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THE ORGANIZATION AND MAKE-UP OF THE FIGHTING MACHINE CALLED "THE ARMY."

We remained a day in bivouac after joining the Gibraltar brigade at Rockville, during which rations of fresh beef, salt pork, and "hardtack" (the boys' nickname for hard bread) were issued to the army, also ammunition.

The method of issuing rations was as follows: Colonels of regiments were directed to send in requisitions for so many days' rations, depending on the movements on hand, of hard bread and pork, and usually one day's rations of fresh beef. At brigade head-quarters these requisitions were consolidated, making the brigade requisition, and forwarded to division head-quarters. Here they were again consolidated into a division requisition, and so on until the army head-quarters was reached. Then the corps commissary received in bulk enough for his corps, and distributed it to the divisions in bulk, thence to brigades in bulk, thence to regiments, and finally from the regiment to the companies, and to the men. A long string of red tape, surely; and it might have been considerably shortened to the advantage of all, as it was later on.

REV. A. H. SCHOONMAKER CHAPLAIN

J. W. ANAWALT MAJOR AND SURGEON

G. K. THOMPSON FIRST LIEUT. AND ASS'T SURGEON

An interesting feature of the issue of rations was the method of supplying the fresh beef. Live cattle were driven to the army and issued alive to the several corps, from which details were made of men who had been butchers, who killed and dressed the beef. The animals were driven into an enclosure and expert marksmen shot them down as wanted. This seemed cruel work, but it was well done; the animal being hit usually at the base of its horns, death was instantaneous. This fresh meat, which we got but seldom after the march began, was cooked and eaten the day it was issued. Enough for one day was all that was issued at a time, and this, after the non-eatable portions had been eliminated, did not overburden the men.

The hard bread was a square cracker about the size of an ordinary soda cracker, only thicker, and very hard and dry. It was supposed to be of the same quality as sea biscuit or pilot bread, but I never saw any equal to that article. The salt pork was usually good for pork, but it was a great trial to us all to come down to camp fare, "hardtack and pork." Sometimes the "hardtack" was very old and poor. I have seen many a one placed in the palm of the hand, a smart blow, a puff of breath, and mirabile! a handful of "squirmers"—the boys' illustration of a "full hand." It came to be the rule to eat in daylight for protection against the unknown quantity in the hardtack. If we had to eat in the dark, after a prolonged march, our protection then lay in breaking our cracker into a cup of boiling coffee, stir it well and then flow enough of the coffee over to carry off most of the strangers and take the balance on faith.

On the march each man carried his own rations in haversacks. These were made of canvas and contained pockets for salt, sugar and coffee, besides room for about two days' rations of hard bread and pork. Sometimes five, six, and seven days' rations were issued, then the balance had to be stowed away in knapsacks and pockets of the clothing. When, as was usual in the latter cases, there was also issued sixty to one hundred rounds of ammunition, the man became a veritable pack-mule.

For the first month many of our men went hungry. Having enormous appetites consequent upon this new and most strenuous mode of life, they would eat their five days' supply in two or three, and then have to "skirmish" or go hungry until the next supply was issued. Most, however, soon learned the necessity as well as the benefit of restricting their appetites to the supply. But there were always some improvident ones, who never had a supply ahead, but were always in straights for grub. They were ready to black boots, clean guns, in fact, do any sort of menial work for their comrades for a snack to eat. Their improvidence made them the drudges of the company.

Whatever may be said about other portions of the rations, the coffee was always good. I never saw any poor coffee, and it was a blessing it was so, for it became the soldiers' solace and stay, in camp, on picket and on the march. Tired, footsore, and dusty from the march, or wet and cold on picket, or homesick and shivering in camp, there were rest and comfort and new life in a cup of hot coffee. We could not always have it on picket nor on the march. To make a cup of coffee two things were necessary besides the coffee, namely, water and fire, both frequently very difficult to obtain. On picket water was generally plentiful, but in the immediate presence of the enemy, fire was forbidden, for obvious reasons. On the march both were usually scarce, as I shall show later on. How was our coffee made? Each man was provided with a pint tin cup. As much coffee as could comfortably be lifted from the haversack by the thumb and two fingers—depending somewhat on the supply—was placed in the cup, which was filled about three-fourths full of water, to leave room for boiling. It was then placed upon some live coals and brought to a boil, being well stirred in the meantime to get the strength of the coffee. A little cold water was then added to settle it. Eggs, gelatin, or other notions of civilization, for settling, were studiously (?) omitted. Sometimes sugar was added, but most of the men, especially the old vets, took it straight. It was astonishing how many of the "wrinkles of grim visaged war" were temporarily smoothed out by a cup of coffee. This was the mainstay of our meals on the march, a cup of coffee and a thin slice of raw pork between two hardtacks frequently constituting a meal. Extras fell in the way once in a while. Chickens have been known to stray into camp, the result of a night's foraging.

