THE STORY
OF THE
Thirty Eighth Regiment
OF
MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS.

BY

GEORGE W. POWERS.

Cambridge Press:

DAKIN AND METCALF.

1866.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
GEORGE W. POWERS.
In the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

Story of the Regiment.

[Pg 1]

THE

Story of the Thirty Eighth.

CHAPTER I.

THE Thirty Eighth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers was organized in the summer of 1862, under the call, issued on the 1st of July, for three hundred thousand men to serve for three years. For a better understanding of the circumstances under which it was raised, a brief glance will be taken at the state of the country, and the feeling of the great body of the people in regard to the war. From the very beginning of the struggle, it was felt that Virginia was to be the scene of the severest conflicts; and, consequently, the movements of the Army of the Potomac had attracted a large [2] share of public interest. That army, after a series of desperate battles, and an almost incredible amount of hardships, baffled in its attempts to capture the rebel capital, was recruiting its strength at Harrison’s Landing. The Union arms had been successful at various points in the West; but the batteries of Vicksburg and of Port Hudson still kept the Mississippi sealed to the passage of national vessels. Charleston and Savannah and Mobile boastingly bade defiance to the combined efforts of army and navy; and the blockade-runners stole in and out between the ports of the Atlantic seaboard and foreign parts, supplying the enemy with the materials of war,—some of them performing their voyages with almost the regularity of packets. The Confederacy, notwithstanding its severe losses, elated at having checked a movement from which the North had anticipated so much, and their whole available resources, both of wealth and population, wielded by a few bold, determined leaders, looked confidently forward to the final success of their arms. Foreign powers talked of the Union as a thing of the past; and even in the North, there were not wanting those, who, by word and deed, gave countenance to the foes of the country, and discouraged every loyal effort.

[3]

But neither defeat, mismanagement, foreign jealousy, nor domestic treason, caused the President to swerve from his determination to restore the supremacy of the government over the whole country. Availing himself of the power granted him by the Constitution and by Congress, he had called three hundred thousand volunteers into the field for three years; and, while each State was using all its energies in raising its quota, a new call was issued on the 4th of August for three hundred thousand volunteers for nine months. In Massachusetts, it seemed at first impossible to raise this additional force without resorting to a draft. But the towns vied with each other in filling their quotas. Public meetings were held; processions, with banners, and bands of music, paraded the streets; patriotic songs were sung in the churches, and stirring appeals made from the pulpit; and liberal promises were made to care for friends left behind.

The young men of Massachusetts responded promptly to the calls upon their patriotism. Leaving their counting-rooms, workshops, and studies,—with professions and trades half-learned, and business prospects broken up,—they went into the ranks, to undergo the hardships of a soldier’s life, [4] and submit themselves to an unaccustomed and often irksome discipline.

Before the end of the year, Massachusetts had put twenty-one new regiments of infantry and several batteries into the field, beside sending a large number of recruits into all the old organizations. Among these regiments was the Thirty Eighth. Without claiming undue merit for the motives or the deeds of the members of this regiment, or exalting them at the expense of other troops, it may be said that few of them enlisted without making pecuniary sacrifices to a greater or less extent; and the local bounty of a hundred dollars did little more than provide them a comfortable outfit, and purchase the numerous articles then considered necessary for a soldier’s comfort.

The men composing the Thirty Eighth were gathered from various towns and counties; and the majority of them were brought together for the first time upon their arrival at camp. Seven of the companies rendezvoused at Camp Stanton, Lynnfield, and three (Cambridge companies) at Camp Day, in North Cambridge. Owing to this division of the regiment, a little confusion existed at first in regard to the letters by which the several companies should be designated; but [5] this matter was amicably settled upon the arrival of the regiment at Baltimore; and, in speaking of the companies in this sketch, the letters by which they were finally known will be used entirely.

Co. A was raised in Cambridgeport; Co. B, principally in East Cambridge; Co. C, in Abington; Co. D, in various towns in Plymouth County; Co. E, in Lynn; Co. F, in Cambridgeport; Co. G, in various parts of Plymouth County; Co. H, in New Bedford and Falmouth; Co. I, in Milton, Dedham, Medway, Wrentham, and other places; and Co. K represented as many as fifteen cities and towns. In nearly all the companies there were men who belonged in places not mentioned here, as will be seen by the roster appended to this sketch. Although the regiment was thus collected from various localities, harmony always prevailed. Common dangers, common sufferings, and common triumphs, drew the members more closely together as the numbers decreased; and, when the final disbandment came, all separated with the most friendly feelings.

As soon as the various town quotas were filled, they were sent into camp, and organized into companies and regiments.

The recruits for the Thirty Eighth were under [6] the command of Major D. K. Wardwell, who was commissioned lieutenant-colonel before leaving the State, and who enjoyed a high reputation for courage and practical military knowledge. Col. Ingraham, holding a commission at the time as lieutenant-colonel of the Eighteenth Massachusetts, had been commissioned for the Thirty Ninth; but was afterwards transferred to the Thirty Eighth. Upon the promotion of Major Wardwell, Capt. William L. Rodman, of Co. H, was commissioned to fill the vacancy. During the stay of the regiment at Lynnfield, many of the men were absent on furloughs, and new recruits were being constantly added, so that little progress was made in drill.

While the seven companies were thus occupied at Lynnfield, Cos. A, B, and F were being introduced to military life at Camp Day, in North Cambridge. The camp at that time was crowded with recruits for the various regiments and batteries in the field; and as the accommodations were limited, the men of the Thirty Eighth were furloughed nearly every night, reporting at sunrise in the morning.

Monday, Aug. 18, by invitation of the citizens of Cambridge, the volunteers visited that city. During the afternoon, many of the places of business [7] were closed, flags were hoisted, and a procession, composed of delegates from the military and fire departments, the Cambridge and Irving Literary Associations, the printing-offices, and police, accompanied by the city government and a numerous concourse of citizens, escorted the volunteers through the principal streets of East Cambridge and Cambridgeport to the City Hall, where an address was delivered by the mayor; and from thence to Williams Hall, where a fine collation was served.

It had been expected that Cos. A, B, and F would join the regiment at Lynnfield, before leaving the State, and orders were daily looked for to that effect. But another course was pursued by the military authorities. The companies at Lynnfield were mustered into the United States service on the 21st, at that place. On the 22d, Capt. McLaughlin mustered in the Cambridge companies at Camp Day.

When the army clothing was drawn, many amusing scenes took place. No. 1 men drew No. 4 clothing, and vice versa . If a small man complained of an undue proportion of cloth in his coat, he was pleasantly assured by the issuing officer that it would shrink. Did a stout boy feel a pinching in the arms,—it would soon stretch [8] According to the style then prevalent, the new volunteers had cut their hair very short, showing the phrenological developments distinctly; and when encased in army blue, their own mothers barely recognized them. Previously to their departure from Camp Day, the mothers, sisters, and friends of the volunteers visited the camp, armed with needles, thread, and scissors; and the dropped stitches were taken up, shaky buttons made firm, pockets inserted, and blankets bound. Each man was then furnished with a housewife, and all future repairing turned over to his clumsy fingers, probably with many misgivings.

The seven companies were furnished with arms and equipments at Lynnfield; and, during the forenoon of the 26th of August, the regimental line was formed, Lieut.-Col. Wardwell in command. The day was a hot one; and, as the men had not yet acquired the art of packing knapsacks and wearing equipments to the best advantage, many of them were prostrated by the heat. They were transported in the cars to Boston, and marched across the city to the Worcester depot, where a special train was in readiness to take them. Cos. A, B, and F, not making their appearance at the appointed time, this portion of the regiment [9] embarked at once, and proceeded on their way.

In the meantime, Camp Day was all alive. The dinner was on the fire, when the orders to march were received. Hastily packing knapsacks, the three companies were soon in line. The citizens of Cambridge had provided horse-cars to convey them to Boston; but, in the first flush of military spirit, they voted to march. The knapsacks, filled to overflowing with innumerable articles then considered essential to a soldier’s well-being, bore heavily on the backs of the new recruits; and without arms and equipments, and not fully uniformed, the column had not a very military aspect as it marched down Main Street. Dusty and tired, the halt in Cambridgeport was a welcome one; and justice was done to the collation provided by the city.

Bidding the last good-bys, and followed by the good wishes of relatives and friends, the three companies continued their march. Upon arriving in Boston, it was found that Lieut.-Col. Wardwell had already started; but, after a short delay, another train was made up, and the regiment overtaken at New London. Quarters were provided on the cabin floors of the steamer, and the blankets [10] spread for the first time. The fatigue and excitement of the day brought a good night’s rest, and every one awoke in the morning refreshed; the decks being soon covered with men, enjoying the scenery of the river, as the steamer approached New York; while, from the cottages along the banks, loyal women waved a patriotic God-speed to the volunteers.

Passing by New York, the regiment landed at Jersey City; and there being a scarcity of transportation, a portion of the regiment did not get away until afternoon. The companies from Camp Day had received no rations before leaving; and the crowd of hucksters, with which the place swarmed, reaped a rich harvest. Mr. J. C. Wellington, of Cambridge, came on with the regiment, and one company was indebted to him for a bountiful supply of hot coffee,—the first of a series of kindnesses conferred upon that company and the regiment, when in garrison and field, which made his presence always a welcome one.

While waiting at Jersey City, the famous Sixty Ninth New York arrived at the depot, on their return from their second term of service. These real soldiers, who had actually been in battle, were looked upon with much interest by the untried [11] volunteers who were on their way to the scene of action, and the contrast between the appearance of the two sets of knapsacks was a suggestive one. Taking the train vacated by the Sixty Ninth, the rear of the regiment was soon riding on after the advance. All through New Jersey, people on the roadside and in the fields cheered, while flags and handkerchiefs were waved from the houses. The men were in excellent spirits, and enlivened the journey with songs and mirth. Getting passing glimpses of Newark, Burlington, Princeton, Trenton, and other historic cities, now invested with renewed interest, and being liberally supplied with water whenever the train stopped long enough, the regiment rode through New Jersey, arriving at Camden about eight in the evening. Crossing the ferry, they were taken to the Cooper Shop Refreshment Saloon, where they partook of a bountiful collation, and were then conducted to a long row of wash-basins provided for the purpose. After the hot and dusty ride, the ablution was peculiarly refreshing, and was greatly enjoyed. Again forming in line, the regiment marched across the city to the Baltimore depot.

Although the passing of troops was now a daily occurrence, the enthusiasm of the people did not [12] abate. Ladies waved their handkerchiefs from the windows, and even grasped the hands of the passing soldiers from the doorsteps, while men crowded the sidewalks, and heartily cheered. This enthusiastic greeting will long be remembered by the survivors of that column; for it was far more cordial and earnest than the welcome given them in the capital of their own State, when after three years’ toil and battle, with thinned ranks, but with an unstained record, they again marched through the streets of Boston. Notwithstanding the great number of troops that had passed through Philadelphia that summer, the hospitality of the city never wearied. No regiment was allowed to pass uncared for; and when returning wounded and sick from the front, singly or in groups, the same kind feelings were manifested, and the warm-hearted ladies with their own hands administered the delicacies their generosity had provided. Other Northern cities cared well for the passing volunteers; but none equalled Philadelphia, whose efforts were continued as well in seasons of defeat and gloom as in those of victory and triumph.

Taking the cars after midnight, the regiment arrived at Baltimore about ten o’clock, the next day, and marched over nearly the same route taken by [13] the Massachusetts Sixth, on the 19th of April, 1861. No noisy mob appeared to dispute the passage up Pratt Street; but the sullen, averted looks of the majority of the people on the sidewalks betokened no love for the Union. A substantial dinner was furnished the regiment at the Union Relief Rooms (for Baltimore had Unionists, whose devotion to the country was as intense as was their hatred to Secession); and it was then learned, that, instead of going to Washington, and thence on to Virginia, the regiment was to occupy a camp in the vicinity of Baltimore, about to be vacated by the Thirty Seventh New York, whose term of service had expired. A march of a few miles led to the camping-ground,—a pretty place, in a grove of trees, formerly known as Druid Hill Park, then called Camp Belger. There were good facilities for bathing near the camp; while the shade-trees furnished cool retreats when off drill. On the 30th, the guns and equipments for Cos. A, B, and F were received and distributed; and the day was spent in fitting them.

On the 3d of September, Col. Ingraham arrived to take command of the regiment. The greater portion of the time was now occupied in drilling. Col. Ingraham and Lieut.-Col. Wardwell were both [14] thoroughly versed in military tactics; and the company-officers seconded their efforts in endeavoring to bring the regiment up to a high standard, in the manual of arms and in marching. Adjutant Loring kept a sharp look-out for the whereabouts of every button, and the polish of every shoe, on parade; and the surgeons enforced a strict attention to the rules of health and cleanliness in the quarters, and about the camp-ground. Thus the regiment was fairly started on its military career. What this training resulted in may perhaps be gathered from the following pages.

On the 5th of September, Co. K was detailed to guard Stuart’s hospital; and, as it marched out of the camp, its appearance showed the improvement that had already taken place in military bearing. Sept. 7, Mr. Stacy Read, arrived in the camp with parcels for the Cambridge companies, showing that the folks at home had not yet forgotten the absent ones; and as Mr. Read had manifested great interest in Co. F, that company, by unanimous vote, adopted the name of “Read Guard.”

ON the 8th of September, orders came for the regiment to pack up, and be ready to march on the following morning. Rations were cooked, ammunition dealt out, and the tents struck and packed, Co. F remaining behind to guard the camp. Owing to a mistake of the guide, the regiment marched a number of miles out of its way, causing unnecessary fatigue.

Co. F marched up the next day. Before leaving Camp Belger, this company was visited by some Union ladies from Baltimore, who regaled them with roast meat, peaches, tomatoes, and biscuits.

The new camp, called Camp Cram, was about seven miles from Baltimore, near the village of Powhattan, and in a position to guard the Liberty turnpike. The rebels were then threatening Maryland with a large force; and strict orders were issued [16] regarding vigilance on guard and picket, and the importance of keeping a sharp look-out for spies. One day, a vigilant sentinel seized a suspicious-looking personage, and brought him to the officer of the guard. He proved to be a Baltimore clergyman, and preached to the regiment the following Sunday.

The tents were pitched on a rising ground, shaded by large trees. In front of the camp, the ground sloped down to the Powhattan Creek; and the battalion drills up and down this declivity developed the muscles of the men, who were then little aware of the need they should have of good, stout limbs to carry them through the pine woods of Louisiana.

The regiment having no chaplain, religious services were performed on the Sabbath by Col. Ingraham, according to the Episcopal usage; and social religious meetings were conducted by Private Mudge, of Co. E. The Sabbath services were attended by citizens from the surrounding country, and they usually stopped to see the parade. Some of the companies had not been furnished with uniform pants in Massachusetts, and as it was a good while before any could be procured, it may be imagined that these necessary articles of apparel [17] began to show signs of wear, and it required some manœuvring on the part of line officers to get presentable men in the front rank. Any other view of the regiment on one of these parades might not have added to its reputation. When the new pants arrived, they were received with a round of cheers.

A thorough system of drills began at Camp Cram,—squad, company, battalion, and skirmish; and, at the close of those warm October days, the arbitrary “taps” fell on willing ears. The skirmish drills were conducted by Lieut.-Col. Wardwell, and were a relief to the monotony of the battalion and company drill.

The subject of a band had been agitated in the regiment from the time of their first going into camp; and measures had been taken to procure instruments. They were received during the last week in September, and the band made their first appearance on parade, Saturday, Sept. 27. This attraction drew an increased number of visitors from the surrounding country, especially on the Sabbath; and the camp was enlivened by the presence of country dames, in their holiday attire, who, during the week, had done a thriving business in selling pies and apple-butter to the soldiers. Co. [18] K, in the meantime, having performed the duty required of them very acceptably, had returned to the regiment, with an improvement in drill which caused increased emulation among the other companies, and raised the standard of military acquirements still higher in the command.

While the Thirty Eighth were thus acquiring proficiency in drill, and inuring themselves to life in the open air, stirring scenes were being enacted within cannon sound. The distant boom of the guns at Antietam were heard in camp; and orders were looked for every day, which would send the regiment to the front. One gallant Massachusetts regiment (the Thirty Fifth), that had left the State but a few days previous to the Thirty Eighth, had already been in the thick of the fight, and had lost heavily.

In a few weeks, the tide of war again rolled northwards, and the troops of Stonewall threatened Pennsylvania. On the 11th of October, the Thirty Eighth received orders to be ready to move the next day. Tired of the monotony of camp-life, the news was received joyously; and the camp rang with the shouts of those to whom the unknown perils of the battle-field had a strange fascination. Far into the night, busy hands were [19] at work packing knapsacks; and many an article which kind but inexperienced friends at home had considered indispensable to their soldier-boy’s comfort was left behind.

Early Sunday morning, Oct. 12, the regiment broke camp, and began the march toward Baltimore. No one would have recognized this body of drilled soldiers, with neatly packed knapsacks, marching with steady step and closed ranks, as the procession of awkward recruits who passed through the same streets less than six weeks previously; and in after times, when disease and battle had reduced them to a remnant, the survivors of the column looked sadly back in memory upon that October morning, when the long line followed its commander over the Maryland hills.

Marching through the city of Baltimore, the regiment took the cars for Chambersburg, but had not proceeded a mile, when the orders were countermanded, the train called back, and the troops disembarked. Quarters were procured in the machine-shops for the night; and the next morning, after breakfasting at the Union Relief Rooms, the regiment marched to Camp Emory, on the outskirts of the city, on property owned by the relatives of Charles Carroll, of Revolutionary fame. [20] The One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York had been encamped on a part of the ground, but had gone to Chambersburg, leaving a lofty flagstaff and a pile of boards for tent-floors, both of which were appropriated at once by the Thirty Eighth; but upon the return of the former regiment, the flagstaff was returned, and a loftier one procured, which was afterwards transferred to the One Hundred and Fiftieth New York.

The old routine of drill was now resumed. Col. Emory commanded the division to which the Thirty Eighth was assigned; and the men here first saw the stout old soldier who afterwards became such a favorite leader.

On the 28th of October, an order came from Gen. Wool for one company to go to Baltimore on special service. Co. F went through the city on the double-quick, with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets; but their services were not required, and they came back to camp rather disgusted at having added nothing new to the fame of the regiment. It was rumored in the camp, that some one had insulted the hostler of a general, and a squadron of cavalry and a body of infantry were ordered out to avenge it.

While at Camp Emory, the regiment received a [21] visit from the Rev. Mr. Ware, of Cambridge, a gentleman who always manifested great interest in its welfare, and whose kindness will long be remembered by its members.

In this camp, the companies drilled daily in “reversed arms,” for the purpose of attending the funeral of some officer who had died, or was expected to die. But their services were never called for; and it became one of the regimental legends that the officer had refused to die upon hearing that the Thirty Eighth were drilling for the purpose of burying him.

Toward the end of October, the weather began to get cool, and every one looked uneasily forward to a winter in tents in Maryland; but as a new well was almost completed, and a new guard-house begun, the men still had hopes of getting away. Col. Ingraham was now acting brigade-commander, and Lieut.-Col. Wardwell in command of the regiment; and brigade and division drills took place several times a week.

During the first week in November, marching orders were received, and preparations were made to embark on ocean transports; but the regiment did not break camp until Sunday, the 9th. A few days previous, there had been a severe snow-storm, [22] which would have done honor to Massachusetts; and every one was eager to get into a warmer climate. Just before the cold weather, Mr. Wellington, of Cambridge, had visited the camp, and furnished each of the members of Co. F with a pair of gloves, a present from Mr. Stacy Read. The band of the One Hundred and Fiftieth New York escorted the regiment through the streets of Baltimore to the Union Relief Rooms, where a good meal was furnished them. Quarters for the night were found in unoccupied houses; and the next day the regiment was taken down Chesapeake Bay in small steamers, and transferred to the steamship Baltic, which had been selected by Gen. Emory as his flag-ship. The ship stopped a short time off Annapolis to take on board two companies of the One Hundred and Thirty First New York, and then proceeded to Fortress Monroe, arriving at Hampton Roads on the morning of the 8th.

The victories of Farragut had not yet added their brilliant record to the achievements of our navy; and the scene of the little “Monitor’s” victory, and of the “Cumberland’s” glorious death, was eagerly studied, while one of the officers, who had been an eye-witness to the engagement, related the story to a group of interested listeners.

[23]

For nearly a month, the regiment remained on shipboard at Hampton Roads, occasionally going on shore to practice target-shooting and to drill. An amusing incident occurred at this time, the memory of which will bring a smile to many a face. There had been no facilities for washing clothes since leaving Camp Emory, and the regiment had not yet roughed it long enough to become accustomed to dirt; so one day, when it was announced that the knapsacks were to be taken on shore, and an opportunity given to wash clothes in fresh water, soap became in demand, and all anticipated one more cleaning up before going into the field. A tiresome march through the streets of Old Point Comfort, by the “contraband” village rising around the chimneys of ruined Hampton, brought the regiment to the vicinity of a creek; and soon the bank was lined with busy washers. But the soap furnished by Uncle Samuel had no effect upon the dirt contracted on his transports. Suddenly some one discovered that the creek was a salt-water one. The washing fever subsided, and the regiment went back wiser, but very little cleaner.

Day after day slipped by, and still there was no movement. On the 18th of the month, the regiment [24] received their first visit from the paymaster, being paid off on the deck of the ship. The companies changed quarters more than once on board the “Baltic,” and had the opportunity to test the comparative hardness of nearly all the beams in the ship. It required skill in gymnastics to go from the bunks to the deck without coming in contact with some animate or inanimate body.

Thanksgiving Day found the regiment still at anchor, waiting . The men went on shore in the morning, and had the liberty of the beach and of the sutlers’ stores until afternoon. Many had received “boxes” from home; and turkeys and puddings graced impromptu tables, spread on the beach, the fresh sea-breeze giving a flavor superior to any gravy. Those whose boxes did not arrive in time picked up a dinner in private houses, saloons, and at the counters of the sutlers, who were liberally patronized, and who long remembered the Thirty Eighth.

At length, the “horses came on board,” and the signs of departure seemed to multiply. Lieut.-Col. Wardwell resigned before the regiment left Fortress Monroe; and his resignation was accepted, to take effect from Dec. 3. Major Rodman succeeded to the vacant lieutenant-colonelcy, to date [25] from Dec. 4; and Capt. Richardson, of Co. A, was promoted major. The two companies of the One Hundred and Thirty First had been transferred to another ship, and the Thirty Eighth had the Baltic to themselves.

THURSDAY morning, Dec. 8, everything was astir in Hampton Roads. Important little tug-boats sputtered and whistled; quartermasters’ boats brought off their last supplies of fresh bread and meat; and tardy officers joined their regiments. About nine o’clock, A. M. , the Atlantic weighed anchor, and led the way to sea, followed, at intervals, by the Ericcsson, the Spaulding, the Arago, the Pocahontas, and others of the fleet. Slowly steaming between Fortress Monroe and the Rips Raps, their decks covered with troops, and their flags blowing out clear in the fresh breeze, the ships presented a fine sight. About four o’clock, the Baltic weighed anchor, and followed the fleet, the gun-boat Augusta bringing up the rear, as convoy. Of course, the destination was the great theme, and rumors [27] flew thick and fast, but nothing definite was learned.

