Army life : a private's reminiscences of the Civil War

Preface

Many volumes have been published in regard to the late Civil War in America. By these the nation is made familiar with the movements of our armies, and the results of those great military campaigns. These volumes have been written by civilians and officers of high rank, and consequently the story of the private soldier's life has never been told.

That life was made up of events and surrounded by circumstances of the most interesting character. Not interesting to the soldier alone, but of interest to his friends, and all who enjoy the fruits of victory purchased by his sacrifices and patriotism.

It was to supply, to a limited extent, this want so universally felt that the writer consented to furnish " The Sketches of Army Life " for the Republican Journal, of Belfast, Maine. The officers had spoken, but this was a voice from the ranks.

Through the kindness of its editors, the Republican Journal bore the utterances of that voice to thousands of American homes. Other papers generally assisted in the movement, and gave the " Army Sketches " a circulation that the writer never dared to hope they would obtain. From the homes thus reached, there has come forth such a demand to have the Sketches preserved in permanent book form, that the writer

4 PREFACE.

has consented (by thoroughly revising the articles already published, and adding much new material), to make the book of which this is a preface.

It is the author's design to give a truthful representation of the marches, skirmishes, battles, associations, and camp-life of the private soldier.

"While the narration of events here recorded 'will furnish a complete history of the Twentieth Maine Regiment, it will also be a volume designed to interest all classes of readers.

Hoping that its contents will inspire each reader to an intense loyalty for the country, and a greater affection for its defenders, this book is submitted to the public.

T. G.

Buckspobt, Me., April, 1882.

Introduction

The story of " The War " has been often told, but such were the magnitude and immense extent of the operations that every successive account of it adds much of interest that had been left untold. But while this book is no exception to the rule just stated, it has one peculiarity not found in any of its predecessors. Hitherto the story has been told only by officers, or parties not actually engaged in the military operations, but, so far as I know, this work of Mr. Gerrish is the first from the standpoint of a private.

Considering the vast number represented by the author, it is quite remarkable that, within the twenty-one years since the war began, no one has, heretofore, attempted to tell the experiences, sufferings, and noble exploits of the men who enabled their officers to gain an undying fame, and whose patient endurance, unwavering patriotism, and unsurpassed heroism, saved the union of the States, demonstrated that the United States is a Nation, and not a mere Confederation, and rescued from its sorest peril the Republican form of government.

8 INTBODTTCTION.

Those of us who were in active life during the war, by personal communication with the soldiers themselves, learned much of what came within their own experience and observation ; but the generation which is coming upon the stage, and those which shall succeed it, must depend upon what has been' or shall hereafter be, written. But the time within which these reminiscences can be written by those actually engaged in the war, is rapidly passing away ; and the day will soon come when all which has not been made a matter of record, will be found only in the domain of uncertain and unreliable tradition.

The number, too, of those who knew the events of the war, as they transpired, is already less than that of those who must learn those events from history. We, who have the daily bulletins of that terrible struggle indelibly stamped upon our memory, can scarcely realize that even now more than one-half of the community have learned the details of the contest, as we learned those of the War for Independence.

While, therefore, all will find much that is new, and very interesting in this book, it is an acquisition exceedingly valuable to those who must look to such a source in order to learn the routine of a private sol dier's life in the War for the Union.

Of the manner in which the author has performed

INTRODUCTIOH. 9

his undertaking, it is not necessary to speak, for, whoever begins to read this work, will certainly not be content to lay it aside until the last page has been completed But one circumstance connected with its preparation should not be overlooked. It was first mainly published as newspaper articles, and read by hundreds who participated in the events of which Mr. Gerrish has written. If there were any material errors in his statements, they would have been challenged at once by those properly jealous of their own reputation, and that of their officers ; so that the author has really had the advantage of the criticism and indorsement of very many, equally as familiar with the facts as himself, and, on that account, his history may be taken as unusually reliable.

In another respect, for the purposes of this work, the author is fortunate. His regiment participated in so many of the great and decisive battles of the war that his field of experience was quite exceptionally broad.

I most earnestly commend this book to all who love their country, and have faith in a government by the people. While we will not detract one iota from the credit due to the great heroes of the war, who led our forces to final victory, we must not allow the brightness of their glory to eclipse that of

10 INTBODUCTION.

our soldiers, who were ready to follow wherever they were ready to lead. That we have a country, and a government by the people, is due to both officers and soldiers. Let each have their meed of honor, and let their glorious deeds, without discrimination, be kept alive in the memory of their countrymen.

J. H. D.

EEMINISCENCES OF THE WAE.

