History of the Forty-second regiment infantry, Massachusetts volunteers, 1862, 1863, 1864

by Charles P. Bosson

STATEMENT OF PRIVATE HERSEY.

“The last two days of the year 1863 will long be remembered by those members of our regiment who, with some three hundred other Federal prisoners, were wending their toilsome way over the rough, frozen roads leading from Marshall, Texas, to the Louisiana border, in expectation, when arriving there, of being exchanged or paroled. December 29th a fierce ‘Norther’ set in, which was soon accompanied by a severe storm of rain, hail, snow and sleet. Through this terrible storm we plodded on over a dreary region of woodland and prairie, with the icy hurricane piercing our tattered, scanty garments, the pelting rain and sleet drenching us to the skin. At night there was no shelter from the pitiless storm, excepting such as we could find under the wet, dripping branches of the forest trees, or form by twisting their limbs into arches and covering them with moss gathered from the cypress trees. Those who could creep in under the awnings of the army wagons, which the guard had appropriated for their own quarters, were fortunate indeed. Sleep or rest there was none, and for two days and nights our lives dragged on in utter misery.

“A dozen or more of our number were shoeless, and many a footprint stained with the blood of these unfortunate ones could be traced along the snow-covered ground. A score at least had no clothing, except an improvised suit made by tieing their well-worn army blankets around their waists. The hope of release urged many a poor captive forward, who otherwise would have succumbed to the fatigues and hardships of the long marches. Even the Confederate soldiers who guarded us, although much better provided for than ourselves, were scantily and meanly clothed, and suffered severely.

“On the thirtieth of the month, after a day of intense suffering from the severity of the weather and the length and fatigues of the march, we reached the end of our journey, or rather the place where we were to await the arrival of the agents of exchange or parole. We were halted in the depths of a snow-covered wood; there left to ourselves to find such shelter as leafless, dripping branches of the trees afforded. This locality was known as ‘Four Mile Springs.’

“Beyond this wood was a camp of Federal prisoners, who had arrived some time before us, occupying long, frame barracks, crowded so as to afford no shelter for fresh arrivals. The appearance of these prisoners was wretched, and so filthy were their quarters our men declared that some of the vermin, or ‘graybacks’ as they were called, had inscribed upon their backs the words, ‘in for the war.’ These poor fellows had been quartered since their capture, some six months previous, at Camp Ford, Texas, but were marched to their present quarters a few weeks previous to our arrival, to await exchange. They were chiefly Indiana troops.

“The weather was extremely cold for this latitude, resembling more the rude, bleak winter of our Northern clime than the soft, genial atmosphere we had always associated in our minds when thinking of the sunny South, and was said to be the severest ever known in this region.

“For a few days after our arrival we were allowed to roam at will through the woods and vicinity without a guard, for the reason that in daily expectation of proceeding to our lines the men were not likely to attempt any escape. Days passed by in this partial state of freedom, until finally, as the days passed into weeks without any indications of a speedy release, our hopes again began to darken; the men grew restive, and numbers of them were daily missing at roll-call. Every man who attempted escape was recaptured before he got far away and brought back to be placed under guard.

“During our long captivity in Texas our hopes and expectations had so often been raised only to fall again, we got somewhat accustomed to disappointments of this nature, but never since our capture had we been quite so sure of immediate release, or felt the bitterness of ‘hope deferred,’ as we did then. In our prison days at Houston and Camp Groce we had regular quotations of exchange, and the stock was as fluctuating as any in the markets of Wall or State Streets; our days were made cheerful or gloomy according as the stock advanced or fell.

“One morning, at roll-call, we were all summoned to the headquarters of Colonel Théard, commanding the prison-guard, and informed that our Government refused to receive us as paroled prisoners, also refusing to negotiate for our exchange. The colonel made us a neat little speech, in which he expressed his sympathy for us in our deplorable condition, and informed us he had sent a letter to General Kirby Smith, commanding the Confederate Trans-Mississippi Department, asking him to issue clothing, and describing our destitution and sufferings. He also stated he had written to the general, that in case he could not comply with the request for clothing he should feel impelled, from an aversion to seeing so much distress continually before his eyes, to ask to be relieved of his duties as commander of the prison camp. As we never received any clothing from General Smith, or any other quarter, and as the Confederate soldiers were sadly in need of supplies, I was convinced that the Quartermaster Department of the Trans-Mississippi army was in a wofully depleted condition.

“In front of Colonel Théard’s headquarters was an extensive plateau, and here we were ordered to encamp, a guard again placed over us and the dead line traced out. This broad plain was perfectly barren of shrubbery or trees; not even a plot of grass could be found upon it. To make shelter for ourselves we were allowed to go into the woods in squads, under guard, and cut timber and gather leaves. In a few days there sprung into existence, upon this plateau, a village of huts and nondescript structures of the quaintest and most original designs imaginable. Many of these habitations consisted simply of a few bent twigs, arched so as to form a burrow just large enough to creep into head foremost, suitable only to sleep in. Those who from sickness or weakness were unable to erect a domicile depended upon the generosity of their more fortunate comrades, or slept in the open air. Our rations consisted chiefly of coarse corn meal, coarse salt, sugar, and occasionally beef. Having a limited number of cooking utensils, we were often obliged to wait for hours before we could cook our food. Our guards at this camp were a good-hearted set of fellows, and, with a few exceptions, inclined to favor us whenever they could.

“About the middle of January Colonel Théard was relieved of his command, much to our regret, for his treatment of us had been kind and considerate. His heart was evidently not much in sympathy with the rebellion, for we heard a short time after his removal he had left the Confederate army and taken the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government, in New Orleans. He was succeeded by Colonel Harrison, whose administration of affairs while not particularly harsh was lacking in the kindliness which we had always met with under Théard.

“Rumors of the opening of cartels for exchange were as rife here, and received almost as often, as in our former days at Houston and Camp Groce. ‘Exchange stock’ rose and fell with almost its former regularity; our daily advices from Shreveport caused a constantly-fluctuating stock board. Our own Government was universally condemned for its indifference or neglect of our welfare, and many an imprecation was hurled against those who had it in their power to exchange or parole us and would not. We frequently heard of the exchange of other Federal prisoners, and knew that the Confederates captured at Vicksburg and Port Hudson had all, long ago, been released, and therefore it was we complained so bitterly against our fate.

“About the middle of March rumors of General Banks’ advance towards Shreveport with a large army came thick and fast, greatly elating us with a hope they might soon encircle the place of our imprisonment. Suddenly, on the morning of March 26th, the prison camp was broken up and the prisoners, excepting Wentworth, Williams and I, were started on the road towards Texas, destined for Camp Ford.

“Upon our arrival at Four Mile Springs Wentworth and I discovered on the roadside, in the woods and beyond the place where the command had been halted, a log hut, in which we found quarters for the night. The hut was a small, dilapidated structure, like old log cabins of the early settlers, and evidently been standing for many years. We found it occupied by three Confederate soldiers, fitted up as a blacksmith shop for the cavalry forces in the vicinity. The exposed condition of the building rendered it only a partial shelter from the storm, for through chinks in the roof and walls the wind and sleet came in freely, and the smoke from the smouldering fire filled the space within almost to suffocation; however, it was a better refuge than the other prisoners could find. Upon lumps of coal and bits of iron on the rude forge I endeavored to find rest in vain; the wind blew through the log crevices in furious blasts, and that side of my clothing exposed to the hut walls was covered with a thin coating of ice, making sleep or comfort impossible. It was a terrible night for the half-clad, shivering wretches outside, and a most cheerless, uncomfortable one for those inside.

“The next morning broke clear, but cold and windy. A thin surface of sleety snow covered the ground, causing the landscape around us to look anything but Southern. The men were huddled around slowly burning camp fires, waiting patiently for the distribution of their meagre rations and trying to get warmth into their almost frozen limbs.

“The three soldiers occupying the hut were no better off as to accommodations, and not a whit better provided with rations than ourselves. We lived with them during our stay at Four Mile Springs, and became in that time greatly attached to them. Their names were Ramsey, Dick Fickling, and Stanley. Mr. Ramsey, or ‘Pap’ Ramsey, as he was familiarly called, was an old man, about sixty years of age, a splendid specimen of our ideal western backwoodsman. His life had been passed on the wild borders of the Indian Territory and Western Louisiana, knowing little of life in cities and towns. He had never strayed beyond his native prairies and forests until the Southern Confederacy, in its distress for every able-bodied man, brought him forth from his peaceful cabin, compelled to enter its service. He was conscripted some few months previous to our arrival, but being too old for the routine duties of a soldier’s life was detailed to serve as blacksmith for the regiment in which he was placed. A tall, broad-shouldered, well-built man, with gray hair and beard, and an eye as bright and keen as any young person; he was simple-hearted, unskilled in the ways and observances of the world, but with a vast experience of the rough, free, adventurous life of a pioneer. Stanley, his assistant, was a young man, about twenty-five years old, large-hearted, good-natured, and always ready for sport, but with a natural aversion to work. His comrades gave him the name of ’Fox,’ on account of the cunning and shrewdness he displayed in stealing away from camp to visit his home, sixteen miles away, on every possible occasion. He seldom applied for a furlough, deeming such sort of discipline, as he said, entirely unnecessary and too much like slavery. When called to account by his officers for his absence from his regiment, he generally appeased their wrath by presenting them with a fine turkey or shote. A conscript, he managed to evade camp duty by getting detailed as assistant-blacksmith, though wherein his assistance was of any value or service to Mr. Ramsey would have been difficult for an observer to tell. The only labor he was ever known to perform was to occasionally wield the sledge, when the other assistant was absent. His ideas in regard to the cause or object of the war were vague and indefinite, but as far as he knew them they were altogether opposed to the Southern Confederacy. He was the owner of one slave, who took charge of his little farm while he was away.

