Advance to Virginia

Introduction

     A jealous rivalry between the Boston companies [Fourth Battalion of Rifles] and the country companies sprang up in the regiment during the early days of service.  A local woman near Hancock, Maryland, asked some of the soldiers marching through, "What regiment are you, and where are you from ?"  "Four companies from Boston and the rest from Massachusetts," was the reply.  The boys from the country towns named this conceit 'Fourth Battalion Fever."

     When the Union troops advanced into Martinsburg, Virginia, March 1st, 1862, Company K took the lead for the 13th Mass.  According to soldier Austin Stearns, members of Company A, made such a fuss about this choice, that they were given leave to circle the town and pick up any suspicious characters that might be lurking about at that late hour.  Company K, entered the town at midnight from the north, the first Union troops to arrive.  They stacked arms near the courthouse.  Edwin Rice states a lieutenant of the 1st Maryland Cavalry, seeking lodgings for his horse, was confronted by Company A, entering the town from the south.  Company A, entered the town shooting, mistaking the officer for a rebel cavalryman trying to escape. A brief panic errupted as a result, with all parties suspecting the enemy was still present in town.  Order in the ranks was quickly restored before anyone was hurt.  Thereafter whenever Fourth Battalion Fever began to rage among the Boston boys, someone would shout out "Who took Martinsburg ?"  "Company A," was the reply;  -given with feeling.

     From Martinsburg the regiment advanced south first to Bunker Hill, where they waited a few days for more troops to arrive, then, on to Winchester, hotbed of rebellion.  The 13th regiment again led the advance, certain they would meet strong resistance. They breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon discovering the rebels had evacuated the town for points farther south.

     Chaplain Noah Gaylord took advantage of his surroundings by preaching a 'rattling sermon' on the evils of secession from the courthouse steps. At Winchester, members of Company D, fixed up an old switching engine, the only 'operable' engine among the ruins of the Winchester & Potomac railroad equipment destroyed by retreating Confederates.  This sluggish iron-horse took a memorable ride up to Halltown, near Harper's Ferry, for supplies.  Clarence Bell's reminiscence, "How We Opened the Railroad" recalls the adventure. Many other stories are recounted herein.  

     On March 18th, 1862, the regiment was assigned to the brigade of General John J. Abercrombie and departed from Banks' army.  But, this was also the beginning of their long association with the '9th New York' and the 12th Massachusetts Regiments.  An association that lasted more than two years.

     Regimental Historian, Charles E. Davis, Jr. is strong in his coverage of this part of the 13th's history.  His customary wit and commentary shines through in every word, so I will quote liberally from his text.

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The Advance

     Company K, was raised in Westboro, Mass.  Captain Charles Hovey, of Boston, originally First-Lieutenant of Company D was promoted captain of the company after Captain William Blackmer resigned.  In a letter to the selectmen of the home-town, Capt. Hovey, who was not known there, announces the long awaited forward movement.

Westboro Transcript; Letter from Captain Charles Hovey

From the Regimental History "Three Years in the Army," by Charles E. Davis, Jr.

Saturday, March 1. 
     Having said the last “good-by” to our friends across the river we took up the line of march, about dusk, for Martinsburg, twelve miles, which point we reached a little before midnight.

     During our stay in Williamsport we had accumulated more things than were necessary for our comfort, as we became painfully aware of before our journey’s end.  We were now on the “sacred soil” of Virginia.  Whether it is better than any other soil could not be determined in the darkness; up to this time our knowledge of it was limited to the experience at Harper’s Ferry, the skirmish at Bolivar Heights, and the reconnoissances from Hancock and Sir John’s Run, so we were not experts on the subject.

     The Sixteenth Indiana, a company of cavalry and two pieces of artillery, crossed the river and followed us to Martinsburg.

     While marching in Maryland we felt secure from rebel interference when falling out, overcome with fatigue or the heat of the sun, but now we were likely at any moment to hear the unwelcome sound of the enemy’s musketry.  A man must hesitate, therefore, before he separated himself from his regiment.  As it was dark we had plenty of opportunity to reflect on what might be our reception by the “F.F.V’s” of Martinsburg. They might find some objection to our entering town without paying a toll – the toll that some of us must pay before our three years were up.

     Company A was well ahead as advance guard, and as long as we heard nothing from them our minds remained at ease except when we thought of our knapsacks, which had increased in size, like the national debt.

     It appears that when Company A arrived within half a mile of the town it left the road, making a detour and entering it from the south on the Winchester road, while the regiment entered it from the north.  The quartermaster, or some other officer, rode forward from the regiment to overtake Company A.  As he entered from the north the company was entering from the south.  Each mistook the other. Company A supposed him to be a rebel picket endeavoring to escape out of town and fired, whereupon, supposing it to be the fire of the enemy, he turned about in great haste and road back to the regiment. For a few moments there was considerable confusion, but the officer in command stopped the firing until he could ascertain the facts, which were soon learned, and quiet restored. As no one was hurt it ended in a good laugh, though it has never been settled as to “who took Martinsburg.”

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Who Took Martinsburg ?

Sketch of the Martinsburg Square with the Courthouse to the right, by Alfred Waud;, Dec. 1864; 
(slightly modified)

From "Three Years with Company K"; 1976 Fairleigh-Dickenson Press; P. 46-48. Used with permission.

Austin Stearns writes:

     We were all day crossing the river, having only one flat-boat to cross on.  We were all feeling good that at last the time had come and we were on the “soil of old Virginia.”  When Company K crossed, we were marched up the hill about half a mile in advance of the regiment, and at night when all were over, we kept the advance toward Martinsburg.  Report says that there was considerable feeling shown by some of the companies because K company had the right. Let that be as it may, we held on our way and were the first in Martinsburg.  When within two miles, to appease Company A, it was sent around with a guide on another road, to come in and so bag all the rebs that should be caught out at that late hour of the night.

     We reached Martinsburg about midnight, and were marched up to the center of the place, where we halted beside the Court House. We stacked arms, with orders not to leave the immediate stacks. Being [that] most of the boys sat down on the sidewalk, I leaned back against the house and was soon asleep, but was quickly awakened by the sound of Muskets being fired.  “Fall in K,” said Captain Hovey as calmly as on drill. Every man was soon in his place awaiting events.  It was soon explained: the advance guard of Co. A just then coming in heard us and, without enquiring, fired. They thought they were the first in the place, and that we were rebels, [but] they soon found out their mistake.  For a long time after, when Co. A was having the “Fourth Batt” fever, someone would say “Who took Martinsburg?”  Another would reply “Co. A,” and this would generally reduce the fever.

Letter of John B. Noyes; The Advance to Martinsburg

John B. Noyes of Company B gives a vivid description of the river crossing and march to Martinsburg.  The events described correspond exactly with the Frank Leslie's illustration at the top of this page. The date he refers to in the first line of the letter is March 2nd, 1862; his 24th birthday.

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Letter of Warren H. Freeman; March 3rd, 1862

Freeman of Company A gives his account of the march to Martinsburg, but omits the incident, the firing by 'Company A' men, that created a brief panic among the troops.

Letter of Edwin Rice; March 4th 1862

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Description of the Town of Martinsburg

Three Years in the Army, continued:

 After the regiment entered the town the band played “Yanked Doodle,”  “Glory Hallelujah,” “Red, White, and Blue,” and other patriotic airs for the benefit of those benighted citizens who preferred the secesh song, “Maryland, My Maryland,” which we heard so frequently sung during the winter.

     …A good many of the houses in the town were found to be empty, the occupants having fled to parts unknown, whereupon we took possession of them for quarters and proceeded to make ourselves comfortable.

     Company B, with a company from the Twelfth Indiana, was detailed for provost duty.