Among the early experiences of our boys was an incident related to me by the "boy" who was "it." He said he had a mighty narrow escape last night.

I asked, "How was that?"

"Out hunting for chickens, struck a farmhouse, got a nice string, and was sneaking my way out. Dark as tar. Ran up against man, who grabbed me by the collar, and demanded 'what are you doing here?' I was mum as an owl. He marched me out where there was a flickering light, and sure as blazes it was old General Kimball. I didn't know that house was brigade head-quarters.

"'What regiment do you belong to?'

"'Dunno.'

"'You've heard about the orders against marauding, eh?'

"'Dunno.'

"'Hand up those chickens, you rascal.'

"I handed them out from behind my shaking legs.

"'How many have you got?'

"'Dunno'—I had two pair of nice ones. The old man took out his knife and slowly cut out one pair, looking savagely at me all the time.

"'There! You get back to camp as quick as your legs will carry you, and if I ever get my hands on you again you'll remember it.'" He said he thought he'd try and forage away from head-quarters next time. General Kimball was a rigid disciplinarian, but withal a very kind-hearted man. He no doubt paid for those chickens rather than have one of his boys suffer for his foraging escapade. Perhaps I ought to say a word about these foraging expeditions to eke out the boys' larder. These men were not thieves in any sense and very few attempted this dubious method, but the temptation was almost beyond the power of resistance. The best way to test this temptation is to diet yourself on "hardtack" and pork for just about one week. Then the devil's argument—always present—was practically true there, "the chickens will be taken (not stolen) by some of the army, and you might as well have one as anybody."

The following story of a neighboring regiment will show that even officers high in rank sometimes found that "circumstances alter cases." The troops were nearing bivouac at the close of the day, and, as usual, the colonel ordered the music to start up and the men to fall into step and approach camp in order (the march is usually in route step—i.e., every man marches and carries his gun as he pleases). The fifes and the snare-drums promptly obeyed, but the big bass drum was silent. The men fell into cadence step in fine shape, including the bass drummer, but his big shell gave forth no sound. The colonel called out, "What's the matter with the bass drum?" Still no response. A second ejaculation from head-quarters, a little more emphatic, fared no better. Patience now exhausted, the colonel yelled, "What in h—l's the matter, I say, with——" when a sotto voice reached his ear, with "Colonel, colonel, he's got a pair of chickens in his drum, and one is for you." "Well, if the poor fellow is sick, let him fall out."

A little explanation now about how the army is organized will probably make my story clearer. That an army is made of three principal arms, viz., artillery, cavalry, and infantry, is familiar to all; that the cavalry is mounted is also well known, but that in actual fighting they were often dismounted and fought as infantry may not be familiar to all. The cavalry and infantry—or foot troops—are organized practically alike, viz., first into companies of 101 men and officers; second, into regiments of ten companies, or less, of infantry and twelve companies, more or less, of cavalry, two or more companies of cavalry constituting a "squadron," and a like number of companies of infantry a "battalion;" third, into brigades of two or more—usually four—regiments; fourth, divisions of two or more—usually three—brigades; fifth, army corps, any number of divisions—usually not more than three. Logically, the rank of officers commanding these several subdivisions would be colonel, commanding a regiment; brigadier-general, his rank being indicated by one star, a brigade; a major-general, two stars, a division; a lieutenant-general, three stars, an army corps; and the whole army a general, his rank being indicated by four stars. This was carried out by the Confederates in the organization of their armies. But not so with ours. With few exceptions—ours being one—the brigades were commanded by the senior colonels, and towards the end of the war this was sometimes temporarily true of divisions; the divisions by brigadiers, whilst we had no higher rank than that of major-general until General Grant was made, first, lieutenant-general, and finally general.

