Introduction
by Brad
Forbush
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 the regiment. 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.
Westboro
Transcript, March 22, 1862
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
Saturday Morning, March 22, 1862
The
following is a portion of an interesting letter written by Capt. Hovey,
of Co. K, to Mr. John Homan, just before the 13th left Williamsport,
and while under immediate marching orders:
“We have at
last
received a definite order to be ready to move tomorrow morning (March
1st), and at about that time we shall probably start for
Dixie. I
think our destination is Martinsburgh, but we may push up towards
Winchester; circumstances will of course control us, and we may bring
up in New Orleans before we stop,
“I feel
highly gratified at
the interest felt in the welfare of Co. K, as expressed in the letter
of Mr. Nourse in behalf of the selectmen, which letter I have several
times read. The arrangements made with Adam’s Ex. Co. are
peculiarly
gratifying to me, for if I should be so unfortunate as to lose any
more of my men I don’t wish to have them buried out here. I
hope I
shall not lose a man; but we all feel that we are going where the
chances are that some of us may fall. I have not got a man to
lose;
not a man but would be a loss to us as a comrade and friend, and I hope
to be able to bring home a bright record of Co. K, with nothing in it
to sadden the hearts of those at home.
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Return to Top
The Advance
Three
Years in the Army, The Story of the Thirteenth Massachusetts Volunteers;
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.”
Who Took
Martinsburg ?
Sketch of
Martinsburg Square witht 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 Martinsburgh
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.
Ms Am 2332
(30) "By permission of
the Houghton Library, Harvard University."
Thursday March 2d 1862, Martinsburgh, Va.
Dear Mother,
Notice the date. This
morning at about 1 A.M we arrived at this town. Not to anticipate
matters I will commence where I left off in my letter to father of the
26th ult. My knapsack was then packed and I was
ready to
start for Dixie at any moment. The fierce gales of the 24th
&
28th ult and other circumstances delayed our departure and it was not
until the eve’g of the 28th ult that we were fully assured of our
immediate departure. Several days before I had bid good by to
Williamsport friends, but they were worth bidding good by to several
times. The third time I made my last ppc at one home where
for
the third time I heard the beautiful song “good by.” I said, this is my
last ppc; if I stay here a fortnight longer you will see me no more
except on our regimental march. The third time never
fails.
As luck would have it I was on guard on the 28th & stood guard
during the pitiless gale of that freezing day & night from 3 Am
to
7 o clock yesterday morning. Fortunately I was able to rest
and
doze for a couple of hours or so after coming off guard, and was
therefore in passable condition to commence a march in which I was to
carry on my back for more than twelve hours an extraordinarily heavy
knapsack. At about one P.M. yesterday the rest of the
Regiment
marched by our quarters and we were quickly formed into Company
line. We immediately marched to the canal bridge which leads
to
the bank of the river. There we halted to await the passage
of
the four companies which were to precede us in crossing by the ferry,
as we the color company were fifth in line, though third in
rank.
I improved a portion of the time we halted shaking hands with my
numerous friends who of course with the rest of the town turned out to
witness our crossing the river. At length the time arrived
for us
to go on board the ferry boat. We were soon in Virginia, and
drawn up on the Martinsburgh pike where we waited till about ¼ to seven
o’clock, when our whole regiment, the 12th Indiana, a company of
Maryland Cavalry, and two rifled pieces of Mathews Penn. Battery were
formed in Brigade Line. It was a splendid sight to witness
the
passage of our troups, one company at a time over the troubled and
rapid river. The First Maryland Regt which arrived while we were
crossing gave us three rousing cheers. From the high land
along
the pike, along which were built a hundred bonfires to warm ourselves
with, fed by the dry fence rails, we could see one Regiment after
Regiment, probably of Williams Brigade file over a high hill on the
Greencastle pike some two or three miles away, their bayonets
glistening in the dying sunlight. As company after company of
the
crossing regiments reached the Virginia side, rousing cheers went up to
the skies significant of the joy pervading all hearts at the proud
thought of occupying soil long given over to confederate tyranny from
which the blessed light of freedom of speech, if not of thought had
long been banished.
Long I gazed at the town in which
for over four months our regiment had been encamped & where we
were
leaving a regiment of friends. It seemed longer than before and
worthier. On the first of August we reached
Hagerstown.
Seven long months had passed and we were within six miles of
it.
But ho for Dixie. The time for delay has passed.
Now is the
time for action.
At ¼ to seven P.M as I said we
commenced our thirteen mile march for Martinsburgh. The pike
was
in good condition. The newly risen moon for a short time did
his
best to illuminate our way, then sunk behind the hills.
Nothing
delayed our march. A few ditches, none above a foot deep,
through
which my knee high boots carried me safe and dry only impeded our
march. As we neared Martinsburgh, a rapid fire of five or six
pieces from our advanced guard on rebel pickets for a moment put us
upon guard. Nothing came of it. At last we reached the town
and
marching to its centre halted while the Col. should find quarters for
us. I took my eve’g meal of crackers and cheese, sitting upon
the
side walk. The Col. made a short & to the point
speech saying
that we had come to bear aloft the flag of the U.S. and not to injure
private property, & that the first instance of depredation upon
private property, secesh or Union should be severely
punished.
The band plaid Dixie, Red White & Blue, Glory Hallelujiah amid
tremendous cheers from our regiment. I had scarcely arisen
from
the side walk after finishing my supper when a sound as if of beating
in of doors was heard accompanied by the report of more than twenty
five arms. A panic ensued at once. Men seemed to
have lost
their minds & the tallest specimen of tall running occurred,
that I
ever witnessed. My first thought was of a rebel ambuscade; my
second to cap my rifle, my third that a charge bayonets would be more
effective, my fourth, - but I was Knocked over. I picked
myself
up as quick as possible and endeavored by hallowing halt to stop the
rout, & then ran to the middle of the street where we had been
halted before resting. The first man I saw was Corp.
