COMPANY H
"In strange eyes
Have made me not a stranger; to the mind
Which is itself, no changes bring surprise;
Nor is it hard to make, nor hard to find
A country with--ay, or without mankind."--BYRON.
In the afternoon of the day in which occurred the conversation recounted above, I was advised by the doctor to take a short walk.
From a hill just in rear of the hospital tents I could see northward and toward the east long lines of earthworks with tents and cannon, and rows of stacked muskets and all the appliances of war. The sight was new and strange. I had never before seen at one time more than a battalion of soldiers; now here was an army into which I had been suddenly thrust as a part of it, without experience of any sort and without knowledge of anybody in it except two or three persons whom, three days before, I had never heard of. The worthiness of the cause for which this great army had been created to fight, was not entirely clear to me; it is true that I appreciated the fact that in former days, before my misfortune had deprived me of data upon which to reason, I had decided my duty as to that cause; yet it now appealed to me so little, that I was conscious of struggling to rise above indifference. I reproached myself for lack of patriotism. I had read the morning's Dispatch and had been shocked at the relation of some harrowing details of pillage and barbarity on the part of the Yankees; yet I felt nothing of individual anger against the wretches when I condemned such conduct, and my judgment told me that my passionless indignation ought to be hot. But this peculiarity seemed so unimportant in comparison with the greater one which marked me, that it gave me no concern.
In an open space near by, many soldiers were drilling. The drum and the fife could be heard in all directions. Wagons were coming and going. A line of unarmed men, a thousand, I guessed, marched by, going somewhere. They had no uniform; I supposed they were recruits. A group of mounted men attracted me; I had little doubt that here was some general with his staff. Flags were everywhere--red flags, with diagonal crosses marked by stars.
A man came toward me. His clothing was somewhat like my own. I started to go away, but he spoke up, "Hold on, my friend!"
He was of low stature,--a thick-set man, brown bearded.
When he was nearer, he asked, "Do you know where Gregg's brigade is?"
"No; I do not," said I; "but you can find out down there at the hospital tents, I suppose."
"I was told that the brigade is on the line somewhere about here," said he.
"I will go with you to the tent," said I.
"I belong to the First," he said, "I've been absent for some days on duty, and am just getting back to my company. Who is in charge of the hospital?"
"Dr. Frost," said I.
"Oh, Frank?" said he; "I'll call on him, then. He was our orderly-sergeant."
By this speech I knew that he was one of Captain Haskell's men, and I looked at him more closely; he had a very pleasant face. I wanted to ask him about Company H, but feared to say anything, lest he should afterward, when I joined the company, recognize me and be curious. However, I knew that my face, bound up as my head was, would hardly become familiar to him in a short time, and I risked saying that I understood that Dr. Frost had been orderly-sergeant in some company or other.
"Yes; Company H," said he.
"That must be a good company, as it turns out surgeons."
"Yes, and it turns out adjutants and adjutant-generals," said he.
"You like your company?"
"Yes, and I like its captain. I suppose every man likes his own company; I should hate to be in any other. Have you been sick?"
"Yes," said I; "my head received an injury, but I am better now."
"You couldn't be under better care," said he.
When we had reached the tent, Dr. Frost was not to be seen.
"I'll wait and see him," said the man; "he is not far off, I reckon, and I know that the brigade must be close by. What regiment do you belong to?"
The question was torture. What I should have said I do not know; to my intense relief, and before the man had seen my hesitation, he cried, "There he is now," and went up to the doctor; they shook hands. I besought the doctor, with a look, not to betray me; he understood, and nodded.
The man, whom Dr. Frost had called Bellot, asked, "Where is the regiment?"
"Three-quarters of a mile northwest," said the doctor, and Bellot soon went off.
"I'm a little sorry that he saw you," said the doctor; "for you and he are going to be good friends. If he remembers meeting you here to-day, he may be curious when he sees you in Company H; but we'll hope for the best."
"I hope to be very greatly changed in appearance before he sees me again," said I, looking down on my garments, which were very ragged, and seemed to have been soaked in muddy water, and thinking of my strange unshaven face and bandaged head; "I must become indebted to you for something besides your professional skill, Doctor."
"With great pleasure, Jones; you shall have everything you want, if I can get it for you. I've seen Captain Haskell; he says that he will not come again, but he bids you be easy; he will make your first service as light as possible and will ... wait! I wonder if you have forgotten your drill!"
"I know nothing about military drill," I said, "and never did know anything about it."
"You will be convinced, shortly, that you did," said he; "you may have lost it mentally, but your muscles haven't forgotten. In three days under old John Wilson, I'll bet you are ready for every manoeuvre. Just get you started on 'Load in nine times load,' and you'll do eight of 'em without reflection."