“Anxious to continue our abode with these kind-hearted soldiers, Wentworth and myself called upon Colonel Théard, when the prisoners were again placed under guard, prevailing upon him, after considerable pleading, to allow us a pass, granting the liberty of the camp until further orders; a phrase we construed to mean any distance within five miles of the hut. When Colonel Harrison succeeded Colonel Théard he was disposed to revoke this pass, condescending, after some persuasion, to let the order ‘remain for the present.’ He was a strict disciplinarian, severe and often harsh in his treatment of the prisoners and his own men; it was a surprise to all that we had won such favor.

“Time wore on pleasantly; the weather grew mild and genial, and about the middle of January the short Southern winter was over. Our hut was romantically situated, and since our occupation of it we had closed up the chinks in the sides and patched the roof, so that the rain could no longer gain entrance. The road in front of us wound through a broad tract of beautiful woodland, and stretched on in one direction to Shreveport, in the other to the prison lines. Beyond this forest was a vast waste of swamp land, covered with a prolific growth of cypress and gum trees, and intersected in every direction by dark, coffee-colored bayous, in which the finest species of the ’Buffalo’ fish were found. Along the banks of these streams and scattered over the bottom-lands were clusters of impenetrable thickets, where countless numbers of bright-plumaged birds made their nests, and where the venomous mocassin and deadly scorpion found hiding places. All day long, in the deep recesses of these lonely wilds, the air was resonant with the music of feathery warblers. We caught many of them in traps, which Stanley was expert at making, but remembering our own prison experience we never kept them long ‘in durance.’

“The hut soon became a popular rendezvous for Confederate soldiers passing to and from their camp, and we became acquainted with most every one belonging to the regiment acting as prison-guard. With some we formed friendships that lasted long after the war closed. Political questions were seldom argued, but when they were it was always with good humor on their part at least, and we were invariably treated with courtesy and kindness, often with generosity.

“Life at the hut was by no means monotonous; each day found us enjoying ourselves in a free and easy way. Mr. Ramsey was owner of a fine horse, and valued him highly. The old man gave me permission to ride the animal whenever I felt inclined, leaving the whole care of the horse to me. With Stanley, always ready for a drive, I took many an excursion through the woods and swamps and to the different plantations in the neighborhood; thus became acquainted with about every planter within a radius of five miles from camp. Amongst them was Mr. Elliot, owner of a plantation at Bayou Pierre, with whom I formed a most intimate and pleasant acquaintance. With him and his family I often passed a delightful hour, always entertained as a welcome guest. Mr. Elliot had formerly been in the Confederate army. While with his regiment in Tennessee, just after the battle of Perryville he purchased a furlough for a large amount of money, returning home, and had not again rejoined his command. In order to obtain exemption from conscription he purchased the position of superintendent of a Government planing-mill in Texas, but had not reported at his new field of service. He was a thorough Union man, and a bitter enemy of the Confederacy. His service in the army was compulsory, and although engaged in several battles said he had never fired a gun during the actions except in the direction of the sky. He was, like many others of the South, an owner of slaves, but not an advocate of slavery. Through him I became acquainted with many loyal men, and was surprised to find the Union sentiment so strong. Of the half-dozen or more planters living within four miles of the camp not one was an advocate of secession, but all were anxiously longing for the approach of our army to this portion of the State. Even amongst our prison-guard we found many a secret friend of the Union, who only waited for an opportunity to place themselves in the ranks of its army. The number of such was by no means small, although the great majority were loyal to the ‘Stars and Bars.’

“During the latter part of January I obtained of Colonel Harrison permission for two other prison comrades to live with us at the hut. They were Williams, whom we called ‘Transport,’ and the carpenter of the United States ship Morning Light, who went by the name of ‘Chips.’ Their arrival rendered it necessary for us to enlarge our dwelling. Through the soft persuasiveness of Wentworth, the quartermaster was prevailed upon to grant us a small supply of timber and nails, and in a short time we built a small addition to the hut, in which we erected sleeping bunks for the accommodation of us all.

“My acquaintance with the quartermaster’s clerk, young Finney, enabled me to obtain a much larger supply of rations than I was lawfully entitled to, and, as I was usually allowed to attend to the weighing of them, I did not hesitate to take advantage of this privilege for the benefit of us all. By going a short distance into the woods we were sure to find a stray hog or pig wandering around, and our stock of pork was always well kept up. It being against orders to kill any of them, the undertaking was always attended with considerable difficulty, and we were obliged to hunt our game at night. As we never could get near enough to kill them by any other means than shooting, the report of our gun at midnight was frequently heard at camp, the officers invariably causing inquiries to be made concerning the reason of the untimely firing. To prevent discovery we concealed our game in a small cellar, dug under the floor of our hut annex, with the boards so arranged that they appeared nailed down to the uninitiated. Our cooking of this food was done when no prying eyes were upon us and the savory odor would not be likely to betray us. Besides this sort of fare, costing nothing, we had frequent opportunities of purchasing sweet potatoes, eggs and butter, with money obtained by the sale of our tricks and watches when leaving Camp Groce. Our table was unrivalled by any of the ‘messes,’ either of the prisoners or the guard. The ne plus ultra of cookery were the ‘corn-dodgers’ Wentworth made to perfection, and which were certainly worthy the skill of the finest French cook. Old ‘Pap’ Ramsey refused to indulge his appetite with this rich food, claiming that such delicacies would inevitably bring on gout or dyspepsia, and that his palate, accustomed to the coarse, homely fare of the backwoods, was unfitted for the luxurious compound which Wentworth made. Through the colonel’s orderly, George Cole, I was usually the recipient of some dainties from his table, after an entertainment had been given by that officer to visiting friends.

“One day during February Wentworth obtained permission of Colonel Harrison to visit Shreveport on one of the army wagons, which made daily trips to that place. His stay there, for a few hours only, was quite long enough for him to get disgusted with the appearance of the city, and especially with the fabulous price they charged him for his dinner; a small piece of pork, with bread and butter, and a tiny cup of coffee cost him six dollars.

“A few days after Wentworth’s return ‘Transport’ made the same trip without obtaining the requisite permission. The day previous, while strolling in the woods, he met in a quiet nook a few Confederate teamsters with a supply of Louisiana rum, which they invited him to drink. The temptation was too strong for his feeble powers of resistance, and the potations were so deep and frequent that he was soon exalted to a state of complete recklessness. In this condition he remained with his jovial friends over night, accompanying them the next morning to Shreveport. On reaching the city he was so muddled for awhile he was unable to clearly comprehend the state of affairs, and even in doubt as to his own identity, whether he was a Federal prisoner or a Confederate soldier. The following morning he was found at the entrance to a hospital, standing guard for a soldier whom he had succeeded in making even drunker than himself. An hour or so later he found himself on board the ram Webb (then lying in the river abreast of the city), in the presence of a recruiting officer, who endeavored to persuade him to join the vessel, by offering him tempting inducements in the shape of pay and bounty. ‘Transport,’ though very drunk, was not to be enticed by any proffers which they could make him to desert his flag.

“Late that evening he returned in company with his convivial friends, reckless of consequences and unable to give a satisfactory account of his trip. That same night he was sent for, to explain his absence without leave, failing in which he was deprived of his liberty and placed under guard again. The next morning I met him in camp, and a more pitiful-looking object I could hardly have imagined; no wonder the poor fellow was disconsolate after his recent experience of partial freedom with us. He begged me to intercede with Colonel Harrison and obtain his release, swearing eternal gratitude if I would, and promising not to be overcome by such a temptation again. I found the colonel in good humor and had no difficulty in persuading him to grant ‘Transport’ a new lease of freedom; only he proposed, he said, to hold me personally responsible for my comrade’s good behavior in the future. His demonstrations of joy, when I carried him the good news, were unbounded, but his promises of good behavior were short-lived, for the same day he again fell in with his festive friends, and during his spree so far forgot himself as to make a visit to the colonel, at his headquarters, to request the loan of a horse. The utter ridiculousness of such a request, coupled with the jovial good nature with which he made it, so amused the colonel that he allowed him to return to the hut with a slight reprimand. A few days after this ‘Chips’ was remanded to the lines for drunkenness and insulting an officer of the guard while in that condition.

“For several days during the latter part of March the prison camp was kept in a continuous state of excitement by a variety of conflicting rumors concerning the disposition to be made of us, on account of the approach of our army up the Red River, under General Banks. An occasional report would reach us that we were to be sent at once to our lines and transportation down the river was being prepared; but the gist of these rumors indicated a removal of all prisoners in this vicinity to Camp Ford, in Texas. We were on the alert for any news of a definite description; our only fear was that we would be suddenly ordered into camp with the other prisoners.