Worcester
who was shouting “where’s B” in indignant rage, to which I answered
“here’s one” to which I believe I added “by thunder.” I think
I
was about as mad as he was. We soon rallied & no
further
alarm ensued. It would have been wonderful indeed had our men
not
been temporarily frightened at the sudden firing. We were
lying
on the side walk, some half a sleep, all unconscious of
danger.
Doubtless most ran to recover themselves & soon
rallied. My
first impulse was to run, but as I stood transfixed by contending
emotions, I thought it was better to be shot than to run, and if I was
to die then, I would die with my face to the foe. But
oh! I
shall never forget the tall running, the hurry, the scramble, the Knock
downs of that street bugaboo.
Different accounts are given of
the cause of the trouble. Some say that Co. A, or several men
of
their Co. on guard fired at a horseman who did not answer their
challenge. Certain it is that the horse of an officer I think
was
shot in the neck. I do not (know) whether anybody was
wounded. Others say that a body of cavalry fired their
carbines
then wheeled and galloped away. At any rate Blanchard, on
whom I
can rely, says he heard the heavy tramp of horses clattering down the
street and saw the flashes of the guns. The reports seemed to be those
of smoothbores. The truth will probably come out some day.
Our Company quartered in the house
occupied by the old rebel provost quartermarshall Nadenbrush.
(Nailenbrush? Halenbrush?) The nails driven in the walls of
the
rooms seem to indicate their previous occupancy by the
rebels. I
send you one of the Marshall’s passes of date February 7th.
Martinsburgh is quite a large
place, perhaps five times as large as Williamsport and contains in
peaceful times a population of five or six thousand. Here
lives
C. J. Faulkner whose house I intend to have a good look at.
It is
a large fine house. Martinsburgh is one of the great stations
of
the Baltimore & Ohio R.R. On the torn up track here
are
thirty or forty ruined rail road engines, some of immense size, ruined
by fire. They look dreary enough. Two or three very large
round-houses, the largest I ever saw, are here, from which the engines
were probably taken before their destruction. An iron
foundry,
machine shop etc. are also here. A rail road bridge
resting
upon about twenty granite pillars has been destroyed and beneath it lie
the disjected fragments of a locomotive.
There are several churches here,
none open to day but the Catholic which is very large. I have not
explored the town very much as snow is now falling.
As for the march I stood it
splendidly. My boots are a perfect fit, and have not troubled
me
in the least. Not even are the soles of my feet hot as they have been
after marching in shoes too large for me. Only my shoulders
betray the fatigue of a long and arduous night march. I was
told
a day or two ago that Ores. Felton was dead. Is this so
& has
talk yet been had of his successor? What is the news in
Cambridge? I received the pocket-hand-kerchief by mail day
before
yesterday. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am as ever,
Your Affectionate Son
John B.
Noyes
P.S. direct to Williamsport.
|
Sketch of the Ruins of the Martinsburg Roundhouse
by Alfred R. Waud. Waud depicts the ruined roundhouse but
the
rolling stock appears to be in tact. When the 13th passed
through
the rolling stock around the yard was destroyed. The
Baltimore and Ohio
R.R. Depot, Round House and Shops, along with the rolling
stock, were destroyed by Stonewall Jackson's brigade June 20th
1861. This sketch was separated from a larger sketch
depicting
scenes of Martinsburg, the top sketch was also part of the same.
Return to Top
Letter
of Warren H. Freeman; March 3, 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.
MARTINSBURG,
Va., March 3, 1862.
Well, here we are in the midst of rebels,
and upon their sacred soil.
We left Williamsport Saturday morning, March lst, and crossed the
Potomac about noon; we went over in a kind of flat-boat, guided by a
wire stretched across the river. The boat could only carry about sixty
men, so the process was rather slow. As we have the right of the line
we were the first to cross. We halted about half a mile from the river,
and waited for the rest of our regiment to come up. We were on a hill
in full view of the opposite bank of the river, where were grouped
together a part of our regiment, the Twelfth Indiana, and First
Maryland, with one battery, and all the baggage train, etc., with
numerous fires: viewed from our position it was quite an imposing
scene.
It was nearly night before the
whole brigade was over; the
Indiana regiment joined us, and we took up the line of march at seven
o’clock P. M. The road was in pretty good condition, but frozen hard,
which made our feet sore. We were in heavy marching order, with two
days’ rations. I should think we carried a weight of seventy-five
pounds; we marched in quick time with very few halts. The country was
quite level, which was all in our favor. When we arrived within about a
mile of Martinsburg, our quarter-master and commissary sergeant, who
were half a mile in advance of’ the regiment, were fired upon by a
squad of rebel cavalry; they immediately wheeled and fell back on the
regiment. Company A was then ordered off through the fields round the
town, to come up on the Winchester road, and cut off the retreat of the
rebels. We had rather a severe time of it, I can assure you -
through the fields, over fences and ditches, and through one large
piggery, where the mud was nearly over my high-legged boots.
We
probably went over three miles before reaching the road where we were
to halt. We here drew up in line to intercept the fleeing enemy, but
they had scattered in some other directions. After a. brief
rest
we marched into town. Two prisoners only were taken.
It is about fourteen miles from the river to
the town, but The
route we took would make it about seventeen miles, and we
arrived
here before midnight – or in less than five hours from the time we left
the river. The boys say this is the hardest march
yet. I
thought several times I should be obliged to give in, my feet were so
sore, and great pain across my shoulders; but have got over it now, and
next time shall stand it better. Soon after our arrival we
were
quartered in a church that had just been vacated by the rebels. Next
day were removed to a brick house on a back street. This
building
had also been occupied by the enemy.
Martinsburg is a very pretty town, of, I
should think, about four
thousand inhabitants. When the rebels left, they burnt the bridges,
railroad stock, cars, engines, etc. The stores are all
cleaned
out; what few things that are for sale they charge enormous prices for.
Our army now here numbers about four thousand infantry, one battery,
and a squadron of cavalry. More troops are expected to arrive
to-night. The rebels, in force, are entrenched at Winchester,
which (as you will see by the map) is but a few miles from here. What
General Banks’s designs are in regard to them we do not know, but I
hope they will wait for the mud to dry up before any very extended
movements are made; however, we are in for it now, and may the God of
battle protect and defend us, for we have the consciousness of being in
the right, as we feel that we must prevail. There is much on every side
to write about, but time will not admit of saying more now, so
farewell.
