THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY***


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SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY


[Illustration: JULIAN WISNER HINKLEY
From a photograph taken in July, 1864]


Wisconsin History Commission: Original Papers, No. 7

A NARRATIVE OF SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY

by

JULIAN WISNER HINKLEY

Captain of Company E, and Sometime Acting Major of Said Regiment







Wisconsin History Commission
September, 1912

Twenty-Five Hundred Copies Printed

Copyright, 1912
The Wisconsin History Commission
(in behalf of the State of Wisconsin)

Opinions or errors of fact on the part of the respective authors of
the Commission's publications (whether Reprints or Original
Narratives) have not been modified or corrected by the Commission.
For all statements, of whatever character, the Author alone is
responsible

Democrat Printing Co., State Printer




Contents


                                           PAGE

  WISCONSIN HISTORY COMMISSION             viii

  EDITOR'S PREFACE                           ix

  SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY:

      Enlistment and training                 1

      Departure for the front                 7

      Service in Maryland                     9

      On the trail of Stonewall Jackson      15

      The tables turned                      22

      At Cedar Mountain                      32

      The Army retreats northward            38

      Moving toward the enemy                47

      Battle of South Mountain               49

      Battle of Antietam                     51

      In winter quarters                     63

      Chancellorsville                       66

      A cavalry expedition                   78

      Gettysburg                             80

      On draft riot duty                     92

      With the Army of the Cumberland        97

      The Third veteranizes                 102

      Reorganizing Lincoln County           106

      Opening of the Atlanta campaign       116

      Wounded and in hospital               124

      The siege of Atlanta                  129

      The march to the sea                  146

      In front of Savannah                  153

      In Savannah                           163

      Marching northward                    166

      Peace                                 173

      Homeward                              176

  INDEX                                     183




ILLUSTRATION

   Portrait of the Author _Frontispiece_




WISCONSIN HISTORY COMMISSION


  (Organized under the provisions of Chapter 298,
      Laws of 1905, as amended by Chapter 378,
      Laws of 1907, Chapter 445, Laws of 1909,
      and Chapter 628, Laws of 1911)

  FRANCIS E. McGOVERN
      _Governor of Wisconsin_

  CHARLES E. ESTABROOK
      _Representing Department of Wisconsin, Grand
        Army of the Republic_

  REUBEN G. THWAITES
      _Superintendent of the State Historical Society of
        Wisconsin_

  CARL RUSSELL FISH
      _Professor of American History in the University of
        Wisconsin_

  MATTHEW S. DUDGEON
      _Secretary of the Wisconsin Library Commission_

         *       *       *       *       *

  _Chairman_, COMMISSIONER ESTABROOK
  _Secretary and Editor_, COMMISSIONER THWAITES
  _Committee on Publications_, COMMISSIONERS THWAITES
      AND FISH




EDITOR'S PREFACE


The author of this volume was born at Vernon, Connecticut, on March 12,
1838, of a long line of New England ancestry; he was sixth in order of
descent from Governor Thomas Hinkley of Plymouth Colony. Coming to
Wisconsin in his eleventh year, Julian grew to young manhood on his
father's farm at Waupun and in Portage County. In 1858, our author left
the farm and started life for himself--teaching school in winter, and
working as a carpenter each summer.

On April 19, 1861, Mr. Hinkley enlisted in the Waupun Light Guard for
three months. But the services of the organization were not accepted for
that short term by the State military authorities, so on May 8 they were
proffered and accepted for the war, and the organization became Company
E of the Third Wisconsin Infantry. Hinkley was at the organization
appointed First-Sergeant; but on February 6, 1862, he was commissioned
Second-Lieutenant of his company, became First-Lieutenant on November 1
following, and on May 4, 1863, took command of the Company as Captain.
He continued to serve the Third Wisconsin until its final discharge and
payment in Madison on August 26, 1865, but during the last few months of
this period was the acting Major of the Regiment. Since the war, Major
Hinkley has been largely engaged in erecting public buildings, and has a
wide acquaintance throughout Northeast Wisconsin.

The Commission is much pleased at this opportunity to publish Major
Hinkley's _Narrative_. The book has only in part been written from
memory. It has been made up from several excellent sources: (1) A
manuscript diary kept from day to day, or week to week, by Mr. Hinkley
during the years of his service; (2) several contemporary letters
written by him, either to the local press of his section of the State,
or to relatives and friends at home; and lastly (3), a manuscript
narrative written by the author several years after the war, for the
edification of his children. The work of amalgamating these diverse
materials has fallen to the lot of the editorial department of the
Commission; the result, however, has been passed upon in detail by
Major Hinkley, and in its present continuous form accepted by him as his
final narrative. This method of compilation has secured a manuscript
possessing a contemporaneous flavor and accuracy, not usual with
reminiscences. The Commissioners feel that the book is an interesting
and valuable contribution to the literature of the war, being the
view-point of a company commander in one of the most active of Wisconsin
regiments, throughout the entire period of the struggle.

                                              R. G. T.

  WISCONSIN HISTORICAL LIBRARY

          September, 1912




SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY




_Enlistment and Training_


The presidential election of 1860 found me just become of age. I
exercised my newly-acquired rights of citizenship, in the then little
village of Waupun, Wisconsin, by participating in the hurrahing and
torchlight processions that in those days characterized a political
campaign. I was a carpenter by trade, but immediately after the election
went to teach a country school in the backwoods town of Buena Vista, in
Portage County. Daily papers in that sparsely settled community were of
course an unknown luxury, and it was only through the weeklies that we
heard of the gathering storm in the Nation. From them we learned how
State after State in the South were holding conventions, that they were
passing ordinances of secession, and that the delegates were gathering
at Montgomery, Alabama, to organize the Confederate States of America.

In the North, few people seemed as yet to realize that a great war was
impending. The Southern newspapers boastfully asserted that secession
might be accomplished in peace, for the Northerners were a nation of
shopkeepers and mechanics, who would never fight to prevent it. And
these statements, reprinted in the Northern papers, were far from
soothing, for there is nothing that so quickly arouses the combativeness
of men, and especially of young men, as the intimation that they are
cowards. Thus were the younger and more hot-headed men on both sides
being stirred to warlike feeling by newspaper writers, until such
hostile sentiment was aroused that war was inevitable.

Immediately after the secession of South Carolina, I had expressed my
intention, in conversation with my friends, that should war follow, I
would have a hand in it. This determination grew as events drifted on
from bad to worse. I cannot say that I was very strongly animated by a
love for the Union in the abstract, or that I considered the abolition
of slavery worth fighting for; but I felt that the dismemberment of the
Union by armed force, submitted to without a struggle, would be a
disgrace to the whole North.

The events of the following winter and spring are a part of the history
of the Nation. Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated on March 4, 1861. On
April 12, Fort Sumter was fired upon, and surrendered on the 14th. On
April 15 Lincoln issued his call for troops, and the war had burst upon
the Nation in all its fury.

Waupun for a number of years maintained an independent military company,
called the Waupun Light Guard. This organization had in its possession
forty stand of arms belonging to the State, and uniforms for about
twenty of its members. On the morning of April 19, I had gone down to
the main street of the village to buy a paper. While discussing with
Captain Clark of the military company, the events of the day, an agent
of the State, who had just arrived on the morning train, approached us.
He read to the Captain a notice that his company must at once be filled
up to the regulation standard and reported for active duty, or surrender
its arms, to be used by other companies going into service.

I had not heretofore belonged to this company, but at once told the
Captain that I would enlist, and aid him to fill his command to the
required standard. A meeting was called for that night, and with the
assistance of the patriotic people of the village and surrounding
country, the company was filled up by nine o'clock of the next morning.
A telegram was immediately sent to Madison, tendering service for the
ninety-day call. We had acted promptly and swiftly, yet not quite
swiftly enough. Twenty-three other companies had filed notice before us,
and the quota of Wisconsin was full.

Enthusiasm among the men ran high, however, and when on May 8 it was
learned that no more ninety-day men could be accepted, it was determined
by vote to tender service for the entire war, however long that might
be. Those whose business was such that they could not leave home for
longer than ninety days retired, but their places were quickly taken by
others who were anxious to go. We were now accepted, and assigned to the
Third Wisconsin Volunteers and ordered to rendevouz at Fond du Lac as
soon as camp equipage could be furnished.

The former officers of the company were retained, with the consent of
the newly-enlisted men, and additional non-commissioned officers were
elected. Among the latter I was chosen First Sergeant, which position I
held until promoted to a Second-Lieutenancy.

We boarded at the best hotels in the village, until ordered into camp.
We were drilled several hours each day, and prepared for the work in
store for us by the study of tactics and army regulations. At length,
after what seemed to us in our impatience an interminable delay, we went
into camp at Fond du Lac on June 15, and for the first time lived in
tents. We now had daily company and battalion drill, together with
officers' school in tactics and sword exercise. Colonel Thomas H. Ruger,
our commander, was a West Point graduate, and under his efficient
direction we became, before we had been very long in the service, as
thoroughly drilled and disciplined as any regiment of regulars. Indeed
we all felt sure, while we were still at Fond du Lac, that we were
already veterans.

On June 28 appeared Captain McIntyre of the regular army to inspect us
and muster us into the service of the United States. And here occurred a
difficulty which illustrates how confidently the people of the North
expected that the war would be of only short duration. Many of the best
men in the company, who had been entirely willing to enlist "for the
war," objected to being mustered in for a three-years' term of service
as required by the instructions of the Federal Government. It was only
after considerable persuasion that they were all finally induced to do
so. Probably not one of them had the slightest idea that he would serve
for three years, and then enlist again for another three years, before
the great struggle would be ended.

On the day after mustering in, uniforms were issued to us, consisting of
light-grey trousers, mixed-grey blouse, and light- hat. At
first, they looked bright and fine, but they were of such poor quality,
especially the trousers, that within ten days it was necessary to
furnish the entire regiment with common blue workingmen's overalls, in
order that we might with decency be seen upon the streets. Some
money-loving patriot contractor had gathered in his reward from the
State of Wisconsin by providing us with shoddy clothes; and in the end
it came out of the pay of the Regiment.




_Departure for the Front_


The preparations for departure were soon completed, and on July 12,
1861, we shouldered our knapsacks, strapped on our haversacks,
containing several days' rations, and boarded the railroad cars for the
seat of war in Virginia. The train of twenty-four coaches pulled out of
the station amid the cheers and farewells of our many friends, who had
gathered to see us off. All were in the best of spirits. It seemed to us
as though we were setting out on a grand pleasure excursion. No thought
of death or disaster appeared to cross the mind of anyone. And yet how
many were saying farewell, never to return!

Our route took us through Chicago, Toledo, Cleveland, and Erie.
Everywhere we were feasted and toasted by the enthusiastic people along
the line. At Buffalo the entire population seemed to have turned out to
welcome the wild woodsmen of the Northwest. The local military companies
of that city escorted us through the principal streets; speeches were
made by the mayor and prominent citizens. We were very soon convinced
that we were, indeed, heroes in embryo. At Williamsport, Pennsylvania,
we were given a reception surpassing anything that had gone before; even
now, more than fifty years after, its pleasant recollections still
linger in my mind. Tables were set along the sidewalk in the shade of
magnificent trees, and these tables were literally loaded with all the
good things that could tempt an epicure. There were, besides, fair
ladies without number to welcome us, and wait upon our needs.

On July 16 we reached Hagerstown, Maryland, where we went into camp, and
where on the next day we were equipped with a complete outfit of
muskets, ammunition, and camp utensils. The degree of preparation of the
Federal Government for war at this time, may be judged from the fact
that the muskets issued to us were old-time smooth-bore Springfields,
that had been rifled for a minie-ball; they were so light, that their
barrels would spring after the rapid firing of a dozen shots.




_Service in Maryland_


On the morning of July 17 we broke camp and started for Harpers Ferry,
thirty miles distant. Now for the first time I began to realize what it
was to be a soldier. I carried a knapsack laden with the various things
that kind friends at home had thought necessary for a soldier's comfort,
a haversack containing two days' rations, a musket with accoutrements,
and forty rounds of ammunition, altogether weighing not less than fifty
pounds. The weather was extremely hot and the roads very muddy, so that
by the time we had gone fifteen miles I was entirely ready to go into
camp.

Our camp was pitched on the side of a hill. Our mess, in order to find
as level a sleeping place as possible, pitched the tent in a low place,
and in our ignorance of camp life we neglected to dig a ditch around it.
A sudden shower came up soon after we had gone to sleep, and in a short
time we found ourselves lying in a pool of water. And as if this were
not misfortune enough, our tent pins, loosened by the soaking of the
ground, suddenly pulled out, and down came our canvas shelter.
Subsequent experience enabled me to sleep in wet blankets, or in no
blankets at all, just as well as in the best bed; but at this time it
was impossible. So gathering a rubber blanket around my shoulders, I
found a large stone, and remained upon it for the rest of the night. In
the morning we continued the march toward Harpers Ferry. Our camp for
the next night was pitched on a bit of comparatively level ground on the
east side of Maryland Heights, overlooking the little village of Sandy
Hook, and about a mile distant from Harpers Ferry. A more thoroughly
used-up lot of men than ours that night, it would be hard to find.

My first military duty was to guard the ford at Harpers Ferry and the
bridges across the canal. The region was historic ground, and I took
this opportunity to visit the old arsenal, then in ruins, and the old
engine-house where John Brown had battled so bravely for his life. I
made it a point also to visit Jefferson's Rock, the view from which
Jefferson, in his _Notes on Virginia_, says is worth a voyage across the
Atlantic to see.

On September 15, while encamped in the vicinity of Darnestown, we were
ordered, late in the day, to break camp and take the road toward the
west. Our destination was not disclosed to us, and there was a great
deal of speculation among the men as to the object of this secret and
hurried march. The next day we found out from citizens along the road
that we were on the way to Frederick City, the capital of Maryland. We
arrived there late on the afternoon of the 16th, and received an
enthusiastic welcome from the citizens of that loyal town. Early the
next morning, guards were stationed on all roads leading out of town,
and detachments of men, accompanied by detectives, proceeded to arrest
the members of the Maryland Legislature, who had assembled there for the
purpose of passing an ordinance of secession. It was thus that Maryland
was saved to the Union by the promptness of General McClellan. Her
secessionist legislators found themselves, shortly after, assembled at
Fort McHenry, with leisure to meditate upon their schemes.

The Regiment remained in camp at Frederick City until late in October.
The usual monotony of camp life, with its drills, dress parades, and
guard mountings, was broken only by the arrival of the paymaster with
crisp new greenbacks of the first issue, and by the appearance of new
blue uniforms in exchange for our tattered array. To the old grey we
bade adieu without a sigh of regret, and proudly donned the blue of
United States soldiers.

One interesting incident occurred during our stay here, which gave us a
subject for discussion for several days. News had been brought to us of
a large quantity of wheat, stored in a mill in Harpers Ferry, which was
about to be ground into flour for the use of the Confederate army. An
expedition to capture it was soon organized under command of Colonel
John W. Geary of the Twenty-Eighth Pennsylvania. It was composed of a
detachment of two hundred men from our regiment under command of Captain
Bertram, with similar detachments from the Twelfth Massachusetts and
Twenty-Eighth Pennsylvania, besides a section of artillery. The
expedition was successful; the wheat was safely removed to the north
side of the river, and the command was ready to return, when a large
force of the enemy appeared, seemingly disposed for a fight. Our men
were quite willing to accommodate them, and moved up the hill toward
Bolivar Heights, where the enemy was already strongly posted with
artillery. Skirmishing immediately commenced. But this soon proved too
slow for our impatient men; they charged the Confederate position, and
soon had the satisfaction of seeing the last of the Southerners
disappear in the direction of Charlestown, leaving their artillery in
our hands.

In this engagement the heaviest fighting fell to the detachment of the
Third Wisconsin; the piece of artillery was brought off by them as a
trophy. This command also sustained all of the loss, having had six men
killed and four wounded. The dead were brought back and buried with
military honors in the cemetery at Frederick City. The fight had in a
large measure been unnecessary, for the entire object of the expedition
had been accomplished before the enemy appeared in force; yet the moral
effect on the men was good, since it increased their self-confidence.

On November 1 we rejoined the Division of General Banks, near
Darnestown, where we remained until the beginning of the next month. The
whole Division then moved to the vicinity of Frederick City, our
Regiment being detailed in the city as provost guard. We built our
barracks in the old barrack yard, and settled down for the winter to the
regular routine of guard duty. Two companies were detailed each day--one
for the guard-house, the other to patrol the city and preserve order.
The snow, rain, and mud kept the ground in such condition that drilling
was impossible; thus we had little to do but kill time with chess,
checkers, cards, and dominoes. The winter wore slowly away in this
uneventful manner. In January news was received of the victory of
General Thomas at Somerset, Kentucky; also the capture of Roanoke
Island, by General Burnside, and immediately after this, in February,
the great victories of General Grant at Forts Henry and Donelson. The
enthusiasm of the command over these successes knew no bounds, and our
impatience to be on the move could scarcely be restrained.




_On the trail of Stonewall Jackson_


At length the long-wished-for came. On the morning of February 25, 1862,
we bade adieu to the barracks that had sheltered us so long, and
boarding the cars moved to Sandy Hook, where we went into camp on the
ground that we had left six months before. During the night there
arrived a train of cars with a pontoon bridge, in charge of a detachment
of United States engineers; and General McClellan came from Washington
by special train, personally to supervise the movement. Our Regiment
being largely composed of lumbermen and raftsmen from northern
Wisconsin, who were accustomed to running rafts on the rivers of our
State, readily made up a detail of a hundred experienced fellows to
assist the engineers in laying the bridge. By noon it was constructed,
1300 feet long, in a swift current and our Regiment, the advance of the
army, was on its way into Dixie.

We moved rapidly on to Bolivar Heights without seeing anything of the
enemy, and halted there for the night, happy in the thought that at
last we were doing something. On February 28 a strong reconnoitering
party of infantry, artillery, and cavalry, moved forward, and without
opposition occupied Charlestown. It was a village of national reputation
at that time, for there John Brown was tried and hung. It was one of the
hottest secessionist spots in the State, any Union sentiment that might
have existed, being carefully concealed. We remained there for several
days quartered in the various churches and public buildings, while I
improved the opportunity to visit the many points of interest. On March
2 came my commission as Second Lieutenant of Company D.

On March 11 we once more moved forward in the direction of Winchester,
the advance guard skirmishing with the enemy occasionally, but meeting
no serious resistance. The next morning we turned out at four o'clock,
and advancing through fields and woods for about an hour, came at length
in sight of the entrenchments of Winchester, about a mile to the front.
Our right and left companies were thrown forward as skirmishers, in
preparation for a fight, but met with no resistance, and were soon
clambering over the parapet of the deserted fort. They pushed on into
the town, the remainder of the Regiment following closely after, and
received from the mayor the formal surrender of the municipality. It was
the first surrender of this interesting city, which is said to have been
captured and recaptured more than thirty times during the war. We found
here an apparently strong Union sentiment. As our Regiment marched in
with colors flying and band playing, the citizens were rejoicing
everywhere over their deliverance from the Confederates. Innumerable
handkerchiefs were waving to welcome us, and in some instances the stars
and stripes were displayed. We learned from citizens that General
Stonewall Jackson had with 6,000 men, retreated the night before toward
Strasburgh, taking with him quite a number of the Union citizens of the
town.

We now went into camp a short distance south of Winchester, where we
remained until March 22. Continually we were hearing of the glorious
successes of the Western Army, and becoming more and more anxious that
our Army of the Potomac should be given an opportunity to rival its
achievements. A number of changes in the organization of the Division
were made while we were here in camp. The only one of importance to us
was the transfer of the Second Massachusetts to our Brigade in place of
the Ninth New York, giving us Colonel Gordon of the Second Massachusetts
as brigade commander in place of General Hamilton, our old leader. This
circumstance was little liked at the time; but it was the beginning of
our friendship with the Second Massachusetts, that remained very close
throughout the war.

On March 22 our Division left Winchester to proceed, as we believed, to
Manassas Junction. At the end of a two days' march we were camping for
the night about three miles east of Snicker's Gap, in the Blue Ridge.
Rumors here began to circulate, that there had in our absence been
considerable fighting at Winchester. It was reported that the
Confederates had been defeated, but that General Shields had been
wounded in the battle. We were not, therefore, surprised, the next
morning, to be ordered to march back over the identical road upon which
we had come. We reached Winchester the same night after a hard march of
twenty-five miles, and learned from its citizens that there certainly
had been a fight. We were informed that General Jackson had learned of
our departure from Winchester, but had not heard that Shields was still
encamped north of the city. Jackson had made a hasty move to recapture
Winchester, but had been confronted by Shields near Kernstown. Here the
Confederates had been completely routed and driven beyond Strasburgh,
with heavy loss in killed and prisoners.

On the morning after our arrival at Winchester, I went out to take a
view of the battle-field, and was able to gain some idea of what the
future held in store for us. The wounded had already been cared for, and
some of the dead had been buried; but sixteen of our dead remained on
the field, and something over three hundred of the enemy's. In one part
of the battle-ground, covered with small timber and underbrush, where
the enemy had for a time made a stubborn resistance, scarcely a bush or
a tree but showed the marks of bullets at a height of from three to six
feet from the ground. In my inexperience, I then wondered how any man
could have lived in that thicket; and in truth, not many did live there
long, for the ground was strewn with the dead.

Returning to camp at noon, I found that we were again under orders to
march. We started out near sundown, moving that night to Strasburgh, and
found the bridge over Cedar Creek, two miles this side of Strasburgh,
destroyed. It had been burned by Jackson at the time of his first
retreat from Winchester. This precaution had in the recent fight proved
to be his undoing, for in his hasty flight before Shield's Division, his
army, which up to that place had preserved good order, was completely
disorganized and suffered a loss of two hundred prisoners.

We remained at Strasburgh for several days. During that time I was
detailed on a general court martial to try some soldiers who had been
arrested for depredations on private property. Their offence, as I was
informed, consisted in stealing chickens and honey, against which
stringent orders were at that time in force. The court convened in all
dignity, and sent word to the General that it was ready to try the
culprits. In a few minutes Adjutant Wilkins appeared, presented the
compliments of the General and informed us that the prisoners had
escaped. We were requested to adjourn until they had been recaptured. As
that court was never reconvened, it may be taken for granted that the
prisoners were never recaptured.

On the first day of April we again moved forward, driving the enemy in
such haste that they left their dinners cooking on the fires. Several
times during the day, they opened on us with artillery, but a few shots
from our battery would quickly send them on again. On the 17th we made
another attempt to get at Jackson's army, by moving one Division up the
Shenandoah River on the west side, and the other into New Market from
the southwest. Our Regiment was with the latter Division. After fording
a river up to our armpits, and finding it as cold as melting snow from
the mountains could make it, we found that the enemy had again shown his
heels and once more was away to the south.

During the next month we followed the retreating army of General Jackson
to Harrisonburg, and then came back to Strasburgh. Here we made some
little show of fortifying; but in the main, we were as easy and
unconcerned as though the war was over. And in fact, the good news
received from all quarters, and the orders from the War Department to
stop all recruiting, led us to believe that the contest was nearly
ended. In camp, bets were freely offered, with no takers, that the
Regiment would be back in Wisconsin by September. I remember writing to
a friend, about this time, that my part of the work of suppressing the
Rebellion seemed to be about done. How sadly were we mistaken!




_The Tables Turned_


We had a rude awakening from our dream of peace. While we had been
idling in fancied security, General Jackson had gathered a large force
with which to overwhelm us. Our first intimation of trouble came on the
night of May 23, when we were hastily called to defend our railroad
bridge toward Front Royal against the attack of the enemy. The next day
we were in full retreat toward Winchester.

When about half way to Winchester, the enemy, who had crossed from Front
Royal, attacked our train in the front. The Fifth Connecticut and
Twenty-Eighth New York were hurried forward, with the rest of the
command following, and the road was soon cleared. But this had hardly
been accomplished, when the enemy attacked in the rear, and cut off
about fifty wagons. At this new danger a halt was called, and with two
regiments and a battery, General Banks hastened to the rear. The lost
wagons were recovered, but the animals having all been driven off or
killed, it was necessary to burn the vehicles. Among the wagons
destroyed was one containing all the rations and cooking utensils of my
Company. We succeeded at night in securing a few crackers from some of
the more fortunate companies, but most of my men went supperless to bed.
Moreover, there were prospects for a lively fight in the morning.