Chapter I. From Portland To Antietam

On the second day of September, 1862, a regiment of uniformed, but unarmed men, marched from Camp Mason, near Portland, Maine, to the railroad depot, from whence it proceeded by rail to the city of Boston. The regiment numbered "a thousand strong"; and as we marched through the streets of Boston, the sidewalks were covered with people who were eagerly looking at us.

"Where are you from?" bawled an old salt, who stood leaning his back against a lamp-post. " From the land of spi'uee gum and buckwheat cakes," loudly responded a brawny backwoodsman fresh from the forests of his native state. A loud laugh rang out from the crowd. One gentleman swung his hat, and proposed "three cheers for the old pine tree state." Hip, Hip, Hip, and a rousing volley of cheers ran along the street for many blocks.

We soon reached the wharf, where we embarked on board the United States transport "Merrimac," a huge steamer of some three thousand tons burden.

We quickly proceeded to our new quarters " between decks," but had barely time to stow our knapsacks away in the rough berths, before we heard the sound of music and loud cheering upon the wharf, and the 36th Massachusetts regiment, a gallant body of men, twelve hundred in number, marched on board the Merrimac, and shared our quarters with us. The two regiments numbered some twent}r-two hundred men, and occupied every square foot of space that the steamer afforded.

Preparations for departure were rapidly made, and soon the plank was pulled in, the lines were cast off, the great engine began to throb with a fiery life, and we glided clown the harbor, — I knew not where.

With moist eyes and heart strangely throbbing, I stood in the midst of the crowd pressed against the steamer's rail, and looked toward the city, now fast receding from view, but I saw not the countless domes and spires of the great town. I did not notice the great business blocks, and heard not the rush and hum of traffic that fell upon my ear like the music of a distant waterfall. I was thinking of home, and seemed to see, like a picture on the distant sky, a great forest, a small clearing on the hillside, a little cottage home, and a circle of dear friends as they stood with tearful eyes to say good-by, as I thus took my departure from home. A sickly sensation came creeping over my heart, a great lump gathered in my throat, but just at that moment a sergeant, who sat on a huge pile of baggage, began to read a paper just purchased in the city : it contained

the condensed telegrams of the preceding week

telegrams that had sent mourning and consternation all through the loyal North. " McClellan's retreat from the peninsula." '• Major General John Pope

REMIHISCEKCES OF THE WAR. 15

assumes command of the Army." " His headquarters are to be in the saddle." " A terrible battle has been fought on the old battle-field of Bull Run, in which the union forces have been disastrously defeated." " A terrific encounter between the right of Pope's army and Stonewall Jackson at Chantilly, twenty miles from Washington, in which the Unionists are defeated." " General Stevens and brave Phil Kearney are among the slain." "Lee still advancing." "Washington is in danger." " The war to be transferred to Northern soil."

It would be difficult to describe the emotions of the listeners as the neAvs was read. Each man comprehended the fearful situation of the army we were hastening to reinforce, but not a cheek grew pale at the thought of coming danger. A son of the old Bay State, from the hills of Berkshire, climbed up in the rigging of the steamer, and proposed three cheers for " Old Abe," and at least a thousand voices responded to the call. Three more were given for " Little Mac," and then three times three for the "red, white and blue." Men cheered until they were hoarse, the air was filled with flying caps, and the good steamer Merrimac shook from truck to keel.

Thus began my first voyage on the ocean. Everything was new and exciting to my boyish vision. The steamer's space between the decks had been filled with rude bunks, and in these we were stowed until every square foot of space was occupied, and then hundreds of men were obliged to remain on deck.

The first night was one of unnecessary alarm. Several rumors were flying. " The lower hold was said to be filled with powder and munitions of war." "And one of the Confederate privateers had been seen cruising in the vicinity within a short time. If we came in contact with her, we would be all captured, or blown to the stars, by their firing a shell into the magazine under our feet." " Some wondered what we should do if the steamer should strike a rock and go down." And thus the hours pass. The steamer rolls in the swells of the ocean. There is the sickening and monotonous roar of the machinery, and the tramp of feet overhead.

The atmosphere grows thick and foul ; sleep refuses to come to my relief. At last all is still save the rumble of machinery, and the ceaseless lapping of the waves against the sides of the steamer. All are sleeping ; suddenly there is a fearful crash. Fifty voices shout, "She has struck a rock." Fifteen hundred men spring from their bunks, and witli a mighty surge rush for the gangway. The panic is terrible. Men push, swear, crowd, strike, and rush on, but to our horror the hatch is fastened down, and there is no escape. Then some one for the first time discovers the cause of the alarm. The boat has not struck a rock, but a long tier of bunks insecurely fastened had fallen upon the tiers below, and all had gone down together.