The weather was very beautiful; and the men thronged the deck, reading, writing, and watching the movements of the strange fishes and birds which occasionally made their appearance. There was comparatively little sea-sickness, and the general health of the regiment was good. The cooking facilities were poor. The galley, in which coffee was boiled, and salt-beef cooked for a thousand men, was of the smallest proportions; and those who went through that voyage have a vivid remembrance of “big Charlie” bending over the meat-boiler. Notwithstanding the inconveniences, there was little grumbling; and the division commander expressed himself well pleased at the orderly conduct of the men. Charleston, Pensacola, and Mobile were passed, and still the ship kept on her course. At length, the appearance of a large fleet, hovering around a low island, told that the destination was reached. The place of rendezvous proved to be Ship Island, much to the disgust of the regiment, who had conceived a strong dislike against this place. In truth, it looked as if a large wave might wash the whole concern, with its military storehouses and fort, into the Gulf of Mexico. [28] Here it was learned that New Orleans was the destination; and, as the Baltic drew too much water to cross the bar off the mouth of the Mississippi, the Thirty Eighth had to land on the island, and await the return of some of the lighter draft transports. Part of the regiment disembarked on the evening of the 13th, and the remainder followed the next day; glad enough to be once more on terra firma, if this sand-bank could be so denominated. Although near midwinter, the temperature was mild; and the beach was soon covered with bathers, enjoying the luxury of a good plunge in the water after such a long sea-service. There was no chance to be dirty while here. Tin dippers and plates shone with a lustre that would have excited the admiration of a Knickerbocker housewife; and the muskets were bright and polished. The sand was everywhere, and must have assisted the stomach wonderfully in digesting the antediluvian hard-tack occasionally issued.

There was a good deal of fatigue work to do here, unloading stores, and transporting ammunition; and even the drilling through the sand was unusually fatiguing. At this time, there was a number of political prisoners on the island, rendering service to the government, and strengthening [29] their own muscles, by pounding stones. Some of them had been prominent citizens in New Orleans, and had been banished to this place, by order of Gen. Butler, for acts of disloyalty to the Union. The soldiers of the Thirty Eighth looked upon these persons as “the right men in the right place,” and cordially endorsed the policy of “Old Ben.”

A number of the larger transports had been unable to cross the bar; and the island was dotted with canvas villages. Drilling was resumed by the various regiments, and prosecuted vigorously, although the marching in the sand was fatiguing. Christmas was now near at hand. On the evening of the 23d, after brigade drill, the colonel addressed the regiment briefly, stating that they would probably spend Christmas there, and that he wished them to enjoy the day as well as they could under the circumstances. The camp was to be given up to the regiment from ten o’clock, A. M. , till “tattoo;” they were to elect their own field, staff, and line officers; make their own camp-regulations, and hold the regimental officers to a strict observance of them, punishing any violation of them with confinement in the guard-house. The men entered into the proposal with spirit. [30] Committees were appointed from the different companies, line officers elected; and the camp scoured for materials with which to get up a mock parade. Santa Claus did not make his appearance. The jolly old saint, in his fur cap, would have been sadly out of place in that sunny clime. One poor fellow, in a fit of absent-mindedness, hung up his stocking in his tent, but indignantly rejected the idea that the army pastry found therein was from the old friend of his boyhood. He thought the other “Nick” had more dealings with the commissary department. The day opened with a good breakfast of baked beans. After breakfast, the regiment was drawn up around the colonel’s tent, when the Christmas service of the Episcopal Church was read by Col. Ingraham, the band and a volunteer choir assisting in making the service interesting. The camp was then “turned over” to the regiment, the colonel holding the power in reserve to check the proceedings if they became disorderly. The regular guard being relieved, a new guard and police detail was at once made out, selected from the ranks of the commissioned and non-commissioned officers. In the forenoon, a burlesque dress-parade took place, which furnished much amusement to all concerned; [31] and, considering the limited materials on the island, was quite successful. The series of orders read by the adjutant’s clerk were slightly personal, and good-humoredly embodied the complaints of the men against certain obnoxious changes in the drill, and regarding other regimental matters. During the day, the officers were nearly all under arrest for some violation of the “orders of the day.” One Timothy Ingraham was taken to the guard-house for attempting to leave camp without a pass. Giving a satisfactory excuse, he was released. Other officers were not as fortunate; and some of them worked out the penalty of their offences with the shovel. The Christmas dinner consisted of a bountiful supply of salt-beef and hard-tack, washed down with cold water. The afternoon was spent in rambling over the island, each one enjoying himself in his own way. About five o’clock, a dress-parade took place, conducted exclusively by enlisted men, each company doing its best to make the parade creditable. The officers loaned their uniforms for the occasion to those selected to command the regiment and companies; and they acknowledged that the reputation for drill which the regiment enjoyed at this time did not suffer during the temporary [32] transfer of authority. During the evening, some amusing courts-martial took place; but, as it is not the purpose of the writer of this sketch to “tell tales out of school,” the mere mention of it will be sufficient to bring the scene before the minds of those who participated in the events of the day. “Tattoo” dissolved the spell. The companies fell in for roll-call, the guard went on again, and shortly after nine o’clock, the lights were all out, and perfect quiet reigned in the camp. Nothing occurred during the entire day to mar the peacefulness of the festival. There had been no quarrelling, no drunkenness, and no infraction of military rule.

On the evening of the 28th, the long-looked for transports made their appearance. There was an immediate inspection of knapsacks; but personal property had dwindled down to a small compass, and there were few articles to be left behind. The cooks were busy all night preparing rations; and orders were given to be ready to start at ten in the morning. At noon, the tents were struck; but there being a large amount of commissary stores to put on board, the regiment did not embark till midnight; those not on duty grouped around the camp-fires, “laying up sleep” for the future. [33] As the regiment marched to the wharf, the band played “Yankee Doodle,” bringing many of Gen. Butler’s protegés to the doors and windows of their quarters. Embarking on the transport Northern Light,—a large California packet-steamer, much better adapted to convey troops comfortably than the majority of government vessels,—the men gladly sought their canvas-bottom bunks; and about sunrise, on the morning of the 30th, the steamship weighed anchor, and steered for New Orleans. Although the residence on the island had not been an unpleasant one, none were sorry to see its outlines fade in the distance, or wished to revisit it. On the morning of the 31st, the ship crossed the bar, and entered the Mississippi; few on board then anticipating the long months that were to pass before their eyes would be gladdened by the sight of the blue water again. The sail up the Mississippi on this last day of the year was an interesting one to Northern eyes. The large plantations of corn and cane, dotted over with negroes, looking like so many charred stumps on a partially cleared field; the orange-trees laden with fruit; the mansions of the wealthy planters, half hidden by fresh-looking shrubbery; the rows of neat, white-washed negro cabins; the tall chimneys of [34] the sugar-mills in the rear; with the back-ground of forest-trees, gray with the Spanish moss,—formed a picture in striking contrast to the winter-scenery the northern-bred volunteers had been accustomed to.

Two sunken gun-boats near Forts Philip and Jackson reminded the Thirty Eighth that they were in the same department with “old Farragut,” and that, in any co-operation between the land and sea forces, the army would have to look to its laurels. On the way up the river, another transport was passed, containing the Forty Seventh Massachusetts; and the two regiments exchanged friendly greetings. Being the last day of the month, the regular inspection and muster took place on the deck of the steamer; and, to show the good health of the regiment on entering the Department of the Gulf, it may be stated that one company, which left Boston over four months previously with ninety-five enlisted men, mustered ninety-one for inspection,—four having been left behind, sick, at Fortress Monroe.

A little after dark, the long line of lights was seen glimmering on the river-edge, marking the outlines of New Orleans. The steamer cast anchor in the stream near the upper part of the [35] city; and the deck was soon deserted by all except the guard, who paced their beats, “watching” the old year out, and the new year in.

At noon, the ship steamed up the river to Carrollton, one of the suburban towns of New Orleans, where the regiment landed. It was the first day of January; but the orange-trees were in bloom, the roses perfumed the air, and the vegetables were growing vigorously. This was the “Sunny South” indeed. The new camp had at one time been occupied by rebel troops, and was well adapted for drilling. On one side of the Thirty Eighth, the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York were encamped, and, on the other side, the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth; beyond which, were the Forty Seventh Massachusetts. Between the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Sixteenth, a friendship sprung up, which lasted during the entire term of service; and although the One Hundred and Sixteenth were soon transferred to another brigade, and afterward to another division, whenever the two regiments met on a campaign, friendly greetings were exchanged; and this, notwithstanding the fact that they were rivals, each aspiring to take the lead in drill and efficiency.

[36]

While at Carrollton, Col. Ingraham took command of a brigade, and never rejoined the regiment. He participated in the first part of the Tèche campaign; but, being unable to endure field service in the climate of Louisiana, was appointed Provost Marshal at Washington, in which position he gave such satisfaction that he was retained in service by special order after the regiment was mustered out, and brevetted as brigadier-general. A few days after arriving at Carrollton, the regiment experienced its first Louisiana rain-storm. The camp-ground was soon intersected by miniature bayous; and, as the drains were not in good order, some of the streets were completely flooded; while the tents, being old, afforded but little shelter from the storm. The company streets, after one of these winter-rains, were like so many mortar-beds. Much has been written about the Virginia mud, in connection with the Army of the Potomac; but, if it equalled that of Louisiana, the face of the country in that part of Virginia must have been greatly changed by the movements of the armies; and the mixing of soil will afford matter for study for future agriculturists. As soon as the regiment was fairly settled in camp, drills were resumed with vigor. During the stay on Ship Island, the [37] manual of arms had been changed: the old system was now restored, much to the satisfaction of the men. On the 6th of the month, Gen. Banks, accompanied by Gens. T. W. Sherman and Emory, visited the camp. The regiment was engaged in battalion drill, at the time; and, as the visitors approached, were drawn up into line to receive them. Then, the Thirty Eighth, as far as regarded appearance, were in their prime. Disease had not yet thinned the ranks; four months’ drill, under competent field and line officers, had brought them to a high standard in the manual of arms and in battalion movements; Adjutant Loring had paid particular attention to the personal neatness of the men; and the men were not yet discouraged by those gloomy accounts which afterward came from the North, showing a want of faith in the ability of the army to put down the rebellion, and an unwillingness to strengthen it by reinforcements of good men. As spring drew near, the camp was full of rumors in regard to the coming campaign; and three days’ rations were kept cooked most of the time.

At midnight, on the 11th, sudden orders came to “fall in” for sixty rounds of cartridges each; to pack knapsacks, and put two days’ rations in the [38] haversacks. It was rumored that the rebels operating up the river had been largely reinforced by troops from Richmond, under Longstreet, and that the Thirty Eighth were to join the main body of the Army of the Gulf. The knapsacks were to be packed, and left behind, and the camp left standing, the troops going into the field in light marching order. After waiting until the middle of the forenoon, the orders were countermanded, the extra cartridges returned, and drill resumed.

On the 24th of January, the Thirty First Massachusetts, Col. Gooding, who had been doing duty at the forts, arrived, and went into camp near the Thirty Eighth, Col. Gooding taking command of the brigade. At this time, brick ovens were built in the camp, and the regiment had their baked beans regularly Sunday mornings.

During the first week in February, the division drilled together at Camp Parapet, near Carrollton. On the 3d, the One Hundred and Sixteenth struck tents, and marched off in the direction of Baton Rouge; and, in a few days, their camp was occupied by the Fifty Third Massachusetts,—a nine-months’ regiment, who were in the third brigade until their term of service expired.

[39]

On the morning of the 10th of February, the knapsacks were again packed preparatory to a move; but the tents were left standing, and the camp put in charge of the light-duty men, of which there were then a large number.

When the regiment first arrived at Carrollton, the general health was unusually good; but the change in the water, the dampness of the low land, and the frequent guard-duty had made their mark, and thinned the ranks.

It was nearly dark before the regiment embarked on the first of the numerous river-boats with which they afterward became so familiar. A thick fog came up during the night; and, in the morning, the boat was found to be snugly moored to the river-bank, near a large plantation, the mansion-house being then occupied as a signal-station; but the fog cleared up during the forenoon, and the boat proceeded on her voyage. The sail was a pleasant one, and was greatly enjoyed; and, as the river had risen since the arrival of the regiment at New Orleans, it presented a nobler appearance than at that time. Plantation after plantation stretched along the banks, on both sides of the river; but few of them showed any signs of activity. The residences of many of the planters [40] indicated taste and refinement; and, in some instances, the negro cabins had a very attractive and picturesque appearance. These plantations may have belonged to men of the St. Clare school; but no Evas were seen sporting among the roses, or Uncle Toms “keeping an eye on things.” During the afternoon, Jefferson College was passed, and, still later, a large convent, prettily situated near the river, with grounds tastefully laid out. About midnight, the boat arrived at Plaquemine, an old-fashioned, dilapidated looking town, but which is said to have been a thriving place before the rebellion, when the Mississippi was covered with steamers, and the products of the cotton and cane-fields were filling the coffers of the plantation princes. The few citizens who remained had evidently not lost their hope of the ultimate success of the South; for Confederate paper was worth half as much as greenbacks.

Sunday afternoon, Feb. 15, the Louisiana Belle arrived at Plaquemine, having on board Gen. Emory and staff; and she was soon followed by another boat, with the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York, and Col. Ingraham and staff. A gun-boat started with them, but broke down on the way, and put back for repairs. A portion of the [41] Thirty Eighth being on the upper deck of the transport, and exposed to the weather, quarters were procured for Cos. C and F in unoccupied houses on shore. It was after dark when they landed, and raining hard. The mud was knee-deep in the streets, and the night pitchy dark. After floundering along for half an hour or more, it turned out that the guide had lost his way, and the two companies had to countermarch, and retrace their steps part of the way. In after times, many a laugh was had over the misfortunes of that night; but, at the time, Mr. Webster and Mr. Worcester would have been astonished at the capabilities of the English language in furnishing expletives. Finally, the house that had been selected for quarters was found; and all except the unlucky guards were soon oblivious of the mishaps of military life. Afterward, several of the remaining companies were transferred to quarters in the town.

The regiment drilled, as usual, at Plaquemine; and the men often wondered when that lazy soldier-life they had heard so much about was going to begin; for, hitherto, with drill, guard-duty, fatigue, and rifle-cleaning, they barely had time to answer their letters from home.

In the meantime, the gun-boat had arrived; and [42] a number of men acquainted with boat-service had been detailed from the regiment, and sent up the Bayou Plaquemine in launches, on a reconnoitring expedition. While awaiting the return of the boats, the sugar-houses in the vicinity were visited, and candy-making became the order of the evenings. In the succeeding months, the molasses-candy expedition was often recalled, and its incidents talked of over the camp and picket fires.

The reconnoitring party returned with the information that the bayou was completely obstructed by piles and immense drifts of logs, and that it would be impossible to force a passage through. In consequence of this report, the troops again embarked, and the transport headed down the river, reaching the landing at Carrollton at six o’clock on the evening of the 19th. In the morning, the march was taken up for Camp Kearney, where everything was found in order, although the camp bore evidence of having been pretty well flooded by the rains of the previous week. A mail had arrived during the absence of the regiment, and it had been sent up the river, to the disappointment of every one. Numerous absurd rumors concerning disaster to the regiment had been brought down the river, and one had found its way [43] into the New Orleans papers, to the effect that nine companies of the Thirty Eighth had been captured. Acting upon this information, the sutler had packed up his wares, and gone to another regiment, concluding that his chances of money-making in the Thirty Eighth were at an end.

Immediately upon arriving in camp again, the tents were struck, and the floors taken up, that the sun might dry up the dampness. On Sunday, Feb. 22, divine service was performed in the camp by Col. Ingraham, the band, and a select choir from the ranks, assisting; and the day was further honored by the firing of a national salute from Camp Parapet.

On the 26th, by the advice of the surgeon, the regiment were to have “a rest, not more than three hundred men having come out the day before for battalion drill;” but in the afternoon, however, an order came from brigade head-quarters for the regiment to have skirmish drill. Capt. Rundlet, being in command at the time, deployed the left wing as skirmishers, drilling them especially in the movement of “lying down;” the right wing, in the meantime, remaining in reserve. This order did not increase the popularity of the brigade commander. On the last day of the month, the [44] regiment was again mustered for pay. On that day, also, a number of boxes reached camp, which had been sent to the regiment when at Fortress Monroe. They had been intended for Thanksgiving, but did not reach their destination until the fleet had sailed; and three months’ confinement had reduced the turkeys and chickens to skeletons, and the puddings and pies had not increased in flavor.

During the month, the regiment lost several valuable members from disease. On the 3d, Orderly Sergt. Samuel J. Gore, of Co. E, died of typhoid fever, and was buried under arms; and on the 4th, Sergt. Charles A. Howard, of Co. A, died of the same disease. Sergt. Howard received a commission as lieutenant in another regiment a day or two before he died. On the 3d of March, the Sergeant-major, Walter W. Nourse, added another to the list from this fatal disease. Sergt. Nourse came out as 1st Sergt. of Co. F, and was the pet of that company, as well as a favorite with the whole regiment. Resolutions expressive of their sympathy were forwarded by Co. F to his bereaved friends; and they also testified their respect for their comrade, by having his body embalmed, and sent home, where imposing funeral obsequies took [45] place upon its arrival, and touching tributes to his memory were published in the newspapers.

During the first week in March, a regimental well was dug; and marching orders were at once expected, for, hitherto, these events had followed each other in close order; and the rule was not now to be broken. On the 4th, the cooks had orders to cook rations. The next day, drill was dispensed with, and orders were issued to pack knapsacks, and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Somewhat experienced in marching orders, the men made themselves quite easy over it, not expecting to get away for several days. Consequently, they were taken completely by surprise to hear the “assembly” just after dark, followed immediately by the “orderly’s call” and the “officers’ call;” and there was quite a hubbub in the camp. At first, there was supposed to be trouble in New Orleans; and the men were elated at the prospect of having something to do. That morning, one company had brought out but twenty-eight men for drill,—thirty-five reporting sick, and a number being detailed,—but, in a few minutes after the assembly was heard, sixty men were in line, equipped for active service; and the same spirit was shown in all the other companies. It [46] was soon learned that the duty to be performed was near home, and was not relished so well. There had been some trouble in the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New York; the men refusing to go on the campaign until they were paid, they not having received any money since their enlistment. Their camp was surrounded by the other regiments of the brigade with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets; but, after a short address from the brigade commander, the men of the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth returned to duty, and the Thirty Eighth and the other regiments were released from their unpleasant task.

The next morning opened with a drizzling rain. At noon, orders were given to strike the tents on one side of the company streets, and put the knapsacks in those of the other side; and this was barely done, when the rain began to pour in torrents, and continued to do so for the remainder of the day. Three days’ rations were put in the haversacks, and all the regimental baggage packed. The One Hundred and Seventy Fifth had started in the morning; and the Fifty Third broke camp in the midst of the rain, and marched to the levee; but the Thirty Eighth lingered until evening, when orders came to strike all the remaining [47] tents, and take the baggage to the cars, which passed near the camp. The mud grew deeper and deeper, as the men wallowed through it; and, as the night was very dark, it was a difficult task to keep in the track. A large detail had been sent to store the baggage on board of the transports, and there were so many on the sick-list that it took the remainder nearly all night to load the cars. The few hours before morning were spent around the camp-fires; and, at sunrise, the regiment marched to the levee, stacked arms on the sidewalk opposite, and proceeded to put the remainder of the baggage, quartermaster’s stores, &c., on board of the St. Mary’s. It was a very carnival of mud; and soon every one was coated with it. About noon, the regiment embarked; and tired, sleepy, muddy, and packed like sardines, the men coiled themselves up in all shapes, and slept soundly in the hot sun. The boat arrived at Baton Rouge the next morning, and found the river full of gun-boats, mortar-boats, and transports; and signs that the campaign was about to open were everywhere apparent. Landing on the levee, the Thirty Eighth marched through the streets of the old capital of Louisiana to the Theatre Building, where they were quartered. [48] Although the climate and the unwholesome water had begun to do its work, the regiment was still comparatively strong, some companies taking near seventy men into the field; and the long rows of stacked muskets on the floor of the Theatre had a martial look, and spoke of work in the future.

BATON ROUGE was alive with troops, belonging to every branch of the service. Staff-officers and orderlies were galloping through the town; quartermasters and commissaries were full of business; and flags were waving continually from the signal-towers. A few citizens were to be seen in the streets, grim and sullen; but they were almost lost amid the blue-coats. The Thirty Eighth had orders to pack their dress-coats, and all other articles except blankets, overcoats, and a change of clothing. Old soldiers may smile at this idea of “light-marching order;” but the men had not yet learned how little baggage was necessary for comfort and health.

Wednesday, March 11, the iron-clad Essex, so famous in the annals of Mississippi warfare, arrived at Baton Rouge, and was inspected with [50] much interest by the troops. This boat was the wonder and delight of the contraband population; and amusing stories were told of the effect produced upon both black and white Southerners, when she first made her appearance before the city. Another examination was made in the division now, and the sick men, and those unable to endure the fatigue of field service, were sent to the hospital, and the command stripped to its marching and fighting material.

Shelter-tents were issued on the 11th; and during the first march, everybody carried tent-pins, with which to pitch them; and this in a densely wooded country. The Thirty Eighth were proficient in the manual of arms, and could go through battalion movements creditably; but they were not yet soldiers. On the 12th, the division was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory, accompanied by a large and brilliant staff, Admiral Farragut being present, and the centre of attraction. Although the knapsacks had been reduced somewhat, the addition of the shelter-tents, and twenty extra rounds of cartridges, made the load fall heavy enough to be on the back from eight in the morning till one in the afternoon, when the review closed. The force on the field consisted of [51] thirteen regiments of infantry, three batteries, and several companies of cavalry; and the review took place on the old battle-field of Baton Rouge, near the spot where Gen. Williams was killed, the marks of the bullets then fired being still visible on the trees and fence-posts.

While at Baton Rouge, an order was issued by Gen. Banks, very complimentary to the Thirty Eighth. After a severe rebuke of the manner in which the officers of certain regiments had performed their duties, as shown by the reports of the Inspector-General, the order went on to say: “The Commanding General cannot forbear pointing to the marked contrast indicated in the same reports concerning the condition of the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts and the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York Volunteers, enlisted at about the same time; but carried, by the zeal and laudable ambition of their officers, beyond the reach of this pernicious influence.”

Although very flattering to officers and men, it was afterward thought that this order did not contribute much to the comfort of the regiment when under the control of brigade officers whose own commands were thus unfavorably contrasted with it. At six o’clock, on the evening of the 13th, [52] orders came to fall in; and the line was formed in front of the Theatre. Being on the left, the Thirty Eighth remained in line while the division moved by; and cheers were exchanged, as the various regiments which had been connected with the Thirty Eighth passed, the One Hundred and Sixteenth being loudly greeted. When the time came for the regiment to move, Gen. Dudley, whose quarters were opposite, addressed it in a few words, concluding with, “Men of the Thirty Eighth, keep cool, obey orders, and fire low.”

After leaving the city, and passing through the camps of Dudley’s Brigade, which formed the reserve, and which was not to move until the next day, the road led through dense woods, where the vines and creeping-plants wove the forest into an almost impenetrable barrier, which shut out every ray of light. The column made slow progress, and the innumerable halts were as tiresome as the marching; but about midnight, the bugles sounded a halt, and the army went into camp for the night in a corn-field. When the rear of the column reached the camp, the field was ablaze with camp-fires, and the fumes of the coffee were rising in the air. Up to this time, the company cook had done all the cooking, but each man had now to prepare [53] his own rations, or go without. Upon going into camp, the troops were informed that the plantation belonged to a “Union man,” and that they were only to take the “top rails” for fires. This order became a standing one in the Nineteenth Corps, and, during the campaign, they made it a point to take only the top rails, as they found them . The men were too weary to pitch the new shelter-tents; and rolling their blankets round them, all except the camp and picket guard were soon asleep. The reveillé was beaten at two o’clock, and an early breakfast cooked. By this time, the “top rails” were more accessible than on going into camp.