WARREN.
|
Letter
of Edwin Rice; March 4th 1862
Rice identifies
the officer shot at by Company A as a
lieutenant of the 1st Maryland Cavalry seeking a livery for
his
horse. The 1st Maryland moved into town directly ahead of the
13th Mass Infantry.
|
Martinsburg,
Virginia
March 4, 1862
Viola,
We have at
last trod on the ‘sacred soil.’ We left Williamsport
about 7 p.m. Saturday. The weather was pleasant and cool and
a
good time to march. The pike was in good order. We
arrived
here about 12 Sat. evening. The distance was about 14 miles. We marched
into town very still and in good order. As soon as we halted
the
Band played Yankee Doodle, Red, White & Blue etc., and the
colonel
made a short speech to the men in which he said that all private
property must be respected, and he wanted to show the citizens that we
came here to carry out the laws and intentions of the U.S. government,
and not to rob and plunder everything that came in their way.
We had to
wait in the street while the colonel found comfortable
quarters whilst we staid here. The men were pretty well tired out and
were sitting and lying on the sidewalk most of them asleep, when we
were all startled by the reports of muskets, and the bullets flying
amongst us and over us. It was so sudden and un-expected that
nearly all commenced running back (the firing was in front of
us). The captains called upon the men to fall in and to
commence
loading which they did very promptly.
The Band was
in two or three different places when the soldiers
commenced running. One of them knocked Gassett down and trod on his
horn and flattened the bell of it. Knapp had his bent nearly double.
Martens had his bruised pretty bad. I fell over an ash heap
and
bruised mine pretty bad, but none were injured so but what they can be
used. But the strangest of all is that no one was hit by the
balls. A member of Co E was knocked down by a horse and
bruised
his face very badly.
The way the
thing was brought about is this. A lieutenant of our
cavalry was looking up some stables for his horses. He had a
black with him and was telling him how some rebel cavalry were in town
as late as 10 o’clock that night, and just as the words were out of his
mouth they were challenged by one of our guards who had been stationed,
and the lieutenant supposed he was challenged by the rebels. He turned
and put spurs to his horse, and the guard fired on him and about half
of the advance company who were loaded, also fired at him. It was lucky
that no one was hit. The lieutenant’s horse was hit in the fleshy part
of the neck.
Before the
excitement was over, the Band had got into a hotel and out
of the way where we staid the rest of the night. In the morning Tom
found a room for us into which we moved. There did not happen
to
be any rebels in town. Most of them left Thursday morning.
There are
but a few persons living in town now. Most of the union
citizens left whilst the rebels were here, and the secesh left when
they heard that we were coming.
The union
troops now here are the 13th Mass, 5th Conn, 28th NY, 46th
Pa, 12th Indiana, 1st Md, 2 Co’s of cavalry and one of artillery. They
have been coming in since Sunday morning. It rained nearly all day
yesterday. The 5th Conn, and 46th Pa came in yesterday in the rain. It
was a bad day to march. It cleared
up somewhat during the night and is
now quite cool. We, the Band, have got a nice room to live
in. It
is about 25 feet square and 14 high.
General Jackson sent in a flag of truce last
evening and said that he
would give Leonard till 4 o’clock this morning to leave town. We did
not leave and suppose he concluded to let us be here.
Can’t write any more now. Will
write you again in a day or two.
Yours,
Edwin Rice
|
Return to Top
Description
of the Town of Martinsburg
Three
Years in the Army, The Story of the Thirteenth Massachusetts Volunteers;
by Charles E.
Davis, Jr., 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.
|
WESTBORO TRANSCRIPT
March 22nd
1862
Mr. B. B. Nourse has also received a letter from
Capt. Hovey, of a
still later date than the foregoing, from which we are permitted to
make extracts. It was written at Martinsburg, Va., 5th
March. The Capt. Says,
 “Although my company was
the first that entered Martinsburg on our
recent advance into Secessia, we happen, accidentally, to be left
behind by the regiment, which has gone on towards Winchester.
Not
being relieved early enough while on outpost guard duty, I was ordered
to remain behind a few hours to rest my men, prepare rations,
&c.
To-morrow morning we go to rejoin the 13th.
“I think the town of Westboro deserves a great
deal of praise for its
liberality towards the company I am so fortunate to command.
“No one can say that Co. K is a second-rate
company, either in
discipline, good conduct, drill or morals; and while I feel that it is
equal to any company I ever saw. I hope soon to be able to
say,
without vain-boasting, that it is superior to any.
“As we are expecting soon to be engaged in battle
with the rebel force,
I will allude to the arrangements made by the town of Westboro with the
Adams’ Express Co., for the transportation home of the bodies of such
of my men as I may lose. I hope I shall not lose a man; but I
can
hardly expect to be so fortunate as that. If some of our
number
should fall, I have arranged with my Lieutenants and Orderly Seargent
that in case accident should prevent me from talking charge of the sad
business, they shall act for me. I shall not of course leave
such
duties for others to perform if I am spared to attend to them
myself. I hope the Express Company will follow us up as we
advance, for by to-morrow night we shall be over thirty miles from
their nearest office, which is at Hagerstown, Md.
“We are all rejoiced that the long-talked of
“Forward Movement” has at
last commenced. It appears to be going on finely; and
McClellan
must soon be acknowledged a far abler general than the North have
predicted he would prove. We expect hard work now, in the way
of
forced marches, big fights, little fights, picket duty , &c.,
&c.; but we all feel able and willing – and not only willing,
but
impatient – to be moving onward until the good old flag is restored to
supremacy in every town between this and the Gulf cities.”
(Capt. Hovey, being an utter stranger to our
citizens has forwarded to
Mr. Homan three photographs of himself, one of which is retained by Mr.
H., and the others are in possession of J.F.B. Marshall, Esq., and the
writer of this. He is a fine looking man; and no one who sees
his
picture will be surprised at the fact that he is a favorite with his
command.