A general laugh followed this discovery, all declaring they had not been frightened in the least, and we returned to our bunks wiser, and I trust, braver men.

Thus days and nights passed ; the weather was beautiful, and the ocean like a sea of glass.

Through the days, we studied the ever-changing sea, dotted here and there with snowy sails. We watched the flight of birds, and the playing of the fish. At night we would dream of home and friends, or of the scenes of carnage toward which we were hastening.

On the morning of September 7th our steamer drew up to a wharf at the city of Alexandria, Virginia, seven miles below Washington. At this point the Potomac river is a mile in width, and in the harbor of Alexandria the largest vessels can find anchorage.

The landing was made ; our regiment disembarked, and stood for the first time upon the " sacred soil of Virginia."'

Alexandria was a city of some twelve thousand inhabitants at the breaking out of the rebellion, and was of considerable commercial importance. At this time it was occupied by a small Union force, and the " stars and stripes " were flying from the public buildings.

We were to remain for a short time, and went forth to make our first visit in a southern town. Darkies, dirt, and demoralization met the eye in every direction. There were but few places of interest to visit, and the most important of these was the " Marshall House,'' from which Colonel E. E. Ellsworth removed the secession flag, on the 24th of May, 1861. We climbed to the roof from which the flag had been torn, and stood on the stairs where the blood of the brave patriotic colonel had mingled with that of the disloyal Jackson.

As we stood on the stairs, and cut small pieces of wood from them, to bear away as relics, we seemed to draw an inspiration from the memory of the brilliant soldier who there gave his life to his country.

At night we encamped near the city. Our blankets were unrolled, and we lay down to rest. The air was balmy and scented with southern mint. We were weary with the excitement of the past week. God's stars twinkled overhead as if to assure us of his protection and care. Amidst the falling shower of mist and dew we passed our first night on southern soil. At sunrise the reveille awakens us. Breakfast is eaten, and we embark on board a small steamer for Washington.

The capital of our country in 1862 but little resembled the capital of to-day.

It was the Sabbath day when we entered the city. At home it had been a day of quiet rest, or delightful worship. How strange the surroundings seemed to us as Ave marched along the streets of Washington. Every one was excited over the recent defeats suffered by the Union army, and the rapid advance of General Lee.

The demoralization of war was visible on every hand. Regiments of soldiers filled the squares, squadrons of cavalry were dashing along the streets, batteries of artillery, long lines of baggage wagons and ambulances were seen in every direction. We marched to the United States Arsenal, and here everything reminded us of war. Great piles of dismounted cannon looked grimly upon us, stacks of shot and shells surrounded them, the building itself was packed with fire-arms of every design, from the old flintlock musket of continental times to the rifle of most modern make. Our regiment was equipped and armed with Enfield rifles, and there was dealt out to each man forty rounds of ammunition. We now supposed we were model soldiers, and marched proudly away. That night we encamped near the arsenal grounds.

On the 8th we were assigned to Butterfield's famous " Light Brigade," "Morrell's Division," "Porter's Corps," and late in the afternoon of that day, by the way of the long bridge, we marched to Fort Craig, on Arlington heights, to join our brigade.

It was a most ludicrous march. We had never been drilled, and we felt that our reputation was at stake. An untrained drum corps furnished us with music ; each musician kept different time, and each man in the regiment took a different step. Old soldiers sneered ; the people laughed and cheered ; we marched, ran, walked, galloped, and stood still, in our vain endeavors to keep step. We reached our destination, joined the brigade, stacked our arms, and encamped for the night. We were now a part of the army of the Potomac.

The brigade which we joined was composed of the Twelfth, Seventeenth, and Forty-fourth New York regiments, Eighty-third Pennsylvania, and Sixteenth Michigan. The army was greatly excited over the grave situation of affairs, and the soldiers were loudly rejoicing over the fact that General McClellan had again assumed command of the army.

We remained on Arlington heights until the 12th of September. The situation daily grew more serious and alarming. General Lee had advanced with great rapidity, and with a large army had crossed the Potomac river, and invaded Maryland, while another portion of his army, under the irresistible "Stonewall Jackson," was reported as moving swiftly toward Harper's Ferry, intending to crush and capture the Union forces of Colonel Miles, and then rejoin the main rebel army under General Lee.

On the 11th we received marching orders. A large portion of the army had already entered Maryland, and were in hot pursuit of the rebels.

Through the entire night we could hear the steady tramp of infantry, the rattle of cavalry, and the heavy rumble of passing artillery.

