Cavalry life in tent and field

Front matter

*b v*

TENT AND FIELD

MRS. ORSEMUS BRONSON BOYD

Preface

from her side, that he might accompany his boys. He could not endure the thought of his youthful sons departing for the scenes of such dangers without his sheltering presence.

By what means Mrs. Boyd was induced to consent to her husband's enlistment can only be understood by those who recall the loyal sentiments expressed by women in 1861. Oar country was then aglow with patriotism. As in the South women gave their nearest and dearest to the cause, so. in the North they were bereft of fathers, husbands, sons and brothers. In the little town of Croton every family sent at least one representative to the army, and many waved adieu to all its male members. This left to women the severe tasks of cultivating farms and rearing families.

The young stepmother of the lads in question not only lent her husband to his country, but during the entire three years of his absence tilled and tended the farm, and so well, that on his return it had not only improved in appearance, but also increased in value.

It requires little imagination to picture the sad parting when father and sons, after having enlisted in the Eighty-ninth Regiment New York Volunteers, left the quiet little village to join the army.

The younger son was not at first permitted to act as a soldier on account of his youth. Allowed to carry the flag at the head of the command, his bravery and boldness caused his father incessant anxiet} T . At the battle of Camden, when the second color bearer fell, our young hero seized his flag and carried that also until the dose of battle. For such an act of bravery General Burnside summoned him to headquarters, and sent him home on recruiting service.

Prior to this young Boyd had been with Burnside's expedition off Cape Hatteras, where for twenty-six days the soldiers had lain outside, shipwrecked, and obliged to subsist on raw rice alone, as no fires could be built. When they finally landed on Roanoke Island our young lads were jubilant.

Orsemus took an active part in raising the One Hundred and Forty-fourth New York Volunteers, and for numberless acts of bravery was commissioned second lieutenant of Company D, September, 1862. By reason of the senior officers' absence he was for months, though but eighteen years of age, in command of a company of soldiers in which his father and elder brother were enlisted men. Perhaps no incident, even in those stirring war times, was more unusual.

The young lieutenant's father spent much time and effort in endeavoring to restrain his young son's ardor and ambition, which if unchecked would no doubt have resulted either in rapid promotion or an early grave. The lad knew no fear, and was always in the front of battle. His name was again and again mentioned in "General Orders" for "meritorious conduct."

Sadder than their home leaving was the return, two years later, of father and youngest boy, who went back to lay the remains of their eldest son and brother in the grave beside his mother. Amos had served his country well, and met the fate of many other brave soldiers.

In addition to this sorrow the father constantly feared lest his second son should also experience a soldier's death ; and while the father's heart glowed with pride at the encomiums lavished upon his boy's bravery, and the merited rewards it had already received, yet the fear of losing him was strongest, and at that home coming a compromise was effected.

The member of Congress from their district, desirous of finding an acceptable appointee to West Point, chose the gallant young lieutenant, who unwillingly accepted. Two years of active service had proved his essential fitness for the profession of arms.

With a heart burdened with sorrow, and yet not entirely hopeless, the father of two brave sons returned alone to his regiment, and finished three years of service with our noble Army of the Potomac.

Orsemus Boyd entered West Point in June, 1863, after having spent a short time in preparation. No doubt his years of service at the front had given the lad ideas at variance with the whims of those young men who had already passed their first year at the academy.

Any one who has been at West Point knows that a newly appointed cadet, or " plebe " as he is called, is expected not only to bow before his superior officers in the line of duty, but is compelled to endure all slights and snubs that any cadet chooses to impose. In 1863 the discipline in that respect was excessive.

The result, in the case of Mr. Boyd, was that he became unpopular for refusing to submit to many annoyances. The climax was reached when, after having fought with one cadet and come out the victor, he refused — having demonstrated his courage and ability — to fight with another, a man who had criticised the language used in the heat of battle, and was consequently dubbed a coward. This, though exceedingly trying to a person of his sensitive nature, was endured with the same patience as were subsequent trials.

After the furlough year, which comes when the first long two years of cadet life have passed, Mr. Boyd returned to West Point from that most desired leave of absence, with renewed hope and courage. Two months spent in his boyhood's home, cheered and strengthened by the love of many friends, enabled him to go back animated by fullest intentions to ignore all disagreeables and calmly prepare for a life of usefulness. But it was not to be.

Shortly after Mr. Boyd's return he missed sums of money brought from home, but said nothing about it, as he had few confidants and was naturally reticent.