Co. K is now, or was at last accounts, doing
Provost duty at
Winchester, Va., recently the headquarters of the rebel General
Jackson’s forces, and where a desperate fight was
anticipated. A
letter from there says: “While our regiment (13th) was
entering
Winchester, Jackson’s troops were marching out at the other end of the
street.
|
Return to Top
"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.
Return to Top
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
|
MARTINSBURG,
Va., March 7, 1862.
DEAR
FATHER,-I received your letter of March 2d, yesterday. I had been
out on picket on the Winchester turnpike, and found that and two papers
to welcome me on my return. These frequent letters from home are truly
gratifying, I can assure you. Wednesday last all the troops received
orders to march immediately with twenty-four hours' rations; when we
got ready there was one company detailed from each regiment to remain
and do guard duty, - Company A being the unlucky one from the
Thirteenth. The main body then took up the line of march for Bunker
Hill, distant about ten miles; the guard were then sent off on picket.
We went in squads on the different roads leading out of town; our squad
took the Winchester road for about two miles. Our orders were to allow
no person to leave the town without a pass. At night those not on duty
took up their quarters in an old barn. The next day we were relieved by
an Indiana company and returned to town. You can form no idea of the
wholesale destruction of property here by the rebels. I
counted
upward of forty locomotives of the largest kind, partially burned and
stove up, in one heap; there were large depots, engine-houses, etc.,
burnt or otherwise destroyed, together with bridges and everything else
pertaining to a large railroad business.
Our orders
now are to be ready to march to join our regiment to-morrow morning at
nine o'clock.
|
Letter
of Edwin Rice, March 7th, 1862, Bunker Hill
|
Bunkers
Hill, Virginia
March 7th 1862
Viola,
We are now within 12 miles of Winchester. Left
Martinsburg Wednesday
morning in a snow squall, and arrived here about 4 p.m. The
troops came in, in good order. Our advance guard captured 5
rebel
pickets and were fired on by some of their cavalry but no one was
hit. It was rather muddy on the pike. The mud was only about
an
inch deep.
There are now here, the 1st Md Regt., 5th Conn,
12th Indiana, 28th NY,
46th Pa, 6 pieces of cannon and 2 Co’s of cavalry. The correct name for
this place is Mill Creek P.O. It is about half as large as
Darnestown.
The Band are quartered in a two story log home.
There is a family
living in it too. The colonel told us to take possession of
it
and make ourselves as comfortable as we could. Our tents did not come
till last night. The man of the house is a secesh. I don’t think he
likes the style in which we live just now. There is not a
building in the place but what is full of soldiers. About
half of
the command here had to stay outdoors. They don’t now, as the tents
have come.
It is reported that as soon as General Shields
arrives here with his
command (formerly Landers) that we shall make an advance upon
Winchester. He is expected here by Sunday night. Don’t know as there is
any truth to the report or not.
This is the most God forsaken place that I ever
saw. If we had
not got into a house with a family in it we should have fared hard for
food. I have not had anything to eat except 6 biscuits since we have
been here. Our rations did not arrive till this morning. The
weather has been coolly pleasant.
A deserter came in yesterday and said that Ashby’s
cavalry was going to
try to capture some of our pickets last night. 4 Co’s were sent out to
reinforce them. Haven’t heard this morning as they made the
attempt or not.
The
field on which General Patterson had a skirmish with the rebels last
July is but a short distance from our place.
Some think that when General Shields comes along
that we shall move on
about 5 miles further so that when the battle of Winchester comes off
we shall not have so far to march to it, and leave all camp equipage
etc. behind.
Shan’t write any more until we get into camp,
where things are more convenient. Am feeling first rate.
Edwin Rice
|
Return to Top
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;
|
Bunkers
Hill, Virginia
March 9th 1862
Mother,
This
is the pleasantest day that we have had for a long time. It
is a
real spring day, warm and pleasant.
Our regiment expects to leave here in a day or two
to join the brigade
that we were in at Darnestown. It is somewhere near Charlestown about 8
miles from this place. It is the second brigade – General Hamilton.
Friday afternoon our regiment was on drill about a
mile on the
Winchester pike when a courier came in with news that our cavalry were
having a skirmish with the rebels and wanted reinforcements. The
regiment started off at double quick for the place, the Band bringing
up in the rear. After we had gone about two miles we were met
by
our cavalry coming in; the rebels having retreated. Our cavalry had 3
men wounded one of which has since died. The others were only
slightly wounded. They captured 8 or 10 horses and killed and
wounded a number of the rebels. With that exception, as far as I know
of, everything has been still and quiet.
Since we have been here we have not had much of
anything to eat except
hard bread and coffee. As soon as we get established in camp
we
shall live better. The Chaplain delivered one of his excellent sermons
today. There was not as much religion in it as good advice
and
common sense.
The “man of the house” has got a $20 Confederate
bond which is payable
6 months after the Confederacy is recognized which probably will never
be. Specie gold and silver were strangers in this part of the state
before we came here. The currency was in shinplasters and Confederate
notes. They answered every purpose before we came, but since then they
do not pass as readily.
It is three weeks today since I have changed my
clothing. Our baggage
did not get along till yesterday. There is no one here who
can
wash the dirty ones except myself and I am afraid that I should not
have time to do it before we march again, and I had rather cry the
dirty clothes on my back than in the valise.
Such bags of salt as you can buy for 20c sold for
$5 here and could
hardly be had for that price. Farm produce was the only stuff
that was cheap.
I send with this a photograph of Lieutenant
Colonel Batchelder. I think
it is a very good one. His face is covered with freckles which account
for the spots on his face in the photograph. I sent a photograph of
Colonel Leonard to Viola and told here when she got tired of looking at
it to send t to you. It is a very good one.
I am interrupted so much in writing that I believe
I shall stop. There
are so many coming in and going out that I can’t think of anything.
It is thought here that we shall be in Winchester
in a week from now.
Deserters say that all the heavy baggage, provisions, ammunition etc.
is being moved to Strasburg.
