nap when I was awakened and ordered to 
 take six men and examine a piece of wood land on our right, 
 for half a mile or more, and then return and report. I started 
 with my little squad at a "trail arms," the guns at half-cock. 
 There was much underbrush and we advanced cautiously for 
 nearly half a mile, when I heard a noise and thought I caught 
 a glimpse of a man in a gray uniform, trying to hide behind a 
 tree only a short distance away. I made a sign to my squad to 
 halt and advancing a little nearer brought the gun to my 
 shoulder at full cock, when I challenged and was immediately 
 answered, "Friend of the Sixth Infantry !" as the man stepped 
 from behind the tree. He was dressed in a gray woolen shirt, 
 having left off his blue blouse on account of the heat. I 
 
 260 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 frightened him when I explained how near he had come to 
 being shot on account of his gray shirt. He belonged to another 
 party examining the woods from a different direction. I made 
 my way back to my command, diverging somewhat from the 
 way we had come. In a clearing we found six fine cows 
 grazing which we drove towards our party. They were kept 
 and turned over to the commissary later on. We noticed some 
 Rebel cavalry on high ground a mile or more away watching us, 
 but they did not venture any nearer. 
 
 The place where we had landed was called Coggin's Point. 
 We were on part of a large plantation, the property of a prom- 
 inent secessionist. There was a large house within view, 
 called the Cole house, which was ordered to be destroyed and 
 was set fire to by another detachment. We re-crossed the river 
 about sundown and returned to our camp. General McClellan 
 ordered Coggin's Point to be occupied and field works con- 
 structed to prevent a recurrence of a bombardment from the 
 south side of the James. 
 
 About August fourth General Hooker made a strong recon- 
 noissance in the direction of Richmond and drove a Rebel force 
 from Malvern Hill. There were rumors of a campaign and the 
 authorities at Washington and the Northern journals united in 
 urging General McClellan to become active. The sick and 
 wounded, more than ten thousand of them, were being shipped 
 North as fast as water transportation could be provided for 
 them, and we supposed that another attempt to capture Rich- 
 mond would be made. We were disagreeably surprised when 
 we learned later that we were to reinforce General Pope north 
 of the Rappahannock river, whom "Stonewall" Jackson had 
 hopelessly bewildered by his rapid movements. 
 
 The commands of Generals Freemont and Banks had been 
 withdrawn from the Shenandoah Valley when "Stonewall" 
 Jackson gave them the slip in June and by forced marches 
 reached Richmond to take part in the seven days' battles. These 
 two commands were consolidated with that of General Mc- 
 Dowell to form the Army of Virginia, which was to operate 
 between Washington and Richmond for the protection of the 
 
 261 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 capitol. General Halleck called General John Pope from the 
 West, with the approval of the President, to take command of 
 the Army of Virginia, although he was out-ranked by both 
 McDowell and Freemont. General Freemont, unwilling to 
 serve under Pope, promptly resigned his command. When 
 General Pope took command he addressed a proclamation to 
 the Army of Virginia in which he expressed his contempt for 
 certain phrases he found much in vogue, such as "bases of 
 supplies" and "lines of retreat" phrases which he enjoined his 
 army to discard, as unworthy of soldiers destined to follow the 
 leadership of one "who came from the West and had never 
 seen anything but the backs of his enemies." 
 
 This bombastic and arrogant nonsense was a satire pointed 
 at General McClellan. Alas for Pope ! Less than two months 
 after he took command the enemy saw his back and his heels 
 as well. He was shelved to the command of an unimportant 
 department in the West and cut no further figure in the war. 
 The Northern papers made much of him and his proclamation, 
 but the soldiers had a clearer insight into his character and 
 ability as the commander of a great army. He became known 
 among them by the sobriquet of "Headquarters in the Saddle." 
 
 The Fifth Army Corps was the First to leave Harrison's 
 Landing. On the afternoon of the fourteenth of August 
 Sykes's division received orders to strike their tents and pre- 
 pare to march to Newport News, Virginia. We left our camp 
 about six o'clock in the evening and marched all night, resting 
 only about two hours at midnight. Some time during the fore- 
 noon of the next day we reached the Chickahominy, and cross- 
 ing it by a pontoon bridge about a thousand feet long, went into 
 bivouac. The following morning we started again at daybreak, 
 and passing through Williamsburg and Yorktown, we reached 
 Newport News on the fourth day, the eighteenth, remaining 
 there for two days awaiting transportation. There we had salt 
 water bathing in the James river, which was very refreshing 
 after the hot and dusty march. We were hurried along and 
 made rather long marches. I had not recovered my full 
 strength after my illness at Harrison's Landing, but I managed 
 
 262 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 to keep up by lightening my burden. I threw away my knap- 
 sack and part of my clothing, made a roll of the blanket and 
 shelter tent, wrapping up in it a change of underclothing and 
 socks, and slung the roll over my shoulder. I put on my new- 
 est shoes and threw the others away. All this made marching 
 easier for me. Many of my comrades did the same. 
 
 On August twentieth we embarked on a steamboat along 
 with other troops for Aquia Creek on the Potomac and had the 
 usual overcrowded and uncomfortable experience. We arrived 
 on the twenty-second and were a long time getting ashore by 
 tugs. There was a railroad to Fredericksburg, less than twenty 
 miles away, and we were tumbled into empty freight cars and 
 upon platform cars and taken to Falmouth Station, near 
 Fredericksburg, where we disembarked in the evening and 
 bivouacked. 
 
 Next day, after receiving some rations, we started our march 
 up the north bank of the Rappahannock in the direction of 
 Pope's army. The other corps of the Army of the Potomac 
 went up the Potomac river as far as Alexandria, which gave 
 them only half so long a march to join Pope, as the Fifth Corps 
 had had from Falmouth. General McClellan accompanied the 
 main part of the Army to Alexandria. 
 
 Our march up the Rappahannock and along the line of the 
 Orange and Alexandria railroad by the way of Bealton, Cat- 
 lett's and Bristoe Stations to Manassas was a severe one. The 
 heat was so excessive that a man in my company declared "the 
 sun must be in the hydraulics !" Parts of the country seemed 
 to be destitute of water, which caused us great suffering, and 
 many were overcome and dropped by the wayside. We did 
 not have the muddy roads of the Peninsula, but we had an 
 intolerable amount of dust which hung in great clouds over 
 the marching columns and betrayed the movements of the 
 opposing armies. As we neared Bristoe Station, where a 
 stretch of the railroad had been torn up by the Rebels, we 
 began to hear cannonading. 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-ninth we started at daybreak 
 for Centreville, passing Manassas Junction, where we saw the 
 
 263 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ruins of locomotives, cars and immense quantities of rations 
 and military stores totally destroyed by fire a few days before 
 when Jackson's army had slipped around the bewildered Gen- 
 eral Pope's right and got in his rear, between him and Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 We had only just passed Manassas when we were ordered 
 to face about and march in the direction from which we had 
 come on the Warrenton Pike towards Gainsville. Before 
 reaching there some of Longstreet's troops were encountered 
 about noon, concealed in the woods near the Manassas railroad. 
 We took up a position near Bethlehem Church, massed in the 
 rear of the First Division as a reserve. Later in the afternoon 
 very heavy firing was heard some miles away to our right, 
 where the battle of Groveton was being fought. We had a 
 strong force of skirmishers out ; so did the enemy. There was 
 much firing between them until dark and some movements as 
 though we were forming for an attack, with the object of 
 preventing Longstreet from sending reinforcements to Jackson 
 at Groveton, but nothing came of it and we remained in our 
 position until daybreak, August thirtieth. The last issue of 
 rations had been, I think, at Warrenton Junction; we were 
 nearly out, in fact had lived on half-rations for the last day. 
 During this night we received a small allowance of hard-tack 
 and nothing else. 
 
 On the morning of the thirtieth we marched by way of the 
 Warrenton Pike in the direction of yesterday's battle and took 
 up a position about noon near the center in a cornfield not far 
 from the Pike, my brigade forming the reserve in rear of the 
 First Brigade. We were soon under a heavy fire of shells 
 from the Rebel batteries which kept up with more or less vigor 
 until the middle of the afternoon, when the real battle com- 
 menced with General Butterfield's attack on the enemy, strongly 
 posted in a railroad cut towards the right. Historians have 
 described this bloody battle and how, about sundown, our army 
 was out-flanked and forced to retreat. It was about this time 
 that Sykes's regulars were ordered to retreat and did so in 
 good order towards the Henry house plateau, which command- 
 
 264 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ed the road by which the army was retreating in some disorder, 
 towards the stone bridge over Bull Run. Sykes's regulars 
 assisted by some volunteer regiments checked Longstreet's 
 pursuit. 
 
 Here for the first time on that day my brigade became 
 engaged with the enemy at the edge of some timber through 
 which they were advancing. For nearly an hour we held our 
 ground, delivering heavy volleys until we were out-flanked, 
 forced to retire, and the fight continued by other troops. 
 
 General Warren's Third Brigade, consisting of the Fifth and 
 Tenth New York, about one thousand strong, had earlier in 
 the evening, in an isolated position, sustained the first onslaught 
 of overwhelming numbers of Longstreet's troops. In less than 
 fifteen minutes this small brigade sustained a loss of more than 
 four hundred killed and wounded, the Duryee Zouaves alone 
 losing two hundred and ninety-seven men, a greater loss than 
 that of any other regiment in this battle. During the two days 
 my small regiment lost sixty-six killed and wounded and, 
 singular to relate, only one officer and one private were killed 
 outright; seven others, however, were missing and we did not 
 know what had become of them. The first sergeant of my 
 company, Rudolph Thieme, was among the missing, but no 
 one had seen him fall. A small detail from my regiment, 
 which under a flag of truce recovered Lieutenant Kidd's body, 
 failed to find that of the sergeant, who was an old soldier and 
 expected soon to be commissioned. The mystery of his dis- 
 appearance was never solved. 
 
 When darkness came upon us and the firing ceased, except 
 for a few shots here and there, the second battle of Bull Run 
 was over. We marched by way of the Pike to the Stone 
 Bridge, where we found an indescribable scene of confusion. 
 Ambulances, artillery, army wagons, sutlers, wounded soldiers 
 and stragglers were all crowding towards the narrow bridge, 
 colliding with organized bodies of marching troops and destroy- 
 ing their formation. Slowly and with great difficulty we 
 crossed and re-formed on the other side, taking up our march 
 to Centreville and keeping off the road as much as possible to 
 
 265 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 avoid the confusion there. To add to our misery a steady rain 
 had commenced after dark and kept up all night. The retreat 
 continued until daylight, when the bridge was blown up. We 
 reached Centreville about midnight when, tired and exhausted, 
 we lay on the wet ground and slept until morning. 
 
 Able writers and critics have pointed out the monumental 
 blunders of General Pope which nearly caused the destruction 
 of his army, and the advantageous opportunities he failed to 
 grasp, particularly where Lee divided his army by sending 
 Jackson to Manassas in his rear. They also show his vindict- 
 iveness towards the meritorious General Porter, who was 
 cashiered after the Antietam campaign, but established his 
 innocence after a struggle which lasted for many years and was 
 restored to the army. 
 
 During the active part of this campaign General McClellan 
 was detained, by order of General Halleck, at Alexandria and 
 ordered to forward his troops as fast as they arrived from 
 Harrison's Landing to join Pope's army. This he did and they 
 had all joined us in time to take part in the battles of Groveton 
 and the second Bull Run, except Franklin's and Sumner's corps, 
 who were still on the march. General McClellan then found 
 himself in the singular position of a commanding general 
 stripped of his army, with nothing but a few orderlies and 
 small camp guard. General Pope had sent a very favorably 
 colored report of the second Battle of Bull Run to General 
 Halleck; but the next day Colonel J. C. Kelton, A. A. G., 
 was sent from the War Department to Pope's army, and upon 
 his return on September second reported the true condition of 
 affairs, which alarmed the President and Cabinet and terrified 
 the city of Washington. Pope's army was ordered to retreat 
 immediately within the fortifications of Washington for the 
 protection of the city. The administration now turned toward 
 McClellan again and placed him in command of the defenses of 
 Washington and the troops of Pope's defeated army as they 
 arrived within the fortifications. 
 
 The morning after the battle, August thirty-first, during a 
 cold rain, we were marched within the old Confederate works 
 
 266 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 at Centreville and encamped there. The day was quiet, but 
 toward night there was a rumor that a part of the Rebel army 
 was on the move to turn our right and intersperse between us 
 and Washington. Next morning two army corps were ordered 
 to march in the direction of Chantilly, where that afternoon a 
 severe battle was fought which resulted in a victory for the 
 Union arms. Among our losses was the daring one-armed 
 General Kearney, one of the bravest officers in our army. 
 
 It was a race now to see which army would get to Washing- 
 ton first. We could hear the firing at Chantilly and, while it 
 was still going on the Fifth Corps received orders to proceed 
 to Fairfax Court House in a hurry. After a weary night- 
 march we arrived there on the morning of September second 
 and went into bivouac. The following morning we resumed 
 our march, taking the road towards Washington. The enemy 
 was close on our flank and there was some skirmishing just 
 after leaving Fairfax Court House. Late in the afternoon we 
 saw the dome of the Capitol and kept on, weary with the long 
 march, until after dark, when during a halt, we heard loud 
 cheering in front. Soon word was passed along that General 
 McClellan had come out to meet us, and the cheering was taken 
 up by the entire corps. The General had only a very small 
 escort of soldiers and one officer with him, but his presence 
 cheered us and revived our depressed spirits. We felt that 
 Washington was safe. 
 
 The Fifth Corps encamped for several days on Hall's Hill. 
 While at this camp the skeleton battalions of the Second and 
 Tenth United States Infantry were consolidated under the 
 command of Captain Poland of the Second Infantry, the rank- 
 ing officer, and henceforth we were designated as the Battalion 
 of the Second and Tenth Infantry; company formations were 
 not interfered with. 
 
 With the arrival of the army within the defenses of Wash- 
 ington the enemy disappeared and on the fifth of September 
 were reported to be crossing the Potomac into Maryland. The 
 cavalry of the Army of the Potomac was promptly started on 
 the march and quickly followed by the artillery and infantry. 
 
 267 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 The Fifth Corps left on the evening of the sixth and crossed 
 the Potomac on the Chain Bridge, then marched by way of 
 Tennallytown, Rockville and Monocacy to Frederick City, 
 where we arrived the twelfth of September. The roads were 
 good, but very dusty ; the country was well cultivated and we 
 got some fruit and plenty of green corn on the way, roasting 
 the ears at our camp-fires. 
 
 Next day our march was across the mountains to the Middle- 
 town Valley, where we encamped near the foot of South 
 Mountain. We could hear the guns at Harper's Ferry, which 
 was besieged by Stonewall Jackson. On the afternoon and 
 evening of the fourteenth General Reno had a battle at Turner's 
 Pass on South Mountain, part of which was visible from our 
 camps. The Rebels were driven from the mountain and re- 
 treated toward Sharpsburg during the night. General Reno 
 was killed near the close of this action. 
 
 On the morning of the fifteenth we crossed the Blue Ridge 
 by the road across South Mountain leading to Sharpsburg, 
 passing a part of the battlefield, where we saw a number of 
 dead Confederates beside the road and in the fields where they 
 had fallen the evening before. In descending the western slope 
 of the South Mountain we had some fine views of the valley of 
 the Antietam, the great fields of grain, orchards and farm- 
 houses a beautiful picture of peace and plenty, soon to be 
 destroyed by the horrors of war. Our march was toward the 
 Central Bridge over the Antietam on the pike leading to 
 Sharpsburg, where we took up a position on the left of the 
 road. The Rebels had batteries on the opposite side of the 
 Antietam on high ground, which opened on us as soon as they 
 saw us approaching; but they did us no damage and we were 
 soon under cover where their fire was returned by two of our 
 batteries. 
 
 The great Battle of Antietam, in which more than one hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand men and some hundreds of pieces of 
 artillery were engaged on the sixteenth and seventeenth days of 
 September, is well described in histories and was decidedly a 
 Union victory. General McClellan is severely criticized for 
 
 268 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 allowing Lee and his army to escape across the Potomac on 
 the night of the eighteenth, and General Burnside for dilly- 
 dallying and delaying his attack on bridge number three, where 
 he could not see his glorious opportunity. 
 
 Porter's Fifth Army Corps held an important position in the 
 center of the line covering the reserve artillery and wagon- 
 trains on the east bank of the Antietam. It was here, in the 
 center, that General McClellan was most anxious that his line 
 should not be broken, and he relied on General Porter for that. 
 The Fifth Corps was not engaged as a body in this battle, but 
 some brigades were detached from it at various times to rein- 
 force other parts of the field. We were much exposed to the 
 enemy's artillery fire and sharp-shooters at times. On the 
 second day of the battle my battalion, the Second and Tenth, 
 were ordered to cross the bridge about four P. M. to protect 
 some light batteries on the opposite side of the Antietam. We 
 deployed as skirmishers to the left of the road and while pass- 
 ing over a ridge were fired at by the Rebel sharp-shooters and 
 by a battery with canister shot. We sustained considerable 
 loss but kept on as far as a fence, where we halted and com- 
 menced a fire which soon caused the enemy's cannoneers to 
 leave their guns; and although soon reinforced by a part of 
 the First Brigade, we were not considered strong enough to 
 charge and take this battery and were ordered by one of Gen- 
 eral Sykes's aides-de-camp to withdraw from our dangerous 
 position to a place of cover, where we remained until sun-down 
 and then re-crossed the bridge and returned to our former 
 position. Our small battalion lost about fifty of its number, 
 killed and wounded, in this engagement. 
 
 The day after the battle we remained quietly in our position. 
 The Rebels, under flags of truce, were picking up their 
 wounded and burying some of their dead, while squads from 
 our army performed the same sad duties. 
 
 At daybreak on the morning of the nineteenth it was dis- 
 covered that the enemy had departed during the night and the 
 last of their rear guard was then crossing the Potomac at 
 Shepherdstown ford. General Porter's Corps was ordered to 
 
 269 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the ford. On the way we passed through a part of the battle- 
 field, which was still strewn with Rebel corpses. Most of them 
 had turned so black that they looked almost like negroes and 
 their heads and bodies had swollen to an enormous size. It 
 was a horrible sight. We passed through the town of Sharps- 
 burg and beyond that through some of the deserted Rebel 
 camps, where fires were still burning and there was every 
 evidence of hasty departure. 
 
 When we approached the ford there was much artillery 
 firing from Rebel batteries posted on the hills on the other side 
 of the Potomac, which was replied to by some of our batteries. 
 Sharp-shooters were posted at the river-bank and canal, firing 
 at the enemy opposite. Towards evening a regiment of the First 
 Division and the sharp-shooters crossed the river by fording 
 and found a lodgement on the other side, capturing a few guns. 
 
 Early on the morning of the twentieth our brigade and the 
 Fifth New York of the Third Brigade were ordered to ford 
 the river and make a reconnaissance on the Charlestown road. 
 General Sykes himself accompanied the brigade. We deployed 
 as skirmishers, advanced about a mile and halted in some 
 woods, when it was discovered that a large force of the enemy 
 was rapidly approaching with artillery. General Sykes ordered 
 the brigade to fall back slowly to the bluffs on the river-bank. 
 In the meantime Barnes's Brigade of the First Division of the 
 Fifth Corps had also crossed the river to go to Shepherds- 
 town, but General Sykes ordered them to take a position on the 
 heights near where they had crossed, to our right, where their 
 skirmishers soon became engaged with the approaching enemy 
 and brought on a spirited engagement. General Sykes, who 
 informed General Porter of the large force opposed to his two 
 small brigades, was ordered immediately to recross all the 
 troops. This we were enabled to do in good order by the aid 
 of a number of our batteries, posted on the heights on the 
 Maryland side. These batteries delivered a destructive fire 
 over our heads which kept the enemy from the river-bank, or 
 it would have gone hard with us while fording the river. Before 
 night all our troops had recrossed the Potomac. 
 
 270 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 This engagement at Shepherdstown ended the Maryland 
 campaign. The loss on our side was about five hundred and, 
 with the exception of nineteen, was all in General Barnes's 
 brigade. The loss in my battalion was one killed and two 
 wounded. Later it was learned that the retreating foe had 
 turned back nine brigades of infantry with artillery under 
 Generals Early and Hill to oppose us at Shepherdstown. No 
 doubt they over-estimated our numbers and thought we were 
 an army corps instead of two weak brigades. We then realized 
 what great peril we had been in. 
 
 A daring act was performed by First Sergeant Daniel W. 
 Burke of Company B, as we re-crossed the Potomac. He 
 voluntarily attempted to spike some abandoned Rebel guns near 
 the shore under a withering fire from the enemy. He received 
 a commission soon after and was retired in 1899 as a brigadier- 
 general and medal-of -honor man. 
 
 The next day we established a permanent camp in some 
 woods near Sharpsburg, where we remained for more than six 
 weeks and received a detachment of recruits during our stay, 
 which somewhat replenished our skeleton companies. Four 
 companies of the Seventh Infantry also joined our brigade at 
 this place. They were a part of the troops surrendered in 
 Texas, who were paroled at the time and had since been ex- 
 changed. 
 
 A few days after we had settled down to our regular camp 
 duties I was much surprised when the first sergeant of my 
 company informed me that I had been detailed to report to 
 Lieutenant Hawkins as brigade commissary sergeant. This 
 was promotion to a post usually filled by an older and more 
 experienced soldier. My comrades congratulated me and said 
 I was in luck to get that position one that was greatly desired. 
 I was not much elated over it, however, and seriously con- 
 sidered whether I should not ask to be excused and remain 
 with my company. 
 
 By this time the sergeant major and half a dozen of the 
 first sergeants of the companies had received commissions as 
 
 271 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 second lieutenants, and without exception they made good 
 officers and gave the regiment a better character and standing 
 than the inexperienced civilians that had been inflicted upon 
 us at the beginning of the war, many of whom we had since 
 got rid of. All of these sergeants were older than I and had 
 been longer in the service; I had only just turned twenty-one 
 and looked much younger. With the exceptions of our two 
 musicians, I was the youngest soldier in the company, until 
 some recruits joined us a while later. I had learned from the 
 sergeant major that my name had been mentioned in the 
 regimental report for good conduct in battle, along with those 
 of some other non-commissioned officers. 
 