In the same class with Mr. Boyd was a man who had entered West Point at the avowed age of twenty-five, though undoubtedly much older, as his appearance indicated. During war time the extreme of age for admission there, which before and since was and is limited to twenty-two years, had been extended to twenty-five. This was done in order to permit young men who had achieved distinction in real warfare the opportunity of acquiring a military education. So this man, named Casey, had entered at the acknowledged age of twenty-five.

He was absolutely impecunious, and belonged to an Irish family in very humble circumstances. Mr. Boyd's parents, whose ancestors had fought in the Revolutionary War, were of pure and unadulterated American origin. Yet the superior age and cunning of the elder man unfitted the younger to cope with him. Always open and above board, Mr. Boyd neither knew nor expected tricks of any kind, and hence was not prepared to meet them.

Mr. Casey was compelled to procure money at all hazards. Before entering West Point he had married. That fact, if known, would have dismissed him at once from the academy, in accordance with the laws governing that institution, which permit no cadet to marry. It therefore became the object of Casey's life to conceal all knowledge of that which, if known, would have proved a potent factor in his downfall. Consumed with ambition and the desire to reach distinction in every social way, he assiduously cultivated the acquaintance of all cadets who could in any manner help him upward.

In the academy at that time were several cadets, sons of very wealthy parents, who, contrary to West Point rules, kept in their rooms at barracks large sums of money. That was Casey's opportunity, for he had constant need of it with which to silence the wife who had threatened his exposure. So great was the confidence of the academy classmates in each other that the money was simply placed in a trunk, to which all the clique had free access, and used as a general fund.

Government supplies cadets with all necessary articles, therefore only luxuries need be purchased, and the limit of these is much reduced by the absence of stores. So even to those generous young men the disappearance of money in large sums became puzzling, and led to inquiries which developed into suspicions, and a plan was formed to mark some of the bills, and thus discover the evil-doer. Mr. Boyd, by reason of his unpopularity, was unaware of these movements, and he had told no one of his own losses.

The cadets had informed their immediate commandant that money was constantly being stolen in the corps. Aghast at such a state of affairs, he had authorized and selected a committee of eight — two from among the eldest members of each company — to find and punish the thief. In an unguarded moment the commandant had said:

" If you find the offender, you can deal with him as you deem advisable."

The most prominent member of the committee was Casey, himself the real culprit. After a perfunctory search through quarters occupied by other cadets, they reached Mr. Boyd's, and found nothing to reward their efforts. At that juncture Casey glanced upward at a pile of books lying on some shelves, and said :

" Let us look in that large dictionary."

None but a crowd of frantic boys could have failed to have observed how promptly he had selected the veritable book in which the money was found, where subsequent events, as well as his dying confession, proved he had himself placed it.

Casey's room, shared with Cadet Hamilton, was directly opposite that occupied by Mr. Boyd, who roomed alone because of his unpopularity. Mr. Boyd's room was so unguarded and accessible, that no doubt Casey had frequently entered it and taken money from the man whom he now accused. Casey had skillfully sought to direct suspicion in every way toward Mr. Boyd. Long had he wielded his baleful influence, to which, though no one had observed it, all had succumbed.

The search took place at noon, when the main body of the corps were at dinner. On Mr. Boyd's return to his room he found it filled with cadets, who madly accused him of the crime. White with horror and shame unspeakable, he answered their charges in a way which would have convinced any judge of human nature that he was entirely innocent. Sinking to his knees, and raising his eyes to heaven, he said:

" By the memory of my dead mother I swear I know nothing whatever of this money! "

To any one who knew the young man's tender, brave soul, and how hallowed was the memory of his mother, that avowal would have sufficed. But it was not an occasion for calm and deliberate judgment. The supposed culprit had at last been found, and he was in the hands of Philistines. No thought of mercy impelled any of those young men to hesitate in their cruelty. With brute force — eight men to one man — they placed Mr. Boyd in confinement until later in the day, when at dress parade they could publicly and brutally disgrace him.

I now quote, from a published account by an eye-witness, the scene which followed :

" It was a cold, sad, lusterless day. The air was full of snow and the cold was bitter. Orders were given to fall into ranks in the area of barracks for undress parade. The cadet adjutant commanded : ; Parade Rest.' After a pause lie continued : ' Cadet captains will place themselves opposite their respective company fronts, and arrest any man who leaves the ranks.'