At daylight, the march was resumed. The day proved to be a hot one; and the roadside was soon strown with blankets, overcoats, knapsacks, and other articles thrown away by the regiments in advance. It was apparent that the army was rapidly coming down to light-marching order. Contrabands hung on the flank and rear, picking up the cast-off garments. Some of the men, not yet having made up their minds to part with their overcoats, cut off the sleeves and skirts to lighten their loads. After marching about eleven miles, the column halted and went into camp in a cane-field, [54] and stacked arms, a picket being thrown out. The sun came down hot, and the shelter-tents were found to be convenient. Toward night, the sound of heavy guns was heard in the vicinity of Port Hudson, and the cannonading continued through the night, while the shells from the gun-boats could be plainly seen bursting over the fort. The reveillé was beaten at four o’clock. The firing at Port Hudson had ceased; but a large mass of flame, which had been supposed to be some portion of the enemy’s works, set on fire by the guns from the fleet, began to move slowly down the river, accompanied, at intervals, by explosions. All eyes were fixed on the mysterious light, and many gloomy forebodings indulged in. Had Farragut been defeated, and the fleet been destroyed by some infernal machine? Or was this one of the marine abortions of the enemy, committing suicide? Suddenly, at daylight, the mass of fire seemed to leap high in the air, followed by a dense column of smoke. The spectators waited in breathless suspense, for a few seconds, for the explosion. Soon it came; and then every sleeper started to his feet. Orders were issued to put out all fires, and for every one to be equipped, and ready for action at a moment’s notice. It was the [55] general opinion that there would be a brush with the enemy, if not a pitched battle; and the men were quiet, but determined. But the morning wore away without an alarm; and, at ten o’clock, the line was formed, and the column headed for Baton Rouge, in which direction the wagon-train had already moved. The troops were in ill-humor, the whole movement seeming incomprehensible to them. Soon an aide from the commander-in-chief rode up to Col. Gooding with an order, requesting him to announce to the third brigade that the “Hartford” and the “Albatross” had passed the batteries of Port Hudson, and that “the object of the expedition had been accomplished.” Gradually, the men recovered their accustomed spirits; and when Gen. Banks rode by the column he was heartily cheered. On the march back, the carcasses in the fields showed that the reserve brigade had been “living on the country.” The pontoon bridge was reached before night, but was not crossed, the brigade marching into the woods near the road, where they stacked arms and pitched tents. Soon after dark, it began to rain heavily, and the camping-ground became a swamp, while the water came through the new shelters, leaving few dry soldiers in camp that night. The next [56] day, at noon, another expedition was undertaken. The roads were in a bad condition, and, in many places, it was necessary to go in single file, to escape being mired. After a four-mile march, a halt was made in a clearing, where the command remained during the night, ready to spring to arms at a moment’s notice, and, the next day, marched back to the bayou.

Friday, the line was again formed, and the brigade marched into Baton Rouge, and through the city to a magnolia grove, a mile beyond. The place was alive with mosquitoes, wood-ticks, and similar insects, and the nimble lizards glided about, making themselves familiar; but the men were too weary to study natural history, and were soon sleeping soundly, in spite of such annoyances. The next day was devoted to bathing, washing clothes, and resting. On Sunday morning (22d), the regiment started again; and, after marching through all the swamps, cane-fields, and hedges, bounding that part of the town, halted in one of the most forbidding looking spots in Baton Rouge, about a mile from the river, near the “Perkins Road.” A camp was laid out, company streets staked off, and fatigue parties detailed to clear away the rubbish, dig up the stumps, and fill the [57] bog-holes. The tents were pitched just in time to afford partial shelter from a rain-storm. The men at this time had the impression that Sunday was the day especially selected in the Nineteenth Army Corps, on which to begin new movements, or do extra fatigue duty. In a day or two, the regimental and company baggage that had been packed was returned, and the A tents again pitched.

Saturday, March 29th, the regiment took its turn at chopping down the forests in the vicinity of Baton Rouge, so that the guns from the fort might have a free range, in case of an attack from the enemy. Some could use the axe professionally; and all tried their hands on the lofty oaks, beeches, and magnolias, whose fall resounded through the forest, until the sound of the recall, at four o’clock, when the regiment returned to camp, tired, but in great good-humor. Drill was resumed, and the old routine of camp duties began; but this did not last long, however; for the first day of April found the regiment on board of a transport, again steaming down the Mississippi. Landing at Algiers (opposite the city of New Orleans), a new camp was laid out, the tents again pitched, and drilling went on as usual. Regiments continued to arrive [58] every day; and soon the plains of Algiers were white with the tents of Emory’s division.

Here, for the first time since its organization, the regimental camp-guard was dispensed with, and the men allowed a little liberty to look around, and see the country they were fighting for. That they did not abuse the confidence thus reposed in them by their officers, may be inferred from the fact, that no regimental guard was placed around the Thirty Eighth after that time; and when other regiments were confined to strict camp-limits, Lieut.-Col. Richardson allowed his command, when off duty, to roam anywhere within sound of the bugle, and, when stationed near a town or city, freely gave leave of absence when it did not conflict with orders from higher authorities.

At this time, the Forty Seventh Massachusetts was doing garrison duty in New Orleans, and, having many acquaintances in the Thirty Eighth, visited them often. The contrast between the nicely-fitting, home-made uniforms of the Forty Seventh boys, and the shoddy affairs furnished by the contractors to the Thirty Eighth, was a source of much amusement to the members of the latter regiment. In the field, clothing was a matter of [59] little importance; but when a haversack strap or a knapsack buckle broke at the beginning of a long march, or the sole came off a shoe at a slight stumble, which very often happened, the comments on the patriotism of those who provided for the wants of the army were more expressive than elegant.

Although New Orleans and Algiers had been in the Union hands for over a year, the feeling was still bitter toward the North. The following incident will illustrate this feeling. The day before Easter, the writer of this sketch had a few hours of leisure, and was strolling through the streets looking at the objects of interest, when, passing a small church, the sound of Easter hymns floated out on the air. Not having been inside of a church for many months, the sweet music brought memories of home to the mind; and, stepping noiselessly inside, he stood near the door, listening respectfully. The choir was engaged in a rehearsal, under the direction of a gentleman whose white cravat and clerical air bespoke the minister. Suddenly, the singers caught sight of the blue uniform, and the music instantly ceased. Upon following the direction of their glances, the clergyman cast what he evidently intended to be a withering [60] look on the unwelcome spectator. A silence of a few moments ensued, when the soldier asked if he was intruding. “Yes,” was the reply, in a very curt tone. Apologizing for the unintentional intrusion, the visitor retreated, followed to the door by the chivalrous clergyman, who probably took precautions to prevent his choir from being shocked by the presence of any more blue uniforms, while singing the anthems of “Peace on earth, and good will to men.”

Labor being scarce in Algiers, several regiments were called upon to furnish fatigue parties to assist in raising a gun-boat on the ways in the dry-dock; and, on the 8th of April, the Thirty Eighth took their turn, and completed the task.

The regimental baggage was again packed away; and all personal property, with the exception of a rubber blanket, overcoat, and change of clothing to each man, was packed in the knapsacks, and nailed up in large boxes; and at two o’clock, on the morning of the 9th, the reveillé woke the sleeping camp, the tents were struck, and, by seven o’clock, the regiment was on board of the cars, bound for the interior of Louisiana. For eighty miles, the road ran through a low, swampy country. The ditches beside the embankment on [61] which the track was laid were full of alligators, who swam lazily through the green, stagnant waters, or basked in the sun on the banks; nearly every floating log or stick was tenanted by a repulsive water-moccasin; and frogs of huge proportions plumped into the water as the train went by. These specimens of the animate life of Louisiana were regarded with much interest by the regiment, as they were to be intimate neighbors, possibly, in the future.

The line of road was guarded by New York and Connecticut regiments; and their post did not appear to be an enviable one. A little after noon, the train arrived at Brashear City. The place was full of troops; and others were continually arriving in the cars or on foot, and crossing the bay to Berwick City. The Thirty Eighth formed in line, the sick-call was blown, and another examination held; and all those who were considered unable to keep up with the column were kept behind, to do light guard-duty. Some who had been foremost in every duty were left here, much to their regret. After waiting for an hour or two, the regiment embarked on the gun-boat “Clinton,” and was transported across Berwick Bay to Berwick City, accompanied by Gen. [62] Banks and staff, and the shelter-tents pitched in a level field, where the clover was ankle-deep. A large force was collected here, the troops of Emory’s division being joined to the veterans of Weitzel, who had already achieved victory in this vicinity.

ON the 11th of April, the division broke camp, and moved out on the main road toward Centreville; the gun-boats shelling the woods from the bayou, and the cavalry scouting in advance. Co. F was detached, and ordered to remain behind to guard a bridge on the line of the railroad, to prevent raids on the rear, while the army moved on.

The rebels were reported to be in large force near Pattersonville, under the command of Gen. Dick Taylor, determined to stop the advance of the Union troops through this portion of the Confederacy; and they were reported to have erected strong fortifications at Camp Bisland.

After a dusty march over the turnpike, feeling its way along, the army went into camp beyond Pattersonville; and soon the camp-fires were blazing for miles around, lighting up the country, and [64] giving the enemy warning of the approach of the Union forces.

Co. F remained in its position, crouching behind the brakes, and occasionally throwing sticks at the alligators in the ditches, and all the while keeping a sharp look-out for the rebel pickets ahead, until four o’clock, when it crossed the bridge, and struck out for the army. Just beyond the bridge, a letter was picked up, addressed to a woman in Texas, and bearing Confederate postage-stamps. It purported to have been written on picket that day, and gave a statement of the number of Confederate troops in the vicinity, with some account of the movements of the Union forces. It was well written, but had probably been dropped on purpose, with the intention of misleading. Night found the company marching through the woods, the rebel picket-posts by the roadside giving evidence of having been occupied quite recently. No one in the company was acquainted with the road; and the chances were even of bringing up in either camp; but the orders were peremptory to join the regiment in the evening. After a march of several hours, sometimes by the flank, sometimes in single file, through ditches, hedges, and swamps, the camp-fires of an army appeared in sight. [65] Doubtful whether it were friend or foe, Captain Rundlet sent out reconnoiterers, who soon ascertained that all was right, and the company marched into the camp of the Second Rhode Island Cavalry. The regiment was a mile further on, encamped in a cane-field, beyond Pattersonville.

The owner of the plantation had fled; but many of the negroes still remained, and were soon at work making corn-cakes for the soldiers, out of massa’s meal.

About noon, the army advanced in line of battle. The march was through a cane-field, the canes still standing; and, as they grew thick and strong, it became difficult to keep a proper line. The batteries were moving up to the front, shelling the woods as they advanced; and a rifle-shot would be occasionally heard. After marching in this manner for two miles, the regiment halted for several hours, the cannonading still continuing. Between three and four o’clock, it was announced that the fighting was over for the day, and the march was resumed; but it was suddenly stopped by the breaking out afresh of the artillery fire. Laying on the ground, in cover of the standing cane, the regiment witnessed a sharp artillery engagement. [66] A large sugar-mill had been set on fire, and the flames soon spread to the surrounding cabins. The bursting of the shells, the volumes of flame and smoke issuing from the mill, the sharp crack of the rifle, the galloping of aides over the field with orders, and the bayonets glistening over the tops of the canes, as the brigades manœuvred over the field, was a new experience to the Thirty Eighth. The firing lasted about an hour, gradually ceasing as the batteries fell back; the position of the enemy having been ascertained, and the object of the reconnoissance accomplished. Fires were not allowed, and the men went without their coffee for the first time. Equipments were kept on, and the regiment bivouacked in rear of the stacks. In the evening, a call was made for sharpshooters, to pick off the gunners of the Diana, in case she should come down the bayou; and the number required reported at once. There was no alarm during the night; and, in the morning, the army again moved forward. A bridge had been thrown across the bayou; and the third brigade crossed over, a rebel shell occasionally dropping into the water, near the bridge, sending up the spray, and facilitating the passage of the troops, who wished to do their fighting on firmer footing than the swaying bridge [67] afforded. The artillery were at work on both sides, and it was evident that the long-expected battle was about to take place. While the brigade was getting into line, after having crossed the stream, Gens. Banks and Emory passed, and were enthusiastically greeted. Marching up the road, the brigade filed into a cane-field, in front of a portion of the rebel works. The Thirty First Massachusetts were in advance, the Thirty Eighth following, with the Fifty Third Massachusetts in the rear; and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York were sent toward the woods on the right. The cane-field was intersected with broad, deep ditches, now entirely dry, and their sides lined with blackberry bushes. The Thirty First deployed, and moved forward in a skirmish-line part way across the field, until within gunshot of the enemy, when they halted in one of the ditches, and began to fire, the rebels occasionally returning the shots, from behind the breastworks. The Thirty First retained their position during the forenoon, losing two or three men, who were carried to the rear past the Thirty Eighth, which remained in reserve, picking blackberries, watching the fight, and getting their ears accustomed to the shrieking of the shells, and the discharges of [68] musketry. The One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, in the meantime, were gradually working their way into the woods on the right flank. The heavy firing on the left of the bayou told that the other brigades were also at work.

While Gen. Emory’s division and Weitzel’s brigade were confronting the enemy, and engaging their attention, Gen. Grover’s division, which had crossed the country through the La Fourche district, was endeavoring to come in their rear, and thus, by enclosing them between the two portions of the army, cut off all retreat, and compel the surrender of the entire force. Having this programme in view, it had not been the policy of Gen. Banks to bring on a decisive engagement until Grover was ready to “close up the bag.”

At noon, the ammunition of the Thirty First being exhausted, it was relieved by the Thirty Eighth. This position was occupied but a short time, when the order was given to advance. Keeping the exact distance they had been taught in the drill, in a well-dressed skirmish-line, the men moved steadily toward the breastworks. The right companies soon began to receive shots from the woods; but were instructed not to fire in that direction, as the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth held [69] the position. Obeying orders, they reserved their fire until the rebel gunners were plainly visible working the batteries. A piece of cane had been left standing near the line of earthworks; and, just before the advance reached its cover, the rebels opened a rapid fire of artillery and musketry. The skirmishers were ordered to lie down, while the shells and bullets screamed and whistled over their heads. But they were not long inactive. Taking advantage of stumps, ditches, furrows, and canes, they poured a rapid fire into the enemy’s works. The gunners were picked off; and the traditional “officer on the white horse” was made an especial target. While the right was more exposed to the enemy’s rifles, the centre and left suffered from their artillery, the colors being a prominent mark. Color-corporal Trow, of Co. D, was instantly killed by a solid shot; and Cos. A and G suffered particularly from shells. By one of these explosions, Capt. Gault, of the former company, had his leg badly shattered, and died in a few hours; and a number of men were wounded.

The battle lasted all day on both sides of the bayou. As evening drew near, the ammunition of the Thirty Eighth gave out. Many men had fired all their cartridges, and were trying to borrow [70] from their more economical comrades. The wounded had been taken to the rear, and attended to in the field hospital. And now the Fifty Third came forward, and relieved the Thirty Eighth, who fell slowly back under fire, till they reached the place selected as quarters for the night,—a deep, dry ditch, near the centre of the field. Of course, no fires were allowed, and supper was made of hard-tack and water.

Partly filling the ditch with dry canes, and wrapping their blankets around them, with the guns of the First Maine Battery beating the tattoo a few yards in their rear, the men laid down, their rifles by their side, and their equipments on, ready to fall in line at the first call. Contrary to expectation, there was no alarm during the night. In the morning, a portion of the field was searched for missing men. Thomas W. Hevey, of Co. I, was brought in, dead, the stem of his pipe firmly fixed in his teeth. He was smoking when struck by the fatal bullet, and fell on his face. During the engagement, six had been killed and thirty wounded, a complete list of whom will be found in another portion of the work.

Fires were now allowed to be built, and coffee made, after which the regiment moved forward in [71] line. The Fifty Third had remained all night in the front, and its flags were seen near the works, the regiment advancing in line of battle. The Thirty First was also moving on. All was quiet behind the earthworks; and soon the report came that the enemy had evacuated their position during the night, and were in full retreat, three miles ahead. At this time, Gen. Grover was supposed by the men to have cut off all retreat, and the army was in excellent spirits at the anticipated bagging of the whole force; but it was soon learned that a hole had been left, and the slippery foe had wriggled out of it. Crossing the cane-field, the Thirty Eighth entered the rebel works. The killed and wounded men had been removed; but the dead horses scattered about gave evidence of the accuracy of the aim of the brigade in this its maiden fight. The camp-fires were still smouldering inside of the works; and the remains of the hasty breakfast of roasted ears of corn gave proof that the rebels had not been long gone. Skirmishing a short distance through the woods beyond the fortifications, and finding no enemy, the line was again formed, and the brigade moved by the flank along the road, until further progress was stopped by a bayou, the bridge over which had been partially [72] burned, and was still smoking. Here an abandoned caisson was fished out of the stream, the first trophy of the victory. The pioneers soon repaired the bridge, and the column passed over, and halted a few hours, while the artillery and the wagon-train were brought across.

It was a long, weary march that Gen. Dick Taylor led the Army of the Gulf through this country of bayous and plantations. Had there been a respectable cavalry force in the department, but few of those who fought behind the fortifications of Bisland would have reached Alexandria; but the delay caused in repairing bridges prevented the Union army from coming up with its foes, and the majority of them escaped, although completely demoralized, and deprived of the power of acting on the offensive for several months.

An amusing incident occurred just after the march was resumed. A man, apparently dressed in gray uniform, was seen running across a corn-field, toward the woods. Although many hundred yards off, a number of rifles were instantly levelled at him, and the minies went whistling on their errand. He hesitated for a moment, and then started on again, when another discharge took place, and the dust was seen to fly near the [73] mark. Making frantic signals, he faced about, and came toward the road. A nearer inspection proved him to be a harmless contraband, in the usual plantation suit. The fighting of the day before had given the boys a liking for the sound of their Enfields; and probably every gun in the regiment would have been discharged if the fugitive had not halted. The poor fellow, no doubt, came to the conclusion that the “day of jubilo” had not yet come.

The heat was intense during the day, and the men suffered a good deal from the dust and from thirst, many falling out. But the commanding general wished to give the enemy no time to throw up intrenchments. Barely halting long enough for a hasty lunch at noon, the column pushed on. A little while after dark, the brigade passed through the pretty town of Franklin, and went into camp in a cane-field. No one thought of pitching tents, or of cooking coffee. Eating a few hard-tack, and washing it down with bayou water, each man (except the unfortunate guard) selected as level a furrow as convenient, spread his rubber, and was soon enjoying a well-earned rest. Just as the men had settled themselves for the night, the commissary sergeant came around [74] with the information that fresh meat was ready. It was left on the ground for the benefit of the plantation hands who swarmed in the rear of the army.

Wednesday morning, April 18, the column moved at six o’clock, the Thirty Eighth on the right of the brigade, making the marching a little easier than on the day before. The country through which the army was now passing, known as the Tèche district, was considered the richest part of Louisiana previous to the war. Unable to get their crops to market, the sugar and cotton-houses were filled to overflowing. Large herds of cattle fed in the pastures, and the woods were full of hogs. Nearly all of the able-bodied young men were in the Confederate army; and, at the approach of the Union troops, the old planters fled to the woods in many instances, and hid until the column had passed by. No Northern soldiers had been seen in that country before; and the long lines of infantry, the numerous batteries, and the immense wagon-trains, were a source of never-ending wonder to the crowds of slaves, who flocked to the roadsides and climbed the fences to see Massa Linkum’s boys. “Bress de Lord! We’se been lookin’ for ye dese twenty [75] years, and ye’re come at last!” exclaimed one well-developed old lady, who, clothed in a very short dress, very full pants, and a broad plantation hat, had mounted on a high rail-fence to get a good look at the Yankee soldiers. These poor people had little means with which to gratify their desires to serve those whom they looked upon as friends; yet many of them baked their last mess of meal into corn-cake for the hungry soldiers. The few white men that were seen in this region had the appearance of having just thrown the musket aside, with the intention of resuming it again as soon as the army passed, and before the sun-marks should fade from their faces.

On many of the houses, English and French flags were flying; the inmates thinking their property might be more secure by claiming foreign protection. During the entire march, private property was respected to a degree never before shown by an army in an enemy’s country; and guards were placed over many of the houses of prominent rebels. It is true that less regard was shown to the occupants of a poorer class of houses; and the immense number of contrabands attached to the Army of the Gulf, in the capacity of officers’ servants, were not very scrupulous, and generally [76] came into camp at night pretty well laden with poultry and vegetables; but, as their labor had produced these articles, perhaps they were entitled to them. An indiscriminate liberty to forage would have been fatal to the efficiency of the army, and might have defeated the object of the campaign. Thus, while there was comparatively little foraging carried on, these foreign flags were no safeguard. If an unlucky chicken or pig had happened in the way, he would have been gobbled up, if he had borne the private mark of Victoria or Napoleon.

Thursday night, the army went into camp before dark, beyond the village of Indian Bend. The country hitherto had been perfectly level, and, previous to the war, was mostly devoted to the culture of sugar; but, in accordance with the advice of the Confederate leaders, many of the plantations were now planted with corn.

On Friday, the aspect of the country changed, and rolling prairies succeeded to the low plains. Herds of cattle roamed over these prairies; the view of which caused some lively comments on the starving-out theory indulged in by some of the good people at home. Saturday, April 18, the entire force rested. It had been a full week since leaving Berwick City; and the troops had [77] been marching or fighting continuously, sleeping nearly every night with their equipments on. In addition to this, each regiment furnished its proportion of the picket; and, after a march of from twenty to thirty miles, those detailed had to sling their bundles again, go off half a mile or a mile into the woods, and keep awake part of the night, peering into the darkness, and making their supper of hard-tack and water. It may, perhaps, be imagined how welcome this day of rest was to both man and beast, under these circumstances.

A fine head of cattle was confiscated here; and a large portion of the day spent in feasting. In fact, there was no lack of fresh meat during the entire march through this country; but, as it was brought into camp generally after the men had quartered for the night, little of it was cooked. And then this was the first year in the field, and that experience had not been acquired which makes the difference between raw recruits and veterans.

Sunday morning, the 19th, the army was again in motion. The line was just forming, when the clouds opened, and the rain and hail came down in a manner peculiar to Louisiana. In a few minutes, every one was wet to the skin; and, in this state, a long day’s march began. The cavalry and [78] artillery cut up the roads, so that the infantry went into the soft mud to the ankles at every step. During the day, the army marched through the village of Lafayetteville, in which nearly every house had a white rag hung out as a token of peace. These people had heard such stories of the Union army, that they looked upon its approach with terror and apprehension; but the men who enlisted in ’61 and ’62 were no desperadoes, and did not make war on women and children. That night, the brigade encamped on a piece of grassland, and found it much preferable to the usual cane-field furrows. Starting again in the morning (April 20), a wide, shallow stream was reached, which had to be forded. The horses went over first, making numerous holes in the soft bottom; and it was an amusing sight to see the infantry feel their way cautiously along, half sliding, half walking, some unfortunate individual occasionally missing his footing, and plunging headlong into the muddy stream.