I don’t know but what you think that Winchester is
a large place, but
it is not, at least I have been told so by men who live near
here. It is the left wing of the rebel army and that makes it
a
pace of some importance to them.
Love to all,
Edwin Rice
|
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.
Return to Top
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.
Advance
of the Army of the Potomac - Occupation of Winchester, Va. and the
Abandoned Confederate Fortifications by a Detachment of General Banks
Division of the Federal Army, Consisting of the Brigades of Generals
Hamilton and Williams. March 12th, 1862. [The skirmishers can
be seen approaching the fortifications on the left.]
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.
Return to Top
Letter
of Warren H. Freeman; The Advance to Winchester
Warren Freeman of Company A was also in the vanguard during the advance
to Winchester. He like James Ramsey of Company F, writes how
hard
it was on the poor soldiers feet during the advance.
|
WINCHESTER,
Va., March 14.
We are here at last, safe and well but a little
footsore. We did
not have the fight we expected as the rebels retreated again on our
approach to this place. We left Martinsburg last Saturday at about ten
A.M., and marched to Bunker Hill. The road was in pretty good
condition, so that it was not a very hard march. We pitched
our
tents in a grove and made all comfortable before night, though we had
nothing but “army pies,” as the boys call the ship-bread, to eat.
We remained here till Tuesday forenoon, when we
resumed our march to
Winchester. The roads now became very muddy. You have no idea
of
the traveling here in some places; the creeks, instead of being bridged
over as they are in New England, run across the roads, so that you have
to wade through them. Though the water is not very deep, yet
it
is bad for those that wear shoes. As there were so many
troops
and large baggage train, and from other causes, we only made about
eight miles this day. The rebels were hovering about us and there was
some skirmishing; we had four killed and several wounded.
Quiet a
number of prisoners were brought in by our cavalry. At night the army
encamped in a hollow with hills all around us. There were
about
6,000 men, and as every tent had a large fire in front of the opening
to the tent, it made the most splendid sight I ever beheld. At three
o’clock the next morning we were turned out, and were ready to move at
daylight. Companies A and D of our regiment were than
deployed
out as skirmishers; we were thrown forward about half a mile in advance
of the main body. The road to Winchester runs along a valley,
with hills on each side. The width of this valley, or from
hill-top to hill-top, was about two miles, and the skirmishes, about
five paces apart, extended this whole distance. We had not advanced two
miles when we came upon a very large earthwork for artillery, with a
rifle-pit nearly a quarter of a mile long in front. Now I thought we
were to have a battle. We knew before leaving Martinsburg that the
enemy were in force in this vicinity, so we closed our ranks and waited
for our regiment and the Fifth Connecticut regiment to come up. We then
marched directly up in front of the fort to within about fifty yards,
gave a yell and dashed forward into the fort; but lo ! the
rebels
had fled, leaving only some pickaxes, shovels etc., behind.
The
forward march was continued toward Winchester; a contraband came in and
informed us that the main body of the rebels had left during the
previous night. We continued our march and soon captured quite a number
of rebels who had lingered behind; they were taken by our cavalry. We
reached Winchester about noon, and entered the barracks just deserted
by the rebels. We were soon ordered out to scour the country
for
rebels; we went through fields, over fences, small streams of water,
etc., for about four miles in one hour. It was very warm, and I never
sweat so much in my life before.
Winchester is a large and beautiful town, and, you
may recollect, was
the residence of the rebel Mason; his house is among the largest in
town. Some of the houses that had been vacated by the richer classes
had their doors and windows removed so as to render them uncomfortable
to us if we had been disposed to occupy them.
Our Colonel Leonard has been appointed provost
marshal, and we are now
doing guard duty in the town. I have got a lot of trophies, but have no
way to send them home.
Soon after our arrival some of the people of the
town desired to trade
with our sutler. There is some good money left among them, and if they
are loyal to our cause we shall at once extend to them all the rights
and privileges which we enjoy.
I hope you will continue to write often; as the
distance increases
between me and home, so does the desire increase to hear from those I
hold most dear. My cold is almost well, and I am in good condition,
excepting my sore feet.
Farewell
WARREN.
|
Letter
of James Ramsey; bloody boots
Like
Waren Freeman, Ramsey had to endure excruciating pain on the
march from ill fitting army boots.
|
Winchester
Va.
March 13th 1862.
Dear Mother
 I am well as
usual with the exception of a sore heel which troubled me
but a little on the last march We started from
Bunker hill
Va day before yesterday, in the morning and marched within three miles
of Winchester where our artillery shelled a rebel
battery our cavalry captured some
rebels as it
was pretty late in the day we encamped in a piece of woods
from
which our artillery had shelled the rebels about an hour
before There fires were still
burning we had to
sleep on our arms all night, about midnight the Maryland 1st drove the
rebels from a bridge they were just going to burn
by the
way that night we heard of the evacuation of Manassas and the naval
engagement off Fortress Monroe.
Next morning we were aroused at three o’clock to
march but we did not
start till about half after 5 o clock A.M. there was about
9000.
men and 12 pieces of artillery our regiment formed
on the
left of the line of battle the New York 9th were in
the
rear of us as a reserve we had our
knapsacks
on. If we had not thought we were going to fight our way into
Winchester I should not have started at all on account of my
heel my boots galled it so, it was my left foot but
I was
to[sic]
proud to knock under so on I went, we did not march in the road
but went through fields over fences and through ditches for about two
miles when we stopped for a short rest my foot had
caused
me so much pain that I determined to lighten my load and as we were
only within a mile of the enemys entrenchments and I thought
we
would have to fight and to charge bayonets on the works double quick I
thought it would be easier for me to through[sic] away my
knapsack so I let
it slip that eased my foot some
on we marched
and did not rest again until we had mounted the enemys
entrenchments from there we marched about a mile
into
Winchester the people I think in general are glad we were
come when we got into quarters I took
of[f] my boot
and my stocking was all blood and matter it had galled me
more
than I felt it I was bound not to give up I got a
pair of
shoes and went up to the docters and he fixed it up it is
getting
along nicely I gess I never will [be] troubled that
way
again I through[sic]
the boots away and that will be the last I
will have to do with them while I am in the army. The army
shoes
are the best things to march in I ever saw.