The artillery was organized into companies commonly called batteries. There were two branches, heavy and light artillery. The former were organized more like infantry, marched on foot and were armed with muskets in addition to the heavy guns they were trained to use. The latter were used against fortifications and were rarely brought into field work. The light artillery were mounted either on the horses or on the gun-carriages, and, though organized into a separate corps under the direction of the chief of artillery, were usually distributed among the divisions, one or two batteries accompanying each division.

In addition to these chief branches of the service, there was the signal corps, the "eyes" of the army, made up mostly of young lieutenants and non-commissioned officers detailed from the several regiments. There were two such officers from Scranton, namely, Lieutenant Fred. J. Amsden, One Hundred and Thirty-sixth Pennsylvania Volunteers, and Lieutenant Frederick Fuller, Fifty-second Pennsylvania Volunteers, besides a number of enlisted men.

Another important branch of the service was the telegraph corps. It was remarkable the celerity with which wires would be run along the ground and on brush, day by day, keeping the several corps constantly in touch with the commanding general. There were comparatively few telegraph operators that could be detailed, and many had to be hired—some boys who were too young to enlist. Dr. J. Emmet O'Brien, of this city, was one of the most efficient of the latter class.

It was Dr. O'Brien, then operating below Petersburg, who caught the telegraphic cipher of the rebels and by tapping their wires caught many messages which were of material assistance to General Grant in the closing movements of the war. It was he also who in like manner caught the movements of Jeff Davis and his cabinet in their efforts to escape, and put General Wilson on his track, resulting in his final capture. Mr. Richard O'Brien, the doctor's older brother, for many years superintendent of the Western Union Telegraph lines in this end of the State, was at that time Government Superintendent of Telegraphs, in charge of all its telegraphic operations in Virginia and North Carolina. He could tell many a hair-raising experience. He related to me the following incident, which occurred during Grant's operations around Petersburg, to illustrate the enterprise of the enemy in trying to get our telegrams, and the necessity of sending all messages in cipher. They never succeeded in translating the Union cipher. But one day an operator at Washington, either too lazy or too careless to put his message in cipher, telegraphed to the chief commissary at a place below City Point that fifteen hundred head of beef cattle would be landed at that point on a certain day. The message was caught by the rebels. The beef cattle were landed on time, but in the meantime Wade Hampton had swept in with a division of rebel cavalry and was waiting to receive the cattle. With them were captured a handsome lot of rations and a number of prisoners, including all of Mr. O'Brien's telegraph operators at that post. Mr. O'Brien said he cared a good deal more about the loss of his operators than he did for the loss of the cattle and rations, for it was very hard to get competent operators at that time. There was at least one vacancy at Washington following this incident.

Still another arm of the service was the pontoniers, whose duty it was to bridge non-fordable rivers. They were armed and drilled as infantry, but only for their own protection. Their specialty was laying and removing pontoon bridges. A pontoon train consisted of forty to fifty wagons, each carrying pontoon boats, with plank and stringers for flooring and oars and anchors for placing. In laying a bridge these boats were anchored side by side across the stream, stringers made fast across them, and plank then placed on the stringers. Every piece was securely keyed into place so that the bridge was wide enough and strong enough for a battery of artillery and a column of infantry to go over at the same time. The rapidity with which they would either lay or take up a bridge was amazing. If undisturbed they would bridge a stream two hundred yards wide in thirty minutes. They bridged the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg under fire on the 12th of December, 1863, in a little over an hour, losing heavily in the act.

Having now given some account of the organization of this great human fighting machine, it will be proper to show how it was handled. For this purpose there were four staff departments, namely, the adjutant-general's, the quartermaster-general's, the commissary-general's, and the ordnance departments. The first named was the mouth-piece of the army. All orders were issued by and through that officer. It was the book-keeper of the army. Each subdivision of the army had its adjutant-general down to the office of adjutant in the regiment, who was charged with issuing all orders, and with attending to their execution. He was secretary, so to speak, of the commanding officer, and his chief executive officer as well. Extraordinary executive talent and tireless energy were required in these positions. The adjutant must be able at all times to inform his chief of the condition of every detail of the command whether an army corps or regiment, exactly how many men were fit for duty, how many sick or disabled, and just where they all are. In fact, he must be a walking encyclopædia of the whole command; added to this he was usually chief of staff, and must be in the saddle superintending every movement of the troops. Always first on duty, his work was never finished.