 I had spoken to a couple of our officers, who were most 
 friendly to me, about applying for a commission, and was ad- 
 vised to wait until I should be first sergeant of a company. 
 This seemed a long way off, as I was only the third sergeant 
 of the company at the time. I realized that if I left the 
 company on special duty, to act as brigade commis- 
 sary sergeant, the man who remained in the ranks would 
 get the preference in promotion, other reasons being 
 equal. On the other hand the position offered many advan- 
 tages and was less arduous than that of a company officer. No 
 more marching I would have a horse to ride ; no more guard 
 and picket duties; no more standing in ranks to be fired at 
 for hours by the enemy. The worst that had befallen the army 
 trains thus far had been guerrilla attacks and captures by the 
 enemy. So far I had been so lucky as to escape without a 
 scratch, but I had seen many of my comrades fall in battle 
 while in the ranks, and it might be my turn in the very next 
 engagement. I decided to hold the position and left my com- 
 pany to report to the acting commissary officer at brigade 
 headquarters. There was no extra pay attached to the position. 
 I was carried on the company's muster rolls as "absent on 
 special duty." 
 
 First Lieutenant Hamilton S. Hawkins of the Sixth United 
 States Infantry was acting as the brigade commissary and 
 quarter-master. He was a West Point graduate and a gentle- 
 
 272 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 man one of the finest officers I met in the service. He was 
 very dignified, honorable and just, kind and pleasant with his 
 inferiors in rank one of Nature's noblemen. In after years 
 he was called the "Sir Henry Havelock" of the American 
 Army. In the Spanish War he was a major-general of volun- 
 teers and commanded the division that captured San Juan Hill. 
 He retired in 1898 as a brigadier-general of the United States 
 Army, and at his death (which occurred recently) he was the 
 governor of the Soldiers' Home in Washington, D. C. 
 
 With Lieutenant Hawkins, as his chief assistant, was John 
 W. Clous, quarter-master sergeant of the Sixth United States 
 Infantry, who acted in the double capacity of brigade quarter- 
 master and commissary sergeant. It was to relieve him of the 
 duties of the latter that I was detailed. Sergeant Clous was a 
 remarkable man and had a most honorable and successful 
 career in the army. He was well educated a student he had 
 served on the frontiers and was my senior by eight or ten years. 
 He became a second lieutenant in December, 1862; and after 
 the war he made a study of military law and became the pro- 
 fessor of law, with the rank of lieutenant colonel, at the 
 Military Academy at West Point. At the close of the Spanish 
 War he was a brigadier-general and judge advocate of the 
 commission which settled the affairs between the United States 
 and Cuba. He retired as a brigadier-general in 1901 and died 
 a few years ago. Much to my regret, I never had the oppor- 
 tunity of meeting either of these men after I left the army. 
 
 When I entered upon my new duties I found that I had 
 much to learn, but I had a very capable instructor in Sergeant 
 Clous. He was thoroughly familiar with all the rules and regu- 
 lations of the commissary department and the many forms for 
 accounts and reports which the admirable Government method 
 of accounting for everything demanded. We had a wall tent 
 which we used for an office when in a permanent camp, furn- 
 ished with two small field desks and a folding table. When 
 in camp Sergeant Clous and I slept in this tent; on the march 
 we slept under the clear skies or in a wagon when it rained. 
 Our little detachment included a clerk and three men to load 
 
 273 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and unload wagons and assist in issuing rations. One of these 
 men was also the butcher who slaughtered the beef cattle when 
 we had any, killing the cattle with a rifle and dressing the 
 carcass. Another did the cooking for our mess and the third 
 man took care of Sergeant Clous's horse and mine, besides his 
 other duties. These men were all soldiers detailed for special 
 duties, temporarily absent from their companies and, like my- 
 self, liable to be ordered back to duty in the ranks at any time. 
 There was also a wagon-master who was a civilian, as were 
 also most of the teamsters ; he had charge of our supply train 
 under orders from the commissary officer. When in camp 
 Lieutenant Hawkins, who had a private servant, generally 
 stayed at brigade headquarters, but while at Sharpsburg he 
 had his tent for a time in a grove along with the officers of his 
 regiment. I remember that his mother visited him there and 
 remained for some days. She was a very fine, motherly lady 
 who adored her son. 
 
 While the army was at Sharpsburg all of its supplies had to 
 be hauled from Hagerstown, Maryland, about twenty miles 
 away, which was the nearest railroad depot. There was a 
 good turn-pike road all the way from Sharpsburg, which 
 passed through the recent battle-field, on which the Dunkard 
 church was a conspicuous mark. It was one of my duties to 
 draw supplies at Hagerstown once a week or oftener. I was 
 provided with the necessary requisitions, signed by Lieutenant 
 Hawkins and countersigned by the brigade commander, given 
 charge of as many wagons as were required and accompanied 
 by the wagon-master. We generally made an early morning 
 start so as to arrive in Hagerstown early in the afternoon, load- 
 ing the wagons on the same day, then going into camp for the 
 night, and returning to Sharpsburg the following day. This 
 could not always be done, as the place was crowded with 
 army wagons on the same business and it was a case of first 
 come, first served. I always rode on ahead to get my requisi- 
 tion on file, and if we could not be attended to on that day, I 
 rode back to meet my train and park them in some field on the 
 outskirts of the town. It often took two days and a night to 
 make the trip, sometimes more. 
 
 274 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 On one occasion, after the train had been parked, it became 
 necessary for me to return to the town, and as my horse had 
 cast a shoe, I had my saddle put on one of the teamster's riding 
 mules. It was my first experience in riding a mule. I got 
 along well enough for a short distance until I came to the ford 
 of a small stream, where we were in the habit of watering our 
 animals. I stopped to let the mule drink and then started to 
 cross, but he was determined to go back to the train. I next 
 tried to cross an adjoining bridge with the same result. I 
 coaxed him, I dismounted and tried to lead him, I remounted 
 and did all that could be done to a mule with a pair of spurs 
 and strong language, much to the amusement of some soldier 
 spectators, who advised me to build a fire under him. I could 
 not make him go to Hagerstown, but he willingly went back to 
 camp, to my discomfiture, and I had to borrow the wagon- 
 master's horse to make the trip. 
 
 We were paid while in the Sharpsburg camp and I was able 
 to buy fresh bread and other things for our mess while in town. 
 The bread tasted mighty good after being on hard- tack for six 
 months. I also regaled myself a few times with a real dinner 
 in a tavern at the extravagant price of twenty-five cents. 
 Nearly all through October the weather was delightful and I 
 enjoyed the trips to town immensely; the days were warm, but 
 the nights began to be cool enough for camp-fires. 
 
 President Lincoln visited the army on the first of October 
 and remained with General McClellan for several days. Near 
 the middle of October General Stuart of the Confederate Army 
 made a swift raid with two thousand cavalry-men and a battery 
 of horse artillery into Pennsylvania and around the Army of 
 the Potomac, as he had done on the Peninsula. He was almost 
 unopposed, as our cavalry never equal to that of the Con- 
 federates in number was at this time broken down, scattered 
 and so reduced in numbers by the late campaign that not a 
 thousand serviceable horses could be mounted. After Stuart's 
 raid the coad to Hagerstown was patroled by cavalry. 
 
 When not on the road I was kept busy in camp issuing 
 rations and making up accounts. At this time the system was 
 
 275 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 for the brigade commissary to issue rations to companies on 
 the requisition of the officer commanding the company, ap- 
 proved by the commander of the regiment. Companies sub- 
 divided their rations among themselves. While in camp issues 
 of rations were made about once a week, except fresh meat, 
 which was issued on days when cattle was slaughtered. 
 
 Provisions for officers and their servants, according to regu- 
 lations of the commissary department, could only be sold to 
 them for cash and on their certificate that they were for their 
 own use; for the Government sold commissary stores to offi- 
 cers at cost, less the cost of freight, but for their own use only. 
 The rule of selling for cash only could not be enforced strictly 
 in war times, but the commissary officer made himself liable 
 for any credit he chose to extend. Sales to officers were made 
 during fixed hours of the morning; money received and 
 vouchers for same were turned over to the commissary officer 
 daily. As commissary sergeant I soon found that I was really 
 gaining the experience of a manager for a large grocery firm. 
 
 Issues of whiskey to troops, one gill per day, were only made 
 on the order of the brigade commander in cases of excessive 
 fatigue or severe exposure. Officers could purchase all they 
 wanted, if they stated in their written orders to the commissary 
 that it was for their own use and signed their names. Some 
 good-natured officers who hardly drank at all, seemed to buy 
 much whiskey, for they frequently gave one of their company 
 sergeants an order which read something like this: "Let the 
 bearer have one canteen full of whiskey for my use." Others 
 more scrupulous omitted the words "for my use," knowing the 
 order would not be filled in that case; but I suspect that in 
 some cases the soldier added the necessary words to the order 
 which he himself had written after the unsuspecting officer 
 had signed it. 
 
 Sometimes stores became damaged or were received in a 
 damaged condition, when a board of survey was appointed by 
 the commanding officer to ascertain the amount of damage, for 
 the commissary officer was virtually obliged to account for 
 every cracker he received. There seemed to be no end to the 
 
 276 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 many accounts we had to keep and reports to make out, but 
 it was an instructive business experience for me. 
 
 On the sixth of October General McClellan received an 
 order from Washington to cross the Potomac and give battle 
 to the enemy or drive him South while the roads were good. 
 At this time the army was in no condition to move for want of 
 supplies which arrived very tardily, and it was not until the 
 end of October, when bad weather had set in, that the first part 
 of the troops re-crossed the Potomac. During all this time 
 the authorities at Washington and the Northern papers were 
 accusing McClellan of being dilatory and demanding his re- 
 moval. The Fifth Army Corps left Sharpsburg on the thirtieth 
 and crossed the Potomac next day at Harper's Ferry, while the 
 train crossed on a pontoon bridge at Berlin, some distance 
 further south. Riding a horse was a very agreeable change 
 from marching in the ranks and carrying a heavy load. All I 
 carried now on my person was a large Colt's revolver. To my 
 McClellan saddle was strapped an overcoat and a canteen of 
 water, while the saddle-bags held some cooked meat and 
 crackers and a pipe and tobacco. 
 
 The roads were fairly good on the start until we neared the 
 Blue Ridge Mountains. Being again in the enemy's country, 
 the train had a guard of some infantry and a small detachment 
 of cavalry. The chief quarter-master of the Fifth Army 
 Corps was in charge of our train and directed its movements. 
 
 On November second we rejoined our brigade at the small 
 .town of Snickersville. That evening Sykes's division was 
 ordered to occupy Snicker's Gap and make a reconnaissance to 
 Snicker's Ferry on the Shenandoah. I was ordered to follow 
 the troops with a couple of wagons and issue some rations to 
 my brigade. The ascent to the top of the Gap where the troops 
 rested for the night was steep and wearisome; the night was 
 dark and cold, and when we arrived on the mountain-top, late, 
 a strong wind was blowing. I snatched a little sleep in one of 
 the wagons and issued the rations at daylight. 
 
 Part of the divison descended the Gap towards the Shen- 
 andoah in the morning but did not cross, and during the day an 
 
 277 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 artillery engagement occurred between some of the Rebels on 
 the opposite side of the river and the Sixth and fourteenth 
 United States Infantry. After taking a long look at the beau- 
 tiful and fertile valley of the Shenandoah at our feet I started 
 back to our camp. On the way down the mountain we had a 
 mishap; one of the teamsters struck a boulder and broke a 
 wheel, which caused delay and we were obliged to cut down a 
 small tree and rig up a drag to get the wagon back to the camp. 
 
 We remained in camp until Sykes's division was withdrawn 
 from Snicker's Gap and resumed our march east of the Blue 
 Ridge by way of White Plains and New Baltimore to Warren- 
 ton, where we arrived on the ninth of November. On our 
 march to White Plains we had a wet snow nearly all day, which 
 made the roads bad. At Warrenton we learned that General 
 McClellan had been relieved from the command of the Army of 
 the Potomac and Major General Ambrose E. Burnside placed 
 in command. General McClellan's enemies in the Cabinet, to- 
 gether with Halleck, the bureaucratic general, had finally pre- 
 vailed in their schemes to cause the President to relieve him. 
 The following day, the tenth, that part of the army which was 
 at Warrenton was drawn up along the turnpike and General 
 McClellan's farewell address was read to them; then came 
 hearty cheering, as the General rode down between the lines of 
 the troops, bidding them farewell. The army was sad over the 
 loss of a commander who had their affection and confidence. 
 
 Two days later the Fifth Corps had another sad parting scene 
 when their old commander, Major General Fitz-John Porter, 
 was relieved and ordered to report at Washington. Major 
 General Joseph Hooker was now placed in command of the 
 corps. 
 
 General Burnside did not seek nor did he wish to take the 
 command of the Army of the Potomac, frankly declaring him- 
 self inadequate for that exalted position. In this he was 
 prophetic, and in a month proved it to the mournful knowledge 
 of the army and the entire country. 
 
 We remained about a week at Warrenton. General Burn- 
 side formed the six corps of the army into what were to be 
 
 278 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 called the Right, Center and Left Grand Divisions, commanded 
 respectively by Generals Sumner, Hooker and Franklin. The 
 Right Grand Division was composed of the Second and Ninth 
 Corps ; the Center of the Third and Fifth, and the Left of the 
 First and Sixth Corps, General Hooker being selected, as I 
 have mentioned, as one of the Grand Division commanders. 
 General Daniel Butterfield was appointed to command the Fifth 
 Army Corps, which Hooker had commanded only for a few 
 days. 
 
 We left Warrenton on the seventeenth and went by way of 
 Warrenton Junction and Hartwood Church to the vicinity of 
 Falmouth, near Fredericksburg, and parked the Fifth Corps 
 train, establishing a camp near the Henry house on the twenty- 
 third of November. This march was a very severe one, as we 
 had a cold rain nearly every day and the roads were execrable. 
 Wagons were stalled in the mud, teams had to be doubled to 
 pull them out, the road was blockaded for hours at a time, and 
 it was very late at night when we caught up with the troops, 
 who were in bivouac long before our arrival. 
 
 It soon became very cold and we experienced the rigors of a 
 winter campaign. The soldiers built little log huts and shacks, 
 roofed them with their shelter tents, and built earth and stone 
 fireplaces, the chimneys terminating in a flour or pork barrel 
 which often caught fire. For an office and a place to sleep I 
 had a wall tent with a camp stove in it. We fixed up a kitchen 
 and, with the aid of tarpaulins, erected a few store-houses for 
 the protection of the commissary stores, which were guarded 
 by a sentinel. The railroad from Aquia Creek on the Potomac 
 was quickly repaired and we drew our supplies at a railroad 
 switch about two miles from the camp. 
 
 On evenings when I was at leisure I often visited my regi- 
 ment to talk with my comrades. Some sat around camp-fires 
 built in the company streets, others played cards in their little 
 huts. Tricks were often played upon the card-players, such 
 as covering the barrel chimney with a gunny-bag and smoking 
 them out; or some more mischievous man would throw per- 
 cussion caps down the chimney, or a few paper cartridges, 
 
 279 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 which scattered their fire and broke up the game for a while. 
 On some days when three or four inches of snow had fallen and 
 then melted to a soft slush, the soldiers were in misery ; and at 
 other times they suffered from cold, which was very severe for 
 that latitude. 
 
 As General Burnside had determined to cross the Rappa- 
 hannock and attack the enemy at Fredericksburg, I was ordered 
 on the tenth of December to issue five days' marching rations 
 to the brigade and then to load all stores into the wagons and 
 be ready to leave camp when ordered. On the morning of the 
 eleventh, before daybreak we heard the booming of cannon in 
 the direction of Fredericksburg, three miles away, where the 
 engineer troops were preparing to lay pontoon bridges across 
 the river. Shortly after daylight the Fifth Corps began its 
 march towards the river and the train followed the troops. On 
 our arrival at the river-bank the corps and train were massed 
 behind the batteries on Stafford Heights, which overlooked the 
 river, the town and much of the country beyond, although a 
 heavy fog enveloped the town during the early morning hours 
 and hid it from view. The engineers, engaged in laying the 
 pontoons, were opposed by such a destructive fire from the 
 Rebel sharp-shooters concealed in the houses and in rifle-pits 
 on the opposite side of the river that they were obliged to 
 cease operations and retire to cover, although some troops on 
 our side of the river kept firing on the sharp-shooters. 
 
 About ten o'clock General Burnside ordered the one hundred 
 and forty-seven guns on Stafford Heights to shell the town, 
 which was done for nearly two hours. The noise was terrific. 
 During this bombardment I made my way to the front, along- 
 side of one of our batteries, where I had a good view of the 
 effect of our terrible fire on the city about a mile away, until 
 the smoke from bursting shells and burning buildings obscured 
 the view. The Rebel batteries on the heights beyond the town 
 made little attempt to reply to our fire ; only a few long-range 
 guns could reach us, and they did little damage in my vicinity. 
 When our bombardment ceased it was found that it had failed 
 to dislodge the sharp-shooters, as our guns could not be de- 
 
 280 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 pressed enough for the shells to hit the houses on the river- 
 bank. 
 
 It was after the shelling ceased that the Nineteenth Massa- 
 chusetts and the Seventh Michigan regiments, which were at 
 the river-front, volunteered to cross the river in pontoon boats 
 and drive away the sharp-shooters. This they did in gallant 
 style, under fire. Two bridges were completed at four thirty 
 P. M. and troops began to cross, continuing all night and the 
 following day. Sykes's division was held in reserve and did 
 not cross until the afternoon of the thirteenth. Very few 
 wagons were sent over besides ammunition wagons. 
 
 Lieutenant Hawkins sent me with a written message to 
 brigade headquarters about sundown on the same day. I went 
 on foot, past the Lacey house (which was Burnside's head- 
 quarters during the battle and was also used as a hospital) 
 down the hill to the river and across a pontoon bridge. I found 
 my brigade halted in one of the streets near the edge of the 
 town, preparing to march out and relieve some of the troops 
 on the front line. I delivered my letter to Major Andrews, 
 the brigade commander, who returned the envelope to me 
 marked in pencil with his name and time of delivery, as was 
 customary. 
 
 On my way back to the pontoon bridge I had time to say a 
 few words to my comrades in the regiment as I passed them. 
 The streets were dark, but there was light enough to distinguish 
 the effects of the bombardment and the burnt houses of two 
 days before. I walked in the middle of the street while passing 
 through some of the residence blocks, for the brick side- 
 walks were littered with chairs, sofas, bedding and all manner 
 of household goods from the looted houses, which had been 
 thrown out by some of our soldiers who had bivouacked in the 
 street the night before. Some of the stragglers were still in 
 the houses; in one of them I heard some soldiers playing a 
 piano. We had been told that a number of women and children 
 had remained in town, hiding in cellars, but I saw none of them, 
 although I did see a number of corpses lying about on the side- 
 walks and in the streets, and wounded soldiers making their 
 
 281 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 way to hospitals which had been established in the public build- 
 ings and many of the private houses. Nearer the river business 
 buildings and stores had been looted and the contents scattered 
 over the street. In passing through one of these streets I 
 picked up a book as a souvenir and when I examined it later on 
 in camp I found the name of Alexander H. Stevens written in 
 it. He was the vice-president of the Confederacy. At the 
 bridge I was stopped by the guard and was obliged to explain 
 my business to the officer in command and exhibit my envelope 
 before being allowed to re-pass the river. 
 
 The story of the Battle of Fredericksburg covers the saddest 
 pages in the history of the war. From it we learn how Burn- 
 side planned this battle, then lost his head and followed no 
 particular plan; how he stubbornly hurled division after 
 division in a front attack on the impregnable position on 
 Marye's Heights against the advice of his corps commanders ; 
 how thousands were sacrificed in this bloody and most useless 
 slaughter of the war; the indescribable sufferings of the 
 wounded to whom no help could be extended, many of whom 
 were frozen during the winter nights. The rank and file them- 
 selves knew the hopelessness of the attack, and yet bravely 
 made three more charges after the first had been nearly anni- 
 hilated. 
 
 Sykes's division was not called upon to take part in the direct 
 assault, but on the night of the thirteenth took up a position 
 which at daylight proved to be in a depression so shallow that 
 to raise a limb while lying down or to turn over, meant surely 
 to be wounded; and some who tried to get to the rear for 
 water immediately fell lifeless, pierced by many balls. No help 
 could be given to the wounded they were obliged to lie and 
 wait until night, when the command was enabled to creep away. 
 In our brigade eighty men were killed and wounded, mostly 
 while hugging the cold earth all that day and having no chance 
 to inflict any damage on the enemy except for a little while the 
 previous evening. 
 
 The army was skillfully withdrawn on the night of the 
 fifteenth during a violent rain-storm. The First Brigade of 
 
 282 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 General Sykes's regulars, and General Warren's Third Brigade 
 covered the retreat. When these troops had crossed some 
 time after daylight on the seventeenth, the engineers cast the 
 pontoons loose and none remained behind in the death-trap 
 into which Burnside had led the army, except the many 
 thousands of our wounded, their surgeons and some prisoners. 
 The army returned to its former locations and re-established 
 its camps. 
 
 The morale of the army was much impaired by this battle; 
 it had lost confidence in its commander which could never be 
 restored, and for the first time the Army of the Potomac might 
 be considered demoralized. 
 
 Christmas and New Year's passed, celebrated among the 
 volunteers by the reception of thousands of boxes containing 
 gifts and good things from their friends at home ; but few of 
 the regulars had any friends to remember them. The only 
 exception to the usual routine on those two days was the 
 issuing of a gill of whiskey by the commissary. 
 
 But we were not yet done with General Burnside. Once 
 more he tried to surprise the vigilant enemy. On January 
 sixteenth orders were issued to prepare to march on the 
 eighteenth, then were countermanded and it was not until 
 noon of the twentieth that the movement started which gave 
 the enemy plenty of time to learn of it through their spies 
 and be prepared for us. The weather had been severely cold 
 for some time and the roads frozen hard. We marched about 
 five miles towards the Rappahannock in a direction to bring 
 us above Fredericksburg at Banks' Ford, not fordable at this 
 time, and halted for the night, when rain began to fall and 
 continued throughout the night. 
 