“While standing by the fire-place in the hut, early on the chilly morning of March 26th, I saw a squad of cavalry pass along the road in front, and a few of their number dismounted and entered, to warm themselves by the fire. I saw at once they were not Colonel Harrison’s men, and inquired where they were going so early in the morning. Not knowing I was a ‘Yankee’ prisoner, they replied that they had come from Shreveport for the purpose of taking the ‘Yanks’ to Camp Ford, and said the ‘Yankee’ army was booming along up the Red River and had already reached Natchitoches, and would soon reach Shreveport unless defeated. The prisoners were to start at nine o’clock, under orders to make forced marches until their destination was reached. I pretended to be much pleased at the idea of being relieved from guard duty, and gave utterance to a few other justifiable prevarications to conceal my identity, fearing all the while a guard or summons should come for us from the camp.

“When they had gone I went to the bunk where Wentworth, who heard the conversation, was lying, and urged him to start immediately for the swamp in rear of Elliot’s Plantation. As he was undecided what to do, I started for the woods, meeting ‘Transport,’ who joined me, until a deep ravine near the swamps was reached. I left ‘Transport’ and started for the hut for my money I forgot to bring away. Meeting Mrs. Gupton, an acquaintance, she volunteered to procure my money while I awaited her return. She soon came back with it and the information that Wentworth was alone at the hut, still undecided what to do. I made my way to Elliot’s Plantation, and waking Elliot up, for it was yet early, I explained the situation of affairs and asked his advice. He told me to return to the ravine, secrete myself until I should hear from him, and that he would visit camp to obtain all the information he could.

“Finding ‘Transport’ where I left him, we lay for hours expecting every moment to be discovered or trailed by hounds, which we could hear yelping in the distance. Late in the afternoon Mr. Elliot sought us, bringing a substantial supply of food, the more welcome because we had eaten nothing since the day previous. He reported that on his way to camp he found the prisoners already drawn up in the road, near the hut, answering to roll-call. He was unable to state whether our names had been called, but thought they had been omitted or some one had responded for us. He found Wentworth inside the hut, seated upon a log, smoking, and apparently in deep thought. He advised him to strike for liberty at once, and Wentworth jumped out of the window in the rear, hurrying to a thicket that bordered a small stream back of the hut. Shortly afterwards line was formed and the command given to start. We passed the night in a woody hollow between the trunks of two fallen trees, every now and then alarmed by a pack of hounds barking near by, who we feared were on our track, but we afterwards learned belonged to a neighboring planter, a Union man.

“Early next morning Mr. Elliot sent a servant to us with breakfast, and shortly after appeared himself. We held a consultation as to the best mode of procedure, and concluded that the safest plan would be to remain concealed near or in the swamp-lands, until Banks’ army approached, which we then had no doubt would soon be in this vicinity. Mr. Elliot offered to supply us with food and to give us such information as he could obtain. The weather being now mild and pleasant, our open-air quarters were rather pleasant than otherwise.”

The statement of Private Hersey ends here. The following account of wanderings and adventures in the attempt of Wentworth, Hersey and Williams to reach the Federal lines is compiled from Private Hersey’s diary, and verified by him:

Hersey and Williams remained concealed in the swamp, at “Fort Hersey” (so named), until April 17th, their wants provided for by Mr. Elliot, when they found Wentworth, who had been kindly befriended by a Confederate soldier named Leeds, afterwards by a Mr. McGee, owner of a plantation. They knew of reënforcements for the Confederates arriving from Texas and Arkansas, and saw a portion of General Price’s Arkansas men marching along a road crossing the margin of the swamp, on their way towards Mansfield. They heard heavy firing in that direction April 8th, and the next day were informed by Mr. Elliot of the total defeat of the Federal troops at Sabine Cross-Roads and their retreat to Alexandria.

At McGee’s Plantation a conference was held by Hersey, Wentworth, Williams and several Unionists, Mr. Elliot, Mr. Dickinson, Mr. Bell, and Mr. McGee, when it was decided the safest course was for them to make their way down the country by following the river until Alexandria was reached, and watch for an opportunity to cross into the Federal lines. This meeting was held April 17th, and the tramp was commenced April 20th (declining to allow a deserter from the Confederate army to join them), by Wentworth, Hersey and Williams, who crossed the Red River to the north bank at Bell’s Plantation, to follow the plan decided upon, viz., to cross the river, follow its course down, keeping in the swamps and woods as much as possible, claim to belong to Harrison’s regiment if questioned or suspected, and that they were on their way to rejoin from the hospital at Shreveport. Harrison’s regiment was then on the north bank operating against the Federal navy, under Admiral Porter. They felt confident their clothing would not betray them, as it was entirely of homespun material.

The first day, while being entertained by Union people, Monsieur Lattier and his two granddaughters, Mrs. Scopenie and Miss Sophia Hall, they escaped capture by three cavalry-men, who rode up to the house, by hiding in one of the rooms until they had departed. The ladies thought it was a very romantic episode, but the prisoners did not. Travelling sometimes all night, or all day, or partly by day and night, in the swamps, with their course lying in a south-easterly direction, they were guided by the North Star when the nights were clear, occasionally losing the way when the sky was clouded. Food was obtained by going to houses and asking for it; water, by filling their canteens at rain-water cisterns; and sleep, in deserted cabins, corn cribs, or under trees.

They were always enabled to trace the windings of the Red River by tall trees that grew along its banks and marked its course. Most of the planters’ residences were situated near the river road, facing the river; the plantations extending back to the swamp-lands or forests. The land in this region was as level as a prairie, and the soil of the farms a rich, black earth, with scarcely the smallest pebble to be found upon it. They crossed Loggy Bayou on the twenty-second, went through Springville Village at night on the twenty-fourth, reaching the pine woods on the twenty-fifth, where it was almost impossible to conceal themselves from the eyes of anybody they chanced to meet, on account of the absence of undergrowth or shrubbery. In passing through the town of Compti, on the twenty-sixth, recently burned by the Federals, Hersey says: “We stopped in a ravine on the edge of the town until after midnight, and then quietly and cautiously went forward. The few houses remaining look deserted, and the whole scene, as we viewed it in the darkness of the night, was the picture of desolation. The silence of death reigned over the place, except now and then when an owl would hoot in the woods that fringed the suburbs. We had just reached a bridge crossing a little stream in the centre of the town when we were terribly alarmed by the sudden sound of horses hoofs on the road behind us. On looking back we saw through the darkness a number of horses galloping towards the bridge at a terrific rate, so rapidly as to give us no chance to escape them. The scare was of short duration, for when they rushed by we saw that they were riderless, and probably had taken us for their masters. The shock produced a sense of timidity upon us we could not shake off with all the assumption of gayety and laughter that we outwardly manifested, and we felt greatly relieved when we reached the woods and left the desolate town far behind us.”

They frequently saw officers and men, but managed to evade them, until on the night of April 27th they reached a bayou and were dismayed to find a soldier on guard at the only fording place they could discover. Hersey says: “This was the worst obstacle we had yet encountered, and we were at loss to find a way to overcome it. The banks of the stream were high and steep. We crept onward to get a better view of the situation, and could plainly see the sentry by the light of his bivouac fire. He was sitting or reclining upon an old log with the light shining upon his face, his gun across his shoulder. We soon saw he was fast asleep, and decided to cross while he was wrapt in slumber. The distance from bank to bank was short, but the fording place was narrow and almost barred by the form of the guard. The undertaking was venturesome, but there was no other way out of the difficulty, so we determined to run the gauntlet. Arranging to go one at a time, Wentworth started first, passed the sentry safely, climbing the opposite bank. As I drew near I felt a strange fascination which almost deprived me of action, and when I reached him was compelled to stop and gaze into his face before the spell was dissolved. Williams, who came last, was also successful, but we could not resist our suppressed laughter at the comical figure he cut in his endeavors to deaden the sound of his footsteps. With a sense of relief we made haste to gain the woods, and travelled on until morning.”

On the twenty-ninth of April, when within thirty miles of Alexandria, they accidentally stopped at the house of a Jayhawker (a name given to those secret bands of Southern Unionists who resisted by force the conscription acts and were the deadliest foes of the guerrillas), who provided them with food and excused himself from giving breakfast to a Confederate lieutenant of cavalry and three privates, who rode up while the three escaped prisoners were talking with their host upon the door-porch. By advice of this Jayhawker they endeavored to find a Madam Nowlan, who lived near the river, and who, he said, would find a way to assist them across the river into the Federal lines.

The next day, April 30th, while proceeding in the direction given them how to find Madam Nowlan’s Plantation, they encountered an army wagon and learned from a soldier that Harrison’s cavalry was not far away, stationed on that side of the river. This fact decided them to represent Texans, knowing they were on the south side, and they were well acquainted with the history of many Texas regiments. About noon they called at a house to procure a dinner, introducing themselves as Texas soldiers attached to Captain Clipper’s company, of Elmore’s regiment, on their way from Shreveport hospitals to rejoin their company. While awaiting dinner, conversation was carried on with the host, under some shady trees, about army matters, until Williams asked the nearest way to reach Madam Nowlan, when a red-headed man came from the house and demanded in a rough tone: “What do you know about Madam Nowlan?” The question was so abruptly asked, Wentworth and Hersey were disconcerted for a moment. They were subjected to a series of questions and cross questions, which were answered as best they could; Hersey’s information, gathered while visiting Colonel Harrison’s headquarters, about the Confederate troops in Louisiana and reënforcements expected from Texas and Arkansas coming in very opportune.