Two of the best adjutants-general the world has produced literally wore themselves out in the service—Seth Williams and John B. Rawlins. The first named was McClellan's adjutant-general, the latter was Grant's. McClellan is credited with having organized the grand old Army of the Potomac, the main fighting force by which the rebellion was finally crushed. This was doubtless true, he being its first commanding officer. But the executive ability by which that magnificent machine was perfected was largely the work of Seth Williams, a very quiet, modest man, but a master of the minutest details of every department and an indefatigable worker. It was said his chief could wake him in the middle of the night and get from his memory a correct answer as to the number of men fit for duty in any one of the hundreds of regiments in the army, and just where it was, and what duty it was doing. When one remembers that this knowledge was acquired only by a daily perusal of the consolidated reports of the various regiments, brigades, divisions, and corps of the army, and that he could have found time for one reading only, it will be seen how marvellous his memory was.

Rawlins was said to possess much the same quality. It may truthfully be said that the Army of the Potomac was organized and began its remarkable career in the life blood of Seth Williams, and it completed its work in a blaze of glory, in the life blood of John B. Rawlins. Seth Williams died in the service. Rawlins came home with the victorious army only to die. A beautiful bronze equestrian statue was erected at Washington under the influence of his beloved chief, Grant, to commemorate the services of Rawlins. So far as I know, Seth Williams shares the fate of most of his humbler comrades—an unmarked grave.

I have said all orders were sent out through the adjutant-general's office. This, of course, applies to all regular routine work only, for during the movements of troops on campaigns and in battle orders had in the nature of the case to be delivered verbally. For this purpose each general had a number of aides-de-camp. In sending such orders, the utmost courtesy was always observed. The formula was usually thus, "General Kimball presents his compliments to Colonel Oakford and directs that he move his regiment to such and such a point." To which Colonel Oakford responds returning his compliments to General Kimball and says "his order directing so and so has been received and shall be immediately obeyed."

The quartermaster's department was charged with all matters connected with transportation; with the supplying of clothing, canvas, and equipage of all sorts. Both the commissary and the ordnance departments were dependent upon the quartermaster for the transportation of their respective stores. The wagon trains required by the Army of the Potomac for all this service were prodigious. They were made up of four and six mule teams with heavy "prairie schooners" or canvas-covered wagons. I have seen two thousand of them halted for the night in a single park, and such trains on the march six to ten miles long were not unusual. It will readily be seen that to have them within easy reach, and prevent their falling into the hands of an alert enemy, was a tremendous problem in all movements of the army.

The army mule has been much caricatured, satirized, and abused, but the soldier had no more faithful or indispensable servant than this same patient, plodding, hard-pulling, long-eared fellow of the roomy voice and nimble heels. The "boys" told a story which may illustrate the mule's education. A "tenderfoot" driver had gotten his team stalled in a mud hole, and by no amount of persuasion could he get them to budge an inch. Helpers at the wheels and new hands on the lines were all to no purpose. A typical army bummer had been eying the scene with contemptuous silence. Finally he cut loose:

"Say! You 'uns dunno the mule language. Ye dunno the dilec. Let a perfesser in there."

He was promptly given the job. He doffed cap and blouse, marched up to those mules as if he weighed a ton and commanded the army. Clearing away the crowd, he seized the leader's line, and distending his lungs, he shot out in a voice that could have been heard a mile a series of whoops, oaths, adjectives, and billingsgate that would have silenced the proverbial London fish vender. The mules recognized the "dilec" at once, pricked up their ears and took the load out in a jiffy.

"Ye see, gents, them ar mules is used to workin' with a perfesser."

The commissary department supplied the rations, and the ordnance department the arms and ammunition, etc. Still another branch of the service was the provost-marshal's department. This was the police force of the army. It had the care and custody of all prisoners, whether those arrested for crime, or prisoners of war—those captured from the enemy. In the case of prisoners sentenced to death by court-martial, the provost guard were their executioners.