" There was an interval of the most profound stillness. Then above the wind's howling came the sound of tramping feet. Across the broad, porch of the barracks and down the steps came four cadets, bearing between them a man's form. They advanced along the battalion's front. As they turned, the adjutant raised his right hand, and forthwith the drums and fifes beat and wailed out, in unmelodious and unearthly harmony, the terrible tune of the 'Rogue's March.'

"On they came ; and now I saw affixed to that "man's breast a large white placard, and on it the words : ' Coward ! ' 4 Liar ! ' ' Thief ! ' The face above the words was marble white as the face of the dead, but the wild, staring, blood-red e} r es seemed to wail and shrink in their horrible misery.

" The four cadets passed along the full length of the battalion, and with their victim turned down the slope beyond the buildings and disappeared."

On their way to the South Dock the persecuted man broke away from his accusers, but was warned to " beware " how he " ever set foot again upon West Point," and threatened with yet worse treatment should he do so.

General Cullom was then in command at West Point. On that particular evening he was returning from the direction of the dock toward which those heartless cadets had driven Mr. Boyd, when he met the young man face to face. Amazed at the temerity of a cadet who could boldly face him in civilian's attire, he halted and said :

" What do you mean, sir? Return at once to your quarters ! "

The general's first and most natural thought was that Mr. Boyd had dressed himself in civilian's clothes, and was stealing off the post in search of amusement. But a second glance showed him a face full of grief and shame — a countenance on which utter woe was depicted. He took the young man at once to his own quarters, questioned him, and found to his dismay that the cadets had perpetrated a most unprecedented and cruel outrage.

General Cullom determined then and there that the matter should be sifted to the bottom. Mr. Boyd was to be tried, and proven either guilty or guiltless. His father was sent for, and the son allowed to return home pending the investigation.

What greater sorrow can be imagined than that which then fell upon this sorely stricken family? A young man who had faced the enemy's fire again and again, who had already won his shoulder-straps in the very front of war's alarms, to be charged with petty thievery, untruth, and cowardice! His stepmother said:-

"Had our son been accused of fighting hastily, perhaps too readily, I could have believed him guilty. But for the sake of money Orsemus never could have done wrong."

Mr. Bo} r d had been supplied by his father with all the money he wanted, and at his own request an account kept of it, which showed that before this episode he had spent three hundred dollars — a large sum in a place like West Point, where every need is supplied by government.

The court of inquiry instituted by General Cullom resulted in a verdict of "not guilty." In the eyes of the cadets, whose insensate cruelty had warped their judgment, it was simply a Scotch verdict of " not proven ; " and, though acquitted, the defendant was thenceforth a disgraced and dishonored man.

Mr. Boyd remained at the academy nearly two years longer, until his graduation in June, 1867. During all that time he was completely ostracized, and, with one, or possibly two exceptions, never exchanged one word with any cadet, all of whom regarded him as a coward. But none can contemplate such a life without marveling at its wonderful courage. Mr. Boyd had determined to graduate with honor, and thus show the world that he possessed such bravery as would not allow false charges to ruin his whole career.

I was introduced to him in 1866, and before our meeting had heard the whole story. The first look into his frank and manly countenance made me from that moment his stanch and true advocate. I was then attending school in New York, but finished in July, and we were married in October, three months after Mr. Boyd graduated.

Then began the hardships born of that West Point episode. Of course such bitter and terrible wrongs could not have been done a sensitive man without their affecting his whole life. To this may be attributed Mr. Boyd's desire to go West, and there remain.

It engendered in him a great unwillingness to demand even his just dues ; and when he was ordered to leave California at a day's notice, and given no proper transportation, he submitted without a murmur. As I shared all those hardships, and shall always feel their effects, . I have no hesitancy in saying that I attribute , them all to the West Point wrong and injurj^.

Mr. Boyd could have entered the artillery branch of the service had he not longed to escape all reminders of that terrible experience, and so chose the Eighth Cavalry, which was stationed on the Pacific coast.

The subsequent hardships endured were due not only to the crude state of affairs at the West in those days, but also to the crushed spirit which so much injustice had engendered in my husband. He could not bear to ask favors, and be, perhaps, refused. Mr. Boyd even shrank at first from his fellow-officers. I know that no enlisted man's wife was ever exposed to more or severer perils than was the young school-girl from New York City ; and I consider them the direct result of those sad years at West Point.

Mr. Boyd was always selected in after-years to handle the funds at every post where we were stationed, which distinctly showed how his honor was regarded by men competent to judge. But it resulted in countless expeditions that were both hazardous and expensive. He was sent by General Pope to build Fort Bayard because of his incorruptible honesty ; but to be so constantly changing stations added greatly to our hardships.

" Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the

Lord." A singular evidence of the truth and justice of this text is shown in the meting out to those eight misguided young men of sorrow, misery, and sudden death, which seems to me a return for their attempted sacrifice of the career and honor of a gallant and innocent man. The roll is a terrible one. Casey, after confessing his crime, concealed it, aided and abetted by Hamilton. In less than a year after his apparently honorable graduation, he was shot by one of his own soldiers. Of the remainder, two committed suicide, one was murdered, one butchered by Modoc Indians ; while family sorrow, bankruptcy, and disappointment or untimely death have caused the rest to mournfully regret their early hastiness and error of judgment, and the acts of gross cruelty which sprang therefrom.

The Author.

Chapter I

Whether or not these personal reminiscences will interest the public remains to be determined; for one thing the narrator can vouch, and that is they are not in the least exaggerated. Several army experiences have of late been printed, and when in recounting mine I have often been asked to write them, it was not, as I then thought, for the purpose of publication ; although, as they have been unusual, to say the least, I have been tempted to do so ; and now that the Avhole course of my life has been changed I have reasons for issuing this book which may perhaps plead my excuse should the narrative prove uninteresting to

some.

The army world, though a small one, yet extends over a large amount of territory. My

! experience of it, previous to marriage, consisted in seeing, entirely at its best, beautiful West Point, which I considered a fair type of every army post; so when I married, immediately after his graduation from there, a young second lieutenant, I thought that however far we might travel such a home would always be found at our journey's end.

My husband, previous to his four years at West Point, as narrated in the preface, had been a soldier for two years in the War of the Rebellion, where he had so signalized himself by bravery that friends united in urging his father to remove the lad from the perilous surroundings of active warfare, and permit him to

. be educated in the profession for which he had shown such a decided talent. He was at that time but eighteen years old, and was probably the only man of that age who ever commanded a company in which his father and brother were enlisted men.

Mr. Boyd's previous career causing him to prefer the cavalry branch of the service, application was therefore made for that; so when' appointed he was ordered to San Francisco. Not knowing whence from there he would be sent, as some of the companies of his regiment were in Nevada, some in Arizona, and others in California, it was deemed unwise for me to accompany him, so I remained in New York.

We had been married but two days, and it seemed to me as if San Francisco was as far away as China, particularly as there was then no trans-continental railroad. Besides, I had lived in New York City all my life, and considered it the only habitable place on the globe.

When Mr. Boyd reached San Francisco he was assigned to a station in Nevada, which was so remote, and there appeared to be so little hope for any comfortable habitation, that he wrote me the prospect for my journey was very indefinite.

However, with the hopefulness of youth, he counted on a far more speedy accomplishment of his desires than anything in the nature of the situation seemed to warrant. The troops had been sent, as a sort of advance guard and protective force for the contemplated Pacific Railroad, to a point in the very eastern part of Nevada. The camp was named " Halleck," in honor of General Halleck, and the accommodations were so limited that ladies were hardly needed, except to emphasize the limitations. Although it was well understood that I could not be comfortably logated until summer, yet no second hint was needed when in mid-winter my husband wrote that I might come at least as far as San Francisco.

In the middle of January I left New York on one of the fine steamers of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company. The three weeks en route were delightful, and the change from bleak, cold winter to the tropical scenes of Panama, and thence to the soft and balmy air of the Pacific, was so exhilarating that travel was simply a continuous pleasure.

Upon reaching San Francisco, nothing seemed

CAVALEY LIFE. 31

more natural than that I should press on, in spite of the protestations of friends, who said that the Sierra Nevada Mountains were impassable at that season, and who predicted all sorts of mishaps. Nothing daunted, I determined at least to try, and so took steamer for Sacramento, and from thence train to Cisco, at the foot of the mountains, and the then terminus of the Pacific Railway. After leaving the train we continued our journey on sleds, in the midst of a blinding snowstorm, that compelled us to envelop our heads in blankets.

The snow, however, did not last many miles, and w^e were soon transferred to the regular stage-coach, a large vehicle with thoroughbraces instead of springs, and a roomy interior which suggested comfort. Alas ! only suggested ! Possibly no greater discomfort could have been endured than my companion and self underwent that night. Those old-fashioned stage-coaches for mountain travel were intended to be well filled inside, and well packed outside. But it so happened that instead of the usual full complement of passengers, one other woman and myself were all.