The red-headed man was a “courier,” named Harris, attached to the “courier line” carrying despatches between army headquarters and Shreveport, on the north bank of Red River. He suspected the three prisoners were spies, and was not to be duped. Disappearing for a short time, he returned followed by three soldiers, who apparently dropped in one at a time, as if by chance. Courier Harris laid his plans well. Offering no opposition to their departure, they started for the river road, when he followed them and began conversation, intimating a desire on his part to desert. They were not to be caught by this trick and resented such proposals, when he rode away, after directing them how to reach the river crossing. Feeling that the end was near, they kept on until a deserted log house built upon piles, beneath which was a little grass plot, tempted them to rest under its cool shelter.

While resting a pack of hounds surrounded them, soon followed by a cavalry squad, headed by Harris, who levelled their guns and ordered a surrender. The prisoners were taken to the house of Mr. Swafford, said to be the headquarters of the courier line, and there kept until their case was reported to Brigadier-General Liddel, commanding Confederate forces.

On Monday, May 2d, Captain Micot, chief of the courier line, arrived to take them to General Liddel, whose camp was about twenty-five miles distant, opposite Alexandria. Captain Micot was sociable and friendly, expressing his sympathy and promising to do what he could for them. He did so, returning from an interview with his general exclaiming: “Well, boys, I’ve got good tidings for you,” handing them a piece of paper, torn from the blank leaf of a printed book, upon which the following lines were written in pencil:

---

“Guards and pickets will pass Samuel R. Hersey, David L. Wentworth and Charles Williams outside the Confederate lines.

“BRIGADIER-GENERAL LIDDEL,
“Per ——, A. A. A. G.”

A verbal provision was attached to the pass, that they must not attempt to reach the Federal lines on Red River, but return by way of Harrisonburg, thence to the Federal forces on the Mississippi River. This pass, Captain Micot informed them, would be respected by all regular Confederate soldiers, but probably not by the guerrillas, as they were not subject to the discipline of the army. Thus was Williams’ oft-repeated prediction, “Our journey is only a round-about road to Texas again, it would be better for us if we had gone with the crowd,” not likely to be realized.

The three prisoners returned to Swafford’s house, accompanied by Captain Micot and a private named Meecum. Meecum, who found an opportunity to unbosom himself, advised them to call upon his father, a Baptist clergyman and member of a league of Jayhawkers, residing about seventeen miles from Swafford’s, directly on their way, who would mark out a course to pursue that would be of assistance. He had a brother serving in the Federal army, and his sympathies were with the Union cause; his service was compulsory with the Confederates.

Wednesday, May 4th, Wentworth, Hersey and Williams again commenced a tramp of one hundred and seventy-five miles, after an adieu to their Confederate friends who had treated them very kindly; since their recapture it appeared to them as though they were friends upon a visit, so considerate had been the treatment they received from everybody with whom they came in contact. Mr. Swafford presented Wentworth with a blood-hound “pup” of fine breed, as a remembrancer of him, and also as a reward for those songs Wentworth sang at his house and the marvellous yarns he told, the like of which they never heard before and will probably never listen to again.

They were hospitably entertained that night by Rev. Mr. Meecum, the next night by Mr. Paul, twenty miles beyond, and then travelled onward carefully in order to avoid guerrillas, especially a band known as “dog” Smith’s (a name given them on account of their use of bloodhounds in hunting victims), until May 8th, stopping each night with some friendly Unionist, to whom they were directed by the preceding host.

It was on Sunday, May 8th, after remaining over night with a Mr. “Jack” Wharton, as he was called, they walked into a guerrilla camp, situated in the dense woods near Tensas River. The “pass” did not satisfy the motley crowd of ill-clad, villainous-looking men, who heaped the vilest epithets upon them, and several men threatened to shoot them down but were held back by their comrades.

The guerrilla chief, Captain Smith, was absent, and the prisoners were taken before a Lieutenant Eddington, a young man about twenty-five years old, tall and well shaped, with features indicative of refinement and intelligence, whose parents lived in Missouri. The prisoners told their story and plead for their lives. After talking the matter over, Eddington was satisfied the “pass” was genuine, and told them the only thing he could do was to pass them out of his tent by the rear, while his men were ordered away, and advised them to “run for it” to the river bank, where they would find a regular company of Confederate cavalry, commanded by a Captain Gillespie. His men, so he said, were much exasperated over the loss of some of their comrades, captured in a recent skirmish with colored troops, and who had been shot.

A Colonel Jones, an officer in the Confederate service, wounded at Shiloh, owner of some four thousand acres of cleared land along the Tensas River and vicinity, invited them to his house and provided supper and sleeping apartments. Colonel Jones knew they were paroled Federal prisoners on the way to Natchez, and the reason of his hospitality was unfolded when he called Hersey aside and requested him to inform General Tuttle at Natchez, with the utmost secresy, that three hundred bales of cotton were on the way down Black River, coming from Colonel Jones.

The three men started shortly after sunrise, on Monday, May 9th, for Natchez, expecting to walk the distance that day. The danger of again encountering guerrilla bands was all they had to fear. By nightfall they were within hearing of the evening guns from the forts around Vidalia. While walking rapidly along the road three United States colored cavalry-men, in a menacing manner, ordered them to halt, and demanded to know who they were. No explanation would be believed by these wide-awake soldiers, who marched the prisoners into town to the provost-marshal’s office, where the mistake was rectified, and they received good treatment at the only hotel in the place. At Natchez, the following morning, their appearance in such ridiculous clothes as they wore created considerable commotion in the streets. Whenever they stopped a crowd of curious people gathered around, enabling Wentworth, with his fertile genius for story telling, to relate in a most thrilling manner the story of their escape, embellished with a few deeds of bloodshed and heroic action. A Mr. Marsh, in charge of the New England Aid Society store, offered to clothe them, but the offer was declined, as the Quartermaster Department provided for them.

From Natchez the three escaped men were sent to Vicksburg, and from there got transportation to Washington, by way of Cairo. Williams parted company with Wentworth and Hersey at Cairo, not desirous to go on to Washington, and remained to seek employment upon the transport-steamers on the river; Wentworth and Hersey proceeded to Washington, obtained their pay without trouble, and reached Boston, home again, June 1st, 1864, having passed over sixteen months of their lives as prisoners of war.

Charles Williams, “Transport,” was last heard from May 24th, 1864, when he was furnished transportation from Chicago to Utica, New York, by a United States quartermaster, as Williams claimed to be a private of Company D, Forty-Second Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, on sick leave, granted by Brigadier-General Tuttle.

CHAPTER XVIII.
Officers in Confederate Prisons—Houston—State Prison—Camp Groce—Camp Ford—En-Route Home—At Home.

Soon after the enlisted men (Galveston prisoners of war) were paroled and left for the Federal lines, the officers retained at Houston were joined (January 25th) by one hundred and nine prisoners taken at Sabine Pass, officers and crews of the U. S. sailing vessels Morning Light and Velocity. Among them were Acting Masters Dillingham, Fowler and Washburn, Masters-Mates Chambers and Rice, Acting Assistant-Surgeon J. W. Shrify, and Captain Hammond of the Velocity.

These two successful ventures (Galveston and Sabine Pass) elated the Texans, giving them a confidence in their prowess that expressed itself in constant jubilations. “We Texans are whales,” remarked by one of them to a prisoner, was but an index of opinions they all entertained.

The officers were allowed liberty of the city, on their parole-of-honor, for about a week or ten days after reaching Houston, when this privilege was withdrawn, and they were kept in close confinement. This freedom was not improved further than to purchase supplies. Union men had secretly cautioned them not to go out in the then excited state of feeling among the people, who thought hanging was good enough for Federal officers. A watch was upon every one who evinced a desire to show the Federals any attention. One man, who gave them a stove, was thrown into confinement. Another man, a storekeeper, had Colonel Burrell dine with him at home, but did not dare to visit the officers in their quarters. In conversation with the provost-marshal on this state of feeling, that official said they were safe from any trouble while under guard, for the army did not wish any harm to come to them, because there was no telling when they would find themselves in the same predicament; still the prisoners were chary of trust in either army or people, and at night barricaded their prison-apartment door with what chairs they had; each man armed himself with a stick of wood for defence, if an occasion arose.

There were men in Houston who secretly passed into the officers’ hands a sufficient amount of Confederate bills to supply their needful wants. Prominent in this good work was a Mr. H. W. Benchley, who was lieutenant-governor of Massachusetts in 1855. The money thus obtained was of the greatest benefit at the time, enabling many necessaries to be procured. The names of all these men are not known. Many were former citizens of Massachusetts, whose hearts were not alienated from the old Bay State. There was a slumbering affection for the United States Government, kept in abeyance from fear of the Confederate authorities, who, it has been proved beyond a question, were wont to treat with severity every man suspected of sympathy with the Federal Government.

The prisoners’ quarters would have been tolerable comfortable had any decent arrangements been made to take care of excrements, made by Confederate soldiers and Federal prisoners. The lower stories were occupied by troops, the upper story by prisoners, who had to stand all bad odor that ascended from below. Rations issued, while not what the prisoners would like, nor, in fact, such as Northern people would consider fit to eat, were quite as good as the authorities issued to their own troops, accustomed to that kind of food. To become accustomed to “corn-meal coffee” and coarse “corn-dodger” was hard work. Food was issued to last ten days at a time, and had to do so. Each man was expected to fare no better than his fellows. No trouble occurred until Stone and Dillingham helped themselves one day, out of meal hours, to ginger-bread laid aside. Some personal feeling was engendered when they were remonstrated with, and the Confederate provost-marshal issued an order that made Colonel Burrell commander of the Federal prisoners. An effort was made to draw up a code of regulations all would agree to be governed by, but no committee could be found to do this duty. Colonel Burrell was obliged to exercise a supervision over all matters material to their welfare until he left Houston.