I was awakened early by the picket-firing, which commenced at daybreak,
and found myself thoroughly chilled from sleeping on the bare ground,
without blankets or shelter. However, both hunger and cold were soon
forgotten in the more pressing demands upon our attention. The position
chosen by General Banks for the night's bivouac was probably the worst
that could have been found between Strasburgh and the Potomac River.
With seven regiments of infantry we occupied a small field lying between
the outskirts of the city and the hills on the south. The enemy were in
possession of the hills, where they had erected considerable
fortifications. Colonel Gordon's Brigade was on the right of the road;
that of Colonel Donnelly was on the left--all facing the enemy.

Our skirmishers were promptly advanced, and commenced firing on the
enemy in their entrenchments. Supported by a battery in our rear, which
fired over our heads into their position, we were maintaining a lively
fire, when suddenly it was discovered that the enemy was passing around
upon our right, with the evident intention of getting in our rear. The
Twenty-Seventh Indiana and Twenty-Ninth Pennsylvania were hurriedly
moved to the right, but had hardly reached their position when they were
furiously assailed both in front and flank by the advancing
Confederates. The Twenty-Ninth Pennsylvania received the first brunt of
the attack, and soon was in full retreat. The Twenty-Seventh Indiana
came in for the next attack, and they also fell back about a quarter of
a mile to some stone walls on the outskirts of the city. Our Regiment
and the Second Massachusetts, which as yet had scarcely been engaged,
were now faced about and marched to the rear, until we reached the
fenced lots on the outskirts of the town. Here we were halted, and
opened fire on the enemy, who had appeared in large numbers upon our
front.

We had soon checked the Confederates immediately before us. I was
looking around to see how things were going with the others, when I
became aware that Company F and a portion of my Company were entirely
alone. It appears that orders had been sent around by General Banks to
fall back to the north side of the city; but we, being separated from
the rest of the Regiment by an intervening street, had not heard them.
There we were, fighting the whole Southern army by ourselves! I hastened
to Captain Limbocker to call his attention to our position. He saw the
situation at a glance, and left-facing the companies, marched
double-quick through the back streets toward the main road of the city.
By this time our men had discovered that they were in a close place, and
moved rapidly. Just as we reached the main street and turned north, I
stopped to speak to the Captain, who was in the rear. As I did so, I saw
that the whole street behind us to the south was swarming with
Confederate soldiers, not fifty feet away. They were in such confusion,
however, that it was impossible for them to fire, and in fact they did
not seem to try. From that point until we were clear of the street, it
was simply a foot race, in which we were the winners. They evidently
soon tired of the race, for before we were clear of the street they had
some artillery in position, and shot and shell were flying harmlessly
over our heads.

We afterwards learned that Colonel Donnelly's Brigade, which at the
beginning of the fight had been posted out of our sight on the left of
the road, had also, like our Brigade, been assailed in front and in the
flank; and that they also, had soon been forced back in full retreat.

We rejoined our Regiment in the line, without further trouble. From our
position we could see the enemy on the hills west of us, endeavoring by
rapid marching to reach the road in our rear. We stopped only long
enough to gather up our men, who had become scattered in coming through
the streets of the city, and then moved on toward Martinsburg. We did no
more fighting and no more running. All of General Banks's command was
ahead of us except two sections of artillery, and detachments of the
First Vermont and First Michigan Cavalry, which protected our rear and
kept the enemy at a respectful distance. During the retreat, General
Banks did all that lay in the power of any man to bring off his men
without loss, giving personal attention to the posting of the rear
guard.

I suppose it was about eight o'clock in the morning when our Regiment
began its march to Martinsburg, twenty-three miles distant. We arrived
there at about five in the afternoon, without having stopped for dinner,
and without rest. Indeed, we had no dinner to stop for, and the pursuing
enemy were not inclined to let us rest. We expected to stop at
Martinsburg, but General Banks did not deem it safe, so after a rest of
a half hour we were ordered to proceed to Williamsport, Maryland,
twelve miles farther on.

We arrived at the Potomac, opposite Williamsport, about ten o'clock that
night, tired, hungry, and in no very good humor over the results of our
two days' work. We managed to secure some salt pork and a few crackers
for supper, after which we wrapped ourselves in our overcoats, and took
such rest as could be obtained, amid the noise of men and teams crossing
the ferry, and the calls of stragglers who were coming in and seeking
their regiments. At three o'clock in the morning we were aroused, and
ordered to the ferry. About an hour later we were across the Potomac on
the Maryland side, drawn up in line of battle and waiting for the enemy.

General Banks was untiring in his efforts to bring our train over
safely, even riding into the water to save mules that had lost their
footing, and were in danger of drowning. He made a speech to the men,
telling them that the enemy had advanced no farther than Martinsburg,
and that 20,000 men had been sent to cut off their retreat.

The roll call taken at this time showed that eleven men of Company D
were missing. Four of these came in the next day, having taken a
different route than ours through the mountains. Four others turned up
in Libby prison. Most of our men had thrown away their knapsacks, some
their haversacks and canteens, and sixteen had lost their guns.

We remained at Williamsport until June 10, receiving new supplies of
camp and garrison equipage to replace those that had been lost or
destroyed.

We were rejoiced during this time to hear that the Confederates had had
the tables turned on them; that they were being severely pressed between
Shields's and Fremont's armies; and that all the baggage and prisoners
that they had captured from us had been retaken, with a good deal more
besides.

On the morning of June 10 we again crossed into Virginia, and marched to
Front Royal without interruption. We passed through Winchester on the
12th without stopping, however, for the General seemed to fear that our
men would burn the town in return for the treachery of its citizens
during our retreat. Both men and women had fired on us from the windows,
and had poured down scalding water as we passed through the streets. It
was even reported to us that women had entered the hospitals, and shot
sick men in their beds; but this last was later contradicted.

We remained at Front Royal until July 6, during which time important
changes were made in commanding officers. All the troops in northern and
western Virginia were united under General John Pope--the three army
corps being commanded by McDowell, Sigel, and Banks. A movement was made
to concentrate the three corps in one locality east of the Blue Ridge,
in the accomplishment of which we were marched over the mountains at
Chester Gap on the hottest day I ever experienced. Eight men of my
company were sun-struck that afternoon, resulting fatally in one case,
and in permanent disability in the others. We camped at night on the
headwaters of the Rappahannock, in a country described as naturally
poor, and entirely ruined by cultivation. There was one exception to
this, however, in the abundance of fruit. There were cherries and
blackberries in plenty for everybody.

While in camp near Little Washington, the unfortunate, bombastic orders
of General Pope were published to the army; unfortunate, because they
incited a degree of contempt for him which greatly impaired his
usefulness. Many of his highflown phrases, such as "shame and disaster
lurking in the rear," afforded a fine opportunity for the wits of the
army, when, not three weeks later, his headquarters wagon and his
personal baggage were captured by the enemy. About the first of August
he arrived at the front, and on the next Sunday reviewed General Banks's
corps. Pope's fine appearance, soldierly bearing, and evident knowledge
of his business did much to inspire respect, and might even have made
him popular, if we could only have forgotten that fool address to the
army. He inaugurated, also, many real reforms. I don't know whether he
was entirely responsible for it; but under his command the cavalry began
to be of real service to the army, and the men could no longer ask,
"Who ever saw a dead cavalryman?"




_At Cedar Mountain_


On August 7 we broke camp again and marched to Culpeper Court House.
Here we learned that the enemy had been seen in considerable force near
Cedar Mountain. We were not surprised, therefore, on the morning after
our arrival, to be hastily formed and ordered off toward Cedar Mountain.
We arrived at Cedar Run in the early afternoon, and found Crawford's
Brigade of our Division already skirmishing with the enemy. Our Brigade
immediately formed in line of battle on the right of the road, and threw
out its skirmish line. At about four o'clock, my Company and four others
were moved forward to reenforce the skirmishers.

We had crossed Cedar Run Creek, and were waiting for further orders in a
heavy stand of timber, when Captain Wilkins of General Williams's staff
rode up, enquiring for General Banks. Lieutenant-Colonel Crane informed
him that we had seen nothing of General Banks since we entered the
woods. Captain Wilkins then explained to us that General Augur was
meeting with considerable success on the left, and that General Crawford
desired our Brigade to join his in a charge upon the right. The movement
required the sanction of General Banks, who was, however, nowhere to be
found, and time was so pressing that he almost felt justified in giving
the order himself, as coming from General Banks. Captain Wilkins then
turned and rode off, but had not been gone two minutes, and had not, I
am confident, seen General Banks, when he returned, and gave Colonel
Ruger orders to assemble the Regiment on the right of Crawford's Brigade
and charge the enemy's lines.

Our skirmish line was now called in; we formed in line of battle, and
marched through the woods as rapidly as the nature of the ground would
permit. We had soon come to its edge, and found before us an open field
about a hundred and twenty-five yards across, separated from us by a
rail fence. Immediately beyond the field, rose the thickly-timbered
<DW72> of the mountain; and there too, stationed directly in our front,
was a battery of artillery. Of infantry, there were none to be seen.

We hurried forward, pushed down the fence, and without stopping to
reform our line started on a run for that battery. I noticed as we went,
that Crawford's Brigade had not yet arrived, and that we were alone in
the field. Suddenly, from the side of the <DW72> and from the bushes and
rocks on our front, arose the Confederate infantry, and poured into our
ranks the most destructive musketry fire that I have ever experienced.
Lieutenant-Colonel Crane was killed, and fell from his horse at the
first volley. Major Scott was wounded, being carried off by his horse.
Captain Hawley, of the company on our right, was wounded, and a third of
his men were killed or wounded at the same time. The right began to fall
back, some of the men helping off wounded comrades, others loading and
firing at the enemy as they slowly retreated to the woods. On the left,
all three of my companies were standing up to their work without
flinching. My Company, though suffering severely, were fighting like
veterans. We did not seem to be gaining any advantage, however, and
shortly the order came to fall back to the woods. My Company, and that
of Captain O'Brien on the left, were the last to leave the field.

Under the shelter of the woods we reformed our companies. I still had
about twenty-five men, Captain O'Brien about as many more, and a number
of men from Company F had joined me on the right. We at once returned to
the edge of the woods, the Colonel leading back the two left companies,
and opened fire on the enemy, who was preparing to cross the open field.
We soon were sent to the right, however, in order to make room for the
Tenth Maine, and saw no more active fighting for that day. At twilight,
when we were threatened upon our right flank, we returned across Cedar
Run to the ground from which we had started.

Of the 8,000 men that were engaged in this battle, we lost about 2,000
in killed and wounded.

The loss in our Regiment was 117, mostly from the six companies that
started in the charge on the battery. Lieutenant-Colonel Crane was
killed, and Captain O'Brien mortally wounded. O'Brien had at the first
charge been severely wounded in the thigh. When we retreated to the
woods, he had showed me that his shoe was full of blood. He had,
however, returned to the fight after binding up his wound with his
handkerchief, and had been killed at the edge of the woods. My Company
had, out of forty-five men engaged, lost two killed and fourteen
wounded. Of these all but two of the wounded had been struck in the
field where we first drew the enemy's fire, and in a space of time which
I am confident did not exceed three minutes.

As some 30,000 or 40,000 troops were in the vicinity, who had not fired
a shot, I supposed that the battle would be renewed in the morning; but
it was not. The corps of General Sigel and McDowell were moved to the
front, but occupied themselves only with gathering up the wounded. On
the 11th the enemy sent in a flag of truce, asking for an armistice to
bury the dead. This was readily granted, for we also had still on the
battle-field many dead and severely wounded. On the 12th it was found
that the Confederates had taken advantage of the truce to retreat during
the night. Indeed, they retired in such haste that they left large
numbers of their wounded in our hands. General Sigel pursued them to the
Rapidan, while our Corps returned to Culpeper for a much-needed rest.

A great deal of criticism has been heaped upon all those who were
prominently connected with this battle. Banks has been assailed for
fighting the battle at all. It has seemed to many, an inexcusable piece
of folly that he should have ordered the attack in such apparent
ignorance of the position and strength of the enemy, and so near sundown
that even if he had been successful, he could not have reaped any
advantage. I have, however, doubted whether he ever made the order; but
when once it had been made, he was obliged to put in his whole command
or abandon everything that had been gained. Captain Wilkins who brought
the order for our charge, later wandered into the Confederate lines
while carrying orders, and I never heard of him again.

Pope has been criticized for not seeing that Banks was properly
supported; but all the evidence obtainable shows that Pope did not wish
or expect to fight a battle at that time. McDowell has been criticized
with particular bitterness for not going to the aid of Banks, and
charges of treachery were freely made against him. It was quite
generally believed, even in his own command, that McDowell had no heart
in the cause; and this belief--which later gained public expression in
the dying statement of Colonel Brodhead of the First Michigan Cavalry,
that he "died a victim to the incompetency of Pope and the treachery of
McDowell"--caused his retirement as a corps commander.




_The Army retreats Northward_


We remained at Culpeper until August 18, when we were aroused at
midnight and started on the road to the Rappahannock. We crossed over on
the next day and went into camp about half a mile from the river. During
all that day and night the army of General Pope was streaming across the
Rappahannock to the north side, only a portion of his cavalry still
remaining to the south. There was a great deal of speculation among the
men as to the reason for this unexpected retrograde movement. It was
rumored that General McClellan had been compelled to withdraw his army
from the Peninsula, and that General Lee, released from the defence of
Richmond, was marching our way. For once, rumor was correct. It was not
many days before the whole of Lee's army was hunting to find an
unguarded point at which to cross the river.

About noon on the day after our crossing, I was watching the movements
of some of our cavalry who still remained on the other side of the
river. I was standing on the top of one of the highest knolls in the
vicinity, from which I had a splendid view of the country for a long
distance southward. For nearly two miles the land was clear of timber or
fences or any obstacle which could impede the movements of cavalry.
Observing that our cavalry seemed to be coming back at rather a livelier
pace than usual, I noticed what appeared to be either a large regiment
or a small brigade of Confederate cavalry emerge from the woods to the
south of the plain. They formed their lines and moved to the attack.

Our men, also, were soon in motion. As they approached each other the
two bodies increased their pace, until both seemed to be moving at full
speed. They met with a jar, and for some moments it was impossible to
distinguish friend from foe. There could only be distinctly seen the
flashing of sabres in the sunlight as blows were struck and parried, and
the puffs of smoke from revolvers and carbines. For ten minutes or more
the stirring fight went on without any apparent advantage to either
side. But now another regiment of our cavalry, which had been out of
sight up the river at the beginning of the fight, came down upon the
Confederates at a hard gallop. It was but a minute before the latter
were retreating back to the timber, perhaps hurried a little by a few
shells from one of our shore batteries. A little later, I learned that
our cavalry had taken about sixty prisoners.

On the night of August 22 the enemy were expected to make an attempt to
cross the Rappahannock at Beverly Ford, where I was stationed on picket
duty. During the night, however, the river rose almost ten feet as the
result of heavy rains in the mountains. By morning, it was so raging a
torrent that crossing was impossible. As soon as it was light, the
enemy opened fire on us with fourteen pieces of artillery. I had already
withdrawn my men from the river bank and stationed them where they could
pour a heavy fire upon the Confederates, should they attempt to lay a
bridge. I was therefore in a good position to watch at leisure the
artillery duel which ensued. For two hours the shot flew back and forth
across the stream, without, however, great damage to our side. At the
end of that time the Confederates apparently had had enough and withdrew
from their position.

The succeeding days were passed in hard marching, with hot weather, no
tents or blankets, short rations, and a poor country to forage in. The
enemy occasionally made demonstration as though to cross at the fords of
the Rappahannock, but all the while moving up toward the mountains. On
the evening of August 27, while we were in camp near Warrenton Junction,
rumors began to circulate that they had appeared in large force at
Manassas Junction, and were threatening to cut off our retreat to
Washington. The next morning we were called out at three o'clock, and
soon after were on the road to the Junction. The corps of Generals
Heintzelman and Fitz-John Porter, which had been marching toward
Warrenton, had also been turned back and were directly in our advance.
We marched rapidly to Kettle River, a small stream about five miles from
the Junction, where we were detailed to guard a train of ninety cars
loaded with ammunition and provisions for our army. Here we learned that
the enemy had on the previous day captured and destroyed at the Junction
over a hundred and fifty cars loaded with supplies, but had in the
morning encountered Hooker's advance division near Kettle Run, and had
been driven with considerable loss beyond the Junction. We found on our
arrival at Kettle Run, tangible evidence of the morning's fight, for a
good many of the dead were still lying around.

Cannonading commenced early on the morning after our arrival, in the
direction of Manassas, and continued all day. It was evident that a
severe battle was in progress. Reports of our successes were continually
coming in; we appeared to be driving the enemy at all points. It was
said that the Confederates were surrounded on three sides, and hopes
were strong that they would be captured before the main body of their
army came up. The next morning, the battle was still in progress
although it seemed to be farther away than it had been before. The most
encouraging reports continued to reach us, and at night General Pope was
credited with having said that our troops had won a complete victory.

While the battle was in progress, we had been occupied in rebuilding the
bridge across Kettle Run, which the enemy had destroyed on the first day
of their raid. We had it completed, and our train of cars moved across
to Bristoe Station by the morning of the second day of the battle. We
bivouacked that night north of Broad Run, happy in the thought that our
troops had indeed vanquished the foe.

The next morning we were ordered to return to Bristoe. As we approached
the station, dense clouds of smoke were rolling upwards from the place
where we had left our cars. This gave us notice that the reports of
victory had been false. The fact was, that the left wing of Pope's army
had been driven back the night before, and it had been necessary to burn
the cars in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy.
It had been possible to save only the supplies with which they were
loaded. Our Corps, moreover, having received no notice of the reverse,
was now in grave danger of being cut off from the remainder of the army.
We managed, however, by rapid marching over a circuitous route to reach
the north side of Bull Run in safety.

The next day we marched to a short distance beyond Centerville. Here we
were halted, and stood in the road on our arms during a driving rain,
while the battle of Chantilly was being fought only a short distance to
the north. We remained standing in the road--or at least were supposed
to be standing--all that night, the rain pouring down in torrents most
of the time. After darkness had set in, however, the men quietly began
to disappear into the neighboring woods, and soon I alone of all my
Company was actually standing in the road. I was not greatly troubled
over the breach of orders, for I knew that at the first intimation of
danger every man would be in his place. I too found for myself as dry a
place as possible, and wrapping my rubber coat about me, tried to
secure a snatch of much-needed sleep. But I soon awoke so thoroughly
wet and cold that further slumber was out of the question. I thereupon
sought a fire that some soldiers had built, and endeavored to extract a
bit of comfort from its friendly heat. Just as I was beginning to feel
its warmth, a number of staff officers came along and ordered the blaze
extinguished, for, said they, it was against the orders of General
Banks. I stepped back into the darkness so as not to be recognized,
concluding that if General Banks wanted that fire put out, he would get
no help from me. The men standing near, however, kicked the burning
brands apart as though to put it out, and the officers passed on. But
they were not fifty feet away before the fire had been rekindled and was
again dispensing cheer. This scene was repeated at frequent intervals
until daylight, the fire continuing to burn in spite of all orders.

That morning we took the road about nine, and marched until midnight. On
the morning after, we found that we were within the fortifications of
Alexandria. Two days later we crossed the Potomac at Georgetown, and
went into camp at Tennalleytown, D. C. Our wagons and camp equipage had
preceded us. A mail also was awaiting us, the first that we had received
since leaving Culpeper Court House.

We now had leisure to reflect upon our situation. It was indeed
humiliating. Here we were, after six months of campaigning, back again
at the point where we had started. The Grand Army of the Potomac forced
to seek the shelter of the fortifications of Washington! The actual
fighting had usually been in our favor. Why was it, then, that we had
been forced back? We believed that the answer lay entirely in the fact
that we had been outgeneralled. We felt that Pope and McDowell were the
Jonahs who should go overboard. And overboard they went, not to be heard
of again during the war. The reappointment of McClellan to command was
everywhere received with pleasure. So far as my acquaintance went, the
feeling was unanimous in his favor.

For several days we remained in camp enjoying the luxury of tents and
beds after our strenuous experiences on the march. New regiments were in
the meantime assigned to the old brigades. Ours received the Thirteenth
New Jersey and the One Hundred Seventh New York, with a new corps
commander in the person of General Mansfield.




_Moving Toward the Enemy_


On September 5 it was definitely rumored in camp that the enemy had
crossed into Maryland by way of Edward's Ferry. All of the Army of the
Potomac were soon after moving up the river toward Darnestown, where a
defensive position was taken and the enemy's movements awaited. There
were no further developments until the 10th, when an order came from
General McClellan to store in Washington all of the officers' baggage
and the company tents and property, and turn over the teams to be used
in hauling provisions and ammunition. This looked more like business
than anything we had yet seen.

The next morning we began to move in earnest, passing through
Darnestown, and on toward Frederick City. On the 12th we made a long
march to Ijamsville, where we heard from one party of citizens that the
enemy were evacuating Frederick City, and from another that they were
preparing to fight us at the crossing of the Monocacy River. In the
morning, we were early on the road, marching rapidly to the ford of the
Monocacy, and crossing without trouble. As we approached Frederick, we
could hear the firing of the advance of Burnside's Corps, as they were
driving the rear guard of the retreating enemy from the passes of the
Catoctin Mountains, about five miles west of the city. Over 800
prisoners were sent back that day, mostly stragglers and deserters, who
had soldiered as long as they wished.

That night we camped near Frederick City, a large portion of our
Regiment taking advantage of the opportunity to visit old friends and
acquaintances in that place. We had been there so long during the past
year that it seemed to us almost like home. The Confederates had been in
possession for nearly a week, and many stories were told of the good
people who had displayed their loyalty under adverse circumstances. The
real heroine of the town was old Barbara Fritchie, who had kept a Union
flag waving from her window during all the time of the Confederate
occupation. Her name has been immortalized by Whittier. I know that in
recent years it has been said that no such person ever lived, and that
the flag was not displayed. But I heard the story told within
twenty-four hours after the Confederate army had left Frederick, from
persons who knew the circumstances, and I am going to believe it until
there is more positive proof than I have yet seen, that it is not true.




_Battle of South Mountain_


We were ready to march by four o'clock on the morning of the 14th. But
we might as well have stayed in camp until seven. The road west from
Frederick was a fine, broad turnpike, wide enough for two or three
wagons abreast, but it was now completely choked with the ammunition and
provision wagons of the troops in advance. Even after we did finally get
started, and were clear of the town, we had to march through the fields
and woods on either side of the road.

When we reached the top of the Catoctin Mountains, we could hear the
sound of artillery and musketry fire on the next mountain ridge beyond.
Occasionally we could even catch a glimpse of the lines of our troops as
they moved up the <DW72>s to assault the position of the enemy. We were
now rapidly marched down the mountain and turned off by a circuitous
route to the right, in order to strike the enemy on the left flank.
Before we could reach their position, however, it had already been
carried by assault, and the enemy had taken advantage of the darkness to
make good their retreat. Such was the battle of South Mountain.

We now countermarched to the turnpike near Middletown, where we went
into camp at one o'clock in the morning. We had been on the road for
twenty-two consecutive hours, most of the time climbing over rocks and
through brush on the mountain side. Again we were on the march, at eight
o'clock the next morning, crossing South Mountain as we had crossed the
Catoctin Mountains, with the wagon train occupying the road and the
troops in the woods along the side. We passed through Boonsborough in
the afternoon, and by night had reached nearly to Keedysville.

The road was strewn with the muskets and other accoutrements of the
enemy fleeing from South Mountain, together with a great deal of
plunder that they had gathered in Maryland. There was every indication
that they had retreated in a state of demoralization. The houses in
Boonsborough and the vicinity were filled with their wounded, and we
were constantly meeting squads of from twenty to one hundred prisoners
who were being sent back from the front. Occasional artillery firing in
the front seemed to indicate that we were being waited for not far
ahead.




_Battle of Antietam_


On the morning of the 16th we moved forward to a position behind a range
of low hills near Antietam Creek, and there we remained until night,
undisturbed save by occasional shots from the enemy's batteries, posted
in the hills on the opposite side of the creek. The remainder of our
army kept coming up all day, taking position as they arrived, until at
night it was understood that they were all at hand with the exception of
Franklin's Corps, which had gone to the relief of Harpers Ferry. At
about nine o'clock we were called up and moved across Antietam Creek,
close to the enemy's lines, where we lay down to secure such rest as we
might in preparation for the next day's fight. General Hooker's Corps
lay in position, just in front of us.

It was reported that night that Harpers Ferry had been surrendered by
Colonel Miles without a struggle, and when the relieving force of
General Franklin was within three miles. It was rumored also that Miles
had been shot by the men of his own command when they learned that they
had been surrendered.