 The next day when the movement was resumed, the storm 
 was worse. Soon the roads were blocked by artillery and 
 wagons stalled in quagmire; and pontoons were upset and 
 laid along the road, the condition of which was appalling. It 
 seemed as though the elements were determined that Burnside 
 should not again lead the army into disaster. Before night the 
 army was literally mud-bound and was unable to advance or 
 
 283 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 retreat ; large details of infantry tried to help pull the artillery 
 and wagons out of the clayey and sticky roads, ineffectually; 
 then thousands of men were put to work to fell trees to cordu- 
 roy and to build new stretches of road. Though the rain 
 ceased on the evening of the second day, men and animals con- 
 tinued to suffer greatly while trying to extricate the teams. 
 Some of the horses and mules that dropped exhausted in their 
 traces were drowned, so deep was the liquid mud in places. It 
 took four days of Herculean toil to enable the army to return 
 to their camps again. My train did not fare so badly as some 
 others, for we halted at the end of the first day's march and 
 remained there for three days. During that time we issued 
 some rations of hard bread and sugar and coffee to replace 
 what had been spoiled by the fierce rain in the men's haversacks. 
 As the wagons could not move to get to the brigade, details of 
 soldiers had to come and get these rations and carry them for 
 miles on their backs to their comrades. This was "Burnside's 
 Mud March," never to be forgotten by those who participated 
 in it. The Rebel pickets on the opposite side of the Rappa- 
 hannock in derision put up some large sign-boards marked, 
 "Burnside stuck in the mud !" "This way to Richmond !" 
 
 On January twenty-fifth, directly after our return from the 
 "Mud March," General Burnside resigned the command of 
 the Army of the Potomac and was later on given a command 
 in the West. There was no farewell parade, as there had been 
 for Generals McClellan and Porter a little more than two 
 months before. He had lost the confidence of the army and 
 the support of the Administration, and had drawn upon him- 
 self the censure of the press and the people for his useless 
 sacrifice of thousands of human lives. 
 
 General Joseph Hooker was now placed in command of the 
 army, "Fighting Joe Hooker," as the soldiers called him, an 
 officer fairly well liked in the army but not possessing the 
 entire confidence of the corps commanders as to his fitness 
 for the position. General Hooker made many changes. He 
 did away with the Grand Division formation. In the Fifth 
 Corps he made Major General George G. Meade the com- 
 
 284 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 mander, in place of Butterfield, who became his Chief of Staff. 
 We lost General Warren, the commander of our Third Bri- 
 gade; he became the Chief of Topographical Engineers on 
 General Hooker's staff. Distinctive corps badges were ordered 
 to be worn on the cap or hat of each officer and soldier ; head- 
 quarters of each brigade, division and corps had a standard 
 with a device the shape and color of which indicated at a 
 glance that part of the army they typified. The badge of the 
 Fifth Army Corps was in the shape of a Maltese cross of red 
 for the First Division, white for the second, blue for the third, 
 and green when there was a fourth division. These badges 
 proved to be very useful when arresting stragglers and re- 
 turning them to their command. They were made of cloth, 
 one and one-half inches square. We wore them to the end 
 of the war. 
 
 After the "Mud March" the soldiers rebuilt their huts and 
 made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circum- 
 stances; but the winter proved to be an unusually severe one 
 for Virginia. We had much snow and some very cold periods. 
 Many furloughs were granted, absentees returned, and re- 
 cruits arrived. The commissary issued full rations, often 
 including fresh bread which had been baked in Washington 
 and could be issued within two days. Some regiments drew 
 flour and baked their own bread. 
 
 After Fredericksburg there was much Confederate money 
 in some of the camps which had been plundered from the 
 banks and houses. It soon became widely distributed through 
 poker playing and it was no uncommon thing to find games for 
 large stakes going on in the tents at night. Expressions such 
 as "I'll see you, and raise you a hundred dollars !" were often 
 heard; some had thousands of dollars. Much of this money 
 was sent away as souvenirs, much of it was lost or destroyed ; 
 some, in a spirit of bravado, lit their pipes with ten-dollar 
 bills much to their vexation, when later on a man came along, 
 offering to pay three cents on the dollar for the Confederate 
 money. 
 
 While in this camp Sergeant Clous was promoted, becoming 
 
 285 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Second Lieutenant in the Sixth Infantry. He had instructed 
 me so well in my duties that by this time I was competent to get 
 along unassisted. I also lost Lieutenant Hawkins, who re- 
 mained Brigade Quartermaster but was replaced as Commis- 
 sary by First Lieutenant William F. Greeley of the Eleventh 
 United States Infantry, a civilian appointee from New Hamp- 
 shire. I got along very well with him and never had any 
 trouble while he remained Commissary Officer; my only ob- 
 jection to him was that in many difficult situations he let me 
 find my own way out of trouble without his advice or assist- 
 ance. At this time I traded my rather large gray horse for 
 a smaller dark bay, an intelligent and kindly-disposed animal 
 of whom I became very fond. I called him Tommy, and 
 among other tricks I taught him to push his head through the 
 opening of my tent and beg for a cracker or sugar. 
 
 The winter seemed long and dreary. In April reviews were 
 held and there was much drilling. By the middle of April 
 the Army of the Potomac had increased in numbers to about 
 one hundred and ten thousand infantry and artillery, and 
 about eleven thousand cavalry, and was once more ready and 
 eager for active service. 
 
 286 
 
PART XII. 
 CHANCELLORSVILLE, TO WINTER CAMP OF 1863-1864. 
 
 GENERAL HOOKER had conceived a corps formation 
 of all the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac, in- 
 stead of scattering it by details among the various 
 corps and divisions where its usefulness was frittered away; 
 and where it was generally out-numbered and beaten by the 
 enemy, who had consolidated their cavalry forces long before. 
 The spring campaign of 1863 was opened on April thirteenth 
 by the departure of General Stoneman with ten thousand 
 cavalry for the upper fords of the Rappahannock which he 
 was to cross, turning the enemy's left, destroying the railroads 
 and severing his connection with Richmond. But the cavalry 
 moved so cautiously, or leisurely, that they consumed three 
 days in marching twenty-five miles to the ford, where they 
 were overtaken by a heavy rain-storm, which swelled the river 
 so they could not cross and did not do so until the twenty- 
 ninth at Ely's Ford, along with infantry and artillery. Before 
 the crossing was accomplished all chance of a surprise was 
 lost and the large cavalry force was able to inflict only trifling 
 damage on the enemy's communications. 
 
 I was ordered to issue eight days' short rations to the 
 brigade, which the men were obliged to stow away in their 
 haversacks and knapsacks as best they could, besides some 
 extra rounds of ammunition in addition to that in their cart- 
 ridge boxes. Thus, loaded up more heavily than ever before, 
 without any wagon-train (except to carry ammunition and 
 forage) and without any regimental baggage or tents for 
 officers, the army began its march on April twenty-seventh. 
 General Hooker had divided the army into two parts: the 
 Fifth, Eleventh and Twelfth Corps marched to Chancellors- 
 
 287 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ville above Fredericksburg, by way of Kelly's Ford on the 
 Rappahannock and the Germanna and Ely's Ford on the 
 Rapidan river: the First and Sixth Corps were to cross the 
 Rappahannock below Fredericksburg; the Third Corps was 
 held in reserve, but a few days later was sent to Chancellors- 
 ville where General Hooker himself was in command. 
 
 The Fifth Corps supply train remained in camp about three 
 days longer and then was ordered to the United States Ford 
 at the Rappahannock, where the wagons were parked on the 
 high ground on the north side overlooking the river and 
 pontoon bridge. The opposite side of the river was a mass of 
 woods and tangled brush, a wilderness so far as eye could 
 reach. We could plainly hear the firing on the other side of 
 the river and sometimes observe the smoke of battle rising 
 above the trees. We heard Jackson's onslaught on the unfor- 
 tunate Eleventh Corps on May second, and General Sickles's 
 midnight battle. The fighting on Sunday, May third, seemed 
 near the river. The white canvas covers of our wagons must 
 have been visible to the Rebels, for one morning at daylight I 
 was awakened by shells from a section of a Rebel battery on 
 the south side of the river, crashing through our train and 
 exploding in the woods beyond. They struck only one of my 
 wagons before they were quickly silenced by one of our bat- 
 teries nearby. 
 
 On the morning of May fourth, I was ordered to issue a 
 day's rations to the brigade, and as no supply wagons were 
 allowed to cross the river, they were to be packed on mules. 
 Neither Lieutenant Greeley, the wagon-master, nor I 
 understood anything about packing mules. Fortunately 
 we discovered a few men among the teamsters who 
 had had some experience in that line; but we had no pack- 
 saddles. We used the teamsters' riding saddles, as far as they 
 went, and on the remainder of the mules we strapped blankets. 
 We selected three or four dozen of the most docile animals 
 from the train and loaded each one with two boxes of hard- 
 tack weighing about fifty pounds apiece, slung across his back, 
 one box on either side. Others we loaded with sacks of bacon 
 
 288 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 and bags of coffee and sugar. But the mules were as green at 
 the business as we were, and most of them resented their treat- 
 ment vigorously. When we succeeded in getting the load on 
 them, they tried to roll it off, which disarranged it so we had 
 to strap it on all over again, a man holding each mule to keep 
 him from lying down. 
 
 After hours of labor, ill temper and strong language, I was 
 at last ready to make a start with a detail from the train guard, 
 one man to lead each pair of mules and a few extra men 
 teamsters who best understood the packing. It was an odd- 
 looking procession, in front of which I rode down the hill 
 towards the pontoon bridge over the river, amidst the laughter 
 and mirth of the spectators, and I wished that Lieutenant 
 Greeley were leading the procession instead of me. Before I 
 had gone fifty yards trouble began again. Through bad pack- 
 ing, some of the loads shifted forward on the mules' necks 
 when going down hill ; some of the animals fell and would not 
 get up again with their loads on ; they seemed to prefer to roll 
 down the hill the rest of the way. All this delayed me very 
 much and it was well past noon when the troop had passed 
 the bridge and entered the woods on the other side. 
 
 I was instructed to follow the United States Ford road 
 until I came to an intersecting road about two miles or more 
 away, near which the Fifth Corps was posted. The road was 
 level and shady and I got along fairly well, until I reached a 
 short piece of road which skirted a ravine, lined with our 
 troops behind breast-works. Here my little train must have 
 been observed by the enemy, as the road was higher at this 
 point than the breastworks, for they opened on us with some 
 guns, before we had all passed this exposed spot. There was 
 confusion at once. The men leading the mules rushed into the 
 woods with them on the right side of the road. Only a few 
 shots were fired and no damage done ; but it took me more than 
 an hour to gather the train again and re-pack the mules that 
 had stripped their burden in going through the brushwood. 
 At last I found my command and issued the rations. It was 
 an hour or more until sun-down, and I deemed it best to wait 
 
 289 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 until dark to return, so as not run the gauntlet of the Rebel 
 battery again, and sought out my regiment, which was sta- 
 tioned parallel to the Ely Ford road behind log breastworks 
 which had been constructed the previous night. I learned from 
 my comrades that Captain S. S. Marsh was the only man killed 
 on May first and that twenty or more men had been wounded 
 on that and subsequent days. Just about sun-down I saw 
 General Hooker, followed by some of his staff, walking very 
 slowly down the road behind the breast-works. The General 
 had been injured the previous day (and could not ride a horse, 
 I believe) at the Chancellor house from a contusion caused by 
 a cannon shot which struck a veranda pillar near which he 
 had been standing. He was a fine and impressive figure, walk- 
 ing slowly, bare-headed, carrying his hat in his hand. Shortly 
 after, I returned with my train of mules and reached the camp 
 without further trouble. 
 
 The next day passed with little firing heard at the front. 
 On the following day, May fifth, all the supply trains were 
 ordered to return to their old camps near Fredericksburg. We 
 started on the return march in the afternoon. Towards eve- 
 ning a rain-storm came on, such as I have seldom witnessed ; 
 it seemed like a cloud-burst the rain came down in sheets. 
 In a few minutes my riding boots, which reached almost to my 
 knees, were filled with water and were over-flowing. The 
 storm still raged when we reached our camp. During this night 
 the army retreated across the Rappahannock, Sykes's regulars 
 again covering the retreat and being the last to cross about 
 eight o'clock next morning, unmolested by the enemy. The 
 pontoon bridges were immediately taken up under the men- 
 acing protection of our batteries on the hills, and for the 
 third time the army marched back to its old camps. 
 
 Historians agree that General Hooker's plan for an offensive 
 battle was masterly and skillful, and everything pointed to 
 success until, on the first day of May, after he had advanced 
 to within a few miles of Banks' Ford and had but two divisions 
 of the enemy confronting him, he suddenly decided to fight 
 a defensive battle and marched back to Chancellorsville to take 
 
 290 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 up an inferior and more perilous position with one of his flanks 
 in the air. From that time on, it is said, his conduct was faulty 
 and feeble, and the corps commanders despised his general- 
 ship. The army was forced to retreat, not because it was 
 beaten, as at Fredericksburg under Burnside it had not even 
 been all engaged at Chancellorsville but through the weak 
 and vascillating conduct of its commander. 
 
 Coincident with the return of the army from Chancellors- 
 ville, its numbers were considerably reduced by the expiration 
 of service of a number of men who had been enlisted for two 
 years only. Few recruits joined, enlistments in the Northern 
 states had fallen off alarmingly, and the enforcemnt of a draft 
 began to be talked of. This was the darkest period of the 
 rebellion for the Union, and an exultant one for the Confed- 
 eracy. Among the regiments which we lost in our Third Bri- 
 gade was the Fifth New York Volunteers, known as the 
 Duryee Zouaves. About two hundred of the men who 
 originally left New York in 1861 were now discharged and 
 had left for home, their departure much regretted by the regu- 
 lars, with whom they had served so long and so creditably. 
 General Sykes complimented them highly in the general order 
 for their departure. The remainder of this regiment, com- 
 posed of three-year men, was transferred to the One Hundred 
 and Forty-sixth New York Volunteers serving in the same 
 brigade, and the Fifth New York Volunteers ceased to exist. 
 
 The two armies confronted each other for weeks in their 
 former positions and the dreary camp life went on without 
 any interesting events. We continued watching each other, 
 until General Lee took the initiative on the third of June by 
 sending some of General Longstreet's Corps to Culpeper, pre- 
 paratory to his contemplated invasion of the North. Our 
 cavalry, much reduced in numbers and now commanded by 
 General Pleasonton, was ordered to make a reconnaissance in 
 that direction, and on June eighth had a successful encounter 
 with the enemy's cavalry at Brandy Station. 
 
 All became activity again in the Army of the Potomac. The 
 march began on the tenth, some corps leaving on different 
 
 291 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 days and by divers routes. The Fifth Corps left on the four- 
 teenth, following the familiar route by way of Bealton, 
 Warrenton and Manassas on the Orange and Alexandria Rail- 
 road, which we had traversed the previous year on our way 
 to reinforce Pope. Then we inclined toward the Blue Ridge, 
 where the Rebel Army was marching north through the 
 Shenandoah Valley, and at Aldie we began to hear firing, as our 
 cavalry skirmished with the enemy at the mountain gaps of the 
 valley. We passed Leesburg on our way to Edwards Ferry, 
 where we crossed the Potomac on a pontoon bridge into Mary- 
 land and arrived near Frederick City about the twenty-seventh 
 of June. The weather was very hot and we made long marches. 
 I issued rations several times while on the march and re-filled 
 the empty wagons at Manassas. The route of the train was 
 not always the same as that of the troops and we did some 
 night marching to make up for lost time at Manassas. 
 
 Some-one had given me a puppy, while in the winter camp 
 near Fredericksburg, which I had raised. He was then more 
 than six months old, and was much attached to me, following 
 me on the march. When tired, he would beg to be lifted up 
 and ride on the saddle in front of me. He hated to swim 
 across streams which we forded and insisted on crossing them 
 on horse-back. When we arrived at the Monocacy river, which 
 we forded a few miles from Frederick City, our supply train, 
 which had partly passed, was stopped to allow a battery of 
 our artillery to cross ahead of the balance of the train. The 
 river was several feet deep, had a swift current and a gravelly 
 bottom. I sat on my horse on the river-bank, watching the 
 battery cross, and listening to the crunching noise the heavy 
 wheels made in the stony river-bed, when something about our 
 train on the other side caused me to plunge in hastily and 
 cross without paying any attention to my dog, who had his 
 forepaws on my stirrup and was waiting to be pulled up. I 
 heard him bark behind me, and when I had crossed I turned 
 around and saw him swimming after me ; but the current car- 
 ried him toward one of the passing gun carriages. He dis- 
 appeared for a moment among the wheels and then came up 
 
 292 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 on the other side, emitting unearthly yells. He succeeded in 
 reaching the shore, and when he left the water I noticed that 
 all but a few inches of his tail had been pinched off. He gave 
 me a reproachful look and started up a road like a streak. I 
 galloped after him, calling and coaxing him, but he ran on 
 howling and paid no attention to me. After chasing him for 
 half a mile, he ran into a thicket where I could not follow. I 
 never saw him again. I felt very sorry to lose him. 
 
 We remained at Frederick City for two days, receiving and 
 issuing rations. There was some militia there, hastily called 
 out and badly armed some of them with shot-guns. The 
 Seventh Regiment National Guard of New York City was also 
 there for another thirty days' war experience, and was guard- 
 ing Government stores at the railroad depot. They looked very 
 jaunty in their neat and unsoiled uniforms, some of them 
 wearing paper collars, forming a striking contrast to the 
 bronzed and begrimed veterans of the Army of the Potomac, 
 from whom the Seventh had to endure much good-natured 
 chaffing in passing. 
 
 General Hooker, like McClellan in the Sharpsburg cam- 
 paign, requested the then useless garrison of ten thousand men 
 at Harper's Ferry to be added to his command in the pursuit 
 of Lee's army, and was refused by the autocratic General 
 Halleck, whose chief concern seemed to be the safety of 
 Washington ; and, finding himself generally thwarted in his 
 plans by the authorities in Washington, he requested to be 
 relieved of the command. On June twenty-eighth, while still at 
 Frederick City, Major General George G. Meade of the Fifth 
 Army Corps was appointed as the commander of the Army of 
 the Potomac. General Hooker was sent to the West, where he 
 gained some fame from his "battle above the clouds" at Look- 
 out Mountain. 
 
 General Meade was a man of personal bravery and experi- 
 ence, highly respected, but not very popular in the army. How- 
 ever, the Army of the Potomac was loyal to him, as it had been 
 to all its commanders, and the soldiers proved their loyalty by 
 tremendous sacrifices. It has been said that this fine army 
 
 293 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was always better than its commanders, of whom General 
 Meade was the fifth within less than two years. McDowell, Mc- 
 Clellan, Burnside and Hooker preceded him; Pope had com- 
 manded only a part of the army at the second Bull Run. I 
 have always held the opinion that, if the unfortunate Army of 
 the Potomac could have had General William T. Sherman for 
 its commander in its earlier days, the war would have termi- 
 nated successfully for the North much sooner, providing he 
 had been given a free hand to plan his own campaigns. 
 
 Although it was a delicate time to change commanders in 
 the presence of the enemy, not a ripple occurred to disturb the 
 harmony or movements of the army. General Meade was a 
 favorite with General Halleck and took it upon himself to 
 break up the garrison at Harper's Ferry, which had been 
 denied to Hooker, and no notice was taken of his action at 
 Washington. On June twenty-ninth the army, which had been 
 chiefly concentrated at Frederick, was put into motion on sev- 
 eral roads towards Gettysburg. 
 
 General M cade's promotion caused some changes in the Fifth 
 Army Corps; General Sykes became the corps commander; 
 General Romeyn B. Ay res commanded the Second (Regular) 
 Division ; Colonel Hannibal Day the First, and Colonel Sidney 
 Burbank the Second Brigade. The Third (Volunteer) Brigade 
 was in command of General Stephen H. Weed. All of these 
 commanders were good and experienced officers, who had 
 served in the army before the war. 
 
 The supply train of the Fifth Corps followed the troops as 
 far as Westminster, about twenty miles southeast of Gettys- 
 burg, where there was a branch railroad, connecting with the 
 main road from Baltimore to Harrisburg. An engagement 
 with Stuart's cavalry had taken place at Westminster on the 
 previous day, and some dead horses were still strewn along 
 the road and the streets of the town. The train was kept at 
 Westminster during the three days' battle at Gettysburg, it is 
 said, because General Meade intended to fall back to the strong 
 line of Pipe Creek, not far from Westminster, had he been 
 unsuccessful. On the third day of the battle we could hear 
 
 294 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 very plainly the firing of the two hundred and thirty guns, 
 which preceded General Pickett's famous charge that after- 
 noon. On the evening of the third of July the supply train 
 left Westminster and, after traveling all night, arrived at 
 Gettysburg on July fourth and halted in the rear of Little 
 Round Top, as near to the Fifth Corps as we could get. Here 
 I issued rations to our brigade and when that was completed 
 I left my horse with the train and ascended Little Round Top 
 to view the great battle-field. It commenced to rain hard soon 
 after and continued to do so all day. My view was very 
 limited, owing to the rain, but I could see burying parties at 
 work in some of the places where fierce fighting had taken 
 place. 
 
 When I found my regiment I learned that Lieutenant Good- 
 rich had been killed, three officers wounded, five soldiers killed 
 and about fifty wounded. The losses in the Fifth Corps had 
 been very heavy on the second day's battle. The corps had 
 arrived on the field early that morning. 
 
 The Fourth of July passed quietly, both armies holding their 
 positions, but General Lee was sending his trains away ; and on 
 the morning of the fifth General Meade found that the Rebel 
 Army had disappeared the same thing that had happened to 
 McClellan at Antietam. General Lee retreated rapidly by the 
 shortest route to Williamsport on the Potomac, where he found 
 his pontoon bridges destroyed and the river so high from recent 
 rains as to be unfordable. General Meade pursued leisurely by 
 a much longer route. This gave the Rebels at least four days' 
 time to take up a strong position and fortify it, when they 
 discovered that they could not cross the Potomac. 
 