It snowed hard in the afternoon, turning to rain before night.  A good New England Day.  We found the population of Martinsburg to be five or six thousand inhabitants, and an important station on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad. On receiving information of our approach the enemy destroyed forty-eight locomotive engines, and the debris thereof was indeed a sight to see.

 Martinsburg was the residence of Mr. Faulkner, a man who had previously been distinguished by an appointment as Minister to France. His family having little faith in Yankee soldiers, requested a guard for the protection of themselves and their property, and certain men of our regiment were detailed for the purpose. When the time came for cooking coffee, request was made for privileges to use the kitchen stove, but it was refused. The Union must be preserved and soldiers must have their coffee.  The words “poltroons” and “cowards” and “vulgar Yankees” are not pleasant words to hear, even when uttered by a pretty woman. In this case they were spoken in French, whereupon one of the boys informed madam that he also spoke that language, which information so astonished her that she was glad to retire to the privacy of the upper rooms, leaving the “vulgar Yankees” in possession of the lower floor. The boys proceeded without further delay to cook their coffee and to use the old man’s library for their mental sustenance. Good books, good coffee, and a well-filled pipe will broaden the mind of a solder so as to make him capable of swallowing a good deal of abuse.

     The feeling against the Union was very bitter in this town, as was expected it would be. The sentiment was not unanimous, however.  We were made pretty well acquainted with the sentiments of the people through two boys from this town who had enlisted as drummers in the Thirteenth, and who proved themselves to be good soldiers.  Their escape from Martinsburg and joining us at Williamsport, together with the sufferings of their family for maintaining Union sentiments, would make a thrilling story if published.  (Davis is referencing his friends, Sam and Isaac Webster, of Martinsburg).

Three Years With Company K
by Sergeant Austin C. Stearns; edited by Arthur Kent. (P. 56).

     Our stay at Martinsburg was about a week. K Company went out on picket about a mile on the Winchester Pike; the snow was between two and three inches deep.  While here we made our headquarters at a farmhouse.  We talked with the lady of the house, who was quite talkative, [and] she had two sons in the Confederate service. One was with Jackson when he made his winter raid to Hancock.  Some of the boys in speaking of the cold said “Jackson had two or three men froze to death up there.”  “Oh no,” said the old lady “not froze to death but perished with the cold.”  We failed to see any great difference between freezing and perishing. 

Westboro Transcript, March 22, 1862; Letter from Captain Charles Hovey

      Captain Charles Hovey who took command of Company K during the winter, writes a letter to the town selectmen about the character of the Westboro men.  In the letter he writes of arrangements made with Adam's Express Company to ship bodies home in the event of any deaths in the company.  He would be utilizing these services much sooner than he would have thought.

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"F.F.V's."

Three Years in the Army, (continued).

Monday, March 3.
     Washing-day. A soldiers’ washing-day is any day; some day when he couldn’t stand it any longer, or when he became convinced that “dirt is something in the wrong place.”  The colonel had us out this afternoon on battalion drill, in the mud, to show the “F.F.V’s” what a Massachusetts regiment could do; and a goodly sight it is to see, when the regiment is well drilled. The colonel enjoyed it more than we did.

     General Williams assumed command of the brigade to-day.  Troops are arriving daily and molasses is $1.75 per gallon.

     We were anxious at this time to see a regular thoroughbred “F.F.V.,” about whom we had heard so much. Therefore some watched while others preyed, and those who preyed submitted samples of their success for judgment. They were complimented for their earnestness, but informed that the “First Families of Virginia” did not have feathers. They bore their disappointment with the tranquility which possesses a man who has breakfasted on broiled chicken. In these searches for “Full Feathered Virginians” the boys declared that they always met an officer’s servant at the same coop.

CHICKEN STEW

CLARENCE H.BELL.
Boston, February, 1883.

     February 22, 1862, [March 1, 1862] the Thirteenth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers crossed the Potomac, at Williamsport, Md., and that same evening [March 2nd] entered Martinsburg, Va.  For many days after the weather was unpleasant, and the town rapidly filled up with the troops of General Banks’ Division.

     No attempt was made to form regular camps, as further progress to Winchester was contemplated, so the troops were quartered in abandoned houses, or any shelter immediately available.

     A party of about ten members of Company D; of the 13th, was quartered in a school-house near the outskirts of the village. It was a frame structure, consisting of one room, devoid of furniture of any kind, but in good condition, with a large open fire-place at the farther end. Taking into consideration the week of stormy weather, and the alternative of pitching tents in water-soaked fields; the school-house was a marvel of comfort to the weary volunteers, and we thoroughly appreciated it when returning from picket or guard duty; we lifted the latch and entered the room, brilliantly lighted by a glowing fire on the hearth, to take our places within the circle of its radiance.

     Now, it happened, that among the rations issued to us during our stay at Martinsburg, was a quantity of rice, and as we sat about the fire enjoying our frugal repast of black coffee and “hard-tack,” the question of what to do with the rice was discussed. It seemed to be a foregone conclusion that a “plain boiled” was the limit of our capabilities in the culinary way; when one brilliant comrade, with a hankering after the possibilities of civilized diet, proposed “chicken stew.”  Of course the proposition was quite satisfactory, but difficulties attended its accomplishment, and we were rather astonished at the audacity of thus tantalizing our greedy appetites.  But it seemed that the comrade knew whereof he spoke, for in his wanderings in the suburbs thereabouts he had discovered signs of feathered life, which had escaped the depredations of the Confederates who had occupied the town all winter.  The proposition was unanimously accepted and the recommendation adopted, and there-upon the squad resolved itself into a series of “committees,” to wit:

     Committee to decoy the hens.  This of course consisted of the one whose observant eye had noted the abiding place of the poultry, and an assistant, to help with advice and strategy. This committee dispatched its duties and the hens with celerity and neatness.  Their midnight adventures were quite thrilling, and afforded us much entertainment afterwards.  – in sooth, they never showed the “white feather,” but carefully burned the non-essentials to the “stew.”

     The second committee was that to procure the fuel with which to cook the aforesaid stew, and consisted of a majority of the sojourners in the little school-house.  They were a conscientious group, and refrained from depredating on any neighboring wood-pile or fences – perhaps from lack of opportunity – but found a large pile of abandoned ties near a small cottage close to the railroad.  They construed this to be as near like public property as anything for fuel in that locality could be, and helped themselves quite liberally, making several trips to that pile in the early dawn.

     The third committee was composed of two to do the cooking, and were selected because of their well-known ability to concoct a savory mess, even with a dearth of ingredients.

     The fourth committee was that to chop the wood, and consisted of one city-bred boy unaccustomed to the use of an axe, but with a will to do his share to make the undertaking a success.  A scriptural phrase says: “that a man was famous as he had lifted up the axe against the thick trees.”  According to this light, this was “a youth to fortunes and to fame unknown.”  His task was not so exciting as some of the others, but it was arduous enough to compensate for the lack of peril attending its execution. The ties were of oak, quite tough, with an occasional spike to interfere with the working of the axe. However, this young man persevered in the work, and, after half an hour’s perspiring labor, he had quite a pile of handy chunks to put under the pot. The chopper rested from his labors for a short time and sat him down on the steps of the school-house, congratulating himself that his task was done, and counting the blisters on his tender palms, ere he carried the wood into house.  While he thus sat, he was astounded at the irruption of a stout Hibernian female, with fire in her eye, and muscle in her arm. 