We were awakened soon after daylight by the sound of heavy cannonading
in the front. It had been raining during the night, but now the sky was
clear and the sun shining. The men hurried into the ranks, and the Corps
formed in close column by companies. We moved a short distance to the
right, then sat down to await developments. As battery after battery
came into action, the artillery firing continually increased in
rapidity, until for a few minutes the roar would be continuous. Then
there would be a lull, and the sharp crack of the musketry would be
heard, as the skirmishers pushed forward through the timber. Now the
scattering musketry fire increased into crashing volleys; as more and
more troops became engaged, the volleys developed into one continuous
roar, like the roll of distant thunder.

Within a few minutes we became aware by sight, as well as by sound, that
a bloody battle was in progress; a constant stream of wounded men was
coming back to the field hospital in the rear. Many were but slightly
wounded and still clung to their muskets as they hurried back to have
their wounds dressed. They would stop on their way, for a moment,
hastily to tell how they were "driving the Johnnies" in the front.
Others, more seriously hurt, were being helped along by comrades; while
others, still more unfortunate, lay silent on stretchers as they were
borne back by ambulance men and musicians. Soon, a number of ammunition
wagons which had ventured too close to the front, came dashing by us to
seek shelter behind a neighboring hill. They were followed shortly after
by a dismounted cannon being dragged back for repairs. Now came a
temporary lull in the musketry. The thunder of the artillery increased
as if in compensation; but rising above all came the cheers of our
comrades in the front, announcing that the opening engagement had ended
in victory.

The pause in the musketry was of short duration. The enemy, largely
reenforced, soon attacked in their turn, making desperate efforts to
regain the ground that they had lost. Upon our side, more troops to the
right and left came into action, and the battle was soon raging again
with redoubled fury. The enemy in our immediate front seemed to have
largely increased their artillery, and scattering shot and shell were
dropping around us.

At length our First Brigade was sent into action. We soon followed, at
double-quick, in close column by companies. Passing rapidly through the
woods, we emerged upon the field a little northeast of the old Dunkard
church, and our Regiment deployed in line. The manoeuvre was executed as
though we had been on a parade ground instead of a battle-field. I have
seldom seen it better done.

Immediately on our right and about one hundred yards to the front, was
posted one of our batteries of twelve-pound brass guns. It had evidently
been in action for some time. All of its horses were killed or
crippled, and the gunners were just falling back before the advancing
Confederate line of battle. To the left of the battery, and stretching
off to the woods directly in our front, stood the remnants of a brigade,
still stubbornly contesting the advance of the enemy's infantry. Our
Regiment moved forward to the battery, the artillerymen at the same time
returning to their guns. The Second Massachusetts took position to the
right; the Twenty-Seventh Indiana came up on the left.

The Confederate infantry moved steadily across the corn-field, while the
decimated brigade in its path fell back, step by step. We were obliged
to wait before commencing fire, until they could be moved out of the
way. Then we opened fire from one end of the line to the other. The
enemy were handicapped by the fact that they were moving diagonally
across our front, instead of directly toward us, and our fire was
terribly severe, so it was not long before they broke and ran back to
the woods. Immediately, however, another line was coming up, this time
confronting us squarely. And now commenced the work in earnest.

Our position was in a stubble-field. The ground in front of us sloped
gently downward, so that we were fifteen or twenty feet higher than the
enemy. About a hundred yards in our front was a rail fence, beyond which
lay another open field. The previous day, that field had contained a
luxuriant growth of ripening corn; now it was cut by bullets and
trampled by men and horses, until scarce a vestige of the crop remained.

For a time, the enemy came on rapidly, without firing a shot. Their
right, like our left, was "in the air" and about even with us. They were
as gallant fellows as ever moved to an assault. One could but admire the
steady courage with which they approached us; great gaps being made in
their lines at every discharge of our grape- and canister-laden
twelve-pounders, and our bullets also wore them away at every step. A
portion of these stern fighters reached the fence; none came farther.
They there stopped and opened fire on our lines. From our higher ground
we could see the steady stream of their wounded being helped to the
rear. Still they held on, returning fire for fire; and we too were
suffering terribly. At length the Confederates had been reduced to a
mere handful; it was hopeless to hold on any longer, and they fell back
toward the woods. But before they had reached there, another of their
brigades was coming up behind them. The newcomers, however, halted and
opened fire at nearly double the distance that their predecessors had
taken. Soon they also began to waver, then suddenly broke, and joined
their comrades in the flight to the woods.

As they all disappeared toward the timber, General Hooker rode up and
ordered us to fix bayonets and pursue. With a whoop and hurrah our
Regiment and the Twenty-Seventh Indiana started down through the
corn-field, General Hooker himself leading like a captain. It was such
traits as this that made him popular, even with those who did not think
him fit for high command. We had passed fairly into the corn-field,
which was literally strewn with the dead bodies of Confederates, when a
staff officer rode up, and ordered us to get out of the way, for General
Sumner wished to put in a division at that point. This was all that
prevented us from assaulting a position with about a hundred and fifty
men, which a few minutes later Sedgwick's Division, with five or six
thousand, failed to carry.

We moved back out of the corn-field to our old position, and immediately
after Sedgwick's Division came in from the northeast. As they moved
forward in perfect line to the attack, they presented a splendid sight,
even to old soldiers, and we had little doubt that they would sweep
everything before them. They marched in three parallel lines, one behind
the other, and about seventy-five yards apart. The brigade and field
officers, aware of the peculiar danger of being on horseback in such a
place, all marched with their men on foot. The only mounted officer in
the entire division was old General Sumner himself, who rode a little in
the rear of his first line. He was then nearly seventy years of age,
perfectly grey but still proudly erect. As he stretched his tall form to
its full height on his horse, in order to see what might be in front of
his men, he was the most conspicuous object on the field, and
undoubtedly was the target for every Confederate sharpshooter in sight.

No resistance of consequence was met until the advance brigade was out
of sight in the woods, and the Second Brigade was just at the edge. Then
a heavy musketry fire showed that the enemy had reformed their lines and
were making a stubborn fight. Their artillery also now opened fire, and
shells and round shot began to fall in our neighborhood. It soon became
evident to us, who were spectators of the fight, that General Sumner's
formation had been a serious mistake. His second and third brigades were
exposed to a heavy fire from the enemy, yet they could not reply on
account of the line in front of them. They soon broke up in confusion,
therefore, and fell back out of range. The leading brigade held on for
over half an hour, to the position that it had gained in the woods, when
it also fell back, with but a small portion of the magnificent line
which a short time before had so gallantly gone forward to the attack.

The remnant of our Regiment, together with portions of several other
like commands, were now stationed at the edge of the woods behind a
battery of artillery. There was little more active fighting, however, in
that part of the field during the remainder of the day. At one time the
enemy made an attempt to recover the lost ground in the corn-field, but
the batteries easily drove them back to the woods. Soon after twelve
o'clock we were relieved by fresh troops and moved a short distance to
the rear. With the friendly aid of a rail fence we now built a fire, and
prepared our dinner of hardtack and coffee, and remained quiet for the
rest of the day. To the left the firing continued until late in the
afternoon.

Many of our gallant boys laid down their lives that bloody day on the
battle-field of Antietam. In the morning, our Regiment had taken into
the fight twelve officers and not quite 300 enlisted men. The number was
thus small because our wounded from Cedar Mountain had not yet rejoined
us, and hard marching had sent others to the hospital. Of the twelve
officers, we lost one killed and seven severely wounded. The Colonel had
been hit in the head by a bullet, which had cut just deep enough to draw
blood; while I had received a severe bruise from a spent ball. Of our
300 privates, we lost 194 in killed and wounded. The Twenty-Seventh
Indiana on our left, had lost about half of its men; the Second
Massachusetts on the right, had suffered in about the same proportion.

In my Company, of the thirty men whom I took into the field, two had
been killed, two mortally wounded, and sixteen so severely hurt, that
they were ordered to the hospital. Of all that Company, only one had
escaped without the mark of a bullet upon his person or his clothes.
Every one of our color-guard, composed of a corporal from each company,
had been shot down before the battle was over. As its bearers fell, the
flag had been passed along the line until it had come into the hands of
one of my privates, Joseph Collins, who carried it the remainder of the
day. The color-bearers of the enemy had been even more unfortunate. On
our charge into the corn-field, our men picked up several of their
banners that had fallen with their bearers.

When night at length put a merciful end to the battle, all along the
line, both thoroughly-worn-out armies were, I am sure, glad for the
chance to rest. I know that I, for one, was completely exhausted. The
sun had scarcely set before I had wrapped myself in my overcoat, and
with my haversack for a pillow, was sound asleep, quite oblivious of the
fact that the field of the dead was only a few steps away. In the
morning we were early astir expecting a renewal of the fight. Our men
threw away all of their old muskets, and armed themselves with the new
Springfield rifles of the improved pattern, picked up on the
battle-field. Ammunition and rations were issued, and every preparation
made to receive the enemy. All was quiet, however, and so remained for
the rest of the day. At about noon, General Franklin's Corps came up
from Harpers Ferry and took position on our right.

During that afternoon I went over the corn-field that had been the scene
of the hardest fighting the previous day. It was a sight which once seen
could never be forgotten. The dead lay as they had fallen, and in such
dreadful numbers! Several times had the ground been fought over; the
bodies of brave men were so thickly strewn over it, that one might for
rods have walked on corpses without touching the ground.

When we advanced our lines, the morning of the 19th, the enemy had
disappeared. Only his picket line still remained, and that surrendered
without resistance. These prisoners appeared to be dazed with
discouragement; many of them seemed glad to have been taken. Like the
thousands whom we had captured during the heat of the battle, they were
destitute of clothing, and their haversacks contained nothing but raw
corn.




_In Winter Quarters_


So far as we were concerned, the battle of Antietam ended active
campaigning for the winter of 1862. During the next two months we moved
about between Harpers Ferry and the mouth of Antietam Creek, doing
occasional guard duty, and for the most part passing the time
uneventfully. On October 1 President Lincoln visited our camp at
Maryland Heights. It seemed to me that he did full justice to his
reputation for homeliness. He came entirely unannounced, but we
hurriedly turned out the Regiment and presented arms. For a time, on
account of their greenness, the new regiments in camp furnished a source
of amusement. Most of them had received large bounties on enlistment,
and the old soldiers taunted them as bounty-bought; they were told that
the Government could have secured mules much cheaper.

On November 13 came my commission as First Lieutenant of Company E. This
did not materially change my position, for I had been in command of a
company ever since the battle of Antietam. On November 17 we went into
winter camp at Fairfax Station, but sometime in January removed to
Stafford Court House. In the meantime McClellan had been finally removed
from the command of the Army of the Potomac; and Burnside, who had
followed him, had in his turn, been relieved after the battle of
Fredericksburg, by General Joe Hooker.

Hooker was evidently determined to build up a thoroughly efficient army,
and spent the winter in constant efforts toward improving the condition
and effectiveness of his troops. Inspections became extremely rigid;
they extended not only to arms and equipment, but to camp and garrison
equipage, policing, and sanitation. Regiments reaching the highest
standard for general efficiency and appearance were awarded leaves of
absence for two officers at a time for fifteen days each, and furloughs
for two men at a time, in each company, for the same period. Regiments
that at first were not up to standard, were in the course of the winter
given their furloughs as they attained efficiency.

Our Regiment was one of the eleven in the entire army which, when the
first inspection was made, proved to be in the highest degree of
efficiency. Leaves of absence and furloughs commenced at once, and
before spring all who cared to go had a chance to visit their homes. The
distance to Wisconsin was too great to make it profitable for me to
return; so I visited a sister in New York State, taking advantage of
this opportunity to see the sights of New York City and Washington.

During the winter the army was gradually strengthened by the return of
convalescents. Thus our Regiment was able by spring once more to muster
about 400 muskets. Many of the permanently disabled officers were
transferred to the invalid corps, and those who were sick were
discharged, thus giving way to more vigorous and able-bodied men. The
army was now in the best condition that it had ever been in, and we all
looked forward to a successful campaign.




_Chancellorsville_


On the morning of April 27, 1863, we left our winter camp at Stafford
Court House and marched to Kelly's Ford on the Rappahannock. Pontoon
bridges had been laid ahead of us, and the Eleventh Corps had already
crossed. Early on the morning of the 29th, we followed, and started at
once for Germanna Ford on the Rapidan, twelve miles off. Three corps of
the Army of the Potomac were engaged in the expedition--the Fifth,
Eleventh and Twelfth. Our Corps, the Twelfth, after crossing, pushed on
to the head of the column, and our Brigade was given the position of
honor in the advance. We carried eight days' rations and a hundred
rounds of ammunition. In addition, several pack mules laden with boxes
of cartridges followed each regiment, so that we felt sure we were out
for business. The men were in good spirits, however, and
notwithstanding the heavy loads marched rapidly.

We arrived at the ford in about four hours, without alarming the enemy.
A portion of the Regiment were deployed as skirmishers under cover of
the woods, three or four hundred yards from the river bank. At the word
of command they moved on the run down to the river. Here each man
hastily found for himself such shelter as he could, behind trees and
brush, and opened fire on the enemy who were occupying some buildings on
the opposite side. As we approached the river about a dozen Confederates
started to run up the hill back of their position, in an attempt to
escape. Our men were excellent marksmen, however, and after two had been
killed and several others wounded, the rest of the enemy hastened back
to the shelter of the buildings. Occasionally some fellow would fire at
us from a window, but the puff of smoke from his gun would make him
immediately the target for every musket within range, and that practice
was soon discouraged. In less than ten minutes from the time when the
skirmish commenced, the Southerners had hung out a white rag and
surrendered. The swift-flowing Rapidan, nearly three hundred feet wide,
separated them from us, but we compelled them to wade over. In this way,
without a casualty to ourselves, we bagged 101 prisoners, and not a man
escaped to the enemy to give warning of our approach.

We had just secured our prisoners when General Slocum came up. He
immediately took in the situation, and ordered us to cross the river and
secure the heights on the other side. We had had a good time laughing at
our prisoners as we made them cross over to us, with the water up to
their armpits; but when we had to go in ourselves, it did not seem so
funny. It was still early in the spring, and the water was icy cold from
the melting snow in the mountains. Moreover, the current was so swift
that some mounted officers and cavalry who went in ahead of us could
scarcely keep a footing. If a horse stumbled, he was washed off his feet
in an instant and carried down stream. In fact, one man was drowned in
such an accident, and several others had narrow escapes. We prepared for
crossing by placing our ammunition and provisions, and such valuables
as would be injured by the water, on the ends of the muskets or on our
heads, and plunged in. We had the small men distributed among the large
ones, and in this way crossed without serious trouble. We were followed
in the same manner by the Second Massachusetts. Once across we pushed
rapidly for the hill overlooking the ford, where we took a strong
position and threw out our pickets.

The pontoon train had by this time come up, and a bridge was soon built.
The remainder of our Corps and the Eleventh Corps then crossed and went
into camp ahead of us. We now gathered about our fires, and dried out
our clothes in order to have them once more in comfortable shape by
bed-time.

The next morning we moved to Chancellorsville, where we arrived early in
the day. It is a very big name for a very small place; at that time it
contained only one house. The position which we had thus gained
uncovered the road to United States Ford, on the Rappahannock. Here
another pontoon bridge was laid, and General Hooker crossed it with his
force. We were all in the best of spirits, for in securing this
advantage of position we thought that the victory had already been
gained.

On the morning of May 1 our Brigade engaged in a successful
reconnoissance toward Fredericksburg, in which we captured a number of
prisoners. On our return to Chancellorsville we were sent to occupy a
slight rise of ground at Hazel Grove, about a mile southwest of
Chancellor House. Here, in a sharp skirmish with the enemy,
Lieutenant-Colonel Scott was shot through the head by a chance ball and
instantly killed. During the afternoon, General Hooker rode around the
lines, jubilant over the success of his movements. Several times he
remarked that now he had got the Confederates where he wanted them, and
they would have to fight us on our own ground or be destroyed. At that
time the army still had unbounded confidence in him; but it seemed to me
a bit curious that the man who was ready at Antietam to lead 150 men to
a charge on the whole Southern army, should now get into entrenchment
when he had at his command 150,000 soldiers.

The night passed off without incident. At about ten o'clock the next
morning it was discovered that the enemy were moving wagon trains toward
the southwest. Birney's Division of the Fifth Corps, which had been in
position somewhere in our rear, was sent out at about noon to stop them.
A sharp musketry fire for a minute or two indicated to us that the
attack had been made, and soon after several hundred Southern prisoners
were sent back to us under guard. At about four in the afternoon, our
Regiment was ordered to deploy as skirmishers through the woods upon the
left of Birney, to capture Confederate stragglers who were believed to
be lurking there in large numbers. Obedient to these orders we piled up
our knapsacks, overcoats, and other baggage, behind the breastworks we
had built, and moved forward into the woods. We had advanced about half
a mile from our entrenchments, when the storm broke loose in the rear.
The army of Stonewall Jackson had struck the Eleventh Corps in the flank
and rear, and had brushed it away like a swarm of flies before a
hurricane. I was afterward told that the defeated Corps came tumbling
along through the woods, an indiscriminate mass of flying men, pack
mules with their packs turned, and stray artillery horses. Nor did they
bring up until they were stopped at Chancellorsville by three regiments
of Hooker's cavalry. However, the best troops in the world could not, if
struck in the same way, have stood against such an attack.

Our line was now halted to await developments. Very soon a Confederate
battery was in position on the hill which we had just left, and was
throwing shells over toward Chancellor House. Directly in our front, to
the south, another battery was firing in the same direction. We were
hidden from this second battery by timber and underbrush, but were so
close to it that in the intervals of the firing we could distinctly hear
the strokes of swabs and rammers as the guns were swabbed out, and the
charges rammed home. From my position I could see the battery near our
old entrenchments, as it came up and commenced firing. However, it did
not remain there long. The fire from our own batteries, near the
Chancellor House, blew up two caissons or their limber chests, and the
rest of the Southern battery sought a safer place.

The roar of artillery and musketry still continued around the Chancellor
House and to the west of it; but we could tell by the sound of the
firing that the Confederate advance had been stayed. By seven o'clock
darkness had settled over the field, bringing with it for a time
comparative quiet. We began to look around now, for a way out of the
woods, and back to our Corps. Our scouts soon found that Geary's
Division still held the entrenchments which they had built the night
before, and that we might return safely through their lines to the
Chancellor House. By nine o'clock, therefore, we were once more in line
of battle with the rest of the Brigade, in the woods west of the House.

Shortly after our return, occurred the confusion in which Stonewall
Jackson was mortally wounded. Our picket line had been driven in by the
enemy, and we had fired a volley or two into the woods on our front. At
the same time we had been fired on in the darkness by the Thirteenth New
Jersey. General Jackson was struck just at this time, in the woods into
which we had fired. It has been presumed that he was hit by his own
men, but there is a possibility that the bullet came from the Third
Wisconsin.

We secured but little sleep that night. Our artillery continued throwing
shot and shell over our heads into the woods fronting us, where the
enemy were supposed to be in force. At midnight the Confederates again
attacked us; but Birney's Division, which had been cut off from us in
the afternoon by Jackson's attack, struck them with fixed bayonets in
the flank at the same time that we opened on them in the front--and of
course we made short work of them. We had now regained the ground where
we had left our knapsacks, but for fear of another attack, the officers
would not let us go up after them. So we shivered miserably through the
night, and in the morning arose thoroughly chilled.

The enemy, however, soon gave us enough to do to warm our blood.
Birney's Division had, during the night, taken a new position in our
advance, at Hazel Grove. It was attacked early Sunday morning, and in
the course of an hour driven back with the reported loss of one of its
batteries. As Birney's men passed back over us, the enemy came on,
flushed with victory, and in some disorder. But in a few minutes we sent
them back, in worse disorder than they had come. We followed them for a
quarter of a mile, but there encountered a second line. In a short time
we had the satisfaction of seeing their backs, also, dimly in the
distance. Colonel Colgrove of the Twenty-Seventh Indiana, who was
commanding the Brigade, now ordered a bayonet charge; but before we were
fairly started, General Ruger sent orders not to advance any farther.
Soon the enemy attacked again; but after a stubborn fight we sent them
back for a third time, their ranks disorganized and the ground thickly
strewn with their dead.

It was now near nine o'clock. We had been fighting continuously for
three hours, and all of the ammunition that we carried had been
exhausted. That carried by the pack mules had been distributed, also,
and was nearly all fired away. The muskets had become so heated and foul
that it was difficult to load them. Some of the pieces were so hot that
the cartridge would explode as soon as it struck the bottom of the gun,
and before the man had been able to aim. Because of this, we were
relieved by a fresh brigade, and marched back about a mile to the rear.
From there we were sent to a position a little northeast of the
Chancellor House, where we built breastworks and remained until the army
was withdrawn across the river.

All the rest of the day we could hear the firing to our right, and the
next day, off in the direction of Fredericksburg, where Sedgwick's Corps
was engaged; but we made no move. We only sat around, wearily watching
the time pass away, until the night of the 5th, when preparations began
to be made for the withdrawal of the army to the north bank of the
river. The night was cold and rainy. Our blankets and overcoats had been
lost, for we had left them on the second night of the battle to pick up
stragglers, and fires were not permitted, lest they reveal our movement.
As we shivered through the long, dark hours, all the admiration vanished
that we had previously felt for Fighting Joe Hooker.

Toward day we silently withdrew from the entrenchments we had made, and
marched off to the river. We found when we came near, however, that the
approaches to the bridge were still crowded with the moving troops; we
had, therefore, to double-quick back to the entrenchments, and wait
until the bridge was cleared. Then we crossed over, the last of the
army, entirely unmolested except for a few shells thrown by a
Confederate battery.

We now returned to Stafford Court House, and at night pitched our tents
on the very ground we had left ten days before. We were all thoroughly
discouraged over the outcome of our expedition, and feeling, as one of
our officers expressed it, "that we had gone out for wool, and come back
shorn." The old soldiers who took part in that movement cannot think of
it, to this day, but with the strongest feelings of disgust.

The camp that we occupied on our return to Stafford Court House was one
of the best we ever had. It was an old orchard, with a vacant field near
by for a drill and parade ground. Our friends, the Second Massachusetts,
occupied one end of the orchard and we the other. Between us was a good
baseball ground, where we amused ourselves at playing ball or pitching
quoits. Every night after supper, the officers of the two regiments
would get together for a big game, while the rank and file would follow
suit, and our drill ground would present an animated sight. Thus we
whiled away the time with considerable comfort, often speculating on the
possibility of the enemy coming across the river to attack us. So many
regiments of two-year men and nine-months men were being mustered out of
the service, that we did not consider it at all likely that we would
cross the river until our ranks were filled by the conscription which
had then been ordered.




_A Cavalry Expedition_


On June 6 this easy life came to an end. The company commanders of our
Regiment were summoned to the Colonel's tent, and informed that the
Regiment had been selected to accompany a cavalry expedition. We were
instructed to leave behind all baggage not carried on the persons of the
men, and to take only those who could march thirty miles a day. The
expedition was to be composed of the two best regiments in each
corps--the Second Massachusetts and ourselves having been selected from
the Twelfth.

We left our camp at about six o'clock and marched that night to Spott
Tavern, fifteen miles away. The next day we reached Bealeton Station,
where we bivouacked in the woods until the night of the 8th, awaiting
the arrival of our cavalry. We were joined here by a number of other
regiments, the whole force being under command of General Ames. Our
State pride was highly gratified to find four Wisconsin regiments in
this detail of picked commands from every corps.

On the night of the 8th, our whole force, infantry, artillery, and
cavalry, moved down to the Rappahannock at Beverly Ford. The next
morning, a portion of the Third Wisconsin was deployed to cover the
crossing; but the enemy had not discovered us, and we passed over
without trouble. The cavalry now pushed on to Brandy Station, on the
railroad; the infantry following, with our detachment in the lead. The
cavalry were soon briskly engaged, and in a little while Colonel Davis,
their commanding officer, was brought back mortally wounded. The
infantry was now disposed on the flanks, to guard the cavalry from being
taken at a disadvantage. The fighting soon became general, being mostly
by detached companies deployed as skirmishers. At one time, in advancing
with my Company to clear out a piece of woods, I had a lively fight for
a short time; five men out of the twenty with me were severely wounded
before we drove the enemy from their shelter. At another time, Company D
succeeded in getting on the flank and rear of a North Carolina regiment,
and captured over a hundred prisoners. Some of our cavalry regiments
were pretty severely handled at the beginning of the fight, especially
before the infantry came up. On the whole, however, the expedition was a
success, resulting in the capture of the headquarters of the Confederate
cavalry leader, General J. E. B. Stuart, together with many valuable
papers and orders relating to the contemplated invasion of the North.




