Читать книгу The "Twenty-Seventh" - Winthrop Dudley Sheldon - Страница 4

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The soldier who is untried in the fearful ordeal of war looks forward with a kind of adventurous excitement to the time when he shall cross swords with the enemy; and especially if his heart is bound up in the cause, and his motives lie deeper than mere love of adventure, he desires to stand at the post of duty, though it be in the deadly charge, and at the cannon’s mouth.

At length the last day of November, a beautiful Sabbath, came, and with it marching orders. All attention was now concentrated upon the movement to take place the next day, at nine o’clock. The cooks were busy preparing rations for the march; the men were arranging their traps in the most portable form, and all looked forward with eager interest to the new scenes before us. At the appointed time, on the following morning, the Twenty-seventh, with the other regiments in the brigade, began the march for Washington, leaving our comparatively commodious A tents standing. Henceforth, shelter-tents, and for much of the time no tents at all, were to be our covering. Our final destination was all a mystery, until, as the days advanced, conjecture was enabled, with some probability, to fix upon Fredericksburg. The march across Chain Bridge, through Georgetown and Washington, and down the Potomac, fifteen miles, consumed the first day, and that night a tired set slept beneath their shelter-tents, nestling in the woods by the road-side.

By eight o’clock, December second, we were again in motion, and before sundown accomplished the appointed distance of twenty miles, through a pleasant country, divided into large and apparently well-cultivated plantations. Sambo’s glittering ivory and staring eyes gleamed from many gateways, greeting us half suspiciously. One young colored boy concluded he had been beaten quite long enough by his master, and not liking the prospect before him if he remained in slavery, thought best to join the column, and march to freedom. In anticipation of some such proceedings on the part of the colored population, the planters of that region patrolled the roads on horseback, watching our ranks as we filed past, to see if some luckless contraband were not harbored therein.

The third day brought us within three miles of Port Tobacco, and without standing on ceremony, we encamped for the night on the grounds of a secessionist planter, and availed ourselves of his abundant store of hay and straw. December fourth, we passed through the town—a very ordinary, shabby-looking place, whose secession population hardly deigned to glance at us, except from behind closed shutters.

Thus far the weather had been delightful, but the fifth day of our march, and the last on the Maryland side of the Potomac, opened rather inauspiciously, and by the time we reached the river bank at Liverpool Point, a cold rain-storm had set in, in which we were obliged to stand a couple of hours awaiting our turn to be ferried across to Acquia Landing. At length the rain changed into driving snow, and when we arrived at the Landing, the surrounding hills were white with the generous deposit. The village at Acquia Creek, after being evacuated sundry times, had risen again from the ashes of several burnings to become the base of supplies for Burnside’s army before Fredericksburg. Busy carpenters were rearing storehouses, eventually to take their turn at conflagration, and the offing was full of vessels of every description, loaded with stores to be transferred by rail to Falmouth.

In the snow we disembarked, and after many delays reached our camping ground, on a hill-side, a mile or more up the railroad. It was now evening, and the prospect seemed anything but encouraging, in view of the fact that the storm continued with even augmented fury. We pitched our shelter-tents and made our beds in the snow, and built fires, under difficulties which can hardly be exaggerated. To add to the discomfort of the case, our supplies were entirely exhausted, and although the wharves and storehouses at the Landing fairly groaned with pork and hard-tack, we could not obtain these articles, owing to inflexible red tape, and in part to the fact that the railroad was monopolized in carrying subsistence for the army at Falmouth. A very limited supply of sawdust ginger-cakes constituted the universal bill of fare until the evening of the next day.

December sixth dawned upon us, cold and frosty, but clear—just such weather as graces the month in the latitude of New-England. The discomforts of the preceding day were soon forgotten in the cheerful sunshine. At this time our worthy chaplain, Rev. J. W. Leek, joined the regiment. Though separated from us in one short week, by reason of an almost fatal wound, yet in that brief period he had gained the hearty respect and esteem of all, and connected his name most honorably with the history of the Twenty-seventh.

After a rest of two days, we bade adieu to Acquia Creek on the morning of December eighth, and resumed our march to Falmouth. Having lost our way, the journey, which properly required but one day, occupied until noon of the next, when we arrived at the headquarters of General D. N. Couch, at that time in command of the Second Army Corps. By him the Twenty-seventh was assigned to the Third Brigade, General S. K. Zook’s, of the First Division, commanded by General W. S. Hancock. At this time the Army of the Potomac was divided into three grand divisions—the right, left, and centre—the first, of which our corps formed a part, under the command of General Edwin V. Sumner.

We were now marched off to our camping ground, a short distance from the Rappahannock river. Henceforth the fortunes of the Twenty-seventh are linked with the Army of the Potomac. The regiment belonged to a corps whose thinned ranks eloquently testified to the hard-fought contests of the Peninsula, where it had borne the brunt, always in the fore-front of battle, and the last to retire when retreat became necessary. The history of the Second proved it to be one of the most reliable corps in the service—always ready for any desperate encounter under its brave and fighting leaders. The famous Irish Brigade formed a part of our division. Such being the character and history of the corps, it was evident that the Twenty-seventh must now make up its mind to the severest of campaign service. Scarcely were our tents up, when the Colonel received orders to have the company cooks prepare four days’ rations, to be ready by the next morning—the inevitable preliminary to more important events.

The forenoon of December tenth was occupied in cleaning our arms and preparing for an inspection, to take place at twelve o’clock, before General Zook and staff. Perhaps at this point it might be well to speak of the weapons the General was called upon to inspect, and which he declared unfit for service. One of his staff, a day or two later, remarked: “Boys, if you can’t discharge them, you can use the bayonet.” That certainly was the most serviceable part of the gun. At the outset, the Twenty-seventh, with the exception of the flank companies, was furnished with Austrian rifles of such an inferior order that no regular inspector would have passed them. Scarcely one of these weapons was without defects in the most essential particulars. These facts are not mentioned to bring discredit upon any of the authorities cognizant of such matters, but simply as a matter of justice to the regiment. Doubtless the best of reasons could have been given to justify the temporary distribution of such arms. Early, however, in the following January, the regiment was supplied with the Whitney rifled musket, a weapon in the highest degree satisfactory to all.