After the Johnnies had got us picks and shovels, we set to work to dig in the frozen earth the trenches which were to contain the men and fragments of men who had given up their lives on the plains in front of Mary's Heights. We put them in rows, one beside the other, wrapped them up in blankets or in whatever else we could get to put around them. There was practically no means of identifying one out of a hundred of them. Thus they lay in unknown graves.

Two long days we worked there tearing a trench in the frozen earth and filling it with the bodies of frozen men, with nothing to eat but what the guards could spare us from their scant rations. Our party buried nine hundred and eighty-seven men.

About sundown, our work being finished, we went down to the river, crossed over and returned to camp. Those days at Fredericksburg were among the most disheartening and most dreadful I have every known. The a.s.sault on Mary's Heights was so ill-advised; the day's picket duty on the field was so nerve-racking; then the two days' work in a half-starved condition, burying the dead, a work so heartrending at best, was enough to upset one's mind if anything could upset it. I do not think there were any desertions from our regiment during the next month or two, but there was a great deal of desertion from the army, and it was not to be wondered at.

There was a general feeling of despondency pervading the Army of the Potomac, the feeling was deep and wide spread. The conviction was general that the men in the ranks were superior in intelligence to the southerners and just as brave, that the army was better disciplined and much better supplied, that what we lacked was leaders, the men were not tired of fighting, but they were tired of being sent to the slaughter by incompetent generals. From what I was able to observe when burying the dead the 18th and 19th, the Rebels were in a happy state of mind, they had full confidence in their leaders, and perfect faith in the success of their cause. With us complaining, scolding and faultfinding, was indulged in by all. Croaking had become as common as eating and showed the moral of the army was depressingly low, and had Lee been the general the South believed him to be he would have taken Washington the summer of 1863. It is reported that there were 8000 men absent without leave. This campaign and the mud campaign that followed it, did one good thing if nothing more, it showed those people at the North who were always complaining and demanding that the army move, how difficult it was to campaign in Virginia during the winter season.

December 20. At about ten o'clock, who should appear in camp but my brother, the a.s.sistant surgeon of the 19th Ma.s.sachusetts. He had come up to see how I had weathered the storm. I took him into my tent and we had a little talk. I told him about the ordeal we had pa.s.sed through, and he related to me his experience and his duties in taking care of the wounded, and how they were not yet all cared for. But he had got away as soon as he could, to come up and see how it had gone with me. After a short time, he seeing I was unhurt, became drowsy, dropped over on my couch and in an instant he was fast asleep. I straightened him out, put my blanket over him and let him sleep. He never moved until ten o'clock in the evening when as taps were sounded I woke him up and he went back to his wounded again.

Doing picket duty down by the river was pretty uncomfortable work the last of December, and the 21st was honored with that kind of duty altogether too often. Sitting or crouching in those rifle pits, always on watch through those long winter nights was pretty tough. One night a lot of the boys broke into the Lacy house, a fine, large mansion that stood a short distance back from the river, and tore a pipe organ to pieces, each man taking a pipe and the next morning when we returned to camp we all played,--perhaps you would call it a tune. It may have been amusing to the mules in the train parks along the way, but judging from the howls that issued from the camps we pa.s.sed, I am not of the opinion that it was appreciated by the men. But it afforded us some amus.e.m.e.nt and what did we care for mules' ears or men's ears, for that matter? If they did not like our music they could stuff cotton-batting in their ears.

A captain of one of the companies was given a furlough about this time and went home for a time. When he returned he wore a brand new coat with shoulder straps of the recruiting officer's size. He marched around the camp with an air of great importance. One day, one of the boys of his company did some little thing not to his liking and that man was tied up by the thumbs. This was so uncalled for and so unjust, it caused a very bitter feeling against the officer throughout the company. Practically every man in the company became his enemy. He realized the existence of this feeling and soon after resigned and went home. It was freely remarked in the regiment that the officer referred to did not dare to go into another fight with that company. And since the war he has never, to my knowledge attended a reunion of the regimental a.s.sociation.

December 22. We were on picket again. The evening of the 23d, there occurred the most important social function of the season. We had a fancy dress ball at the Hotel de Ville, or in other words in the sutler's tent.