    Her florid face fairly blazed with indignation, and she was attended by a troop of little ones whose presence evidently encouraged the mother in the encounter.  Her errand was soon made known, for, as she confronted the surprised sitter, she blurted out: “Oi’m a poor, lone woman, wid six children, an’ me husband’s gone off wid Jackson’s min; yees ought ter know betther thin to stale me wud, ye mane thaving Yankee sodjers!”  With that she gathered up all the wood just split, and giving each of the children some to carry, she marched off slowly, yet triumphantly, without the shadow of a remonstrance. In fact, the chopper was dumbfounded, and, for the moment, his organs of speech were annihilated. He would not have stood a ghost of a chance in an encounter with the muscular Confederate war widow, and he breathed quite relieved when she vanished down the street.  The imaginary picture of his head in chancery, receiving the pummeling from the fists of the stalwart washerwoman was rather disheartening to a youth of retiring disposition, especially as a chivalric feeling would not allow of much “hitting back.”  Perhaps he felt a twinge of that “conscience which makes cowards of us all,” for it was very evident that this woman’s husband had endeavored to supply his family with the necessary store of fuel during his absence with Stonewall Jackson’s troops by gathering the refuse ties along the railroad embankment.

The reproaches of his comrades that he had allowed the woman to carry off the wood were more easily borne than the amusement that the incident created, and the recollection of the defeat was a source of annoyance for many weeks.  However, he became fully reconciled to both, when in something more than a year later, he saw a woman of the same nationality successfully broom quite a large detachment of the Army of the Potomac out of her onion patch, at Waterford, Va.  Veterans, flushed with success at Gettysburg, fled ignominiously from the resounding whacks of an ancient broom vigorously wielded by one resolute Irish woman.  We can thank our stars that the Confederacy never organized an Amazonian corps.

But to return to the school-house, the chopper essayed again to fulfill his appointed duty, and soon had fuel enough for the emergency.  Wary comrades stood by and hurried each piece into the house, and the woman came not again.  Probably she was satisfied with one victory, and having some chopped wood on hand was compensated for the lost logs.  Possibly she could not borrow so many children for a second raid.

The committee in charge of the cooking did their duty well.  Vegetables we had none; but chicken, rice and water were in abundance, while fragments of “hard-tack” served to give body and bulk to the compound.  We restrained our appetites till later in the evening, to allow every denizen of the school-house to be on hand for the repast.  Each returning prodigal received a whiff of savory odors as he entered the banquet hall, and the last man was greeted with a cordial welcome, as we sat down in circle, a la Turk, with heterogeneous collection of tin dippers, plates and dilapidated tomato cans to receive our share. Jealous eyes watched the impartial distribution, and vigorous spoons scraped the old black kettle raw to obtain the last vestiges of edible matter from its battered sides.  Some one, no doubt, would have “licked the platter clean,” but for the restraints of decency and the imputation of greediness.  Candles in bayonets, stuck in the cracks of the floor, gave light to pick the bones, while busy tongues reeled off stories or songs, giving zest to our appetites.  The episode of the morning served to bring the amateur wood-chopper into prominence as a butt for the shafts of ridicule, but it was given and received good-naturedly.  Supper over, lights were extinguished, and we rolled up in our blankets to enjoy the sleep of the satisfied.

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Advance to Bunker Hill

"Three Years in the Army,"continued:

Wednesday, March 5. 
     With the rest of the brigade we marched to Bunker Hill, ten miles, where we arrived late in the afternoon.  The march was slow, owing to the mud. The soil was not too “sacred” for mud.  Bunker Hill is a small village with scattering houses, one church, and a deserted mill. Two companies, B and C, occupied the church, and company K, the mill.

     In a a report made by General Jackson to Gen. Jos. E. Johnston, March 6, 1862, he says that “Yesterday the enemy advanced from Martinsburg to Bunker Hill. So Leonard, the commander, has effected a junction with Charlestown forces via the Charlestown and Smithfield road. Leonard, before leaving Martinsburg, sent his baggage in the direction of Williamsport. His column was about two miles long, composed of seven regiments of infantry, four companies of cavalry, and probably six pieces of artillery.”  Well informed as he was about our movements, he omitted to mention the articles left behind by the rank and file before we left Martinsburg, though we still had three days’ rations, forty rounds of ammunition, and a gun called the Enfield rifle. On our arrival at Bunker Hill, we found eight rebels in a church, and retained them as prisoner.  This shows how inadvisable it is to go to church on Tuesdays.

     We found at Bunker Hill no monument to mark the place where Warren fell, - probably because he preferred to fall in Massachusetts.

     Charlestown and Bunker Hill!  The Virginians were so bound up in the sacredness of their soil they were unable to appreciate the sacredness attached to these two names.

     A detail of Company D was left behind at Martinsburg to accompany the wagon train.

Letter of Warren H. Freeman, March 7, 1862

Letter of Edwin Rice,13th Mass Band; March 7th 1862

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Preparing to Take Winchester

"Three Years in the Army," continued:

Thursday March 6.
     General Banks paid the brigade visit.  What his presence betokened we were unable to say, though the camp gossips amused themselves by constructing stories that would have honored Munchausen.

     A rebel deserter came into camp to-day, loaded to the muzzle with lies for our digestion. We accepted a good deal of nonsense from these deserters, in our simplicity at this time, that didn’t pass later on. He told great stories about men looking for opportunities to desert; but we didn’t see much of a procession of these fellows, so the war was continued.

Friday, March 7.
     While the regiment was out on battalion drill in the afternoon, word was received that four hundred rebel cavalry were within four miles, whereupon we were double-quicked through the mud, across a brook, and down the road, expecting to have a brush with the “Johnnies.”  Just as we were halted and our guns loaded, we were met by regiments returning; so back through the mud we marched to camp, our feet soaked and our legs covered with “sacred soil.”

     Three men shot on picket through their own carelessness, it is said. Men should never go on picket:  it is dangerous.

     An order was issued to-day for the detail left at Williamsport to report to the regiment. An order was also issued that when men are obliged to fall out on  a march they must be provided with passes.  The nights are so cold, we wondered where the man was who said Virginia was in the tropics.

Letter of Edwin Rice, March 9th 1862

The Advance to Winchester

"Three Years in the Army," continued:

Sunday March 9.
     Strict orders were issued by direction of General Williams that no commissioned officers nor privates are to pass the picket-guard without a written pass.  Wagons not to be sent out without sufficient guard. Guards or detachments with loaded muskets to discharge them between 9 and 10 A.M., at a designated spot. That the safety of the command depends on the observance of this last order.

     Hard bread getting scarce. Flour issued in its place.  Some of the boys clubbed together on drawing their flour, and had it baked into bread by one of the farmers’ wives, paying therefor in coffee, which was rated at $1.50 per pound at the store. What a glorious opportunity for speculation !

Monday, March 10.
     Orders issued to cook three days’ rations. Each officer and soldier to see that everything is in perfect order, with forty rounds of ammunition in the cartridge-boxes, If there were any Quakers in the regiment, it was a good time for them to start for Philadelphia. We expected to march at 10 A.M., but as it rained hard the order was countermanded.  The war was therefore prolonged one day.

Tuesday, March 11.
Marched to Stephenson’s depot, six miles, and bivouacked in the woods about four miles from Winchester. As we marched out of Bunker Hill the usual crowds gathered to see the troops pass along. Among the number was a young man who gave utterance to his rebellious thoughts by irritating remarks as to what we were likely to do on meeting Ashby’s cavalry. When the price of salt is $30.00 per bag, it is not strange that the language of the people should smack of an unusual freshness.

Our march was frequently obstructed by rebel cavalry under Ashby; but no one was hurt, though it looked rather shaky at times.

The great caution that was observed on our march to-day made it late in the afternoon before we went into camp.  Details were made of camp and picket-guard, camp-fires were lit, coffee cooked, and the proper degree of thankfulness expressed by those who escaped guard duty.

     After supper the men gathered round the fires for a smoke and to listen to the gossip of the regiment.  It frequently happens that some one will invent a story, requesting the strictest secrecy, in order that it may travel the faster.  In the course of twenty-four hours or so it will return, not exactly as it went fourth, but so enlarged and exaggerated that you could scarcely recognize the original. Frequent repetitions of this amusement very soon created such disbelief in all camp stories, that it was difficult to get one well started except by the exercise of considerable ingenuity.