"If I do, I shall be willing to confess to anything," said I.
"Here, now; stand there--so! Now--Right--FACE!"
I did not budge, but stood stiff.
"When I say 'Right--Face,' you do so," said he.
"Right--FACE!"
I imitated the surgeon.
"FRONT!--that's right--Left--FACE! That's good--FRONT!--all right; now again--Right--FACE!--FRONT!--Left--FACE!--FRONT!--About--put your right heel so--FACE! Ah! you've lost that; well, never mind; it will all come back. I tell you what, I've drilled old Company H many a day."
I really began to believe that Surgeon Frost had an affection for me, though, of course, his affection was based on a sense of proprietorship acquired through discovery, so to speak.
After supper he said: "You are strong enough to go with me to Company H. W'ell drive over in an ambulance."
From points on the road we saw long lines of camp-fires. On the crest of a hill, the doctor pointed to the east, where the clouds were aglow with light. "McClellan's army," said he.
"Whose army?" I asked.
"McClellan's; the Yankee army under McClellan."
"Oh, yes! I read the name in the paper to-day," said I.
"He has a hundred and fifty thousand men," said he.
"And their camp-fires make all that light?"
"Yes--and I suppose ours look that way to them."
Captain Haskell's company was without shelter, except such, as the men had improvised, as the doctor said; here and there could be seen a blanket or piece of canvas stretched on a pole, and, underneath, a bed of straw large enough for a man. Brush arbours abounded. The Captain himself had no tent; we found him sitting with his back to a tree near which was his little fly stretched over his sleeping-place. Several officers were around him. He shook the doctor's hand, but said nothing to me. The officers left us.
"I have brought Jones over, Captain," said the surgeon, "that you may tell him personally of your good intentions in regard to his first service with you. He wishes to be enrolled."
"If Private Jones--" began the Captain.
"My name is Berwick--Jones Berwick," I said.
"There's another strange notion," said the doctor; "you've got the cart before the horse."
"No, Doctor," I insisted earnestly; "my name is Jones Berwick."
"We have it 'B. Jones,'" said the doctor; "and I am certain it is written that way in your diary. If you are Private Berwick instead of Private Jones, no wonder that nobody claims you."
"I know that my surname is Berwick, but I know nothing of Private Berwick," said I.
"Well," said Captain Haskell, "if you have got your name reversed, that is a small matter which will straighten itself out when you recover your memory. What I was going to say is, that you may be received into my company as a recruit, as it were, but to be returned to your original company whenever we learn what company that is. We will continue, through brigade headquarters, to try to find out what regiment you are from--and under both of your names. While you are with me I shall cheerfully do for you all that I can to favour your condition. You will be expected, however, to do a man's full duty; I can stand no shirking."
The Captain's tone was far different from that he had used toward me in the tent; his voice was stern and his manner frigid.
"We will take the best care of you that we can," he continued, "and will keep to ourselves the peculiar circumstances of your case; for I can well understand, although you have said nothing about it, sir, that you do not wish confidences."
His tone and manner were again those of our first interview.
"Captain," I said, "I know nothing of military life."
"So we take you as a new man," said he, adopting anew his official voice, "and we shall not expect more of you than of an ordinary recruit; we shall teach you. If you enroll with me, I shall at once make a requisition for your arms and accoutrements, your knapsack, uniform, and everything else necessary for you. You may remain in the hospital until your equipment is ready for you. Report to me day after to-morrow at noon, and I will receive you into my company. Now, Frank, excuse me; it is time for prayers."
The men gathered around us. Captain Haskell held a prayer-book in his hand. A most distinguished-looking officer, whose name the doctor told me was Lieutenant Barnwell, stood near with a torch. Some of the men heard the prayer kneeling; others stood with bowed heads.
The Captain began to read:--
"O God, from whom all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works do proceed, give unto Thy servants that peace which the world cannot give; that our hearts may be set to do Thy commandments, and also that by Thee, we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, may pass our time in rest and quietness, through the merits of Jesus Christ our Saviour.
"O Lord, our heavenly Father, by whose almighty power we have been preserved this day; by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night, for the love of Thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ.
