Читать книгу Recollections with the Third Iowa Regiment - Seymour D. Thompson - Страница 7

Table of Contents

We prepare to march from Monroe—Arrival of Governor Wood with cavalry and artillery; and of the Fourteenth Illinois—How Mr. Dugan speaks of this in his book—A change of councils—The Third Iowa moves west on a train—Circumstances of the ride—Failure of an attempt to burn the Chariton River bridge—A few details—How young soldiers sometimes originate false alarms—Our camp at Chillicothe—General Hurlbut assumes command of the troops on the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad—We draw our accoutrements at last—We leave Chillicothe and go into camp at Brookfield.

The morning after the affair at Monroe, our regiment prepared to march. But the arrival of additional reinforcements changed the complexion of affairs. We were reinforced by a squadron of cavalry and a section of light artillery under Ex-Governor Wood, of Illinois, and by the Fourteenth Illinois Infantry, which came by rail. The Governor had come through from Quincy with a rush, burning the houses and confiscating the animals of guerrilla leaders, besides making prisoners of thirty or forty noted secessionists.

An account of the arrival of these reinforcements is given by Mr. Dugan in his book entitled "History of the Fighting Fourth Division." After detailing the circumstances of the journey of the Fourteenth from Monticello to Monroe, the grave "historian" goes on to say:

"When about two miles of town we left the cars and formed a line of battle, and supported Gov. Wood (who had accompanied us with five companies of independent cavalry from Quincy, Ill.), in a most brilliant charge upon the rebel columns, which resulted in their complete discomfiture. When the enemy's lines were broken by the impetuous charge of the Governor and his compatriots, and as they were flying in the wildest disorder, the Sixteenth sallied forth from their hastily constructed entrenchments, and poured a most destructive volley into the enemy's ranks, which emptied many a saddle, and sent not a few traitors to their final account."

My comrades, who were present on this occasion, will at once remark with what scrupulousness our author has detailed this occurrence. The Governor's "brilliant" and "impetuous" "charge" upon the "rebel columns," which had fled twenty hours before, reminds us strongly of Don Quixote's charge upon the army of Alifanfaron. The first intimation we had of the coming of the Fourteenth, was, when seeing them march up, stack arms in column, and cook their dinners as quietly as Sancho Panza at the saddlebags.

The old Governor seemed well pleased with the situation, and withal very affable to the boys. When we complained of having suffered on account of rations, he told us, with a shrewd wink, that it was good enough for us; we had no business to take prisoners with whom to divide our rations. Judging from his retinue of butternuts, his preaching did not at all harmonize with his practice.

The councils were now changed—why, we did not know. Our regiment went aboard a train of cars, and about two o'clock in the afternoon moved westward toward our former camp at Utica. About four o'clock, we reached Salt River Bridge, which the rebels had burned. Here we left this train, and with much trouble and fatigue got our baggage across the bridge and on board another train which was waiting to receive us.

On this train we were crammed so closely together that it was impossible to lie down. Jolted and jammed by the motion of the cars, we passed the night somehow, and most of us got some sleep. Annoyed by these inconveniences, we little thought of the dangers of this nocturnal ride. The removal of a single rail by a mischievous citizen would have precipitated many of us into eternity.

Daylight found us at Macon city, where the train had halted for some reason to pass the latter part of the night. We were exceedingly hungry, having eaten nothing since yesterday's breakfast. Colonel Williams, knowing the difficulties of restraining men, and especially hungry men, in a town, posted guards and would allow no one to leave the train. He, however, took some of the officers with him and breakfasted at a hotel—an act which created, and justly, great indignation. An officer that will not share with brave men their hardships, as they share with him the perils from which he reaps glory, deserves universal execration.