About four o’clock, P. M. , the bugles sounded a halt, and an aide rode down from the front with an order to the effect, that Opelousas, the Confederate capital of the State, had surrendered unconditionally. This important announcement was received [79] with cheers; the ranks closed up; the colors were unfurled; the drums beat; and, with a proud step, the column marched on. Passing a few scattering houses, the open country was again reached, when the inquiries became numerous as to the whereabouts of the capital. It was learned that the army had marched through one of the principal streets. This was not the first time they had been deceived by an imposing name bestowed upon a handful of buildings; but it was hardly worth while to make a parade of surrendering this little clearing, if the travelling government of the State did make a transient stay there.

TAYLOR’S force had by this time become completely demoralized and broken up, and a portion of it captured; there was no longer any fear of its assuming the offensive; and the army remained in camp until the 5th of May, while plans were being matured for the continuance of the campaign. Great inconvenience was experienced here from the scarcity of wood and water. Beginning with the nearest fences, the cooks and their assistants had gradually laid bare the fields beyond the picket-line. A muddy pond near the camp furnished a portion of the water, until the horses refused to drink it, when the men gave it up, and brought water from the wells, at a great distance. While laying here, long trains of wagons daily passed in sight of the camp, laden with cotton; and many of the volunteers, who had been accustomed [81] to think for themselves, and still held that privilege in reserve, were of the opinion, that if the teams had been employed, under regularly organized fatigue parties, in bringing sweet potatoes and other vegetables into the camps, a more efficient force might have been taken to Port Hudson, and the country better served than in collecting cotton, even for its own benefit.

During the halt at Opelousas, a series of complimentary orders were read to the troops on parade, from Gens. Banks, Emory, and the brigade commander, Col. Gooding, congratulating them on their success, and expressing confidence in the successful prosecution of the campaign.

On the 24th, the division was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory. The first brigade (Col. Ingraham’s) had been broken up, and the regiments composing it stationed at the various important posts between Brashear and Opelousas; so that there were present only eleven regiments of infantry, two batteries, and some squadrons of cavalry. The Fourth Wisconsin made its first appearance at this review as cavalry. Mounted on horses and mules of every description, with most primitive and unique equipments, it excited considerable merriment, and gave little promise of the [82] great reputation it afterwards attained,—the pride of the Army of the Gulf, and the terror of the rebels of Louisiana.

At this time, an order was issued by the brigade commander, forbidding officers to address the men as “boys,” saying that they were men in every sense of the word, and should be so styled at all times. The “boys” laughed at this new idea: the custom was too deep-seated in the service to be eradicated by a brigade order. The mails did not reach the regiment very often; and there were all kinds of rumors in regard to matters in the world outside. The announcement of the fall of Charleston was received with mingled cheers and expressions of doubt.

Monday night, May 4, an order was read on parade, announcing the arrival at Baton Rouge of a cavalry force under Col. Grierson, after a successful raid through the State of Mississippi. The news of this achievement was received with pleasure by the Army of the Gulf, as showing that the heavy drain on the fighting men of the South had begun to show itself by the defenceless state of that portion of the Confederacy away from the immediate vicinity of the chief rebel armies.

There was but little drilling at Opelousas, the intense [83] heat during the greater part of the time, making officers and men alike glad to seek the shade. Capt. Doten, of Co. G, resigned his commission at this time, and made a farewell address to the regiment before taking his leave. On the 30th, the regiment was mustered for pay; and Tuesday morning, the 5th of May, found it again on the march. Passing through the little town of Washington, about six miles from Opelousas, the route lay through a rich cotton and sugar section; but the greater portion of the land was now planted with corn, the rebels having learned that Cotton was no longer king. Marching for miles through these immense fields of corn, growing rapidly under the Louisiana sun, the men of the Thirty Eighth were amused at the ponderous articles which occasionally reached them in some of the Northern journals, demonstrating how easy it would be to starve the South into submission.

The roads began to be very dusty, and oftentimes the water was poor and scarce; but the army kept on its way, day after day, the men dragging themselves into camp at night, with blistered feet, and too tired to cook the fresh meat regularly issued. For four days, this forced marching was continued, barely stopping long [84] enough at noon to boil a dipper of coffee. On the 8th of May, when a few miles from Alexandria, news came, that the gun-boats of Admiral Porter had reached that town, and that it was in possession of the navy. After a long halt at noon, the regiments unrolled their flags, the bands uncovered their instruments, and the army marched into the town in good order, to music which had become strange to this portion of the Union, and which was heard by the residents with no emotions of pleasure. The faces of the citizens wore that same expression of mingled bitterness and curiosity that had been noticed in Franklin, Opelousas, and Washington; and even the little children seemed to think it no pageant in which they should take delight. Marching through the town, the brigade went into camp on a level grass-plat, near the banks of the Red River.

By order of Gen. Emory, drills were dispensed with at Alexandria, and “every opportunity given the men to recover from the fatigues of the recent march, and prepare for the active duties still before them.” The river was alive with bathers daily; and its banks were lined with busy washermen. Gun-boats and transports steamed up and down the river, giving a lively appearance to the [85] place; but business, other than military and naval, was stagnant.

On the 14th, marching orders were received. The reveillé was beaten at two o’clock, A. M. , the next morning (Friday); but the Thirty Eighth having the position of rear-guard, did not move until daylight. There had been heavy showers the day previous, turning the dust into mud, and the progress was slow. Still twenty miles were made, the army going into camp occupied by them on the upward march, on the banks of a bayou.

The next morning, the third brigade had the centre of the column, and the marching was easier. The old road was followed as far as the village of Cheneyville, when the route changed, and the army turned again toward the Red River. That night, the regiment camped in a cane-field near a large sugar-mill, stored with more than one year’s crop. The troops were liberally supplied with sugar by order of the division commander, the neighboring fields supplied adventurous foragers with new potatoes, and the plantation ditches were full of ripe blackberries; so that, with the fresh meat issued by the quartermaster, the regiment fared unusually well, and long remembered the bivouac by the old mill.

[86]

A short march was made the next day, the army going into camp at nine o’clock, near Simmsport, on the Atchafalaya River. There, to the great joy of every one, a large mail, both of letters and papers, was received; and the regiment once more learned how the world outside was moving. Tuesday morning, May 19, the troops were ferried across the Atchafalaya, and encamped on the other side, with the expectation of remaining several days; but Thursday morning saw the inevitable “orderly” ride into camp, and the column was again in motion.

For the past month, the weather had been rapidly growing warmer, the roads more dusty, and the swamp and bayou water on the line of march more unpalatable; and the regiment parted with regret from the clear Atchafalaya, with its green, shady banks, and its beautiful scenery.

A portion of the country in this vicinity having been flooded by breaks in the levee, the progress was slow; the artillery and wagons being obliged to go on top of the embankment raised to keep back the waters of the Old River,—a former bed of the Mississippi. The regiment went into camp about dark, in a woods, beyond a small town, and starting again at daylight, during the forenoon [87] reached the Mississippi, at Morganza Bend. De Soto and his Spaniards greeted the mighty river with no more enthusiasm on its discovery than did the dusty and thirsty Army of the Gulf when it once more came in view. Its muddy waters were eagerly sipped, and the canteens filled for future use.

AT Morganza, the army found transports awaiting to take it across the river. A sail of fourteen miles brought the steamers to Bayou Sara, where the troops were disembarked, and rations issued. This village had seen fit to harbor the guerillas, who, from their ambush, had fired alike on vessels of war and peaceful river-boats; and it bore the marks of the prompt punishment inflicted by the gun-boats. Solitary chimneys arose from heaps of rubbish which marked the spots where once houses and places of business had rested secure under the old flag; and a general air of lifelessness and decay pervaded the place.

The regiment had scarcely begun the ascent of the steep bluff overlooking the village, when one of the sudden storms peculiar to the Valley of the Mississippi, broke over them; and in a few minutes [89] they were not only wet through, but the deep red soil was so saturated, that marching became almost impossible. Passing through the village of St. Francisville, the brigade encamped at night near a cotton-press, and built huge fires, around which the men grouped till partially dry; the picket detail, however, going to their posts wet and supperless, but without complaint.

The next morning, upon the arrival of Mack’s Black Horse Battery (Eighteenth New York), the column moved toward Port Hudson. The road was bordered on each side by a high hedge, which shut out all air, and made the heat very oppressive; and it was gratifying, upon emerging into the open country, to find a broad, shallow stream, with a clean, pebbly bottom directly in the line of march. It was easily forded by the infantry, but the artillery and wagons caused some delay. While waiting for the batteries to cross the stream, a body of cavalry rode by, which proved to be the famed command of Col. Grierson, whose great raid through Mississippi was the forerunner of the exploits of Sheridan, Stoneman, and Kilpatrick. Gen. Banks and staff also rode by; and the cheering news was announced that a connection had been made with the division of Gen. Augur, which had marched up [90] from Baton Rouge, and that Port Hudson was completely surrounded, and its fall a matter of time only.

Sunday, May 24, the regiment enjoyed a rest, merely changing camp once. On the 25th, the Thirty Eighth leaving the brigade, marched to Sandy Creek, on the extreme right of the line; and several of the companies deployed as skirmishers near the creek, the enemy firing across the stream from the opposite side. In this skirmish, two men were killed, and two wounded.

In the afternoon, two native Louisiana regiments arrived at the creek; and the Thirty Eighth had an opportunity to witness the behavior of the first colored troops under fire in this war. A great deal of romance has been spoken and printed about this affair; but, without wishing to detract in the least from the really valuable services rendered by the colored troops during the siege, especially in the engineer’s department, it may be doubted if the exaggerated accounts of their bravery were of any real benefit to the “colored boys in blue.”

It had been the fashion for so long a time to decry the courage of the colored man, and deny him all the attributes of manhood, that, when he proved himself something more than a beast of burden, [91] public opinion went to the opposite extreme; and men who had been for years boasting of the superiority of the Northern over the Southern races, and quoting all history to prove it, now asserted that this new freedman was the equal, if not the superior, of the Northern volunteer. It was even reported that Gen. Banks had said that the colored soldiers went where the white ones dared not go; and although this was an improbable story, it injured the general’s popularity, and increased the prejudice already existing against the colored troops in the Thirteenth and Nineteenth Corps.

The regiment remained near Sandy Creek during the next day, supporting the battery, while the colored regiments were at work building a bridge. On the night of the 26th, there were two alarms, caused by the stampeding of mules; and the Thirty Eighth received a volley from one of the colored regiments, who thought the enemy were making a cavalry raid; but, owing to the high range taken, the bullets whistled harmlessly over head, and the panic soon subsided.

During the Tèche campaign, Co. E had held the honorable position of head-quarter guard for Gen. Emory, and had seldom encamped near the regiment; but upon the withdrawal of that general to [92] New Orleans, the company returned to its proper position in the Thirty Eighth, and shared in all the labors of the siege.

Wednesday morning, the regiment received orders to join its brigade, which had been engaged, farther on the left, in driving the enemy from the woods, and into his works. The Thirty First had been prominent in this skirmishing, and had lost a number of men.

The battle began early on the morning of the 27th; and as the Thirty Eighth drew near the front, on the double-quick, the wounded men were already being carried to the rear, and the surgeons of the various regiments were arranging their instruments on the temporary tables put up in the fields, not entirely out of reach of wandering shells. The sight of the glittering instruments was suggestive; but there was no time for foreboding.

While the Thirty Eighth was hunting in the woods for the brigade, Gen. Paine rode up, and sent it forward to support Duryea’s Battery, which he had just placed in position on the edge of the woods, in front of the rebel works. Taking cover in rear of the guns, the regiment awaited events, having enthusiastically promised Gen. Paine to stand by the battery at all hazards.

[93]

The artillery directed a heavy fire upon the fortifications from various points, dismounting cannon, and blowing up caissons; the skirmishers had worked their way up to the ditch in front of the breastworks, and were seen running up the embankment; and the fire from the enemy had almost ceased. It was generally believed that the outer line of works had been abandoned; and the regiment, issuing from the rear of the battery, formed in line of battle, and charged on the double-quick; but, on account of the ravines and fallen timber on each side of the roadway, the line of battle could not be maintained, and the order was given, “by the right flank,” which movement was immediately executed. Another regiment was in advance, and through some misapprehension, did not go forward, causing the two commands to be mixed up, the colors being nearly side by side.

By this time, the breastworks were fully manned, and a volley of musketry met the advancing column; but there was no hesitation, when, to the surprise of the regiment, the order came to “lie down.” Accustomed to obey orders promptly, the men dropped at once, some in the roadway, others in the ravines to the right and left. And now the enemy had it all their own way. Safe behind their [94] works, they took deliberate aim at every man in that exposed position who showed signs of life. Lieut. Col. Rodman, rising to give or receive an order, was struck in the breast by a bullet, and fell lifeless, the command then devolving upon Capt. Wyman, of Co. B. For hours, the men in the roadway remained beneath the scorching sun, suffering for want of water, and knowing that the least movement would be the signal for a death-messenger from the enemy; yet, notwithstanding the constant artillery and musketry fire, men slept soundly at times. During the afternoon, the dry brush and trees in the ravines took fire, adding to the intense heat, and driving portions of the troops to seek new cover. The assault on other portions of the line had been equally unsuccessful, and the casualties still larger, an unusual number of commanding officers being among the killed; but the ground was held; and, before night, the men had acquired such a knowledge of the position, and availed themselves so thoroughly of every advantage afforded by the ravines, that it was unsafe for a rebel to show his head above the breastworks.

The casualties in the Thirty Eighth had been few, considering the severe fire to which it was exposed; and the rebels must have discharged [95] their muskets at random. There had been three killed and fourteen wounded.

The regiment remained on the field through the night, the dead and wounded having been taken to the rear before dark. A few extracts from letters written at the time, may perhaps give a better idea of the events that transpired within the following week, with the impressions of the men, the rumors, etc., than any more formal account:

“Thursday, May, 28.... The rebels opened fire this morning from their batteries, and ours replied, blowing up a caisson of ammunition inside of the works. A flag of truce was put up soon after, and the firing ceased. Both sides have been burying the dead this forenoon; and we have been lying in the ravine, near the works, the sun coming down hot. The truce will be up at two o’clock, I believe, when the battle will probably begin again.

“Friday morning, 29th. The flag of truce was up till seven o’clock last night. There was perfect quiet along the entire line; and officers and men were scattered over the field, looking for the dead and wounded, and gazing at the works in front of us. Two companies of the One Hundred and Sixtieth New York were in the ditch in front of the works; and the rebels occasionally looked over, [96] and chatted with them. We understood that the long truce was on account of some negotiations; the rebels offering to surrender the place if allowed to march out with military honors. These terms were not accepted, and the truce was to terminate at seven. Just before that hour, we received orders to keep under cover, as the battle was to commence as soon as the flags were withdrawn. We watched the little white signals closely. Ours was taken down, and then that of the enemy was withdrawn. In a few minutes, the ball opened on our side, and, for about an hour, the roar of cannon and musketry was continuous. The firing gradually died away, with the exception of a little skirmishing, which was kept up during the night, with an occasional discharge from the batteries, to let them know that we were on the alert. We kept awake all night, ready to drive them back, if they attempted to cut their way through, which it was thought they might possibly do.... There is not much fighting this morning, although a bullet hums by when any one goes for water or shows his head above the level of the hill.

“Saturday morning, May 30.... We remained in the ravines yesterday, the right and left wings of the regiment having changed position. Skirmishing [97] was kept up all day, and the batteries were at work a portion of the time; but the firing was not very heavy. A smart shower passed over toward evening, soaking us through, and we had a prospect of passing a very disagreeable night, for it is quite cool yet without blankets, even when one is dry. Just at dark, however, we were relieved by the Twelfth Maine, and sent into the woods in rear of the batteries.”

This three days’ exposure to alternate heat and moisture broke down many constitutions that had borne up under all the severe marching through the Tèche country; and men were daily sent to the rear, the majority of whom died before, or soon after, reaching Baton Rouge, to which place the sick and wounded men were at first sent. It would be impossible, in the limits of this sketch, to give an extended notice of all who died from hard service during the campaigns of the regiment; but the writer has taken pains to prepare a correct list, which will be found in another place; and the facts will also be appended to each name in its appropriate place in the company.

After reaching the position selected in the woods, the blankets were brought, and, still wet through, the regiment laid down to rest without [98] equipments on, for the first time since the morning of the assault.

Although the batteries kept up an occasional fire through the night, it did not prevent sleep; and even when a stray shell from the other side went wandering carelessly through the forest, making a path among the thick woods, it was scarcely heeded, so exhausted had the men become from the week’s labor.

Saturday (30th), the regiment remained in the rear; and many were made glad by receiving letters from home, brought by Mr. Stacy Read, of Cambridge, who had come from Massachusetts to make inquiries into the situation of the various regiments from the State. At the same time, Maj. Richardson returned to the regiment, although not having recovered from the severe illness with which he had been suffering.

The Thirty Eighth was not allowed to remain long in the rear. As soon as the approach of night shrouded the movement from the foe, the line was formed in the edge of the woods; and, cautiously marching past the batteries, taking especial care that no loose dipper should notify the enemy of an approach, the regiment passed unharmed over the road where it had met with [99] such a hot reception, and took its old position in the ravines. This time, the blankets and shelter-tents were taken; and they were arranged so as to afford some protection from the rays of the sun. Upon entering the woods on the morning of the assault, the knapsacks had been left in charge of a guard, and the men had gone into the fight with no incumbrance but their haversacks and canteens; and thus for three days they remained in the ravines in front of the works, with no shelter from the sun or rain.

The rations were cooked in the woods; and volunteers went from the quarters, and carried them to the several companies. While doing this, they were exposed to the fire of sharpshooters from behind the works, who had obtained a complete range of the road travelled by the ration-bearers, and who never failed to send their compliments, when they saw the coffee and meat on its way to the ravines; and in this way one member of the regiment was killed, and one wounded.

Not knowing at what moment the enemy might sally out from his works, and attempt to force his way through the lines, and thus escape an inevitable surrender from want of food, the troops in the ravines were obliged to exercise strict vigilance, [100] especially during the night. Pickets were thrown out on the road, and one-half of the regiment kept awake while the other slept, all with their equipments on, and with loaded rifles by their side, ready for battle at the first note of alarm; but the rebels, either doubting the practicability of a successful attack upon the Union lines, or waiting for outside assistance from Johnson, remained in their works, contenting themselves with sending a few shells and shot occasionally over the heads of the troops in the ravines. One rebel gun, the “Lady Davis,” was particularly active in this work, and generally sent a few of her noisy messengers in the vicinity of the Thirty Eighth every evening.

WHEN the regiment went to the front the second time, the men expected to be relieved in twenty-four hours; but the fourth day found them still there. On the evening of that day, they were relieved, and enjoyed another day’s rest in the woods. What followed may be learned from the following extract from a letter:—

“Saturday, June 6th, 5 P. M. —We are now out of the din of battle which surrounds Port Hudson, and went to sleep last night, for the first time in twelve days, without the accompaniment of cannon and musketry. It appears that the rebels have been collecting a force at Clinton, about twenty or thirty miles from Port Hudson, and have recently defeated a portion of our cavalry, compelling them to retreat; and there was danger of our supply-trains being captured. In [102] consequence of this, a force has been sent out, under command of Gen. Paine, to drive them off, or give them battle if they stand. We started early Friday morning; but several of the regiments took the wrong road, and we had to wait until they retraced their steps, and caught up with us. At noon, we halted for an hour or so, and then resumed our march; but, while we had been laying in front of Port Hudson, the sun had been climbing up in the heavens, and it was found that we could not march as we had done. Men began to fall, all through the line; and the hospital stretchers were soon filled with them, panting for breath. The whole force was at once taken into the woods, where it remained until six o’clock in the evening, when the march was resumed, and kept up till nine o’clock.... We started at six this morning, and marched till eleven, and have been in the shade since, near a swift-running bayou, which affords an excellent opportunity for bathing.”

At twelve o’clock, Saturday night, the command was again in motion, although few had obtained any sleep. “We nodded as we marched along, and were completely lost if we halted a moment.” Having marched to within eight miles of Clinton, [103] the column halted, rested for a short time, and then faced about, and took the road back, the cavalry having gone ahead, and learned that the enemy had evacuated the town. We again quote from the letter:—

“Tuesday morning, June 9.—We are again back in the woods opposite Port Hudson, with the cannon booming around us; but first, I will tell you a little more about our Clinton expedition. Friday afternoon, while on picket, I had an opportunity of witnessing a scene quite common in Louisiana,—the desertion of a plantation by the whole body of slaves. Near the picket-post was a house, over which a guard had been placed, when we halted the day previous, to prevent plundering. The lady of the house, letting her temper get the better of her judgment, abused the guard, calling them bad names, and hoping the rebels would get the whole of them. The officer of the guard removed his men, and the household property began rapidly to decrease, when the lady repented, and the guard was restored. On the return from Clinton, we halted near the same place; and the house was again protected. There were about eight negro cabins on the plantation; and the inmates were preparing to leave the old home. All [104] their worldly possessions were spread out on the floors of the cabins, and they were selecting a little bundle of the most valuable; for people who travel with the Nineteenth Army Corps have to go in ‘light marching order.’ One man was too old and lame to go; and he wandered around among the busy emigrants, with a half-mournful, half-resigned look. ‘I’m sorry we’re all gwine to leab ye, Uncle Joe,’ said one of the men, looking up from his work; ‘but ye couldn’t stan’ de march.’—‘No; I can’t leab,’ said Uncle Joe, sadly, as he hobbled off to another cabin. At the door of the mansion, the mistress, who was so rampant yesterday, was selling eggs at a great price to Gen. Paine’s cooks.”

The march back to Port Hudson was not so fatiguing; and the regiment again took up a position in the woods, where it remained until the afternoon of the 13th of June, when it was removed to the edge of the woods, near the front, ready to take part in the grand assault which was announced to take place the next day. The army had not been idle since the charge on the 27th of May. Guns had been put in position along the whole line, and strong works erected to protect them; and roadways had been worked through [105] the ravines, so that sharpshooters could approach within rifle-shot, under cover. But the work of the spade was too slow; and another assault was resolved upon. The order of advance was announced to the third division as follows: The Eighth New Hampshire and the Fourth Wisconsin to deploy as skirmishers; the Fourth Massachusetts, and five hundred picked men, to follow with hand-grenades; the Thirty First Massachusetts, with bags of cotton, to fill up the ditch; and then the three brigades of the third division, the third brigade in the advance. This programme was somewhat changed afterward. In regard to a charge so interesting to the regiment, an extract from a letter written two days after, will be allowed to tell the story:—

... “We were roused a little before midnight, and packed our blankets, which were to be left behind. Hot coffee was served out by the company cooks; and, with our haversacks and canteens filled, we moved silently to the front. Many regiments were forming on the edge of the woods; and we expected a short, sharp fight. Gen. Paine himself thought that we should be inside the works within half an hour, and gave orders that the wounded men were not to be [106] removed from the field till the battle was over. Crossing a bridge, which had been covered with cotton to deaden the sound, we marched down a road, enclosed by thick hedges, deployed as skirmishers on an open field, and laid down. The centre was kept in reserve, with orders to follow as the right and left advanced. There were two regiments in front of us, deployed, and lying down,—the Fourth Wisconsin and the Eighth New Hampshire, and also a detachment of men from other regiments, with hand-grenades, to throw over the breastworks. Just behind us was the Fifty Third Massachusetts. As soon as we laid down, our artillery opened fire on the fortifications, throwing the shot and shell over our heads; but some of the shells fell short, injuring our own men.