 The Fifth Corps left Gettysburg on the afternoon of 
 the fifth of July and moved by way of Emmittsburg and Mid- 
 dletown across the South Mountain range at Fox's Gap to 
 Williamsport, where it arrived about the eleventh. Part of 
 this route was familiar to us, as we had gone over it the 
 previous year. General Meade directed a strong reconnais- 
 sance to be made on the morning of the fourteenth, which 
 developed the fact that the enemy had slipped across the 
 
 295 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Potomac during the previous night. The authorities at Wash- 
 ington were angry at the escape of the enemy without another 
 battle; and the army, whose hopes had been raised to a high 
 pitch by their victory at Gettysburg, grumbled audibly. Gen- 
 eral Meade wrote to General Halleck asking to be relieved of 
 the command of the Army of the Potomac, but his request was 
 not granted. Military critics claim that in allowing Lee to 
 escape from Gettysburg and again at Williamsport, General 
 Meade missed the greatest opportunity of the war to rout the 
 Rebel Army and end the struggle nearly two years sooner. 
 
 My horse, which had become a great pet, grew fat while 
 traveling through the rich farming lands of Maryland and 
 Pennsylvania, where there was an abundance of the finest 
 clover and corn. On night marches I often snatched a little 
 sleep along the road by leaning forward in the saddle, resting 
 my head on his neck and encircling it with my arms. Sometimes 
 I fell asleep sitting up straight in the saddle when slowly 
 jogging along, until awakened by a low branch of a roadside 
 tree brushing my face or knocking off my cap. At such times 
 the horse seemed to be asleep also, and moved along mechan- 
 ically. 
 
 The people in this section treated the soldiers kindly; some 
 women baked bread and biscuits to give away; others sold 
 us bread, butter, eggs and pies at most reasonable prices. And 
 how good that bread tasted ! I remember reporting for orders 
 at brigade headquarters camp one evening when the officers 
 were having supper and overhearing the General remark that 
 he would like to marry the woman who baked the bread he was 
 eating, no matter what her looks might be. In some of the 
 small villages and farmhouses the natives understood but little 
 English and spoke only Pennsylvania Dutch. 
 
 General Meade put the army in motion on the fifteenth of 
 July for Harper's Ferry, where we crossed the Potomac, and 
 I had an opportunity to see John Brown's Fort. Some of the 
 troops crossed at Berlin, about six miles below. We marched 
 east of the Blue Ridge, over much of the same road McClellan 
 had traveled the previous fall, while the Rebels passed down 
 
 296 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the Shenandoah Valley, guarding all the passes. At Manassas 
 Gap the Confederates were overtaken and an attempt was 
 made to bring on an engagement, which resulted in a lively 
 skirmish until darkness came on, but next morning the enemy 
 had disappeared. We resumed our march leisurely, by way of 
 Warrenton, and about the sixth of August went into permanent 
 camp at Beverly Ford on the Rappahannock, drawing our sup- 
 plies from Culpeper on the Orange and Alexandria railroad. 
 
 While on this march, near Centreville, we noticed a horse in 
 a field some distance off the road. His condition was deplor- 
 able, he hobbled most painfully, and I suppose the greater part 
 of the army had seen him in passing, but no one cared to have 
 such a lame and sorry-looking animal. One of my men was 
 curious enough to go out into the field to look at him, and dis- 
 covered that his foot was wedged fast into an empty tomato 
 can ; and when that was removed he was no longer lame. The 
 horse was cleaned and fed and became a useful extra riding- 
 horse. He was known by the name of "Centreville." 
 
 About this time we read in the papers about serious riots in 
 New York city called the "Draft Riots." Congress had passed 
 an act to enroll all available citizens of the loyal states for 
 military duty, to enable the states to furnish their quota, when 
 called upon for additional troops by the Government. Names 
 were to be drawn by lottery, and each man so drawn was to 
 serve in the army or furnish an acceptable substitute. This 
 had to be done ; all the two-year volunteers had been discharged 
 and, after the defeats at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, 
 there were few voluntary enlistments. The regulars were un- 
 able to obtain any recruits to fill up their skeleton regiments, 
 owing to county and town bounties offered for volunteers. The 
 riots in New York had been controlled for the time being, but 
 there was much uneasiness in the city as to what would occur 
 when the actual drawing of names began, for the Government 
 needed soldiers and was bound to enforce the draft. It was 
 therefore decided to send the two small brigades of regulars 
 and a few volunteer regiments to New York city to report 
 there for duty to General John A. Dix, commanding the Depart- 
 ment of the East. 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Accordingly on August thirteenth the troops destined for 
 New York city, under the command of General R. B. Ayres, 
 left their camps for Alexandria, some of the soldiers going on 
 freight-cars from Culpeper, while others marched with the 
 supply train to Alexandria. On our arrival there, after issuing 
 rations, I was ordered to turn over all Government property to 
 the depot commissary, make out transfers and take receipts for 
 it for Lieutenant Greeley. It cost me a severe pang to part with 
 my horse Tommy, to whom I had become much attached. He 
 was so gentle that often after a hard march when he was 
 unsaddled and fed he would lie on the grass and I would lie 
 down with him, resting my head on his neck and we would 
 both go to sleep. 
 
 My little staff of assistants was dispersed and sent to their 
 companies; and so was I, but not to do duty with them, only 
 to be accounted for. I was still brigade commissary sergeant 
 and was to be at Lieutenant Greeley 's call when needed. We 
 had to wait for transportation in Alexandria, where my regi- 
 ment was on a block in a private street. We stacked arms in 
 the street, and in the daytime sat on the curbstone under the 
 shade trees or loafed about the neighborhood. We did our 
 cooking by little fires in the street and at night lay down on the 
 brick sidewalks in front of the houses. This we did for two 
 nights. Fortunately it did not rain. In the house before which 
 my company was stationed there were some ladies who had a 
 piano and they sang secession songs after dark ; and we retali- 
 ated by singing all the Union songs we knew. They kept their 
 blinds closed and we saw none but negro servants enter or 
 leave the house while we were there. On the third day we 
 marched to the wharf and embarked on a freight steamer 
 the worst old tub I was ever on ! As usual, we were crowded 
 and I prefered to remain on deck and camped near one of the 
 masts. This steamer was a very slow propeller. The weather 
 was fine and we got along fairly well down the Potomac and 
 the Chesapeake Bay, until we passed the Capes and entered 
 the Atlantic, when we discovered that she was a high-roller and 
 hadn't ballast enough. Soon more than half of the command 
 
 298 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was seasick. The ship had no bulwarks, only an open pipe 
 railing through which it would be quite easy to roll over-board. 
 As I was not seasick I remained on deck, taking the precaution 
 to tie myself to the mast in the night-time. We were a long 
 time getting to New York, where we arrived in the middle of 
 the day and landed at a dock at the foot of Canal Street. 
 
 Parts of our brigades, who were on faster boats, had arrived 
 on the preceding day. The command was scattered throughout 
 the city ; some regiments encamped in Battery Park ; others in 
 Washington, Union, Madison and Tompkins Squares. Some 
 companies were stationed on the upper part of Fourth Avenue 
 along the New Haven Railroad tracks and elsewhere. My 
 regiment and another encamped on the block bounded by Fifth 
 and Sixth Avenues, Forty-eighth and Forty-ninth Streets. 
 This block was vacant except for a row of four-story buildings 
 on the Sixth Avenue side, still standing. The block had been 
 filled in and graded fairly level a few feet above the street, and 
 had a picket fence on the other three sides. There were few 
 houses in the neighborhood; close by, on Fifth Avenue, were 
 the foundations of St. Patrick's Cathedral which had just been 
 begun. The nearest horse-car line was on Sixth Avenue, where 
 we noticed an occasional car, smaller than the others and 
 painted yellow, bearing a sign in large letters, on either side of 
 the car, which read : "Colored people allowed in this car." 
 
 We left the dock at Canal Street during the afternoon and 
 marched up-town by way of Hudson Street, up Sixth Avenue 
 to our destination at Fifth Avenue and Forty-ninth Street, 
 where the men were obliged to sleep on the ground without 
 tents that night. I went to my home. We still had our band, 
 though reduced in numbers. It played during our march up- 
 town, and we had many spectators and the usual juvenile fol- 
 lowing. We did not look as pretty as the militia the people 
 had been accustomed to see; we were sunburnt, dirty and 
 ragged-looking; but, nevertheless, we received many cheers on 
 the way. The arrival of the soldiers from the Army of the 
 Potomac restored peace of mind to many people in New York 
 and allayed their fears of rioting and destruction of property, 
 
 299 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 while enforcing the draft. No disturbance occurred while 
 that went on ; if there had been, the rioters would have received 
 a severe lesson, for we had no sympathy for them. 
 
 The next day was a busy one in camp; tents were received 
 and put up ; sinks were dug and a water supply arranged for ; 
 and guards were posted at the gates to keep the soldiers in and 
 the overwhelming public out. Crowds of people, who seemed 
 to have nothing else to do, lined the fence and crowded the 
 sidewalks from reveille to tattoo, watching the soldiers. In 
 the afternoons the nursery-maids with their baby carriages 
 appeared, and were made love to by the soldiers on the other 
 side of the fence and forgot their charges. At sunset, when 
 dress parade took place and the band played, the sidewalks 
 around the camp were impassable. At night such of the soldiers 
 as were fortunate enough to possess any money and had not 
 obtained a pass jumped the low fence where it was not guarded 
 and remained away until the small hours. The commander 
 was liberal in granting daily passes to a certain number to be 
 absent from camp. 
 
 Lieutenant Greeley made a contract with one of the many 
 caterers who supplied food to the conscripts, substitutes and 
 recruits while they were in the city to provide cooked rations 
 for three meals per day for our brigade for the Government 
 money value of a soldier's rations, as computed in New York 
 city. This proved unsatisfactory from the start, the food 
 being poor and insufficient and often cold being served by 
 wagons, and at irregular times. In a few days the contract 
 was cancelled and each company drew its rations direct from 
 the New York commissary on Stone Street, and were furnished 
 cooking utensils and fire-wood to cook their own rations in 
 camp. This proved to be another very interesting item to the 
 loiterers about the camp, watching the cooking and serving of 
 meals for the soldiers. Lieutenant Greeley gave me the names 
 and addresses of a few prominent bakers in the city, whom I 
 was to interview with regard to obtaining fresh bread for the 
 brigade. Among them I found one named Wall, at that time 
 located on the lower part of Sixth Avenue, or on Carmine 
 
 300 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Street, who agreed to give us eighteen ounces of good whole- 
 some bread for the daily Government allowance of eighteen 
 ounces of flour, or its money value which offer was accepted. 
 I now had no duties of any kind to perform, except to see that 
 the baker kept up the weight of his loaves, and I was absolutely 
 free to come and go, when and where I pleased, during our 
 three weeks' stay in New York. I had some money with me, 
 also some at home, where I had at times sent part of my pay. I 
 took advantage of this short opportunity after the arduous 
 field service to enjoy myself as much as possible. 
 
 The brigade's headquarters were in Madison Square, which 
 at that time was enclosed by an iron fence set on a granite 
 coping, and around this the crowds were even denser than in 
 my own camp. Here the Fourteenth Infantry and some other 
 troops were encamped. And here Lieutenant Greeley, to whom 
 I reported almost daily, had his tent. The proprietors of the 
 Fifth Avenue Hotel, opposite Madison Square, generously 
 furnished meals for the officers in this camp free of charge 
 during their stay. Sergeant William J. Milligan of the Sixth 
 Infantry, who was acting as brigade quartermaster sergeant, 
 and who was an old bunkie of mine at Governor's Island, had 
 his tent here, where I slept much oftener than I did in my own 
 camp. The tent was under a large tree, facing the main 
 entrance of the hotel, and I believe that I can still point out 
 the tree. 
 
 The drawing for conscripts to fill New York city's quota for 
 the Government's call for troops was completed without any 
 trouble, and one morning in September, after a three weeks' 
 stay, we were ordered, much to our regret, to strike tents and 
 prepare to return to the field again. A paymaster appeared in 
 camp very early and gave us four month's pay, which was due 
 us, and which, I believe, had been purposely withheld until the 
 day of our departure. As we were not to leave until sometime 
 in the afternoon, I had plenty of time to say good-by at home 
 and farewell to my friend, Sergeant Milligan, for his regiment, 
 the Sixth Infantry, was ordered to Fort Hamilton in New 
 York Harbor and did not go to the field again during the war. 
 
 301 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 All of the old infantry regiments the Third, Fourth, Seventh 
 and Tenth all mere skeletons, were retained in the forts 
 around New York. For some reason the Second Infantry, 
 consisting of six companies, not half full, had to go back to the 
 field again, along with the newer and larger regiments, the 
 Eleventh, Twelfth, Fourteenth and Seventeenth Infantry. 
 
 We sat around, ready and waiting for the order to start, but 
 it was well along towards evening before we left camp and 
 marched down Sixth Avenue to Canal Street, the way we had 
 come. Only about one-half of our officers marched with us; 
 the others were probably having farewell dinners and knew that 
 the steamer would not leave until daylight next morning. Many 
 of our men did not have a cent when they arrived. The four 
 months' pay was burning holes in their pockets, and they were 
 tempted to have a little fling before going back to Virginia. The 
 streets were packed with people and it was quite easy to dodge 
 into the crowd and disappear quickly through the open door 
 of some corner saloon without attracting the attention of the 
 officers. By the time we reached Canal Street it was dusk and 
 many slipped away before we reached the dock. When the 
 roll was called, it was discovered that more than forty men 
 were missing, among them the drum-major, Lovell, and one 
 of the color sergeants, named McConnell, who had the regi- 
 mental colors with him. A detail was sent out to round up 
 the absentees ; but after a search of several hours, they had 
 only captured half a dozen. As many more came back of their 
 own accord, in a more or less muddled condition, and when the 
 steamer sailed in the morning about thirty men were still miss- 
 ing. All but two or three of these men rejoined the regiment 
 about a week later in Alexandria. When they finished their 
 spree, or their money gave out, they reported to the provost- 
 marshal, who held them and sent them on. They had a hard 
 time on the steamer with a disreputable lot of conscripts and 
 substitutes, who were thievish and quarrelsome. The drum- 
 major related that he was awakened on deck one night by a 
 man going through his pockets. He said to the thief, "Friend, 
 if you can find anything there, you are welcome to it !" Our 
 
 302 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 colors remained for two days in a hotel on Canal Street, but 
 were brought safely back. My regiment had to submit to a lot 
 of jollying from the other troops about losing one of our colors 
 in New York; but we never lost them to the enemy, neither 
 did any other regular regiment in the Army of the Potomac. 
 It was supposed that these men would all be tried by court- 
 martial for absence without leave, but directly after our return 
 to the field in the latter part of September, General Lee at- 
 tempted a flank movement which kept our army very busy 
 marching for some time. These were all good and faithful 
 soldiers, and instead of a court-martial a general order was 
 issued fining each man a month's pay. 
 
 The return trip of the regiment to Alexandria was unevent- 
 ful. We had a better boat and made a quicker trip than we did 
 going up to New York. The two regular brigades remained 
 long enough in Alexandria to be refitted with a supply train 
 and other necessities. I resumed my former duties under a 
 new commissary officer, First Lieutenant James B. Sinclair of 
 the Fourteenth United States Infantry. Of my former detail 
 I had but one, all the others being new men. I could not get 
 my old horse back and had to take another which was not 
 nearly so good. The two brigades then joined the main army 
 near Culpeper, about the time when the Eleventh and Twelfth 
 Corps were withdrawn from the Army of the Potomac to 
 serve in the West. The Rebel Army had also been reduced 
 during the summer by sending Longstreet's corps to Tennessee. 
 
 When General Lee learned of the departure of two of our 
 Army Corps, he put his troops in motion to turn our right 
 flank and rear. This was the beginning of a campaign of 
 manoeuvres between Generals Meade and Lee, like the moves 
 in a game of chess. We crossed the Rappahannock and for 
 about two weeks we marched and counter-marched along the 
 familiar line of the Orange and Alexandria railroad, the supply 
 trains along with the troops, until by forced marching we 
 reached Centre ville ahead of the enemy, where General Meade 
 offered battle. General Lee retreated, however, south of the 
 Rappahannock, destroying the railroad and burning the sta- 
 tions from Bristoe to the Rappahannock. 
 
 303 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 For some days we were prevented from following him by 
 a heavy rainstorm which made Bull Run unfordable and pon- 
 toons had to be sent for. During these marches in the latter 
 part of September, 1863, we passed one morning through the 
 almost deserted small town of Brentsville, the county-seat of 
 Prince William County, Virginia. The street in front of the 
 court house was littered with books or records and bundles of 
 papers which had been maliciously thrown out through the 
 open door and windows, probably by some of our stragglers, 
 or "coffee-coolers," as they were also called. I dismounted and 
 examined some of the books which I found to contain mainly 
 records of wills and transfers of property. Some of these 
 books and papers were being carried off by passing soldiers 
 who, when they examined them at the next halt, either threw 
 them away or built fires with them. I picked up a few bundles 
 of the papers and carried them with me until I got to camp, 
 where I examined them. The greater part of them proved to 
 be written consents from masters for his slaves, "Caesar and 
 Dinah" or "Rastus and Lucy" to get married. No surnames 
 seemed to be used for the slaves. Among the papers there was 
 one, however, which interested me and is still in my possession. 
 It is a writ for the arrest of William Murphy, as follows : 
 
 George the second by the grace of God of great Britain, 
 France & Ireland, King Defender of the Faith & .c. To the 
 sheriff of the County of Prince William Greeting. We 
 
 command You that You take William Murphy 
 
 if he be found within your Bailivic and him safely keep so that 
 you have his Body before our H Justices of our said County 
 at the Court house of the said County on the fourth monday 
 
 ..in.. July next to answer Benjamin Grayson Gent of 
 
 a plea of Trespass upon the Case, Damage ten pounds 
 
 and have then there this writ witness Peter Wagener Clerk 
 of our said Court at the Court house of aforesaid the XXIII 
 
 day of June in the XXVIth year of our reign 1752 
 
 P. Wagener. 
 
 On the reverse side of the paper is this endorsement : 
 
 Not to be found within my Precinct. 
 
 John Crump 
 
 This paper, yellow with age but well preserved, is five by 
 six inches in size. It is a coarsely executed pen blank with the 
 
 304 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 words in italics inserted in fine clear penmanship. John Crump's 
 endorsement is written in a good plain running hand. 
 
 The army now took up positions along the north bank of the 
 Rappahannock, where we encamped for two weeks or more, 
 while the railroad was being repaired ; and during that time we 
 had to haul supplies from Bristoe Station until the repairs 
 brought them nearer. A number of skirmishes took place 
 during the two weeks of manoeuvring, but no battles were 
 fought. 
 
 While at this camp I witnessed the impressive sight of a 
 military execution. A man from one of the new regular regi- 
 ments had been sentenced by a general court-martial to be shot 
 for desertion. Near sun-down the brigade was paraded and 
 formed three sides of a square on a level field outside of the 
 camp. At the open end of the square was a rude coffin and 
 a newly made grave. Soon the prisoner and provost-guard 
 approached, preceded by a band playing a dead march, passing 
 through the square towards the coffin. There the prisoner, 
 whose bearing was firm and steady, was blindfolded and made 
 to kneel on the coffin. A firing party of eight took position in 
 front of the condemned man at about ten paces. There was a 
 breathless silence for a few minutes, then suddenly were heard 
 the provost-marshal's commands, "Ready! Aim! Fire!" and 
 the man fell forward over the coffin. A surgeon examined 
 him and pronounced him dead; the brigade marched back to 
 camp, and the man was buried in the grave prepared for him. 
 
 On the seventh day of November General Meade again put 
 the army in motion to force the passage of the Rappahannock. 
 At Rappahannock Station, where the Rebels were intrenched, 
 there was a spirited engagement, when the Sixth Corps charged 
 the works and captured about sixteen hundred prisoners with 
 small loss to themselves. The Third Corps was also successful 
 in forcing a passage at Kelly's Ford and capturing some four 
 hundred prisoners. The Confederates, taken by surprise, re- 
 tired during the night beyond Culpeper. 
 
 305 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Next day the supply trains crossed at Kelly's Ford and the 
 army went into camp from there to Brandy Station. The rail- 
 road had to be repaired as far as Brandy Station, and an im- 
 portant railroad bridge crossing the Rappahannock rebuilt, 
 which consumed considerable time. We supposed that this was 
 to be our winter camp, as the weather grew very bad and cold, 
 as the season advanced, and the road became worse, but it was 
 not to be so. The authorities at Washington, unmindful of the 
 disastrous ending of Burnside's winter campaigns the previous 
 year, urged upon General Meade to continue offensive opera- 
 tions. Accordingly General Meade on the twenty-sixth of 
 November, after a severe storm, broke up the camps and started 
 the army on its march to the fords of the Rapidan. 
 
 The Fifth Army Corps crossed the river on a pontoon bridge 
 at a place called Culpeper Mine Ford on the same day, all of 
 the supply trains, except some ammunition wagons, remaining 
 on the north side of the river. On the twenty-eighth it was 
 discovered that a surprise was out of the question, the enemy 
 having concentrated all their forces in a strong position on the 
 west bank of Mine Run. 
 
 General Warren, who had commanded the Second Corps 
 since General Hancock had been wounded at Gettysburg, was 
 ordered to make the main attack on the morning of the 
 thirtieth. He made an early examination of the enemy's 
 works and had the moral courage to suspend General Meade's 
 order to attack, sending him word to that effect. This brought 
 General Meade to make a personal examination, after which he 
 agreed with General Warren as to the hopelessness of the at- 
 tempt. The men of the Second Corps realized that they were 
 to attack a position as hopeless as that at Marye's Heights at 
 Fredericksburg and knew that few would escape. The night 
 before the attack was to be made each man wrote his name, 
 company and regiment on a piece of paper and pinned it to his 
 clothing. 
 