Ennui of confinement, in January, February and March, was somewhat abated by singing, card playing, drills in sword exercise, with sticks of wood for weapons, and gymnastic exercises. On and after February 12th they were allowed two hours a day, under guard, to stroll around the city and outskirts, generally to cross Buffalo Bayou and play ball upon the prairie land, free of annoyance from citizens. This privilege was granted on a medical certificate from Surgeon Cummings, stating such liberty was absolutely necessary, and consent obtained of General Magruder, through Surgeon Peples, medical director of the Department, with whom Cummings was on intimate terms.

The Houston Telegraph was eagerly read every morning, and each item relating to exchange of prisoners or their parole was sought for and noted. They could get little satisfactory information from its columns concerning the situation of military affairs; according to its “pony express news,” victories were always with the Southern arms, and such victories! Bombastes Furioso could not have done better than did the publisher of this newspaper.

Among the frequent visitors was Major Shannon, C. S. A., who did his best to make everything pleasant, also a Captain Chubb, formerly from Charlestown, Mass., then a resident of Texas. Chubb was captured early in the war by Federals, and confined in Fort Lafayette for over a year. He was much given to boasting, and could utter more oaths in one sentence than any man the prisoners ever heard. Notwithstanding his boasts, bluster, and intense fire-eating proclivities, he was always found to be pleasant, agreeable company, kind and generous at heart, ever ready to do the prisoners a favor. He did contribute money to the officers’ fund in a quiet way. Other visitors were a Mr. Whitcomb, formerly of Roxbury, Mass., and a Mr. Stearns, of Waltham, Mass., then an engineer on the Galveston and Houston Railroad.

Acting-Master Munroe, wounded upon the Harriet Lane, died January 30th, and was buried next day, the funeral being attended by all of the naval officers present. Corporal McIntosh, Company D, died February 10th, in hospital, at six P.M., and was buried next day in the afternoon. The officers made a neat head-board to mark his grave. March 26th Private O’Shaughnessy, Company D, made his first appearance, on crutches, since losing his leg at Galveston. April 6th Private Josselyn, Company D, wounded at Galveston, was discharged from hospital.

On the twenty-ninth of April an order came from General Magruder to send all commissioned officers to the State Penitentiary at Huntsville, there to be kept in close confinement until further orders. This order, so it was stated, came from Richmond, and was to place in confinement all captured officers that were in General Butler’s army, and was said to be in retaliation for a similar act of the Federal authorities. None of the officers came from Butler’s army; General Banks had superseded him, and the 42d Mass. was acting under Banks’ orders. Without any regular order from General Banks in his possession, Colonel Burrell was unable to make the authorities understand this fact, or more likely they chose not to understand it. All colored men in the captured crews of the Harriet Lane and Morning Light had previously been sent to this prison, to do convict duty. An intimation of some proceeding like this was given on the nineteenth.

Under escort of a cavalry detachment the officers proceeded to the Texas Central Railroad depot to take a special freight car, at nine o’clock A.M. Dinner was eaten at Cypress City, twenty-five miles from Houston, and at half-past four P.M. they reached Navasota, where quarters were provided for nineteen officers in one room eighteen feet square, at the Morning Star Hotel. Supper and breakfast cost them two dollars each. After breakfast next morning, and a friendly shake of the hand by General Sam. Houston, who promised to call at their new quarters and see them, at quarter-past six o’clock they took four wagons, with mule teams, provided to make the journey to their destination, forty-five miles distant, and arrived at the prison about noon May 1st, where the information was imparted that they were to be confined in separate cells. A protest was drawn up, signed by all, and Surgeon Cummings, with Frank Veazie, non-combatants, returned with the same to Houston. This was not a May-day festival for the prisoners.

In this old-fashioned prison, with none of the conveniences now in use, convicts were employed at the shop in manufacturing cotton cloth for the Confederate Government, a Mr. Chandler, from Massachusetts, acting as superintendent of the factory. Life was enjoyed somewhat after this routine: after the convicts had gone to work, the officers were released from their cells and allowed to do as they pleased in the yard until dinner hour, when they returned to their cells, to be released again after the convicts had eaten their dinner and returned to work. This rule was in force for nine days only, when Colonel Carruthers obtained a supply of lumber, had cots made in a room in the upper story of the prison building facing the street, and this room, on and after May 9th, was occupied by all of the officers for a sleeping apartment. Regular prison fare was provided on the first day, when Colonel Carruthers, in charge of the prison, a humane man, informed his military prisoners he would shoulder the responsibility and give them meals at his own table, although without authority to do so. After this no complaint could be made on that score. Confined a few nights in small, hot cells, afterwards in the large room, was the extent of their inconvenience until released from prison June 27th, nearly two months from the day they entered prison walls. General Houston, Mrs. Houston, their two daughters and son, Andrew Jackson Houston, frequently visited the officers and entertained them so far as lay in their power. Old Sam, seventy years old, straight as an arrow, was a very interesting entertainer, with enlivening conversation of his experience in the United States Senate.

The officers subjected to the indignity of a prison confinement by the Confederate officials were: Colonel Burrell, Captains Sherive, Proctor and Savage, Lieutenants Cowdin, White, Eddy, Newcomb, Bartlett and Stowell, 42d Mass. Vols.; Masters Hamilton and Hannum, Engineers Plunkett and Stone, of the Harriet Lane; Masters Dillingham, Fowler and Washburn, Masters-Mates Chambers and Rice, Purser’s Clerk Van Wycke, of the Morning Light; Captain Hammond, of the Velocity. The three last-named were not brought to prison until May 14th.

Engineers Plunkett and Stone were taken to court, held in Houston June 10th, to testify in the case of a man who was on trial for repairing the boilers of the Harriet Lane while she lay in front of Galveston. Plunkett refused to testify and was placed in jail for contempt of court, but soon after released.

After Magruder sent these officers to Huntsville prison, with orders to have them treated as prisoners of war in confinement and not as felons, a controversy arose between the State and military authorities over the right of the latter to send prisoners of war to the penitentiary. The result was their transfer to a new camp established for war prisoners at Hempstead, called Camp Groce.

Leaving behind Colonel Burrell, sick with rheumatism, under care of Captain Sherive, the other officers left Huntsville June 27th for Camp Groce, under escort of a cavalry guard commanded by Captain Cundiff. Transportation back to Navasota was in wagons, with three extra wagons, hired at ten dollars a day from each man, to carry their baggage. Twelve miles were made on the first day, and sleeping accommodations found at night in an old school-house, having dinner and supper from rations provided by kind Mrs. Carruthers. Twenty-one miles were travelled the second day, at night bivouacking under trees in a splendid moonlight, and Navasota was reached on the twenty-ninth, about noon. There they remained until the thirtieth, when cars were taken for Camp Groce, which place was reached at eleven o’clock in the forenoon.

Until removed to Camp Groce the few enlisted men 42d Mass., left behind at Houston, were quartered in a large warehouse used for storage of general merchandise, in company with sailors composing the Morning Light crew. These sailors were a motley crowd, comprising men from nearly every nation: Irish, English, Dutch, Spanish, Greek, Italian, and two South Sea Islanders. They did not mind captivity, apparently thought of nothing beyond amusement. Occasionally they got put in irons for some misdemeanor or violation of rules, but no sooner were the irons riveted upon their ankles than off they were filed by comrades, to be again put on when an officer of the day came around to call the roll. One night three of these rollicking sailors broke away from the building and went on a spree, with some of Captain Clipper’s men. While on a raid through the city, mounted on horses, they all rode into a bar-room and were captured by the provost-guard, brought back to quarters, and placed in irons that had no terrors for them.

Several prisoners recently captured in Louisiana were brought in June 1st, and three more June 9th, taken at Franklin, La. One of these new prisoners, Hugh Dolan, became a great favorite with the sailors immediately on arrival on account of his wonderful vocal abilities, so they thought, and light-hearted manner. One of his favorite songs was “Bowld Jack Donahoe,” and whenever he sang this song his nautical audience would listen with the most profound attention.

What the “boys” considered an affliction was the removal of their kind-hearted and friendly “old guard,” Captain Clipper’s company, ordered to Galveston June 9th. Another company, commanded by Captain Buster, had for some time assisted Captain Clipper in guarding the prisoners, and remained to do that duty. The men of this company were not liked very much by any of their charge; none of that cordial feeling existed as had been the case with the “old guard.” They were a despicable set of fellows. Captain Buster, a mild, pleasant man, lacked energy and was too indolent to pay much attention to the discipline of his men. His first-lieutenant, Morgan, was a bombastic and disagreeable man, who paid little attention to his prisoners. This guard remained on duty until September 18th, when militia relieved them.

Floating rumors in regard to removal up country were verified on the thirteenth of June, when all prisoners in Houston were taken by railroad to Camp Groce, enjoying an all-day ride upon platform freight cars, without shelter from a hot sun. Their new home was a long, narrow frame barrack, leaky in rainy weather, divided into three compartments, situated about three hundred yards from the railroad, in the centre of a dry, sandy clearing, with a few trees left for shade. This clearing was surrounded by a belt of woods on all sides but one, and near by was a sluggish body of swamp water bordered by cypress trees. The place was supplied with bad water from two deep wells. Another row of barracks, occupied by the guard, ran almost parallel to those occupied by prisoners, at about two hundred yards distance. A few frame buildings between these barracks and the railroad served as quarters for Confederate officers.