_Gettysburg_


We now recrossed Beverly Ford and went into camp until the 12th. Then we
learned that the Confederate army was on the move toward the North, and
that our army was marching to Manassas Junction and Centerville. We
therefore marched in the same direction, and on the 16th rejoined our
Corps near Centerville. Reaching Leesburg on the 18th, we went into
camp. We had no definite information as to the location of the
Confederate army, but rather suspected that it was moving into the
Shenandoah Valley. This suspicion was confirmed when we learned that
they had occupied Winchester and Martinsburg. We heard of them next as
crossing the Potomac at Williamsport and marching into Pennsylvania.

During our stay at Leesburg, several men from a New York regiment were
shot for desertion. They were the first executions for that crime in our
army, and for a time, they produced a great sensation. On the 26th we
crossed the Potomac at Edward's Ferry, and proceeded up the river to the
mouth of the Monocacy; thence we moved across to Frederick City, where
we went into camp early on the afternoon of the 28th.

During the night I learned that our Division was under marching orders
to strike for Williamsport in the morning, and destroy the bridge on
which the enemy had crossed the Potomac. We were to destroy, also, all
boats and ferries that might be used by the Confederates in a retreat.
Then we were to rejoin the army if we could; if not, to move west to
Cumberland, and rejoin as opportunity offered. With morning, however,
came a change of commanders, and with it also, a change of orders.
General Hooker had been superseded by General Meade, and now we were
ordered northward to follow the army that had gone ahead.

At noon on July 1, while we were preparing our dinner at Two Taverns,
some eight miles south of Gettysburg, the distant rumbling of artillery
to the north announced to us the opening of a great battle. The
cannonading became more and more furious as the minutes passed, until in
the distance it sounded like one continual roll of thunder. At length
came the order to march, and in five minutes we were on the road to the
front as fast as our strength could take us. As we trudged along, we met
hundreds of Confederate prisoners being sent to the rear, as well as a
good many of our own wounded, on their way to the field hospitals. Of
stragglers, there were exceptionally few.

On the run we reached Cemetery Ridge, where we learned that the First
and Eleventh corps had been compelled to fall back through the town of
Gettysburg. They had taken a new position on a ridge east of the city. A
portion of our Brigade now filed off to the right, across Rock Creek,
thence north about half a mile; and then, having deployed about half of
our Regiment as skirmishers, advanced toward the west until we were
sharply engaged with the enemy's skirmishers. Only a little over two
hours had passed from the time when we received the order to march eight
miles distant, before we were in position on the extreme right of the
line of battle, checking the advance of the enemy in that direction.
There we remained until sunset, when we were relieved by the cavalry,
and recrossed Rock Creek to the west side.

As the remainder of our Corps had come up, they took position on the
right of the First Corps. We now rejoined them there, our own right
resting on Rock Creek. Immediately we began to throw up breastworks,
and by evening had built for ourselves quite respectable entrenchments.
It rained during most of the night; but in spite of that and the enemy,
we secured a good rest for the next day's work.

Early the next morning we were stirring, in anticipation of an attack;
but until noon there was nothing but skirmishing in our vicinity. Then
the storm broke loose on the extreme left of the line, near Little Round
Top, where Sickles's Corps was situated. The place was entirely hidden
from our sight, and from the sounds we could form no opinion as to how
things were going; but we were constantly receiving reports that Sickles
was either holding his own or driving the enemy before him. In the light
of subsequent events, these reports seem to have been purposely ,
in order to keep up our spirits. Occasional demonstrations along our
front kept us in constant expectation of being attacked, but nothing of
the sort occurred.

About six o'clock we were hurried out of our entrenchments at a
double-quick toward Little Round Top, where it was understood that
Sickles's Third Corps had been driven back with severe loss. But before
we arrived, the enemy had been repulsed, and the firing ceased. We were
now started back to our entrenchments. We found, however, upon our
arrival, that the enemy had in our absence taken possession of them. It
was exasperating to see them benefitting by our labors, but we were
somewhat consoled by the capture of a picket of twenty Confederates, who
in the darkness had wandered into our line as we approached. We were now
obliged to form a new line, connecting with our forces on the left as
before, but swinging back at an angle on the right to Rock Creek. We
thus presented to the enemy a semi-circular front, which they could not
penetrate without being subjected to a cross fire from both sides.

During the night we remained unmolested. At daylight the firing
commenced. The ground occupied by the enemy's skirmishers was a rocky
bit of woodland which furnished abundant cover for sharpshooters. For a
while they annoyed us, but by nine o'clock we had dislodged them, and
driven them back to the cover of their breastworks. On our left the
enemy were making desperate efforts to dislodge from their
entrenchments Greene's Brigade and the troops of the First Corps. Six
times they came up to the assault, and six times were repulsed, leaving
the ground over which they advanced literally covered with their dead.
At about eleven o'clock a portion of our Division followed up these
successes by charging the Confederates in our front and sweeping them
entirely out of our entrenchments. They retired only a short distance,
however, showing that they had not abandoned the contest.

For nearly two hours, complete quiet now succeeded the roar and din of
the battle. Not a cannon was fired. Only an occasional musket shot
disturbed the silence that prevailed from one end of the field to the
other. We all felt, however, that this was but a lull before the final
burst of the storm. The losses in our Regiment had thus far been light,
and our spirits ran high. We felt entire confidence that no force that
the Southerners could bring against us could by direct assault break our
line at any point.

About one o'clock, the first shot was fired in the tremendous artillery
duel that preceded the last desperate attempt to penetrate our center
at Cemetery Ridge. In five minutes three hundred guns were pouring into
one another, their deadly showers of shot and shell, and making fearful
havoc of every thing that was not sheltered. From our position in the
woods we could see nothing of what was going on in other parts of the
line; but the air above was filled with screaming shells, as they flew
back and forth on their deadly errand. In some instances, shells from
the Confederate batteries in front of the Second Corps would pass
entirely over our lines, and land near the enemy in our front; a great
many of them fell in the open space in our rear.

At one time during the progress of the cannonade, a battery was placed
in position on a hill across Rock Creek directly in front of our
Regiment, and began to drop shells unpleasantly close to us. But our
friends of Battery M, of the First New York Artillery, who had been with
us since the Brigade was organized, seemed to get their range at once,
and promptly silenced them. On a trip over the field, the next day, I
found the position where they had been stationed marked by a dozen dead
horses and two exploded caissons.

During the cannonading, I took occasion to go back into the woods a
short distance in order to get a view of what was going on. Everything
in sight gave evidence of the severity of the fire. All those who were
not actively engaged had sought the shelter of rocks and trees or the
inequalities of the ground. Here and there mounted officers and
orderlies were riding across the field, although at first sight it
seemed as though a bird could scarcely fly over it unharmed.

In the course of an hour the terrific artillery fire slackened. Then for
a few minutes it nearly ceased. In the interval of silence, Pickett's
Division of Confederates was marching to the charge. From my position I
could not see them coming on, but I knew that they were charging by the
old familiar Southern yell. Soon that was drowned in the roar of
musketry and artillery. For a time all was turmoil and confusion. At
length the hearty cheers of our comrades rang out, and we knew that the
Confederate tide of invasion had been safely rolled back.

While this assault was being made on the center, constant demonstrations
were being made on our front, and we momentarily expected an attack.
None came, however, although during all the rest of the day the enemy
presented an unshaken line. At night they silently withdrew, and on the
morning of the 4th our reconnoitering parties could find nothing of them
east of Seminary Ridge, save their dead and severely wounded, whom they
had left on the field.

I spent some time that day going over the ground occupied by the enemy
in front of the Twelfth Corps, and that over which Pickett had made his
now famous charge. From what I saw, I felt certain that the enemy's
losses were double our own. Where they had assaulted Geary's Division on
the evening of the 2nd and on the morning of the 3rd, the ground was so
strewn with their dead that it would have been possible to walk for rods
on dead bodies.

On the morning of the 5th the enemy was on the road back to Virginia. We
started the same day following hard after them, on parallel roads to the
east. When they reached Williamsport, however, they turned on us with a
bold front. It had been raining almost constantly for several weeks and
the Potomac was a raging torrent, which could not be forded. We were in
hopes that it might thus continue until our forces could be concentrated
to overwhelm them. On the morning of the 13th, however, when we were
ready to move forward to the attack, they were gone. The river had
fallen during the night, and they had made good their retreat.

For a time our Regiment led in the pursuit to the ford at Falling
Waters. Then we were filed out to the side of the road to make way for
General Kilpatrick's Cavalry Brigade. They had scarcely passed out of
sight through a patch of woods, when the roar of artillery and the sharp
crack of musketry announced that the enemy had been found. We moved
forward as rapidly as possible, but were not in time to take any part in
the conflict. It appeared that when the cavalry had emerged from the
woods they had found a brigade of Confederate infantry posted as a rear
guard, on a ridge overlooking the ford at Falling Waters. They had
immediately charged the enemy's breastworks and had captured over a
thousand prisoners. They had won, besides, as trophies of their
skirmish, two pieces of artillery and four or five colors inscribed with
all the battles of the Army of Northern Virginia. No further pursuit was
made. All of Lee's army, save only this rear guard, had escaped safely
to the south side of the Potomac.

At about this time I sent to my home in Wisconsin the following letter
concerning Lee's invasion:

    I have wished a good many times that the rebs could have had a month
    more among the people of Pennsylvania. What little sympathy I had
    for them is gone now. I cannot appreciate that disposition which
    will swindle a friend to compensate for what an enemy has stolen
    from you. In some cases the farmers would sell our men provisions at
    reasonable rates and even give them something, but the majority
    would ask from $.60 to $1.00 a loaf for bread, and $.25 a quart for
    milk, and all such things in proportion.

Our Corps now moved down the river to Harpers Ferry, and crossing into
Virginia, marched leisurely along the eastern side of the Blue Ridge.
We found the abandoned fields through which we passed overgrown with
blackberry bushes, and literally black with the ripened fruit. Every
night the men would go out from camp, and within easy range find as many
berries as they could eat. And they were the best medicine we ever used.
I knew of cases of diarrhea that had become almost chronic, soon cured
by this diet.




_On Draft Riot duty_


On July 31 we went into camp near Kelly's Ferry on the Rappahannock,
where for the next two weeks we did guard duty along the river and
rested from the fatigue of the long marches we had made since leaving
Stafford Court House. On August 15 came orders to move. The next morning
we marched down to Rappahannock Station in company with two other old
regiments of the Brigade, and boarded the cars for Alexandria, on our
way to New York. We were joined at the station by five other regiments
from the different brigades, all under command of General Ruger.

It seems that during the Confederate invasion of Pennsylvania, the New
York militia regiments had been called off for duty in Washington,
Baltimore, and other places. A riotous mob in New York City had taken
advantage of this circumstance to break out in defiance of the
authorities, and in resistance to the execution of the draft. They had
for several days held the city in a reign of terror, and it had been
necessary to stop all proceedings under the draft.

After a wait of several days, we embarked at Alexandria on the steamer
"Merrimac," and proceeded down the Potomac to the ocean, thence to New
York City. We landed at the foot of Canal Street, and quietly marched to
the City Hall Park, where we arrived at about ten o'clock on Saturday
night. Barracks had been provided for the enlisted men, but the
officers' tents had not arrived. This did not trouble us much, however,
as we had been without tents much of the time during the past two
months. Wrapped in our rubber blankets, we lay on the grass and slept,
as the landlady in _Rob Roy_ says, "like a good sword in its scabbard."
We awoke in the morning to find the sun well up in the heavens, and the
park surrounded by a crowd of curious people, surprised to see a number
of fairly well-dressed officers, sleeping on the ground like a lot of
vagrants.

The next day, tents were pitched and cots prepared, and we were enjoying
the delights of camp life amid all the surroundings of civilization. We
had our dress parades and guard mountings with all the pomp and show
that 300 men can make, to the delight of the great crowds who had come
to see the veterans of Antietam and Gettysburg. Soon after our arrival I
was detailed for duty in the provost marshal's office of the Fifth
District of New York, where the rioting had been most desperate. I had
charge of the guard stationed there to preserve order and see that those
who brought substitutes or recruits were promptly admitted.

There were no disturbances in the city while we were there, except such
as our men made for themselves, at the instigation of the police. We had
plenty of bold fellows in the Regiment, who wanted no better amusement
than to raid a saloon that had been the headquarters of the rioters.
They would get out of camp at night, and gather in such a saloon
pointed out to them by the police. Then they would get up a row on some
pretext, and pitch bartenders and <DW15>s out of doors, and smash
everything breakable about the place. Everyone in the Regiment could
find a way to enjoy himself, and a policeman to help him, and would have
been content to stay in the city much longer than we did.

On September 6 came orders to return to our camp. We marched down to the
Battery in the evening, and were conveyed in small boats to the steamer
"Mississippi." In the morning, when I awoke, we were rolling and
pitching in a manner that I had never before experienced in my limited
travels by water. A few of the officers had become seasick on our way up
to New York, and those of us who escaped had enjoyed the fun of laughing
at them. I did not propose therefore to give up now. So I dressed and
started for breakfast. One smell of the coffee, and I had business on
deck. But after gazing steadily over the side of the vessel for a time,
I felt better, and by noon had recovered my appetite.

We arrived at Alexandria on the 9th. On the 13th we reached our camp at
Kelly's Ferry, and found the Thirteenth New Jersey drawn up in line to
welcome us back to the old Brigade. We did not, however, remain long in
camp. Rumors began to float about, that Lee was sending a part of his
army to reenforce Bragg in northwestern Georgia. Within two days we were
again on the march to the Rapidan, behind which the enemy had retired.
We reached Raccoon Ford on the 16th, and our Regiment and the Second
Massachusetts were detailed to support pickets at the Ford.

We camped in the woods near the river, with sentinels at night down to
the bank, but during the day they were withdrawn to the most convenient
cover in the neighborhood. The enemy were camped just behind the hills
on the other side. Just about this time they appeared to be having a
religious revival. While visiting my sentinels after dark, I could hear
them preaching, praying, and singing, whole regiments apparently being
thus engaged. Under orders from Corps headquarters we refrained from
firing upon their pickets and they reciprocated the courtesy, which made
it much pleasanter for the sentinels on both sides of the river.




_With the Army of the Cumberland_


After two days of this picket duty we were relieved by a Connecticut
regiment and rejoined our Corps. We found that we were under orders to
march the next day to Brandy Station, on the railroad. We did not know
it at the time, but we were about to take our leave from the old Army of
the Potomac, with which we had been associated since its organization.
We had fought side by side in some of the hardest battles in the war;
and had we been consulted in the matter, we would doubtless have voted
to stay where we were, and help it to finish Lee's army. However, we
were not consulted, and the necessities of war now called us to the Army
of the Cumberland at Chattanooga.

On the night of the 24th, we bivouacked at Brandy Station, where the
paymaster worked all night paying off the troops, and where we saw the
Eleventh Corps being loaded for Alexandria. The next morning we marched
to Bealeton Station, where, after a wait of a day, we also loaded up
and started. The cars were ordinary freight trucks, with rough board
benches set crosswise, and the men were crowded in as thick as they
could be seated.

We pulled out of Washington over the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, the
trains containing forty or fifty cars each. As we approached the
mountains the size of the trains was reduced to about seven cars; but on
reaching the western <DW72>, the old number was restored. We crossed the
Ohio at Benwood, on a pontoon bridge. Another lot of cars was awaiting
us on the opposite side, and we went on through Columbus, Dayton,
Indianapolis, and Louisville. On this trip through Ohio and Indiana we
were everywhere reminded that we were among friends. Our train stopped
for a time at Columbus, Xenia, and Dayton, and it seemed as though the
citizens of those towns could not do enough for us. At every station
along the road great crowds of people were gathered, and cheered us as
we passed along.

We stopped briefly at Louisville, then went on again through Nashville,
and past the battle-field of Murfreesboro. We debarked from the cars at
Stevenson, Alabama, on Sunday morning, just a week from the time we had
started. We certainly were glad enough to be released after seven days
and nights of railroad travelling, cramped up so tightly that there was
scarce room either to sit up or lie down. Our arrival was none too soon.
The long line of railroad from Nashville southward, had been practically
unguarded, and the enemy's cavalry under General Wheeler succeeded soon
after our arrival in tearing it up in several places.

We now had several weeks of racing up and down the railroad line,
infantry after cavalry, and with the usual result. In the end, however,
the road was cleared, with the whole "Red Star" Division distributed
between Murfreesboro and Stevenson. Our Regiment was stationed at
Wartrace, where there was a junction with a short railroad running to
Shelbyville--the Nashville & Chattanooga Railroad. It was a curiosity.
The cross-ties were about five feet apart, and the rails were of wood,
surmounted by a running surface of light iron. Frequently the wooden
rails would spread, and then there would be a wreck; in fact, scarcely
a day passed on which there would not be an accident of some kind. Large
details of men from our Regiment were set to work to bring the road in
repair, and by Christmas it was in fairly good condition.

Shortly after we were established at Wartrace, I secured leave of
absence to go to Chattanooga in search of my brother, who had enlisted
in the Tenth Wisconsin. I had not heard of him since the battle of
Chickamauga. My route was by rail to Bridgeport on the Tennessee River,
then in a small captured Confederate steamer called "Paint Rock," up the
Tennessee to Chattanooga.

The "Paint Rock" was loaded to its utmost capacity with hardtack for the
starving Union men who held Chattanooga. The river route to that town
had only recently been opened up by General Hooker, with the Eleventh
Corps and the Second Division of our Corps. Previously it had been
necessary to wheel all supplies sixty miles over a mountain road, where
teams could scarcely haul the forage for their own trip. Even now the
boats could run only to within eight miles of the city.

The fifty-mile river trip brought me at the end of the day to the
landing at Kelly's Ferry. Then I had an eight-mile walk before me to the
camps, where I arrived late in the evening. I soon found the regiment or
the small remnant of it that I was looking for; but then I learned that
my brother was beyond doubt a prisoner in the hands of the enemy.

I spent a day in visiting about Chattanooga. The enemy occupied a line
from the Tennessee River, above town, to the point of Lookout Mountain
below. At no place were they near enough to throw shells into the city,
save from their heavy guns on Lookout Mountain. From these, shells came
over all day at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes and exploded high in
the air over either our camps or the city. So far as I could see,
however, they did little damage.

Shortly after my return to my Regiment, I was detailed to investigate
the killing of a <DW64> by a white man, not far from our post. The
evidence showed that it was a most unprovoked murder, and I so
reported. The man was thereupon arrested and sent to the provost marshal
at Tullahoma. I never learned what was finally done with him. The
curious thing about the affair was the frank astonishment of the man
that anyone should take notice of the killing of a mere "<DW65>."

Toward the end of November a large number of Confederate prisoners, who
had been captured in the battles of Lookout Mountain and Missionary
Ridge, were being sent northward over the railroad. We often had
conversation with them while the trains were stopping at our station.
Some were still defiant, but most of them were discouraged, and many
predicted that the Confederacy could not last six months longer. An
unusually large number of deserters of all ranks from colonel downward,
were also coming in, and they likewise professed to believe that the
Confederacy was tottering.




_The Third Veteranizes_


In December a general order was issued from the War Department,
providing for the reenlistment of veteran regiments. It provided for a
liberal bounty for all who reenlisted as veterans after two years'
service; but it offered what was a greater temptation than anything
else, the chance to go home for thirty days as a regiment, with the
opportunity to recruit up to the full standard. I explained to my
Company all the advantages of this arrangement. Their term of service
would not expire until the end of June. By that time the fighting would
probably be well over with. By reenlisting now they would secure the
bounty, the thirty days furlough, and the honorable record of veteran
soldiers, and it would be possible to preserve our organization from the
beginning to the end of the war.

Just about this time I was called away from camp to Tullahoma, to sit on
the court martial of Colonel E. L. Price of the One Hundred Forty-Fifth
New York Regiment, on charges of misbehaviour in battle. When the court
adjourned over the Christmas holidays and I returned to my Regiment, I
was informed by my First Sergeant that the men of my Company had been
talking over the matter of reenlisting, and that more than three-fourths
of them were ready to do so if I would stay with them. The contagion
spread. By Christmas all but two of the officers, and 240 out of 300
enlisted men present with the Regiment, had, in the language of the day,
"veteranized."

On Christmas this surviving remnant of the thousand men of the Third,
who had so gayly left the State two-and-a-half years before, started on
their return. It was a beautiful day, and for us one of perfect
happiness. We were going home with a record that none could surpass and
few commands could equal. We were the first regiment from Wisconsin, and
I believe the first in the army, to reenlist.

At Madison the arms were stored, and the men scattered to their homes to
enjoy their thirty-days' furlough. I was just in time to take part in a
New Year's dance, and go home in the morning on the coldest day ever
known in Wisconsin.

The month of January, 1864, which we spent in Wisconsin, was a season of
continuous festivities. The only drawback was the extreme cold, which to
us who had just come from the South, seemed more severe than it had ever
been before. Everyone seemed to be determined to give the returned
soldiers the best time of their lives. Some of the croakers thought it
too gay for people who were engaged in a death struggle for the life of
the Nation. Those of us, however, who had been at the front, were
disposed to be merry while we could, and leave the future to care for
itself. Recruiting was going on all the time. Our veterans proved the
best recruiting officers in the State. They brought in their brothers
and cousins, schoolmates and friends, so that when we were ready to
return once more to the south, we had added 300 men to our rolls, picked
from the very flower of Wisconsin's citizenry.

On February 2 the veterans of the Regiment assembled at Madison. On the
4th we were again on our way south, and reached Tullahoma the night of
the 9th. On the 12th we started out for Fayetteville, the seat of
Lincoln County, Tennessee, where we arrived at noon on the following
day. On our way we passed through Lynchburg, where there was pointed out
to us the house, or rather the ruins of the house, which was said to
have been the birthplace of Davy Crockett. At Mulberry, a little farther
on, I met a middle-aged citizen who said that he had never known what a
United States flag looked like until he had seen one carried by our
soldiers in this war.




_Reorganizing Lincoln County_


Lincoln County was one of the richest, as well as the most violent of
Secession counties in Tennessee. Its people boasted that it had cast
2,500 votes for Secession, and not one for the Union; the few Union men
in the county had not dared to go to the polls. A few months previous to
our coming a small detachment of Northern troops had been captured there
by guerrillas. The prisoners had been taken to the bank of the Elk River
and three of them deliberately murdered. A fourth had only escaped by
leaping into the river and swimming off in the confusion. When he had
reported the matter to headquarters, Colonel Ketcham of the One Hundred
Fiftieth New York had been sent to collect an assessment of $30,000 from
the citizens of the county for the benefit of the families of the
murdered soldiers.

Our mission in Lincoln County was to hunt down the guerrillas who
infested it, and to care for the refugees from Chattanooga and other
places in the rear of the army, who had lost their means of gaining a
livelihood. We supported the refugees by forced levies of corn and bacon
from the wealthy planters of the vicinity, while our mounted force soon
disposed of the guerrillas, capturing a number and frightening the rest
out of the county. We had a novel way of administering justice. For
instance, about two months after our arrival a number of these young
offenders, whose parents lived in the vicinity and were substantial
farmers, stole from a citizen mules valued at $400. The Colonel
immediately assessed the amount on the fathers, and with the money thus
collected paid for the mules. That was our policy all through--to make
the wealthy Confederates pay for the damage done by their lawless
colleagues. And this method had a good effect, for it soon put an end to
the thievery.

Shortly after we arrived, our mounted men captured a Confederate officer
named Boone, a grandson of the famous Daniel. On him was found a list of
all the guerrillas in the county. When I examined him, he told me that
he had been sent to muster these fellows into the Confederate army; but
his plans were spoiled. Instead he went to Johnson's Island, a prisoner,
and his little memorandum book remained in my possession.