 On the same night I was sent across the river with a few 
 supply wagons and reached the front early in the forenoon, 
 when I issued the rations and rested a few hours. I had a good 
 
 306 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 view of a part of the Rebel position, which appeared very 
 formidable, in front of the Fifth Corps. On my return march 
 in the afternoon a cold rain-storm came on, turning to sleet; 
 then it became so cold that my saturated clothing was frozen 
 stiff before I reached camp. The sufferings of the soldiers 
 before the enemy was dreadful. The next day General Meade 
 decided that the campaign was a failure and began to withdraw 
 the army, which recrossed the Rapidan unmolested and, thanks 
 to General Warren, without a useless slaughter, as in the 
 Burnside campaign of the previous winter. 
 
 This ended active operations in the Army of the Potomac for 
 1863. The troops established winter camps; the Fifth Corps 
 guarded and was encamped along the line of the Orange and 
 Alexandria railroad, by brigades stationed at intervals from 
 Fairfax to Brandy Station. The headquarters of my brigade 
 were at Noakesville Station, a small place no longer on the 
 map. Colonel Burbank, who commanded the brigade, and 
 staff occupied a large farm-house situated a few hundred yards 
 east of the little station on a hill. A small two-story out-house 
 was assigned to the brigade commissary and quartermaster 
 departments. A few regiments of the brigade were encamped 
 in the immediate vicinity, where they made themselves com- 
 fortable in their winter huts. I rigged up a store-house and, 
 together with the quartermaster sergeant and our assistants, 
 used the little two-story house as an office and for our sleeping 
 quarters. The house had a good roof, a fireplace and chimney. 
 There was plenty of wood and we were warm and comfortable. 
 My horse was stabled along with the brigade staff horses in 
 one of the farm stables. 
 
 The commissary depot for the Fifth Corps was at Catlett's 
 Station, about five miles from our camp. I was sent there once 
 a week with a wagon-train to draw supplies for the brigade, 
 and was always accompanied by an infantry escort, as there 
 were guerrillas about. One morning as I was starting off with 
 my train, Captain Samuel A. McKee, of my regiment, and 
 Lieutenant Edwin E. Sellers, of the Tenth United States 
 Infantry, who, with an orderly, were going to Catlett's Station, 
 
 307 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 asked me to ride with them in advance of my train. They soon 
 began to ride very fast and I found that my horse could not 
 keep up with theirs; frequently they were out of sight and I 
 was a quarter of a mile behind in the lonely woods. Then I 
 thought of the guerrillas, but we arrived safely at the station. 
 About a week later, April eleventh, 1864, Captain McKee, 
 accompanied by an orderly, made the same journey and was 
 shot dead on his way to Catlett's; his body was found lying 
 on the road, stripped of his arms and valuables and most of his 
 clothing. The orderly escaped. 
 
 About this time many brevet ranks were conferred on offi- 
 cers the greater part of them for gallantry in the field ; others 
 for efficiency in various lines of duty ; and some for no particu- 
 lar reason that anyone could discover. So generous was the 
 War Department in distributing brevet ranks that they seemed 
 to lose dignity and sometimes became a joke. The army mule 
 was dubbed a "brevet horse" and the camp follower became a 
 "brevet soldier." Some officers were advanced several grades 
 above their lineal rank by supplementary brevets. It was no 
 uncommon occurrence to find a lieutenant who was a brevet 
 major or colonel; and I know of a few cases where first lieu- 
 tenants held the honorary rank of brigadier-general. 
 
 Lieutenant Sinclair, the commissary officer, was an easy- 
 going, very pleasant man, much liked by both officers and 
 soldiers. He was a first lieutenant and brevet major a very 
 brave officer, who had the peculiar experience of being 
 wounded in the same leg in three different engagements, but 
 never very seriously each time able to resume his duties 
 after being discharged from the hospital. He remained in the 
 service for some years after the war. Lieutenant Sinclair was 
 a New Yorker. He had been with the Singer Sewing Machine 
 Co. before the war. 
 
 During this winter and spring a large number of recruits 
 joined the Army of the Potomac, among them many conscripts 
 and substitutes, who as a class were not the equals of volun- 
 teers of 1861 and 1862. The armies needed still more men and 
 on February first President Lincoln ordered a draft for five 
 
 308 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 hundred thousand men to be held on March tenth, and another 
 on March fifteenth for two hundred thousand more, to be 
 held April fifteenth, 1864. Recruiting for the regular army 
 almost ceased, owing to the large bounties paid for substitutes, 
 and the fact that the enlistments among the volunteers were 
 only for three years, or the duration of the war. I had a short 
 furlough at this time and spent four days very pleasantly in 
 Washington with comrades of my regiment, who had been 
 detailed as clerks in the War Department or were employed as 
 civilians after their discharge from the army. 
 
 On March twelfth, 1864, Lieutenant General U. S. Grant 
 was made commander-in-chief of all the armies of the United 
 States, deposing General Halleck, to the great satisfaction of 
 many of the officers and the rank and file in the armies. Gen- 
 eral Grant visited the Army of the Potomac for a few days in 
 March, consulting General Meade, its commander. Soon 
 after many changes and consolidations were ordered. The 
 five corps were reduced to three, viz: the Second, Fifth and 
 Sixth, commanded respectively by Generals Hancock, Warren 
 and Sedgwick. The Fifth Corps lost its old commander, that 
 sterling old soldier, Major General George Sykes, who had 
 commanded the regular brigade at the beginning of the war 
 and had risen to the command of the Fifth Army Corps. We 
 lost him with profound feelings of regret, which were only 
 compensated by the confidence we had in Major General 
 Gouverneur K. Warren, who had long been a brigade and 
 division commander of the corps. Skeleton companies and 
 regiments were consolidated, brigades and divisions were 
 enlarged. All of the regular infantry soldiers who remained 
 in the field at this time were placed in the First Brigade of the 
 First Division of the Fifth Corps, along with four regiments of 
 volunteers ; the One Hundred and Fortieth and One Hundred 
 and Forty-sixth New York and the Ninety-first and One Hun- 
 dred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania, which when combined, out- 
 numbered the regulars considerably. Brigadier-General 
 Romeyn B. Ay res, an old regular artillery officer, commanded 
 the brigade. 
 
 309 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 General Meade remained in the immediate command of the 
 Army of the Potomac, now increased to ninety-nine thousand, 
 four hundred and thirty-eight officers and enlisted men present 
 for duty, equipped ; while General Lee's army, composed of the 
 corps of Longstreet, Ewel and Hill, with Stuart's cavalry, was 
 estimated to number about sixty-two thousand. 
 
 General Grant arrived on April twenty-sixth and established 
 his headquarters at Culpeper ; with his coming preparations for 
 a forward movement were begun ; there was bustle and tumult 
 in all the camps, and a week later, May fourth, the Fifth Corps 
 crossed the Rapidan with the Second Division in the lead 
 preceded by a division of cavalry. 
 
 310 
 
PART XIII. 
 IN GRANT'S CAMPAIGN 1864. 
 
 A7EW days before the breaking up of our winter camp 
 on the Orange and Alexandria railroad an order was 
 issued from corps headquarters to discontinue our 
 brigade commissary department and turn over all property to 
 the commissary of subsistence of the First Division, Fifth 
 Corps. Lieutenant Sinclair was ordered to rejoin his regiment 
 as soon as the transfers were completed, and I expected to be 
 sent back to my company to shoulder a musket among my com- 
 rades once more. I was busy for a couple of days in making 
 out the transfer papers. When they were completed Lieu- 
 tenant Sinclair sent me to Captain M. R. Came, the division 
 commissary officer, to obtain the necessary receipts and 
 acknowledgements. Captain Came was an elderly man and 
 very peculiar. He glanced at the papers and in a drawling 
 voice with a strong "down-East" accent asked me if I had made 
 them out and if I understood them, to which I replied in the 
 affirmative. He then slowly and carefully put on a huge pair 
 of spectacles and taking another short look at the papers, 
 turned to me and said. "Young man, your threes and your 
 fives, your sevens and your nines I can tell apart, which is of 
 great importance; but I have seen better writing." 
 
 Then without further examination he signed the receipts on 
 his camp table and I saluted and departed. 
 
 On my arrival at camp I made preparations for my return to 
 my company on the following day, and was greatly surprised 
 when that evening I was ordered to report to Captain Came the 
 next day as acting division commissary sergeant. When I 
 reported for duty the following day he seemed to be pleased 
 to see me. He asked me to sit down in his tent and talked with 
 me about the duties I was to perform, telling me to keep a 
 
 311 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 daily journal for his private use of the marches we made, when 
 and where we drew supplies or issued them, and of all inci- 
 dents worthy of note. Then he told me to go and make myself 
 comfortable and become acquainted with his "boys," as he 
 called his assistants, of whom, he said, I was to be the "boss." 
 I kept the journal for the Captain during the time I served with 
 him and also a copy of it for myself. When I left him to serve 
 elsewhere I continued the journal as long as I remained with 
 the Army of the Potomac and I still possess it. I have often 
 regretted not having kept a diary all through my war service, 
 which would have made the task of writing this book much 
 easier than relying upon my memory, after the lapse of half 
 a century. 
 
 The Captain's "boys" consisted of a civilian clerk, a relative 
 of his, to whom the Government paid seventy-five dollars per 
 month and the allowance of one ration. He was a genial, care- 
 less young man, who hated work and passed his on to an 
 assistant, a soldier of a Pennsylvania regiment, who was a 
 bright, smart fellow, detailed as a clerk, and very efficient when 
 he could not get any whiskey. Between the two they kept 
 the "old man," as he was called, in trouble on account of delays 
 in rendering reports and accounts to headquarters, and in hav- 
 ing them returned for correction, with which the Captain him- 
 self was not very familiar. 
 
 Fortunately my duties did not include the keeping of 
 accounts ; I was to attend to the drawing of supplies from the 
 depots and the issuing of them at the front and I was also to 
 have a general supervision of the supply train, under the orders 
 of Captain Came. There were also four or five soldiers de- 
 tailed to do the heavy work, and a cook. All of these men 
 were volunteers; I was the only regular. The "boys" showed 
 very little respect for the "old man," who familiarly addressed 
 them by their Christian names. They seldom saluted him and 
 never stood at attention when he gave them his orders, unless 
 some strange officer was present. The cook was a good one. 
 He belonged to a Massachusetts regiment and was an artist on 
 baked beans. He would dig a hole in the ground and keep up 
 
 312 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 a fire in it all day, and at night put in an army camp-kettle 
 filled with salt pork and beans, cover it over with earth, and 
 next morning dig it up with every bean just done to a turn 
 and none of them burnt. 
 
 Captain Came was a native of the State of Maine. He had 
 joined the volunteer army as a commissary of subsistence and 
 had not served with any regiment. He was a man over fifty, 
 of medium stature and heavy build. He wore a grizzled, ill- 
 kept beard and had long gray hair, which together with his 
 carelessness in dress, gave him the appearance of a hard-work- 
 ing old farmer. When in camp he wore a soldier's blouse 
 without any shoulder straps to indicate his rank which, along 
 with an old felt hat, caused him to be mistaken at times for 
 one of the teamsters and to be addressed as such by soldiers 
 who did not know him. 
 
 He was an eccentric man, stubborn, but still kind and good- 
 hearted, especially to negroes in distress, for whom he seemed 
 to have a special tenderness. He always spoke of them as 
 "colored boys," and would not tolerate having them called 
 "niggers." On the march we were sometimes pestered by 
 "contrabands" negro men, women and children slaves who 
 had run away and followed the supply trains. These he would 
 care for and feed for days, instead of turning them over to the 
 provost-marshal. One day I saw the Captain almost shed 
 tears while listening to a tale told by a sleek, fat wench, who 
 seemed to be the spokesman for a large party to whom he gave 
 permission to ride in the heavily loaded wagons, and from 
 which they were presently ejected, to the Captain's great 
 regret, by Captain Thomas, the division quartermaster. 
 
 He had a negro servant, a lazy, worthless, lying rascal, who 
 imposed on his kind master shamefully. Often when called, 
 though close by, he paid no attention; then the Captain left 
 his tent to go in search of him, calling out "Aleck! Aleck! 
 Alexander Tyler, I want knowledge!" which was one of the 
 peculiar expressions he used when he wanted information 
 about anything. If he found "Aleck," and sometimes gave him 
 a mild reproof, the rascal always had a lying excuse and only 
 
 313 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 grinned at the old man. We wondered sometimes whether the 
 Captain bossed the negro or the servant bossed the Captain, for 
 he slept in his tent and helped to drink his whiskey. 
 
 The Captain was rather fond of a little whiskey himself and 
 always kept it in his tent and carried a flask in the holster of 
 his saddle when on the march. He was very free with it when 
 officers visited him and on those convivial occasions he some- 
 times had me called to his tent on some pretext of wanting 
 "knowledge," and when he dismissed me I could overhear him 
 say, "This is my regular." He seemed to be pleased to have a 
 regular sergeant as one of his assistants. The Captain was an 
 early riser and on fine warm mornings stepped out of his tent 
 dressed only in his undershirt and slippers. In one hand he 
 carried a tin cup containing his "toddy" whiskey, some sugar 
 and a little water which Aleck prepared for him every morn- 
 ing ; in the other hand he held a stick with which he stirred the 
 toddy, while gravely walking about the camp in his bare 
 shanks and talking to us until Aleck had his breakfast ready. 
 I never saw the Captain unfit for duty ; he was always attentive 
 to that. The principal effect that drink had on him was that 
 it made him cranky and ill-tempered at times. The laxity of 
 discipline in Captain Game's department was to me astonishing 
 with the training I had had, and I so expressed myself to my 
 comrades, who cared little about it and were always somewhat 
 jealous of me. 
 
 The supply train, heavily loaded with ten days' rations, in 
 addition to the five days' rations issued to the troops just 
 before starting on their march, crossed the Rapidan at Culpeper 
 Mine Ford on a pontoon bridge on the afternoon of May fourth 
 and proceeded a few miles on the other side, where we 
 encamped for the night. The train was guarded by a greater 
 number of cavalry and infantry than I had ever seen employed 
 for that purpose. 
 
 The next morning we marched in the direction of the Wilder- 
 ness until well along in the forenoon, when we halted and 
 remained in that spot for two days; then we made a night 
 march in the direction of Spottsylvania Court House. From 
 
 314 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 our position we plainly heard the firing which opened the battle 
 of the Wilderness of May fifth and sixth, which was the begin- 
 ning of a series of battles, marching, and almost continuous 
 fighting which lasted for forty-two days, until we had arrived 
 at the James river. General Grant, regardless of tremendous 
 losses, had sent a despatch to Washington in which he used the 
 noted phrase, "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes 
 all summer." He continued his movements to the left to out- 
 flank Lee, who met him on ground of his own choosing and 
 fought a defensive battle. 
 
 Of the great battles of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, North 
 Anna, Cold Harbor and the historical minor engagements I 
 saw but little, for my issues of rations at the front were some- 
 times made at night or during a lull in a battle, if in day- 
 time. I was always hurried away quickly, for the white covers 
 of the wagons, if noticed, drew the fire of the enemy's artillery 
 and on a couple of occasions caused the loss of some of the 
 wagons and the wounding of some teamsters. Only at Spottsyl- 
 vania and at Cold Harbor, while waiting for darkness before 
 returning, was I enabled to see my regiment in the breast- 
 works and something of the battle-field and to hear my com- 
 rades' stories of the fight. After the battle of the Wilderness 
 the Army of the Potomac was reinforced by General Burn- 
 side's Ninth Army Corps, numbering about twenty-two thou- 
 sand men, mostly newly raised troops, of whom but a third 
 had ever been in the field. 
 
 While the troops were at Spottsylvania the supply train was 
 parked on Stafford Heights, overlooking the town of Fred- 
 ericksburg, near a large spring of fine water which supplied the 
 town ; but there was no fire-wood to be had except by tearing 
 down old and unoccupied houses. From this place, about mid- 
 way between the front and Belle Plain on the Potomac, the 
 new supply depot where we drew rations, we supplied the 
 troops until they advanced to Cold Harbor. Captain Came was 
 very energetic in trying to keep up his supplies. He nearly 
 always accompanied the train to the depot, of which fact I was 
 very glad, as he could obtain better attention from the officers 
 
 315 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 in charge than I. The depots were busy places. The rule of 
 "first come, first served" was not always observed ; favoritism 
 was shown, and sometimes when alone I was unjustly 
 detained for many hours, or an entire day, before I succeeded 
 in getting my wagons loaded. When rations were to be issued 
 at the front the Captain remained in camp with the main part 
 of the train, which sometimes moved before I returned and I 
 had to follow it up with great trouble at times. 
 
 On our first trip to the depot at Belle Plain the Captain and 
 I rode ahead so as to arrive early and get our requisition on 
 file. The Captain rode a large horse named "Ned," to whom 
 he gave commands in a voice loud enough for a squadron of 
 cavalry: "Halt! Forward! Trot!" etc., which caused much 
 laughter as we passed through the streets of Fredericksburg, 
 among the soldiers and citizens, who vainly looked for a 
 squadron to follow him. 
 
 Belle Plain was crowded with shipping, arriving troops and 
 wounded soldiers, awaiting transportation, as well as prisoners. 
 A long dock, only wide enough for a single line of wagons, led 
 out to a small wharf, where there was room for but two boats 
 at a time and little room to unload ; beef cattle were made to 
 jump overboard and swim ashore. It was after midnight when 
 our last wagon was loaded and we drove off a short distance 
 and rested until daylight. On this occasion we lost two lead- 
 mules, who fell off the narrow dock in the darkness and were 
 drowned. 
 
 Reinforcements for the army were being forwarded rapidly. 
 On the way to Belle Plain we passed the First Massachusetts, 
 First Vermont, Second and Eighth New York, all heavy 
 artillery, serving as infantry, and the Thirty-sixth Wisconsin 
 Infantry, full regiments on their way to the front. 
 
 Late on the afternoon of May nineteenth the Rebel General 
 Ewell passed around the right wing of our army and made a 
 dash for the supply trains. He captured twenty-seven wagons 
 on the Fredericksburg road, but they were all re-taken. Gen- 
 eral Ewell was repulsed and his entire command came near 
 being cut off from Lee's army, when darkness afforded him a 
 chance to escape. 
 
 316 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Our next supplies were drawn from Port Royal on the Rap- 
 pahannock river. On May twenty-second the train was at 
 Bowling Green, a fine village, almost deserted except for 
 slaves, who were mostly women. We were now out of the 
 Wilderness in a fine part of the country containing large 
 plantations, which had not been visited by the ravages of war. 
 From Bowling Green we went by way of Mil ford Station to 
 Chesterfield, crossing the Mattapony river on the way. This 
 river takes its name and is formed by four small rivers, named 
 the Ma, Ta, Po and the Ny. 
 
 From Chesterfield I was sent with a part of the train to 
 supply rations to the division at Mount Carmel Church, which 
 the Fifth Army Corps was to pass during the night of the 
 twenty-sixth. It had rained most of the day; the roads were 
 bad, but I reached the place and waited for hours before the 
 division arrived near midnight and halted until rations were 
 issued, when they resumed their night march. The mules were 
 fed but not unhitched, for at daylight I started on the return 
 march. When I arrived at Chesterfield, where I h^d left the 
 supply trains, I found that they had been ordered away, and I 
 had to make a march of thirty miles that day over bad roads 
 to catch up with them that evening near New Town. 
 
 I was kept exceedingly busy during this campaign ; every 
 three or four days the troops had to be supplied and six days' 
 rations had to be kept in the wagons. This kept me on the go 
 all the time, to the front or to the depots, which were often far 
 apart. Much of the marching was done in the night-time, and 
 often the only sleep I got was dozing in the saddle or snatching 
 a few hours in an empty wagon when almost exhausted from 
 fatigue. 
 
 We had much rain during the month of May and the early 
 part of June. The roads some of them bad enough in dry 
 weather were in a horrible state. At Spottsylvania I lost two 
 loads of hard bread the wagons upset in a deep puddle and 
 one of them we were unable to extricate and had to abandon. 
 The horses and mules, ill-fed, hard-worked night and day, and 
 
 317 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 often suffering for water, sometimes succumbed. There were 
 times when we did not dare to lose time to let them drink while 
 fording a stream, no matter how they suffered. Often they 
 were hitched up for forty-eight hours at a time and my horse 
 did not have his saddle removed. 
 
 When the army reached Cold Harbor, the base of supplies 
 was changed to the White House Landing on the Pamunkey 
 river, a locality familiar to us in McClellan's time. On our 
 march we passed through Dunkirk, Aylets, Newcastle and Old 
 Church, a fertile region with many plantations. In passing 
 through this section many contrabands abandoned the planta- 
 tions and joined our train. A few times we took down fences 
 and parked the train in a great clover-field, which was a rare 
 treat for our hungry animals. 
 
 On our route we encountered General W. F. Smith's four 
 divisions of sixteen thousand men, of the Eighteenth Army 
 Corps, from General Butler's Army of the James, whence they 
 had come to the White House in transports and were marching 
 to reinforce Grant's army at Cold Harbor. We also met strong 
 regiments of heavy artillery, withdrawn from the defenses of 
 Washington, marching to the front. The authorities at Wash- 
 ington had given General Grant a free hand, which no former 
 commander had had, to recruit his great losses in this campaign. 
 
 While the opposing armies faced each other at Cold Harbor 
 for a period of twelve days, I made frequent trips with sup- 
 plies from the White House depot to the front, and on my 
 return journeys, which generally took place at night, we drove 
 to the field hospitals and filled the empty wagons with the less 
 seriously wounded and took them to the White House depot. 
 This was also done at the Wilderness and at Spottsylvania, the 
 supply of ambulances being inadequate to remove the great 
 numbers of wounded men. The roads being bad during rainy 
 weather, and the army wagons having no springs to lessen the 
 hard jolts, the poor fellows suffered intense pain and I often 
 heard them cry out in agony as I rode past the wagons. It was 
 pitiful to hear them. When I was in charge of the train I 
 made frequent halts to rest them, but this was all that could 
 
 318 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 be done. Sometimes one or two of the unfortunates died 
 during the night, the body remaining in the wagon among the 
 living until we reached our destination. Upon arriving at 
 the White House, the wounded were delivered at the general 
 hospital, where thousands of wounded soldiers were cared for 
 and rested for a few days in large hospital tents, before being 
 shipped in especially adapted transport vessels to Northern 
 hospitals or convalescent camps. 
 