“After a brisk cannonading, Gen. Paine passed down the line in front, his form just visible in the gray of the morning, repeating to every ‘group,’ in a clear voice, ‘As soon as I have passed the line, the Fourth Wisconsin, the Eighth New Hampshire, and the grenadiers will go forward to the works.’ He had scarcely reached the left of the first line, when the Wisconsin boys sprang up with a loud cheer, and dashed through the openings in the [107] hedge which screened our movements from the enemy. They were followed closely by the Eighth and by the grenadiers. Then the general passed down our line, saying to every company, ‘As soon as I give the word, the Thirty Eighth and Fifty Third will go forward.’ Soon the order came, ‘Forward Thirty Eighth and Fifty Third.’

“The first shout of our advance had been answered by a volley of musketry; and the cries of the wounded men told us what to expect. No one hesitated, however, and the two Massachusetts regiments pressed through the hedge. The distance to the works was farther than we had anticipated, and consisted of a succession of hills and ravines, blocked up with fallen trees, scrubby bushes, and brambles. As we passed the brow of every hill, we were exposed to a severe fire, and our men fell thick and fast; yet the regiment kept on, for the voice of Gen. Paine was heard, in spite of the roar of cannon and musketry, ‘Forward Thirty Eighth. Forward Fifty Third.’ Many of the officers had fallen; the nature of the ground rendered it impossible to keep a line, and the four advance regiments soon became completely mixed up. Still they moved forward until ordered to stop. A few of the Wisconsin men reached the fortifications, and [108] went over, where they were immediately captured; others of them, and many of the Eighth New Hampshire, were dead in the ditch beneath the works. The hand-grenades had been a complete failure, and had been thrown back by the enemy to make sad havoc in our own ranks. More than one third of the Thirty Eighth, and one quarter of the Fifty Third, lay wounded and dying, on the hills and in the ravines. The support did not come up; and that voice which had inspired the whole movement was no longer heard. Whatever chance of success there may have been at the outset, the fall of Gen. Paine destroyed it. And now, almost without officers, the men sought cover from the enemy’s rifles on the slopes of the hills, and returned the fire whenever an opportunity offered. The One Hundred and Thirty Third New York, with its brave colonel leading, made a gallant attempt to retrieve the disasters of the day; but the fall of Col. Currie, and the heavy fire poured into the regiment, caused it to seek shelter. The Thirty First Massachusetts had advanced some distance with the cotton-bags, with which they made breastworks, and held a position in front of the fortifications during the day, having over thirty men killed and wounded.”

[109]

Major Richardson, just returned from the hospital, and still suffering from illness, had been obliged to leave the field, and the command devolved upon Capt. Wyman, who, in turn, was partially disabled by a piece of shell, which shattered his sabre, and bruised his leg. Lieut. Holmes had been killed, and Lieuts. Spear, Russell of Co. F, Russell of Co. D, Bullard, and Jackson, were wounded. In all, ninety-one of the two hundred and fifty who formed in line that morning had been killed or wounded. All day, the regiment, scattered in groups over the field, remained beneath the scorching sun, suffering for water, and exposed to the fire from their own batteries in the rear, as well as from those of the enemy in front.

Water could only be procured from a few mud-holes in the ravines; and the paths leading to them were commanded by the rebel works, the numerous dead and wounded men in the vicinity telling how dangerous was the attempt to reach them. For a long time, Gen. Paine, who had been shot in the leg, remained behind a log, every attempt to carry him off the field being the signal for a volley from the enemy, who knew that some prominent officer must be the object of so much solicitude.

The stretcher corps were repeatedly fired upon. [110] Two colored men had succeeded in getting to the extreme front with a stretcher, and were endeavoring to take off a fallen soldier (supposed, at the time, to belong to Co. I, of the Thirty Eighth), when they were fired upon, and both fell wounded. One of them tried to get away, and was again shot down; and, making a second attempt, received a third wound. But the longest day must have an end; and darkness at length kindly came, and hid from sight the terrible scenes of that sad Sunday. During the evening, the few remaining officers gathered the scattered groups together; and, about midnight, the regiment withdrew from the field, not, however, without a parting volley from the rebels, who heard the movement.

The day after the battle, attempts were made to recover the bodies of those who had fallen; but, as the rebels had command of the field, all of them could not be reached. Toward evening, members of Co. F succeeded, after a long search among the dead men, in finding the bodies of Sergt. Angell and Corp. Champney, and by torchlight laid them quietly to rest under the magnolias near their quarters, beside another of their comrades, Joseph A. Morris, whose body had been recovered early in the day.

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It would swell our sketch to an unwieldy size to record the names and good qualities of all those fell on this day, or of the wounded who passed weary months on hospital beds. Those who saw them know how well they did their duty. In another place, will be found a full list of the casualties.

ON the 15th, the long-looked for mail arrived, with the letters that had been accumulating at New Orleans for weeks; and then wounds and sickness were momentarily forgotten in the pleasure of again communing with those at home. The letters averaged seven or eight to each man; and some had over a dozen; but it was sad to think how many would be returned unopened, to strike a chill to the hearts of the writers.

The wounded men were sent to Baton Rouge and New Orleans, and the field-hospitals made ready for a new lot of patients; for, notwithstanding the failure of the assault, the siege still went on.

But few of the Union dead had been brought from the field; and four days they laid beneath that summer sun before a truce was arranged, and [113] the bodies buried. Previous to burial, they were placed in rows, to the number of over a hundred; but it was impossible to recognize them, except by some mark on their clothing, or, as was the case with the body of Lieut. Holmes, by articles found in the pockets.

The Thirty Eighth remained in the woods until the 19th (five days), when it was again removed to the front to support batteries, relieving the Thirteenth Connecticut, who had excavated holes in the side of the ravines, safe from bullets as long as the head was kept below the crest of the hill; but a gauntlet had to be run every time one went for water, or to the cook-houses in the woods. In the meantime, spades were again in the ascendant; trenches had been dug almost up to the earthworks of the enemy; and sharpshooters were posted all through the ravines, so that it was a dangerous matter for a rebel to raise his head above the embankment. The batteries daily and nightly threw their missiles inside of the fortress, giving the enemy no rest; and such an accurate range had been obtained, that rebel guns were dismounted as soon as put in position.

Deserters came over occasionally, with stories of scarcity of food, and that the only hope of Gen. [114] Gardner was in outside relief; and that if Vicksburg fell, and Grant be thus enabled to turn his attention to Johnson, Port Hudson would fall at once. Although his army was rapidly diminishing, by casualties and the diseases incident to the climate and the season, Gen. Banks still pressed the siege vigorously, encouraging the men by his presence and by appeals to their patriotism and courage; and a storming party was organized and drilled to take the lead in a new assault.

But stirring news was at hand, which was to crush all the hope of the garrison in receiving help from Johnson, and leave them in the hands of those who had toiled so hard for the prize. On the 7th of July, the tidings of the fall of Vicksburg was received, and published through the camps; and as it spread from regiment to regiment, till it reached those almost directly beneath the works, one shout of exultation arose, giving the enemy an intimation of the speedy close of the struggle. Early on the morning of the 8th, an order from Gen. Banks was received by all the regimental commanders, stating that Gen. Gardner had proposed a cessation of hostilities, with a view to settling the terms of surrender, if Gen. Banks could satisfy him that Vicksburg had fallen. Preparations [115] for the attack were still to go on, but the general wished all active demonstrations to cease; and, in a little while, flags of truce were put up, and the men, who had been opposed to each other so long, met at the breastworks, and carried on a brisk trade, swapping hard-tack for corn-cakes, and exchanging tin canteens for wooden ones. The battles were discussed freely, but perfect good-humor was maintained on both sides; and the rebels freely passed over their corn-beer to their late antagonists. The Fifteenth Arkansas had occupied that part of the works opposite the post of the Thirty Eighth, and had scarcely left the front for thirty days; and this was the second time they were to surrender, the whole regiment having been captured at Donelson.

Gen. Gardner surrendered unconditionally, and preparations were made to take possession at once of the fort. Two regiments from each division were selected to go inside, and assist at the formal surrender of the stronghold; and, in the third division, that honor fell upon the Eighth New Hampshire and the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts. This indorsement of their conduct by the commanding general was especially gratifying to the regiment; but they were not destined to see the [116] inside of those famous works; for, on the afternoon of the 8th, a storm came up, and the ceremonies of the formal surrender were postponed until the next day; and, at midnight, the regiment was called up, and sent, with the brigade, to Stores Plains, five miles from Port Hudson, to relieve Dudley’s brigade, which had been ordered to Donaldsonville, where the defeated army of Taylor, having reassembled, were assuming the offensive. The regiment remained at Stores Plains until the 11th, the complete quiet which reigned seeming almost unnatural, so long had they been accustomed to the almost constant discharge of cannon and musketry; and, on the afternoon of that day, the brigade received orders to report at Baton Rouge. All night the regiment marched, reaching the capital as the sun arose above the housetops; and then sought shelter from the intense heat during the day as best it could. This night-march, after having burrowed so long in the holes at Port Hudson, told heavily on the men; and many, who had been on duty during the whole campaign, broke down, and fell out of the ranks.

On the 15th, the regiment embarked on transports, in company with the One Hundred and [117] Twenty Eighth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New York, and arrived at Donaldsonville that evening; one small boat affording sufficient room for the three regiments. Only four or five officers accompanied the regiment, some having been wounded, and others having obtained furloughs to visit New Orleans and the North; so that the regiment made rather a ludicrous appearance on parade, with one field, one staff, and two line officers, four headless drums, and two hundred ragged men. If the dress-parades did not afford much satisfaction, the excellent bathing facilities did; and all day the river was alive with men who thus sought refuge from the intense heat which prevailed.

On the 25th, the paymaster appeared, after a six months’ absence; and soon the regiment formed itself into an irregular triangle; one side being composed by the line marching to the paymaster’s tent, the other side by a long procession on their way to the sutlers, and the base by the returning crowd on their way to their quarters, with armfuls of cheese, gingerbread, pickles, etc. The health of the regiment was very poor at this time, nearly every one being afflicted with a species of scurvy sore, the consequence of an almost entire [118] abstinence from vegetables for so long a time; and, for some days after the arrival of the paymaster, the army rations were hardly touched. This state of things was, of course, very gratifying to the sutlers, and to the numerous corn-beer and gingerbread venders, whose stands sprung up like mushrooms, all over the town, as soon as the troops were paid.

AUGUST 1, the regiment embarked for Baton Rouge, landed, and went into camp near the Highland Road, just outside of the city, when clothing was issued, and the men once more had an opportunity to appear decently. From this time until the following February, the history of the regiment presents no striking features; but it was far from being idle.

On the 2d of September, a large portion of the troops at Baton Rouge embarked for what was then supposed to be a Texan expedition; and the Thirty Eighth was ordered out to guard the streets leading from the levee, and prevent any of the men from leaving their command,—an unpleasant duty at all times. A few days after, the regiment changed camp, moving near the city, on the ground recently occupied by the Forty [120] Ninth Massachusetts, and calling their new location “Camp William L. Rodman.” This camp was just outside the line of works surrounding Baton Rouge; and, upon a threatened attack one night from the bands of guerillas who hovered around the lines continually, the camp was abandoned, with the tents standing, while the regiment bivouacked on the boulevards in the city until morning; when, there being no prospect of an engagement, it once more returned to its quarters.

The Thirty First Massachusetts having been sent to New Orleans for the purpose of being mounted, the Thirty Eighth removed into the vacant camp (Camp Banks) on the 10th of December. Cos. A and K were detailed as provost guard, and had quarters in the city, where they were efficient in preserving order, and gave satisfaction alike to the commander of the post and to the inhabitants of the city, who were protected in all legitimate business, and who ever found the men of these two companies courteous and polite when on duty, and quiet and peaceable at all times. Co. I was stationed at Plaquemine, a portion of the company being mounted; and, in conjunction with the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry, they did efficient service in guarding that town against the incursions [121] of the guerillas, who harassed the few people disposed to render allegiance to the government, and took every opportunity to capture wagon-trains, and shoot those who ventured outside of the lines. The remaining companies picketed a portion of the line, did guard-duty in the commissary and other departments, and furnished men to act as clerks and orderlies, and do other duties incident to the garrisoning of such an important post; while a number of the officers held important positions on the staffs of the post and brigade commanders.

No articles whatever were allowed to be taken outside of the lines without a permit; and the pickets were instructed to use great care in examining all parties; but it became a delicate task occasionally, when some fair-looking dame, taking advantage of the respect ever shown to woman by the members of the regiment, attempted to “run the blockade.” On more than one occasion, where the suspicions were unusually strong, a gentle shaking brought strange appendages to the ground, to the confusion of the owner, and the amusement of the boys; and a close examination of the seats and bottoms of vehicles often brought to light articles not on the permits.

As the year drew to a close, the weather became [122] cold; and, during Christmas-week, the pickets often found the water in their canteens frozen in the morning, and their beards white with the frost. The citizens complained of the cold also, saying that such weather had not been seen in Baton Rouge for twenty years, and that the Yankees had brought their climate down with them; which may have been true, for they had established some customs quite as uncongenial to the South as the cold weather. It was reported that one chivalrous citizen, after taking the oath, with the intention of supporting the government, became so disgusted at seeing a sign hung out, stating that doughnuts and baked beans were to be had within, that he immediately left for some country where New England and her famous dishes were unheard off.

The health of the regiment was remarkably good through the winter, some companies reporting every man for duty, notwithstanding the fact that they were on picket twice a week, exposed to all the storms of the season; but the quarters in the camp were comfortable, consisting of board shanties, three to four feet high at the sides, with tent-roofs, and furnished with stoves, bunks, and stools. By this time, the men began to consider [123] themselves veterans, making it a point to look out for personal conveniences; and, as a consequence, “household stuff” accumulated, so that whenever the regiment broke camp, they left a variety of articles, valuable in the eyes of the contrabands.

On New Year’s, a ball took place under the direction of Co. A, then doing provost duty in the city; but the sympathies of the people were still with the bands of guerillas prowling about outside of the lines, and they held themselves aloof from Union officers and men; so that the ball was not graced by the presence of many ladies. During the winter, J. C. Wellington, Esq., of Cambridge, who had been commissioned by the governor of Massachusetts to visit all the regiments from that State then in the Department of the Gulf, spent a number of days in the camp, conforming to army life, and making himself familiar with the condition of the regiment.

During the first week in January, the alarms occasioned by guerillas were unusually frequent; and the regiment was under arms several times, the pickets doubled, and preparations made to repel an assault; but the enemy never came within musket-shot of the breastworks, although they captured detached parties. For several weeks, [124] the brigade stood under arms from daylight until after sunrise; while the pickets deployed in a skirmish-line; but the guerillas never fulfilled their threat of dining in Baton Rouge.

Wednesday, Feb. 27, the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry raised a new flag in their camp, celebrating the event with music and speeches, and the Thirty Eighth were invited to be present, with other regiments. They appeared with full ranks, to the evident gratification of the Fourth; and from this time, the good feeling between the two regiments, which had been partially interrupted by an unfortunate affair between a member of the Fourth and one of the provost guards, resulting in the death of the former, was restored. On the 3d of February, the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York raised a new flag, with appropriate ceremonies, reminding the spectators of the early times of the war, when patriotism expressed itself in bunting.

The rebels still hovered around the picket-line; and on the 8th of February, Lieut. Williams, one of the most daring of the Wisconsin officers, was killed just outside of the lines, several of his men being wounded at the same time, and the detachment which accompanied him driven back. His [125] regiment immediately started in pursuit, and captured several of the enemy; while the third brigade were under arms behind the breastworks.

Feb. 7, the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth marched to the stockade, seven or eight miles from the city; and, on the march back, a scrub-race took place between the two regiments,—molasses versus sour-krout, as the boys called it,—molasses coming in slightly ahead.

March 11, a number of recruits joined the regiment, for the first time in its history; the Department of the Gulf evidently not being in favor among the latter volunteers.

It should have been mentioned before, that the ladies of Cambridge, during the summer, had procured a very handsome silk flag, with the name of the regiment, and the engagements in which it had taken part, inscribed upon it in golden letters. This flag was forwarded to Baton Rouge, and entrusted to the care of the regiment by Major Allen, who read a very eloquent and patriotic letter from the donors, and also read the reply which was to be sent in the name of the regiment. Five more battles were afterward placed upon its stripes.

THE campaign had already opened on the Red River, with the capture of Fort de Russy by Gen. A. J. Smith; and a batch of three hundred prisoners had been sent to Baton Rouge, and thence to New Orleans. The Seventh and Twenty Second Kentucky Regiments had arrived to garrison the post; and the third brigade daily expected orders to prepare for the field.

On the 21st of March, the ever-welcome face of the paymaster was seen in camp, the regiment receiving two months’ pay; and the next day, the surplus baggage was packed, the campaign coffee and sugar bags made, the detailed men returned to their several companies, the cartridge-boxes filled, and everything made ready to start at a moment’s notice. The regiment had become well accustomed to river-steamers by this time; and, as [127] the regimental baggage had been cut down from its former huge proportions, breaking camp was now a comparatively easy task, consequently, there was but little delay after reaching the levee; and at noon of the 23d, the transport left Baton Rouge, and steamed up the river. Much interest was manifested to see Port Hudson from the river-side; and that place, so famous in the annals of the Thirty Eighth, was reached in time to see the setting sun cast its rays on the glistening musket of the Corps d’Afrique sentinel, who walked his beat on its ramparts. The regiment had now been in front of Port Hudson, and to the rear of it, and on all sides of it, but were never destined to enter its works.

Leaving the Mississippi, the steamer entered the Red River, and, on the afternoon of the 24th, passed Fort de Russy, a grim-looking structure, but now in the hands of its rightful owners; while those two old Mississippi mud-turtles, the Benton and the Essex, lay silently at anchor, pictures of war in repose. The country of the Red River presents a striking contrast to that of the Mississippi. For miles, the traveller sails on, through an almost unbroken forest, the river taking a new turn every few yards. Occasionally a clearing [128] comes in sight, in the centre of which stands a dilapidated building, apparently engaged in a perpetual conflict with the laws of gravitation; a few cattle and long-nosed hogs, and a great many lank dogs, roam about the apology for a garden; while groups of flaxen-headed children peer out of the doorways. It is the country of the poor whites, where labor is considered degrading, where education is unknown, and where Northern enterprise has never penetrated. But the North-western farmer boys have looked on this rich soil; the North-western and the North-eastern lumbermen have felled the tall trees near the river-bank; the mechanics of Massachusetts and New York have seen the field for improved implements in husbandry and in domestic life; and ere many years this distant Southern country will put on a new life, and be the seat of an educated, industrious people.

The boat reached Alexandria at midnight, and, the next morning the regiment disembarked, and went into camp three miles beyond the city. The place was full of troops, belonging to the Thirteenth Corps, who had been in Texas, and had marched up through the Tèche country; the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, who had captured De Russy; [129] the Nineteenth Corps, a portion of whom had been in the department so long that they had become fully acclimated; and one or two brigades of colored troops—mostly Louisianians. The third brigade of the second division was selected to garrison Alexandria, while the main body of the army moved up the country toward Shreveport; and the Thirty Eighth removed to one of the vacated camps, falling heir to the stock of boards collected by the Western men, who were adepts in building shanties .

April 1, the regiment again broke camp, moving nearer the centre of the city; and as Gen. Grover, of the second division, had command of the post at Alexandria, and the army having met with but slight opposition in its march toward Shreveport, it was thought that the third brigade would go no further. At Alexandria, in addition to picket, the regiment did much fatigue duty,—lugging oats, corn, hard-tack, etc., up the steep banks of the levee, working nights as well as days. Beside the white and black soldiers, there was an appendix to the army at Alexandria, consisting of a body of gray-coated scouts, natives of this portion of the country, acquainted with all the by-ways and the hiding-places of the rebels, who went out and in at [130] their pleasure, and who were looked upon rather uneasily at times by the troops, although confidence was placed in them by Gen. Banks.

For some days, the reports from the moving army and navy were all favorable; the rebels were in full retreat, abandoning their strongholds, and falling back upon Shreveport, where they were to find Gen. Steele in their rear, and the whole trans-Mississippi country was to fall into the hands of the Union generals. Suddenly, there was a pause in the news; then ominous whispers of disaster; finally a full confirmation of the ill-tidings,—Nims’s, the Chicago, and a regular battery taken; the newly-mounted infantry regiments defeated and demoralized; the Thirteenth corps cut to pieces, and heavy losses in the Nineteenth; with the entire army on the defensive. All thoughts of summer quarters in Alexandria were at an end; and on the 12th, the regiment struck tents, marched a few miles beyond the town, and embarked on board the Mittie Stephens, to join the army above. The boat steamed on until midnight, when the low state of the water, and the frequent turns in the river, rendered it imprudent to go further; and a halt was made beside the bank, a picket being thrown out to guard against guerillas. [131] Starting at daylight in the morning, the boat proceeded on her course, without incident until noon, making rather slow progress against the current. As usual, when on a transport, the men were scattered about the vessel, making coffee, eating, sleeping, and reading, not a gun loaded, the equipments and knapsacks piled up promiscuously, and the officers all in the cabin. Every one felt as secure as if sailing up Boston Harbor, when suddenly a gunshot was heard; and before a minute had elapsed, a shower of bullets poured into the boat, rattling against the smoke-pipe, smashing the cabin-windows, and whistling by the heads of the astonished men. Taken completely by surprise, away from their guns and equipments, and no enemy in sight, for a few moments there was some confusion; but the men soon rallied, and poured several volleys into the woods, although, as the boat kept on her course, the fire was probably ineffectual.

Considering that the regiment was fully exposed, and the enemy perfectly secure in his hiding-place, the casualties were remarkably few. One man, sick in the cabin, and lying on a sofa, was instantly killed, and one officer and two men wounded. Another attack was expected at the next bend of [132] the river, and preparations were made to meet it; but nothing further occurred, and, within an hour or two, the Union pickets were seen on the bank of the river, and the steamer soon reached Grand Ecore, where the Nineteenth Army Corps was encamped. A boat crowded with captured gray-coats lay in the stream; and as the Mittie Stephens passed her, the Union men, feeling in bad humor over the guerilla attack, exulted a little; but the rebels shouted back the taunts defiantly, and pointed up the river.

The brigade being still at Alexandria, the Thirty Eighth was temporarily assigned to the second brigade of the third division, commanded by Brig. Gen. Birge; and during the two or three days succeeding, the camp was twice changed again, before a proper position was found.

THE greater portion of Gen. Banks’s army was then at Grand Ecore, and busily at work throwing up breastworks,—the pine forests furnishing abundant logs for the purpose,—while the river was crowded with gun-boats and transports. Of course the recent battles were the general topics discussed, and there appeared to be as many opinions regarding the details as there were soldiers present. The Western officers and men laid the blame of the repulse on the Eastern generals; the infantry charged it on the cavalry, the artillery on the infantry support; the navy on the army. But there were a few general facts on which all the stories agreed, and which may be stated in the following order: 1st. The rebels having steadily fallen back before the advance of the Union army, neither officers nor men expected a serious opposition until the works at Shreveport were reached, by which [134] time it was supposed that Gen. Steele would be ready to coöperate; consequently, the advance was taken by surprise when they found the entire force of the enemy stopping their path. 2d. A portion of the cavalry had been but recently mounted; and men who were excellent infantry soldiers when armed with infantry weapons, being obliged to dismount in the woods, found their cavalry equipments a great hindrance. 3d. This imperfect cavalry, with a few light batteries, and a small infantry support, was separated by four or five hours’ march from the Nineteenth Corps, with the cavalry baggage-train well up to the front, and blocking up the road between. 4th. The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps were not within supporting distance of the other portion of the army. These statements were made by scores of men at the time, and are substantially embodied in the Adjutant General’s reports of the various Massachusetts’ regiments engaged in the expedition. Although the fall of the water in the Red River made it necessary to retreat from Grand Ecore, the repulse at Sabine Cross Roads was a purely military disaster,—the result of a disposition of the forces which invited attack. Others may apportion the blame, and say who was responsible [135] for the lives of the men sacrificed in this disastrous campaign; the failure did not result from lack of courage in either the Eastern or Western portions of the army. During the second Red River expedition, the Army of the Gulf did not have that confidence in some of its commanders so essential to success. The troops thought it bad enough to get the condemned hard-tack of the Army of the Potomac, without having its condemned generals; and Emory and Weitzel and Paine and Grover, under Gen. Banks, were considered competent to lead them to victory as they had done the year before.