"O Lord, our heavenly father, the high and mighty Ruler of the Universe, who dost from Thy throne behold all the dwellers upon earth, most heartily we beseech Thee with Thy favour to behold and bless Thy servant the President of the Confederate States, and all others in authority; and so replenish them with the grace of Thy Holy Spirit that they may always incline to Thy will, and walk in Thy way. Endue them plenteously with heavenly gifts, grant them in health, and prosperity long to live; and finally, after this life, to attain everlasting joy and felicity, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
"O God, the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech Thee for all sorts and conditions of men; that Thou wouldst be pleased to make Thy ways known unto them, Thy saving health to all nations. More especially we pray for Thy holy church universal, that it may be so guided and governed by Thy good Spirit, that all who profess and call themselves Christians may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. Finally, we commend to Thy fatherly goodness all who are in any ways afflicted or distressed in mind, body, or estate, that it may please Thee to comfort and relieve them, according to their several necessities, giving them patience under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions. And this we beg for Christ's sake. Amen."
While this impressive scene had lasted I stood in the darkness outside of the group of men, fearing to be closely observed.
Here was a man whom one could surely trust; he was strong and he was good. I began to feel glad that I was to be under him instead of another. I was lucky. But for Dr. Frost and Captain Haskell, I should be without a friend in the world. Another surgeon might have sent me to the general hospital, whence I should have been remanded to duty; and failing to know my regiment, I should have been apprehended as a deserter. At the best, even if other people had recognized the nature of my trouble, I should have been subjected then and always to the vulgar curiosity which I so greatly dreaded. Here in Company H nobody would know me except as an ordinary recruit.
The men of Company H scattered. I walked up to the Captain and said, "Captain Haskell, I shall be proud to serve under you."
"Jones," said he, "we will not conclude this matter until Dr. Frost sends you to me. It is possible that you will find your own company at any day, or you may decide to serve elsewhere, even if you do not find it. You are not under my orders until you come to me."
As we were returning to the hospital, the doctor asked me seriously, "You insist that your name is Jones Berwick?"
"Yes, Doctor; my surname is Berwick, and my first name is Jones. How did you get my name reversed?"
"On the diary taken from your pocket your name is written 'B. Jones,'" he said.
"Will you let me see the diary?"
"I will give it to you as soon as we get to our camp. I ought to have done so before."
The diary that the doctor gave me--I have it yet--is a small blank book for the pocket, with date headings for the year 1862. Only a very few dates in this book are filled with writing. On the fly-leaf is "B. Jones," and nothing more, the leaf below the name having been all torn away. The writing begins on May 23d, and ends with May 27th. The writing has been done with a pencil. I copy below all that the book contains:--
"FRIDAY, May 23, 1862.
"Arrived after furlough. Drilled A.M. and P.M. Weather clear."
"SATURDAY, May 24, 1862.
"On camp guard. Letters from home. Showers. Marched at night."
"SUNDAY, May 25, 1862.
"Marched all day. Bivouacked in woods at night."
"MONDAY, May 26, 1862.
"Marched but a few miles. Weather bad. Day very hot. Heavy rain at night."
"TUESDAY, May 27, 1862.
"Rain. Heard a battle ahead. Marched past Branch's brigade, that had been fighting."
Each page in the book is divided into three sections.
After reading and rereading the writing again and again, I said to the surgeon, "Doctor, I find it almost impossible to believe that I ever wrote this. It looks like my writing, but I am certain that I could not have written B. Jones as my name."
The Doctor smiled and handed me a pencil. "Now," said he, "take this paper and write at my dictation."
He then read slowly the note under May 27th: "Rain. Heard a battle ahead. Marched past Branch's brigade, that had been fighting."
"Now let us compare them," said he.
The handwriting in the book was similar to that on the paper.
"Well," said Dr. Frost, "do you still think your name is Jones Berwick?"
"I know it," I said; "that is one of the things that I do know."
"And if your handwriting had not resembled that of the book, what would you have said?"
"That the book was never mine, of course."
"Yet that would have been no proof at all," said the doctor. "Many cases have been known of patients whose handwriting had changed completely. The truth is, that I did not expect to see you write as you did just now."
"My name is Jones Berwick," was my reply.
"Strange!" said he; "I would bet a golden guinea that your name is Berwick Jones. Some people cannot remember their names at all--any part of their names. Others see blue for red. Others do this and do that; there seems to be no limit to the vagaries of the mind. I'd rather risk that signature which you made before you were hurt."
"My name is Jones Berwick, Doctor. This signature cannot be trusted. It is full of suspicion. Don't you see that all the lower part of the leaf has been torn off? What was it torn off for? Why, of course, to destroy the name of the regiment to which the owner belonged! B. Jones is common enough; Jones Berwick is not so common. I found it, or else it got into my pocket by mistake. No wonder that a man named Jones is not called for."
"But, Jones, how can you account for the writing, which is identical? Even if we say that the signature is wrong, still we cannot account for the rest unless you wrote it. It is very romantic, and all that, to say that somebody imitated your handwriting in the body of the book, but it is very far-fetched. Find some other theory."