 The great depot at the White House was a busy place. The 
 narrow river was congested with vessels of all kinds, including 
 some gun-boats. Great quantities of stores for the army were 
 discharged and newly arrived troops came ashore. Departing 
 vessels carried away wounded soldiers and Rebel prisoners, 
 many of whom seemed pleased at the prospect of getting 
 enough to eat; for they had been ill-supplied all through this 
 campaign, as they informed us. 
 
 On June ninth we learned that a change of base to the James 
 river was to take place. On the following day we loaded the 
 wagons with all the supplies they would carry and by way of 
 Tunstall's Station proceeded to the vicinity of Cold Harbor, 
 over ground familiar to us. Some of the conflict at Cold 
 Harbor took place on the battlefield of Gaines's Mill, only the 
 position of the two armies was now reversed. After supplying 
 the division the train left camp at three P. M. June twelfth, an 
 exceedingly hot day, for the James river. 
 
 After dark on the same day the Army of the Potomac was 
 withdrawn from the trenches at Cold Harbor, where they had 
 such a deplorable experience that General Grant himself in his 
 Memoirs says : "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." 
 
 On the fifteenth of June the Army of the Potomac crossed 
 the James on a pontoon bridge at Wilcox's Landing, just six 
 weeks after crossing the Rapidan. It had failed to capture 
 Richmond or to destroy Lee's army, and the campaign ended at 
 the James, as in 1862, but with an immensely greater sacrifice. 
 Conservative historians compute our losses at 7,289 killed, 
 
 319 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 37,406 wounded and 9,856 missing; a total of 54,551. Others 
 claim that these figures do not include the losses in Burnside's 
 Ninth Army Corps and make the grand total upwards of sixty 
 thousand, a loss on our side nearly as great as General Lee's 
 entire army at the opening of the campaign. None of the 
 authorities place the Confederate losses over twenty thousand, 
 or about one to three. This sanguine campaign, its awful 
 sacrifices without any advantages, caused mutter ings of dis- 
 content and had a gloomy and depressing effect, not only in the 
 army but throughout the North. The army had lost thousands 
 of its most capable officers and veteran soldiers, who could not 
 be replaced, and it no longer seemed to be the same army. 
 
 When Generals Grant and Meade, whom I encountered a 
 few times, appeared among the troops there was but feeble 
 applause, and the hearty cheers received by some of our former 
 commanders were no longer heard. At this period of the war 
 the only bright spot was the masterly strategy and successful 
 campaign of General Sherman against the Confederate General 
 Joseph E. Johnson in the West from Chattanooga to Atlanta. 
 In the Histories of the Wilderness, Cold Harbor campaign, 
 written after the conclusion of the Civil War by officers still in 
 the service or on the retired list histories most carefully writ- 
 ten there is an absence of criticism of the military strategy 
 in this campaign. When all participants have passed away, 
 some future historian will write an unbiased story of the war 
 and its strategy. 
 
 Anxiety as to the safe withdrawal of the supply trains was 
 felt, but they were well protected. So skillfully was the with- 
 drawal of the army and its trains accomplished that General 
 Lee was unable to determine for two days whether the object- 
 ive point of the Army of the Potomac was the investment of 
 Richmond or a movement to the James river. Except for some 
 cavalry skirmishes, the march was unmolested. 
 
 The train arrived at the Chickahominy on the morning of 
 the fourteenth and encamped at Wilcox's farm until the follow- 
 ing day, waiting for the pontoon bridge and approaches to be 
 completed, for an insufficient number of boats had been pro- 
 
 320 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 vided, causing twenty-four hours' delay. The river is wide and 
 deep at that point. We crossed on the afternoon of the fifteenth. 
 I counted forty- four large wooden pontoons and sixteen 
 smaller canvas pontoons, all of which appeared to be spaced 
 at greater distances apart than usual. 
 
 We halted at some distance on the opposite side and resumed 
 our march at seven P. M., reaching the vicinity of the pontoon 
 bridge over the James at Wilcox's Point before midnight. We 
 were halted there to allow the Ninth Army Corps to cross 
 before us. The train commenced crossing about two o'clock on 
 the morning of the sixteenth of June. It was a beautiful, clear, 
 moonlight night and I had no difficulty in counting the one 
 hundred and one pontoons composing the bridge over the 
 James, more than two thousand feet wide at this point. It was 
 daylight when we parked in a cornfield on the other side, and 
 men and animals were glad to get some rest. The teams were 
 not unhitched, for we were liable to be ordered forward at any 
 moment. 
 
 All day long the road was crowded with marching troops and 
 trains coming across the bridge, and by midnight of the six- 
 teenth the entire army with all its artillery and trains had 
 reached the right bank of the James. After sun-down our 
 train was ordered to pull out on the road, and after proceeding 
 a few hundred yards it was halted and did not go on again 
 until eleven P. M. After that we moved by fits and starts and 
 at daylight had accomplished only about three miles on the 
 congested road. 
 
 After daylight on the seventeenth we made better progress ; 
 we passed through Prince George Court House and halted 
 after noon-time in an oat-field a mile square, which was de- 
 stroyed in a few hours. There we fed the animals, after a 
 twenty-four-hour fast, and unhitched them for a few hours 
 they had not had their harnesses off for two days. I also 
 issued two days' rations to our division, which was halted 
 close by. We plainly heard cannonading in the direction of 
 Petersburg during the afternoon. 
 
 321 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 About six P. M. we resumed our march and for the third 
 night in succession we were on the road until daylight. On the 
 morning of the eighteenth we encamped within about two and 
 a half miles from City Point on the road to Petersburg. All 
 the supply trains of the army, commissary, quartermaster and 
 reserve ammunition were encamped in this vicinity about six 
 miles from the front at Petersburg ; all except what was called 
 the "Fighting Train," composed of ammunition wagons, which 
 always followed the troops and supplied ammunition when 
 required, in camp or during a battle. The supply trains were 
 destined to remain in this camp for many months, while the 
 long and tedious operations of the siege of Petersburg went on. 
 
 But I was not to remain in camp. A short time previous 
 some further changes and consolidations had been made and 
 my regiment was again placed in the Second Division of the 
 Fifth Corps, and three days after our arrival I was ordered to 
 report at the front as acting ordnance sergeant. The regulars 
 formed the First Brigade, along with the Fifth, One Hundred 
 and Fortieth and One Hundred and Forty-sixth New York 
 Volunteers, under the command of Brigadier-General Joseph 
 Hayes. When I learned of this change I knew that I would 
 have to leave my detail in the First Division and expected to 
 be ordered to join my company; being appointed ordnance 
 sergeant was a complete surprise to me and I never learned to 
 whom I owed the appointment. I left Captain Came on the 
 morning of June twenty-first and I think he was not well 
 pleased at losing his only "regular." He told me to come and 
 see him when I could, and to call on him for anything I needed 
 in the commissary line. For my part I was glad to leave the 
 kindly old man, for during my stay of eight weeks I always 
 felt annoyed at the manner in which my assistants performed 
 their duties. 
 
 First Lieutenant Richard H. Pond, of the Twelfth United 
 States Infantry, was the acting ordnance officer of the Second 
 Division, Fifth Corps, to whom I reported at the front. Lieu- 
 tenant Pond had been appointed from the ranks in May, 1862, 
 and he understood and performed his duties very well. He 
 
 322 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 was a pleasant man, with a taste for literature and spent 
 much of his time in writing. 
 
 The ammunition train was encamped close to General War- 
 ren's headquarters, in rear of some of the captured redoubts 
 and breastworks, and near the Norfolk and Petersburg rail- 
 road. With this train was a permanent detail of a sergeant, 
 a corporal and eighteen privates, whose duties were to guard 
 the train and to assist me in caring for, receiving and distrib- 
 uting the infantry arms and ammunition for the Second 
 Division. There was also a soldier named Ballard, detailed 
 as ordnance clerk, a very staid, pious man, much older than I, 
 who read his Bible when not otherwise occupied. Ballard and 
 I had a wall tent for our use; the ammunition guard had 
 shelter tents, and the wagon-master and teamsters slept in the 
 wagons on the ammunition boxes. I was provided with a 
 riding horse and accoutrements. I did not like the horse and 
 soon swapped him for a better one at the corral where extra 
 horses were kept. 
 
 My duties, while the siege went on, were much easier than 
 in the commissary department, and the reports and accounts, 
 which dealt only with arms, accoutrements and ammunition 
 for infantry, were more simple. Every morning I sent a 
 wagon loaded with twenty thousand rounds of cartridges to 
 the front, a short distance away, accompanied by a file of the 
 guard and sometimes I went with them. This wagon remained 
 at the front until dark, supplying ammunition when needed; 
 and when returning to camp, left a supply for the night. 
 
 Artillery firing was going on at some part of the long line 
 all day, sometimes furiously. Picket firing was almost constant 
 along the line in the rifle pits, and at night when the pickets 
 were being relieved, the firing occasionally was increased by the 
 men behind the breast-works on both sides, also by the artillery, 
 until it sounded like a battle. This sometimes kept up for 
 more than a half hour, when it suddenly ceased and only 
 pickets' shot were heard. There were some mortars along 
 our line, firing shells into Petersburg. I watched them at 
 night, when I could distinguish the burning fuses in their 
 
 323 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 curved course through the sky like rockets and could hear the 
 shells burst. After a while I became so accustomed to artillery 
 firing at night that it no longer awakened me, even if close 
 to our camp. The enemy's longer range guns sometimes fired 
 a few shells over our camp, invisible to them, and over General 
 Warren's headquarters close by, without doing any damage. 
 
 The troops manned the breast-works and constructed re- 
 doubts, bomb-proofs and covered ways by brigades and were 
 relieved by other brigades every few days. When relieved, 
 they retired some distance to the rear, near division head- 
 quarters, a short distance in advance of the ordnance train's 
 camp. Lieutenant Pond had his tent with the division staff, 
 where I reported to him every evening about sun-down for 
 orders, unless absent on other duty. 
 
 The weather had become intensely hot, and no rain had 
 fallen since June fifth. The heavy cannonading failed to bring 
 it on, as it generally did; with the exception of a few drops 
 from a cloud early in July, there was no rain until July 
 nineteenth a period of forty-three days. At first we got 
 water from a small stream a long distance from camp, but it 
 soon dried up. We then resorted to wells, as the troops had 
 to do from the beginning of the siege. Five or six feet below 
 the porous surface soil, there was clay containing water. We 
 dug pits and put down barrels with the heads knocked out. 
 As the drought was prolonged, we were obliged to deepen 
 our wells, digging ten to twelve feet or more in depth to get 
 a sufficient amount of water for men and animals. The dust 
 was many inches thick on the roads where, ground into a fine 
 powder by passing troops and trains, it hung in great clouds 
 so dense that often a teamster was unable to see his leading 
 mules. This, and the absence of water along the roads, caused 
 much suffering to man and beast. 
 
 The old Petersburg and City Point railroad was repaired for 
 the required distance and a new road, called the United States 
 Military railroad, was connected with it and finally extended 
 south as far as the Weldon and Petersburg railroad. Very 
 imperfect grading and ballasting was done in the hasty build- 
 
 324 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ing of this road. The soldiers declared that it made them 
 sea-sick to ride on its cars; nevertheless, it proved to be of 
 great service to the investing army. 
 
 Once or twice a week I had to go to City Point, about ten 
 miles away, to the ordnance depot with some wagons to re- 
 plenish the supply of ammunition for our division. By start- 
 ing early I was generally able to make this trip in a day, if 
 no great delay occurred at the depot, returning in the evening, 
 thickly covered with dust. 
 
 We presumed that General Grant would order a bombard- 
 ment and assault on the enemy's works at Petersburg on July 
 fourth but with the exception of firing a national salute at his 
 headquarters at City Point, the day passed without special 
 incident. 
 
 A few days later it was discovered that the Rebel General 
 Jubal A. Early had slipped away and was marching up the 
 Shenandoah Valley, well on his way to Maryland. The Sixth 
 Corps was hastily embarked on transports for Washington and 
 arrived there on the eleventh of July in the nick of time to 
 save the city. General Early had arrived before the northern 
 defenses of the city at an earlier hour on the same day and, 
 finding the works but feebly defended, contemplated an as- 
 sault on the following day which was frustrated by the timely 
 arrival of the Sixth Corps, which forced him to withdraw. 
 
 Shortly after the arrival of the army at Petersburg, City 
 Point assumed the appearance of a large and busy town. 
 Great store-houses and other temporary frame buildings were 
 erected and the wharf extended. General Grant's headquarters 
 were there, the commissary, quartermaster, ordnance and medi- 
 cal depots ; the general hospital with its many large tents 
 near the banks of the Appomattox river; undertaking and 
 embalming establishments, conducted by enterprising civilians ; 
 and a rapidly increasing grave-yard for the many sick and 
 wounded soldiers, who died in the general hospital. The 
 sanitary and the Christian commissions, sustained by the gen- 
 erosity of the Northern people, had large establishments. The 
 two commissions were of incalculable benefit in helping the 
 
 325 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Government in the care of sick and wounded soldiers and 
 saved many lives. Many sutlers had tents or booths near the 
 bank of the James, which looked like a market-place. It was 
 not until some time later that regimental sutlers were permitted 
 at the front. The river was so full of vessels that it resembled 
 a great shipping port. 
 
 One day, after loading my wagons, I went to one of the 
 sutler's booths to buy some crackers and cheese for a lunch 
 before my ride back to camp. As I stood among a crowd 
 of soldiers, waiting to be served, I heard one of them de- 
 manding something in a voice that sounded familiar to me. I 
 soon discovered that he was a former drummer of my regi- 
 ment, in fact one of the two boys who had accompanied me 
 from Governor's Island to Carlisle. He was now a bugler in 
 Captain Haxamer's New Jersey Battery. I was glad to see 
 him again. We conversed a while and then rode together to- 
 wards the front, his battery being stationed about a mile to 
 the right of the main road to Petersburg. He told me he had 
 a fine flute which he had found in a knapsack on the field of 
 Cold Harbor, which he desired to present to me, having no 
 use for it himself. At the parting of our ways he requested 
 me to wait, while he rode to his camp to get it. He soon 
 returned and handed me a package which I found, when 
 opened, contained the first two joints of a flute and a music 
 book. The third joint, usually made in two sections, was 
 missing. He thought he must have dropped it out of the 
 carelessly wrapped package, when he mounted his horse in 
 camp to return to me. He promised to make diligent search 
 for it, and did find the upper section of the third joint, where 
 he thought he had lost it, and brought it to me. More than 
 a month later, I met him again. He had recovered the last 
 section of the third joint and the flute was finally complete. 
 It appeared that a soldier of his battery had found this part in 
 camp and kept it for weeks in his haversack as a curiosity, until 
 one day my friend recovered it. I have treasured this flute 
 which came to me so curiously in installments ; the key on the 
 last joint shows plainly the imprint of a horse's hoof. 
 
 326 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Captain Game's camp was close to the City Point road. I 
 called on him a few times, when he invited me to his tent and 
 asked me to take a "little mite," as he expressed it. He seemed 
 pleased to see me, or was pleased at the excuse I afforded for 
 an extra drink. We chatted, and he urged me to stay and have 
 dinner with his "boys." On one of my trips, I fortunately 
 missed by a few hours the explosion of a boat with a cargo of 
 ordnance stores, at the wharf where I loaded my wagons. It 
 killed and wounded about a hundred of the negro stevedores 
 and other persons near-by, demolished some ordnance wagons, 
 and did great damage to the wharf and adjoining vessels. The 
 cause of the explosion remained unknown, but it was sur- 
 mised that Rebel spies were to blame for it. 
 
 Some change in the position of our division caused the re- 
 moval of our camp nearer to the Jerusalem Plank road. This 
 caused the digging of more and deeper wells to obtain a suffi- 
 cient supply of water, during the great heat and drought. 
 General Burnside's Ninth Army Corps was on the right of 
 the Fifth and there I saw the first colored troops join the 
 Army of the Potomac, observing the arrival of a new regiment 
 of negroes with their white officers on the road from City 
 Point. Many of them had taken off their shoes and carried 
 them slung on their bayonets while trudging bare- footed along 
 the hot dusty road. In the evening I went to their camp and 
 heard the roll-call of one of the companies. There were so 
 many Jacksons and Johnstons, that the first sergeant num- 
 bered them as high as "Johnston number five." They ap- 
 peared to be very proud of being soldiers and serving with 
 white troops. 
 
 There were rumors, late in July, that a mine was being dug 
 at a point in front of the Ninth Army Corps, where the field 
 fortifications of both armies approached the closest. On the 
 night of July twenty-ninth, I was awakened by an orderly 
 who brought me an order from Lieutenant Pond to have the 
 ordnance train ready to move at three o'clock next morning. 
 An hour later the order was changed to have forty thousand 
 rounds of ammunition at the front at daylight. I supposed 
 
 327 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 that the mine was to be blown up under the enemy's works and 
 that a general bombardment would take place. 
 
 It was just daylight, when I arrived at the front with one 
 wagon containing the ammunition. I waited, expecting to hear 
 an explosion at any moment. It was a beautiful morning and 
 all was quiet. I must have waited for an hour, when sud- 
 denly I felt the earth tremble as the mine was fired, and I 
 heard a dull heavy thud in front of the Ninth Corps close by. 
 The report had not yet died away when our batteries, mortars 
 and great guns opened a tremendous fire on the Rebel works 
 which shook the earth. 
 
 An intervening strip of woods prevented me from seeing 
 anything except the great cloud of smoke which arose over 
 the batteries. The teamster and two guards were busy trying 
 to keep the mules from running away, while I endeavored to 
 quiet my horse, which was trying to break the halter by 
 which I had tied him to a tree. I think it was ten minutes or 
 more before there was any reply from the Rebel batteries and 
 longer than that before their fire became general. Occasional 
 shells now began to fly over us and one of them a twenty- 
 pounder landed within a few yards of me, kicked around 
 and scattered dirt over me, as I threw myself prone to the 
 ground; but fortunately it failed to explode. The artillery 
 fire was kept up for more than an hour when it slackened, 
 but was vigorously resumed for a time about nine o'clock 
 By noon it had ceased and I was ordered to return to camp. 
 
 We learned later that the springing of the mine was a suc- 
 cess, although it took place an hour later than intended, owing 
 to a damp fuse which failed about half way into the mine and 
 had to be replaced. The explosion blew a small Rebel fort, 
 with all its inmates and guns, about two hundred feet up into 
 the air and made a crater in the ground about one hundred and 
 fifty, by sixty feet and twenty-five feet deep, which caused 
 consternation and surprise among the enemy. 
 
 It has been conceded that General M cade's plan for a gen- 
 eral assault on Petersburg was skillful and should have been 
 a success, had his orders been fully obeyed. General Han- 
 
 328 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 cock's Second Army Corps had been sent across the James 
 on the twenty-seventh to make a diversion, which resulted in 
 General Lee's weakening his defenses by several divisions ; 
 while the Second Corps was to return on the night of the 
 twenty-ninth to take part in the general assault on Petersburg, 
 which failed to take place. Owing to deplorable delay and 
 mismanagement of the division of the Ninth Corps, which 
 advanced after the explosion of the mine and became huddled 
 in the crater, the attack was doomed to lamentable failure, 
 which caused the loss of nearly four thousand men. Some 
 historians have termed this event "the mine fiasco." A week 
 later General Meade ordered a court of inquiry to investigate 
 the cause of the failure. This court, after the conclusion of 
 its sessions, promulgated its opinion as follows : 
 
 That General Burnside had failed to prepare his parapets 
 and abatis for the passage of the assaulting columns and had 
 not given them proper formation ; that he had neglected Gen- 
 eral M cade's order for the prompt advance to the crest and 
 had not provided engineers, working materials and tools, etc., 
 etc. As General Burnside remained at his headquarters, more 
 than a mile away, during the assault, he had no personal 
 knowledge of what was taking place. Brigadier-Generals J. 
 H. Ledlie, commanding the white, and Edward Ferrero, com- 
 manding the colored troops of the assaulting columns, were 
 found not to have pushed their divisions forward promptly, 
 according to orders; nor did they accompany them, but re- 
 mained in the rear in bomb-proofs most of the time and did 
 not know the position of their troops. Two other brigade 
 commanders were less unfavorably commented up. Six months 
 later the congressional committee on the conduct of the war 
 made a more searching and exhaustive inquiry into the "mine 
 fiasco." 
 
 Unremitting picket firing and occasional cannonading went 
 on during the sweltering first half of the month of August. 
 On the night of the fifteenth, the Fifth Corps was relieved 
 from duty in the trenches by the extension of the Ninth Corps 
 to the left. General Grant had decided to destroy the Weldon 
 
 329 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 railroad, an important means of supply for Lee's army, some 
 miles to our west, and, if possible, to make a lodgement there 
 and extend our investing lines to that point. The Fifth Army 
 Corps was selected for this movement and was to march on 
 the morning of the Seventeenth, but a torrential rain-storm 
 on the night of the sixteenth had put the roads into such a 
 condition that it was impossible to move artillery the next 
 morning. 
 
 Just before midnight on the seventeenth some Rebel bat- 
 teries opened fire on the Union lines and soon all the guns 
 and mortars on both sides seemed to be engaged. It was the 
 most furious midnight cannonading since the beginning of the 
 siege. All the mortars were firing shells, which made the sky 
 look as though there were a display of fireworks. It lasted 
 for an hour and a half, when the firing slackened and then 
 suddenly ceased on both sides, as if by an agreement. 
 