This afternoon I went out of town on the
Charlestown road about a mile
and a half with Joe Halstrick and Charley Gardner and saw the 12th Mass
& 2nd Mass reg’ts. I saw Lon Haley Bob
Fernald and some
other boys I knew. Bob Fernald is promoted to a
corporal I am glad of it as his folks have been
rather
unlucky lately. All the boys appear to be well and on the
whole
there is good health in the regt. Now about
Winchester it
is the best place we have been in there are some handsome
residences among which is the rebel commissioner
Mason’s
the stores are all closed but now the place commences to look quite
lively we enquired the prices of some of the
articles, salt
and coffee run out long ago they have what they call rye
coffee I have not tasted any of it but some of the boys say
it is
rather mean tasted, the cook of our mess sold 7 quarts of
salt
and got a dollar and a quarter for it. I suppose I
could
have got it for a quarter at home it wasn’t none of the
best The best tea is $6.50 per pound
butter $1.50 per
pound. I was talking this evening with a boy about 14 years
old he said the rebels had told the people that the
union
solders were a set of cut throats and as they had never seen them it
was generally believed to be true he said he was
never so
much surprised when he saw us, we were perfect gentlemen and well
dressed and looked healthy. He said the rebels used to get
drunk
pretty often and get into rows they arrested a boy 10 years
old
for expressing union sentiments. Last winter the time they
marched to Romney Jackson marched them so fast and exposed
them
so that they say he lost fifteen hundred men by sickness
They say he run his men 5 miles on a stretch the
night before we
entered town but he is cornered at last so they say and I hope it is
true it will shorten the war I don’t see where the
rebels
will make a stand they have left all there strong holds and
we
are following them right up victory on victory. The night
before
we were to attack Winchester I felt prepared to die if it was
the
will of God I read my bible about every night I
have got a
little book called the “dream of Heaven” Mrs.
Halstrick
sent to me it is very interesting I must
close with
good night give my love to all
Kiss Hugh
for me.
Good night
From your son,
James
Direct, J.
F. Ramsey
Co E 13th
Regt Mass Vol
Banks
division
2d brigade
|
Return To Top
Company
D & The Train
Diary of Samuel
Derrick Webster, Company
Excerpts of
this diary (HM 48531) are used with permission from The
Huntington Library, San Marino, CA
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
Westmisnter,
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 12th
Turn out at 4 oclock – march at sunrise. 13th
as skirmishers move on to
Winchester and the rebels having vacated a bloodless victory is ours,
and the
13th 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 13th 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 14th, 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.
Clarence
Bell gives a detailed account of the train adventure below.
Return to Top
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 wa s
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.
Return to Top
Letter
of Edwin Rice, March 12, 1862
|
Winchester,
Virginia
March 12th 1862
Mother,
The rebels
took French leave last night or early this morning.
We, or rather our forces left Bunker’s Hill yesterday forenoon under
the command of General Hamilton. There were about 10,000 men besides
the cavalry and artillery, these men companions of each. We marched
slowly as our cavalry had frequent skirmishes with the rebel pickets,
of which a number were captured. We halted for the night
about 4
miles from the town and passed the night very comfortably although it
was pretty cool.
You will
probably hear the particulars of the taking of Winchester in
the papers. Our regiment was the first to get into the town.
Though the Band did not get in until about an hour after, as we had to
go with the ambulances to pick up the wounded. We did not follow the
regiment up close as they were deployed as skirmishers and went through
cornfields, wheatfields, swamps, wood lots, over fences and through
brush and ditches.
I have not
seen but one of their entrenchments or breastworks and I
should think that they would have been as safe behind a stone wall, for
we could have drove them out of it without much trouble. They were not
very high and I should think not very well made.
After we
had possession of the town our cavalry scouted around the
streets and took, I should think, about 100 stragglers of the rebel
army who did not leave with the rest.
Our
regiments are quartered in houses and are doing provost guard duty.
Some 4 or 5 regiments are encamped just out of the town. It
is
said that our regiment is going to stay here and do guard duty, but how
long, I don’t know. The band is quartered in a large, nice, brick
building which the rebels used for a general hospital. The
building was a boarding school.
There are
over 50 rooms in it. It was owned by a union man and
when the war broke out the furniture was seized by the rebels and has
been used by them ever since. They have used it very well,
too.
This town
is a great deal larger than I supposed it was. It is
very thickly settled and I should think that in good times there might
have been 6 or 7000 inhabitants. There are not a great many here
now. There are a goodly number of nice places. Take
it
altogether it is the prettiest place that I have seen since we marched
through Frederick, Maryland.
Yesterday
and today the weather has been nice and warm and very pleasant.
Am in my
usual health, and will write again tomorrow if we do not move and I
have time.
Love to
all,
Edwin Rice
P.S.
Have not received a letter from you since we left
Williamsport. Direct it to Hamilton’s Brigade, Banks Division
,
Washington, D.C.
|
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 and the 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.
Return to Top
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 29, 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.
|
WESTBORO
TRANSCRIPT
March 29, 1862
Communications
WINCHESTER, Va., March 16, 1862.
Dear Father,
- This will inform you that I am well, as usual, and also
the rest of our company. We are quartered here in the city,
but
expect to go tomorrow to camp outside. I understand that we
are
to be brigaded, and shall be under Gen. Abercrombie. Our
regiment
never has been brigaded. Our Lieut.-Col., Batchelder, is
appointed Provost marshal, and a company from each brigade is doing
provost guard duty. Gen. Banks’ head-quarters are
here. He
issued his proclamation yesterday to the citizens and soldiers, and it
is posted about in different parts of the town. It is very
severe
on the soldiers that are not up to their duty. He tells the
citizens to go on with their usual business and that they shall be
protected. There are about 50,000 soldiers and citizens in
and
about the vicinity of the town now, and I have not seen the first
drunken one yet. Senator Mason’s residence is in this
place. I went up to see it yesterday. It is a pleasant
looking
place, and stands back from the street. The 5th Conn. Regt.’s
officers are quartered in it, and they, with other soldiers, have taken
everything they can lay their hands on as relics, &c.