Early on the morning of the 12th our brigade was in line ; it was a novel scene upon which we looked ; long lines of blue-clad men were moving down over the slopes of Arlington, and crossing the Potomac river to Maryland. Bands were playing, bugles blowing, drums beating, and orderlies were dashing to and fro. Division and brigade commanders, surrounded by their staff officers, were moving rapidly to the front. Our brigade soon formed a part of the moving column, and we thus entered upon a forced march through " Maryland, my Maryland."

At first the novelty of our situation made marching very easy work, but this was soon worn off, and we began to learn the hardships of a forced march.

No pen can describe the sufferings and physical exhaustion of an army of infantry marching thirty miles a day, and no one but a person who has looked upon such a scene can form an opinion of the true situation.

My readers have all read the brilliant description given by army correspondents, of soldiers upon a march, and you have looked upon pictures portraying the same, and have admired the well-dressed lines and solid columns. Each man perfectly erect, and measuring just so many inches of space at each step, his gun carried in just such a position, his knapsack and all equipments in perfect order ; and you have wondered how drill and discipline could transform men into machines in so short a space of time. These things look well on paper, but they only exist in the brilliant imaginations of the correspondents.

Let us for a brief time review a passing column of the " old army of the Potomac."

On the crest of this hill we will have an excellent outlook, and obtain a fine view of the situation. The sun is swiftly rolling down the western skies, mantled in fleecy clouds of gold. The vision can extend for miles in almost any direction, far out over broad acres of meadow land, up over rich, fertile hillsides, over great farms, magnificent orchards, bending low under their burden of golden fruit, and far in the distance you see Frederick City, said to be in possession of the enemy, and beyond are the heights of South Mountain, where he is intrenched.

The advanced lines of the two armies are now near each other, and there must soon be a battle.

Now we will look at these passing troops : first eomes a few squadrons of cavalry, brave, sunburned fellows, covered with dust, Each man sits so naturally upon his horse that we almost imagine them to be one. The distinctive color of the cavalry is yellow. You will notice yellow stripes and straps upon the uniforms of officers and men.

Each man is armed with a saber, a breech-loading carbine, and a huge navy revolver. Men and horses are worn and jaded by long marches, but are dashing at a rapid pace to the front. They are followed by a battery of artillery. The artillery color is red, red straps and chevrons upon uniforms of dark blue. There are six twelve-pound guns in this battery. Each gun is drawn by three pairs of horses, and after each gun follows a caisson, or ammunition wagon, also drawn by six horses. Each pair of horses, upon both guns and caissons, have a single rider.

All battery officers, both commissioned and non-commissioned, are mounted on horses, while the men ride on guns and caissons as best they can. The commands of the commanding officer are all given to a bugler by his side, who repeats them in bugle calls. Each man and horse understands the orders thus given. When a battery goes into action, it advances at a sharp gallop, as nearly as possible to the position it wishes to occupy. The horses are then detached, and sent a short distance to the rear. The men seize the guns, and run them into position. Each caisson is stationed directly in rear of its respective gun. Every man has his position, and knows what work he has to do.

They are so well trained that in the most terrible battle there is no confusion, and everything moves like clockwork.

Closely following the artillery is a column of infantry, winding like a great serpent along the dusty road.

I will tell you something of the organization of the army of the Potomac, and how you can easily distinguish one portion from another. The army is divided into what is known as " Army corps," each corps being numbered, and having a peculiar mark or badge by which it can be recognized from either of the others.

The badge worn by the First corps was a globe. This badge was placed upon the corps flags, and also upon the uniforms of the men. The badge of the Second corps was a clover leaf, or club, that of the Third corps, a diamond, that of the Fifth corps, a Maltese cross, that of the Sixth, a Roman cross, and that of the Eleventh, a crescent. Each corps was divided into three divisions. These are distinguished from each other by the color of the corps badges just referred to. The first division is always red, the second white, and the third blue.

Each division is usually divided into three brigades, and these are distinguished from each other by the color of their corps badge and the border of the brigade flag. The latter is a small triangular flag. The corps badge with division color will be in the center. If it is the first brigade, one side of the flag will have a heavy border of opposite color from the flag ; if the second brigade, two sides will be thus distinguished; if the third, then the border

24 KEMINISCENCES OF THE WAU.

will extend around the entire flag. Each brigade is composed of an indefinite number of regiments, depending much upon their size. Look at that passim bri-ade; it has a small white, triangular flag, a dark blue border extending around the entire field, and a red Maltese cross in the center. It is the Third brigade, First division, Fifth Army corps ; in the army it is known as " Butterfield's Light Brigrade,"' so called in honor of its late gallant Commander General Daniel Butterfield, who at this time is filling another position.