Wednesday, March 12.
     The rattle of drums and sweet singing of birds announced that morn was here. The army was to move on Winchester at once, so we hastily cooked our coffee, and as quickly as possible ate our breakfast.  There was no time to spare, as orders to “fall in” were heard in every direction. Orders were received for the Thirteenth to take the advance of the column as skirmishers.  Winchester was four miles away, occupied by 25,000 troops under Stonewall Jackson, and well-fortified by earthworks.  As soon as we were out of the woods the regiment was deployed as skirmishers, and marched in that order in quick time across fields, over fences and stone walls, fording brooks or creeks, preserving distances and line as well as we could under such disadvantages.  The sensations we experienced on this bright, beautiful morning are not likely to be forgotten.  It was very warm, and the march a hard one, because the line was irregularly obstructed. That is to say, while one part would be marching on the smooth surface of the ground, another part might be climbing a fence or wading a brook. To keep the line tolerably straight under such exasperating circumstances was very trying and perspiring work.  In  addition to this we were, for the first time, inline of battle, and in plain sight of the rest of the division, who were watching our movements as they followed in close column.  Situated as we were, there was no opportunity of obeying, without disgrace, those instincts of discretion which are said to be the better part of valor, and which prompt human nature to seek safety in flight. Those of us who omitted to sneak away before the line was formed, but who afterward showed such ingenuity and skill in escaping the dangers of battle, found no chance open for skulking on this occasion. Yes ! like other regiments, we had our percentage of men who dared to run away, that they might live to fight some other, far distant day.  We saw those dreaded earthworks a long time before we reached them, and wondered at the enemy’s silence, but concluded they were reserving their fire until we should be close enough for the greatest execution. Whatever the boys felt, there was no faltering or wavering. Within a short distance of the earthworks we formed in close order, and with a yell and a rush we bounded over them to find, after all our fears and anticipations, they were empty.  We were soon formed in line, and marched in column of companies into town, being the first Union regiment that entered Winchester.  We felt proud enough at our bloodless victory.

     We had hardly entered the main street of the town when General Jackson and Colonel Ashby were discovered on horseback in front of the Taylor House, (pictured) waving an adieu with their hats. An order was immediately given to fire, but we were not quick enough to do them harm or retard their flight. This was a daring thing to do, though common enough with such men as Jackson and Ashby.

     We marched down the main street, the band playing patriotic airs, while the people scanned our appearance to see what a Yankee looked like. Some who were prepared to scoff could get no farther than “How fat they are !”

     After the companies were assigned to quarters the officers met at the Taylor House, and dined on the meal provided for Jackson and his staff.

     The regiment was detailed as provost guard of the town, and proceeded at once to secure quarters in the unoccupied buildings.

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A HOT TIME-WINCHESTER, VA., MARCH, 1862.

Clarence H. Bell.

Companies A & D had the advance of the line entering Winchester.  They would be the first to receive the enemies vollies should there be resistance. Author Clarence Bell, Co. D, offers up this reminiscence of the event.

Read at the reunion of the 13th Mass. Vols., Dec. 13, 1897.

     It was very early in the morning of March 12, 1862, when the Thirteenth Regiment cut loose from its moorings, or rather, not being crafty enough to be nautical, broke bivouac and meandered toward Winchester.  You will notice that I purposely use the word meandered.  I might have said marched, or walked, or "hoofed it," but meandered is such a pleasant word, a sweet morsel under the tongue, that it is a delight to use it and use it right.  It's like wearing a tall hat; you feel that you have got some polish about you, so you throw out your chin and elevate your eyes as if you had strayed into the smart set.  To be sure, at first start it sounds very similar to the persuasive wail of a predatory tom-cat, but we will let that pass.

     I said that it was early in the morning, in fact it was too early.  There always seemed to be some one in authority in our army days who was bent on having us begin the day before sunrise and thus knock us out of from two to ten hours' sleep.  And every one knows that the sleep we do not get is the sweetest, most enjoyable in imagination.  Many an angelic disposition has been ruined by the loss of early morning sleep.  I have been affected that way myself and can bring any quantity of witnesses to prove the ruin.  Well, it was early in the morning when me and the others meandered toward Winchester.  There had been a lot of fellows in that place the night before, carrying on a sort of Fourth of July celebration with ball cartridges.  These chaps wore gray clothes, and they didn't like us.  Indeed, they carried their dislike to such extremes that only a modern football match could excel the vindictiveness with which they interviewed us.  We expected to find those people ready to receive us with extended arms - Firearms, and we proceeded very cautiously, to avoid making mistakes.  The Thirteenth was deployed as skirmishers and every one carried his gun in both hands, ready to get in the first argument in case of a dispute.  After we got out of the woods, we came in sight of the town a mile or so away, with a long line of dark red earthworks extended in front.  All the trees had been felled, while the timber and brush had been left in lavish profusion scattered all over the field, making a lovely place for a battalion drill or a morning promenade.  These piles of brush seemed to be mutely calling on us to "wait a bit" and enforcing the admonition by catching our garments and lacerating our flesh.

     Geography tells us that the earth's surface is divided into land and water.  We found it true that morning as a rule, but it was surprising the number of places we reached where the division had been neglected and the land and water left blended together!  Then there was a brook, like a hungry snake looking for his breakfast, that wiggled all over that field.  Sometimes we waded it, and sometimes we leaped across it; once in a while, when some one fell down, tripped up by an unobserved branch, the brook would leap across him.  We read about "babbling brooks," and if ever a brook babbled that pesky stream did.  It seemed to have been in the babbling business ever since the year 6000 B.C., and after one had cleared it with a running jump and then crawled under a pile of brush he would find that brook babbling on the other side, "Here we are again."

     All the time we were getting nearer that dark red line of earthworks, expecting the "ball to open."  It always surprised me to hear that expression about the ball opening when a battle was about to begin.  The two occasions were so unlike in their nature that the application of the term "opening of the ball" to a bloody encounter must have been by inversion, a grim sort of pleasantry. To be sure, we tripped the light fantastic toe very many times amid the brush that littered the field of Winchester, but the ball never opened.  Whenever one emerged from behind some kindly cover, or rose to view from a generous depression, he expected to be plugged by the bullet of some skilful Confederate sharpshooter.  I never did so much expecting in all my life.  It was a whole week before Christmas crowded into a short hour.  There was the line of skirmishers advancing as rapidly as the nature of the ground permitted, and behind, the long line of battle resplendent with a dozen brand new flags, gorgeous as the ribbons on a bargain counter, surging forward to the baptism of fire.  It came later, but the only blood spilled on the field of March 12, 1862, was that gleaned by the annoying twigs on the slaughtered trees in front of the town.

     When we got very near without molestation we discovered that no guns were protruding from the embrasures and no rifles lined the ramparts with wicked eyes glancing along the barrels.  We supposed the enemy to be waiting to see the whites of our eyes before giving us a volley, and we kept our eyes shut as much as we could to delay the catastrophe, and when we found that the foe had skipped by the light of the moon, our spirits rose to summer heat and we cleared those intrenchments with a rush, Company D having the head of the column as the regiment rallied on the left and entered the town.

     Flushed with victory, we marched clear through to the other side and found never a foe to block our pathway or diminish our vanity.  It was so pleasant to think that we had made the rebels run and not feel at the same time that they were lagging on behind us, as they so often did in later days, when we were executing a quickstep. When we got through the town we were halted in the streets, and then sat on the curbstones, steps, or fences, for several hours, while our generals decided what to do with a conquered place.  We devoured the contents of our haversacks and listened to the prattle of the delighted darkies, who told us they were "so glad you-alls have come."  Then they told us about a little black boy who could not keep his exuberant spirits in control, who had incautiously shouted that he "was glad the Yankees were coming," which being overheard by a trooper in the last squad leaving the place, the latter had turned in his saddle and shot the boy through the head.