As some relief to the disasters, all concurred in awarding great honor to Nims’s Battery, which, with double-shotted guns, mowed down the ranks of the advancing rebels while their ammunition lasted, and only attempted to save themselves when their horses were shot and there was no possibility of getting their pieces off the field. The Nineteenth Corps, also, acted as became it, and taught the enemy, that although repulsed, the Army of the Gulf was not demoralized; while the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps sustained the reputation they had acquired under Gen. Grant.

Extensive breastworks were erected at Grand [136] Ecore, each regiment building opposite its own line; so that the whole camp was soon enclosed, in anticipation of an attack.

Thursday, April 16, a detail of one hundred men being called for from the regiment, Cos. C, G, and H, were selected, and sent to guard a transport on her passage down the river; and the next day the regiment again changed camp. But the water was rapidly falling; it began to be whispered that a large force was collecting on the river below, to cut off all supplies; and the news of the defeat of Gen. Steele was confirmed. On the 21st, marching orders were received; and the entire army prepared to evacuate Grand Ecore, and retreat to Alexandria. As a rapid march was expected, with the probability of having to fight all the way down, everything superfluous was destroyed, and blankets, overcoats, extra clothing, and relics went to feed the flames which were rising in every direction through the pine woods. Not a hard-tack box was left for the enemy; and their only spoils of war consisted in the well constructed line of breastworks surrounding the encampment.

The sick men were put on board of transports; and at five o’clock in the afternoon, the retreat [137] began, the Nineteenth Corps in advance. Working its way slowly through the immense wagon-train, the third brigade took the road through the pine woods, in which large fires had been built to guide the men in picking their way among the stumps. The Thirteenth Corps followed the Nineteenth; and the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, under the command of Gen. A. J. Smith, brought up the rear. The advance marched till four o’clock in the morning, through woods and plains, and then went into camp, having made over twenty-five miles; while far in the rear, the lurid light of burning barns and mills told where the Western soldiers, thinking of the tortures of their fifty thousand comrades in the prisons of Virginia and Carolina, were making war with ungloved hands.

The march was continued the next day; and, in the twenty-four hours after leaving Grand Ecore, forty miles had been travelled. But the enemy, who had been exulting over the anticipated capture of Gen. Banks and his entire army, were not disposed to let the prize slip through their fingers so easily; and on the morning of the 23d of April, as the Nineteenth Corps were marching along the banks of Cane River, near the [138] crossing, the rebels opened with artillery on the advance. The infantry at once formed in line of battle, in the road and the adjoining fields, while the light batteries were sent to the front, followed by Gen. Banks and staff. After a brisk cannonading with little apparent result, a body of troops, under command of Gen. Birge, was sent across the river,—the detachment of the third brigade, led by Col. Smith, of the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York, being the first to ford the stream. Climbing up the steep banks, the brigade entered the woods, and, marching through a swamp, came in the rear of the enemy, when the Thirty Eighth was sent forward in advance to skirmish, and ascertain the position of the rebels. Moving steadily forward through woods and across open fields, occasionally receiving a shot from a concealed enemy, the regiment passed a narrow stream, skirmished up a thickly wooded hill, and down its descending slope, till a rail-fence was reached, bounding a cleared piece of ground, beyond which was another wooded bluff, showing signs of rebel occupancy. A halt was made behind this fence, while the reserve formed in the rear, and dismounted cavalry was sent into the woods on the right to reconnoitre. The order [139] “Forward” soon came; and the Thirty Eighth, still deployed, went over the fence, and charged the hill under a heavy fire. Thanks to Gen. Birge, the regiment was not thrown forward unsupported. Emerging from the woods, the Thirtieth Maine and the One Hundred and Sixty Second and the One Hundred and Sixty Fifth New York followed the skirmishers, in a magnificent line of battle, charging across the open field and up the bluff, from which, after a short resistance, the rebels retreated precipitately, leaving a portion of their dead and wounded on the ground.

Reforming the lines, and being strongly reinforced, the column advanced through the woods to another opening, with a hill beyond similar to the one just taken, and where it was expected the enemy would make a more stubborn resistance; but when the charge was made in lines of battle, with fixed bayonets, no foe was found, and the road to the river was clear.

That night the regiment encamped near the spot where it had crossed in the morning; and glad enough were the men to unsling the knapsacks which they had carried all day, and gather around the camp-fires, to discuss the battle, while they prepared their simple supper.

[140]

The casualties had been comparatively few, the close ranks of the support furnishing a fairer target than the skirmish-line. Capt. Julius M. Lathrop, of Co. I, was mortally wounded, and died a few days afterward. Capt. Lathrop had rode in an ambulance the day previous, unable to march; but, upon the approach of an engagement, had taken command of his company, and was leading his men when he received the fatal shot. The regiment lost two killed and eight wounded, the greater part of the wounded men dying during the summer.

As soon as the enemy was driven off, a pontoon bridge was thrown across the river, and the wagon-trains and the batteries passed over. The Nineteenth Corps had continued the march during the night, followed by the Thirteenth Corps; and the next morning the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth marched on, leaving the Thirty Eighth with the Western corps, who had been engaged with the enemy in the morning, and who reached the crossing as the rear of the other corps left it.

An immense number of contrabands, of all ages, sizes, and colors, came in with Gen. Smith, laden down with bundles, hastily packed up as they deserted the plantation, and left old massa and [141] missus to hoe their own corn and bake their own hoecakes. Some were mounted on mules, and some had rigged up old mule-carts, and filled them with bags of clothes, iron pots, and babies. An artist would have found many subjects worthy of his pencil in the quaint procession; and one group impressed itself very vividly upon the mind of the present writer. A woman, with an immense bundle on her head, was leading a mule by a rope-halter, walking with as stately a tread as did ever Cleopatra. Astride of the mule were two little children, the foremost one holding on to a large bundle, the other clasping her companion’s waist. The children were neatly dressed, the long fringe on their straw hats partially shading their faces, while their eyes were steadily fixed on their mother; and the complexion of the whole party told of other than African blood.

The appearance of these contrabands reminded the spectator of the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt; for, like the ancient fugitives from slavery, these modern ones had evidently borrowed largely from their masters and mistresses, and many a gay parasol and lace mantle spoke of the mansion rather than the cabin. They were illy prepared, however, with such loads, to accompany a [142] retreating army, closely pursued by its foes; and, either by the advice or command of some wise officer, a sifting of their effects took place at the crossing, and a portion of their burdens was left behind. The Western boys rigged themselves in the cast-off bonnets and gowns, and the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps looked like a masquerading party as they filed across the pontoon.

For some unexplained reason, the Thirty Eighth was detained to support a battery, until the whole army had crossed the river, and the pontoon was taken up, when the battery moved on, and the regiment followed. Everything now in the rear was rebel; and the unfortunate soldier who fell out had a fair chance of seeing Galveston via Shreveport. The enemy followed, and had constant skirmishes with the cavalry; but the infantry was not again engaged; and, after three days hard marching, partly through the pine woods, the regiment entered Alexandria on the afternoon of the 26th, and went into camp near the place from which it had started fourteen days previously, finding a large mail awaiting it, much to its gratification.

ALTHOUGH the army had thus reached Alexandria in safety, the fleet was still above the rapids, and there appeared to be no prospect of the river rising. The enemy were busily at work on the lower part of the river, throwing up earthworks; and in a short time all communication was cut off, and several transports captured, one of which contained a large mail sent from Alexandria upon the arrival of the army at that place.

But there were men in the Nineteenth Corps to whom obstacles only brought increased energy; and the bold project of damming the Red River, and thereby raising the water to a sufficient height to float the iron-clads over the rapids, was undertaken by Lieut.-Col. Bailey of the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry. Gen. Banks provided a great number of negroes for this purpose; and assistance was [144] rendered by details from the several divisions of the army, which, in the meanwhile, was engaged in throwing up an additional line of breastworks around Alexandria.

The fatigue duty was very hard at this time; for, in addition to the work of intrenching, the infantry had to unload the greater portion of the transports, not only of the rations for its own use, but also of the oats and corn for the cavalry, working night as well as day, carrying heavy burdens up the steep banks of the levee, which were made slippery by the frequent rains. While the infantry was thus at work, the cavalry was no less actively engaged in reconnoissances; and scarcely a day passed in which wounded men were not brought into the town.

On the 7th of May, the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York, accompanied by a squadron of cavalry, marched thirteen or fourteen miles from Alexandria, as guard to a wagon-train, which had been sent to procure forage. Scouts reported a body of the enemy engaged in obstructing the road, and there had been some skirmishing by the cavalry in the morning; so that the order, “Over the levee!” caused no surprise. Like a wave rolling up a smooth beach, [145] the regiment swept over the embankment in an unbroken line, and then paused to see what the matter was; but no explanation could be given, and the march was resumed. This incident illustrated the complete discipline existing in the regiment, and the promptitude with which orders were obeyed. In the afternoon, the detachment returned to camp, having marched nearly thirty miles since morning.

Lieut.-Col. Bailey had succeeded in his difficult undertaking; and, on the 9th, the gun-boats floated over the rapids, and arrived at Alexandria. Preparations were at once made to evacuate the town, and march to the Mississippi; and the men worked night and day, loading the transports with quartermaster’s stores and ammunition. At two o’clock, on the morning of the 11th, the regiment broke camp; and, with the brigade, began the march; but the progress of evacuation was slow, and it was not until the 14th that the whole army was fairly on the road. That day, the point was passed where the enemy had blockaded the river; and near their rifle-pits were found the remnants of the captured mails, the ground being covered with the envelopes of the sixteen thousand letters that had fallen into their hands. The postage-stamps, [146] not yet defaced, had been carefully torn off, as if the captors had a lurking suspicion that the portrait of Washington was of more intrinsic value than that of either of the Confederate chiefs.

Although the enemy had abandoned their position on the river, they still continued to harass the retreating army, keeping the cavalry constantly skirmishing; and on the afternoon of the 15th, the firing became so rapid, that the army formed in line of battle several times, with the expectation of an engagement. At sundown, the musketry increased, accompanied by artillery, and the second division of the Nineteenth Corps went through the little town of Marksville on the double-quick, to the assistance of the cavalry, who were reported to have been severely handled. The enemy drew off, however, and the division bivouacked on an open plain beyond the village. Gen. Grover performed an act of kindness that night for the regiment, which was never forgotten. No water could be found nearer than the village, at least half a mile distant; and while the men were debating whether to hunt for wells in the dark, or to lie down parched with thirst, the cavalry body-guard of Gen. Grover rode into the camp, with instructions from the general to take all the canteens of the [147] Thirty Eighth, fill them, and bring them back; which they proceeded to do.

The morning was ushered in by discharges of artillery at the front; and the division moved forward in line of battle across the Plains of Mansura. In the absence of Col. Sharpe, the command of the third brigade devolved upon Col. Smith of the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York; but that brave officer being disabled, Lieut.-Col. Richardson, at the approach of an engagement, left the ambulance in which he had been obliged to perform the greater part of the march, put himself at the head of the brigade, and manœuvred it over the field of battle as coolly, and with as much skill, as when on the parade-ground at Camp Kearney, leaving the Thirty Eighth under the command of Capt. Wyman, who was never known to flinch in battle.

The advance of the Nineteenth Army Corps across the Plains of Mansura on the 16th of May, was the finest military spectacle seen in the Department of the Gulf during the war. The batteries at the front, enveloped in smoke; the infantry moving steadily up in lines of battle, division, brigade, and regimental flags easily distinguished; the cavalry on the flanks, impatiently [148] waiting an opportunity to charge; with the long lines of ambulances and wagons in the rear,—all of which could be taken in at a glance,—stamped itself on the memory of those present with a vividness never to be forgotten.

As the lines moved forward, the enemy fell back, his fire gradually slackening, until it finally ceased, and he retreated by one of the roads branching off into the interior. The infantry had not come within musket-shot during this engagement; and although the shot and shell from the rebel batteries fell all over the field,—one huge mass of iron falling a few feet in front of Co. H,—there were no casualties in the regiment. But the whole corps suffered severely from the want of water, being obliged to quench their thirst in mud-holes from which the hogs had to be driven, and which was more than lukewarm.

Continuing the march, in the afternoon a belt of woods was reached, with a clear bayou running through it, at the sight of which one glad cry broke from the ranks, and the brigade rushed eagerly to its banks. A halt was made beside this stream, until the men had fully quenched their thirst, and rested; then emerging from the woods, the old Semmesport Road came in sight, over which the [149] army had marched the year before; and, as the regiment passed by the familiar sugar-houses and plantations, sad memories rushed to the mind, of comrades who had then shared the toils and pleasures of the march, now done forever with life’s battles.

The army went into camp a mile beyond the resting-place of the previous year; and the next morning, after a march of eight miles reached the Atchafalaya, where a large number of transports and gun-boats were collected. Although the enemy had withdrawn from the front, he still hung in the rear; and on the 18th, an engagement took place, when the enemy were driven back by Gen. Mower, in command of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, assisted by the cavalry division. The Third and Sixth Massachusetts Cavalry made several brilliant charges in the action, did effective service, and lost a number of men.

ON the 18th, the Nineteenth Corps crossed the Atchafalaya, near which it remained, merely changing camp several times, until the 20th; and on the evening of that day, the entire naval and military force left Semmesport for the Mississippi. The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps were on the transports, on their return to the department from which they had been borrowed; while the Thirteenth and Nineteenth Corps, with the cavalry, were to continue the march through the country.

At the junction of the Atchafalaya and the Red Rivers the main army and the navy separated. The sun was setting as the long procession of river-boats, gun-boats, and monitors swept around the bend of the river; and a feeling of loneliness fell on the army as it turned inland, and took the course for the Mississippi.

[151]

The previous year, the country was everywhere flooded, and the water-mark could now be seen on the houses and trees; but the summer of 1864 was a dry one, and the roads in good condition to march. At midnight, the army went into camp; and the day following reached the banks of the Mississippi, at Morganza Bend, after one of the most fatiguing marches the regiment had ever experienced. After a great deal of manœuvring on the evening of the 21st and the forenoon of the following day, the division finally encamped on the sandy plain between the new levee and the river, where it quietly remained, recovering from the fatigue of the march, until the morning of the 30th, when the third brigade of the second division, and a portion of the Thirteenth corps, with cavalry and artillery, left the camp and took the road to the Atchafalaya.

The column marched until 10 A. M. , halted during the heat of the day, and started again at 8 P. M. As night came on, the road became poor, and marching difficult; but no danger was evidently anticipated by the commanding officer, for the usual precaution, when in an enemy’s country, of throwing out flankers, was dispensed with. Suddenly, from a thickly wooded hill on the left, across [152] a bayou, a volley of musketry broke upon the stillness of the night, taking effect in the Twenty Second Iowa, in advance of the Thirty Eighth. “Ambushed!” was the thought of all, as the ranks closed up, and formed in line of battle in good order. A battery sent a shell into the woods from whence the discharge had come; but there was no response; and, after remaining in line for a short time, the column moved forward, but had scarcely started when another volley came from the woods, this time directed against the regiments in the rear. The echoes had not died away, when a sheet of flame flashed along the line of the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth, followed by a crashing report.

Nothing more was heard from the enemy; and as soon as a bridge was reached, the Thirty Eighth was sent across the bayou, to act as “flankers.” The darkness could almost be felt; and as the men groped their way through the woods, falling into holes, tumbling over stumps, and occasionally running into a thorn-tree, with a lurking suspicion all the time, which was afterward confirmed, that the main army did not know of their presence across the stream, and that the accidental discharge of a rifle would be the signal for a murderous volley [153] from their friends, it will not be wondered at that respect for those in command was, for the time being, lost, and that officers and men alike were disgusted at the incompetency shown. It is needless to say that Gen. Emory was not with the expedition.

After a mile or two of this stumbling work, the column halted, it being then midnight, and “bivouacked in rear of the stacks.” One officer in the Twenty Second Iowa had been killed, and several men in the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New York, wounded, by the fire of the guerillas; and it was reported that a number of the enemy had been killed by the heavy volley of the two latter regiments. Several parties living near the spot were arrested, but their fate was never made known.

In the morning, the command retraced its steps, and marched back, to the resting-place of the day previous, where it remained during the night, getting the benefit of a summer rain. The next day, June 1, the expedition again marched toward the Atchafalaya, and remained in reserve a short distance from that river while the Seventh Massachusetts Battery shelled a saw-mill on the opposite side, destroying its machinery, and rendering it useless. [154] Another night was spent in the vicinity, and on the morning of the 2d the command marched back to camp, glad that the “saw-mill expedition” was over.

Nothing further transpired until the 6th of the month, when the paymaster arrived, and the division received four months’ pay, to its own satisfaction and to the great profit of the sutlers, who gathered as turkey-buzzards to a feast. With the exception of several reviews, for the gratification of travelling generals, the regiment remained in camp, sending out a picket every day, and drilling in the morning, until June 19, when it embarked on the steamer Starlight, and proceeded up the river as far as Fort Adams, in the State of Mississippi, the guerillas having made their appearance in that vicinity. This excursion was a pleasant one, the regiment bivouacking under the trees on the bank of the river during the day, and retiring on board the transport when the mosquitoes became troublesome at night. No enemy being discovered, the troops returned to Morganza on the 21st, and occupied their old camps.

From this time until the 1st of July, about all the volunteer labor performed by the men consisted in writing the two words “very hot” in their [155] diaries, although there was some involuntary work, such as corps reviews, inspections, etc., with the thermometer up to 100° in the shade, and the sand blistering to the feet; while the picket had a nightly contest with the mosquitoes,—Louisiana mosquitoes, be it remembered. On the 1st of July, the Sixth Massachusetts Cavalry (formerly the Thirty First Infantry) passed by Morganza in a transport, on their way home on furlough, having re-enlisted; and the Thirty Eighth formed in line on the river-bank, and gave them a farewell cheer.

The camp as usual was full of rumors with regard to future movements; and one day the brigade would be going to Texas; then to New Orleans to do provost duty; then they were to be transformed into marines, and patrol the river on steamboats; again, Col. Ingraham had procured a “soft thing for the regiment in Washington.” On the 3d of June, however, the brigade, now increased by the addition of the One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New York, embarked on board of the City of Memphis, and the next day (July 4), landed at Algiers, and went into camp, where it remained until the 20th. On the march to Morganza, for some frivolous pretext, the brigade commander, who was disliked by the entire brigade, [156] had put the lieutenant-colonel of the Thirty Eighth under arrest. The charges were investigated by a court-martial, and Lieut.-Col. Richardson was honorably acquitted and restored to his command. The entire absence, in this officer, of that pomp assumed by many of the Eastern officers, and which was seldom found in the Western regiments, together with his desire to make the duties of the rank and file as agreeable as was compatible with good discipline, and his superior military acquirements, had won the attachment of the regiment; and, upon his being restored to the command, the men procured a band, and serenaded him in his quarters, to which he replied in a neat speech.

The regiment remained at Algiers, trying to keep cool during the day, and fighting mosquitoes at night, until the 20th of July, when it took passage on the Karnack, with two companies of the Thirteenth Connecticut, and squads belonging to other regiments, and, bidding good-by to the Mississippi, was once more on the blue water. Fortunate was it for the Thirty Eighth that no storms disturbed the Atlantic during this passage, or their history would have had a sudden termination; for the vessel on which they embarked was old, and had been on the Florida reefs [157] the previous voyage; the crew scarcely knew one rope from another, and their officers knew very little more; the troops were packed so close, above deck and below, that there was barely room to turn over; the cooks, even by working all night, could not supply the men with half rations; and there was no protection whatever from the sun or the rain.

ON the eighth day after crossing the bar off the Mississippi, the ship reached Fortress Monroe, where Lieut.-Colonel Richardson received orders to proceed to Washington immediately. Entering the Potomac, the men realized that they were no longer on Louisiana waters; the hills stretching up from the river, the hay and grain fields just reaped, and the scattering farm-houses, being in striking contrast to the low banks of the Mississippi, with its plantations, its negro cabins, its orange-trees, and its alligators.

The steamer came to anchor off Alexandria; and was subsequently towed up to a wharf in Washington, the regiment remaining on board till morning, when it landed and marched through the city to Georgetown Heights. While resting on the sidewalk in Pennsylvania Avenue, the regiment received a visit from Col. Ingraham, who [159] appeared glad to see the boys, and who must have been struck with the great change in the appearance of his old command since he had last seen it.

All summer, the troops in Louisiana had been obliged to drink warm, dirty water, from rivers, bayous, and mud-holes; and when, upon arriving at Georgetown Heights, two cool, delicious springs were found bubbling out of the rocks, the satisfaction was unbounded, and many men lingered around them as if attracted by some fairy spell.

The stay in Georgetown was a short one. On Sunday afternoon, July 31, the regiment broke camp, and again marched through Washington, to the Baltimore depot. The closed stores, the crowd of church-going folks on the sidewalks, and the absence of vehicles in the streets, told the men of the Thirty Eighth that they were once more in a land where the Sabbath was outwardly observed, at least. A brief extract from a letter written a day or two after the march through Washington will give an idea of the interest which the arrival of troops at that time excited.

“.... There was an interest and a curiosity manifested by the citizens never exhibited in New Orleans. In that city, regiments might march through the streets from morning till night, and [160] no one would think of asking who they were, or where they came from. In Washington, on the contrary, the questions put to us were quite numerous. The deep color burnt into our faces by the Louisiana sun told plainly that we were no militia men, even if our marching and general appearance did not show it; and so the first question was, ‘What corps do you belong to?’ ‘The Nineteenth.’ ‘Oh, Banks’s men.’ And the inquirers generally appeared to be pleased at the information. A general surprise was shown at the smallness of the regiment; and one man asked me, ‘What company is that?’ ‘ Company! ’ said I, ‘That’s the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts regiment .’ ‘Where’s the rest of them?’ ‘A good many were buried in Louisiana.’ ‘Oh, you belong to the Nineteenth Corps.’ I expected, before we got through Washington, to be asked what squad we were.”

It must be remembered that the enemy then threatened Washington by way of Harper’s Ferry, and the arrival of the Nineteenth Corps was a great relief to their fears, although the regiments appeared small, accustomed as they were to the arrival of new regiments with full ranks.

After a supper at the “Soldier’s Rest,” the regiment [161] took the cars about eight o’clock, and reached Monocacy Junction a little before noon the next day, going into camp in a reaped grain-field, near the still smoking ruins of the depot, and in the vicinity of the battle-field of Monocacy, where the first division of the corps was then in camp.

No movement took place until the 4th of August, when the cars were again taken, and, in company with the Third Massachusetts Cavalry, which had been dismounted, the regiment rode to Harper’s Ferry, bivouacking for the night on the heights overlooking the town.