Among the names on the list were those of two Miller boys, whose mother
and sister lived in town. The Captain of our mounted men, and several
other officers, boarded with the family, for the people in Fayetteville
were usually glad to take in Union officers as boarders, in order that
they might secure from our rations the otherwise unobtainable luxuries
of sugar and coffee. Several days after the capture of Boone's list, the
Captain brought in both of the young Millers as prisoners. They were
forwarded to Corps headquarters at Tullahoma. The elder, instead of
being sent North as a prisoner of war, was tried by court martial and
sentenced to be hanged in the public square of Fayetteville. That did
not suit some of us; so we found means to send Mrs. Miller to
Shelbyville, where she secured Judge Cooper, a well-known Unionist and
former member of Congress, to go to Washington, and lay the case before
President Lincoln. It was well known that no death sentence was ever
executed with the President's consent, if there was any reasonable
excuse for avoiding it. His usual magnanimity did not fail in this case,
and the boy was sent North as an ordinary prisoner of war.

When the President's amnesty proclamation was issued, we were given the
duty of reorganizing Lincoln County under its provisions. I was
appointed provost marshal, and in that position administered oaths of
allegiance to several thousand repentant and unrepentant Secessionists.
When the election was held, returns were made to me, and by me
tabulated, and sent to the military governor at Nashville. Commissions
were then issued by him to the officials who had been elected, so that
when we left, the county was ready to resume civil government.

In administering the oath of allegiance, the demand for blanks was so
great that the ordinary sources could not furnish a sufficient supply.
It was necessary, therefore, for me to open a printing office. So I took
possession of an old printing establishment, and set several men to
work. The press was broken down and the type badly "pi'd"; but we soon
had the machinery repaired, and by combining the stock of three printing
offices, secured sufficient type to run our establishment with success.

In addition to these other duties, I had to listen to everyone in the
county who sought redress for a grievance of any kind. Some had had
horses taken by our army, or by bushwhackers; some had been robbed of
money or other valuables; some wanted permits to carry firearms, which
were of course never granted; and others needed assistance from the
Government to keep from starving. One man came with a case parallel to
that of the woman who wanted a "pass to raise geese." He wanted a "pass
to raise a crup." I told him to go on and raise his crop, or do whatever
he pleased, so long as he remained loyal to the Government. He said his
neighbors had told him he could not raise a crop without a permit from
the Federals, and that every man who took the oath of allegiance was
branded in the forehead with the letters "U. S."

One day a woman came to me, who said she had heard that we paid $10,000
to the widows of men killed by guerrillas. I explained to her that we
had done that only for the widows of three Union soldiers. I told her,
however, that if she could give me any information about where the
guerrillas could be found, we would capture and punish them. She said
she did not know, but that she had heard some shots in the woods. She
had not seen her man since, and she was sure they had killed him. After
parleying awhile she started out of the door. But before she went out,
she turned and called back to me, "That ai'nt the wust of 't; they stole
my old mare, too!"

When we first arrived at Fayetteville not a person was to be seen on the
streets, although before the war it had been a place of 2,000
inhabitants. There was not a vestige of any kind of business left in the
town. Even the stores and taverns were vacant. The people soon made
their appearance, however, when they found that we had come to stay, and
before very long we had established the most friendly relations with
them. By the time we were ready to leave, almost every family in town
had its friends among the soldiers. They were very sociable, and always
seemed glad to have the Federal officers call on them. The young ladies
would sing and play the piano beautifully, and make things quite
homelike for us after the routine of the day's work. Twenty years later,
while passing through Fayetteville on my way to Atlanta, I received
courtesies from a citizen who only knew me by reputation as one of the
officers of the Third Wisconsin.

It was curious to see what a difference slavery had made in the social
life of these people. Everywhere work was considered disgraceful for
a white man, and as only the occupation of the "<DW65>." In order
to succeed socially, it was necessary to own slaves. The idea of
hiring labor, or of being rich without <DW64>s, was apparently
incomprehensible. And in fact it was true that all of the people who had
obtained any sort of success, intellectually or otherwise, had owned
slaves.

Most of the men who resided in the vicinity had served in the
Confederate army. Some had been discharged on account of wounds or
sickness, while others, and probably most of them, had deserted when
they became sure that the fight was hopeless.

My office was a common resort for these people after they had taken the
oath of amnesty. They would sit around by the hour, and spin their yarns
about the Confederate service. The recent deserters had to be sent to
headquarters at Tullahoma for examination; and as we could communicate
only with a strong escort, I would sometimes have half a dozen of them
paroled to report to me daily until I could arrange to send on a party.

In all my dealings with these people, I found scarcely any who really
desired the success of the Union cause. There were plenty of them,
probably the majority, who thought the Confederacy a failure, and wished
to get back into the Union on the best possible terms; but they still
clung to their old ideas. However, that did not interfere with our
friendship and the good time that we had while we were there. And when
the day at length came when we were obliged to leave, I think that they
really were, as they professed to be, sorry at our going. And well they
might be, for the regiment of Tennessee Union Cavalry, that occupied the
town after we left, proceeded at once to kill several of the most
prominent men who had not taken the amnesty oath, and at least one who
had.

On the morning of April 28, 1864, we said farewell to our Fayetteville
friends and started out on the campaign which a year later was to end at
Raleigh, North Carolina, with the surrender of Johnston's army and the
end of the war. With us was a company of Tennessee Union Cavalry,
commanded by Captain Brixey, which had been sent to Lincoln County to
hunt bushwhackers. On leaving Fayetteville they had taken a horse
belonging to Judge Chilcote, a prominent citizen, who had been of much
assistance to me in the provost marshal's office in restoring civil
government, and who had at the election been chosen county clerk. The
Judge followed us, and asked to have his horse restored. Colonel Hawley
of our Regiment at once compelled Captain Brixey to give it up. He did
so with apparent reluctance, and then secretly sent a number of his men
over a by-road to intercept the Judge on his return and kill him. This
cowardly deed accomplished, the men rejoined their command. Brixey then
pushed on ahead to Tullahoma, and on the next day left for the
mountains of East Tennessee. The murder was reported to us that night.
The Colonel sent back Captain Gardner with his mounted men to
investigate, but the murderers had fled as soon as their deed became
known, and nothing more could be done. After this outrage, Brixey never
dared to rejoin our army. Some time later he was killed by Confederates
in northwestern Georgia.

During our stay at Fayetteville our Corps and the old Eleventh of the
Army of the Potomac were consolidated, and became known as the Twentieth
Corps of the Army of the Cumberland. The command was given to General
Hooker. Our portion of the army would very much have preferred General
H. W. Slocum, who was sent to Vicksburg. In the reorganization we became
the Second Brigade of the First Division, with General Thomas H. Ruger
commanding the Brigade and General A. S. Williams commanding the
Division. At the suggestion of the officers of the Eleventh Corps, our
old badge, the five-pointed star, was retained as the badge of the new
corps.




_Opening of the Atlanta Campaign_


Our Regiment reached Tullahoma on April 30, to find that the rest of our
Brigade had already gone to the front. We started out on the next day to
join them, and on May 4 crossed the Tennessee River at Bridgeport. On
the 7th we passed over the battle-field of Chickamauga, where signs of
the conflict were still everywhere in evidence. On the night of the 8th
we crossed the mountains by way of Nickajack Pass, and joined our
Brigade at daylight the next morning. This passage over the mountains
was interesting. The night was extremely dark and perfectly quiet. The
men in charge of the wagon train had placed lighted candles on the rocks
along the road, at intervals of about a hundred feet, in order to guide
themselves and those who came after. These were still flickering when we
came along.

Our march to Atlanta was now well under way. The enemy continually fell
back, and in most cases without offering serious resistance. The three
armies of General Sherman, marching in parallel lines, seemed to be able
to carry everything before them. On the 10th we again crossed the
mountains at Snake Creek Gap, going into camp on the other side until
the 13th. On the night of the 10th we were visited by a tremendous wind
and rain storm, which blew down our tents, and raised the water in the
creek so high that we had to move our camp or be drowned. At about this
time, also, an order was read to the troops announcing the great success
of the Army of the Potomac in the opening battles of the final campaign
against Richmond.

On the 14th we were moved to the extreme left to support General Howard,
who was there engaged with the enemy. We arrived at about sundown, just
as the Confederates were driving in a brigade of the Fourth Corps and
threatening to capture a battery of artillery. As we moved forward in
line of battle, ready to receive the advancing enemy, General Williams
called out to the fleeing soldiers of the Fourth Corps to get back out
of the way, for he had a division there from the Army of the Potomac
that would protect them. All of which goes to show that even
major-generals are human, and when they get a chance like to exult over
their rivals. We checked the advance of the enemy without much trouble.

At about noon on the 15th, General Butterfield, with our Third Division,
moved forward to attack an earthwork and a four-gun battery, which the
enemy held in his front. We moved forward on the left to support him;
and encountering little opposition at first, advanced somewhat farther
than the Third Division. We took position in the edge of a woods, where
we made use of a rail fence and some logs to build a breastwork in
anticipation of an attack, which the skirmish firing in front warned us
was coming. We soon had sight of the advancing enemy. A few volleys from
us, however, and they broke and ran. In a short time they again came up,
with a new line. We disposed of that almost as quickly as the first. A
third time they repeated the attempt, and again we beat them back.

Now came the order to pursue. My Company, and the companies on my right,
moved forward about two hundred yards in the woods. Suddenly we found
that we were on the flank of a Brigade that was still stubbornly
fighting with troops of the Twenty-Third Corps and the left companies
of our Regiment. They were in a peach orchard, the nearest of them not
fifty yards away. I hastily wheeled my Company, and Company H to the
left, and opened fire. At such short range, and in such a crowd, every
shot must have counted. The Confederates did not wait for much, but
skedaddled as fast as their legs could carry them.

Just as the last of them were disappearing from sight, I saw a man in
Confederate uniform come running toward my Company, hatless, but with
gun in hand. I supposed that he was coming in to give himself up. He
came within twenty yards of us, then apparently noticed for the first
time that we were Yankees. He immediately started to run back. I called
to him to surrender, but it only increased his speed. Finding that he
did not stop, two of my men fired at him, and both hit him. He fell dead
almost instantly upon the field. I went forward then and examined him.
He was a mere boy, not over twenty years of age. In his pocket we found
his order, not two weeks old, from the conscript officer of his
district, notifying him to join the army. I have seen fields of battle
in front of our Regiment, covered over with the dead, without
experiencing the pang of regret that I felt for this poor lad who,
scarcely out from home, and too frightened and confused to know what to
do, thus sadly met his fate.

The loss of our Regiment in this fight was one killed and thirty-one
wounded. Many of the wounded subsequently died, among them Reverend John
M. Springer, the Chaplain of the Regiment. When drafted in 1863, he had
been a Methodist minister in Monroe, Wisconsin. Believing this to be a
call of duty he had refused to allow his church to secure a substitute,
and had reported at Madison for service. When our Regiment was about to
leave Wisconsin for the front, after the veteran furlough, we officers
had been introduced to him in the Executive Chamber at the Capitol,
where we had assembled on the invitation of the Governor. When sent for,
Springer had been found doing sentinel duty before the gate of Camp
Randall. We had elected him Chaplain, and he had joined us at
Fayetteville as soon as he could secure his discharge as a private. On
the morning of the battle, when the prospects seemed good for a lively
fight, he had come to me and asked for a musket and some ammunition, for
he did not wish to be lurking in the rear while we were in danger at the
front. At my suggestion, he had previously posted himself in the
tactics, so I now told him to take the place of a Lieutenant in my
Company. He was the first man hit, and died in the hospital a few days
later.

By a strange coincidence, our picket found on the field in our front the
dead body of the Chaplain of the Georgia Regiment with which we had been
engaged. We were told by some of the wounded prisoners that he had been
shot in coming up to recover the body of his son, a captain in the
Regiment, who had been killed early in the fight.

In this battle, for the first time in my experience, Confederate
soldiers who might have escaped came in and gave themselves up as
prisoners. I think as many as forty did this. They were all thoroughly
discouraged, and the same feeling seems to have run through their whole
army, for they were more quickly and easily beaten than I had ever seen
them before.

It was understood on our part that in order to give the Army of the
Tennessee time to get below Resaca and cut off their retreat, we were
not to push the attack against the enemy. They were too quick for us,
however; the next morning they had abandoned Resaca, leaving behind them
six heavy guns and large quantities of provisions and ammunition.

On the 19th we came up to them again at Cassville, where we drove them
into their entrenched lines and occupied the town. We expected a fight
in the morning, but once more they were gone, this time across the
Etowah River. After a rest of four days at Cassville, we again went
forward, crossing the Etowah on a pontoon bridge without resistance.

On the 25th we had nearly reached Dallas when we were turned back to
assist General Geary, who had encountered a division of Hood's Corps,
entrenched on the Marietta road to our left, at a place called New Hope
Church. On our arrival we found that Geary's Division had already pushed
back the enemy's skirmishers until the latter were thought to be in
their main line of works, from which position we were ordered to drive
them. The country was heavily timbered, and underbrush so obscured the
view that it was impossible to see in any direction more than a few
rods. When we came within sight of the enemy we found that a six-gun
battery was posted a little in front of their line of infantry. The
latter awaited us behind a breastwork, evidently hastily constructed of
logs and earth, nevertheless affording fairly good shelter. As soon as
we came within range, the battery opened on us with round shot and
shell; then, as we came nearer, with grape and canister. But we pushed
steadily on until we were less than sixty yards from them, when we
halted; for we had lost so many men, and had become so disorganized in
the march through the timber and brush that the impetus of our charge
was gone. The regiments on both sides of us had already done the same.
We sheltered ourselves as well as we could, behind trees and fallen
timber, and opened fire on their battery, receiving a hot fire in return
from their infantry. We succeeded, however, in driving off the
Confederate gunners, and prevented the cannon from being worked for the
remainder of the day.




_Wounded and in Hospital_


When we had first come within range of the grape-shot, my scabbard had
been struck and cut in two at a point just below where I grasped it with
my left hand. Later, when my men had sheltered themselves and had
commenced firing, I was again struck. I was at the time resting on one
knee in a position where I could watch the battery, and direct our fire
upon it, for I was determined that the enemy should not have an
opportunity to take it away so long as we had a chance to capture it. My
attention had just been called to something on the left, when a bullet
struck the front of my cap, cutting the figure "3" out of the bugle, and
glancing from the bone, cut a gash across my forehead. For a time I lost
all interest in that battle. When I regained my feet, Colonel Hawley,
who was standing near, told me to get back to the hospital. I succeeded
in finding my way to a small ravine that we had crossed, thinking as I
got back of the line, that there were a thousand bullets flying, to
every one nearer the front. At the small brook in the ravine, I tried to
wash off the blood which was blinding me, but had such poor success that
I concluded to follow the Colonel's advice and have the wound dressed. I
considered it not much of a clip, and thought that in three days at the
most I would be back with my company. It was about two months before I
rejoined, and a good many years before I entirely recovered.

On my way back to the hospital, I met in succession General Williams who
commanded the Division, General Hooker who commanded the Corps, General
Thomas who commanded the Army of the Cumberland, and General Sherman who
commanded the Department. Each stopped and asked if I was much
hurt--when I told that it was only a scratch, they were eager for
information as to the situation at the front. I explained that we had
driven the artillerymen from their guns, but that the infantry in their
breastworks had been too much for us. Then each kindly told me to go to
the hospital.

At the hospital I found Dr. Conley, our Regimental Surgeon, who dressed
my wound and gave me a blanket to lie down on. I got away to one side
and tried to sleep, but the Doctor disturbed me so often to look at my
wound that this was impossible. I finally lost all patience with him and
ordered him to let me alone; but he afterwards explained that he feared
I would go to sleep and wake up in the next world.

This fight is known in the North as the Battle of Dallas, or the Battle
of Pumpkinvine Creek, and in the South as the Battle of New Hope Church.
In the engagement, our Regiment lost eighteen men killed and ninety-two
wounded. This loss was quite unevenly distributed among the companies.
Mine had sixteen men severely wounded, two of whom subsequently died.
Company A, on my left, had six men killed and twenty-one wounded.
Captain Hunter of Company F was wounded by a canister shot, in one of
his legs near the knee-joint, and died shortly after. Captain Ruger of
the Brigade staff also received a severe wound in the knee, which
incapacitated him for further service during the war.

On the afternoon of the day following the battle, I thought I was
strong enough to go back to my Regiment. So I started out, against the
protests of the surgeons; but after going about a quarter of a mile, my
legs gave out, and I was obliged to return and obey directions. I
remained at the field hospital for about three and a half days. During
most of that time the surgeons were busy at the amputating table. On the
morning of the 29th all of the slightly wounded were sent off with the
wagon train. The more seriously wounded were sent off late in the
afternoon in the ambulances. Captains Hunter, Ruger, and I went in the
same ambulance, I was on the seat with the driver.

At Kingston, where we arrived on the 30th, a long train of freight cars
for the slightly wounded, and hospitals cars for the severely wounded
was waiting, ready to start for Chattanooga. Captain Hunter was,
however, too ill to go, and I would not leave him, so we waited over
together until June 2. The ride to Chattanooga was a very severe one for
poor Hunter, and he appeared to be much the worse for it. He recovered
temporarily under the careful treatment at Chattanooga, of Doctor
Persons of the First Wisconsin Cavalry, but on June 8 began to sink
rapidly, and died on the afternoon of the following day.

My wound was not dangerous, yet it was serious enough to entitle me to a
leave of absence. I took advantage of it to return for a pleasant week
to my Wisconsin home; then rejoined my Regiment near the Chattahoochee
River on July 17. During my absence it had followed the fortunes of the
Twentieth Corps, having had no hard fighting and but few casualties on
the picket line. The term of service of the men who had not reenlisted
had expired on June 29, and they had been mustered out. The officers in
the various regiments, however, who wished to be mustered out, found
themselves conscripted for a longer term. Their applications had been
approved until they had reached General Thomas; but he had forwarded
them to Washington with recommendations for dishonorable discharge.
Discovering this danger, the officers had withdrawn their applications.
A number in the Twenty-Ninth Pennsylvania had, however, been
dishonorably discharged under such circumstances, and at the time this
seemed to us an injustice.




_The Siege of Atlanta_


On the day that I rejoined the Regiment the army moved forward across
the Chattahoochee River. During the next three days a farther advance
was made across Peach Tree Creek, and we were now but a few miles from
the fortifications of Atlanta. On the afternoon of the 20th, General
Hood, the new Confederate commander who had succeeded Johnston, came out
of his entrenchments and made a furious attack on our lines. The brunt
of it fell on our Corps, which was somewhat in advance of the others.
Our Regiment being in the second line was not engaged, for the first
line repulsed the enemy along the entire front. The fighting was very
severe, the Confederates coming up to the attack again and again. The
loss in our Corps was about 2,000 killed and wounded; that of the enemy
must have been double that number.

On the night of the 21st I went on picket duty with instructions to
advance my picket line if possible, for the enemy's pickets were so
close that their stray bullets were causing much annoyance in our camp.
We were not very successful during the night; but in the morning, when
the whole Brigade picket line under Major Smith of the One Hundred
Fiftieth New York, moved forward, the enemy had disappeared. As was now
becoming quite usual, a number of their men remained behind to be taken
prisoners.

Major Smith's orders were to advance until he found the enemy. So we
slowly pushed forward through their strong but abandoned works, and
encountered no serious opposition until within about a mile of their
fortifications immediately surrounding the city. We met their picket
line on a hill, and drove it back a half mile, but they brought out
against us such a strong force that we in turn were obliged to fall
back, taking our stand on the hills where we had first met their
pickets. From this position they did not seriously attempt to dislodge
us.

From our vantage we could see all of their manoeuvers. Apparently there
were not more than 2,000 or 3,000 troops to prevent our entry into the
city. I have always believed that if there had been someone high enough
in command to have used the troops where I was that day, Atlanta could
have been captured much more easily than it was six weeks later. At
about six o'clock our Corps came up, and our picket line, once more
moving forward, drove the Confederate skirmishers to within two hundred
yards of their forts.

The next day a battery of twenty-pound Parrott guns was planted on the
hill and commenced throwing shells into the city over our heads. The
enemy replied with spirit, and we received many of their compliments
that were intended for the battery. Our men protected themselves by
throwing up an earthwork in front of the camp, with a ditch behind it
wide enough and deep enough to shelter all in case of necessity. The
officers all had heavy earth barricades built in front of their tents,
and these furnished fairly good protection.

I remember to have been one night in the Colonel's tent when the shells
were flying pretty lively. We were just discussing whether his
embankment would stop a shell, when one came along and buried itself in
the ground a little in front without exploding. The Colonel went out and
found that it had gone two feet into the ground. One of the other
officers present expressed the opinion that it would have gone through
the breastwork if it had struck properly. The words were scarcely out of
his mouth when another shell struck the work, penetrating about
two-thirds of the way, and exploding without damage.

At another time we were not so fortunate. A shell struck the barricade
of Captain Orton of Company K, passed through, and exploded in the tent,
mortally wounding him and seriously wounding Lieutenants Barager,
Blanchard, and Schweers, who were with him. Lieutenant Barager served
until the end of the war; but a few years after its close, he became, as
a consequence of that shock, a physical and mental wreck.

The enemy's sharpshooters were close enough to us to keep dropping their
bullets incessantly into our camp. It was at first rather annoying to
have them come pattering around whenever anyone moved, but in time we
became so accustomed to the missiles, that we went about our ordinary
business as though there were no Confederates within forty miles. On one
occasion the Thirteenth New Jersey went out in front of the line and
captured thirty-five of the enemy's pickets, and burned the houses where
the marksmen had been stationed.

On July 28 General Hooker was at his own request relieved of the command
of our Corps. He had taken offence at being jumped by General Howard for
the command of the Army of the Tennessee, after the death of General
McPherson in the battle of July 22. I do not believe that the highest
officers generally sympathized with Hooker, but the Corps as a whole
felt that his loss was a serious blow. He had large personal influence
on his troops. During an active campaign, virtually every soldier in his
Corps saw him almost daily. If there was a picket line to be
established, he personally examined it; if an assault was made on the
enemy, he was with the foremost, always brave to the extreme of
recklessness. He was, moreover, careful of the welfare of his men. He
made his commissaries attend strictly to business, and his Corps would
often be furnished with the delicacies of army rations when others were
short or had nothing but hardtack and salt pork. It was a common remark
all through the army that Joe Hooker fed his men the best, and fought
them the best, of any of the corps commanders. Of course his men
worshipped him and under him were invincible; for the same reason the
enemy dreaded him worse than anything else mortal.

The newspapers of the day said that the appointment of General Howard
was the work of President Lincoln. But it was reported in the Corps,
that General Sherman had been the prime mover. It was freely whispered
among us that Sherman, with all his great talents and acknowledged
ability, was affected with the same weakness that was said to have
troubled Napoleon--the not being able to look with complacency on the
great personal popularity of a subordinate. Sherman was reported to have
allowed this feeling to break forth into positive insult of General
Hooker and his Corps in the presence of subordinates. For instance, on
the night after the battle of Peach Tree Creek, before any returns of
casualties had been made, Hooker told Sherman that he had lost that day
nearly 2,000 men. "Oh pshaw!" answered Sherman, "that's nothing; they'll
all be back in the morning." Later it was found that 1,700 members of
the Corps had been killed or wounded, and that they had successfully
repulsed the whole Confederate army with a reported loss to the latter
of 6,000.

Before leaving, General Hooker invited all the colonels in the Corps to
call on him, and told them frankly his reasons for resigning. He said
that during the whole campaign he had been subjected to unbearable
insults and indignities, and his Corps and its performances had been
underrated and disparaged. And now, to have promoted over him a junior
officer from this Department, whose rank and service were far below his,
was the last straw; his reputation as a soldier and his honor as a man
would not, he said, admit of his remaining.

The enemy's picket line had been temporarily quieted by the advance of
the Thirteenth New Jersey, but was now again annoying us. These pickets
were on a ridge about two hundred yards in front of their main line of
works, and not more than four hundred yards from our camp. They had
lines of pits dug all along their position and could at any time
communicate with their main line. Our pickets were also located in pits,
but could only be relieved at night. It was determined to reverse this
order of things. So at daylight on July 30, at a preconcerted signal,
our whole Brigade picket line, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Morse
of the Second Massachusetts, jumped out of their pits, crossed the
intervening space at a run, and captured the enemy's entire line,
numbering seven officers and ninety-seven men.

A regiment was immediately sent out to reenforce our men, and
breastworks were hastily thrown up. From their forts and main
breastworks, the enemy poured into us a shower of shot and shell; but
our men held their position all day, many of them firing as much as two
hundred rounds of ammunition. At night the position was made impregnable
against anything save a movement in large force; and in the morning the
enemy were compelled to withdraw their artillery and close the
embrasures of their forts.