     After lounging about the streets till the pride of victory had dwindled into disgust, we learned that the Thirteenth was to perform guard duty in the town, and the various companies marched away to their assignments.  Company D was allotted the protection of the railroad yards and adjoining property, with the passenger station as a sort of barracks.  It was very near dark when we broke ranks and sought the waiting-room, which afforded meagre shelter for so many.

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Sore Feet & Bloody Boots

Warren Freeman of Company A was also in the vanguard during the advance to Winchester.  He and James Ramsey of Company F, both write how hard the march was on the poor soldiers' feet.

Letter of Warren H. Freeman; The advance to Winchester

Letter of James Ramsey; "Bloody Boots"

Like Waren Freeman, Ramsey had to endure excruciating pain on the march from ill fitting army boots.

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Company D & The Train

Diary of Samuel Derrick Webster, Company D

Excerpts of this diary (HM 48531) are used with permission from The Huntington Library, San Marino, CA 

Introduction     

     In the early days of the war, June of 1861, young Sam Webster, a resident of Martinsburg, did a bit of spying for the Union troops, by riding through rebel lines and reporting  their strength to Union commanders posted at Williamsport, Maryland.  He was only 15 years of age. When this got too dicey (rebel occupation of Winchester) Sam moved north at the end of July, first to Philadelphia then to Westminster, MD.  On December 1st, 1861 Sam's got his father's consent to join the army.  Sam left Westminster, Md. on December 26th for Hagerstown.  He was hoping to enlist in the 1st Maryland Cavalry.  Told the company was full, Sam met up with his brother Isaac at Hancock, 26 miles away, in early January.  "Ike" had joined the 13th Mass as a drummer in Company B.  On January 2nd, 1862, Sam went with the13th Mass companies A, B, E, & H as they returned to camp at Williamsport from detached duty at Hancock.  Ike was anxious to have Sam join the regiment as a drummer in Company D.  Captain Harlow consenting, Sam joined up.  He was sworn in by Adjutant David H. Bradlee on February 28th, 1862.  Thus began a long committment to the service and memory of the regiment of which Sam was a proud member.  His journal, a combination of diaries, letters and memoirs was written in 1868 following the war.  It was used as a reference when Charles Davis wrote his official history of the unit.  Sam's original manuscript is in the collection of the Huntington Library, San Marino, CA.  I am grateful to Sam's grand-nieces Mary and Polly for sharing this photograph and transcriptions of Sam's field diaries with me.  The following excerpts are from Sam's manuscript.

Wednesday, March 12^th
     Turn out at 4 oclock – march at sunrise.  13^th as skirmishers move on to Winchester and the rebels having vacated a bloodless victory is ours, and the 13^th the first Yanks in this redoubtable chip of South Carolina.  Arrived about 10 oclock.  Were at once quartered at the station (that is Co. D.) and Briggs, the Armorer, Champney, Reed of A, and myself, went to fixing the two engines capable of it.  Have got one old thing in running order, and a better one partly fixed.  The shops and machinery are a study.  The engine that works it has not “governor” or steam gauge, the cylinder has a loose play of an inch and a half beside being so much below the boils that we have to leave the cocks open for the water to run off.  On going to a room, (the lock of which I’d twice before picked) in company with Bacon and others to get him some sketching paper I found the door unlocked, and the supt of the road in the office, which was his.  I didn’t tell him I’d been in before, but got into a political dispute, in which he claimed to be a “Union Man,” a thing they all do, but “wanted his rights,” tho he couldn’t tell what they were or exactly what the secession movement was for. Had my chicken, which I’d brought from Stephenson’s, cooked, and that with another of the Captain’s furnished the mess with quite a fond supper.  The Capt., Lt., and non-coms mess are all in one room, at the station, the ticket office. One of the incidents of our entrance was something like this:  Little boy, on a porch, to his father:  Oh, Pa, look at them, they look just like we do.”   A lady exclaimed “Look at them!  They’re fat as horses!”  The first white person I saw was “Buck” Murphy, with whom I had but little conversation.  Col. Ashby stopped to water his horse at the upper end of the street, in our faces as we entered. The city is supplied with water by hydrants, and a gas works is just opposite our quarters.  Population about 5,000.  (Bacon, is Henry Bacon, who became a famous artist after the war).

Thursday, March 13^th 1862
     Early this morning, I among others of the Co. went on two cars towed by the engine we succeeded yesterday in fixing, on a voyage of discovery and repairs.  Twice we repaired broken track, it being once torn up, and in another place broken by our shot.  Arrived at Charlestown just after midday, where we found some troops passing.  Near the table on which we turned our engine – for we backed the rest of the way down we found a part of the Martinsburg turn table.  Nothing of note occurred going to Halltown, the extent of our ride, owing to a burnt bridge or culvert – which we could not rebuild for want of material.  On our way up, however, while rounding through a “cut” near Charlestown we nearly ran into a pile of rails placed to receive us.  It wouldn’t have been jolly for the party who placed them there to have found himself in our hands. Picking up such of our men as had been left in Charlestown, we started at a round rate for Winchester – 32 miles.  Got water by giving a receipt for it, and having found a pile of wood ready cut had no need to take vengeance on a citizen whom the Captain, on the way down, had ordered to cut some for us before our return.  We passed a great temptation in the shape of 40 or more beehives, but the Capt. would not let us stop to get them.  At the ‘grade” above Stephenson’s depot we had a hard time to get up, and two or more miles short of Winchester the steam having “got up” burst out a flue head and stopped us.  The Capt. made those who started first for quarters, go back and stay all night with the engine, while we tramped into town, where we arrived and now are, gloriously tired, the hour being any one from 10 to 1.

Friday, March 14^th, 1862
     Having got Eng. #2 fixed we went down and pulled up the one on the road after which a train was sent to Halltown for flour, getting back about one o’clock a.m. this.

This paragraph will have a class of caption.  It will be in italics.  I will use it to describe a photo or introduce a letter.  The letter box will be its own class.

Clarence Bell gives a detailed account of the train adventure below.

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HOW WE OPENED THE RAILROAD

by Clarence Bell, February, 1884.

      It was in March, ’62, when the city of Winchester first succumbed to the Federal forces; the troops of Stonewall Jackson retiring at one side of the town as the skirmishers of the Thirteenth Massachusetts entered it on the other.  This regiment was appointed as provost guard, and our company, D, put in charge of the depot and other property of the Potomac and Winchester R.R.  The opening of the road to Harper’s Ferry, as a base of supplies, was immediately determined on, and an investigation into the condition of the dilapidated rolling stock was instituted. We found three antiquated engines, and managed to get one of them into tolerable condition on the afternoon of the day of taking possession.

     It was a wheezy, asthmatic affair, that had evidently been saved from the junk-heap for a few years’ further service as a switching engine, and the retreating Confederates had probably considered it of too little value to be blown up or demolished. However, the mechanics of our company, by the exercise of considerable ingenuity, managed to fix it up so as to warrant a trip to Halltown, some thirty miles away, near Harper’s Ferry.

"Halltown" looking East.  Bolivar Heights would be in the distance.  (Harper's Ferry is just beyond Bolivar Heights).

 There was a sort of enthusiasm in regard to the affair, and the fact that Company D had been selected to open the railroad gave its members an increased dignity and importance in their own eyes, while they flattered themselves that all the rest of the regiment were bursting with envy at their good fortune.  Every one that dared to announced himself as a mechanic, and labored with monkey-wrench, screwdriver, or oiler, on that engine, while the rest of us, ordinary “ink-slingers” and clerks, prepared the fuel for the next day’s journey.  Wood was very scarce, and we had to gather up old ties, bits of plank, and anything that could possibly be coaxed into burning, as the provender for our “iron horse.”  It was hard work, as we were not accustomed to handle either the axe or the saw, but we labored faithfully and at nightfall had the tender loaded with as tough and varied a lot of fuel as ever a locomotive consumed.