"But see how few dates are filled!" I exclaimed.
"Yet the writing itself accounts for that. On May twenty-third you began. You tell us that you had just returned from home, where you had been on furlough. You left your former diary, if you had kept one, at home. You end on May twenty-seventh, just a few days ago."
"My name is Jones Berwick," I said.
"By the by, let me see that book a moment."
I handed it to him.
"No; no imprint, or else it has been torn out," he said; "I wanted to see who printed it."
"What would that have shown?"
"Well, I expected to find that it was printed in Richmond, or perhaps Charleston; it would have proved nothing, however."
"My name is Jones Berwick, Doctor."
"Well, so be it! We must please the children. I shall make inquiries for the regiment and company from which Jones Berwick is missing. Now do you go to bed and go to sleep."
The next morning I borrowed the doctor's shaving appliances.
The last feeble vestige of doubt now vanished forever. The face I saw in the glass was not my face. It was the face of a man at least ten years older. Needless to describe it, if I could.
After I had completed the labour,--a perilous and painful duty,--I made a different appearance, and felt better, not only on account of the physical change, but also, I suppose, because my mind was now settled upon myself as a volunteer soldier.
Dr. Frost had told me that the two Bellots were coming to see me; Captain Haskell had asked them to make the acquaintance of a man who would probably join their company. I begged the doctor to give them no hint of the truth. He replied that it would be difficult to keep them in the dark, for they wouldn't see why a man, already wearing uniform, should offer himself as a member of Company H.
"I think we'd better take them into our conspiracy," said he.
To this I made strong objection. I would take no such risk, "If I had any money," I said, "I should certainly buy other clothing."
"Well, does the wind sit there?" said he; "you have money; lots of it."
"Where?"
"There was money in your pocket when you were brought to me; besides, the government gives a bounty of fifty dollars to every volunteer. Your bounty will purchase clothing, if you are determined to squander your estate. Captain Haskell would be able to secure you what you want; your bounty is good for it."
"But I have no right to the bounty," said I.
"Fact!" said he; "you see how I fell into the trap? I was thinking, for the moment, from your standpoint, and you turned the tables on me. Yes; you have already received the bounty; maybe you haven't yet spent it, though. I'll look up the contents of your pockets; I hope nothing's been lost."
He rummaged in a chest and brought out a knife and a pencil, as well as a leather purse, which proved to contain thirty dollars in Confederate notes, a ten-dollar note of the bank of Hamburg, South Carolina, and more than four dollars in silver.
"I did not know you were so rich," said Dr. Frost; "now what do you want to do with all that?"
"I want a suit of old clothes," I said.
"Why old?"
"Because I shall soon be compelled to throw it away."
"Not at all," said he; "you can pack it up and leave it; if we march, it will be taken care of. Get some cheap, cool, summer stuff; I know what to do. How you held on to that silver so long is a mystery."
The doctor wrote a note to somebody in Richmond, and before the Bellots came in the late afternoon I was prepared for them. The elder Bellot had already seen me, but in my civilian's garb he did not seem to recognize me. The younger Bellot was a handsome man, fully six feet, with a slight stoop; I never saw more kindly eyes or a better face; he, too, wore a full beard. His name was Louis, yet his brother called him Joe. I took a liking to both Dave and Joe.
The talk was almost entirely about the war. I learned that the regiment was the first ever formed in the South. It had been a State regiment before the Confederate States had existed--that is to say, it had been organized by South Carolina alone, before any other State had seceded; it had seen service on the islands near Charleston.
A great deal of the talk was worse than Greek to me. Dave Bellot, especially, gave me credit for knowing a thousand things of which I was utterly ignorant, and I was on thorns all the time.
"Yes," says he; "you know all about Charleston, I reckon."
"No," I said; "I know very little about it. I've been there, but I am not familiar with the city."
"Well, you know Sullivan's Island and Fort Moultrie."
Now, by some odd chance, I did remember the name of Moultrie, and I nodded assent.
"Well," said he, "the First, or part of it, went under the guns of Sumter on the morning of January ninth, just an hour after the Cadets had fired on the Star of the West; we thought Sumter would sink us, but she didn't say a word."
I was silent, through fear of self-betrayal. Why it was that these men had not asked me about my home, was puzzling me. Momentarily I expected either of them to blurt out, "Where are you from?" and I had no answer ready. Afterward I learned that I was already known as an Aiken man, in default of better,--the doctor having considerately relieved me from anticipated danger.
"After the bombardment, the First was transferred to the Confederate service. It had enlisted for six months, and its time expired in June. It was in Virginia then. It was paid up and discharged, and at once reorganized under the same field-officers."