For some weeks there was not much change in the situation, so far as we
were concerned. There was much hard work for the men in the trenches,
and they were all getting anxious for the capture of Atlanta. I believe
nine-tenths of them would rather have fought the matter out in an open
battle than to have kept on scraping and shoveling to dig them out. It
seemed to us at the time that between our army and that of the
Confederates, there had been enough dirt dug, from Louisville to
Atlanta, to have built all the railroads in the United States.

For a time in our advanced position, firing on the picket line was
constant, and there were many casualties. In a week or two, however, a
sort of truce was established, and firing ceased. Just before I had
rejoined my Regiment on the Chattahoochee, our pickets had been quite
friendly with the pickets of the enemy. They had traded coffee for
tobacco, and had offered to take letters and send them to Union
prisoners in their hands. I should at this time have liked to send a
letter to my brother. But now they would not go as far as that; nothing
would induce them to meet us between the picket lines for trading; to
all our advances they replied that their orders forbade them to do so.

On August 25 important changes were made in the disposition of our
troops. Our Corps was withdrawn from before Atlanta and moved back to
the Chattahoochee River. The rest of the army was moved around to the
south of Atlanta, temporarily abandoning its communications; this was in
order, by threatening his flank, to compel Hood to come out of his works
and fight us in the open.

Throughout that day our heavy guns poured a constant stream of shot and
shell into the city. As soon as darkness had settled down on the camps,
we silently folded our tents and moved back. I had been on picket duty
that night; it was still and clear, and the slightest sound could be
heard at a great distance. As I passed along the picket line, from man
to man, and gave them the word to follow instructions--which were for
each man, as I passed him, to leave his post and go back silently to the
rear--I could hear the Confederates changing their relief just a little
in my front. In one case I heard the old sentinel tell the new one to
"keep a sharp watch on those Yanks over there," for they were up to
something and he believed they were going to attack.

At the railroad bridge over the Chattahoochee, where we took position,
earthworks had already been built. We strengthened them and built new
ones, so that by the night of the 26th we were in condition to fight the
whole of Hood's army. Hood was, however, too busy south of Atlanta,
where Sherman now was, to trouble us; and we had several days of
complete quiet. It was a great relief, after our experiences in the
trenches, to be able to walk around without hearing the bullets whistle
about our ears. Not the least of our enjoyment was, to have a good river
close at hand to bathe in.

During our stay here, General Slocum arrived and took command of the
Corps. When he made his first tour around the camp, he was given a royal
reception by his old command. They had all been anxious to have as their
leader someone who had been identified with them in the Army of the
Potomac. With that army they had won their laurels, and they wished
still to be known as a part of it.

Slocum was a very different type of man from Hooker. The latter was
brilliant and dashing, and in the excitement of battle his ardor and
personal courage carried him where the fire was hottest. Slocum, on the
contrary, reminded one of the descriptions of Marlborough. Cool and
unimpassioned he directed a battle as he would a review. Without
particularly avoiding danger, he would not rush recklessly into it.
Hooker was an inveterate boaster. Slocum usually said nothing. I think
most men would have considered Hooker the better leader, and Slocum the
better man.

Late on the night of September 1, while I was on picket duty, I heard in
the direction of Atlanta what I at first thought was artillery. The
rumbling kept increasing in intensity until it seemed like the heaviest
firing I had ever heard. Finally, a number of terrific explosions lit up
the air. At six miles distance they seemed like bright flashes of
lightning. I knew then that the enemy were blowing up their powder
magazines. I supposed, however, that Sherman was fighting his way into
Atlanta from the south.

At daylight a reconnoitering party was sent out toward the city. They
found it evacuated, except for a small rear guard of cavalry which was
soon driven out. The remainder of the Corps moved up in the afternoon,
our Regiment reaching the city at about dark. Sherman's flanking
movement had been completely successful. He had met Hood on the Macon
Railroad, near Jonesboro, and had beaten him terribly. The Confederate
commander had been obliged to evacuate Atlanta at once, blowing up
eighty cars of ammunition which had been cut off by the capture of the
railroad at Jonesboro. He had been compelled to destroy, also, the large
rolling mill of the city, which was said to have been the only mill in
the South where plating for gunboats could be manufactured.

We found more Union sentiment in Atlanta than anywhere else in the
South. As our Brigade entered the city, at about nine o'clock at night,
many of the women brought out buckets of water for us to drink. They
were very bitter against Hood's army, which they said had robbed them
of everything that could be carried off, with the excuse that the
Yankees would steal it anyway. They were agreeably disappointed to find
that the Yankees did not rob them of a thing.

Immense quantities of tobacco were abandoned by the Secessionist
citizens who left town. This fact ruined the sutlers' trade in that
article. On the day before Atlanta fell, tobacco sold in our camps at a
dollar a plug, and fifteen cents for cigars. On the day after, plug
tobacco passed about for five cents, and cigars were twenty-five cents a
hundred. Our men found tobacco in every conceivable place. One lot of
twenty boxes was dug out from under a big ash-heap. It was, however, the
only plunder obtained, for the most stringent orders were issued against
pillaging occupied houses.

The effects of the Union bombardment could everywhere be seen in the
city. Almost every house had the marks on it of shot and shell. One man
showed me a dozen shells that had struck in his garden. The families
remaining in the city had all built in their yards bombproofs, to which
they had fled for safety whenever the shelling was in progress.

On September 6 Sherman's army came back from Jonesboro, and went into
camp in the vicinity of town. For a time we enjoyed the luxury of
complete rest, after our four months of continuous campaigning. On
September 23 our Regiment received from Wisconsin 200 fresh recruits,
who had just been secured under the draft. Every one was a substitute,
and a splendid lot of men they were physically, representing almost
every nation in Europe--English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Germans, French,
Norwegians, and I don't know how many others. Some of them could not
speak a word of English. Over a dozen were full-blooded Chippewa
Indians, who until they put on the uniforms of the United States Army,
had never worn the clothing of civilized people. They were all excellent
raw material, and in the course of time made good soldiers. I recall
only two of the entire 200 who deserted.

About the first of October, Hood set out on his trip to the North, in
the attempt to starve us out of Atlanta. On October 3 Sherman started
after him with all of the army except our Corps, which was left to hold
the town. Our camps were now changed around so as to defend the city on
a shorter line. Our Brigade was moved from the south to the northwest
side, and set to work to build new breastworks, or rather to rebuild the
old ones of the Confederates.

The enemy succeeded in getting upon our railroad to the North, and for
about twenty days we were completely cut off without news or provisions.
However, they had left us the whole of the country southward to forage
in; and this, together with the rice we had captured in the city, and
the "beef dried on the hoof," as the men called the cattle that were
driven in, kept us a long way from starving. Every week our forage
trains would run out into the country to the south, and gather in from
500 to 700 wagon-loads of corn, besides living, while they were out, on
the best that the land afforded. Moreover, we had our provisions all to
ourselves; for on September 10 Sherman had ordered all the citizens of
the town to leave either to the North or to the South.

On October 11 our Regiment went out for the first time on a foraging
expedition. There were 2,500 men in the detachment, and a train of about
500 wagons. About fifteen miles south of Atlanta we found plenty of corn
for the animals; and for the men, abundance of sweet potatoes and other
dainties not laid down in the army menu. In two days we had our wagons
laden with all that could be hauled away. About a fortnight later we
went out again and brought in over 800 wagons of corn.

The forage which we thus gathered was the salvation of our animals and
beef cattle. The mules had been on half rations of grain all summer,
quite without hay, and the whole country in the vicinity of Atlanta had
been grazed over until it was as bare as a city street. The beeves that
had been driven down from Louisville, had for weeks nothing to eat save
the leaves and sprouts on the bushes. It was a standing joke among the
men that the commissary always killed for beef those animals that could
not survive until the next day.




_The March to the Sea_


On October 29 came the first through trains from Chattanooga, after the
movement of Hood to the North. On the same day came orders to reduce
baggage and prepare for marching. Soon, rumors were spreading about the
camp that we were to start on a fifty days' campaign, without
communications. On November 4 we were ready to move. I wrote numerous
letters of good-bye to friends at home, telling them that they would
hear from me next at Charleston or Savannah. I hoped that it would be
Charleston, for I wanted the people of South Carolina who started the
war to feel its effects and to reap their share of the horrors.

On November 5 we started out and marched three miles from town. The next
day, however, we returned in order to wait until the Army of the
Tennessee might be paid off. This gave us a chance to vote in the
Presidential election, which we had come very near missing. Our Regiment
gave Lincoln 304 votes and McClellan 21. For another full week we
remained in Atlanta, our Regiment being occupied the entire time in
tearing up railroad tracks and destroying everything of value in the
city. By the time we were ready to leave, Atlanta was worth little more
to the Confederates than any other piece of ground of similar size. On
November 15 we started out in earnest on the now famous "March to the
Sea." Our last view of Atlanta, the prize for which we had so long
struggled, was a column of dense smoke from its burning buildings; we
had destroyed everything in town except the churches and private
residences.

Our expedition numbered about 50,000 men, under the command of Sherman.
Thomas's army remained behind to look after Hood. We took with us only
about twenty days' rations, for the country through which we passed was
expected to furnish the remainder of our needs. The army proceeded in
two columns--the right wing under Howard making for Macon; the left
under Slocum making for Augusta. Each corps, also, took a different
route in order to be able to subsist more easily on the country.

Our Corps proceeded along the Augusta railroad, which we destroyed as
we went along by burning the ties and twisting the heated rails. Parts
of the country were poor and furnished little forage. Other portions,
however, compensated by giving us an abundance of sweet potatoes and
pork, with occasional lots of corn meal, flour, and sorghum, and, for
the first arrivals on the plantation, chickens and turkeys. On our route
we found plenty of good horses and mules, and all the forage that we
could carry off. Occasionally, also the enterprising forager would
capture some apple-jack or corn whiskey.

At Madison we turned and took the road to Milledgeville, the capital of
Georgia. Geary's Division, however, followed up the railroad to the
Oconee River, and destroyed the Oconee bridge. We entered Milledgeville
on the 22nd without opposition, and camped in the state-house yard.
During our stay, our Regiment and the One Hundred Seventh New York
guarded the city. I took up my quarters with an acquaintance of one of
my Wisconsin friends, and saw to it that his house and family were not
molested. He had several hundred bales of cotton stored near town,
which Sherman had consented to have bonded; but some zealous officer or
officious "<DW15>," had set fire to it before it could be saved.

Upon our approach to Milledgeville, Governor Brown of Georgia, had
released all of the convicts in the State Prison at that place. In
celebration of their freedom, their first act was to destroy the old
prison. Our first work was to destroy the Milledgeville arsenal, in
which was stored a large quantity of Confederate arms and ammunition. We
carried out and threw into the river, all of the ammunition in the
magazine, and burned up all of the arms and equipment. Besides several
thousand stands of good arms, there were a lot of old-fashioned rifles
and shot-guns, and thousands of pikes and bowie knives that had been
manufactured by the State for the militia, with which to repel Yankees.
In the state-house were millions of dollars of Georgia State money, in
bills of all denominations and to these the men helped themselves
without limit. All of the cotton in the vicinity that could be burned
without endangering good buildings, was destroyed, and that which was
stored in the city was bonded not to be turned over to the Confederate
Government, or used for its benefit. I was sent out with a detachment of
men to search the stores for tobacco, and found enough to load several
wagons, which kept the army supplied with that article until we reached
Savannah.

From Milledgeville we marched eastward toward Sandersville, through a
very poor country. At Buffalo Creek, a swampy stream about eight miles
from Sandersville, we found that the seven bridges crossing it had been
burned--the <DW64>s told us that this had been done by the people of
Sandersville. We were delayed about three hours in repairing the
bridges, so did not arrive at Sandersville until the next morning. For
the last two days we had been on slim rations, and Sandersville was well
supplied. Of course there was a general rush for eatables, and the town
was soon raided. The citizens hurried to Sherman to make complaint and
get protection.

He turned on them and asked, "Which of you was it who set fire to those
bridges yesterday?" They all denied having done it, but admitted that it
had been done by citizens of the town. "Well," said he, "those that make
war must take the consequences," which was all the consolation they
got. Later, we found the man who fired the bridges; he was promptly
arrested and his property burned.

As we entered Sandersville we had a sharp skirmish with Wheeler's
Confederate Cavalry, in which two of them were killed. Our Indians
seemed to think it was not exactly right to leave the dead bodies with
their scalps on. They soon fell into the civilized custom of making war,
however, and did not afterward express any desire to take scalps.

From Sandersville we turned south until we reached the Georgia Central
Railroad at Tennille Station. We burned the railway buildings there, and
proceeded along the line, tearing it up as we went along.

On November 28 we passed near the home of the Honorable Herschel V.
Johnson.[1] By prodding into the ground with their ramrods, some of our
foragers found there a lot of more or less valuable papers and letters,
which had for safe-keeping been buried in his cabbage patch. Some of the
letters from his son, who was an officer on Hood's staff, afforded us
much amusement. Our mess forager found here, also, a stock of flour that
lasted until we reached Savannah.

[1] H. V. Johnson was born in Burke County, Georgia, in 1812. He served
his State as Federal Senator from 1848 to 1849, and as Governor from
1853 to 1857. In 1860 he was nominated for the Vice-Presidency on the
ticket of Stephen A. Douglas. He opposed to the last the secession of
Georgia, but ultimately cast his lot with his State, and was elected to
the Confederate Senate. After the war he was active in securing the
restoration of Georgia to her political rights in the Union. In 1866 he
was again chosen to the Federal Senate, but was unable to serve under
the reconstruction acts of Congress. He died in Jefferson County,
Georgia, in 1880.



Thus far, we had almost always found sufficient provisions along the
line of march to feed the command fairly well. Now, however, we were
obliged to send out strong parties of foragers for long distances on our
flanks, to search the country in order to get enough to eat. Wherever we
went we destroyed everything that might be of value to the enemy. On the
29th, near Bostwick, we burned up millions of feet of bridge timber, all
got out and framed for bridges, that the Confederates expected to build
when the Yankees were driven out. I noticed that some of the timbers
were marked Strawberry Plains and Chattanooga Creek.

On December 3 our column crossed the Millen & Augusta Railroad near
Millen, and destroyed as much of it as we could. We were now in a level,
sandy country, thickly covered with pine timber, and plantations were
few and scattered. On the 4th we heard cannonading in the distance,
which was said by citizens to be at Charleston, South Carolina, seventy
miles away. On the 7th we found our road for a distance obstructed with
felled timber, which, however, so little delayed the march that those in
the rear would not have known of it. On the 8th, after passing
Springfield, the trains and pack-mules were left behind, with the Third
Division as a guard, while the First and Second Divisions pushed on
rapidly toward Savannah.




_In Front of Savannah_


We encountered the enemy in force for the first time fourteen miles from
Savannah, in Monteith Swamp, where they had built an earthwork across
the road and felled trees in front of it. The First Brigade of our
Division was sent around to their left, and our Brigade to their right,
while the Third Brigade moved forward on the center. Our plan was to
hold their attention to the front, while we got around on their rear.
They discovered us in time, however, to escape. Captain Kleven of
Company H, who with his skirmishers, was in advance of our Brigade, made
a rapid movement forward as soon as he saw the enemy falling back, and
succeeded in capturing three prisoners. The First Brigade opened fire at
about the same time, sending a few bullets over our way, and severely
wounding in the foot, Captain Buck of Company B. The Third Brigade also
came up in time to claim a share in the honor of capturing the three
prisoners. Finally, to settle the dispute, the prisoners themselves were
brought to Division headquarters, where they pointed out Captain Kleven
as their captor.

At Monteith Station we captured the post-office and a considerable mail.
The letters, which were mostly written by the soldiers whom we had
tried to capture the day before, afforded the men an abundance of fun.

On the 10th we marched to within about four miles of Savannah, where we
were stopped by the entrenched enemy. While we were getting into line, a
detail of foragers, gathered along the banks of the Savannah River,
spied a small steamer coming up the stream from the city. They hid
themselves along the shore until the boat was directly opposite, when
they opened a musketry fire and compelled the craft to surrender. It
proved to be a Confederate dispatch boat on its way up the river to warn
the fleet that Sherman and his army had arrived. The fleet did not
receive the warning, and interesting developments followed. The men who
had captured the prize did not know its value, and after stripping it of
everything they wanted, set fire to it.

The country between our lines and those of the enemy was a big rice
plantation, which overflowed at every high tide, and which could be kept
under water by closing the flood-gates. The only means of access to the
city were the narrow causeways built through this swamp. At the point
where we were located, the Savannah River is divided by Argyle Island
into two channels, the main or navigable one being near the Georgia
shore. The island is about ten miles long, and at our end something like
a mile wide. It was occupied by a large rice plantation, which naturally
overflowed about two feet at high tide, but which had been ditched and
diked so that the flow was regulated at the flood-gates. If we could
control these, we could keep the island passable. The plantation
buildings were situated on the east side, near the channel, where a
number of acres rose high enough above the general surface to be safe
from overflow.

On the evening of the 11th our Regiment was ordered across to Argyle
Island. There were on hand but two or three skiffs, and only a portion
of the men could be brought over that night. In the morning the crossing
was being continued, when suddenly the discovery was made that three
steamers were coming around the bend of the river on their way to
Savannah. Owing to the vigilance of our foragers on the previous day,
they had received no warning of the presence of Sherman's army.

Captain Winegar of Battery M, First New York Artillery, had his rifled
guns in position on a slight elevation along the shore, where he
commanded the river for a stretch of nearly a mile. As soon as the
steamers, which were a part of Commodore Tattnall's Mosquito Fleet, came
into plain view, he opened on them. They probably had never before been
under fire for their crews seemed confused. The first craft, which was a
gunboat, commenced immediately backing and turning. The second, the
armed tender "Resolute," started to do the same, but was run into by the
third, and so badly crippled that she drifted ashore against Argyle
Island. The other two vessels managed to escape up the river.

While the miniature naval battle was going on, our men who were on the
island, under command of Captain Barager, had hastened to the scene.
When the "Resolute" drifted ashore, they were on hand to prevent the
officers and crew from making their escape in small boats, as they had
started to do. There were twenty prisoners in all. We afterwards had a
fine lot of fun listening to the officers as they accused one another of
being the cause of the disaster. The "Resolute" was towed over to the
Georgia shore, near the battery, but could not be repaired in time to be
of any service in our future operations on the island.

The question of rations was at this time becoming vital. One day's
allowance had been issued to us on the day after our arrival in front of
Savannah. We were, therefore, on the lookout for anything that might
serve to supplement our supplies. As soon as my Company had come across
to the island, we took the shortest route to the plantation buildings on
the east side. Not a thing was left; those who had come before us had
already absorbed everything. But at the landing I found a good six-oared
boat that would carry about ten men besides the rowers. Impressing a
crew of <DW64>s to row the boat, I started for a plantation on the other
side of the river, about half a mile up, thinking that I would be the
first man of Sherman's army to invade South Carolina. On landing,
however, I was told by the blacks that two of our "<DW15>s" had been
there the day before, and in an altercation with the plantation hands
had killed one of them. The funeral was just going on when we arrived.
Subsequent events made me believe that Wheeler's Cavalry, and not our
men were responsible for this tragedy.

I placed a sentinel out on the only road by which a mounted force could
approach, and then began a search for eatables. We soon were rewarded by
a good supply of sweet potatoes and sorghum. In the boat-house we found
a fine lot of boats; as these were especially valuable for our purposes,
we shoved them all out into the river to float down to our landing on
the island. We had just loaded up our supplies, when my sentinel came
running in with the report that a large force of cavalry were coming. We
hastily pulled back to the island and waited for them; but they did not
come to close quarters and soon retired.

Three days later I was sent out with Captain Barager's Company and my
own to take possession of this plantation. We knew that the enemy now
held it in some force, but we did not know how strong they were. I had
secured boats enough on our first raid to be able to take over both of
our companies at one time. We started in the morning, when it was as yet
scarcely light, hoping to come upon the enemy unexpectedly. Their
sentinels discovered us, however, and fired on us while crossing. We
landed about a quarter of a mile from the plantation buildings and
rapidly pushed forward. I sent Barager with his Company to the right,
while I took the direct course to the rice mill, in which the enemy were
sheltered.

The country was broken up into a mass of ditches, <DW18>s, and canals. We
found that our only road was along a narrow <DW18>, and that we should
either have to return or charge them in single file. We did not retreat.
In less time than it takes to tell this story, we had the mill. They
gave us one volley and hit nobody. We did not fire a shot. They escaped
with their guns and ammunition, but we captured all their provisions,
including their breakfast cooking on the fire. For the first time in
three days we had all that we wanted to eat. Colonel Hawley came over
soon after, with three more companies, but toward night the Confederates
appeared in such force that we again withdrew to the island.

The next morning the enemy brought down a section of artillery to the
Smith Plantation, as it was called, and commenced shelling our island
camp. I was sent with my Company to get as close as possible to them on
our side of the river, and either silence them or drive them off. I got
up within about a hundred and fifty yards of them and opened fire. They
immediately turned their guns on us, and for a few minutes gave it to us
hot. We had good shelter, however, and lost only one man--John Furlong,
a veteran of Company E. It took me about twenty minutes to drive off the
battery, but their infantry held out all day.

On the 19th the whole Brigade crossed over to the Smith Plantation, with
a section of artillery. Entrenchments were built at all commanding
points, and preparation made to hold the position. On the 20th Colonel
Hawley made a reconnoissance in force toward Union Causeway, the only
Confederate outlet from Savannah, but found the enemy in such strength
that he could not reach it. But from our position we could see the lines
of their wagons leaving the city. On the morning of the 21st it was
found that the enemy had evacuated Savannah, and our troops moved in and
took possession.

We now received orders to recross the river to the Georgia side and
march to Savannah. We had nothing but flatboats to cross in, and a
strong wind was against us, so that we made slow progress while our
Regiment covered the crossing. When all the rest had passed over, and we
were about half embarked, the enemy swarmed down upon us by the
thousand. They had us surrounded on three sides, with a river behind;
and our chances for seeing Savannah were not brilliant. Nevertheless, we
faced about and prepared to fight them. Our friends of the Second
Massachusetts came, without orders, back to our assistance, and placed
themselves where they could cover our flanks. We were sheltered behind a
<DW18>, and the enemy could not get at us save by charging across an open
rice field; this they did not have the nerve to do, so that when
darkness settled down we got off safely to the island. I think there was
not a man in our command, but thanked his lucky stars that it was not
some of Lee's veterans that had us in that fix that night.




_In Savannah_


The next day, we crossed without interruption from the island to the
Georgia shore, which we reached by four o'clock, and then marched toward
Savannah. We went into camp on the bank of the river about two miles
from the city, and this ended on our part the "March to the Sea."

Just twenty-five days had elapsed from the time our army left Atlanta
until it signalled the fleet off the coast. During that time our wing
had marched 300 miles, destroyed over 400 miles of railroad and an
amount of cotton that can hardly be estimated, and most of the time had
lived off the country. Of our immense train of 2,500 wagons not one had
been captured on the route. We had moreover secured an almost entirely
new stock of mules and horses. And to crown all, we had won Savannah
with an immense amount of the spoils of war. It was everywhere the
opinion that Sherman had struck the hardest blow at the Rebellion that
it had yet received, and at the least cost. The troops were in high
spirits over their continued successes. The feeling prevailed that they
had but to start for a place, and it was theirs. The confidence in
Sherman was unlimited. When we left Atlanta, on what was considered the
most perilous movement of the war, I never heard a single expression of
doubt as to our ultimate success. The Confederates whom we encountered
considered him the ablest general that had commanded troops in the war,
and feared him more than any other.

We remained at Savannah until January 17, 1865. Our camp was in a
beautiful grove of live oaks and pine, festooned with Spanish moss, and
the weather was delightful. The work was comparatively light, and the
men were confidently looking forward to the end of the war. We built new
fortifications around the city on nearly the same lines as the old
Revolutionary works. New roads were constructed across Hutchinson Island
and northward into South Carolina. We were also busy, in order that
supplies might be brought in as fast as needed, in clearing out the
Savannah River, which the enemy had closed with obstructions.

The citizens of Savannah seemed well pleased with their change of
rulers. They uniformly treated us with courtesy, and displayed a
sociability that we did not usually encounter in the South. In return,
General Sherman showed them every possible consideration. I was never in
a captured place where private property was respected and protected as
it was here, or where citizens were allowed so many privileges.
Employment was furnished to those who wanted it, and a large amount of
provisions was placed at the disposal of the mayor of the city for
distribution among the destitute.

A good story was told on the Episcopal rector of the town. He had been
deputized by the rest of the clergy to wait on General Sherman, and get
permission to preach. When he stated his business, Sherman at once
replied, "Of course you can preach; that is just what I want you to do."