     Very early in the morning of the next day we took possession of the train, and amid the cheers of our less fortunate comrades, started on our picnic.  We had but two platform cars, and these having previously been used for the carriage of wood, were covered with dirt, bark, and splinters from the former cargoes. However, this debris was a benefit rather than annoyance, for it served as a cushion to mitigate the hardness of the floor of the cars.  There were about eighty of us, and as it was expected that the track would need repairs, tools of various kinds, iron and spikes were carried with us. We were rather crowded, and a fringe of military legs clad in the light-blue livery of Uncle Sam adorned the sides of the cars. Probably no locomotive ever carried more engineers and firemen than did our consumptive engine, as it oscillated and snorted on its way.

     It was a very joyous, careless crew that crowded that train, and the woods re-echoed with the songs and laughter as we sped along.  Our progress was necessarily slow, for many reasons, the chief of which was that about ten miles an hour was the utmost speed to which we could attain, and then a sharp lookout for dangerous places was necessary.  In Winchester the track was of the ordinary T rail, but for all the rest of the distance it was simply thick strap iron, spiked down on wooden stringers.  Our first stop was about three miles out, where some damage had been done to the strap iron by the shells in the conflict of two days before; but a few minute’s work with hammer and cold chisel soon set matters right.

     Further on, we met the first spectators of our progress; a farmer, or rather planter, who with his two boys, slaves, had ventured down to the fence to see us go by.  The emancipation proclamation had not yet been thought of, and “property in man” was then recognized, even when the Federal forces occupied the borders of the seceding States. We would probably have passed the group with the usual salutation, “How are you, Secesh?”  but for the fact that the house of the planter was located near, and a plethoric wood-pile adorned his  front yard.  With our poverty of fuel vivid in our memories and before our eyes, our commander made his first war levy in the name of the United States from a conquered people, and with threats of dire calamity in case of neglect, the planter was notified to have some of that wood sawed up and delivered at the track ere our return.  It probably never entered our minds that we were making work for the two slaves and adding to their burdens by our levy.  Some miles further on, at a station, we came to the regular wood-yard of the railroad, and all fears of a dearth of kindling material vanished. We found the track in disorder at one other place, but not enough to delay us for any considerable time.

     Everywhere the people on the route kept in their houses, or from a distance looked at the moving train, but otherwise the country wore a very pleasant aspect. It was a delightful morning in March, and the signs of spring were already abundant. Flocks of sheep nibbled at the dried grass, or scampered in affright at the approach of the hissing locomotive. The lowing of cattle could be heard, and occasionally the cackling of poultry, or the gobbling of turkeys tantalized us as we lunched on “hard-tack and salt-horse” sandwiches, washed down with the stale tepid water from our canteens.  Many bee-hives showed their aggravating presence along the route, but, though in later months honey was considered as legitimate plunder, yet at this time the relative position of “our’n” and “his’n” were strictly maintained.

     When we consider that this region was rendered famous by the exploits of Mosby’s guerillas but a few months later, it is to be wondered at that we escaped molestation on our trip, but not a shot was fired, nor any attempt made to wreck the train. A skilful marksman could have picked us off by the dozens, without exposing himself to any risk.  Perhaps the confidence displayed by the Union forces at this time may have stimulated the formation of those bands of daring Confederate raiders that neutralized a large body of our troops, and rendered this territory as celebrated as the “dark and bloody grounds” of Kentucky.

     About noon we arrived at Charlestown, notorious as the place of execution of John Brown. Here the train, with most of the soldiers, was left behind, and the locomotive with a small detail went on to Halltown.  We whiled away the time by visiting the places of interest, and witnessing the passage of certain troops of Banks’s divison that had been ordered to the Peninsula, by way of Washington.  Late in the afternoon the engine retuned, but our commander found an authority of his own, for our train was enlarged by the addition of several cars loaded with flour for the army at Winchester. Now the engine was like an antiquated roué – its days for “going on a train” were among the past.  The additional freight cars added to the “platforms,” thronged with seventy-five or a hundred soldiers, was a severe strain upon its capacity. Even more than this, much to our dismay, a multitude of officers and civilians, with passes from authority that brooked no refusal, crowded in among us, and monopolized our scanty space. But the climax was reached when an adventurous Hebrew thrust aboard a large show-case filled with military trappings. He was going to Winchester to open a store, and the fact that this shrewd Israelite foresaw the numerous promotions to grow out of the campaign – promotions in which some of us were to participate – did not mitigate in the slightest degree the sufferings engendered by that infernal show-case.  We were crowded before, but this thing took up the room of several persons, while “Moses” was in a constant perturbation lest somebody should get against the glass.  His whining solicitations served to enliven the evening, and stimulated a mild current of subdued blasphemy that betokened our enjoyment at the infliction.

     We slowly proceeded on our homeward journey, the old locomotive sighing and sobbing as it labored and shivered under its heavy burdens.  We were reminded of the darky in Georgia, who overtook a train while walking on the track, but who declined the kind invitation from the conductor to “Jump aboard,” under the plea “that he couldn’t stop, as he was in a hurry.”  Up-grades were the bane of our existence, while down-grades afforded us the only moments of satisfaction in that black night of our recollections. No mirth, no songs, no pleasant stories broke the stillness of the occasion; nothing but the rattling of the wheels, the hissing of the steam, and the deep growlings of the discontented. Our yearnings were for Winchester, miles and miles away, and we longed for a comfortable sleep on the hard floor of the depot.

     The first incident that broke the monotony of our unhappiness was the discovery of a smouldering fire kindled beneath one of the bridges over which we passed. Fortunately for us, the timbers were damp, and were but slightly charred, so the attempt at our destruction had failed.  It served to remind us, however, of a fact which we were near forgetting – that we were in the enemy’s country – so a sharper outlook was maintained for obstructions or displacements.  But, to our satisfaction, no other evidence of malice showed itself.  We stopped at the residence of our victim with the wood-pile, and replenished our supplies of fuel. We really did not need to take any of his, as the wood-yard of the railroad had afforded us all that we required; but as the heavy hand of authority had levied on his property, it seemed to be neglectful not to take that portion that he had placed at our disposal. 

      It was nearly midnight, and our tedious journey was about at its close. Winchester was only two miles away, and the prospect of rest partially quenched the torrent of grumbling and peevishness that had characterized the night, when we struck on an upgrade that taxed all of the powers of our old “switcher.”  Every voice was hushed, and nothing could be heard but the steady puff, puff, as we gained inch by inch on the steep ascent.  But it was of no avail, for halfway up we came to a standstill; then slowly yielded, and finally went rattling back to the level track below. Another attempt – every pound of steam that could be attained was secured; the throttle pulled wide open and up we went with a rush that gave every promise of success, when a loud report was heard, followed by a cloud of escaping steam that enveloped the whole train. The panic that ensued can hardly be described. Men tumbled over each other, and upon each other; down the embankment, upon a pile of old rails at one side, and into a large pool of stagnant water on the other; while the crash of shattered glass betokened that some one had had the presence of mind to put his foot through that show-case.  There has always been a strong suspicion that there was no accident about that catastrophe.

     When we had quite recovered our wits, eager inquiries were made:  “What’s the matter?”  “Anybody hurt?”  We were reassured by the answer of our chief-engineer: “Nothing but a busted flue.”

     We gathered on the embankment, and counted noses. Beyond a few bruises, and some involuntary baths, no damage had been done to individuals; so shouldering our muskets, we abandoned the disabled engine, cars, cargo and Hebrew to their fate, and “Frogged” it into Winchester, where in the early hours of the morning we rolled ourselves in our welcome blankets, to sleep oblivious of Jews or Gentiles.