Some of
his negroes were living in it, but they have left it to give way to the
officers. There is a medical college in the town. I
went
into it the other day, and there was the most horrid sight that I ever
did see. In the third story lay a negro boy on a dissecting
table, with his head cut off; arms cut off at the elbow; legs cut off
at the knees, and his belly ripped open lengthways. He was
about
fourteen years of age. The day before we came into the town,
this
boy was in the streets and was very jubilant to think that the Union
troops were so near the town. A rebel soldier seeing him in
such
extacies about it, shot him dead on the spot. His body was
then
taken to this college and given to the doctors and students.
They
had the body cut up, as I have mentioned, when they had to take out
with the rebel devils (for I believe part of them to be such, judging
from stories that the people here tell of them) for they committed all
sorts of depredations on Union people, and the negroes
especially. A negro hardly dared to speak to one of
them.
They took anything and everything they wanted without paying for it, as
they didn’t pretend to keep any guard over their soldiers.
There are more negroes here than I
expected to see, and many of them
are nearly white; and as a general thing, understand the cause and
nature of the war as well as the whites, if not better. In
this
college is the skeleton of John Brown’s son who was shot at Harper’s
Ferry. It was standing in a corner of the room in good
preservation, nothing being gone but the flesh. In the cellar
there were a great many skeletons, bones, skulls, &c.
Out
soldiers cleared the building out of most everything that was of any
value, as they left their instruments, charts, books, and all
behind. There is a state lunatic hospital in town, and there
is a
large number of fine looking residences of the aristocratic blood,
nigger owners, &c.; and in this town you will find poor white
people—the poorest and most miserable and ignorant that I ever
saw. Some of the soldiers say that the residents of
North-street,
in Boston, are Christians in comparison with them. A great
many
of the people here call themselves peace men, and do not favor either
side, but if you get into conversation with them it will not do to
mention the nigger question, for if you do their temper is up, and you
will be inclined to believe that they are strong Secesh. The
negro question has been agitated so much, the last three years, that
they have got so that they fairly hate the sight of one. The
trouble is, the people at the North and those of the South, do not
understand one another. The Northern people are posted and
understand the matter. The mass of the Southern people are
ignorant, only knowing what is told them by the knowing ones.
They are not a reading people. I was talking with a man last
Friday that was in Gen. Jackson’s army a week ago, but escaped while we
were at Bunker Hill, and we agreed in almost everything relating to the
war and nigger question; and he says there is not a stronger Secesh in
the rebel army than himself. He left the army because he was
sick
and tired of living such a miserable life as they are living.
After we had talked a while I told him all the trouble is, we do not
understand one another aright; and, says he, you are right; and if the
rest of our soldiers could understand it as I now do, the war would be
over, and Jeff. Davis and others would have their necks stretched
mighty soon. This man said he was poor, and a carpenter by
trade. The war came on, business ceased, and thinking his
side
the right one, enlisted in their army. The morning we came
into
town, our cavalry came first. They saw a squad of rebel cavalry on
ahead. Our men put for them through the town. They
finally
came up with one that lagged behind the rest, and they put seven
bullets through his body. He was on a horse that he stole the
night before from a Union man.
Since writing the above we have attended services. They were held in
the square in front of the court-house. There was a large
assemblage of citizens and soldiers beside our own regt. I
don’t
know what the people thought of Mr. Gaylord, (pictured) for he
did give it to the
rebel Virginians good. I saw some awful long looking faces,
and
also some smiling ones. He told the citizens that here was a
sample of the mudsills of the North. A sample of the soldiers
that were a coming South, to burn, destroy property, ravish their
women, commit murder, and such depredations, as the Southern press has
led the people to believe. He asked the people if they had
seen
any indications of such actions or treatment amongst the Union troops
since they had been here, &c. It is
honestly a fact,
that some of the people here thought we were a set of ruffians, and
would commit all these crimes set against us, but they think
differently now. The Secesh themselves say there was no peace
for
any one while the rebel soldiers were here, and that was a long
time. Now it is quiet, no one is disturbed in any way; each
one
can express his sentiments, and no one to molest him. I think that Mr.
Gaylord was in all his glory as he stood on the court-house steps
addressing the people. I never saw him when he was so
eloquent. I think he must have forgot it was the Sabbath when
he
spoke of Senator Mason. He called him a traitor and
everything
but what was good. He told his hearers that he had draggooned
the
people of Virginia into this rebellion, and it was such as he, and his
kind, that had got the whole South drawn in. There was
something
novel about our services, considering the time, place and
circumstances. I think that Mr. Gaylord is the first chaplain
that has had an opportunity of speaking to the Virginians in such a
hot-bed of rebeldom, and so large a town as this. He told
them
the honest truth. The other chaplains, being out of town, did
not
have a chance to speak to the people. An Illinois chaplain
made
the prayer. We take a few rebel prisoners every
day. There
is any quantity of shin-plasters in circulation here and but a very few
will now pass at any rate. There are three banks in the
place,
and the money is considered as good as any in the State. Our
sutler’s checks pass the same as any of the bills here. They
are
a godsend to the people the demand for their goods exceeding the
supply. The inhabitants don’t seem to care for prices, it is
the
goods they want - a small bag of fine salt looks better to them than a
ten dollar gold piece. This state of things, however, will
not
last long, for goods will begin to come in, and prices will get
regulated after a while. But I must close for it is now 8
o’clock
in the evening, and the drum is beating the roll call.
Frank.
|
Return to Top
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 :
|
The commanding general
learns with sincere regret that officers in some
cases, from mistaken views, either tolerate or encourage depredations
upon property. This is deeply regretted. He calls
upon them
to reflect upon the destructive influences which attend such practices,
and to remember the declarations of the great master of the art of war,
that pillage is the most certain method of disorganizing and destroying
an army.
|
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 22, 1862; Death of Thomas Rathburn, Company 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.
|
WESTBORO
TRANSCRIPT
March 22, 1862
Berlin
Last Monday evening the telegraph announced to our citizens the sad
intelligence that Mr. Thomas Rathburn, of this town, and a member of
the 13th Regt., was dead, and that the corpse would be at the Clinton
depot on Tuesday evening. Our citizens were filled with grief
at
the melancholy intelligence, and were very anxious to learn the cause
of his death. The corpse came as announced, accompanied by
Mr. S.