I did not very well know what a field-officer is.
"Who is the colonel?" I asked.
"Colonel Hamilton," said he; "or Old Headquarters, as I called him once in his own hearing. We were at Suffolk in winter quarters, and it was the day for general inspection of the camp. We had scoured our tin plates and had made up our bunks and washed up generally, and every man was ready; but we got tired of waiting. I had my back to the door, and I said to Josey, 'Sergeant, I wonder when Old Headquarters will be here.' You never were so scared in your life as I was when I heard a loud voice at the door say, 'Headquarters are here now, sir!' and the colonel walked in."
I attempted appropriate laughter, and asked, "Where is Suffolk?"
"Down near Norfolk. General Gregg was our first colonel. He was in the Mexican war, and is a fine officer; deaf as a door-post, though. He commands our brigade now."
"Where did you go from Suffolk?"
"To Goldsborough."
"Where is that?" I asked.
"North Carolina. You remember, when Burnside took Roanoke Island it was thought that he would advance to take the Weldon and Wilmington railroad; we were sent to Goldsborough, and were brigaded with some tar-heel regiments under Anderson. Then Anderson and the lot of us were sent to Fredericksburg. We were not put under Gregg again until we reached Richmond."
"How many regiments are in the brigade?"
"Five,--the First, Twelfth, Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Orr's Rifles."
"All from South Carolina?"
"Yes."
"From Fredericksburg we marched down here," observed Joe.
"Yes," said Dave; "and not more than a week ago. We came very near getting into it at Hanover, where Branch got torn up so."
"Where is Hanover?" I asked.
"About twenty miles north," he replied, "I thought we were sure to get into that fight, but we were too late for it."
The Bellots were very willing to give me all information. They especially sounded the praises of their young Captain, and declared that I was fortunate in joining their company instead of some others which they could name.
Not a word was spoken concerning my prior experience. I flattered myself with the belief that they thought me a raw recruit influenced by some acquaintanceship with Dr. Frost.
Before they left, Joe Bellot said a word privately to his brother, and then turned to me. "By the way," said he, "do you know anybody in the company?"
"Not a soul except Captain Haskell," I replied. "I am simply relying on Dr. Frost; I am going to join some company, and I rely on his judgment more than on my own."
"Well, we'll see you through," said he. "Join our mess until you can do better."
I replied, with true thankfulness, that I should be glad to accept his offer.
"Did you see the morning papers?" asked the elder Bellot. I was walking a short way with the brothers as they returned to their camp. "No," said I.
"It contains a terrible account of the Yankees' method of warfare."
"What are they doing?" I asked.
"Inciting the slaves to insurrection and organizing them into regiments of Federal soldiers. Butler, in command at New Orleans, has several regiments of negroes; and Colonel Adams, in command of one of our brigades in Tennessee, has reported that the Yankees in that State are enticing the negroes away from their owners and putting arms into their hands."
"That is very barbarous," said I. My ignorance kept me from saying more. The language he had used puzzled me; I did not know at the time that New Orleans was in the hands of the Federals, and his saying that Butler had regiments of negroes seemed queer.
"The people who sold us their slaves helped John Brown's insurrection," said Bellot.
A sudden recollection came, and I was about to speak, but Bellot continued. The last thing I could remember clearly was the reading of Brown's deeds at Harper's Ferry!
"They claim that they are fighting against the principle of secession, and they have split Virginia into two States. In my opinion, they are fighting for pure selfishness--or, rather, impure selfishness: they know that they live on the trade of the South, and that they cannot make as much money if they let us go to ourselves."
"Yes," said Louis; "the war is all in the interest of trade. Of course there are a few men in the North, whose motives may be good mistakenly, but the mass of the people are blindly following the counsels of those who counsel for self-interest. If the moneyed men, the manufacturers, and the great merchants of the North thought for one moment that they would lose some of their dollars by the war, the war would end. What care they for us? They care only for themselves. They plunge the whole country into mourning simply in order to keep control of the trade of the South."
Up to this time I had known nothing of the creation of West Virginia by the enemy, and I thought it discreet to be silent, mentally vowing that I should at once read the history of events since 1859. So I sought Dr. Frost, and begged him to help me get books or papers which would give me the information I needed; for otherwise, I told him, I should be unable to talk with any consistency or method.
"Let me see," he said; "there is, of course, no one book in print that would give you just what you want. We might get files of newspapers--but that would be too voluminous reading and too redundant. You ought to have something concise--some outline; and where to get it I can't tell you." Then, as the thought struck him, he cried, "I'll tell you; we'll make it! You write while I dictate."