About ten o'clock we reached Chariton Bridge, and Company F was detached to guard it. An incident had occurred here, a couple of hours previous to our arrival, not a little exciting. A party of a dozen men of the Second Iowa had come from the west to guard this bridge. Arriving early in the morning, they had gone into a log house close by to get breakfast, when a party of rebels suddenly appeared and began preparations to set the bridge on fire. The Iowa boys sprung to their guns and rushed upon them. The rebels fled in confusion; but Lieutenant McKinney, the commander of the guard, attacked their leader, a young school teacher and law student, by the name of Marmaduke. He fell upon his knees and begged for mercy. But the lieutenant told him a bridge burner had no claims to mercy, and shot him through the head with his revolver. His dead body lay upon the railroad embankment near where Company F encamped. We buried him decently, giving him a soldier's grave. Subsequently some Union people of Callao came in behalf of his friends and disinterred the body and took it away.

The situation of Company F was not at all enviable. As soon as we had got off the train with our few effects it moved on. Since the previous morning, we had had nothing to eat, and for several days our rations had been scant. Our hunger was intense, a few rations of flour and bacon had been left for us; but we had no cooking utensils except a few mess pans which we had procured, no one knew how. We kindled a fire, kneaded some dough in these mess pans, wrapped it around sticks, and baked it in the blaze. We had scarcely had time to commence cooking dinner in this way, when half the company were ordered on picket. This, we thought, was seeing service. During the eight days we were here we were on guard half the time and suffered all these inconveniences. Contrary to the endeavors of our officers, none of our camp equipage was sent to us—another circumstance which tended to increase our affection for Colonel Williams.

Having left Company F at Chariton Bridge, the train proceeded five miles further to Brush Creek Bridge, which the rebels had burned. Here the regiment halted till the following night, when having repaired the bridge, Colonel Williams left Company C to guard it, and sent Company E back to Chariton Bridge to reinforce Company F. He then proceeded with the remainder of the regiment to Chillicothe, where he arrived the following forenoon. A detail was immediately made to go to Utica to bring hither our tents, baggage, and camp equipage. The whole mass was thrown together without respect of companies, and brought to Chillicothe. A regimental camp was established, which the officers united in naming Camp Williams.

The regiment was now disposed as follows: In the regimental camp at Chillicothe, Companies A, B, H, I and K; at Grand River Bridge, four miles west of Chillicothe, Companies D and G; at Brush Creek Bridge, forty miles east of Chillicothe, Company C; at Chariton Bridge, forty-five miles east of Chillicothe, Companies E and F.

These detached companies were continually threatened more or less seriously by the enemy. They were expected to protect the bridges and the railroad track in their vicinity. Reports frequently came in to them from the surrounding country, that the rebels were organizing to attack them. But their instructions did not allow them to send out scouting parties to ascertain the truth of these reports. Indeed, the military knowledge we had expected on the part of our Colonel, he had as yet failed to exhibit. He did not even recommend these detached companies to construct stockades, nor were they provided with tools to do so, should it become necessary. None of these companies constructed works except Company F. We built of logs and sawdust a small square work around an old steam saw-mill, and named it Fort Brown after its projector, Lieut. Brown. Company A, which was subsequently detailed to guard Medicine Creek Bridge, built a small work near it of earth and logs.

On the evening of July 20th, Companies E and F, after having passed a week of almost constant fasting and watching, sleeping what little they were allowed to sleep in the open air, harassed by day by continual reports of the enemy approaching in force, and by night by clouds of famished mosquitoes, were, to their great joy taken aboard a train of cars, and expected to be conveyed immediately to Chillicothe. Imagine, then, the surprise and rage of Company F, at being awakened about midnight and ordered to get off at another railroad bridge in a timbered swamp. Company C was served in the same way. Company F relieved them at Locust Creek; but instead of being taken through to Chillicothe, they were left at Medicine Creek. The following day, however, these companies were relieved, the former by Company H, and the latter by Company A, and joined the regiment at Chillicothe. Subsequently Company D was recalled from Grand River Bridge; but no companies were relieved after this, till the regiment changed camp to Brookfield.