Haynes, of Bolton, of the same regiment who had been detailed
for
the purpose of conducting it to the parents of the
deceased. It was received with all due respect by
his
friends and authorities of the town.
Funereal ceremonies will take place on Thursday under the direction of
the town authorities, with the concurrence of the friends.
The
death, we learn, was cause by typhoid fever, of five days continuance,
brought on by exposure while the army was on the march to Winchester. |
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 17; Reconaissance to Newtown
In this
letter Warren
Freeman describes in detail the action experienced during the
reconaissance to Newtown. He mistakes the name of the town as
Newton.
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WINCHESTER,
Va., March 17, 1862.
Dear Father, - I received your letter of the 9th
this noon, and will
try to improve this leisure evening in answering it. We are quite
comfortably quartered in a hall that was used by the “Independent Order
of Red Men.” There is a room up-stairs full of Indian
dresses,
masks, bows, arrows, war clubs, etc. The boys amuse
themselves by
dressing up in native costume and enacting Indian dances, sitting in
council, smoking the pipe, etc. In the same building the “Odd Fellows”
have a hall; there are also rooms occupied by the “Winchester
Virginian” printing office. This part of the building we use
for
our cook-room. I like the town very much; but it is strong
for
secession. We, however, take no notice of this. The main
streets
are quite wide, so that we have a battalion drill and dress parade
almost every day.
Last Saturday morning they took us out for a walk,
for our health I
suppose, before breakfast, of between sixteen and seventeen miles; we
were woke up at four o’clock, but did not start till
daylight. It
was a reconnaissance. We had five companies from the Thirteenth, 200
cavalry, and a battery of four Parrott guns, rifled, the whole under
command of Lieutenant-colonel Batchelder of our regiment. We
started on the Strasburg Turnpike at a stunning gait. The road was in
good condition, being very firm and hard; and as we were in light
marching order, the march was rather exhilarating. After we had
proceeded about five and a half miles, we came in sight of a company of
rebel infantry and one of cavalry, drawn up in line on the side of a
hill. Our cavalry being in front shut out a view of our other troops
from the rebels; one of our guns was unlimbered and hauled
near
to the front; when all was ready the cavalry opened right and left, and
we sent a shell whizzing amongst them. This seemed to
surprise
them, and the infantry scattered. The cavalry, being under
the
command of the noted Colonel Ashby, stood their ground; another shell
was sent, which caused them to fall back, but they were soon rallied by
their officers; a third shell threw them into confusion, and they
retreated. The reason our infantry did not engage them was
because our colonel did not wish to show his force. We followed in
pursuit for about three miles, rather cautiously, for we almost knew
the whole of Jackson’s army were encamped in the neighborhood of
Newton. On our arrival at this small village, and after we had passed
nearly through it, we saw the enemy draw up with four pieces of
artillery. A halt was immediately ordered. Soon we heard a bang, and a
shell fell 200 yards from us. Soon anther shell came whizzing past the
infantry and struck in the front yard of a large brick house, and
within less than thirty feet of some of our men. It buried itself in
the earth and then exploded, throwing the dirt all over us; the pieces
of shell flew in all directions, tearing away the fence and making sad
havoc all around; it was almost by miracle that none of our men were
killed. The villagers were terribly frightened, and fled to their
cellars for safety. As the rebels were out of range of our
rifles, we were ordered to disperse, and every man take care of
himself. Our battery was moved off into a field on our right, and soon
opened on the enemy with round shot and shell. The action was brief,
the rebels retreated as usual, and we were ordered not to pursue
them. I picked up several pieces of shell. One of the gunners
found a shell that did not explode; it buried itself in the earth
directly under his piece; he has got it now. Our colonel
could
not pursue the enemy, because we were even now beyond the point we were
ordered to reach in this reconnaissance. We were eight miles from
Winchester, which is farther than ay Union troops have yet penetrated
into Virginia in this direction.
We did not make any unnecessary stop in Newton,
but, in the midst of a
rain storm, started back in quick time and reached Winchester in two
hours, completely wet through. We had one man wounded. As to
the
rebel loss we do not know. The people here have reported that
we
brought back twenty-nine killed, and wounded to match. I mention this
that you may judge of their truthfulness in whatever relates to the
Union side. They say now that one Southerner is equal to two
northerners any day; and saying this, they really seem to believe it.
They read the rebel accounts of the battles now being fought, and will
not believer any other. They keep up their courage under the
belief that Jackson and his army will yet rout us out of this place.
My health is good. My feet have become
quite tough, and a march
of fifteen miles I do not mind. You say that no doubt I have regretted
the step I have taken in joining the army. I have not regretted it in
the least, because I believe it is in the line of my duty to my
country. It is true we are put to great hardships, and some of my
sufferings I will not attempt to describe; and then the privileges of
the city that I was in the enjoyment of, the good dinners that I daily
received at Aunt Susan’s, - these cannot be forgotten; but I
freely put them by, and fry my slice of salt pork, which, with a bit of
ship-bread, satisfies my necessary wants. While the army is
being
moved rapidly from one point to another in the enemy’s country, of
course our stores, camp equipage, etc., cannot be accessible at all
times just when needed; we must at times be deprived of some of the few
comforts which the Government furnishes. I, for one, do not
complain.
Until recently we have been in General Hamilton’s
brigade; but are now
changed to General Abercrombie’s – at least so I understand. We are
still in General Banks’s Division. The day after our return from Newton
we learned that it was fortunate we did not proceed any further in that
direction, for soon after we left General Jackson with his brigade
entered the town, in expectations of capturing our whole party.
But it is after taps and I must draw to a close. I
am rather sleepy too, so good-night.
WARREN.
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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."
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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© Brad Forbush, 2009
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