 A few hours later, at four o'clock in the morning on the 
 eighteenth, General Warren started the Fifth Corps on the 
 march to the Weldon railroad. At daylight we broke camp, 
 loaded the wagons and were soon ready to follow the troops, 
 but remained stationary awaiting orders. About noon we heard 
 firing from the direction which General Warren had taken, 
 and by two o'clock the firing had increased enough to indicate 
 a considerable engagement. The day was very hot, although 
 a heavy rain was falling. At five o'clock in the afternoon 
 Lieutenant Pond ordered me to start immediately with nine 
 wagons, loaded with ammunition, for the Weldon railroad 
 and report to Colonel Fred T. Locke, the Adjutant-General of 
 the Corps. I started promptly, taking along half of the guard, 
 mine being the first ordnance train on the road and keeping 
 in the lead all the way. The roads were in a bad condition 
 from recent heavy rains. One of the teamsters broke a wagon 
 tongue but there was no time to improvise a substitute and, as 
 the stalled wagon could be passed, I left it sticking in the deep 
 mud and hastened on. 
 
 I arrived at the Weldon railroad at nine P. M., where I 
 halted the train and reported to the adjutant-general at the 
 
 330 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 Globe Tavern on the Halifax road, which runs parallel to the 
 railroad. A lieutenant was ordered to guide me. He directed 
 me to follow him with three of the wagons and led me up 
 the road, nearly a mile, to a point between our line of battle 
 and our pickets. There I supplied the picket reserve with 
 ammunition. Sharp picket firing from the Rebel side began, 
 as they heard the noise of my wagons, but it was raining 
 and the night was pitch-dark and we escaped without damage. 
 I next supplied the different regiments of the division and at 
 daylight was ordered to retire and park the wagons half a mile 
 to the rear and to be in readiness to move at any minute. I 
 sent my empty wagons back to the old camp; and during the 
 afternoon the remainder of the ammunition train joined me, 
 also the wagon I had abandoned in the mud. Lieutenant 
 Pond had remained behind, sick. I did not see him again 
 for nearly a week. 
 
 Attempts to break our line were made soon after daylight 
 on the nineteenth and at intervals during the day. About five 
 o'clock in the afternoon the enemy turned our right flank and 
 enveloped a part of our division, capturing Brigadier-General 
 Joseph Hayes and some hundreds of prisoners. I saw much 
 of this engagement, but when the enemy got in rear of our 
 division, I was ordered to fall back hurriedly to save the train 
 from capture. Reinforcements arrived at this part of the line 
 and at dark the enemy had been repulsed. 
 
 It had rained nearly all day, the roads were now impassable 
 for wagons, but ammunition had to be supplied. I was fur- 
 nished with a large detail of men and, with much trouble, made 
 three trips to the front during the night with pack-mules loaded 
 with ammunition. About three o'clock in the morning, I took 
 the saddle off my horse for the first time in two days and 
 nights, and lay down in a wagon in my clothing, soaked for 
 two days with rain. I was exhausted, and succeeded in getting 
 two hours' sleep. 
 
 All day on the twentieth we were kept on the alert. The 
 troops on both sides held the positions they occupied, after 
 the close of the two days' fighting. The mules had not been 
 
 331 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 unharnessed since we had left camp three days before and the 
 horses were kept saddled. It had stopped raining, and our 
 troops were busy strengthening their breast-works, while the 
 pickets kept up firing. I made one trip to the lines with pack- 
 mules after dark, and about eleven o'clock reported at Gen- 
 eral Ayres's headquarters for orders. 
 
 The division headquarters were in a small farm-house. 
 Some officers' and orderlies' horses were tied to the picket 
 fence in front of the house. When I had tied my horse and 
 was stepping aside, one of the other horses landed a kick 
 on my right thigh which sent me sprawling into the muddy 
 road. Strange to say, I was very little hurt by this kick, which 
 must have been delivered at too short, or too long, a range. 
 I considered myself fortunate to escape so easily. Only a 
 week before one of the teamsters was kicked by a mule and 
 died on the same day. When I picked myself up and looked 
 around for some means to clean my hands and clothing, I 
 noticed a kitchen extension behind the house with a light in it. 
 There I found the general's soldier-cook, who knew me. Be- 
 sides being dirty, I was half famished ; and he fed me sub- 
 stantially and gave me hot coffee, which I had been without 
 for three days. A drink of the general's whiskey and one of 
 his cigars concluded the most satisfactory and enjoyable feast 
 I think I ever had, and I still remember the general's cook 
 most gratefully. 
 
 The loss of the Weldon railroad was of such importance to 
 the enemy that General Lee largely reinforced his line of 
 troops, while to our force was added the Ninth Army Corps, 
 which took position on our right, closing up a gap towards the 
 Jerusalem Plank road. On the morning of August twenty- 
 first, a bright sun-shiny day, the enemy made an attack on our 
 right and center and were repulsed, mainly by our well-served 
 artillery. At a later hour in the morning, a more vigorous 
 attempt was made on our left near the Globe Tavern, of which 
 I had a close view, my train being parked at the edge of the 
 same woods, beside the tavern. A part of the enemy charged 
 through a gap in our lines, but were almost surrounded and 
 
 332 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 more than five hundred men and six flags were captured. The 
 Rebels, repulsed at all points, retreated to their lines and the 
 battle was over at noontime. 
 
 When the firing had nearly ceased, I was ordered out with 
 two loads of ammunition. My division was stationed behind 
 breast-works, which were at right angles to and across the 
 Halifax road, nearly half a mile north of the tavern. As I 
 neared the breast-works, the white covers of my two wagons 
 were perceived and the enemy's pickets concentrated a lively 
 fire on the wagons, although they could only hit the tops and 
 not the mules, owing to the height of the log breast-works. 
 The teamster of the leading team jumped off his saddle, 
 dropped his lines and threw himself flat on the side of the 
 road. I seized the bridle of one of the lead-mules and guided 
 the team off the road to some depressed ground, followed by 
 the other wagon. There the ammunition was issued, and 1 
 was preparing to depart when the teamster returned, some- 
 what shamefaced, saying he was a citizen employee and did 
 not want to be shot. On our return to camp, we ran the 
 gauntlet of the pickets at a gallop and were quickly out of 
 range. 
 
 The losses in the Fifth Corps, during the three days' battle, 
 were about thirty-six hundred in killed, wounded and cap- 
 tured. On the night of this day I got a fair amount of sleep 
 and felt much refreshed the next morning. The enemy had 
 retired for some distance and our pickets were advanced a 
 mile beyond our breast-works, leaving us in possession of 
 nearly all the ground they had occupied. 
 
 Lieutenant Pond, who had reported for duty, ordered me 
 outside of the breast-works during the afternoon of this day 
 with wagons and a large detail of men to collect the abandoned 
 arms on the battle-field. The wounded had been removed and 
 the dead buried; only dead horses remained. After dark I 
 was sent out again to the picket line on the ground of the first 
 day's battle. There we collected a large number of arms, 
 remaining until approaching daylight warned us to depart 
 and avoid drawing the enemy's picket fire. On the following 
 
 333 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 night this was repeated under a heavy, soaking rain. I col- 
 lected upwards of fifteen hundred fire-arms, of which more 
 than half were those of the Rebels. There were rifles, mus- 
 kets and carbines; also bayonets, swords, belts and cartridge 
 boxes. The arms were rusty from having lain on the field 
 during several days' rain. 
 
 It was necessary to classify these arms, make a report of 
 them and turn them over to the ordnance depot at City Point. 
 This work kept me, with the assistance of the ammunition 
 guard, occupied for several days. Arms that were charged 
 had to be fired, or the charges withdrawn, which was difficult 
 in their rusty state. This work proved interesting to me and 
 coincided with my own observations when in the ranks with 
 my company in battle. I found that the ram-rods were missing 
 from a considerable number of discharged guns, and a greater 
 number had failed to be discharged on account of defective 
 caps, or a befouled nipple. Some were doubly charged, and 
 an occasional one had three, or even four, cartridges in the 
 barrel, indicating that the soldier continued to load without 
 noticing that his piece had not been discharged. Others were 
 bursted at the muzzle, showing that the tompion had not been 
 removed before firing. There were some with stocks broken 
 by violence, probably by cool-headed men taken prisoners, who 
 thoughtfully rendered their arms unserviceable. Such of the 
 guns as had more than one charge in the barrel were fastened 
 to a tree and, after fresh priming, we pulled the trigger with 
 the aid of a string, at a safe distance. A few that could neither 
 be drawn nor discharged, we buried in the ground. It has 
 been said that it takes a man's weight in lead for every soldier 
 killed in battle. I am inclined to almost believe that, from my 
 own observations and from the amount of ammunition I 
 knew to be expended on the battle-field of the Weldon Rail- 
 road, where I noticed innumerable bullet marks on trees stand- 
 ing on level ground, at height that could only endanger birds. 
 
 For the next few days the troops were occupied in further 
 strengthening their positions and in destroying the railroad 
 north and south, as far as our picket lines. This was accom- 
 
 334 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 plished in sections, by stationing a few hundred men close 
 together on one side of the track and lifting the rails at the 
 word of command, some with fence rails for levers, others 
 with their hands, and tossing them over with the sleepers 
 clinging to them. Huge fires were then made with the sleepers 
 and the rails were laid over them. When the rails were suffi- 
 ciently heated in the middle they were bent by their own 
 weight. When there were trees near-by, the heated rails were 
 twisted around them to make the rails still more unservice- 
 able. 
 
 Although we had made a successful and firm lodgment on 
 the Weldon railroad, the enemy could still use the road beyond 
 our left as a line of supply and reach Petersburg in one day's 
 hauling by wagons. General Meade ordered General Hancock 
 with two divisions of the Second Corps and some cavalry to 
 extend the destruction of the road as far as Ream's Station, 
 or further. At Ream's Station General Hancock was met by 
 a superior force of the enemy on the twenty-fifth, and after 
 a disastrous engagement, in which he lost about twenty- four 
 hundred men, was obliged to retire. 
 
 Next day some shifting of troops took place to secure our 
 left and rear ; the ordnance camp was shifted about half a mile 
 away from the Globe Tavern. After the middle of August the 
 long drought of midsummer was replaced by a rainy season, 
 which lasted until the end of the first week in September and 
 made life miserable in the breast-works and in camp. 
 
 As the result of recent drafts, many recruits now joined 
 the army; they came uninstructed and without being disci- 
 plined. A few of them were volunteers, but the greater part 
 were drafted or substitutes. All had received bounties some 
 of them a thousand dollars or more. This had a bad effect 
 on the veteran volunteer regiments. In many cases the re- 
 cruits out-numbered the veterans of high reputation, and 
 changed the character of the regiment, to its disadvantage. 
 Many of these recruits intended to escape at the first oppor- 
 tunity and some deserted to the enemy. 
 
 August thirty-first was muster day; six months' pay was 
 
 335 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 due us, and though the army was not very far from Wash- 
 ington and the United States Treasury, payment to the sol- 
 diers at this period of the war was very infrequent. 
 
 Throughout the month of September nothing occurred in 
 front of the Fifth Corps except picket firing, and but little 
 cannonading. I made some trips to City Point for ammuni- 
 tion and arms, until the extension of the United States Mili- 
 tary railroad to the Globe Tavern on the Weldon railroad made 
 that no longer necessary. On the night of the twenty-ninth, 
 after midnight, I issued ammunition at the division head- 
 quarters, so as to furnish every man with sixty rounds, forty 
 of which could be carried in his cartridge box, the remaining 
 twenty rounds in his knapsack or in his pockets. The ordnance 
 train was ordered a short distance further to the rear, near the 
 Gurley house, to be in readiness to move at a moment's notice. 
 An attempt to gain possession of the Southside railroad on 
 our left was to be made. Our works were largely stripped of 
 troops for this purpose and, for safety, nearly all other supply 
 trains, except ammunition, were sent to City Point. 
 
 We remained hitched up all day and all night. During the 
 night it rained and turned cold and continued to rain next 
 day. I turned into one of the wagons, together with the team- 
 ster, to get some sleep. During the night I was awakened by 
 the mules starting off with the wagon, and the voice of the 
 teamster who, with his head out of the back of the wagon, was 
 calling to the wagon-master, "Oh, Charley! I'm damned if 
 my mules with tongue and all ain't gone." It appeared he had 
 neglected to lock the wheels and, in his confused state, mistook 
 the back of the wagon for the front. 
 
 The next morning, October first, I was ordered away with 
 three loads of ammunition for the division. I passed Poplar 
 Spring Church on the way and went on to the Squirrel Level 
 road, where General Ayres had his head-quarters in a house 
 near a redoubt and breast-works, which the division had taken 
 from the enemy the preceding day. I arrived there about noon 
 and was ordered to leave two of my wagons at head-quarters 
 and proceed with the other to the front line about a mile in 
 
 336 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 advance. There I began to serve out ammunition to the details 
 sent for it. I had selected a position which I thought would 
 screen the wagon from the enemy's picket line, but presently 
 an occasional bullet struck the wagon cover, fired probably 
 by sharp-shooters, posted in high trees. A man of the detail 
 received a serious wound in the shoulder and I withdrew to 
 a less exposed position, where I was able to complete my task 
 unmolested and then returned to head-quarters. 
 
 Next morning early there was some firing at the front where 
 our troops were driving the Rebel pickets further back. A 
 large house, fired by our skirmishers, was burning; it had 
 harboured Rebel sharp-shooters, who had done much damage 
 the preceding day. 
 
 I was sent out to the lines again at noon and remained there 
 until evening. My station was next to one of our batteries, 
 which fired an occasional shell into the enemy's lines without 
 provoking any reply. A wagon-load of muskets were picked 
 up on the field, which I took back to head-quarters. 
 
 The losses in the Fifth Corps, in what was known as the 
 battle of Poplar Spring Church, amounted to upwards of six 
 hundred. After a feeble attempt by the enemy to assault our 
 position on the evening of October first, the two opposing 
 lines held their position for about three weeks. Our men 
 strengthened their breast-works and the engineers built some 
 redoubts. The balance of the ordnance train arrived and we 
 established a camp. My tent was put up and our duties went 
 on, as they had at the Globe Tavern. During the latter part 
 of September and the first week in October, we again had an 
 inordinate quantity of rain after the long summer drought, 
 which made camp life miserable, the more so as the nights were 
 getting cold. 
 
 In compliance with General Grant's order to extend the 
 left of our army and gain possession of the Southside railroad, 
 another important means of supply for the enemy, preparations 
 for the movement were begun on the twenty-fifth of October. 
 On that day I issued ammunition to the division; also arms 
 to some newly arrived soldiers. On the morning of the 
 
 337 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 twenty-seventh the movement commenced; the ordnance and 
 other supply trains were ordered back to the Globe Tavern, 
 there to await orders. As the troops marched off at daylight, 
 a heavy rain fell which bade fair to continue. For nearly 
 three weeks we had enjoyed beautiful weather and the roads 
 were dry and dusty, until this movement started. The enemy's 
 right was encountered about nine A. M. and spirited engage- 
 ments took place during the day, but the attempt to gain the 
 Southside railroad was a failure at this time. During the 
 night of the twenty-seventh, and the morning of the twenty- 
 eighth, the divisions of the Second and Fifth Corps, engaged 
 in this attempt, were withdrawn to their former lines at Poplar 
 Spring Church. The losses in the Second Corps were more 
 than fourteen hundred, while those in the Fifth were two 
 hundred and seventy-nine. 
 
 On the same day I was ordered to return to our camp at 
 division head-quarters. While at this camp, I saw much of my 
 company which was doing duty as provost guard at General 
 Ayres's head-quarters. After the arrival of the army at 
 Petersburg, the six skeleton companies of my regiment were 
 consolidated into two. Company D, in which I had served for 
 more than nine years, ceased to exist, and I became a member 
 of Company C. These two companies, together with the rem- 
 nant of the band, then did duty at division head-quarters. 
 
 On the thirty-first of October, General Grant ordered that 
 all of the regular infantry, serving in the Fifth Army Corps, 
 proceed at once to New York City and there report for orders 
 to Major General Dix. This was cheering news for us. We 
 presumed that we were to go there to keep the peace at the 
 coming presidential election, for which Lincoln and McClellan 
 were the candidates, and that we might be detained there for 
 a while before returning to the field. I was kept busy for two 
 days in trans fering ordnance stores and making out the neces- 
 sary papers, then I rejoined my company. Next morning, 
 November second, 1864, at an early hour, all the regular in- 
 fantry boarded a train composed of box and flat cars, waiting 
 for us on the United States Military railroad, which conveyed 
 
 338 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 us to City Point. Transports were ready for us, and by noon- 
 time we were under way down the James river on the voyage 
 to New York. 
 
 339 
 
PART XIV. 
 DEPARTURE FROM THE FIELD AND LAST DAYS OF SERVICE 1865. 
 
 THE voyage to New York was uneventful. We had the 
 usual transport discomforts with some rough and cold 
 weather and, on the second day before the election, we 
 reached New York Harbor. The small battalion of the Second 
 United States Infantry, consisting of half a dozen officers, 
 about seventy-five men and a dog, landed at Fort Hamilton 
 dock, along with about half the other troops on board. The re- 
 mainder, as well as those on another transport, were distributed 
 among various forts in the vicinity of New York. We marched 
 to the fort with flying colors, but we had no band; the few 
 remaining members of our band were doing other duty and 
 Sergeant Lovell, the big drum-major, had been one of the color 
 sergeants for more than a year. My company was quartered 
 in one of the damp and gloomy casemates which had but a 
 single window, or porthole, overlooking the bay. 
 
 On election day we were not allowed to go outside of the 
 fort. Extra ammunition was issued and a thorough inspection 
 of arms was held. A large ferry-boat remained at the dock 
 the entire day to transport us to the city in case of a serious 
 riot which, however, did not occur. 
 
 A few days later several soldiers in the company, including 
 myself, secured passes to visit the city. We had to walk a long 
 distance before reaching a horse-car line to take us to one of 
 the ferries from Brooklyn to New York. While on this leave 
 I visited my old friend, Sergeant Major Milligan, who was ill 
 with consumption at his mother's house. The hardships of 
 field service had been too much for his somewhat delicate 
 constitution. It was the last time I saw him. He died within 
 two weeks, much beloved, and his death greatly regretted by 
 
 341 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 his comrades, who erected a modest but appropriate monu- 
 ment to his memory in New York Bay Cemetery. 
 
 During our short stay at Fort Hamilton, we performed 
 regular garrison duty. I was sergeant of the guard a couple 
 of times and one of these occasions I am not likely to forget. 
 We mounted a strong guard and had sentinels posted all 
 around the fort and the adjoining redoubt. The guard-room 
 and prison were in casemates on the east side of the fort, on 
 each side of a sally-port. At that time nearly fifty prisoners 
 were in confinement the toughest element I ever saw in the 
 army. Some were general prisoners undergoing sentences 
 they wore a ball and chain; others were awaiting trial for 
 various crimes ; and there were, also, a small number of ordi- 
 nary "drunks." It was customary to parade and call the roll 
 of the prisoners in the morning when the guard was changed, 
 and again at retreat in the evening, before they were locked 
 up for the night. 
 
 A few of the prisoners had escaped at times, which made a 
 young and inexperienced lieutenant, who was officer of the 
 day on my first tour of guard, so nervous that he ordered 
 most extraordinary and unwise precautions against a recur- 
 rence of escapes. He ordered me to turn out the guard and 
 all of the prisoners at eleven o'clock at night and at three 
 o'clock in the morning hours at which the sentinels were not 
 relieved. The officer of the day was present at eleven, when 
 I called out the two relieves of the guard, not on post, and 
 formed ranks in the sally-port. Then with a corporal and 
 two files of the guard, we started to turn out the prisoners. 
 They objected strenuously at the unusual proceeding and 
 cursed and swore dreadfully. It took a long time to turn them 
 all out and count them, by the aid of a lantern. They were left 
 standing in the ranks, half clad and shivering, while the 
 officer of the day ordered me to accompany him for an inspec- 
 tion of the prisoners' quarters. More than half an hour had 
 been consumed in the parading of the prisoners. 
 
 At three o'clock, when we turned them out for the second 
 time, there was almost a riot. Some swore they would kill 
 
 342 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the lieutenant, others refused to get up and I had to bring in 
 more help to drag them from their bunks and push them into 
 the ranks, with only a blanket to cover them. They yelled and 
 shouted and began to throw things at the guards in the semi- 
 darkness the only light being from a few lanterns. The lieu- 
 tenant drew his sword and threatened to run it through the 
 body of any prisoner who refused to obey orders, but he 
 prudently remained outside the doorway. Now all this trouble 
 was needless. A sentinel was posted outside the prison door 
 and another at the only window. The prisoners' chances of 
 escape by slipping away in the darkness, while outside, were 
 better than when locked up. When the post commander heard 
 the next day about the turning out of the prisoners in the 
 night-time he ordered that it should not be repeated, and it 
 may be assumed that the over-zealous lieutenant was admon- 
 ished to use more discretion in the future. 
 
 About a week after the election, my company (C) received 
 orders to be ready next morning in full marching order and 
 proceed to Governor's Island to escort a detachment of Rebel 
 prisoners from there to Elmira, New York, where the Gov- 
 ernment had established a large prison camp. As the other 
 company remained at Fort Hamilton, we supposed that we 
 would return there when our duty had been performed. We 
 embarked on a steam-boat and soon arrived at the Governor's 
 Island dock, where about two hundred ragged and hungry 
 "Rebs," who had been confined in Castle Williams for a few 
 days, were awaiting us. Each prisoner, as he stepped on board, 
 received a loaf of bread and a piece of boiled beef to which 
 he immediately did ample justice. The boat started for Jersey 
 City where we put the prisoners on the cars of the Erie rail- 
 road. It was a special train, made up of emigrant cars, which 
 made but few stops. I had charge of one of the cars in which 
 every seat but four for the guard was occupied by a prisoner. 
 With me were six privates as guards. I stationed three at each 
 end of the car with their loaded rifles. When the train halted, 
 one of the guards was stationed outside on each side of the 
 car, and I also descended. 
 
 343 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 At Goshen and some other stations where we halted for a 
 brief time, some of the citizens gave the prisoners fruit, cigars 
 and tobacco, which we allowed to be passed to them through 
 the car windows. It was quite late at night when we arrived 
 at Elmira and turned our prisoners over to some guards, who 
 marched them to the prison camp two miles or more away. 
 The company passed the remainder of the night in some freight 
 sheds, while the captain and lieutenant put up at the nearest 
 hotel. 
 