A pen far more expert than mine would be required to do justice to the horrors of that night. Though we had left Cisco at noon, we did not reach Virginia City, on the other side of the mountains, until ten o'clock next morning. As long as daylight lasted we watched in amazement those wonderful mountains, which should have been called "Rocky," for they have enormous precipices and rocky elevations at many points ; from the highest we gazed down into ravines at least fifteen hundred feet below, and shuddered again and again.

One point, called Cape Horn, a bold promontory, is famous, and as great a terror to stagedrivers as is the cape from which it takes its name to navigators. We peered into endless precipices, down which we momentarily expected to be launched, for the seeming recklessness of our driver and extreme narrowness of the roads made such a fate appear imminent.

Our alarm did not permit us to duly appreciate the scenery's magnificent grandeur; besides, every possible effort was required to keep from being tossed about like balls. We did not expect to find ourselves alive in the morning, and passed the entire night holding on to anything that promised stability. An ordinary posture was quite impossible : we had either to brace ourselves by placing both feet against the sides of the vehicle, or seize upon every strap within reach.

Long before morning all devices, except the extreme one of lying flat on the bottom of the coach and resigning ourselves to the inevitable, had failed. Every muscle ached with the strain that had been required to keep from being bruised by the constant bumping, and even then we had by no means escaped.

We had supped at Donner Lake, a beautiful spot in the very heart of the mountains, made famous by the frightful sufferings of the Donner party, which had given the lake its name, and which has been so well described by Bret Harte in " Gabriel Conroy," that a passing mention will suffice. It proved an unfortunate prelude to our eventful night; for in the midst of our own sufferings we were compelled to think of. what might befall us if we, like that ill-fated party, should be left to the mercy of those grand but cruel mountains, which already seemed so relentless in their embrace that although haste meant torture yet we longed to see the last of them.

The bright sun shone high overhead long before we reached Virginia City, where I saw for the first time a real mining town. It is not my purpose to describe what has been so ably done by others, but simply confine myself to personal experiences ; and I will, therefore, merely state that I gladly left Virginia City, knowing that soon after we should emerge from mountain roads, and on level plains be less tortured.

We were not, however, quite prepared for the method that made jolting impossible, and which, being the very extreme of our previous night's journe}^ was almost equally unendurable. On leaving the breakfast-table at Virginia

City, we were greatly surprised to Hi id our coach almost full of passengers; but we climbed in, and for live days and nights were carried onward without the slightest change of any sort. There was* a front and back seat, and between the two a middle one, which faced the back that we occupied. Whenever in the course of the succeeding five days and nights it was needful to move even our feet, we could only do so by asking our vis-d-vls to move his at the same time, as there was not one inch of space unoccupied.

The rough frontiersmen who were our fellowpassengers tried in every way to make our situation more endurable. After we had sat bolt upright for two days and nights, vainly trying to snatch a few moments' sleep, which the constant lurching of the stage rendered impossible, the two men directly facing us proposed, with many apologies, that we should allow them to lay folded blankets on their laps, when, by leaning forward and laying our heads on the rests thus provided,' our weary brains might find some relief. We gratefully assented, only to find, however, that the unnatural position rendered sleep impossible, so decided to bear our hardships as best we could until released by time.

Our only respite was when the stage stopped for refreshments ; but as we experienced all the mishaps consequent upon a journey in mid-winter, such as deep, clinging mud, which made regular progress impossible, we frequently found that meals were conspicuous by their absence ; or we breakfasted at midnight and dined in the early morning. The food was of the sort all frontier travelers have eaten — biscuits almost green witli saleratus, and meats sodden with grease, which disguised their natural flavors so completely that I often wondered what animals of the prairies were represented.

The names of our stopping-places were pretentious to such a degree that days passed before I was able to believe such grand titles could be personated by so little. I also noticed that a particularly forbidding exterior, and

CAVALRY LIFE. S7 interior as well, would be called by the most high sounding name.

Alas for my hopes of escape from mountain travel ! How gladly would I have welcomed some mountains instead of the endless monotony of that prairie ! Nevada is particularly noted for the entire absence of trees, and the presence of a low, uninteresting shrub called sage-brash. It looks exactly as the name indicates, is a dingy sage-green in color, and, with the exception of a bush somewhat darker in hue and called grease-wood because it burns so readily, nothing else could be seen, not only for miles and miles, but day after day, until the weary eye longed for change. At dusk imagination compelled me to regard those countless bushes as flocks of sheep, so similar did they appear in the dim light, and I was unable to divest my mind of that idea during our entire stay in Nevada.