All the quality of the regiment was present. The belles of the evening were Miss Huggins, the Widow Blush, Miss Lumpkins, Mrs. Austin and Miss Blinks all of Worcester, Ma.s.s. Miss Blinks wore an elegant wreath of birch leaves. Her gown was red and white, the red being part of a red woolen shirt furnished by one of the friends of the lady. Miss Lumpkins was a beautiful creature, her complexion of dark bronze contrasting finely with the gra.s.s green color of her dress; she wore a wreath made of wheat and white clover blossoms. Miss Huggins, was a little undignified in her actions. Her dress was thought by some to be decidedly low at the top and high at the bottom, however, she pa.s.sed as it was understood that women in high society are expected to make the most of their charms. Her dress was sky blue and her ap.r.o.n an American flag; she wore no corsets, thus her body appeared a little flabby. The lady in whom we all felt the liveliest interest was the widow. She had all the grace and elegance of a duck, her style was simply enchanting. She wore a bright red dress, low-necked, with a white rosette at her belt, with large hoops that bounded around in the most wonderful way. Her extreme modesty was remarked by all the gentlemen; whenever she danced she was the center of attraction. The ball was a strictly private affair, no commissioned officers were allowed to take part. A few newspaper men were invited and enjoyed the fun. They declared that as women have ere this dressed in men's clothes there was no reason the boot should not be put on the other foot. Mrs. Austin's dance of the schottische with double-soled cavalry boots was excellent; she was a well-known auctioneer in the city of Worcester.

December 24. Again on picket duty. It was a lively night on the other side of the river, innumerable camp fires and firing of guns. The Rebs were making it lively at their Christmas revels. Afterwards we heard of an interesting affair, a part of which occurred that same evening. At Rocky Ford up the river a little way above Falmouth, there was a detail of cavalry permanently located. Through trading coffee, tobacco and sugar our boys had become quite a little acquainted with the Johnnies on the other side of the river, and when Christmas time came the Confederates invited a number of them over to celebrate Christmas with them. The boys accepted the invitation and went over, had a fine time, were well entertained and got back without anything happening to mar the pleasure. A few days later when New Years came, our boys returned the compliment and invited the Johnnies over to spend New Years with them. Everything went finely until late in the evening when who should walk into the tent but the officer of the day, then the deuce was to pay. The Rebs were marched off to headquarters, but our boys would not allow the thing to end that way, went with them to headquarters, explained the whole matter, taking all the responsibility, and the affair was dropped. The Johnnies were allowed to return but they were all told they must not do so any more.

December 25. We all went down to the railroad and saw our wounded boys off, Tom Plunket among them. They were to be taken to a hospital in Washington. Reports of another grand move were being circulated about camp now every day. General Burnside reviewed the 9th Army Corps, January 6th.

It was a wet, cold, horrid day and very little enthusiasm was manifest.

January 7th we went on picket down by the river again, but it has become less trying than it was earlier in the winter. We were not obliged to stay concealed in our rifle pits so closely. Walking about on both sides of the river by our men and by the Johnnies, had become quite common and no firing was indulged in.

January 16. We received cartridges and extra rations and orders were given to be in readiness to move. Something was evidently in the wind.

January 18. Troops were moving up the river. Lee's left flank was to be attacked by Hooker and Franklin. But the troops did not get far. A heavy rain-storm had set in and the artillery was stuck in the mud. A regiment which was stuck right beside our camp, knowing we belonged to Burnside's army corps, would every once in a while make a diversion and give three groans for General Burnside. As we were comfortable in our tents and they were without tents, out there in the rain and mud, we pitied the poor devils rather than resented their taunts.

At three a.m., the 19th, reveille was sounded. We got up and packed our knapsacks. But we got no further. The order was countermanded and we went on picket duty once more. The morning of the 22d before we went back to camp, the Johnnies built a big sign board and painted on it in letters that could be read a mile away, "Burnside Stuck in the Mud." On our way back to camp that day we pa.s.sed guns and baggage wagons still stalled in the mud. During the day orders were given to return to camp, and as those men who had been out in the storm wet to their skins for forty-eight hours, covered with mud, with misery and disgust painted on every face, plodded their way back to their camps, they made a picture of army life never to be forgotten.

Soon after ten o'clock on the night of the 23d, a sutler who was established near our corps, was charged, his tent was torn down and his goods confiscated to the last cookie. The owner (an ex-cavalry officer) made a great defence, wounding some of the boys. But what could one man do with one little revolver, when faced by two or three hundred veterans of many a b.l.o.o.d.y military and whiskey campaign? He was overpowered by the gallant veterans and forced to flee for his life. Of course the guard appeared after the mischief was done, the battle won and the wolves had gone to their dens.