The preacher then stammered out an enquiry whether he would be compelled
to pray for the President of the United States. "Pray for Jeff. Davis
or the Devil, if you want to," replied Sherman; "I think you had better
pray for them, for they need it more than Lincoln."




_Marching Northward_


On January 17 we crossed the Savannah River on our bridge of flatboats,
and started on our new campaign to the North. We were at the outset met
by such fearful weather that we were virtually brought to a standstill.
Only a portion of our army had yet crossed to the South Carolina side,
when a freshet of unprecedented height raised the river so suddenly that
it swept away the bridge, overflowed Hutchinson Island, and carried off
a lot of wagons and mules that were just about to start. The freshet
came before there had been a drop of rain in our vicinity; but it began
to rain immediately after, and it seemed as though it would never stop.
The country everywhere became a perfect quagmire, and a dry spot was
hard to find.

Slowly we proceeded up the east side of the Savannah River, the
remainder of Sherman's army following on the right side. On the 29th,
at Robertsville, we encountered a strong force of Wheeler's Cavalry,
which delayed our column for a short time. Our Regiment was sent to the
front to drive them off. The two right companies, under command of
Captain Haskins, deployed as skirmishers, and soon swept the enemy away
like chaff before the wind. On the 30th we opened communications with
Sherman at Sister's Ferry, where he had brought the remainder of his
army across into South Carolina.

We now left Savannah River, marching almost directly north. Profiting by
our previous experiences, we early organized a foraging party of four
men from each company. They had permission to mount themselves with
captured animals as soon as possible. In a short time they not only had
mounts, but sufficient pack animals to carry several days' provisions
for the Regiment. The first time they came into camp they presented a
motley appearance, riding horses and mules, and displaying every variety
of saddle and harness known to man. But they were soon as well mounted
as the cavalry, and had transportation and equipment for any service. As
we marched northward, the enemy's cavalry became more and more active
on our flanks, so that our foragers were compelled to unite for
protection. Our detail and that from the Second Massachusetts, under
Lieutenant Thompson, were united almost from the start.

The low ground and the constant rains made marching so difficult that we
rarely covered more than twelve miles in a day. Much of the way we were
obliged to corduroy the roads for the trains. For this purpose we used
fence rails when they were to be had; when there were none, we cut
timber and brush. Reaching the Charleston & Augusta Railroad at Graham
Station on February 7, we spent the next four days in destroying the
tracks toward Augusta.

While we were in camp at Graham Station, Colonel Hawley, who now
commanded our Brigade, and General Slocum, our Corps commander, had an
argument as to the best method of tearing up a railroad track. Hawley
contended that it was best to line up the men along the track, and at
the word of command have them pick it up and turn it over. Slocum
protested that this could not be done. A bet was made of a bottle of
Apollinaris water, or something else, and Hawley sent for his old
Regiment to try the experiment. When the order came to fall in without
arms, our men were cooking their supper. Captain Woodford of Hawley's
staff went along the line, while we were forming, and explained that the
Colonel had made a bet as to what the Regiment could do. We were soon
lined up along the track, and the command was given to take hold and
lift. In the hands of those brawny men, that railroad was a plaything.
It went over so fast, that some of the staff officers who had gathered
to watch the performance, had to move lively to escape the flying rails
and ties.[2]

[2] A detailed description of the manner of destroying railroad track
during Sherman's Campaign is given by Gen. H. W. Slocum, "Sherman's
March from Savannah to Bentonville," in _Century Magazine_ Old Series,
xxxiv, p. 930.


From Graham Station we marched northward through constant rain and mud,
subsisting entirely on the country, without drawing rations except
coffee or sugar, and generally we had plenty to eat; corn meal and bacon
constituted our usual bill of fare. The army was in fine spirits. In
thus picking up a living in such a country, where the only products of
the soil seemed to be tar and rosin, and pitch pines the only visible
vegetation, they felt confident of their ability to find a living
anywhere.

Our Corps did not enter Columbia, but crossed the Saluda River about ten
miles above. The Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps of the Army of the
Tennessee occupied the city, and destroyed everything in it. They
released about sixty Union officers who were confined there; and between
them and the soldiers and the whiskey that was found Columbia soon
ceased to exist. Scarcely a private residence, even, was left. The only
thing that would not burn was the new state-house, said to have been the
finest in the Union, and this was mined and blown up. South Carolina was
having a bitter taste of the horrors of war.

On February 21 we struck at Winnsboro the railroad running between
Columbia and Charlotteville; and following this northward for a
distance, destroyed it as we went along. Then turning toward the
northeast, by way of Rocky Mount, Hanging Rock, and Chesterfield, we
marched to Fayetteville, North Carolina.

During the entire march from Columbia to Fayetteville we had but three
pleasant days; the rain was almost continuous. Our road, most of the
way, was through swamps and creeks, where bridges had to be built and
roads corduroyed. Frequently, from early morning until midnight, we
worked in rain and mud to get our trains along for six or eight miles.
The rough work soon wore out our clothing--many of the men were
barefooted; many were wearing citizen's dress; the whole army looked
more like Falstaff's ragged regiment than soldiers of the United States.
But we met little opposition from the enemy. The spirit of four years
before seemed to have been beaten out of them. We felt that the only
Confederate troops that would still give us serious fighting, were those
with Lee at Richmond.

Arriving at Fayetteville on March 12, we once more opened communication
with the fleet, by way of Wilmington and Cape Fear River. On the 15th we
set out on our way to Goldsboro, and the first night went early into
camp, about ten miles from Fayetteville. At eight o'clock, however, we
were sent out again into a dark and stormy night to go to the assistance
of General Kilpatrick's Cavalry, which had met the enemy. For five miles
we waded through mud and water to the place of danger, and bivouacked
for the night in line, facing the enemy. In the morning we had some
sharp skirmishing, but in the afternoon the enemy were driven from their
position.

On the 19th General Carlin's Division of the Fourteenth Corps was
attacked and thrown into confusion by General Joe Johnston's army near
Bentonville. Our Brigade was rapidly pushed forward with a number of
others, and formed in line of battle near the left of the Corps. The
enemy made several attacks, the brunt of which fell upon the troops to
the right, and then retreated. This battle, which the Union Army
nicknamed the Battle of Acorn Run, in compliment to the badge of the
Fourteenth Corps, was the last in which our Regiment was engaged during
the war.

On the 22nd, we advanced once more, and found that the enemy was gone.
Two days later we arrived at Goldsboro, and occupied the city without
opposition. On the 27th, for the first time since we had left Savannah,
rations were issued to the troops.




_Peace_


We began the last campaign of the war on April 10, entering Raleigh on
the 13th without resistance. The next day we again began to organize our
foraging parties, and to make preparations for a campaign back through
Georgia. During the day, however, everything was changed. General
Johnston, following Lee's surrender on April 9, had sent in asking for
terms.

On April 20 I wrote home the following letter:

                            CAMP OF THE 3RD WIS. VET. INFTY.
                                 RALEIGH, N. C., APRIL 20, 1864.

    My Dear ----:

    The Angel of Peace has spread his wings over our country once more.
    The glad tidings were announced to the army last night by General
    Sherman in general orders. As soon as the agreement which he had
    made with General Johnston and higher authorities could be ratified
    at Washington, peace would be restored from the Potomac to the Rio
    Grande. It was a glorious day for us who have seen the thing through
    from the beginning to the end. General Sherman also says that he
    expects "soon to have the pleasure of conducting this army to its
    homes," and I believe that within six weeks you will see me in
    Chicago "home from the wars."

    I don't know just exactly what the terms of surrender are, but it is
    the opinion of high officers that no troops will be needed for
    garrison duty in the South. The rebels have been so completely
    whipped that they will never want to try another rebellion. I
    understand that Jeff. made no stipulation for his personal safety,
    but said he was willing to take his trial before the courts, and
    trust to the mercy of the American people. The only difficulty in
    the negotiations was on the question of the confiscation of landed
    property, and I have not learned how that was arranged. But I
    believe that we have been so completely victorious that we can
    afford to be merciful, and that a general amnesty will do more to
    cement the Union than the most rigorous punishment. The punishment
    that the South has already endured is like Cain's "greater than they
    can bear." The destruction of life in this war in the South has been
    terrible.

    The news that Johnston had asked for terms on which to surrender his
    army was published on the 16th. On the morning of the 17th a gloom
    was thrown over the whole army by the announcement of the
    assassination of the President, which was reported to have occurred
    on the 11th. I never saw such a gloomy, sad time since I have been
    in the army as that. I don't think we knew how much we did think of
    him until then. Many expressed the opinion that if it had been Andy
    Johnson and Stanton, it would not have been much of a calamity. The
    next day we had New York papers of the 14th which made no mention of
    the murder, and we all thought we had been hoaxed. Then the
    explanation was made that the operator at Morehead City had made an
    error, and that the assassination had been on the 14th instead of
    the 11th, and now I hardly know what to believe about it. We shall
    probably get more news today.

    We are about to move our camp, and now for the first time comfort
    instead of safety is considered in the selection. Just think of it!
    I can hardly realize it. No more skirmishing, no more digging
    trenches and building breastworks, no more whistling bullets,
    rattling grape-shot, or screaming shells, no more friends and
    comrades to be killed or wounded.

    I don't know what has become of all my letters lately. The mail has
    come in here three times, and I have not had a letter. My last
    letters were dated in February, except one from * * * of March 7. I
    suppose they will all come in a heap one of these days. * * * The
    weather is very fine though almost too warm. We have occasional
    showers, and vegetation is growing fine. This part of North Carolina
    is very fine country and crops look well.

    A great many of Lee's paroled army are coming in here, and they seem
    more pleased at being whipped or at getting home than we do at
    having gained a victory. Some of them say they cheered louder when
    they surrendered than Grant's army when they captured them.

       *       *       *       *       *

Our camps were now overrun with citizens and paroled Confederate
soldiers, who were hunting for horses that they had lost; some of them
had come as far as sixty or seventy miles. We gave them all the spare
horses that we had, for we knew that the Government would have to help
them in some way to keep them from starvation. We also issued to them
large quantities of rations, for there was nothing eatable left in all
the track of Sherman's army. On the 29th, general orders were issued
announcing the formal surrender of Johnston's army.




_Homeward_


On the next day began the march to Washington. We entered Richmond on
May 11, and on the 15th camped near the old battle-field of
Chancellorsville. On the 24th we marched into Washington, where the
Union army passed in review before all the dignitaries of our Nation,
the representatives of foreign lands, and the immense throngs of people
who had gathered from far and near to see Sherman's veterans. For this
review, we selected from our Regiment, eight companies of thirty-two men
each--the best drilled soldiers that we had. It was my place to ride in
the rear of the Regiment as it marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, and no
command made a better show than ours. From the Capitol to the reviewing
stand, the marching and wheeling were simply perfect.

We now went into camp near Bladensburg, where all of the men whose terms
of service expired before October 1 were mustered out and sent home. On
June 6, General Hawley issued his farewell order to the old Brigade.
When it was broken up on the next day, the officers of the Second
Massachusetts sent to the officers of our regiment the formal expression
of the feeling with which they parted from us. We replied in a similar
letter. Even now, after a lapse of twenty-six years, it stirs the blood
to read these two messages.[3]

[3] This correspondence was as follows:

                            Second Massachusetts Infantry,
                               Camp Slocum, Washington, D. C, June 4,
                                    1865.

    We, the undersigned, officers of the Second Massachusetts Infantry,
    wish to express to the officers of the Third Wisconsin Infantry our
    heartfelt regret that the fortunes of the service are about to
    separate our respective organizations.

    From the campaign of 1862, in the Shenandoah Valley to the present
    glorious close of this bloody war, we have fought and marched side
    by side with you in almost every rebellious state. To have been
    brigaded together for so long a time is in itself remarkable; no less
    so is it that between our two regiments there should always have
    existed such strong feelings of friendship and mutual regard, untinged
    by the slightest shadow of jealousy.

    As we recall now, some of the hard positions we have been in, we
    cannot help remembering how often our anxiety was lessened by the
    knowledge that the old Third Wisconsin was close at hand to support
    us. We know that you have had the same thoughts about us. Nothing in
    this whole war will be pleasanter for us to look back upon than this
    feeling of mutual respect and reliance. It not only elevated the tone
    of both our regiments, but we honestly believe, it went a great way
    toward making our brigade and division what they are now acknowledged
    to be--among the very best organizations of the army.

    We assure you that in our own State, wherever the Second Massachusetts
    is known, its brother regiment is also famous. Whenever any of us
    have been at home, among the first inquiries would be, "How is the
    Third Wisconsin?" It has been with pride that we have answered, "It is
    the same staunch old regiment that fought at Antietam and
    Chancellorsville."

    These are not compliments but expressions of plain, honest feelings.
    We have been knit together by deeds not words; deeds, which, as time
    goes on, we shall look back upon with continually increasing pride.

    Together we have shared dangers and hardships, victories and defeats;
    and it is hard now for us to part; but in the natural order of things,
    the war being over, you go towards your homes in the west, we stay near
    ours in the east. Let us not, however, though separated by thousands of
    miles, forget these old associations. Let us rather cherish them with
    the fondest recollections: let it be a story to hand down to our
    children and children's children, how the Second Massachusetts and
    Third Wisconsin fought shoulder to shoulder through the great
    rebellion, and achieved together glory and renown. We ask you to accept
    this testimonial as a slight evidence of our affection and esteem. We
    bid you farewell, and God bless you, one and all,

    C. F. Morse, Lieutenant Colonel, Com.; James Francis, Major; C. E.
        Munn, Surgeon; John A. Fox, Adjutant; E. A. Hawes, Quartermaster;
        Captains--Daniel Oakey, F. W. Crowninshield, E. A. Phalen, George
        A. Thayer, Theodore K. Parker, Dennis Mehan, Henry N. Comey,
        William E. Perkins; First Lieutenants--George J. Thompson, Jesse
        Richardson, Moses P. Richardson, William T. McAlpine, Jed C.
        Thompson, William D. Toombs.

           *       *       *       *       *

                                 Third Wisconsin V. V. Infantry,
                                   Camp Slocum, near Washington, D. C.
                                           June 7, 1865.


    To the officers of the Second Massachusetts Veteran Volunteer
        Infantry:

    The undersigned, officers of the Third Wisconsin Veteran Volunteer
    Infantry, tender their heartfelt thanks for your friendly communication
    of the 4th inst. It was with mingled feelings of pride and pleasure,
    not, however, unmixed with pain, that we perused it--pride at being
    thus associated with a regiment, which by patient endurance, good
    discipline, and unflinching bravery, has won for itself so honorable a
    name as the Second Massachusetts; pleasure at the thought that, even
    amid the stirring scenes of active war, the finer attributes of
    humanity are not forgotten, and that friendship, one of the noblest
    sentiments of the soul, still asserts her claims; pain at the
    recollection of the many gallant and brave, whose names have been
    associated with yours in the great struggle now happily terminated,
    but who have given their lives for a country they loved so well.

    That "every rose has its thorn" was never more apparent to us than
    now. While in the toil and suffering of our active campaigns, we have
    looked forward with unmixed joy to the time when the angel of peace
    should once more spread her wings over the land, and we should return
    home to enjoy the sweets of social and civil life, but now that the
    hour is at hand when we must say farewell to those with whom we have
    been associated in the service of our common country, when we must join
    the parting hand with you, our companions and brothers in arms, our joy
    is mingled with sadness and our smiles with tears.

    We accept your communication, not only as a manifestation of personal
    regard, but also as a fraternal greeting from the east to the west,
    which rising superior to local jealousies and factional strife, and
    remembering only the mingled dust of our dead on many battlefields, and
    the common country for which they sacrificed their all, proclaims us,
    in heart and in country, one and inseparable.

    In parting, we assure you that, highly as we prize this expression of
    sentiment toward us, and sacredly as we will preserve it as the highest
    honor yet received, it is not needed to secure remembrance. The
    ineffaceable pictures of the past deeply engraven in our hearts, and
    lit up by the eternal flame of friendship will ever keep the Second
    Massachusetts Veteran Volunteer Infantry prominent among our pleasing
    memories in the future.

    Wishing you all success and happiness and Heaven's best blessing, we
    bid you farewell. We are, brothers, yours fraternally,

    George W. Stevenson, Lieutenant-Colonel; Warham Parks, Major; J. G.
        Conley, Surgeon; T. J. Kopff, Assistant Surgeon; A. C. Taylor,
        Adjutant; J. T. Marvin, Quartermaster; I. E. Springer, Chaplain.
        Captains--Ralph Van Brunt, Julian W. Hinckley, N. Daniels, E.
        Giddings, A. D. Haskins, C. R. Barager, J. Woodford, John M.
        Schweers, John E. Kleven. First Lieutenants--Stephen Lieurance,
        Oliver A. Hegg, J. D. Goodrich, John Agnew, John B. Du Bois, Abner
        Hubbell, J. D. Babcock, W. W. Freeman, George H. Cutter. Second
        Lieutenants--E. V. Moran, Lewis Colby, Edwin F. Proctor, Elon G.
        Biers, David Clark, A. S. Hill.



The Western veteran regiments still had work before them, and were not
mustered out. They were organized as a provisional Brigade under
Hawley's command, and ordered to Louisville, Kentucky. Our Regiment left
the east on June 11, travelling by way of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad
to Parkersburg, and then down the Ohio River to Louisville. Here the
Regiment was filled up with men from other Wisconsin commands, that were
mustered out of service, until we had about 1,500 on our muster rolls.
It was rumored, and in fact intended, that we should go to Mexico to
drive out the French. The programme was entirely changed, however, when
news came of the voluntary withdrawal of the French soldiers, and
orders were issued to muster out our Regiment.

A considerable number of our old veterans did not want to go home. A
company was made up of those who wished to enter the services of the
Juarez government in Mexico--at least they wished to go, if I would go
in command. I was not quite ready, however, to become a soldier of
fortune. When our duty to the Federal Government had been accomplished,
I was as anxious as any to be mustered out of the army of war, and
return to the army of peace.




INDEX

  Agnew, Lieut. John, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Alexandria (Va.), 92, 93, 95; Army of Potomac at, 45.

  Ames, Gen. Adelbert, commands expedition, 79.

  ARMIES--
    Cumberland, Third Wisconsin joins, 97;
      reorganized, 115;
      at New Hope Church, 125.
    Hood's, plunders Atlanta, 142.
    Jackson's, at Chancellorsville, 71.
    Johnston's, at Bentonville, 172;
       surrenders, 114, 176.
    Northern Virginia, 39, 81;
      battleflags captured, 91;
      paroled, 176.
    Potomac, 17, 39, 41, 64, 66, 117, 159;
      at Washington, 46;
      consolidated, 115;
      Third Wisconsin leaves, 97.
    Sherman's, 176;
      advance, 116;
      at Atlanta, 143;
      Savannah, 157;
      in South Carolina, 158;
      Georgia, 166.
    Tennessee, 122, 133, 146;
      destroys Columbia, 170.
    Thomas's, opposes Hood, 147.
    Western, successful, 17.
    Western Virginia, 38, 43.

  Atlanta (Ga.), 112, 143, 163, 164;
    exposed, 131;
    march to, 116;
    besieged, 131-141;
    evacuated, 140, 147;
    Union army near, 129, 142, 145;
    destroyed, 146, 147.

  Augur, Gen. Christopher C., at Cedar Mountain, 33.

  Augusta (Ga.), 168;
    Slocum marches toward, 147.

  Augusta Railroad, destroyed, 147, 148.


  Babcock, Lieut. Justin D., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Baltimore (Md.), threatened, 93.

  Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, 98, 180.

  Banks, Gen. Nathaniel P., 14, 45;
    commands corps 30, 31;
    retreats, 23, 25, 27, 28;
    protects Winchester, 29;
    at Cedar Mountain, 32, 33, 38;
    criticized, 37.

  Barager, Capt. Charles R., of Third Wisconsin, 180;
    wounded, 132;
    in Sherman's campaign, 157, 160.

  BATTLES--
    Acorn Run, 172.
    Antietam, 51-63, 70, 94, 178.
    Bentonville, 172.
    Bolivar Heights, 13.
    Cassville, 122.
    Catoctin Mountains, 48.
    Chancellorsville, 69-77, 177, 178.
    Chantilly, 44.
    Chickamauga, 100, 116.
    Dallas, 122-126.
    Fort Donelson, 14.
    Fort Henry, 14.
    Fredericksburg, 64, 76.
    Gettysburg, 82-89, 94.
    Jonesboro, 141.
    Kettle Run, 42.
    Lookout Mountain, 102.
    Manassas, 42, 43.
    Missionary Ridge, 102.
    Monteith Swamp, 153, 154.
    Murfreesboro, 99.
    New Hope Church, 122-126.
    Peach Tree Creek, 129, 134.
    Pumpkinvine Creek, 126.
    Resaca, 117-122.
    Roanoke Island, 14.
    Somerset, 14.
    South Mountain, 50, 51.
    Winchester, 18, 19.

  Bealeton Station (Va.), 79, 97.

  Bentonville (N. C.), Sherman at, 169.

  Benwood (W. Va.), 98.

  Bertram, Capt. Henry, at Bolivar Heights, 12, 13.

  Biers, Lieut. Elon G., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Birney, Gen. David B., at Chancellorsville, 71, 74.

  Bladensburg (Md.), army encamped near, 177.

  Blanchard, Lieut. Edward L., wounded, 132.

  Bolivar Heights (Va.), 15. See also Battles.

  Boone, ----, Confederate officer, 107, 108.

  Boone, Daniel, grandson captured, 107.

  Boonsborough (Md.), 50, 51.

  Bostwick (Ga.), lumber destroyed, 152.

  Bragg, Gen. Braxton, reenforced, 96.

  Brandy Station (Va.), 79, 97.

  Bridgeport (Ala.), 100, 116.

  Bristoe Station (Va.), cars burned at, 43.

  Brixey, Capt. Calvin, murders citizen, 114;
    killed, 115.

  Broad Run (Va.), 43.

  Brodhead, Col. Thornton F., death, 38.

  Brown, John, at Harpers Ferry, 10;
    hung, 16.

  Brown, Gov. Joseph E., releases convicts, 149.

  Buck, Capt. Wilson S., wounded, 154.

  Buena Vista (Wis.), school at, 1.

  Buffalo (N. Y.), reception at, 8.

  Bull Run (Va.), 44. See also Battles: Manassas.

  Butterfield, Gen. Daniel, in skirmish, 118.

  Burnside, Gen. Ambrose E., at Roanoke Island, 14;
    removed, 64.


  Camp Randall (Wis.), 120.

  Camp Slocum (Washington, D. C.), 178, 179.

  Carlin, Gen. William P., at Bentonville, 172.

  Cassville (Ga.), occupied, 122.

  Cemetery Ridge (Pa.), 83;
    charge on, 87.
    See also Battles: Gettysburg.

  Centerville (Va.), 44, 81.

  _Century Magazine_, 169.

  Chancellor House (Va.), 70, 72, 73, 76.

  Charleston (S. C.), 146, 153.

  Charleston & Augusta Railroad, destroyed, 168.

  Charlestown (Va.), 13, 16.

  Charlotteville (S. C.), railroad destroyed, 170.

  Chattanooga (Tenn.), 101;
    campaign at, 97, 100, 107, 127, 146.

  Chesterfield (S. C.), 171.

  Chicago (Ill.), 7, 174.

  Chilcote, Judge ----, murdered, 114.

  Chippewa Indians, in Wisconsin regiment, 143;
    at Sandersville, 151.

  Clark, Capt. Andrew, commands militia, 3.

  Clark, Lieut. David B., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Cleveland (Ohio), 7.

  Colby, Lieut. Lewis, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Colgrove, Col. Silas, at Chancellorsville, 75.

  Collins, Joseph, killed, 61.

  Columbia (S. C.), 170, 171.

  Columbus (Ohio), reception at, 98.

  Comey, Capt. Henry N., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Conley, Surg. J. Griffin, of Third Wisconsin, 125, 126, 180.

  Connecticut, 97;
    Fifth Regiment, 23.

  Cooper, Judge Henry, appeals to Lincoln, 108.