 Next morning we were vexed and disgusted at learning that 
 we were not to go back to New York, but were to remain at 
 Elmira to guard prisoners. The general desire was to go back 
 to the field and see the close of the war, of which a part of the 
 Second Infantry had seen the beginning. We had made up 
 our minds that the end was near; prisoners at the front had 
 told us of the dire straits of General Lee's army for food 
 and clothing and the rapidly diminishing forces. We felt 
 angry with the authorities who had condemned us to such an 
 inglorious duty, after our long and faithful service in the field, 
 where we had lost more than a third of our number. But 
 there was no help for it. As soldiers, we had to obey orders. 
 We were not the only ones thus treated. The companies of 
 the Twelfth and Seventeenth Infantry, who had left the field 
 at the same time, had arrived here a few days before and were 
 then doing duty. Subsequently we learned that the First Bat- 
 talion of the Eleventh and the Second Battalion of the Twelfth 
 were returned to the Army of the Potomac, where they re- 
 mained to the end and were present at the surrender of 
 General Lee's army. The company left at Fort Hamilton, 
 together with our small "field and staff," was sent to Newport 
 Barracks, Kentucky, there to recruit and reform the Second 
 Infantry for future service. 
 
 The company marched from the Elmira depot a long dis- 
 tance beyond the suburbs of the town to the prison camp, near 
 which we encamped, alongside of other troops. We put up 
 "A" tents and raided some hay-stacks for bedding. It was 
 cold, and as wood was furnished for cooking purposes only, 
 
 344 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 we crowded around the kitchen fire, which had no shelter, to 
 warm ourselves. All the troops, except the recently arrived 
 regulars, were sheltered in temporary barracks. 
 
 The force guarding the Rebel prisoners, who were all of 
 the fank and file, was composed of a battery of artillery, 
 nearly a thousand regular infantry, several regiments of the 
 Veteran Reserve Corps and a few others. The Veteran Re- 
 serve Corps was a new organization, something like Home 
 Guards. It was composed of men considered unfit for field 
 duty. In its ranks were a considerable number of men who 
 had for a time served at the front. The active soldiers named 
 this organization "The Invalid Corps." Colonel Moore of 
 the Veteran Reserve Corps, the ranking officer, was in com- 
 mand of all the troops of the prison guard. 
 
 The prison camp near Elmira was established in July, 1864, 
 and, at the time of our arrival, contained upwards of ten 
 thousand prisoners. They had been in tents all summer but 
 were then in barracks, within a stockade enclosing about forty 
 acres. The main front with the principal gate and guard- 
 house was close to and faced the road leading into Elmira, 
 the back was near the Chemung river. A platform, from 
 which the sentinels could overlook the prison yards and dead 
 line, surrounded the entire stockade. 
 
 The site was badly chosen, there was a swamp within the 
 enclosure and much of it was liable to be overflowed by the 
 Chemung river. A great amount of sickness prevailed at 
 times five hundred were inmates of the prison hospital and 
 as many more sick in quarters. More than ten per cent, of 
 the prisoners died, while this prison existed; two thousand, 
 nine hundred and seventeen were buried at the base of the 
 hills about a mile from the prison. The greatest mortality 
 was during the hard winter of 1864-'65, when often a dozen 
 or more died every day and were removed every morning to 
 be buried in trenches without any ceremony. 
 
 The Government allowed a soldier's rations for each pris- 
 oner, but that was considered too much for men who had 
 practically no exercise, and it was left to the discretion of the 
 
 345 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 prison commander, as to how much of the ration was to be 
 issued. The saving was to constitute a fund for building 
 quarters, hospitals, clothing, bedding and other supplies for 
 the prisoners. At Elmira the prisoners received about two- 
 thirds of a ration, served to them in two cooked meals daily. 
 This kept them somewhat hungry, but they were far better off 
 than our starving and shelterless prisoners in the South. When 
 the inhuman treatment of our soldiers in the Southern prisons 
 became known in the North, there was a hue and cry for 
 retaliation ; but I think none of it was practised in the Northern 
 prisons. The suspension of the exchange of prisoners during 
 1864 by our Government caused increased suffering and many 
 deaths of our soldiers in the Southern prisons. 
 
 Opposite the prison pen, on land not leased by the Govern- 
 ment, several open-timbered observation towers had been 
 erected by citizens. They were about forty feet in height with 
 a flat deck on top, which had stairs leading up to it. From 
 the top of these towers a good view of the interior of the 
 prison and its teeming inmates could be had for the payment 
 of ten cents admission fee. On clear days, and especially on 
 Sundays, many of Elmira's citizens availed themselves of this 
 opportunity to see the Rebel prisoners. The lower part of 
 these structures were enclosed and used as groggeries, mainly 
 patronized by soldiers. These places and some others along 
 the road to town made trouble for the provost guard and pro- 
 vided inmates for the guard-house. 
 
 On the second day after our arrival, Colonel Moore ordered 
 that one of the regular sergeants be detailed to act as post 
 sergeant major. I was selected for the position and ordered 
 to report to the post adjutant for duty. The adjutant's office 
 was in a temporary building near the prison gate. It consisted 
 of one large room, furnished with a number of desks and a 
 stove. There were three clerks employed, all of whom be- 
 longed to the Invalid Corps. I performed the duties of a 
 sergeant major at the guard-mount parade every morning 
 which was no small affair, as the daily guard numbered more 
 than two hundred. After guard-mount, Colonel Moore and 
 
 246 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 the adjutant spent a few hours at the office, while the clerks 
 and I were busy consolidating the morning reports of the 
 troops and making out guard details from rosters for the 
 following day. In the afternoon I was generally free to do 
 as I pleased, go to town or to my cold camp, for I had to mess 
 with my company and sleep in my tent. I had a standing pass 
 to go anywhere about Elmira; but when the weather was 
 bad, I usually remained in the adjutant's office until it closed 
 in the evening. The hot stove there had an attraction for me. 
 One night there was a noisy disturbance and fighting among 
 the soldiers in one of the groggeries. The provost guard 
 arrested every one there, including Quinn, the proprietor. Next 
 morning a boy came into the adjutant's office and handed 
 Colonel Moore a dirty, crumpled piece of paper on which was 
 scrawled in pencil 
 
 Kurnell Moore sir i am in the gard hous sir and i dunno for wat sir 
 im a sitisen sir and me name is Patrick Quinn sir. 
 
 The Colonel wa s an elderly man with a good sense of humor ; 
 he was much amused by this note and pinned it up on the 
 wall over his desk where he often called some of the visiting 
 officers' attention to it. As for "Patrick Quinn sir" he had to 
 be released, as he had a city license and was not located on 
 Government ground. 
 
 On Thanksgiving Day, the ladies of Elmira provided a 
 turkey dinner for all the soldiers. We marched by detach- 
 ments to a temporary hall, neatly decorated for the occasion. 
 There was a band and an abundant dinner served by the 
 ladies themselves. At its close we gave thanks to the ladies 
 of Elmira in speech and in rousing cheers. 
 
 After Thanksgiving Day we had deep snow, and it became 
 so cold that we suffered greatly in our camp. Temporary 
 quarters were being erected for the regulars, but they were 
 not ready until the first week in December. My company did 
 not occupy them ; we were sent to Barracks No. 2, which was 
 on the opposite side of the town, on the outskirts, more than 
 three miles from our camp. Owing to this move I lost my 
 
 347 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 position of post sergeant major, which I had held for only 
 three weeks. At Barracks No. 2 we were fairly comfortable. 
 We had stoves and bunks in the quarters. A few other com- 
 panies were quartered there, but no Rebel prisoners. We did 
 the ordinary garrison duty and had much spare time to walk 
 around the town, going sometimes to a theatre, when a troupe 
 came to town. The shows were held in a hall on the second 
 floor of a building on the principal street. I particularly re- 
 member a piece called, "The Sea of Ice," in which, owing to 
 the limited height of the pasteboard icebergs on the stage, the 
 actors were forced to stoop low when trying to conceal them- 
 selves from the bloodthirsty Eskimos. 
 
 During the winter, which was severe, the first sergeant of 
 my company reenlisted, receiving a two months' furlough, and 
 in his absence I acted as first sergeant. I have still in my pos- 
 session the company roll, as I then daily called it. Only ten 
 names of soldiers, who had served on the frontiers, remained ; 
 all the others were the names of men who had joined during 
 the war. Of the officers, there were but seven in the regiment 
 who had seen frontier service, all of them serving elsewhere 
 at this time. Not one of these seven officers belonged to the 
 regiment at the outbreak of the war, they had all been pro- 
 moted into it. Captain William F. Drum was in command of 
 Company C, but left us during the month of February to 
 become the colonel of the Fifth New York Veteran Volun- 
 teers, then serving in the field in the Fifth Army Corps under 
 General Warren. Captain Drum, whose esteem I possessed, 
 told me before his departure that, after he took command of 
 his regiment, he would apply to Governor Fenton of New 
 York for a commission for me as he desired to have me serve 
 with him after my discharge, which was soon to take place. 
 A few weeks later he wrote me, saying he had made the 
 application. 
 
 About the middle of March, 1865, we left Barracks No. 2 
 and again went into camp near the prison pen, on the same 
 ground we had occupied previously. The ice in the Chemung 
 river had broken up and melting snow raised the river until it 
 
 348 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 ' overflowed its banks and inundated a part of the prison barrack 
 buildings, causing much suffering among the inmates. In a 
 few days the first sergeant returned from furlough; but as I 
 had not many more days to serve, I was excused from guard 
 duty. At the request of the company commander, Brv't. 
 Captain William Falk, I devoted the last days of my service 
 to putting the company's books and papers in thorough order. 
 
 On the twenty-fourth day of March, 1865, I received my 
 discharge from the army for the second time, by no means 
 certain that I would not rejoin again. I put on my best uniform 
 and disposed of my little belongings among my comrades. I 
 received my final statements, which I handed to a paymaster, 
 permanently stationed in Elmira, who paid me in full. That 
 evening with a few special friends I had dinner at a hotel in 
 the town, and at about nine o'clock bade them farewell at the 
 depot. I boarded a train, spent the night on a seat, and ar- 
 rived in New York next morning. 
 
 I had a letter to Colonel Richard I. Dodge, who was the 
 chief mustering and disbursing officer in New York city, with 
 the principal offices at 23 and 25 St. Marks Place. Colonel 
 Dodge employed me at once as a clerk at seventy-five dollars 
 per month. In a few days I entered upon my duties under 
 Captain Henry A. Ellis, in whose office there were half a 
 dozen other clerks, all but one being discharged soldiers, some 
 of whom I had known in the field. Our duties consisted in 
 making discharges and final statements for individual soldiers, 
 regulars and volunteers. Later on, when the army disbanded, 
 we made out the muster rolls and final accounts for many 
 volunteer regiments, who were mustered out of the service in 
 New York. 
 
 General Grant had put the Army of the Potomac in motion, ~ 
 and on the first day of April, the battle of Five Forks was 
 successfully fought, which indicated the end of the Confed- 
 eracy. All this time I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of 
 my commission for I ardently wished to be present at the final 
 stage of the war. General Lee surrendered on the ninth of 
 April to General Grant, and General Johnston to General Sher- 
 
 349 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 man a week later. Peace was soon declared. The grand re- 
 view of Grant and Sherman's veteran soldiers was held in 
 Washington on May twenty-fourth and, by June first, the 
 Fifth* Army Corps had ceased to exist. 
 
 I received the commission from Albany early in June but I 
 wrote to Colonel Drum informing him that, in as much as the 
 Fifth New York Veteran Volunteers were likely to be mus- 
 tered out of service within a month, I had decided not to be 
 mustered in to join the regiment for so short a time. I 
 have since regretted that I did not serve as an officer, even 
 for so short a time. The fact of not having been mustered in 
 debars me from becoming a member of the Loyal Legion ac- 
 cording to its rules, no matter how much service I had in the 
 field. 
 
 We were busy during the summer mustering out troops, and 
 opened a branch office at the south-west corner of Broome and 
 Elm Street where, under Lieutenant Netterville of the Twelfth 
 United States Infantry, I remained for a few months. In 
 the fall I was returned to the main office, where I continued 
 until the month of January, 1866, when the mustering and 
 disbursing office was ordered to be closed. This proved to be 
 my final service for the Government, in or out of the army. 
 Henceforth I was to be a citizen. 
 
 350 
 
REFLECTIONS. 
 
 I SOMETIMES ask myself the questions Was my army 
 service a benefit or a detriment to me in after life? 
 Would I have attained a better condition and standing, if 
 I had not been in the military service? These are questions 
 hard to answer in my case, as I had to struggle for a living 
 and had no one to give me a helping hand to gain a higher 
 plane. When I left the army I was not yet twenty- four and 
 totally inexperienced in earning a livelihood in civil life, which 
 was rendered more difficult by the fact that a million young 
 men were released from the army at the same time, all seeking 
 new careers outside of military service. An element of luck 
 and some of the habits I had acquired in the army were 
 beneficial to me. The military training taught me responsi- 
 bility, promptness and self-control, which I found useful in my 
 long business career and as an employer. The out-of-door 
 life for ten years fortified me in health, which has lasted to 
 the present day and for which I am most grateful. I have 
 much to be thankful for and little to regret. 
 
 I believe that a three years' term of army service would be 
 beneficial to most young men of good character and habits. 
 To-day soldiers of the United States Army enjoy many ad- 
 vantages and comforts that were unknown to the older army 
 in times of peace; the soldiers' pay, food and clothing are 
 better, and the discipline is less strict. I have visted a number 
 of home garrisons and those in Honolulu and Manila, in all 
 of which I found the quarters comfortable, clean and sanitary. 
 There are libraries, schools and club-rooms ; and separate beds 
 with sheets and pillows are provided for each soldier, a luxury 
 formerly unheard of in garrisons. I have seen British soldiers 
 serving in India and those of other nations on foreign service 
 
 351 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 in various parts of the world; but I think the American sol- 
 diers now receive better care and more liberal treatment than 
 those of other nations. It has always been a soldier's habit and 
 privilege to grumble. I suppose there is as much grumbling 
 to-day in the army as there was in former times. 
 
 AUGUSTUS MEYERS, 
 Sergeant, Second U. S. Infantry. 
 
 November 17, 1913. 
 
 352 
 
ADDENDA. 
 
 On a recent tour of the northwestern states I visited Sioux City. 
 There, in September, 1913, I found a large and prosperous city with 
 many fine buildings, where there had been only a wilderness in 1855. 
 The riverfront was unrecognizable to me. The early houses that once 
 clustered there had been replaced by a railroad yard. 
 
 I had the good fortune to meet Mr. J. M. Pinkney, a congenial 
 business man who had lived in Sioux City almost from its foundation. 
 He was well informed and we had a long and interesting conversation 
 about the early days when the city was a mere frontier settlement. 
 Mr. Pinkney introduced me at the office of the Sioux City Journal 
 where I was courteously received. I found the Journal to be a large 
 up-to-date newspaper such as one would expect to find only in a great 
 metropolis. 
 
 I was seized with a strong desire to revisit Fort Pierre, although I 
 had no pleasant recollections of it. To me it brought only thoughts of 
 suffering. I left Sioux City on a late night train and arrived at Pierre, 
 the capital of South Dakota, in the middle of the next afternoon. 
 Pierre, built mainly on hills overlooking the Missouri River, is a city 
 of only about three thousand inhabitants, but boasts a large and 
 magnificent capital building surpassed by few in the western states. 
 There is also a modern fire-proof hotel, a government post office, a 
 Carnegie library and other buildings worthy of note. A substantial 
 railroad bridge crosses the Missouri. 
 
 The smaller town of Fort Pierre, the county seat of Stanley County, 
 South Dakota, is directly opposite on the west bank of the river. A 
 small motorboat makes hourly ferry trips, communication by way of 
 the railroad bridge being infrequent. 
 
 I boarded the motorboat next morning, September eighth, to go to 
 Fort Pierre, where I had arrived fifty-eight years ago in the same month. 
 I found the Missouri River just as muddy and treacherous for navi- 
 gation as of yore. A large sandbar made a long detour necessary to 
 reach the channel on the western side of it. The boat ran aground 
 several times, and finally it was caught so hard and fast that we had 
 to wait for the other ferry to haul us off on its return trip. 
 
 There were two other passengers on the boat beside myself, one 
 a white citizen and the other a full blooded young Sioux who had 
 been educated at Carlisle School. I learned from them that the old 
 stockade fort no longer existed. It had been a few miles further up the 
 
 353 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 river, but they could not tell me its exact location. They offered to 
 take me to the office of Mr. Stanley Philip, the owner of a large ranch 
 near the site of the fort. Mr. Philip was out, but they introduced me 
 to Mr. C. H. Fales, a prominent business man of the town, who kindly 
 volunteered to show me the site of the old fort. 
 
 As we were preparing to start, Mr. Philip arrived in an automobile 
 and invited both of us to go to the place in his machine. He soon set 
 us down at the site of the old stockade about two and one-half miles 
 up the river. Not a stick remained of the old fort. It had left no mark 
 save a depression in the ground where a cellar had been. I recog- 
 nized the contour of the low hills on the west and of the higher hills 
 across the river. There was the same bleak prairie extending back to 
 the foothills with its colonies of barking prairie dogs, who appeared 
 to me to be somewhat bolder than of old. 
 
 The Indian burial place had disappeared, but the island in the river 
 below the fort was still there. The most noticeable change was in the 
 river front. The channel was much further out, and a wide strip 
 of bottom land, covered with willows and brush, had formed at what 
 was once an abrupt bank. As I gazed upon this changed scene, I 
 thought of the time when I had seen the plain dotted with the tepees 
 of thousands of Indians who had assembled at that very spot to sign 
 a treaty with General Harney. 
 
 After a while we went about a mile up the river to Mr. Philip's 
 large ranch where he has thirteen thousand acres fenced in for a 
 buffalo preserve. There are more than three hundred of the animals 
 roaming at large among the hills and the number is being increased by 
 the annual addition of some dozens of calves. 
 
 Much of the ranch on the high bottom lands along the shore of 
 the Missouri is under cultivation and is yielding good crops. All this 
 great estate I had seen as a wilderness that I was glad to get away 
 from. In those days I would not have taken the whole county as a 
 gift had I been required to live there. Mr. Philip, who manages his 
 own ranch, is a young man. His father, a Scotchman, lately deceased, 
 was one of the early settlers and accumulated the property. 
 
 On the way back to Fort Pierre, which is a neat little town of about 
 one thousand people, with wide streets and cement sidewalks, my 
 companions told of the discovery on February 17, 1913, of a lead plate 
 on a hill back of the town, where it had been buried by French ex- 
 plorers in 1743. It is now the property of Mr. William O'Reilly, a 
 resident of Fort Pierre. Mr. O'Reilly kindly presented me with a 
 photograph of the plate and a translation of its inscription. He also 
 took me to the bank where it is kept in a safe deposit vault and 
 allowed me to examine it carefully. It is of thick sheet lead about 
 six by seven inches in dimensions and but little corroded. On one side 
 is the seal of France above an inscription in Latin. Both are deeply 
 
 354 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 stamped in the lead and quite legible. A translation of the inscrption 
 follows : 
 
 In the twenty-sixth year of Louis XV's reign, in the name 
 of the King, most illustrious sovereign, for the Governor, 
 Marquis of Beauharnis, in 1743 Peter Gaultier de la Verendrie 
 deposited this plate. 
 
 On the reverse side is scratched rather irregularly the following 
 inscription in French : 
 
 Deposited by the Chevalier of Laverdendried (Witnesses) 
 Louis La Louette, A. Miotte. April 30, 1743. 
 
 In a Fort Pierre book store I was able to procure "A Brief History 
 of South Dakota," written in 1905 by Doane Robinson, Secretary of 
 the State Historical Society. In this interesting book Mr. Robinson 
 says: 
 
 "The first white man that we know certainly to have visited South 
 Dakota was a young man named Verendrye (de la Verendrie on the 
 plate), in the year of 1743. He claimed the land for the King of 
 France, and on a hill near the camp planted a plate engraved with the 
 arms of France and marked the spot with a pile of stones. To unearth 
 that plate would be a rich find for some enterprising young South 
 Dakotan. Taking into account the direction traveled and the time spent 
 in making the trip, it is most likely that this plate rests within fifty 
 miles of the state capitol." 
 
 The book contains many items of special interest to me. On one of 
 the maps is shown the location of the winter cantonments of "Harney's 
 troops in 1856." There is a good picture of "Old Fort Pierre in 1855 
 and vicinity," also a ground plan of the fort drawn to scale, showing 
 all of the buildings within it. This plan shows the fort to have been 
 three hundred by two hundred and fifty feet square, somewhat larger 
 than I judged it to be from memory. The names of some Indian chiefs 
 and their pictures printed in the book bring the originals back to my 
 thoughts. 
 
 In the afternoon I bade farewell to the two gentlemen who had been 
 so courteous to me. I was the only passenger on the ferry when the 
 boatman vainly tried to make her start. He finally went up the street 
 to get some dry batteries and returned with another man. They 
 installed new batteries and took much of the machinery apart and 
 put it together again. Still the boat refused to budge. Nearly an 
 hour had been lost and I was beginning to get apprehensive about 
 catching my train, when another boat arrived from the east shore. 
 The boatman aboard her soon found what the trouble was and we 
 started for the other side which we reached without mishap save 
 grounding twice on the sandbar. 
 
 355 
 
TEN YEARS IN THE RANKS U.S. ARMY 
 
 A reporter of a local paper caught me there, but I had time to give 
 him only a very short interview. I caught the train for the east with 
 little time to spare. A state fair was being held at Huron, S. D., 
 four hours' ride from Pierre, and many persons got on at the inter- 
 mediate stations. Among them were a few Indians and their squaws. 
 To see an Indian mount the steps of a car, carrying a suitcase, seemed 
 extraordinary to me. Surely the Indian as I knew him no longer 
 exists. 
 
 356 
 
o