That short, thick, gray-haired man in a colonel's uniform, at the head of the brigade, is Colonel Stockton, of the Sixteenth Michigan regiment, now in command of the brigade.

That first regiment in Zouave uniform is the Forty-fourth New York, or the " Ellsworth Avengers,"' as they are called. The next is the Twelfth and the Seventeenth New York regiments, and then the Eighty-third Pennsylvania, followed by the Sixteenth Michigan.

These regiments were all mustered in 1861, and are fresh from the peninsula campaign, and the more recent battle-fields of Bull Run and Chantilly, where they have displayed great bravery. The last regiment in the brigade is clad in a new uniform, and has nearly as many men as the rest of the brigade. It is a new regiment, and this is their first march. The colonel is every inch a soldier. He is well mounted, and his eyes flash as brightly as the silver eagles upon his shoulders. That is Colonel Adelbert Ames, a graduate of West Point, and a soldier of the regular army. He was severely wounded at the first battle of Bull Run, is a native of Rockland, Maine, and one of the bravest officers in the army. That tall, scholarly officer, riding by his side, is Lieut.-Colonel Chamberlain, late a professor in Bowdoin College: he has made an excellent record in the field of letters, and will undoubtedly distinguish himself upon the field of battle. The regiment is the Twentieth Maine, and the same whose movements I traced in the beginning of this chapter.

But look at the men of which the brigade is composed, and they are only a sample of the entire army. It is "rout-step and arms-at-will." The ranks are in disorder, and nearly every file is broken. Every man is for himself; many have fallen out from the ranks ; others are footsore and exhausted, — see them limp and reel and stagger as they endeavor to keep up with their regiments. These men were doubtless acquainted with fatigue before they entered the army, but this fearful strain in marching so many miles, in heavy marching order, for successive days, is too much for them. Brave, strong men fall fainting by the wayside, and will never see their regiment again. They had hoped to defend the old flag on the battle-field, but that is denied them ; and far back in the rear of regiments and brigades, is a legion of stragglers, sick, lame, discouraged, cowardly, all grades mixed in hopeless confusion. Some are there from choice; they enlisted only to secure the pay and bount}^, and are determined to "play out" as quickly as possible; others, brave and ambitious, are mortified because they are not able to keep up with their regiments.

The first class will crawl into the barns and outbuildings to sleep and escape the "Provost Guard."' The others will tramp painfully on all night long, and perhaps overtake their comrades in season to begin with them to-morrow's march. It is a sad spectacle upon which we look, and all caused by the sinfulness of men.

But still the steel-crowned column surges on like the links of an endless chain.

Our line of march lay through the beautiful town of Frederick City, that nestled like a gem amidst the great green hills of Maryland. Its inhabitants had passed through a strange experience that week, as the two hostile armies had passed back and forth through its streets.

" Stonewall Jackson," fresh from the siege of Harper's Ferry, was reported to have been in command of the forces that held the town for several days. The larger portion of its inhabitants, like so many of the people of Maryland, were undoubtedly in active sympathy with the rebels, and rejoiced in all the successes they had gained. They had given the rebels a warm reception, but when we passed through in pursuit, they met us with frowns and angry words. A few were loyal to the union, and among these was old "Barbara Frietchie," whose Spartan-like devotion to the old flag has been immortalized in the poem of Whittier.

There was intense excitement in the town, as we passed through ; our troops had driven the enemy

KEMIXISCENCES OF THE WAE. 27

from his intrenched position at South Mountain, after a desperate struggle, and had followed him through Sharpsburg to Antietam creek. The houses and yards were filled with the wounded soldiers who had been brought back from the field of battle. We were pushed rapidly forward, and soon began to see signs of the late conflict. A large squad of prisoners were being brought to the rear — the first live u Johnnies " our regiment ever saw ; they were tall, lank, slouchy looking fellows, clad in dirty gray uniforms. We soon came to where the earth had been torn up by exploding shells, buildings were riddled through and through with shot, and trees were torn and twisted by flying missiles. We marched over the field and up the hillside where our troops had fought. Every house and barn was filled with the wounded ; fresh mounds on the hillsides told where our dead had been buried.

Surgeons with sleeves rolled to their shoulders were busily at work around the rough tables they had hastily constructed. Legs and arms were being amputated by dozens, and the poor groaning victims upon the tables were objects of pity. Squads of men were at work caring for the wounded and burying the amputated limbs. It all looked cruel and bloody to us who were unused to such scenes.