The last of November when we were relieved from duty down by the river and went into camp back on high ground, from what we could see no one would imagine there were ten thousand men within ten miles of our camp. The country all about there was spa.r.s.ely populated, and as one looked out on the landscape from that high ground, practically all he saw was woods. How different the aspect two months later as we were about to leave there? As far as the eye could reach all one could see was parks of military trains, parks of artillery, and camps of armies. Every tree had disappeared, yes, every stump and every root had been dug out of the ground and used to keep that army warm during those winter months. How remarkable the change, it could not be witnessed without wonderment.

February 6. Orders came for the regiment to be ready to move at a moment's notice with three days' rations in haversacks, and the next day we took train for Aquia Creek; arriving there about noon we went immediately on board the steamboat "Louisiana" the 9th. We steamed down the Potomac arriving at Fortress Monroe the next morning. Not until the 11th did we go ash.o.r.e, then we landed at Fortress Monroe, marched over to Newport News and went into camp in a horrid rain, only a short distance from the place where we camped the previous summer. It was a beautiful place and later on as the weather became warmer we enjoyed it very much. We were reviewed the 25th by our new corps commander, Baldy Smith.

We were at Newport News six weeks. We were heartily glad to be away from the jealous, political schemers so prevalent in the Army of the Potomac.

There was a fine, loyal and friendly spirit among the men of the 9th Army Corps; we had learned to fight together, and confidence in, and respect for, each other was universal.

CHAPTER VI

PLAYING SOLDIER IN KENTUCKY

Our breakfast at Baltimore. The trip west. The Reception at Mt. Sterling.

Moved into the town.

The early spring of 1863, found us at Newport News awaiting orders.

Finally, on March 18th, orders came and on the 19th, the 1st Division went on board transports.

March 26. We went on board the steamer "Kennebeck" during the forenoon, and in the afternoon started for Baltimore. In the early morning of the 27th we steamed into the harbor of that city. The 2d Maryland was in the 1st Division and it was a Baltimore regiment. It had pa.s.sed through the city just ahead of us and had arranged with its friends there, to be on the lookout for the 21st when we came along and see that we had a good breakfast. Well, there was nothing for sale at any of the restaurants near the wharf to members of the 21st, but we were all treated to as good a breakfast as any fellow could wish for. The editor of the Baltimore American, whom we had become acquainted with when doing picket duty on the railroad near Annapolis Junction, in the autumn of 1861, was there to welcome us. After breakfast we fell in line, marched up to the office of the Baltimore American and the band played all the national airs. Every one made a speech. We gave three cheers and a tiger a number of times and then we marched back to the wharf again. This reception was arranged for by the 2d Maryland, in memory of the Pollocksville breakfast we gave them May 17th, 1862, down in North Carolina. We did not leave Baltimore until the next morning (the 28th), when just at dawn we steamed away and on through Harrisburg, Pa., and Altoona, where we were given a fine supper at midnight.

At Pittsburgh, on the 29th, we were marched to a public hall and given a fine reception; left in the morning for Cincinnati. On the way, at Coshocton, Ohio, we were received with great cordiality by the people, were given a fine breakfast and the tables were waited on by as handsome a lot of young ladies as can be seen anywhere. We reached Columbus, Ohio, early in the afternoon of the 30th. We were cordially received there and furnished coffee and sandwiches. After this was all over and the people who had furnished the lunch had gone home, the train remaining in the railroad station, some of the boys wandered up into the town to see the capitol buildings and anything else of interest. A little way up a guard was encountered, refusing the boys admission to the town. After some bantering the guard opened fire on the boys, killing two and wounding a number of others. This so enraged the boys that there was a general rush for their guns, and had not the officers been on hand at the time there would have been a lot of blood spilled. The boys were got on to the train and we left the town as soon as possible.

The guard that opened fire on our boys was a detail from a new regiment of Ohio soldiers. How a lot of new soldiers doing ordinary guard duty in a city like that were given loaded muskets was impossible to understand. We reached Cincinnati at two o'clock the next morning, March 31st. We marched to the Market House where we received a good breakfast and cordial greeting from the people. While there, we learned that we were a.s.signed to the "Army of the Ohio" and that General Burnside had been put in command of the "Department of the Ohio." In the middle of the day we crossed the river and took train for Paris, Ky., arriving there in the early morning of April 1st. We went into camp and remained there three days.

April 3d. We marched to Mt. Sterling, a distance of twenty-two miles.