August 6th, the army broke camp, and marched to Halltown, four miles beyond Harper’s Ferry, where the Thirty Eighth was attached to the first brigade of the second division, then in command of Col. McCauley , of the Eleventh Indiana. On the 10th, the whole force, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, under Gen. Sheridan, moved forward in pursuit of the enemy, the cavalry skirmishing with their rear-guard; and, on the night of the 12th, the regiment went into camp a few miles beyond Middletown, near Cedar Creek.

The men of the Nineteenth Corps, who had been worn out by the Red River campaign, who had regained but a small portion of their strength [162] while encamped on the banks of the Mississippi under the burning sun, and who had been packed almost as close as slaves on the transports, began this new campaign under unfavorable circumstances. Unlike the level plains of Louisiana, the marching in this portion of Virginia was over hills and through valleys, and the summer heat was still intense; but the clear, cold springs all through the valley were a luxury the Thirty Eighth was unaccustomed to, and men lingered around them, drinking again and again.

The army remained at Cedar Creek until near midnight of the 15th, when, in danger of being flanked by the enemy, the whole command fell back toward Winchester, the Thirty Eighth going into camp at Milltown, where they remained during the day. The reveillé was beaten at one o’clock, A. M. of the 17th, and passing through Winchester, the regiment reached Berryville at noon, and went into camp.

Thursday, the 18th, opened with a rain-storm; but the weather seldom interfered with Gen. Sheridan’s operations, and the army still fell back, encamping at night in the vicinity of Charlestown, where the Thirty Eighth remained until the 20th, when, in pursuance of orders, it changed camp, and [163] rejoined the third brigade, which had just arrived in the Valley under the command of Col. Sharpe.

Sunday, Aug. 21, orders came to pack up; and the regiment formed in line of battle, stacked arms, and threw up breastworks, heavy skirmishing going on at the front; but, during the evening, again fell back, passed through Charlestown, and reached Halltown at one P. M. , of the 23d, going into camp for the night. During a heavy rain, the next day the regiment built more breastworks, and then moved to the left; but returned on the day following, and remained in camp until Sunday, the 28th, when the army again assumed the offensive, and advanced to Summit Point, a few miles beyond Charlestown. While these movements were being executed, skirmishing between the advance of one army and the rear of the other was continually going on, and the cavalry were almost constantly in the saddle.

On the 3d of September, the army again broke camp, and marched to Berryville, where a sharp encounter took place between a portion of the Eighth Corps and Early’s force; but the enemy retiring, the engagement did not become general. The third brigade, however, formed in line of battle, took up a position on a ledge of rocks, and [164] remained there all night, sending out two companies as skirmishers. Every one was wet through, and the wind swept coldly over the ledge.

Sunday, Sept. 4, the regiment was detached from the brigade, and marched further to the front, where new breastworks were thrown up, the rain still continuing; the enemy, all the while, shelling the line, and skirmishing constantly going on. During the next fortnight, but little worthy of mention transpired, except that the army here completed a third line of breastworks.

On the 14th, a detail was sent from each company to procure the blankets belonging to the men in the regiment, which had been packed at Baton Rouge previous to the Red River campaign, and which were then supposed to be at Harper’s Ferry; but upon the arrival of the detail at that place, it was found that the boxes had been sent to Washington, and the blankets were not received until late in October. When the weather permitted, company, battalion, and brigade drills took place while the regiment was encamped in this place.

Although Gen. Sheridan kept his own counsels, he was not deceived in regard to the movements of Early. At three o’clock, on the morning of the 19th of September, the reveillé was beaten in the [165] camps, and the army marched through Berryville, the Nineteenth Corps halting beyond, and being informed that they would probably fight on that spot. At this time, heavy cannonading was heard on the right, and at the front, where the cavalry was engaged. After halting an hour or two, the Nineteenth Corps advanced by the flank, passing a hospital into which great numbers of wounded men were being brought, who had fallen when the cavalry drove the enemy from the woods on each side of the Winchester Pike. Passing through a defile, the brigade came upon a high table-land, and formed in line of battle on the edge of a belt of woods between the opposing forces, the third brigade being at this time on the extreme left of the Nineteenth Corps, and connecting with the Sixth Corps. Each regiment sent out skirmishers, who advanced into the woods, followed by the brigade in line of battle; and emerging on to an open plain, which was crossed at a rapid pace, the enemy were encountered in the woods beyond, and the battle became hot.

The brigade had advanced too fast, leaving its right flank exposed; and, unable to withstand the heavy fire concentrated upon it, the Thirty Eighth fell back, having lost many officers and men. At [166] one time, the battle-flag was within a few yards of the banner of a rebel regiment, and its capture seemed imminent; but color-sergeant Lunt, supported by color-corporal Abbot, bravely carried it through. Col. Sharpe and Lieut.-Col. Richardson had been wounded; and the command of the brigade devolved upon Lieut.-Col. Neafie, of the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York, Maj. Allen taking command of the Thirty Eighth.

The regiment, as usual, had gone into battle with few officers. Lieuts. Whitney and Davis, and Sergt. Palmer, in command of companies, had been shot down, with many warrant officers, and many men; and in the retreat, owing to this fact, and to the nature of the ground, the regiment became separated from the brigade, which had been partially broken up by the impetuosity of the first charge. The men, however, rallied around the colors; and, under the lead of Major Allen and Adjutant Wellington, again sought the front of the fight.

After a desperate struggle, the enemy broke; and, having formed his army in three crescent-shaped lines of battle, Gen. Sheridan gave the order, “Forward!” Before that victorious charge, the veterans of Stonewall Jackson fled in confusion, [167] the whole rebel force went “whirling through Winchester,” and the Union army remained in possession of the hard-fought field.

The cavalry followed the retreating enemy, and gathered up the spoils of the victory; but the infantry went into camp on the outskirts of Winchester, and rested from the labor and excitement of the day, while the great news was silently speeding its way North to electrify and gladden the loyal hearts of the country. The Valley of the Shenandoah was no longer to recall memories of defeat and humiliation alone.

The loss in the regiment had been eight killed, thirty-eight wounded, eight prisoners, and one missing. A number afterward died from the effects of the wounds received; but those captured were remarkably fortunate, the majority of them being paroled in a few days, and sent to Annapolis.

THE battle was won, and now came the pursuit. Col. McCauley assumed the command of the third brigade, which broke camp at daylight of the 20th, and began the march up the Valley, reaching Strasburg in the evening. The next day, congratulatory orders from the President and Gen. Grant were read to the troops; and in the afternoon, the regiment changed camp, and took a new position on the hills overlooking Strasburg. The enemy were strongly entrenched on Fisher’s hill, in a position considered almost impregnable; but they were not allowed to remain in undisturbed possession long. At daylight, on the 22d, the Nineteenth Corps moved up in front, and constructed breastworks, driving in the rebel skirmishers from their rifle-pits. The Eighth Corps, passing up the north side of the mountain, took the enemy completely [169] by surprise, while the Nineteenth Corps charging in front, in three lines of battle, cheered on by Sheridan, drove them in confusion from their strongholds. It was near night, when the rebels fled; and the pursuit was kept up till morning, when Woodstock was reached.

In the heat of the pursuit, the advance forces were fired into by an ambush, and one man instantly killed. Some confusion ensuing, Gen. Emory rode up, and inquired what regiment it was. “Thirty Eighth,” was the reply. “Just the regiment I want,” said the old veteran; and he immediately formed the regiment in line of battle across the pike.

Soon after, it was sent forward to skirmish, and marched in that manner during the night, reaching Woodstock in the morning, and remained there till noon. Continuing the march, the brigade went into camp at night beyond the beautiful little town of Edenburg. The next day’s march (in column by brigade) was a fatiguing one, the Nineteenth Corps being obliged to make a flank movement at Mount Jackson, to drive the rebels from a thickly wooded hill beyond the Shenandoah River; and upon going into camp beyond Newmarket, the rear-guard of the retreating enemy was in sight.

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On Sunday, 25th, the brigade reached Harrisonburg, which was then full of wounded rebels, and remained quietly in camp until the 29th, when the Nineteenth Corps and one division of the Sixth Corps marched to Mount Crawford to support a cavalry movement, the Thirty Eighth acting as flankers, and being detailed at night as picket. The next day, the entire force moved back to Harrisonburg, having destroyed a great number of barns and mills.

During this march up the Valley, rations were often short, the supply-trains not being able to keep up; and the army was obliged to live partly on the country. The fine apples were especially prized after the long abstinence from vegetables and fruit; and the premium sheep afforded rich repasts to the hungry boys, who seldom stopped to inquire whether they were of the long or short wool species. Indeed, some of the city boys of the Thirty Eighth were not adepts in agricultural matters, or one of them would not have approached a “lord of the herd” with a coaxing “So, mooly; so, mooly,” his dipper carefully concealed behind him.

Remaining at Harrisonburg until Oct. 6th, on that day the regiment marched to Newmarket, [171] making eighteen miles, and, on the day following, had a still harder march of twenty-two miles. Still falling back, on the 8th Flint Hill was reached, where there was much suffering from the cold. On the 10th, after hearing orders from Gen. Sheridan, announcing a large capture of artillery, wagons, ambulances, and prisoners from Early, the army moved back to Cedar Creek, and again constructed breastworks. An engagement took place on the 14th, between a brigade of the Eighth Corps and a portion of Early’s troops, in which the Thirty Fourth Massachusetts lost heavily, Col. Wells, in command of the brigade, being killed.

On the evening of the 18th, the third brigade received orders to be in readiness in the morning for a reconnoissance, and were in line before daylight for that purpose, when a sudden crash of musketry on the left, where the Eighth Corps were encamped, gave intimation of an attack. The brigade was ordered to the breastworks immediately, and men sent forward to the creek, at the base of the hill, to give notice of the approach of the enemy. No attack was made in front; but, on the left, having flanked the Eighth Corps, and driven it back in confusion, the rebels fell upon the Nineteenth, of which the third brigade of the [172] second division was the extreme left, the Thirty Eighth being on the right of the brigade. Exposed to a severe cross-fire, the brigade-commander, Col. McCauley, being wounded, and the victorious rebels sweeping all before them, the regiment fell back, passed through the camp, and joined in the retreat. At this time the battle seemed lost, and all the manœuvring in the Valley for the past two months thrown away; but the enemy failed to follow up his advantage promptly; and the Union army, recovering from the confusion into which it had been thrown by the suddenness of the attack, reformed its scattered ranks, and disputed the further advance of the rebels, when the arrival of Gen. Sheridan on the ground at noon, put a new face upon matters. The army was no longer without a leader. A temporary breastwork of rails was thrown up, behind which the rebel advance was awaited; and, as they drew near, a terrific volley of musketry staggered and repulsed them. The tide was turning. Riding over the field, showing himself to every regiment, and everywhere received with enthusiasm, the presence of a master-spirit was at once felt; and when the proper time came, and the order was given to charge, the army advanced with a power that crushed all [173] resistance. The cavalry dashed into the broken ranks of the fleeing enemy, capturing them by hundreds, while the infantry pressed on eagerly toward the camps they had left in the morning. In this final charge, for almost the first time in its history, the regiment was in the second line of battle.

Back over the battle-ground where they had triumphed all day, over the Union breastworks, and beyond Cedar Creek, in one confused mass, the discomfited rebels fled, abandoning guns, wagons, rations, and even the plunder of the Union camps; while the victors took possession of their recovered quarters.

The men had lost everything not on their persons,—clothing, blankets, likenesses of friends, letters, journals of the two years’ service, and mementos of the Louisiana campaigns; and, worse than all, over thirty of their comrades were on their way to torture and starvation in Salisbury or the Libby. Leaving the cavalry to pursue the flying enemy, the infantry, cold and hungry, bivouacked for the night on their old camp-grounds. In the morning, the army moved two miles toward Strasburg, and remained there until the 21st, when the second division returned to Cedar Creek.

Congratulatory orders from the President to Gen. Sheridan were read to the troops on the 24th; and, on the 26th, the ever-welcome face of the paymaster appeared in camp. The Cambridge companies were gratified, on the 30th, by a visit from Mr. Wellington, who, as usual, brought many articles for the comfort of the men. With the exception of a corps review by Gens. Sheridan, [176] Wright, Cook, and Emory, on the 7th of November, nothing of importance transpired until the 9th, when the army fell back to Kearnstown, and went into quarters between that village and Winchester (Camp Russell), where heavy breastworks were thrown up. The enemy had not yet left the Valley. On the evening of the 10th, the wagons were packed in anticipation of an attack; and there was lively skirmishing at the front during the next day; but, the enemy did not appear in force, and Powell’s cavalry by a bold dash, made a large capture of prisoners and munitions of war.

Monday afternoon, Nov. 14, the regiment broke camp, and marched to Winchester; and, on the following morning started for Martinsburg, as guard to a supply-train, making the entire distance, twenty-two miles, before night. Leaving Martinsburg on the 19th, the regiment returned to camp near Winchester, and resumed camp duties.

The picket duty at Camp Russell was very severe, especially as the weather grew cold. No fires were allowed at night; a vidette was thrown out from every post; and, at daybreak, the picket-line deployed, and remained so until sunrise. At the same time, every regiment stood in line of battle behind the breastworks.

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Thanksgiving Day, the regiment received a portion of the poultry sent from the North for the soldiers; and, by clubbing together, nearly all the messes had a tolerable soup. A real Thanksgiving, however, arrived from Cambridge on the 27th; and then Cos. A, B, and F had turkeys and chickens and puddings in abundance. If the kind friends at home could have looked into those little tents at Camp Russell, at that time, they would have considered themselves repaid for all their trouble.

PREPARATIONS now began to be made for passing the winter at Camp Russell. The shelter-tents afforded poor protection against the snow-storms, which were becoming frequent, and boards were scarce; so, in every camp, log-villages arose, many of them far neater in appearance than the tenements in which families of poor whites had been reared on the banks of the Red River.

The regiment was putting up its last row of huts, when a sudden stop was put to all further work, by the reception, on the afternoon of the 20th, of marching orders; and before daylight the next morning, in the midst of a driving storm, the third brigade broke camp, and marched to Winchester, where the Thirty Eighth was selected to do provost duty, and quartered in deserted buildings in the vicinity of the Court House. A [179] portion of the duty here consisted in guarding the rebel prisoners brought in by the cavalry, and in taking squads of them to Harper’s Ferry.

The people in Winchester, and all through the Valley, were bitter foes to the Union, giving constant information to the enemy of all military movements; and many of the prominent citizens had been sent to Fort Henry, in Baltimore. The women adhered to the Confederate cause with a tenacity that could not but win respect, and daily brought baskets of food to the captured rebels. One day, it was the duty of the writer to notify the citizens to have the snow taken off their sidewalks within a certain specified time,—not a very pleasant task considering that the majority of the houses were tenanted by females. Some quietly said it should be done; others were not so tractable. One fair dame said, in a rich Virginia accent, that we had taken all the men off, and that she would see us “durn’d” before she’d shovel snow: she’d “go to the gurd-house first.” Fortunately, a “right smart rain” that night did the work, and saved the dignity of the fair ones.

The provost duty at Winchester was of short duration. Marching orders were received on the 5th of January; and before daylight the next [180] morning, the regiment was groping its way through the silent streets to the outskirts of the town, where it awaited the arrival of the brigade, under command of Lieut.-Col. Richardson, who had recovered from his wound, and returned to duty a few days previously.

The railroad terminated at Stephenson’s station, five miles from Winchester, and upon reaching that place, the brigade was obliged to wait several hours in a cold rain-storm while the train was made up, when, packed close in cattle-cars and on them, the division again brought together, rode to Baltimore, reaching that city on the morning of the 7th. The journey had been an uncomfortable one, those on the outside being exposed all night to the storm, while the men were packed so close inside that holes had to be cut in the cars to let in fresh air.

Upon arriving at Baltimore, the division quartered in the cavalry stables at Camp Carroll, near the old camp, Emory, from which the regiment had departed over two years before. The weather was cold, the boards were partly off the buildings, and the only way to keep comfortable was by building large fires in the centre of the stable, the smoke from which found its way in time through [181] the crevices in the roof. The Twenty Second Iowa occupied one side of the stable; and when the two regiments were frying pork over dozens of fires up and down the length of the building, it required strong lungs to stand the smoke and smell. Nevertheless, one Boston lady, Mrs. James H. Norris, an agent of the Christian Commission, learning that a Massachusetts regiment was in Baltimore, found it out, braved the unpleasant surroundings, and delivered mittens, socks, needle-books, etc., not only to those who needed them in the Thirty Eighth, but also to the Iowa boys. The regiment also had the pleasure of a visit from an old friend, the Rev. Dr. Ware, formerly of Cambridge, then pastor of a church in Baltimore, who had once made a visit to Camp Emory, and who now came loaded with packages of tobacco, stationery, and other articles acceptable to soldiers who had been months without pay. The doctor distributed his treasures not only to the Thirty Eighth, but to the Iowa boys on the opposite side of the stable. Dr. Ware repeated his visit, and gave an account of the impressions he received in two letters to the “Cambridge Chronicle,” which were perused with much pleasure by the men of the Thirty Eighth.

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The following extracts from these interesting letters will give the reader a view of the regiment from the “outside”:—

THE third brigade left Camp Carroll, Jan. 13th, and, marching through the streets of Baltimore,—its citizens not scowling at the troops as they did two years before,—took transports at the wharves, the Thirty Eighth embarking on the Oriental, in company with the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth and One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New York.

As usual, there were no cooking facilities; but the men had brought excellent appetites from the Shenandoah Valley, and two men found no difficulty in eating a raw ham in the eight days’ passage. Stores were taken on board at Fortress Monroe, and, at three o’clock, P. M. , of the 15th, the steamer took her departure for the South, arriving at the mouth of the Savannah River on the 19th, where she remained waiting for a pilot until the 23d.

No large ship had been up the main channel, [191] through the obstructions, since the occupation of Savannah by Gen. Sherman; and the undertaking was a delicate one. The men of the three regiments crowded the rigging and the deck, barely giving the pilot a chance to see his course; but had it been generally known that there were seventeen torpedoes still in the harbor, between the anchorage and the city, curiosity might not have been so active.

The passage of the obstructions was successfully made, and the city reached before dark. The warehouses, the wharves, and the few citizens seen, all had a decayed, broken-down look; and the fog hanging over the river added to the gloominess of the scene. On the Mississippi and in the Shenandoah Valley, the men of the Thirty Eighth had seen the destruction produced by actual conflict, where the shot and shell had whirled through the air, and plunged into storehouse and dwelling: here, they saw the effects of war on the prosperity of a thriving commercial city, which had seen no battle horrors, but which had been shut up within itself, to live on its own resources.

The regiment remained on board until morning, and then went into quarters in a warehouse on Bay Street, where it remained until the 26th, the [192] weather still being cool enough to make ice at night. At this time, Savannah presented a scene of desolation sad to behold, even in an enemy’s country. Pools of green, stagnant water stood in the principal streets; the beautiful squares had been stripped of their railings and fences to build the shanties of Sherman’s troops, who were encamped all through the city; the houses, as well as the stores, were shut up, and apparently tenantless; the broad avenues were deserted, except by passing soldiers, who vainly tried to fathom the mystery of the closed blinds, wondering if this were not one of the charmed cities pictured by Eastern story-tellers; and a green mould, beginning at the basement, seemed to be creeping up the sides of the houses.

Early Thursday morning, the 26th, the regiment left its quarters in Bay Street, and marched to the outskirts of the town, halting on the edge of a swamp, where the collection of dead mules and horses only awaited the rays of the summer sun to breed pestilence and death. At first, it was supposed that the halt in this, the most dismal-looking place to be found in the vicinity of Savannah, was to be only a temporary one; but, to the intense disgust of officers and men, orders were [193] received to lay out a camp. However, as Sherman’s troops were breaking camp to begin their famous march through the Carolinas, boards were plenty; and, in a few days, the regiment was more comfortably housed than it had yet been; while the mules and horses were buried, the company streets graded, and every precaution taken to make the camp healthy.

Sherman’s army, after leaving Savannah, were obstructed in their march by the flooding of the low lands; and it was still uncertain whether Hardee and Beauregard would permit him to sweep through the country unopposed. Consequently, some commotion existed in the camps of the second division of the Nineteenth Corps, when a sudden explosion of shells took place at midnight on the 27th. At first, it was thought by some, that Sherman had been forced back; but the church-bells beginning to ring, and the explosions becoming more rapid, the fact soon became apparent that the arsenal in which the rebel ammunition had been stored was on fire. A detachment from the regiment was sent for, and, under direction of Lieut. Copeland, who took charge of the engines, did efficient service in checking the progress of the fire, not, however, before it had [194] destroyed a great many blocks of brick and stone buildings. The negroes worked manfully at the engines, some of them being struck by the fragments of falling shells, which were thrown at a great distance over the city; but those of the inhabitants who were not immediately affected by the catastrophe, stood idly on the corners of the streets, with their hands in their pockets.

Afterward, another call was made, for all who were in camp to go on guard in the streets to prevent pillaging; and the entire regiment remained until daylight, when, returning to camp, in an hour or two, the greater part were detailed for picket or fatigue. The fatigue duty consisted in unloading stores sent from Boston and New York to the “suffering poor,” who were too lazy to unload it themselves. The duty of the regiment in Savannah consisted in unloading commissary stores, furnishing guards and pickets, and building breastworks; the men being on duty nearly every other night.

Gradually, the people began to steal out of their houses, and business, which always followed in the track of the Union armies, became better; but there was no loyalty yet. While the citizens condescended to take the supplies of food furnished [195] by government and by the North, their sympathies were with Lee behind the breastworks of Richmond, and with Johnson in Carolina. As soon as Gen. Grover took command of the post, he set all the unemployed people, black and white, at work cleaning up the city, and, in a short time, the streets were drained, the squares put in order, and the dead animals buried. Concerts were given in the Park several times a week by the bands of the Ninth Connecticut and the Fourteenth New Hampshire, and special guards appointed to preserve order; but, in spite of all the general could do for the comfort and pleasure of the citizens, they remained sulky.

The clergymen, especially, clung to the fortunes of the falling Confederacy; and notwithstanding a large portion of their audience on Sunday consisted of Union officers and soldiers, not a word of sympathy was expressed for the government, nor a word of reprobation for the cruelties of Andersonville, which were casting a blot on the fair fame of Georgia never to be forgotten while one victim of that prison-pen survives.

On Sunday the 19th, news was received of the evacuation of Charleston, and the guns of Fort Pulaski announced the fact to the unwilling ears [196] of the citizens. The birthday of Washington was celebrated by the firing of salutes, ringing of bells, and a cessation from all unnecessary labor. Good news now began to pour in fast. The fall of Charleston was soon followed by that of Wilmington; and the men began to lay plans, which they had never done before, of what they would do “when the war was over.” But the journeyings of the Thirty Eighth were not yet at an end. By the time the “shebangs” were made comfortable, and the camp-ground in good condition, marching orders were received, and the brigade was notified to pack up preparatory to taking transports.

On the 4th of March, the Twenty Fourth Iowa and the One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New York broke camp; and the next day, the Thirty Eighth, the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth, and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, accompanied by the band of the latter regiment, marched through the city, treating the citizens who were returning from church to a taste of Union music, and embarked on the steamer Ashland. Not one of the six regiments composing the brigade having a colonel present, the command was conferred upon Col. Day, of the One Hundred and Thirty First New York.