A few days afterward, on the main street, could have been seen in a shop window that show-case, a square of brown paper taking the place of the broken glass, and Moses probably added ten per cent, more profit to his wares to cover the damage to his lacerated feelings, as well as to that of his property. 

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Letter of Edwin Rice, March 12th, 1862

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Description of the Town of Winchester

"From Three Years in the Army" continued:

     Winchester is a town of four or five thousand inhabitants, blessed with a water-supply, is the county seat, has a medical college and a hotel. In addition to all these advantages, it was one of the hotbeds of secession.

     Our duties as provost guard made the stay in Winchester very attractive. The regiment was always allowed great liberty by the colonel, who found by experience that the men could be trusted with it; so we roamed about town, when not on duty, as pleased us best.  The men who were on duty, not wishing to be outdone by the colonel, also granted liberties to those of their comrades whom they knew they could trust. One of the places we were called upon to guard was the dining-room of the Taylor House, where many of the officers were quartered, to prevent any one not a commissioned officer entering without a pass.  It so happened that a few of us dined there each day at the landlord’s expense, the guard finding it difficult to detect the difference between a man who was a commissioned officer, and one who wanted to be.

Today, the Old Winchester Court House is a Civil War Museum.  Two soldiers of Company B wrote their names on the wall while quartered there in March, 1862.  If you look carefully at these pictures you may be able to make out some of the graffiti inscriptions; "David Hicks 13th Mass Co B" and John Wait 13th Mass" respectively.  Photos by Lauri Bridgeforth; provided by Tim Machado.

     Two of the companies were quartered in the hall in the court-house.  As the hall was provided with a platform, an opportunity was afforded of having some singing and dancing by Southern darkies whom we corralled each day, for the purpose, and to which the whole regiment was invited. The dancing was vigorous, and the singing, - well, it was not what we hoped it would be.  It began with a grand anthem of one hundred and thirty-nine stanzas, all just alike, which was ground out by the yard. A hat was placed on the front of the platform, to receive donations from time to time, as encouragement. When we got as many yards of the anthem as we could stand, we shut them off and made them dance – as a rest.

      When we thought they had sufficient rest we started them on again with the anthem until we got enough of both, when we divided the contents of the hat and fired them out. The anthem was as follows :

“And it’s Old John Brown don’t you see
It’ll never do for you to try to set the darkies free
For if you do the people will come from all around
And take you down and hang you up in old Charlestown.”

     There was no punctuation about it, and the only way we distinguished the verses was the emphasis placed on the word “and,” on beginning each stanza.  There was a dispute as to whether the number of stanzas was one hundred and thirty-nine or one hundred and forty; but one of the boys says he counted one hundred and thirty-nine, and that ought to settle it.

     It was while we were at Winchester that the government issued the new currency called “greenbacks,” fac-similes of which were published in the illustrated papers. The currency of the Confederacy was printed on various kinds of material, such as match-paper, cloth, etc.  The people of Winchester who believed that our government was as badly off as their own thought these fac-similes were good money, and received them as such until one was offered at a sutler’s store and refused, when a great ado was made at the “Yankee trick.”  As soon as it was known that these fac-similes would be taken by the people, the price of “Harper’s Weekly” or “Frank Leslies’s” paper rose very high. An appeal was made to the colonel for restitution, notwithstanding that “all is fair in love or war.”  The perpetrators for this fraud were never found. Curious, isn’t it ?

     During our brief stay in Winchester the boys enjoyed a little fun at the expense of the fair sex of that distinguished, town. A sutler of one of the regiments having secured a store on the main street for the sale of his goods, hung out over the sidewalk a Union flag.  The sight of the “Stars and Stripes” produced about the same effect on the people as the sight of a red rag would upon an enraged bull.  Rather than dishonor themselves by walking beneath it, they turned into the middle of the street to escape the humiliation. On the following day some members of the “Ninth New York” hung a large flag across the middle of the street, which Company K of the Thirteenth stretched another one across the opposite sidewalk, thus completely blocking the street. A rebel flag was then laid flat on the sidewalk.  Supposing this to be like those above, they trampled upon it and tore it with their feet, to the great merriment of the boys, who loudly applauded the act.  The mortification they felt on discovering their error was too exasperating for concealment, and so found vent in expression of disgust which added still more to the fun.

     The repugnance which the women of the South felt for a Yankee frequently found expression in contemptuous remarks.  At dress-parade, one night, as we were falling into line, on the double-quick, a woman shouted, “Ashby’ll make you run faster than that!”  Who knows but this unhappy creature may have inherited a copy of the “Vinegar Bible,” and that constant reading of it may have fermented the natural sweetness of her disposition?  One would think that nothing but an extermination of the whole race of Yankees would satisfy her anger, so bitter was her feeling.

Company K & the Union Flag

Austin Stearns recalls the above mentioned flag incident on page 58 of his memoirs.  "Three Years with Company K," used with permission.

Winchester

     Company K, with three other companies from as many regiments, were detailed as Provost Guard.  We took up our quarters in quite a respectable house on one of the main streets, the company from the 9th New York being nearly opposite. Over our entrance we hung the Stars ad Stripes, and the New Yorkers did the same.

     The female portions of the city were violent[ly] secesh.  They showed their dislike to the Yanks in every way they could, and to pay them off was a constant study with the boys.  One day, having captured a small secession flag and seeing two well dressed ladies coming, we thought to play a little joke on them. On a former occasion they, or some other ladies, had turned out, going round instead of under the Old Flag. Now the captured flag was spread on the walk, so they must walk under it’s folds or step on the secesh flag; they came down and saw what was in store for them. One daintily picked her way past on the curb stone, while the other stepped boldly out into the muddy street, preferring to walk through Virginia mud two inches deep then under the old Flag.

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Chaplain Noah Gaylord's Sermon to the Secessionists

Pictured is the Winchester Court House as it would have appeared in March of 1862 when company B, of the 13th Mass occuppied it as Provost Guard.

I am very grateful to Mr. Eric Larson of Cowcard.com for sharing this image with me and allowing it to be posted here.  This is a vintage postcard circa 1911.

The following letter describes in some detail the 'sermon' Chaplain Noah Gaylord directed to the secessionist citizens of Winchester on Sunday, March 16, 1862.  He was the first Yankee preacher to be heard in the town.  Charles Davis, Jr. writes:

Sunday March 16.
 The chaplain preached a rattling sermon on the evils of secession, in front of the court-house.  Notice having been given out to the towns-people that he was to preach, advantage was taken by some of them to be present and listen to a “Yankee” preacher.  An opportunity was thus afforded the chaplain of airing his eloquence, with which he was highly gifted, on these degenerate sons of Virginia.

Westboro Transcript; March 29th, 1862; Gaylord's Sermon

The picture of Chaplain Noah Gaylord was purchased from the Army Heritage Education Center in Carlisle, PA.  The black & white image was tinted in photoshop.

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Senator Mason's Home

"Three Years in the Army," continued:  

      Winchester was the home of Mason, of the firm of Mason and Slidell, that famous pair of rebels who came so near embroiling us in a war with England. They were appointed by the Confederate government as envoys to European courts, and were taken by the rebel gunboat “Theodora” to Havana, escaping the watchfulness of our cruisers.  Upon their arrival at that port they became inflated with a lofty admiration of their consequence, forgetting how illusive is the vainglory of the world.  Assuming an importance out of keeping in men representing a rebellious government, they attracted the attention of the world to their mission and its purport, thereby laying the foundation of their subsequent failure as diplomats.  From Havana they embarked on board the English steamship “Trent,” bound for “Merrie England,”

     It so happened that the noise of their doings reached the ears of Commodore Wilkes, who was on his way home from Africa in the “San Jacinto.”  Impressed with the idea that they were fair game to capture, wherever they might be found, he overhauled the “Trent” and demanded their surrender.  After removing them to the “San Jacinto,” which, by the way, was not accomplished without some friction, Commodore Wilkes set sail for Fort Warren, Boston Harbor, where he deposited his thoroughly disgusted prisoners, to enjoy the care and entertainment of the government, while he enjoyed the hospitality proffered him by the people of Boston, where his action made him a great hero.