The location of Camp Groce was decidedly unhealthy, and had been abandoned by Confederate troops as a camp of instruction for this reason. Arrangement of sinks was bad, not at all conducive to health. Sickness prevailed to such an extent there were not enough men able to watch and properly attend their sick companions. When a person stops to think of what has to be done in cases where patients are too weak to move themselves, with primitive utensils at hand to perform necessary acts, it is a wonder how prisoners in this hospital camp managed to exist. Each sick man remained with his mess for care and attention. Hospital accommodations were not provided, except what was in the town reserved for exclusive use of Confederates.

All through August, September, October and part of November, the dull monotony of prison life wore on unattended by any hopeful news or enlivening sensations. Communications were forwarded to General Banks, the Secretary of War, and General Meredith, Federal Commissioner for the exchange of prisoners, on the subject of being paroled or exchanged. None of the prisoners then understood why the Federal Government did not do something in their behalf. They were informed by Colonel Sayles, who formerly commanded at Camp Groce, that repeated efforts had been made by the Confederate authorities to induce the Federal Government to exchange them, but the Federal authorities repeatedly refused to listen to any propositions towards that end, also stating that the Confederates were as anxious to get rid of their prisoners as they were to go, and placed the responsibility for their continued captivity on the Federal Government. This misstatement of facts naturally caused some animosity of feeling among the prisoners towards their own Government, losing strength each day, with sickness and death constantly staring them in the face. They were not aware of the obstruction existing to interrupt an exchange of prisoners; that the Government was fighting with the enemy for a principle, the placing of negro soldiers on a par with white troops, entitled to the common usages of war when taken prisoners.

On the eighteenth of October a strict search was made through the barracks, for what purpose the prisoners were not informed, but surmised it was to ascertain if any parties in the State, Houston in particular, had compromised themselves by writing them. News of the arrest of Union men, especially in Houston, was often heard. In this search all money was taken away under a promise of return, and a receipt given. Writings, diaries and letters were seized, never to be seen again.

A stockade was built in October completely encircling the camp, made so high escape by climbing would be impossible, and the prisoners became down-hearted at this indication of a possible lengthy stay, when, on the sixteenth of November, after most of the men had retired for the night, Colonel Burrell entered the barracks with news that all were to be paroled as soon as the papers could be made out. Wild excitement prevailed on the announcement of these joyous tidings, and the night was passed without sleep, amid cheers, yells, and frantic demonstrations of delight.

All hands commenced to get ready, by disposing of “traps” they could spare to purchasers easily found among the guard and citizens. Parole papers were signed by the enlisted men November 20th, and the march for three hundred miles to Shreveport, La., commenced December 9th. On December 11th the officers were removed to Camp Ford, Tyler, Smith County, Texas, well understanding they must keep up courage until the new year came in, and manage in some way to get through approaching winter, ill-prepared as they were to stand cold weather, from having disposed of many necessary articles of clothing to obtain money to purchase food while on their way to the Federal lines, when they expected to go with the enlisted men.

The following record of sundry events at Camp Groce was culled from several diaries:

“July 4th—Celebrated in the best manner possible under the circumstances, and was dull enough. The day was not recognized by the Confederates. July 11th—A battalion of conscripts arrived in camp; most of them Germans and Mexicans. July 30th—Barracks look like a hospital. Six officers sick abed, and out of one hundred men sixty are in the same condition. Not a man is in good health; all are ailing, though those not in bed have to keep up and about to attend the others. Impossible to procure suitable medicines even with money collected among the prisoners to obtain medical supplies; none furnished by the authorities. August 1st—Colonel Nott, Lieutenant-Colonel Duganne and Lieutenant Sherman, 176th N. Y.; Captain Van Tyne, 131st N. Y.; Lieutenants Bassett and Wilson, 48th Mass.; Lieutenant Humble, 4th Mass.; and seven civilians, captured at Brashear City and on the La-Fourche, arrived in camp. After these arrivals Sunday services were held, Colonels Nott or Duganne officiating. August 6th—Colonel Burrell and Captain Sherive arrived from Huntsville State Prison. September 14th—Two hundred and twenty prisoners arrived in camp, taken at Sabine Pass on the tenth instant. The wounded arrived September 30th. Particulars of this engagement, furnished by the captives, caused everybody to feel sorrowful and chagrined. September 26th—A sailor was fired on while playing ball, because he went too near the picket line; he was not hit. October 5th—Twenty officers attached to the U. S. gunboats Clifton and Sachem arrived in camp from Sabine Pass and were confined in separate quarters, not allowed to hold any conversation or communication with other prisoners for some time. October 27th—Four prisoners arrived, captured in Louisiana.

A total of four officers and eighteen men died at Camp Groce; ten or twelve were sailors. Ship Carpenter Morris, of the Harriet Lane, sixty years old, died July 19th. Lieutenant Ramsey, 175th N. Y., died October 11th; he was sick with consumption, but dysentery was the immediate cause of death. Lieutenant Hayes, 175th N. Y., was found dead in his bunk October 16th.

The following officers and men of the 42d died at Camp Groce, viz.:

August 1st—Private Dennis Dailey, Company D. He was a great favorite with sailors of the Morning Light, with whom he generally associated.

August 22d—Lieutenant Bartlett, Company I, at one o’clock A.M., of dysentery, after a short illness.

September 3d—Private E. F. Josselyn, Company D, in the afternoon, of dysentery, after a long illness.

September 9th—Surgeon Cummings, in the afternoon. He was in failing health for a month, and was unconscious for some days previous to his death. The burial took place next day with Masonic rites, attended by Federal and Confederate Freemasons. Lieutenant-Colonel Duganne conducted the ceremonies.

Private Parker, Company G, was left sick in Hempstead Hospital. He died December 14th, 1863.

The guard over the officers who marched from Camp Groce to Camp Ford was commanded by Captain Davis, who marched them sixteen to seventeen miles a day over the sandy and hilly roads. The march usually commenced at seven A.M. and ended for the day between two and three o’clock P.M. The weather was pleasant and cool nearly every day, but cold at night. They got caught in two rain-storms, and wet through. The officers arrived at Camp Ford about two o’clock P.M., December 22d, after a twelve days’ tramp.

At Camp Ford the prisoners already there, mostly Western men, had built log cabins and were quite comfortable under the circumstances. The so-called 42d mansion was built in a few days, with help and aid from two officers of the 19th Iowa who understood the way to construct log cabins. Within this cabin, before a roaring log fire, while rain, snow and hail reigned without, were passed the closing days of 1863. Snow blew into the cabin, wetting blankets through, and fell an inch deep upon the ground outside.

The first three months of 1864 were wearisome, with constant and conflicting rumors of parole or exchange, and occasional news of officers who had been exchanged, a subject of all-absorbing interest to everybody. No description of the life they led can afford an adequate idea of the torments to mind and body, their hopes and fears for the future, and constant struggle to make the best of their situation until a change came. Northern papers frequently found their way inside the stockade to be greedily devoured for news, as they were passed around from one to another. A newspaper from home was like a visiting angel. Southern papers were in camp every week. A tolerable correct idea of what was going on in the outside world, political and military, was sifted from these papers, aided by information obtained from Confederate officers.

To kill time the prisoners occupied themselves in repairs and improvements on quarters for business, and visits to brother officers, singing and dancing, for recreation. A violin, purchased by subscription for one hundred and ten dollars Confederate money, Captain May, 23d Conn., as violinist, and a banjo made in camp and played by Engineer R. W. Mars, of the gunboat Diana, accompanied by a flute manipulated by Captain Thomason, 176th N. Y., and a fife by E. J. Collins, made a select orchestra to furnish appropriate music for the dances. Gardens were started early in February, when corn, mustard, lettuce, watermelons, squashes, onions and cotton was planted. Corn and onions showed above ground early in March. A system of barter and exchange in various articles was carried on among the prisoners, affording a means to keep their wits at work if no money was made out of the transactions. A newspaper was published, The Old Flag, edited and printed by Captain May, the printing done with a pen. Editions were issued February 17th, March 1st and 13th, that afforded great interest to the camp. Only one copy was issued of each number, to be passed around, read and returned to the captain. It has yet to be recorded at what post, where Confederate prisoners were confined, did they show so much versatility in amusing themselves as was shown by Federal prisoners in all parts of the South.

The birthday of Washington, February 22d, was duly celebrated. All expenses were met by a subscription among the officers in confinement. Lieutenant-Colonel J. B. Leake, 20th Iowa, delivered an oration, followed by an original poem, written in camp by Lieutenant-Colonel Duganne. In the afternoon an election was held for Governor, Lieutenant-Governor, and Inspector of Insane Asylums of Camp Ford, to carry on a species of fun concocted at the expense of half-witted Sam Morton, a Kansas soldier. Sam was elected Governor, and then taken in a chair through the camp with great eclat. Fine singing by a glee club and a grand ball in the evening closed the celebration.