AT daylight, the steamer left the city arriving at Hilton Head about noon, where, after transferring the brigade head-quarters and a portion of the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth to another ship, she anchored for the night. Leaving Hilton Head the morning of the 7th, the mouth of Cape Fear River was reached about noon the next day. A flag was hoisted for a pilot; but none responding, the captain of the ship determined to follow the lead of another steamer, and go up to Wilmington. The Ashland was about a hundred yards astern of the other ship, when the latter suddenly grounded, and a collision seemed certain. Fortunately, there was time to change the direction, and the Ashland rubbed by, smashing a quarter-boat in the contact. Had the distance between the two vessels [198] been a few yards less, the effect upon both might have been disastrous.

Coming to an anchor off Fort Caswell, the troops had an opportunity to see the effects of heavy shot on an iron-clad,—one of the monitors that had taken part in the assault on Fort Fisher lying near. Soon a despatch-boat came alongside, with orders for the vessel to run up as far as Smithville, and there await further instructions.

While anchored off Smithville, a boat came down the river loaded with paroled prisoners, among them a number of the Thirty Eighth, who had been captured at Cedar Creek, had been sent to Salisbury prison, and were paroled upon the approach of Sherman’s cavalry. They all told the same old story of hunger and exposure.

After some delay, a pilot was procured, and the steamer started again for Wilmington, but owing to a thick fog, did not reach the city until morning, when, as she was hauling into the wharf, a harbor-master hailed the captain, wanting to know what brought him there when he had orders to go to sea. Down went the anchor again, and Lieut.-Col. Richardson went on shore to report, and see if anybody knew anything about the third brigade of the second division of the Nineteenth Army [199] Corps. Getting instructions, the lieutenant-colonel returned, and the ship again steamed down the river. Passing by Forts Anderson and Caswell, by the obstructions in the river, and by the wreck of Admiral Porter’s mock-monitor, the ship again anchored, and waited for the fog to lift. In the afternoon, a pilot came aboard, and, it being then clear, the steamer stood out to sea, the earthworks of Fort Fisher looming up like hills in the distance.

After a pleasant voyage along the coast of North Carolina, the transport reached Morehead City on the afternoon of the 8th, and landed the troops, who marched through the straggling village, and stacked arms beside the railroad track. The place was full of rumors in regard to fighting at Kinston, where Johnston was trying to overpower Schofield before the arrival of Sherman; and all the available troops were being sent to the front.

At eight o’clock, P. M. , the regiment crowded into and on top of its portion of an immense train of box-cars, and after a moonlight ride through the turpentine forests of North Carolina, reached Newbern at midnight, waking the town with cheers; for the brisk March air made the blood run quick, and the men were in the best of spirits.

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Disembarking at the depot, the regiment stacked arms, and soon numerous camp-fires were blazing, and the indispensable coffee boiling.

The rumors had grown less warlike as the train approached Newbern; and upon arriving at that place, the troops were informed that they were just too late,—that the fighting was all over, and that their services were not needed. The men of the third brigade had been in the field too long to be “spoiling for a fight,” and were not sorry at being “counted out” of a battle just on the eve of peace.

The night was sufficiently frosty to harden the ground; and after drinking their coffee, the men spread their blankets, and were soon in repose. In the morning, the brigade marched a short distance beyond the city, and quartered in buildings formerly occupied as a hospital.

Newbern had been occupied for so long a time by the Union forces, that its garrison had acquired habits different from those in vogue in campaigning regiments; and the advent in their midst of such a brigade as the third made quite a commotion. As soon as they had stacked arms, the men, as usual, began to hunt for boards and other articles to make themselves comfortable, in case of [201] going into camp in the vicinity. In an out-building, some A tents were found packed away; and, as A tents were a luxury the Thirty Eighth had not known for many days, they were at once appropriated. A commissary sergeant of a certain Massachusetts regiment soon came after the property, saying that they belonged to his company, and that he would be responsible for them. “No, you won’t,” said the Company E boys, whose portion of the prize was claimed. “You can account for them as lost in action.” This way of accounting for property was beyond the commissary’s experience, and he invoked the aid of the adjutant to recover the tents. He supposed that he got them, but afterward two canvas structures towered suspiciously above the dog-tents at Morehead.

There being no call for the services of the regiment at Newbern, it was sent back to Morehead City, arriving at that place in the afternoon, and going into camp in a grave-yard, between the railroad track and the river. The Nineteenth Corps was pretty well broken up at this time,—the first division being still in the Valley with Sheridan, the second division scattered through Georgia and Carolina, and the third division in Louisiana.

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Morehead City had been selected as the base of supplies for Sherman’s army, and wharves were being built, storehouses erected, and additional railroad tracks laid, while the harbor was crowded with vessels of all descriptions, awaiting their turn to be unloaded. The work of unloading the ships and loading the cars was done principally by the men of the third brigade, assisted by colored soldiers and contrabands; and there was no cessation of labor, night or day,—one detail going on, when another came off. As a relief to the hard work, oysters and clams were to be procured in abundance a few hundred yards from the camp; and, as soon as the tide receded, the beach was covered with oystermen.

Nothing occurred to break the monotony of the daily and nightly fatigue duty till Sunday, March 26th, when one of the old Louisiana style of “scares” took place. The assembly sounded, the regiment formed in line, and the pickets were reinforced; but beyond the blaze and smoke from a large fire in the pine woods, and the occasional discharge of a piece of artillery, no signs of any enemy were seen, and it soon appeared that the alarm had been occasioned by the report of an “intelligent contraband,” that the enemy was [203] marching on Morehead in force,—said contraband having heard a battery practising at a target.

April 7, the great news of the battle in front of Richmond and Petersburg, resulting in the defeat of Lee, was read to the troops, causing much rejoicing, although they did not commit such extravagances as the speculators in the exchanges of New York and Boston,—accounts of whose proceedings were read with amazement by the soldiers in the field.

A change had been made in the military programme, and Morehead was no longer to be the great base of supplies. At noon of the 8th, orders were received to pack up, and three o’clock, P. M. , found the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth again on the road to Newbern on platform cars. Newbern was not the destination, however; and the train finally reached Goldsborough at three o’clock in the morning. Great numbers of recruits and high-bounty men had passed over the road lately; and, at the various wood and water stations, the old soldiers gathered around the train with such queries as, “How much bounty did you get?” “How long did you enlist for?” “Where’s your cow?” etc. One fellow, trying to get a nearer look in the moonlight, [204] exclaimed, “Why, they are colored troops.” So they were “colored,” compared with many who had passed over the road lately. When it was known that the brigade had been “in the Valley with Sheridan,” there was a change in the tone of the remarks.

The regiment bivouacked near the depot till morning, when the back mails that had been sent to Savannah, arrived, and were assorted. Sherman’s entire army was encamped about Goldsborough; and the five corps broke camp, and began the march toward Raleigh the day after the arrival of the Thirty Eighth. Among all that force of veteran troops, none appeared to better advantage, or had a more military bearing, than the famous Thirty Third Massachusetts, who had charged under Joe Hooker at Lookout Mountain, and who had marched from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence to Goldsborough.

Upon the departure of Gen. Schofield, Gen. Birge was left in command of the post, and the Thirty Eighth selected to do duty in the town,—Cos. A, B, D, and K as provost guards, and the remaining six companies to guard the commissary stores.

Two days after the departure of Sherman’s [205] troops, the news of Lee’s surrender was received, and glad enough were the men of the Thirty Eighth that the grand old Army of the Potomac had the honor of giving the finishing stroke to the rebellion.

While the whole army was jubilant at the speedy prospect of peace, and of the country being once more united, and when a feeling of pity for the defeated rebels was becoming prevalent among the soldiers, a wild rumor reached Goldsborough on the 17th that President Lincoln had been assassinated. The news was so horrible that it was not believed, and the next day it was reported that he had received only a slight flesh wound.

Then came the tidings that Johnston had surrendered his entire force to Sherman; and, without knowing the precise terms,—willing to put all confidence in Sherman’s integrity,—the soldiers in North Carolina gave way to an enthusiasm that none of the previous victories had excited. All day they poured into the government printing-office to learn if the report was official; and crowds gathered about the orders posted on the buildings. But the next day, the report of the assassination was confirmed; and then a revulsion of feeling took place, and Eastern and Western men alike, in stern [206] tones, hoped that hostilities would be resumed. Few of the citizens of Raleigh or Goldsborough dreamed of the slumbering fire in their midst, that the least provocation would have fanned into a flame that would have destroyed all before it; and it required all of Gen. Sherman’s tact to keep his men quiet.

The paroled rebel soldiers, to their credit be it said, were unanimous in denouncing the assassination; and were determined to allow of no guerilla warfare in the State, now that the main armies had surrendered. Perfect good feeling existed between the late belligerents, although it was rather tantalizing to the Union soldiers, who had been from home so long, to see the ladies crowd around and caress the gray jackets.

The terms of Johnston’s surrender not proving acceptable at Washington, a new arrangement was made; and the lieutenant-general himself came on to ratify it. On his return, while passing through Goldsborough, a wheel came off the engine, and the general was obliged to leave the car, and wait for another locomotive. The news soon spread that Gen. Grant was in town; and he was flanked at every turn by the admiring soldiers, who didn’t ask him for a speech , however.

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The companies on provost were quartered in the Court House; and those doing guard-duty had erected comfortable “shebangs,” with the hope of occupying them until they left for home, when marching orders were received, and colored troops arrived to relieve them. Breaking camp during the evening of the 1st of May, the regiment bivouacked in the grounds of the Court House till morning, and then took the cars for Morehead City.

At all the little settlements on the road, women waved their handkerchiefs, probably glad enough to see the stream of blue-coats again turned northward. Passing through Newbern, the train reached Morehead about sundown, and the regiment bivouacked in the old camp-ground, among the graves, where it remained until the 4th, when it embarked on the transport Thetis, in company with the One Hundred and Twentieth New York and the division horses !

The men thought they had already tasted every flavor capable of being produced from coffee; but a new experience awaited them on this transport. The drink was made by putting the ground coffee in an empty pork-barrel, and letting on steam through a rubber hose; and the result was a beverage in which the taste of the barrel, the rubber [208] hose, the cask-water, and the coffee, struggled for the mastery. One ration was sufficient for some companies, although the New York boys drank a quart of it twice or three times a day.

On the morning of the 6th, after a search of several hours for Hilton Head, the officers of the steamer ascertained their whereabouts; and, at noon, the ship arrived off the Savannah River, when a pilot was procured, and the voyage continued to Savannah. The troops remained on board until Sunday morning; when they disembarked, and took possession of the camps just vacated by a portion of the first brigade, which had gone to Augusta.

SAVANNAH had changed essentially within the past two months. By the surrender of Lee and Johnston, all hopes of establishing Southern independence were at an end; and the people were evidently about to submit quietly, and make the best of their situation. The streets swarmed with paroled rebels; and the gold stripes and fine uniforms of the Union staff-officers had no attractions in the eyes of the ladies, compared with the simple gray jackets of those they had sent into the field, and whom they now warmly welcomed home, notwithstanding the failure of their arms. The tenacity with which the females of the Southern States clung to their cause, and the great sacrifices which they made for it, could not but win the respect of those who witnessed it; and seldom did a Union soldier, [210] no matter what might be the provocation, treat them with other than the most respectful courtesy. But no such feelings were felt for the clergy, who were equally devoted to the rebel cause. Preachers of the gospel of peace, they had been foremost in fomenting the rebellion; they had never lifted their voices against the cruelties of the prisons,—which exceeded those of Morocco in her worst days,—or tried in the least to soften the barbarities of war; and now, when all hope of Southern success was at an end, and resistance to the government, either active or passive, a crime, they yielded a sullen submission, or opposed a petty resistance to the acts of the military rulers. And it is a strange fact, that, even in the Northern pulpit, the demands for vengeance against the military leaders of the Confederacy were greater than any that proceeded from the army; and more than one minister advocated the breaking of the agreement on the faith of which Lee surrendered to Gen. Grant,—a proceeding which would have been looked upon with disgust by every soldier in the army, as much as they detested Lee and his treason. As the Thirty Eighth Regiment never had the services of a chaplain, even to give their dead comrades a Christian burial, perhaps they were not properly instructed.

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Not only in the appearance and sentiments of the citizens had a change taken place in Savannah; but the city itself had greatly improved under the auspices of Gen. Grover, and it had become one of the most desirable places in which to do garrison duty in the South. Time hung heavily, however, on the hands of the men of the Thirty Eighth. The war was over; the object for which they had volunteered was accomplished; and now they wished to lay aside their uniforms, and resume their citizenship. Beside, every mail from the North brought accounts of the mustering out of troops, and of the reduction of the army.

On the 11th of May, the second brigade and the Twenty Fourth Iowa and the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York broke camp, to march to Augusta, leaving the remaining regiments of the third brigade to do the light picket-duty, which was now merely nominal, and which was kept up chiefly to prevent an illicit trade between the city and the country before proper regulations were established.

The appearance and habits of the country people, who daily passed out and in the lines, were amusing to men who had been accustomed to the New England way of doing things. Some of them [212] came thirty miles to market, with a dozen or two of eggs, a pair of chickens, and a few vegetables. It took them one day to come, another to do their business, and a third to return. And then such vehicles were never seen north of Mason and Dixon’s line. The women generally accompanied their husbands, and rode on the mule attached to the wagon, with a snuff-stick or a pipe in their mouth. Sometimes, on reaching the picket-fire, they would take the snuff-stick out, and get one of the pickets to light their pipe; and, if reports were true, when the pipe went out, a quid of tobacco would take its place. This custom of snuff-dipping appeared to be practised chiefly in Georgia and North Carolina,—in the latter State, ladies of intelligence and refinement indulging in the habit: it was not observed in Louisiana.

Little occurred during the remainder of the stay in Savannah to break the monotony of camp-life, or which is deserving of record. The regiment daily looked for orders which would send them home, and all the conversation and thought of the men turned to that theme. On the 16th, Jeff. Davis passed down the river, on the way to Hilton Head. A portion of the Sixth U. S. Regulars arrived on the 21st, and quartered in the town,—all [213] branches of the service being now represented, regulars, volunteers, and colored troops. The dress-parades of the latter were attended by almost the entire colored population, who, upon the close of the parade, swarmed through the principal avenues, monopolizing the sidewalks, to the annoyance of the white citizens, and the amusement of the soldiers.

Thursday, June 1, Cos. C and G, under command of Capt. Bennett, started for Darien, Ga., with twenty days’ rations; and the regiment gave up all hope of getting home before their full time was served. The picket was taken off on the 2d, and restrictions to trade removed; and the only duty to be done consisted in furnishing a few guards to watch the breastworks.

The re-enlisted regiments of the first division of the Nineteenth Corps began to arrive in Savannah on the 5th of June, for the purpose of relieving those troops whose time would expire before the 1st of November; and the hopes of getting home in a few days arose again. On the 7th, the first brigade reached the city from Augusta; and, on the 9th, the Twenty Fourth Iowa, and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth, and One Hundred and Seventy [214] Sixth New York began the march for that place.

Time had never passed so slowly with the regiment before, as during this month of June, when there was nothing to do but to talk of home all the long summer-day. Some tried to pass the time in picking blackberries; some in manufacturing bone rings, corps badges, and other trinkets; while others, and in the afternoon this class included nearly the whole regiment, sought refuge in sleep. The occasional arrival of a mail brought a little change; but then the letters and papers were all filled with accounts of the return home of regiments, and with the anxiety with which friends awaited the Thirty Eighth. Attempts were made to excite an interest in drilling; but it was up-hill work, and officers and men alike soon tired of it.

Orders, at last, came from department head-quarters to muster out the regiment; and on the 9th, the officers began to work on a few copies of blank rolls that had been received; but Cos C and G were still absent, and delegations from the camp hourly visited the wharves, and closely scanned every approaching steamer, to be the first to herald their arrival. The first question upon awaking in the morning was, “Have C and G got [215] back yet?” At length, the well known beat of drummer Howe was heard in the camp, and the men rushed out of their tents to greet their comrades, who were never so welcome before. Major Allen, who had been acting as provost marshal at Augusta, joined the regiment the same day, and other detailed men were returned to their commands.

By some oversight in the chief mustering officers’ department, there were no blank-rolls on hand, and none arrived until the 23d; but then all other duties were at once suspended, including an inspection which was to have taken place, and the officers worked night and day on the rolls. On the 26th, the recruits, and the colored under-cooks who had been enlisted at Baton Rouge, less than thirty in all, were transferred to the Twenty Sixth Massachusetts, leaving the regiment with less than three hundred of the ten hundred and forty who had left the State three summers previously.

Finally, the papers were all completed; but there was no transportation. It seemed to be the fate of the regiment to serve its full time out. Every other regiment organized under the call of 1862 had already reached home; and, on account of their being a greater portion of their time in [216] a distant department, probably fewer men of the Thirty Eighth had ever received furloughs than those of any other command. Ill feeling began to arise between the men and the officers, the former, in their nervous, excited state, charging their officers with not using proper exertions to get home. A few words, however, from the lieut.-colonel, at the close of the last dress-parade that took place, on the evening of the 29th, cleared away the cloud and restored good feeling.

In the forenoon of June 30, the welcome orders came, “strike tents, to go home.” The orders had scarcely left the mouths of the orderlies, before the men were swarming on the roofs of the shebangs.

The shelter-tents and mosquito-nets, with all property belonging to the government, except guns and equipments, were at once turned in, and the knapsacks packed ready to start.

An order had been issued by the war department, a short time previously, allowing the soldiers to keep their guns and equipments by paying six dollars each for them,—about the price they would bring at a public sale; nearly all the men in the Thirty Eighth had concluded to take them, and for several days previous to this had been busily at work, polishing the barrels, varnishing [217] the stocks, and making covers to keep them in good order on the passage home.

At five o’clock, the assembly was blown, the regimental line formed, and, escorted by the drum-corps of the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York, the regiment marched through the city, with muzzled guns, and embarked on the steamer Fairbanks,—a small blockade-runner, barely large enough to accommodate the reduced command.

The boat left the wharf at eleven o’clock, and proceeded down the river, anchoring at the mouth until daylight, when she steamed up to Hilton Head, to land a portion of the cargo. At two, P. M. , she left Hilton Head, and steered north. It was the general desire to reach home before the 4th of July, but the sailing qualities displayed by the transport during the first two days dispelled that hope. On the afternoon of Wednesday, Gay’s Head was made,—the first New England land the majority of the regiment had seen for three years. A pilot was taken off Holmes’s Hole, and the men retired to their quarters with the expectation of being in Boston Bay before morning. But it was the day after the Fourth, and the lights looked hazy to the eyes of the old [218] pilot; so he concluded to anchor back of Cape Cod until morning. The cool northern breeze was in striking contrast to the soft summer airs of Savannah; and the men shivered under the slight clothing they had brought.

In the morning, the ship weighed anchor, and continued the voyage. It seemed as if Cape Cod would never be doubled: headland succeeded headland, until, finally, the point was passed, and the bay entered. As the towns and villages on the South Shore came in sight, eager eyes were strained to catch a glimpse of the one spot so long the object of thought. The luxuriant banks of the Mississippi, or the historical ones of the Potomac, had no charms compared with the dwarfed shrubbery of Cohasset, of Scituate, of Marshfield, and of Plymouth.

At nine o’clock, the steamer cast anchor off Deer Island. The pilot objected to taking her up to the wharf without a permit from the health officers; and the lieut.-colonel and Surgeon Ward went on shore, and procured the necessary papers. But the regiment was not allowed to get home so easily. Just as the mouth of the harbor was entered, a sputtering little quartermaster’s boat came alongside and ordered the captain to land the [219] troops at Gallop’s Island. The lieutenant-colonel, however, had been too long in the field to take orders from every boy who talked loudly, and directed the captain to proceed to the wharf. When off Long Wharf, the tug-boat again came alongside, and the officer, in a more respectful tone, informed the commander of the regiment that the order for the troops to land on the island was from head-quarters, and, at the same time, offered to take him on shore to report. It was now midnight; and there being no hope of landing, the men left the decks and retired.

The morning opened with a cold rain; and at nine o’clock, the steamer proceeded to Gallop’s Island, where the regiment landed, and went into quarters in barracks. Here, in sight of the homes from which most of them had been absent for three years, the men remained while the muster-out rolls were being examined, and preparations made to pay them. Three passes to each company were allowed for twenty-four hours; but a majority of the men lived at such a distance that they were of no avail.

In the meantime, the City of Cambridge had been making great preparations to give the entire regiment a reception; and the furloughed soldiers [220] were everywhere questioned in the streets by the school-children as to their discharge.

The rolls were at last pronounced correct; and on the evening of the 12th, the paymaster announced his intention of coming to the island the next morning. A grand illumination of the barracks took place that night, while the rolls were being signed; and the officers on duty on the island found it difficult to enforce the order in regard to putting out the lights at taps. Early on the morning of the 13th, the companies formed in line, marched to the office of the paymaster, signed the rolls for eleven months’ pay, and received the honorable discharge so eagerly looked forward to. Then, taking passage on the ferry-boat the regiment landed on Commercial Wharf, where it was met by the Committee of Reception from Cambridge, who had provided teams to carry the knapsacks.

Headed by Gilmore’s band, the regiment marched through Boston to Craigie’s Bridge, where its arrival was announced by a salute, and by the ringing of bells. A long procession here awaited to escort it through East and Old Cambridge to the pavilion erected at Cambridgeport. The military companies appeared with full members; the Reserve [221] Guard,—in whose ranks were noticed old friends who had visited the regiment in field and camp,—had left their business to welcome the returned volunteers; the firemen had decorated and polished their engines until they looked like elaborate pieces of ornamental work; a cavalcade of ladies, dressed with exquisite taste and with cheeks freshened by the spirited exercise, graced the occasion with their presence; while thousands of school-children, bubbling over with joy, lined the streets.

And in addition to all, there were old comrades-in-arms,—some who had been stricken down by the storm of lead that filled the air on that June Sunday at Port Hudson; others who, wounded and faint, had anxiously watched the ebb and flow of victory at the Opequan; still others who had experienced the horrors of Salisbury, after the surprise at Cedar Creek. Not until then did the men know how close were the ties that bound those together who for months or years had shared a common lot. But the regiment was now in the hands of its friends; and the account of its reception will be told in the words of the “Cambridge Chronicle” of the following Saturday, greatly condensed, however:—

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In obedience to the order of the Mayor, the regiment made an attack on the refreshment tables, and achieved a complete victory. The assembly was then called to order, and an eloquent address of welcome made by Mayor Merrill, which was appropriately responded to by Lieut.-Col. Richardson. Addresses were also made by ex-Governor Washburn, ex-Mayor Russell, and Gen. Hincks. But the volunteers, many of whom lived at a distance, were anxious to reach the homes where their presence was so eagerly awaited, and the majority took their leave as soon as the repast was ended. A display of fireworks in the evening closed the ceremonies of the day.

All honor to Cambridge, who never forgot her soldiers in the field, and who welcomed them home [230] more warmly than she sent them away. Many whose citizenship is in other portions of the State will long remember her deeds, and rejoice at her prosperity.

Warm welcomes were extended to the men from New Bedford, Lynn, Abington, and other towns, upon their arrival home. Company E was tendered a public reception by the city authorities of Lynn, but declined the honor. Abington gave a fine reception to all her returned soldiers, including those belonging to the Thirty Eighth.

Four months have now passed since the members of the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts Regiment resumed their duties as citizens. They have settled in different portions of the country, and are engaged in all the various branches of civil industry; but not one has brought discredit upon the fair fame of the regiment, or proved that he is less capable of being a good citizen because he became a soldier at the call of the country.

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In Memoriam.

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[233]

[236]

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[241]

Regimental Roll.

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ROLL OF THE REGIMENT.