Читать книгу Roster and Statistical Record of Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers - Maxfield Albert - Страница 3

Thus organized, the Company rendezvoused at Augusta, where, October 19, '61, it was mustered into the service of the United States, as Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers.

The regiment started for Washington, November 13, '61, arriving there on the 16th, and the same day pitched its circular Ellis tents on Meridian Hill, back of Washington, naming its camp "Knox," after the hero of the Revolution that Maine claims as her own.

The only really notable event that took place in the several weeks the regiment occupied Camp Knox, was the Battle of the Sand Pits, by which name the quarrel between the men of the Eleventh and those of a United States Cavalry Regiment camped near Camp Knox, is known to the initiated. Whatever the cause of the quarrel, it culminated in an undisciplined rush to arms and a prompt occupation of the disputed sand pits by the more hot headed of the Eleventh. Fortunately no blood was shed before the officers of the two regiments got their men under control. No reputations were lost in this engagement, and but one was made, that of Private Longley, of D Company, who, with characteristic French-Canadian impetuosity slipped a cartridge into the muzzle of his Belgian rifle, bullet end first, effectually spiking the piece.

The Eleventh was here brigaded with the 104th and 52nd Pennsylvania, the 56th and 100th New York Infantry Regiments, Regan's Seventh New York Battery of three inch ordnance guns attached; Colonel W. W. H. Davis, of the 104th Pennsylvania, in command of the Brigade, by reason of seniority of commission.

Soon after this formation, on New Year's Day, 1862, the brigade went into winter quarters in Carver Barracks, on Meridian Hill. Each regiment was domiciled in a dozen or fourteen one-story wooden houses, shell like structures of from fifty to sixty feet in length, twenty-five or thirty in width, and separated from each other by a street of perhaps twenty-five feet in width. The buildings of each regiment bordered one side of a great esplanade, the garrison flag floating from a tall staff in its center, each building laying a gable end to this square, which was common to all for drill and parade purposes.

Here the Winter was passed in perfecting the drill and discipline of the men, the officers gaining their technical military knowledge, book in hand, while imparting the contents to their stalwart pupils. In this way both officers and men practiced assiduously until they could load and fire in a truly military manner; march with mathematical accuracy and wheel geometrically. They also learned to obey orders without demur or question, under penalty of "Death or some worse punishment," as the men would have it the United States Army Regulations, read to them so frequently, provided for about all the offences in the military decalogue, this being their free rendering of the often closing phrase of a paragraph: – "Death, or such other punishment as the sentence of a court martial may inflict."

So far as recollection serves, the men of D were not given to law breaking. There is a remembrance though of Private Bridges standing on the head of a barrel at the head of the company street, a punishment for some now forgotten offense that did not seem to affect Private Bridges' sense of shame to any appreciable degree, he assuring all anxious inquirers that he was stationed in so commanding a position that he might announce the paymaster's anticipated approach from Washington, that all men of D might have timely warning to be on hand to receive their somewhat overdue dollars.

It was a very dull winter. About all the diversions from drill and parade that I recall are a few days on pass spent in wandering through the Capitol and other Government buildings – through the Smithsonian Institute – in visiting the already crowded hospitals – a marching part in the pompous military funeral given General Lander's body – and a dinner party given by D on Washington's Birthday, at which the field and staff of the regiment, the conspicuous guests, paid for their oyster stew and cider in speeches of impassioned eloquence, prophesying such a speedy downfall of the Wicked Rebellion that some of our men were almost inclined to pack their knapsacks before going to sleep, not to run any risk of missing the eastern train in the morning in case the W.R. should fall to pieces during the night.

This seems to be the place to have it recalled by Lieutenant Budge to the men of D who passed the Winter of 1861-62 in these barracks, that he commanded a detail that winter that, under the direction of the Provost Marshal General of Washington, seized and spilled into the gutters of that city some thirty thousand dollars worth of more or less ardent spirits. It would be interesting to have added to these figures a computation of the number of gallons of such fluids spilled by the men of D during its entire military history, spilled from canteens and other fluid receptacles, especially the number of gallons spilled by the re-enlisted men when on their famous furlough in the Winter of 1864.

Life in Washington passed as briefly indicated until March, when preparations were made for moving "On to Richmond." So eager were the men to make this movement, many of them fancying it would bring about an immediate ending of the war, that they chafed at the unavoidable delay that lack of transport service occasioned; Private Leighton, I believe it was, voicing the opinion of many that the delay was pusillanimous, and patriotically declaring for an immediate taking of Richmond and the hanging of Jeff. Davis, that all the farmers of the army might get home in time to attend to their Spring planting. And when there was one false start, the regiment in line, with baggage packed, and all ready for the word of command, then we were ordered back to quarters, there were curses loud and deep, even had been deacons using language that would have shocked the sisters, till the band jocularly struck up "Wait for the wagon and we'll all take a ride," when good nature was restored, proving that music indeed hath soothing charms.