Pending the result of efforts constantly made to obtain a parole or exchange, attempts to escape were made at various times. Two officers of the 26th Indiana, Lieutenants Greene and Switzer, were missed at roll-call January 12th, and a pursuit made. The escape of these two officers, some two weeks before this, was known to a few comrades, who concealed their absence from roll-calls by answering for them. At last it was decided to let their escape become known. At roll-call their names were not answered, when a Confederate officer innocently asked: “Does any one know where Greene and Switzer are?” An answer was given, with a laugh, “Guess they have gone for a pair of shoes.” The two officers were afterwards heard from as having arrived in New Orleans after a walk of some three hundred miles, done in a month and two days. They gave newspaper men, for publication, a detailed account of their tramp, with names of parties who had helped them along. This published account came into Confederate hands, and was used as an excuse for persecuting those Union friends.

On a rainy night, March 24th, Colonel Rose and fourteen other officers escaped early in the evening, by sliding aside a stockade post. From a neglect to replace the post discovery of the escape soon followed, and an alarm at once sounded. Mounted men, with bloodhounds, were immediately on their track. Four men were brought back next day, recaptured after they had walked twenty miles, and nine more were retaken on the twenty-seventh. One man succeeded in making good his bold dash for liberty. This attempt to escape was contemplated for some time; those in the plot secretly prepared parched meal and dry beef to carry for food. Another attempt was in progress, suggested by reading in a paper of an escape by officers from Libby Prison, Richmond, Va., by the tunnel process. From the 42d cabin, it was calculated a tunnel fifty feet long would carry them outside of the stockade. It was a double cabin, one-half occupied by Captain May’s mess, also the editor’s sanctum of the Old Flag. A commencement was made March 21st, the earth taken out secreted underneath bunks and carried outside when an opportunity offered; the opening was covered by a bunk when work was suspended. Men in this plot had worked a hole twenty-one feet under ground March 24th, when the original stockade line was removed to enlarge the camp, and an order was received by Colonel Allen, the commandant, to shoot at sight any prisoner caught in attempting escape. These two facts caused the attempt to be abandoned.

Colonel Allen was an old engineer officer in the United States Army, and like all regular army officers disposed to treat his prisoners as men. This disposition to do all in his power to ameliorate their sufferings probably caused his removal May 27th, a Colonel Anderson assuming command of the post. The policy pursued by Anderson, or rather a drunken lieutenant-colonel under him who took charge of all matters appertaining to the prisoners, was in an opposite direction.

Camp Ford was blessed with good water and situated upon high ground, an improvement over Camp Groce. Yet the stockade interior was filthy, without any system of sinks or police of grounds. This was the fault of the prisoners, a lazy, careless, motley crowd, not disposed to take hold of such work. Colonel Allen left such matters to those inside the stockade. Officers who saw the necessity of a system in hygienic matters soon gave up in disgust the attempt to force an organization for this purpose. As is usual in such a collection of men, refusing to recognize any superior authority except their guards, it was each man for himself and the devil take the hindmost.

Among the imprisoned officers were several lieutenant-colonels and majors. Colonel Burrell was one of the three officers of his rank. As a matter of pride, to uphold the dignity of his commission, what many officers signally failed to do, Colonel Burrell was always scrupulously polite to Colonel Allen, never visited him except in full uniform, transacting all business with that officer in a business manner, and so gained his esteem and regard. Burrell maintained that the rules in force should be respected and obeyed—he would insist on their obeyance were he in command of such a camp—and by maintaining dignified relations with the commandant was enabled several times to secure a rescission of harsh orders issued by Colonel Allen, in consequence of foolish speeches and acts done by brainless fools in the stockade.

No medicines, no special accommodations nor post surgeon were provided at Camp Ford. Surgeons Sherfy, 1st Indiana, and Hershy, U. S. Colored Volunteers, did all in their power for the sick, and that could not be much. An old surgeon in the Confederate service, formerly of the U. S. regulars, would occasionally visit the stockade and render some service. To him Colonel Burrell owes his life, when threatened with an attack of typhoid fever.

The commandant’s wife, Mrs. Allen, was a visitor to the officers’ quarters at various times, frequently accompanied by other ladies. The good impression this lady made by her visits resulted in a poem, written by Lieutenant-Colonel Duganne, published in The Old Flag, issue No. 3, March 18th, 1864.

The arrival of captured prisoners to increase the inhabitants of this stockade town, taken from various soldiers’ diaries, were: January 22d—Captains Coulter and Torrey, 20th Iowa, captured at Arkansas Bay, Texas, December 19th, 1863. March 5th—Six enlisted men captured at Powder Horn, January 22d. March 30th—Between six and seven hundred prisoners arrived from Shreveport, where they were awaiting exchange. They were a hard-looking lot of human beings, many without shirts or shoes, with trousers torn, ragged, or hanging in shreds. Among them were Privates Morrill, O’Shaughnessy and McLaughlin, of the 42d. They left Shreveport March 26th. Frank Veazie was sick in a Shreveport hospital. He died the following May.

About sixteen hundred prisoners, captured at Pleasant Hill, La., arrived April 16th, 17th, 18th and 20th. To accommodate these hungry men all hands had to keep their cooking apparatus at work on corn meal until they were fed. The appearance these prisoners made could not have been equalled in Falstaff’s time. Confederate soldiers robbed them of clothing, sometimes with threats of violence if property wanted by these greedy men was not handed over for the asking. The prisoners did not seem to mind it, and laughingly said they would square accounts whenever the Confederates fell into their hands as prisoners of war. They thought it rather rough to be placed in a pen like a flock of sheep, without food or shelter. Still, nothing better could be expected, because the Confederates had no other safe place to guard their prisoners. When arrangements could be completed, they were made as comfortable as the limited means at hand would allow.

During May about eighteen hundred prisoners came in, thirteen hundred captured in Arkansas; June 6th, one hundred; and July 6th, another batch of one hundred and eighty prisoners from Banks’ army were brought in. The old prisoners commenced to think, from the continued arrivals of officers and men of the 19th Army Corps, perhaps the entire corps would eventually be captured.

Through May, June, and up to July 9th, it cannot be said the death rate was large, received as the men were in all conditions of health and sickness. Six privates died in May, and one was killed by a sentry; five died in June; five died July 1st.

With the prisoners were Chaplains Robb, 46th Indiana Vols., Hare, —th Iowa Vols., and McCulloch, 19th Kentucky Vols., who labored hard among the men to excite a religious sentiment, holding frequent prayer meetings, and administered the rites of baptism to several, among them Lieutenant Brown P. Stowell, 42d Mass., on May 22d. These religious services met with the approval of Colonel Allen, who was a devout Free Will Baptist.

Some talk was made about overpowering the guard, nearly one thousand men, composed of poor material. An insurmountable difficulty was to provide a store of food, for use when free, and a sufficient supply of arms and ammunition, for they were nearly three hundred miles from any safe place. Nothing was done, as it was useless to try it. Next to parole or exchange the idea of escape occupied the most attention. Naturally officers in command of guards were always on the lookout for anything tending towards preparations in that direction. In February about one hundred officers were drilled in the sabre exercise by Major Anthony, 2d R. I. Cavalry, for instruction and pleasure, using sticks in lieu of swords, but the post-commander summarily put a stop to it within a few days after these drills commenced.

Attempts to escape commenced again with fresh arrivals; five men got away at night June 9th, to be recaptured and returned next day. Several officers succeeded in making a break for freedom at night, July 2d, but were discovered and fired on by the guard. Nearly all of them were recaptured next day. Captain Reed, Missouri Vols., was made to stand bare-headed upon a stump near the guard-house for several hours in the hot sun, as punishment for his attempted escape.

Early in June rumors of parole and exchange again began to be circulated within the stockade. Confederate officers from Shreveport visited the prison camp more frequently than they had heretofore done, to make out lists and rolls of prisoners and time of capture. News brought by Colonel Allen and the tenor of letters received from surgeons, gone forward for exchange, raised a hope within the breasts of those long confined that there would not be a disappointment this time. When the chaplains, surgeons, and citizens not connected with the army, were paroled and started for Shreveport June 19th, hope grew into certainty. On the fifth of July, after what was termed a glorious Fourth-of-July celebration, the joyful news was brought in the stockade, by Colonel Burrell, that a paroling officer had arrived, and their day of deliverance was at hand.

Through this captivity letters from home came at long intervals, with news they were anxious to receive. Dates when letters were received by the 42d officers are as follows: March 12th, July 29th and August 26th, 1863; March 18th, June 10th, 13th and 23d, 1864. Letters received June 10th were for Captain Savage and Lieutenant Newcomb, dated February 28th and March 4th. Captain Proctor had letters from his father and wife dated May 12th and 23d, 1863, over a year old, as they were not delivered to him until June 13th, 1864. After men arrived from Banks’ army, men who belonged in Boston and vicinity made themselves known to Colonel Burrell and brother officers, some of whom had within a few months arrived from home and could give them tolerably late news from that section.

Clothing was furnished once by Confederate officers, at Hempstead, October 17th, 1863; from that time onward what the prisoners wore had to stand the wear and tear of time and use. Previous to July, in anticipation another winter would not be passed as prisoners, whoever had overcoats and extra clothing sold the garments for high prices in Confederate money, and thus obtained means to purchase extra supplies for their messes.

One thing should not be forgotten in connection with this long, tedious imprisonment: the love of country existing in every manly heart, despite his feeling at times the Government did neglect him. This patriotism was not the kind flaunted before audiences by spread-eagle political orators, all froth and no substance, but an honest, earnest, deep-seated love, ready to suffer for her cause at all times, resenting any flings or insults to its flag, giving voice to sentiments within them by singing national songs and celebrations of important days in her history.