Here, we were to do frontier duty, a.s.sisting in protecting the people of Kentucky from raids by Confederate cavalry and guerrillas which had become very common. The march to Mt. Sterling was through the blue gra.s.s region and over a fine turnpike--the first fine road we had seen since leaving New England. Mt. Sterling is the county town of Montgomery County and has about 3000 inhabitants. But as we marched through the town we saw not one of the 3000. The streets were deserted, the blinds on the windows were closed and the doors barred. We marched on through the village out on one of the main roads and went into camp. A strong guard was put around the camp and no one was allowed to go in town.

During the evening the day after we reached Mt. Sterling, the cavalry pickets were driven in by a guerrilla band, but they got no farther than our picket post. There they came to a very sudden stop. The next day we changed camp, going to a large pasture on high ground finely drained and with a grove of beautiful trees in it, about a mile from town.

The reason for the cold reception we received from the people of Mt.

Sterling on our arrival there, was because we were from the black abolition state of Ma.s.sachusetts. They preferred, we were told, to remain unguarded rather than be guarded by Ma.s.sachusetts men. However, it was our fortune to see a most remarkable change in the sentiment of the people toward us in a very short time. Colonel Clark, the commander of the regiment, was an Amherst professor, a man of intellect and culture, and a man of an exceptionally fine presence. He was a fine example of New England culture and must have made a superior impression on the leading men of the town and county. As soon as we reached there a strong guard was put on the court house, the jail and every other public building and piece of public property that required guarding. Not a soldier was allowed in the village excepting the guards on duty; no one was allowed to touch anything he did not buy and pay for in the regular way. Raiding the town by guerrillas was stopped, perfect order was maintained. And as a result on the 17th we were invited, by the civil authorities, to move down into the village and camp in the beautiful grounds in front of the court house; and there we remained until early in July.

This period of three months was the most delightful period we had during the war. It was a veritable campaign of peace. Confidence returned to the people of Mt. Sterling, the court held its regular sessions, a thing that had not been done since the war broke out. We were paid off; money was spent freely and Mt. Sterling put on her holiday attire. After we moved down into the court house grounds there was no guard kept around the camp, the boys were allowed to go and come as they pleased so long as they behaved themselves and were present at roll-call. In a short time they became acquainted with the people of the village and in the country around. They used to wander off into the country for miles, call at the farmers' houses, and buy things to eat. In this way they became acquainted in families, and those acquaintances in many instances ripened into friendships. A Company E man and I went off into the country one day some three or four miles. We came to a medium-sized, pleasantly situated house, with a lot of hens in the yard. We thought this our opportunity to get some eggs, which was our errand, and walked up to the door and knocked. We were invited in. As we were buying our eggs two young ladies appeared. We did not feel like rushing away then, although the girls were a little slighting in their answers to questions and in speaking of the Confederates referred to them as "our men." In the course of the conversation it was disclosed that they had relations in the Confederate army. However, the girls were young and attractive and we did not hurry.

There was a piano in the room and my friend suggested that one of them favor us with a selection. The younger one, a girl about twenty, sat down and played "Dixie" and "My Maryland." As she finished she swung around on her chair and glanced at each of us in a way that said, what do you think of that. We complimented her and asked her to play the "Star Spangled Banner," and "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean" which she did as a favor. My friend then asked her to play the Ma.r.s.ellaise. She did not recognize it.

Would he hum it?--she might remember it. He hummed it, but it was evident she did not know it. Finally, she said in a rather saucy way, "Why don't you play it yourself?" He said he would if it was agreeable. A plainly dressed private soldier sat down to the piano but from that moment the instrument seemed inspired. He played the "Ma.r.s.ellaise," "The Watch on the Rhine;" then he played a number of selections of dance music from Strauss and other things. If he stopped they would say, "Oh don't stop, play something else." For nearly an hour he played ahead--those people and I as well were charmed; it was interesting to see those girls glance at each other and at their mother at times when the music was especially interesting. When finally he did stop, the saucy distant airs of the girls were gone, they had become our friends. We were then less disposed than before to leave, and when we did go it was with the understanding that we would come again and in future buy all our hens' eggs from them.

We did no drilling while there. Our princ.i.p.al duties were picketing the roads leading into the town from the south, east and west, keeping the bra.s.s plates on our accoutrements and our shoes, well polished. Reports of guerrillas being in adjoining towns reached us from time to time, but as those men never really wanted to fight, but only to steal, they never approached very near Mt. Sterling.