The time spent in guarding these bridges was a period of constant, and sometimes harassing watchfulness. We were constantly on the lookout for the enemy. We had an unusual number of reports of enormous forces advancing against us, and night was prolific of false alarms. For in those days when the enemy were "bushwhackers," and videttes did not go to sleep on post, it was not hard for one of them, straining his eyes in the darkness, to convert an approaching horse or cow into a man; and, as dumb beasts do not understand the meaning of the word halt, it is readily converted into an enemy. It was easy for him to hear "the tramp of armed feet" in the rustle of the wind among the leaves or in the walking of a few swine. And in the "wee sma' hours," when the mind in spite of all its efforts to keep awake, is in a half-waking, half-sleeping state; when imagination plays such tricks with reason as to weave a thousand airy images, and make us think they are real, it would require no great effort amid these noises, for the sentinel to see in the darkness forms of assassins moving from tree to tree, or lines of skirmishers approaching through the gloom. And, seeing this, of course he must fire, and the report of his piece would alarm the neighboring sentinels, and they, too, would see images and fire. Thus the camp would be alarmed, and the men would be compelled to stand in ranks until the matter could be thoroughly investigated.

Our regimental camp at Chillicothe was situated on the north side of the railroad, and within the limits of the town. The ground was an excellent greensward, and the camp was systematically laid out. Our duty was camp guard, picket guard and drill. The camp guard generally required the heaviest detail. A strong line of sentinels extended around the camp, and no persons could pass them except in squads under a non-commissioned officer for water, without a written pass from the regimental commander. And, under Colonel Williams, it was a serious thing to disobey orders; and breaking guard was a risk which very few were willing to run. Whatever may be said against the Colonel, the discipline we attained under him while at Chillicothe, was highly creditable to him. It was in consequence of this discipline that our regiment had a good name among the citizens of Missouri, such as volunteer troops seldom gain among strangers or enemies. Their streets were not trodden by drunken soldiers; their property was safe; they no longer looked upon us as outlaws and monsters. They began to have confidence in us, and to take a more unprejudiced view of our cause. And who knows that our conduct did not make many friends of enemies? But it was doubtless the confinement to which we were thus subjected in our hot, close tents, that increased our sick lists so greatly. The restraint imposed upon us was excessive and unreasonable.

At Chillicothe our camp guard was managed according to the regulations, and the men learned the duties of the sentinel. But the manner in which our outpost duty was done was horrible. As if to invite a surprise or a raid through our camp, Colonel Williams never had out pickets in the daytime. Nor did he ever send out a scouting party to ascertain the movements which were going on around him. Did he rely on Providence alone, or on accidental reports from citizens? Or did he unbosom his camp to his foes and trust to their magnanimity? In the night—did the Colonel think the enemy so foolish as to attack him in the night in the summer season when there was so much daylight to operate in? Or was he afraid of wolves? In the night before "tattoo," the officer of the day would string around the town a short distance from camp, twenty men, two in a place, without an officer, or even a non-commissioned officer over them. These men were not relieved till morning, when they would come in, according to instructions, of their own accord. If there was any military knowledge displayed in this arrangement, we were never able to see it.

Is it surprising then, that the rebels should have organized a company of cavalry within nine miles of us? Colonel Williams heard of this when it was too late, and sent a detachment of men in the night to look after them. This detachment was provided with ammunition at the rate of ten rounds to seven men, or 1³⁄₇ rounds to the man! But the foolish fellows got wind of our coming and ran off.

In this connection, Colonel Williams' attempt at fortifying deserves mention. He commenced throwing up a small work around the Union Hotel, where he had his headquarters, the flanks of it resting on the railroad, which here runs in a moderate cut. What it was intended for we can guess: to be garrisoned by a small force when we should leave. What it was good for, no one but Colonel Williams could tell. Charley Kostman constructed it; as far as his part was concerned, it was good. It was evidently intended for about a hundred men. Was it intended to resist artillery? Why, then, was the parapet so weak? Was it intended to contain artillery? Why, then, were there no embrasures? Was it intended to protect infantry? The houses of the town on all sides of it could be filled with sharpshooters who would render it untenable. Was it intended for any thing? A party of men could run up the railroad track and get into it easily. It was in all respects a humbug; unless it be that it enabled the Colonel to sleep more soundly than before it was built. And there it doubtless stands to this time—a sublime monument to the genius of him who was chosen colonel of the Third Iowa, because he was a military man.