  CORPS--
    First (Sigel's), 30, at Cedar Mountain, 36;
      (Hooker's), at Antietam, 52;
      Gettysburg, 83, 86.
    Second, at Gettysburg, 87.
    Third (McDowell's), 30;
      at Cedar Mountain, 36;
      (Heintzelman's), 42;
      (Sickles's), at Gettysburg, 84, 85.
    Fourth, defeated, 117.
    Fifth (Banks's), 30;
      (Porter's), 42;
      at Chancellorsville, 66, 71.
    Sixth (Franklin's), 51, 62;
      (Sedgwick's), at Fredericksburg, 76.
    Ninth (Burnside's), at Catoctin Mountains, 48.
    Eleventh, 97, 100, 115;
      at Chancellorsville, 66, 69, 71;
      Gettysburg, 83.
    Twelfth, 78, 81, 91, 115;
      at Chancellorsville, 66, 69, 89;
      Gettysburg, 89.
    Fourteenth, at Bentonville, 172.
    Fifteenth, destroys Columbia, 170.
    Seventeenth, destroys Columbia, 170.
    Twentieth, 115, 128, 133, 134, 135, 139, 147;
      in Atlanta campaign, 131, 138, 141, 144;
      Savannah campaign, 170;
      at New Hope Church, 125;
      Peach Tree Creek, 129, 134, 135.
    Twenty-Third, 119.
    For Confederate Corps, see names of commanders.

  Crane, Lieut. Col. Louis H., at Cedar Mountain, 32;
    killed, 34, 35.

  Crawford, Gen. Samuel W., at Cedar Mountain, 32-34.

  CREEKS--
    Antietam, 51, 63.
    Buffalo, 150.
    Cedar Run, 20, 32, 35.
    Chattanooga, 153.
    Peach Tree, 129.
    Rock, 83, 85, 87.

  Crowninshield, Capt. Francis W., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Culpeper (Va.), 37, 38.

  Culpeper Court House (Va.), 32, 46.

  Cumberland (Md.), 82.

  Cutter, Lieut. George H., of Third Wisconsin, 180.


  Dallas, (Ga.), 122. See also Battles.

  Daniels, Capt. Nahum, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Darnestown (Md.), 11, 47.

  Davis, Col. ----, killed, 79.

  Davis, Jefferson, 166;
    surrenders, 174.

  Dayton (Ohio), 98.

  Donnelly, Col. Dudley, commands brigade, 24, 26.

  Douglas, Stephen A., presidential candidate, 151.

  Du Bois, Lieut. John B., of Third Wisconsin, 180.


  Edwards Ferry (Md.), crossed, 47.

  Englishmen, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.

  Erie (Pa.), 7.


  Fairfax Station (Va.), winter camp at, 64.

  Falling Waters (Md.), 90.

  Fayetteville (Tenn.), 108, 111, 112, 114, 115, 120;
    county seat, 105.

  Fayetteville (N. C.), 171, 172.

  Fond du Lac (Wis.), 5, 6.

  FORDS--
    Beverly, 40;
      crossed, 79, 80.
    Germanna, skirmish at, 66-69.
    Kelly's, crossed, 66.
    Raccoon, 96.
    United States, 69.

  FORTS--
    Donelson, 14.
    Henry, 14.
    McHenry, 11.
    Sumter, surrenders, 3.

  Fox, Adj. John A., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Francis, Maj. James, of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Franklin, Gen. William B., at Harpers Ferry, 52;
    Antietam, 62.

  Frederick City (Md.), 12, 14, 47-49;
    capital, 11;
    cemetery at, 13.

  Fredericksburg (Va.), skirmish at, 70.

  Freeman, Lieut. William W., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Fremont, Gen. John C., 29.

  French, in Wisconsin regiment, 143; in Mexico, 180, 181.

  Fritchie, Barbara, displays flag, 48, 49.

  Front Royal (Va.), 22, 29, 30.

  Furlong, John, killed, 161.


  GAPS--
    Chester, 30.
    Snake Creek, 117.
    Snicker's, 18.

  Gardner, Capt. Silas E., investigates murder, 115.

  Geary, Gen. John W., 148;
    at Bolivar Heights, 12;
    Chancellorsville, 73;
    Gettysburg, 89;
    New Hope Church, 122.

  Georgetown (Md.), 45.

  Georgia, 96, 115, 149;
    secession, 151;
    regiment from, 121;
    campaign in, 173;
    restored, 152.

  Georgia Central Railroad, destroyed, 151.

  Germans, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.

  Giddings, Capt. Ephraim, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Goldsboro (N. C.), 171;
    occupied, 173.

  Goodrich, Lieut. John D., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Gordon, Col. George H., commands brigade, 18, 24.

  Graham Station (S. C.), 168, 169.

  Grant, Gen. Ulysses S., 14, 176.

  Greene, Gen. George S., at Gettysburg, 86.


  Hagerstown (Md.), 8.

  Hamilton, Gen. Charles S., commands brigade, 18.

  Hanging Rock (S. C.), 171.

  Harpers Ferry (Va.), 9, 10, 62, 63, 91;
    expedition to, 12;
    surrenders, 52.

  Harrisonburg (Va.), 21.

  Haskins, Capt. Alexander D., of Third Wisconsin, 180;
    at Robertsville, 167.

  Hawes, Q. M. Edwin A., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Hawley, Gen. William, 115;
    wounded, 34;
    commands brigade, 168, 180;
    at New Hope Church, 124, 125;
    Atlanta, 131;
    Savannah, 160, 161;
    in Carolina campaign, 169;
    farewell order, 177.

  Hazel Grove (Va.), skirmish at, 70, 74.

  Hegg, Lieut. Oliver A., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Heintzelman, Gen. Samuel P., commands corps, 42.

  Hill, Lieut. Algie S., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Hinckley, Capt. Julian W., 180;
    early life, 1;
    promoted, 5, 16, 64;
    wounded, 124-127.

  Hood, Gen. John B., 152;
    at New Hope Church, 122;
    Peach
    Tree Creek, 129;
    Atlanta, 138, 139, 142;
    Jonesboro, 141;
    in Nashville campaign, 143, 146, 147.

  Hooker, Gen. Joseph, commands army, 64;
    corps, 115;
    superseded, 82;
    at Antietam, 52, 57;
    Chancellorsville, 69, 70, 76;
    Chattanooga, 100;
    New Hope Church, 125;
    resigns, 134, 135;
    characterized, 133-135, 140.

  Howard, Gen. Oliver O., 117;
    commands army wing, 147;
    Army of Tennessee, 133, 134.

  Hubbell, Lieut. Abner, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Hunter, Capt. James W., wounded, 126, 127;
    death, 128.


  Ijamsville (Md.), 47.

  Indiana, 98;
    Twenty-Seventh Regiment, 24, 25;
    at Antietam, 55, 57, 61;
    Chancellorsville, 75.

  Indianapolis (Ind.), 98.

  Irish, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.

  ISLANDS--
    Argyle, 157;
      described, 156.
    Hutchinson, 164, 166.
    Johnson's, military prison on, 108.


  Jackson, Gen. Thomas J. (Stonewall), 17, 20-22;
    at Kernstown, 19;
    Chancellorsville, 71, 74;
    killed, 73.

  Jefferson, Thomas, cited, 11.

  Jefferson Rock (Va.), visited, 10.

  Johnson, Andrew, 175.

  Johnson, Hon. Herschel V., sketch, 151, 152.

  Johnston, Gen. Joseph E., superseded, 129;
    at Bentonville, 172;
    surrenders, 114, 173, 174, 176.

  Jonesboro (Ga.), 141, 143.

  Juarez, Benito P., service with, 181.


  Keedysville (Md.), 50.

  Kelly's Ferry (Tenn.), 101.

  Kelly's Ferry (Va.), 92, 96.

  Kernstown (Va.), skirmish at, 19.

  Ketcham, Col. John H., assesses damages, 106.

  Kettle Run (Va.), 43;
    skirmish at, 42.

  Kilpatrick, Gen. Hugh J., at Falling Waters, 90;
    skirmish, 172.

  Kingston (Ga.), 127.

  Kleven, Capt. John E., 180;
    at Monteith Swamp, 154.

  Kopff, Asst. Surg. Thomas, of Third Wisconsin, 180.


  Lee, Gen. Robert E., 96, 97;
    at Rappahannock River, 39;
    Richmond, 171;
    surrenders, 173, 176.

  Leesburg (Va.), executions at, 81.

  Lewis, Gov. James T., 120.

  Libby prison, 29.

  Lieurance, Lieut. Stephen, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Limbocker, Capt. George W., 25, 26.

  Lincoln, President Abraham, 166;
    call for troops, 3;
    at Maryland Heights, 63;
    pardons, 109;
    appoints Howard, 134;
    votes for, 146;
    assassinated, 175.

  Lincoln County (Tenn.), 105;
    guerrillas in, 106, 114;
    reorganized, 109-111.

  Little Round Top (Pa.), 84. See also Battles: Gettysburg.

  Little Washington (Va.), 31.

  Losses: at Bolivar Heights, 13;
    Winchester, 19, 20;
    in retreat to Martinsburg, 29;
    Cedar Mountain, 34-36;
    Antietam, 60-63;
    Gettysburg, 89;
    New Hope Church, 126;
    Peach Tree Creek, 129, 134, 135.

  Louisville (Ky.), 98, 145, 180.

  Lynchburg (Tenn.), birthplace of David Crockett, 105.


  McAlpine, Lieut. William T., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  McClellan, Gen. George B., 15, 47;
    arrests legislature, 11;
    retreats, 39;
    reappointed, 46;
    removed, 64;
    votes for, 146.

  McDowell, Gen. Irvin, commands corps, 30;
    at Cedar Mountain, 36;
    criticized, 38;
    removed, 46.

  McIntyre, Capt. James B., mustering officer, 6.

  Macon (Ga.), march toward, 147.

  Macon Railroad, captured, 141.

  McPherson, Gen. James B., killed, 133.

  Madison (Ga.), 148.

  Madison (Wis.), 4, 104, 120;
    veterans at, 105.

  Maine, Tenth Regiment, at Cedar Mountain, 35.

  Manassas Junction (Va.), 18, 41, 81. See also Battles.

  Mansfield, Gen. Joseph K., commands corps, 47.

  Marietta (Ga.), 122.

  Marvin, Q. M. Joseph T., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Martinsburg (W. Va.), retreat to, 27;
    confederates at, 81.

  Maryland, legislature arrested, 11;
    Lee enters, 47;
    plundered, 51.

  Maryland Heights (Md.), 10;
    Lincoln at, 63.

  Massachusetts, Second Regiment, 18, 25, 77, 78;
    letter of, 177-179;
    letter to, 179;
    at Antietam, 55, 61;
    Germanna Ford, 69;
    Raccoon Ford, 96;
    Atlanta, 136;
    in South Carolina, 162, 168;
    Twelfth Regiment, at Bolivar Heights, 12.

  Meade, Gen. George G., commands Army of Potomac, 82.

  Mehan, Capt. Dennis, of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  "Merrimac," Third Wisconsin embarks on, 93.

  Mexico, 180, 181.

  Michigan, First Cavalry, 27.

  Middleton (Md.), 50.

  Miles, Col. Dixon S., surrenders Harpers Ferry, 52.

  Milledgeville (Ga.), 150;
    capital city, 148;
    arsenal destroyed at, 149.

  Millen (Ga.), railroad destroyed, 153.

  Millen & Augusta Railroad, destroyed, 153.

  Miller, ----, captured, 108.

  Miller, Mrs. ----, secures aid, 108.

  "Mississippi," Third Wisconsin embarks on, 95.

  Monroe (Wis.), 120.

  Monteith Station (Ga.), mail captured, at, 154.

  Montgomery (Ala.), confederate capital, 1.

  Moran, Lieut. Edward V., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Morehead City (N. C.), 175.

  Morse, Lieut. Col. Charles F., of Second Massachusetts, 179;
    at Atlanta, 136.

  MOUNTAINS--
    Blue Ridge, 18, 30, 92.
    Catoctin, 49;
      skirmish at, 48;
      crossed, 50.
    Cedar, 32.
    Lookout, 101.
    South, crossed, 50.

  Mulberry (Tenn.), 105.

  Munn, Surg. Curtis E., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Murfreesboro (Tenn.), 99.


  Nashville (Tenn.), 98, 99;
    military governor at, 109.

  Nashville & Chattanooga Railroad, described, 99.

  New Jersey, Thirteenth Regiment, 96;
    transferred, 47;
    at Chancellorsville, 73;
    Atlanta, 133, 135.

  New Market (Va.), manoeuver at, 21.

  New York (City), 65, 92, 95, 175;
    draft riot, 93.

  New York (State), draft riot, 94;
    regiment, deserters executed, 81;
    First Artillery, at Gettysburg, 87;
      Savannah, 157;
    Ninth Regiment, transferred, 18;
    Twenty-Eighth Regiment, 23;
    One Hundred Seventh Regiment, transferred, 47;
      at Milledgeville, 148;
    One Hundred Forty-Fifth Regiment, 103;
    One Hundred Fiftieth Regiment, 106, 130.

  Nickajack Pass (Ga.), crossed, 116.

  North Carolina, described, 176.

  Norwegians, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.


  Oakey, Capt. Daniel A., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  O'Brien, Capt. Moses, killed, 35, 36.

  Ohio, trip through, 98.

  Orton, Capt. Thomas E., wounded, 132.


  "Paint Rock", captured steamer, 100.

  Parker, Capt. Theodore K., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Parkersburg (W. Va.), 180.

  Parks, Maj. Warham, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Pennsylvania, invaded, 81, 91, 93;
    Twenty-Eighth Regiment, at Bolivar Heights, 12;
    Twenty-Ninth Regiment, retreats, 24;
      officers discharged, 128.

  Perkins, Capt. William E., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Persons, Surg. Horace T., of First Wisconsin Cavalry, 127.

  Phalen, Capt. Edward A., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Pickett, Gen. George E., charge at Gettysburg, 88, 89.

  Pope, Gen. John, commands army, 30;
    criticized, 31, 37, 38;
    retreats, 38;
    at Manassas, 43;
    removed, 46.

  Portage County (Wis.), 1.

  Porter, Gen. Fitz John, commands corps, 42.

  Price, Col. Edward L., court martialed, 103.

  PRISONS--
    Fort McHenry, 11.
    Johnson's Island, 109.
    Libby, 29.

  Proctor, Lieut. Edwin F., of Third Wisconsin, 180.


  Raleigh (N. C.), campaign, 114, 173.

  Rappahannock Station (Va.), 92.

  "Red Star" Division, guards railroad track, 99.

  Resaca (Ga.), enemy abandon, 122.

  "Resolute", armed tender, captured, 157, 158.

  Richardson, Lieut. Moses P., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Richardson, Lieut. Jesse, of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Richmond (Va.), campaign against, 117;
    Lee at, 171;
    Union army, 176.

  RIVERS--
    Cape Fear, 171.
    Chattahoochee, 128, 137-139;
      crossed, 129.
    Elk, 106.
    Etowah, crossed, 122.
    Monocacy, enemy at, 48.
    Oconee, 148.
    Ohio, 180;
      crossed, 98.
    Potomac, 93, 174;
      crossed, 28, 45, 81.
    Rapidan, 37, 66, 96.
    Rappahannock, 92;
      crossed, 38, 40, 41, 66, 69, 79.
    Rio Grande, 174.
    Saluda, crossed, 170.
    Savannah, 167;
      naval battle in, 155-157;
      described, 156;
      cleared, 165;
      crossed, 166.
    Shenandoah, 21.
    Tennessee, 100, 101;
      crossed, 116.

  Robertsville (S. C.), skirmish at, 107.

  Rocky Mount (S. C.), 170.

  Ruger, Gen. Thomas H., West Point graduate, 5;
    at Cedar Mountain, 32;
    Chancellorsville, 75;
    commands expedition, 92;
    brigade, 115.

  Ruger, Capt. William, wounded, 126, 127.


  Sandersville (Ga.), plundered, 150;
    skirmish at, 151.

  Sandy Hook (Md.), 10, 15.

  Savannah (Ga.), 146, 150, 152, 153, 156, 158, 173;
    Sherman at, 155, 163, 169;
    skirmish, 162;
    evacuated, 161, 162, 164-166.

  Schweers, Capt. John M., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Scotch, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.

  Scott, Lieut. Col. John W., wounded, 34;
    killed, 70.

  Secession, conventions, 1;
    in Georgia, 151;
    Lincoln County, 106;
    Maryland, 11;
    South Carolina, 2, 146.

  Sedgwick, Gen. John, at Antietam, 58, 59;
    Fredericksburg, 76.

  Seminary Ridge (Pa.), 89. See also Battles: Gettysburg.

  Shelbyville (Tenn.), 99, 108.

  Shenandoah Valley, campaign in, 178.

  Sherman, Gen. William T., 169;
    Georgia campaign, 143, 147, 149, 163;
    Carolina campaign, 176;
    at New Hope Church, 125;
    Atlanta, 116, 139, 143, 144;
    Jonesboro, 141;
    Milledgeville, 150;
    Savannah, 155, 165;
    Sister's Ferry, 167;
    announces peace, 173, 174;
    grand review, 177;
    characterized, 134, 164.

  Shields, Gen. James, 29;
    at Kernstown, 19, 20;
    wounded, 18.

  Sigel, Gen. Franz, commands corps, 30;
    at Cedar Mountain, 36, 37.

  Sister's Ferry (S. C.), Sherman at, 167.

  Slocum, Gen. Henry W., at Germanna Ford, 68;
    Vicksburg, 115;
    Graham Station, 168;
    commands corps, 139;
    army wing, 147;
    on "Sherman's March", 169;
    characterized, 140.

  Smith, Maj. Alfred B., commands brigade picket line, 130.

  Smith Plantation, in South Carolina, 158-161.

  South Carolina, secedes, 2;
    begins war, 146;
    campaign in, 158, 164, 166, 167, 170.

  Springer, Rev. Isaac E., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Springer, Rev. John M., killed, 120.

  Springfield (Ga.), 153.

  Spott Tavern (Va.), 79.

  Stafford Court House (Va.), 77, 92;
    winter camp, 64, 66.

  Stanton, Edwin M., 175.

  Stevenson, Lieut. Col. George W., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Stevenson (Ala.), 99.

  Strasburg (Va.), 17, 20, 21.

  Strawberry Plains (Tenn.), 153.

  Stuart, Gen. James E. B., headquarters captured, 80.

  Sumner, Gen. Edwin V., at Antietam, 57-59.


  Tattnall, Commodore Josiah, commands fleet, 157.

  Taylor, Adj. Asher C., of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Tennalleytown (D. C.), Army of Potomac at, 46.

  Tennessee, 115;
    Union Cavalry Regiment, 113, 114.

  Tennille Station (Ga.), railroad buildings destroyed, 151.

  Thayer, Capt. George A., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Thomas, Gen. George H., at Somerset, 14;
    New Hope Church, 125;
    disapproves resignations, 128;
    opposes Hood, 147.

  Thompson, Lieut. George J., of Second Massachusetts, 168, 179.

  Thompson, Lieut. Jed C., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Toledo (Ohio), 7.

  Toombs, Lieut. William D., of Second Massachusetts, 179.

  Tullahoma (Tenn.), 102, 103, 105, 114, 115;
    corps headquarters, 108, 113.

  Two Taverns (Pa.), 82.


  Van Brunt, Capt. Ralph, of Third Wisconsin, 180.

  Vermont, First Regiment, rear guard, 27.

  Vicksburg (Miss.), 115.

  Virginia, departure for, 7.


  Warrenton Junction (Va.), 41, 42.

  Wartrace (Tenn.), 99, 100.

  Washington (D. C.), 41, 47, 65, 98, 108, 128;
    Army of Potomac in, 46;
    threatened, 93;
    peace ratified at, 174;
    march to, 176;
    grand review, 177.

  Waupun (Wis.), campaign of 1860 at, 1;
    Light Guard, organized, 3-5.

  Welsh, in Wisconsin regiment, 143.

  West Point (N. Y.), Military Academy, graduates, 5.

  Wheeler, Gen. Joseph, 99, 159;
    at Sandersville, 151;
    at Robertsville, 167.

  Whittier, John G., poem, 49.

  Williams, Gen. Alpheus S., 115, 117;
    at Cedar Mountain, 32;
    New Hope Church, 125.

  Williamsport (Md.), 28, 29;
    Confederates at, 81, 89, 90.

  Williamsport (Pa.), reception at, 8.

  Wilkins, Capt. William D., 20;
    at Cedar Mountain, 32, 33, 37.

  Wilmington (N. C.), fleet at, 171.

  Winchester (Va.), 20, 29;
    skirmish at, 16;
    captured, 17;
    retreat to, 22;
    threatened, 30;
    Confederates at, 81.

  Winegar, Capt. Charles E., captures steamer, 157.

  Winnsboro (S. C.), railroad track destroyed, 170.

  Wisconsin, 128;
    quota filled, 4;
    Tenth Regiment, at Chattanooga, 100.

  Woodford, Capt. Jasper, of Third Wisconsin, 169, 180.


  Xenia (Ohio), reception at, 98.




PUBLICATIONS OF WISCONSIN HISTORY COMMISSION

_Series of Original Narratives_


1. A VIEW OF THE VICKSBURG CAMPAIGN. By William Freeman Vilas, LL. D.,
Lieutenant-Colonel of Twenty-Third Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry. With
two appendices: I, Wisconsin Soldiers in the Vicksburg Campaign, by
Colonel Vilas; II, Selected Bibliography of the Vicksburg Campaign
(material thereon in the Wisconsin Historical Library), by Minnie Myrtle
Oakley. Illustrated by a portrait of Colonel Vilas and a map of the
campaign. 8vo., pp. xiii+104. Published August, 1908.

2. CAPTURE AND ESCAPE: A NARRATIVE OF ARMY AND PRISON LIFE. By John Azor
Kellogg, Colonel of Sixth Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry and Brevet
Brigadier-General. Illustrated by a portrait of the author. 8vo., pp.
xvi+201. Published November, 1908.

3. THREE WISCONSIN CUSHINGS: A SKETCH OF THE LIVES OF HOWARD B., ALONZO
H., AND WILLIAM B. CUSHING, CHILDREN OF A PIONEER FAMILY OF WAUKESHA
COUNTY. By Theron Wilber Haight, First-Lieutenant, U. S. V. Illustrated
by a wartime group of officers, three portraits, and three facsimiles.
8vo., pp. xiv+109. Index. Published April, 1910.

4. THE CHATTANOOGA CAMPAIGN: WITH ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO WISCONSIN'S
PARTICIPATION THEREIN. By Michael Hendrick Fitch, Lieutenant-Colonel of
Twenty-first Wisconsin Infantry. Illustrated by six maps. 8vo., pp.
xiii+255. Index. Published March, 1911.

5. A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF WISCONSIN'S PARTICIPATION IN THE WAR BETWEEN THE
STATES: BASED ON MATERIAL IN THE WISCONSIN HISTORICAL LIBRARY. By Isaac
Samuel Bradley, Assistant Superintendent of said Library. 8vo., pp.
ix+42. Index. Published May, 1911.

6. WISCONSIN WOMEN IN THE WAR BETWEEN THE STATES. By Ethel Alice Hurn,
B. A. Illustrated by a portrait and six views. 8vo., pp. xix+190. Index.
Published May, 1911.

7. A NARRATIVE OF SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY. By Julian
Wisner Hinkley, sometime acting Major of said Regiment. Illustrated by a
portrait of the author. 8vo., pp. xiii+197. Index. Published November,
1912.

8. THE DIARY OF AN ARTILLERY PRIVATE. By Rev. Jenkin Lloyd-Jones. _In
preparation._


_Series of Reprints_

1. THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. By Frank Aretas Haskell, Colonel of
Thirty-sixth Wisconsin Infantry. Illustrated by a portrait of the author
and two maps. 8vo. First edition: pp. xxiii+185; published November,
1908. Second edition (with "Tribute to Adjutant Haskell" by Col. J. A.
Watrous): pp. xxviii+192; Index; published April, 1910.

2. CIVIL WAR MESSAGES AND PROCLAMATIONS OF WISCONSIN WAR GOVERNORS. With
explanatory notes by Asa C. Tilton and Frederick Merk, of the staff of
the Wisconsin Historical Library. _In press._




       *       *       *       *       *




Transcriber's note:

Archaic and variable spellings such as "rendevouz", "reconnoissance"
and "reenforce" were retained.

The book title on page 1 of the original reads "SERVICE IN" but
elsewhere reads "A NARRATIVE OF SERVICE WITH THE THIRD WISCONSIN INFANTRY".

Page 131, "The next day a battery of twenty-pound parrot guns was planted
on the hill ..." Changed to "Parrott guns".

Only Footnote 3 on page 180 and the index give spelling as Hinckley;
elsewhere Hinkley.



***