     All this, which happened n November, 1861, made a deuce of a row.  Our government soon learned that yanking the British lion’s tail, without lawful right, meant something, and it was forced to eat its dish of “crow” by apologizing for its hasty  action, and transferring the prisoners to an English ship, anchored at Provincetown, and thus fortunately ending the matter.

     In consequence of these exiting incidents Mr. Mason’s residence became an object of much curiosity, and as a guard was detailed from the Thirteenth to protect the premises, we had an opportunity of becoming distantly acquainted with his family.  Their sentiments were of the rabid kind. They believed a dead Yankee was the best kind of a Yankee.  We did our best, by good nature and politeness, to remove their impressions; but it was no go, as the gangrene of contempt had too deeply affected their minds to allow a change of heart.  When the guard arrived at the house, Mrs. Mason, mistaking their purpose, remonstrated against any “Northern mudsills” entering her premises, which statement was promptly communicated to the colonel, who soon made his appearance and explained to her that it was the guard sent to protect her and her property from the presence of persons whom she had no wish to see. And this is the way we were treated in return for all our kindness and attention to her husband during his stay at Fort Warren.

     An order was this day issued by General McClellan, in accordance with the President’s order of the 8th inst., designating General Banks’ corps, composed of the divisions of Generals Williams and Shields, as the Fifth Corps.  An order was also issued this day by General Banks to his troops, containing he following :

 When we reflect how much property we protected, and thereby made useful for Jackson in his subsequent raids up the valley, we naturally asked which army he means will be destroyed.

     So far as our experience goes, the people of Winchester expressed astonishment that no plundering had occurred, as they had been informed that terrible things would happen upon our entry into town.  Whether they lied or not we are unable to say, but they said the town was never so quiet as during our stay there. It may be they spoke the truth, as most of the stores were closed upon our entrance, but shortly afterward opened, doing a thriving business.

Westboro Transcript, March 22nd 1862; Death of Thomas Rathburn, Co. F

Private Rathburn of Bolton, mustered into Federal service with the Regiment on July 16th, 1861.  His occupation was listed as butcher.  He was 20 years old.

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Reconaissance in Force to Newtown, March 15th;

From "Three Years in the Army," continued:

Saturday, March 15.
     Early in the morning the right wing of the regiment, with two companies of cavalry and four pieces of artillery, made a reconnoissance to Newtown, eight miles away.  Upon our arrival at that place, we found the enemy drawn up in line of battle in readiness to make it warm for us should we feel disposed to advance. The artillery was immediately placed in position and began firing.  Whether we did any damage or not we had no means of knowing. On our side no one was hurt, though several were badly scared.  During the desultory firing, arrangements were being quietly made by the enemy to gobble the whole outfit, which action was discovered in season to prevent its completion.  As there was no time to countermarch the regiment, it marched back to Winchester “Left in front,” the small men thereby taking the lead.  It soon began to rain, and before our arrival in Winchester we were drenched to the skin. This return march of eight miles was made in one hour and fifty minutes – extraordinarily good time for a regiment marching in column, and will be recollected by the participants for that, if for nothing else.  It was a great day for the “ponies,” as it was they who set the pace.

     The average speed of a regiment on the march is from two to two and a half miles per hour. This speed includes such delays as occur from obstructions in the road, caused generally by streams that are not bridged. It sometimes happens that a speed of three miles per hour, and occasionally three and a half miles, is attained under special circumstances.  In the march from Newtown, just recorded, the rate of speed exceeded four miles per hour; a very exceptional case.

The manner of marching was in fours, and by what is known as “route step;” that is, “go as you please.”  The men were generally in step, because it was easier, as everybody knows. You were at liberty to carry your gun, knapsack, blanket, ammunition, etc., as best pleased yourself. Three to five days’ rations were often carried in the haversack. In the last part of the war, to have had issued to you for three days such a quantity and variety of rations as was given you for one day at this time would have made a man think he was preparing for Thanksgiving day. [drawing titled "route step" by Edwin Forbes from "Thirty Years After, An Artist's Memoir of the Civil War."]

Letter of Warren H. Freeman; March 17th; Reconnaissance to Newtown

This illustration aptly depicts the action at Newtown; titled Reconnaissance in Force by Edwin Forbes from "Thirty Years After, An Artist's Memoir of the Civil War."

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Transfer to General John J. Abercrombie's Brigade

From "Three Years in the Army," continued:

Monday, March 17.
      St. Patrick’s day without a procession in honor of the man who drove snakes out of Ireland is a deprivation we were unused to.  What a terrible thing is war !  We were now in a part of the country where an “F.F.V.” was a bigger man than St. Patrick.

     For real thoroughbred aristocracy, the “First Families of Virginia” can lay over, or think they can, all the “blue-bloods” of the North or South.  They have a well-grounded opinion of their superiority to other mortals in this world, with anticipations of a similar rank in the next. Perhaps they expect, on announcing their names at the gates of Paradise, that St. Peter will doff his cowl with becoming humility, and lead them to the seats already reserved about the throne for people whose blood is of the ultra-marine hue.  In their opinion, to bear the label “F.F.V.” confers a distinction that no honor can excel.  It is a brand of aristocracy too choice to be the reward of mere wealth. As a rule they were persons of culture and refinement, and took great pride and pleasure in dispensing a generous though ruinous hospitality. They looked upon themselves as the nobility of the land, and prior to the war, with abundance of means, and numerous slaves to do their bidding, many of them led ideal lives. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the breaking up of such an existence should develop an unnatural animosity toward the government.  It was impossible to live as they did, in the dazzling rays of external splendor, without exciting the unreasoning enmity of their less fortunate neighbors, who took advantage of our presence to retaliate. It happened after we crossed the river into Virginia, that, knowing little about them, we sought every opportunity of exciting mirth or provoking ridicule at their weaknesses. As we became acquainted with them, we were ready to believe them to be generous, brave, and attractive in manners, except when their tempers were excited, as against the North, and then they were rabid and unreasonable.  We soon learned that every ill-clad ignorant specimen on the roadside was not an “F.F.V.”  We also learned that their less fortunate neighbors took every opportunity of maligning them, and the stories told us of the terrible things they were doing had to be taken with a good deal of allowance, otherwise we might have done them injustice.

Tuesday, March 18.
      Companies B and K, retained in town for duty while the rest of the regiment prepared to go into camp, an order having been received transferring the thirteenth to General Abercrombie’s brigade. During the day we called on our old associates of Hamilton’s brigade and bade them good-by.  General Shields with his division of 10,000 men passed through Winchester to-day and made a good show.

Wednesday March 19. 
     Marched out of town about two miles ; pitched tents in sight of the camps of the Second and Twelfth Massachusetts regiments. We then marched to the camps of the regiments in Abercrombie’s brigade, that we might see them, and let them see us. The new brigade was composed of the Twelfth Massachusetts, Ninth New York (Eighty-third Vols.), the Twelfth and Sixteenth Indiana regiments.  Whatever may have been their opinion of us, we were favorably impressed with our new associates. We thus began an association with the Twelfth Massachusetts and Ninth New York regiment that lasted during the rest of our service, and with whom we shared a good many hardships and dangers as time rolled on.

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© Bradley M. Forbush, 2009

Page Updated January 10, 2010.