In talking with one of the Union men of the village one day about the people who were in sympathy with the South he said, "Zeek Jones over there was until lately one of the biggest Rebels in the blue gra.s.s region; he preached it and he sung it until the Rebel cavalry came along and bought out all his horned cattle, horses, potatoes and general truck and paid him in Confederate money; then he sung a new tune--he's been cursing them ever since. He sits up nights to swear about them. Nothing like that to bring a man around, stranger," and the old man haw-hawed right heartily.

About a mile from the village on one of the roads leading from it, a picket post had pitched its tent near what appeared to be some deserted buildings. At night there issued from the house the most delightful music.

The unknown singer had a contralto voice, with all the richness of tone of the most highly trained prima donna. For three successive evenings there poured forth from the house a concert the like of which those soldiers had never heard. On the third night one of the boys could endure it no longer, his curiosity had got the best of him. He approached the building, climbed over the garden wall, pa.s.sed around the house, and, lo, there was an open window. He stole up to it and peeped in. The room was full of music. For a moment he was lost in the splendor of the tones, when lo, upon the kitchen table sat a colored girl singing as if her heart would burst. As she sang she scoured her dishes. She saw him! He dropped and slunk away. "Go way dar you soger man, or I'll let fly de frying pan at you head. You mustn't stan dar peeking at dis yer chile." The romantic vision was dispelled. The soldier stole back to his companions, but that entrancing music was never heard to issue from that house again.

Once we marched to Paris and once to Sharpsburg to attack guerrillas, but in each instance when we reached the place the guerrillas had disappeared.

Twice we were ordered away, but each time the people sent to headquarters extensively signed pet.i.tions praying that we might remain there a little longer. And stay we did until the corps was nearly ready to march into Tennessee, and the capture of the hearts of two Kentucky belles of the blue gra.s.s region, by men of the 21st were among the results of our campaign in Kentucky.

July 6. With sincere regret we said goodbye to our many friends at Mt.

Sterling and marched to Lexington. The farmers of the vicinity showed the sincerity of their regard for us by turning out with their teams and carrying our knapsacks the whole thirty-three miles. It was a sweltering hot day, and in our untrained condition it was all we could stand. As we reached Lexington we found the streets filled with farmers and their stock, they having come to town to escape from a guerrilla band that was reported to be in the vicinity. But we were there in time and the guerrillas did not attempt to enter the town. We went into camp in a large field near Fort Clay. The 16th we changed camp, going to a beautiful grove near the Lexington cemetery. Here we remained until we started for Tennessee.

CHAPTER VII

THE CAMPAIGN IN TENNESSEE

We crossed the c.u.mberland Range. The patient mule. Seeing a railroad engine with a train of cars make a dive. The siege of Knoxville. "Will you lend me my n.i.g.g.e.r, Colonel?" Re-enlistment. Recrossed the Mountains, returning to Kentucky on the way home, on our re-enlistment furlough.

We remained in camp near the Lexington cemetery at Lexington, just one month, until August 12, 1863, when we made our first start for Tennessee.

We took train for Nicholasville, then marched to Camp Nelson, where we went into camp, and stayed another month having a delightful time in that most healthy and beautiful place.

September 12. We started in good earnest on our march over the mountains but went only as far as Camp d.i.c.k Robinson. As we went into camp we were drenched by a fearful thunder storm, hailstones falling the size of marbles. The next day we made a good day's march pa.s.sing through the town of Lancaster. The 14th we pa.s.sed through the village of Crab Orchard, camping for the night a little way beyond the town.

The 15th we remained in camp, but the 16th we moved on a good distance in spite of the dreadful roads, along the sides of which lay numerous wrecks of army wagons, dead mules, etc. We were then getting into the foothills of the c.u.mberland range, and also into the abode of the rattlesnake, a number having been seen the last day or two. Colonel Hawks made an interesting discovery as he started to retire last night. He found a rattlesnake about two feet and a half long comfortably coiled up in his blankets, that was not the kind of bedfellow the colonel was looking for, and he was despatched at short notice. The 17th we met a lot of Confederate prisoners being taken to the rear. They had been captured at c.u.mberland Gap. They were about the dirtiest and most repulsive looking lot of men I have ever seen. We climbed Wildcat Mountain, a hill so steep it did not seem as if the trains could ever get up it; but by going slow and with a good deal of pushing and pulling by the boys they did succeed in reaching the top without accident. We pa.s.sed through the town of Loudon and Barboursville, and September 21st crossed the c.u.mberland River at c.u.mberland Ford.