If Colonel Williams wanted to put up a small work against infantry, why did he not cut timber and make a stockade? If he wanted to make a fort which would resist artillery, why did he not select an eligible spot, and make one which would answer the purpose? No: he had a grander and sublimer object. It was to put the Union Hotel in a state of defense. And for this purpose he kept heavy details working, day after day, digging the baked earth in the hot sun—which was an outrage, and so we regarded it.

In the meantime, Brigadier General Hurlbut arrived at Quincy, Illinois, and assumed command of the forces on the Hannibal and St. Joseph railroad. Of this general we knew nothing, except that we had understood he was without military experience—a circumstance not calculated to give us much confidence in him, especially when we thought of the disasters of Big Bethel and Bull Run. On assuming command, he issued a proclamation to the citizens of Missouri, which was about what they would have expected from a Federal general. He adopted General Pope's plan of making the citizens responsible for damages done the railroad in their vicinity. This was correct; for hitherto citizens had been mainly instrumental in these depredations. He also issued an order announcing the daily routine for the troops. By this order we were compelled to drill in the schools of the soldier, company and battalion—in all, seven hours a day.

Few of my comrades have pleasant recollections of these long drills of Chillicothe. The heat was intense and relaxing, and the health of the regiment extremely bad. At one time, more than half of some of the companies were on the sick list, and few of us were entirely well. And yet the water we obtained from the wells of citizens was excellent, and our camp was a model of order and cleanliness.

On our battalion drills, Colonel Williams generally commanded. He taught us to execute several movements after the manner of Scott, and once or twice confessed that it was hard for him to get used to Hardee. He paid particular attention to instructing the battalion to form lines of battle rapidly and in various ways. As a drill-master he was rigid even to severity. It must be allowed, that it was one of Colonel Williams' first objects of desire to see the regiment well drilled.

It was not till the 4th of August that we drew our accoutrements. Let us look back: up to this time, we had been in an insurrectionary district, filled with irregular forces of the enemy. From Calloway county, which Harris held with two or three thousand men, a two days ride would have brought an enemy to our camp. I can not see any excuse for this criminal carelessness. We ought to have been supplied with accoutrements and ammunition, or kept at home. If Colonel Williams had cartridges, he ought to have issued a supply to his men. If he did not have any, he ought to have seized powder and lead from the citizens, of which they had plenty. Singular good fortune, that we were not all captured! Were the gods propitious, or were our enemies too chivalrous to assail us, defenseless as we were?

Thus, with hard crackers and hard discipline; with constant drills and heavy fatigues; with full guard houses and frequent courts martial; in heat, dust, sickness and discomfort, we passed an irksome month at Chillicothe.

On the 7th of August we packed our baggage, struck tents at the tap of the drum, got aboard a train of cars and proceeded to Brookfield, the midway station between Hannibal and St. Joseph. We passed the first night without anything to eat, which naturally gave us pleasant feelings towards certain officers who looked out for their own comfort by supping at the hotel. The following day we established our regimental camp on a beautiful hill on the prairie, about a half mile east of the town and near the railroad track. We were compelled to dig wells to procure water. Our duties were much the same as at Chillicothe, except that we did no nocturnal picketing, a squadron of the Second Illinois Cavalry, and Colonel Morgan's regiment of Missouri Cavalry, which was organizing at this place, doing this duty in our stead.

The only incident worthy of note during our stay at Brookfield was, that the feeling against Colonel Williams was on one occasion so aggravated by his conduct and that of Surgeon Edwards, that it broke out in an act of open mutiny. It was quieted, however, without any serious consequences. Let us draw the veil of forgetfulness over an occurrence so unfortunate, and, when viewed at a distance by those unacquainted with the circumstances, so discreditable to our regiment.