July 7th and 8th were devoted to baking hard bread, for use on the march, and at last the prisoners, who were up at three o’clock in the morning preparing breakfast and getting their few “traps” ready, left the stockade to march for Shreveport, homeward bound. There were nine hundred and thirty officers and men, divided into one column of officers and two columns of enlisted men, with a kind and considerate Confederate cavalry guard, commanded by Major Smith and Captain Tucker. Guard and prisoners fared alike in food and slept in the open air at night: tents were not carried with them. Extreme hot weather prevailed, yet the prisoners managed to cover a respectable number of miles each day, crossing the Sabine River on the first day and sleeping upon its banks at night, with a record of twenty-one miles. The marching column reached Shreveport about noon on the thirteenth, without the loss of a man by death, having made nineteen miles July 10th, twenty-three miles on the eleventh, twenty-four miles on the twelfth, and sixteen miles on the thirteenth. Sick and worn-out men were sent by the Marshall and Shreveport Railroad on the twelfth, and this railroad also transported a portion of the prisoners on the thirteenth. About twenty officers hired a six-mule team for five hundred Confederate dollars, to carry them on the last day’s journey, and rode into camp in great style. Each morning the men were up between three and four o’clock, commenced the march within an hour after, plodding steadily along until eleven, when a rest was taken until two o’clock, then the march again resumed until evening.

At Mugginsville, one mile from Shreveport, the prisoners remained until July 16th, when they were sent on board steamers Osceola, General Hodges and B. L. Hodge, bound for Alexandria, where they arrived at dusk July 18th, above the dam built by Federals to save their naval vessels in April and May, 1864, and were disembarked to camp in woods by the river side until the twenty-first, when steamers were ready below the dam to carry them on to the journey’s end. Three men died July 18th, and were buried near a spot upon the banks where lay the remains of several Federal sailors.

All hands were up at daylight July 21st. At seven o’clock they marched two miles to Alexandria, crossed Red River on a pontoon bridge and embarked upon steamers Champion No. 3 and Relf, bound for the mouth of Red River. An extract from a diary, kept by an officer of the 42d Mass., is here given:

“July 22d, 1864—We started about noon yesterday, and ran all night; arrived at the mouth of Red River as the sun was about one and one-half hours high, and were brought to a stop by a shot from one of our gunboats on blockading service. None of our transports were there, and we began to have some misgivings. All eyes were turned down the Mississippi, with anxiety depicted on many faces. About one o’clock smoke was seen coming up river, indicating a river steamer was on her way, and the prisoners began to cheer. Soon, sure enough, there was our flag flying within hailing distance, but we are still prisoners; perhaps no exchange after all, but be turned back to the tender care of “Johnny Reb” again. But no, it proves to be the Nebraska with rebel prisoners on board. We landed and went aboard the Nebraska as soon as we could, and gave six rousing cheers for the ‘Old Flag.’ Stop and look at the comparison of the two squads of prisoners. Those coming from our lines for the Confederacy are loaded down with clothing, boots and trunks. Our men are bare-footed, shirtless and hatless; but I thank God I am once more a free man. None but those that have been placed in like circumstances can appreciate the change. We were given a feast on the Nebraska. We had plenty of coffee, real ‘Lincoln’ coffee, no parched rye; and butter! real butter, and bakers’ bread! Well! I have had some good dinners before and since then, but that feast took the cake. Good-by to corn-dodger and bull-beef. It all seemed like a dream. The boys were up until about three o’clock next morning, singing and enjoying themselves.”

The exchanged officers of the 42d Regiment arrived in New Orleans at midnight July 23d, where they remained until the thirty-first, receiving two months’ pay from a paymaster to meet their immediate wants. None of the officers got back their swords they were entitled to retain by the terms of surrender. The swords were taken from them by a provost-marshal at Houston, properly marked with each man’s name, with an understanding they would be given up when each officer was paroled or exchanged. It is needless to say they were soon appropriated by any Confederate officer who was in need of one.

Taking passage upon the steamer Matanzas, July 31st, bound for New York, after a pleasant run of seven days they were once more within easy communication with families and friends, who met them on arrival in Boston, August 9th, via the Fall River route from New York. All were in tolerable fair health except Lieutenant Stowell, who was in bad condition, and Lieutenant Cowdin, sick with chronic diarrhœa. An escort in waiting, with music, consisting of past and present officers and men of the 42d Regiment and the Boston Independent Fusileers, escorted their guests to the American House, where breakfast was served and a cordial welcome tendered by His Honor Mayor Lincoln and the military committee of the City Government.

Governor Andrew could not be present, and sent the following letter:

“Commonwealth of Massachusetts, “Executive Department, “Boston, August 9th, 1864.

“Colonel W. W. Clapp, Jr., &c., &c.:

“My dear Colonel,—I have this moment received your note of invitation to attend the breakfast at ten o’clock this morning, given in welcome of Colonel Burrell and his associates. The long captivity of those brave and patriotic men has earned for them every consideration, even if their qualities as soldiers had been less conspicuous than they are. In all respects, however, deserving gratitude and honor, and deserving all the sympathy of true and manly hearts for what they have suffered in our common cause, I shall, though absent in person, unite in heart with your expressions of grateful applause and welcome for these honored guests. My return to headquarters yesterday, after a valuable work of service elsewhere, leaves me, for the present, not an hour which during the daytime I can withdraw from the accumulated work which brooks no delay.

“I am faithfully your friend and servant, “JOHN A. ANDREW.”

With repeated disasters attending expeditions to Western Louisiana and Texas, that are a part of history, and failures attending every attempt to permanently occupy such territory, the following remarks at this breakfast, made by Colonel Burrell, are not without reason. He said: “I hardly know what to say. I thank your Honor for your kind expression of welcome. We have suffered long, but I do not know as we have done more than our duty. I can hardly be expected to make a speech, for I have been living a half-civilized life among half-civilized people for nearly the last two years. I know our friends at home were doing all in their power to obtain our release, but fate has seemed to be always against us. For my soldiers and officers I can say that they have behaved with courage and cheerfulness; their fortitude has been worthy of men of Massachusetts. They have behaved with credit to their state and to their country. I come home prouder than ever of my native city. As soon as we are somewhat recovered from our fatigues and sufferings, we will be ready to put on the harness and return to the field again.

“I have enjoyed much opportunity of communication with men from all parts of the Southern Confederacy, and I believe that you entertain an erroneous opinion of them. You believe that there exists among the masses an extended Union sentiment. It is not so. They go into this war with all their heart and soul. The little Union feeling among the class of poor whites amounts to nothing. They are opposed to us, man, woman and child. They are fighting with the spirit of ’76, for their rights, homes, liberties. They put up with every privation to sustain their army—and every man is in the army. The quicker we understand this the better for us. I do not think we shall accomplish much until we take hold of the work in earnest.

“In the section where I have been the enemy is three times stronger than they were two years ago. Now an army of 40,000 men cannot penetrate the country one hundred miles. They have an army of 40,000 men. They carry no equipage—they sling their blankets with a bit of cotton rope, and are all ready for an expedition. We must take our blankets on our shoulders—we cannot fight with army trains. I repeat, in order to carry on this war to a successful termination, we must fight them on their own ground and fight them in earnest.”

After this breakfast Colonel Burrell and his officers were escorted to Roxbury by the Roxbury Artillery Association, where another reception was given them by their townspeople.

August 10th the officers met at the Parker House, proceeded to the State House and reported to Adjutant-General Schouler, then to Major Clarke, U. S. Army, to receive their final pay, then to Major McCafferty, U. S. mustering-officer, and were mustered out of service, after being in “Uncle Sam’s” employ about twenty-one months—eighteen months and twenty-one days of the time as prisoners of war.

CHAPTER XIX.
In Service for One Hundred Days—Organization—Readville—Off for Washington—At Alexandria—At Great Falls—Return Home.

A scare existed in Washington, caused by Confederate operations under General Jubal Early, who threatened an invasion of Pennsylvania in order to mask a contemplated dash on Baltimore and Washington.[19]

[19] Governor Andrew was in Washington at the time, and telegraphed his adjutant-general (received July 5th) as follows: “I have arranged with the Secretary of War that men who volunteer for one hundred days’ service, as requested by him to-day, shall be exempted from any draft that may be ordered during such hundred days’ service, not from any future draft, but only from such as may be ordered during the term of hundred days for which they are asked. I direct you, at request of Secretary, to issue an order calling for four thousand one-hundred-days’ infantry, on the terms above mentioned. The details in connection with the project will not differ materially, otherwise, from those heretofore prescribed in like cases. I shall have another consultation to-morrow. Have sent home Peirce to-night.” General Orders No. 24, calling for five thousand hundred-day men, was issued July 6th, 1864, by Adjutant-General Schouler.

Adjutant-General Schouler casually informed Adjutant Davis, whom he met on the street, a call had been received from Washington to send troops immediately for one hundred days’ service. The adjutant had kept up a correspondence with all of the old line officers, for an ultimate purpose of again calling the regiment together when Colonel Burrell was exchanged. Davis mentioned this fact to General Schouler, who at once advanced the idea of again going into service and advised an attempt to do so. The old line officers were consulted, and, as the idea was favored by a majority of them, official orders were issued to go into camp at Readville, Mass., July 18th, 1864.

The following companies were designated to compose the regiment:

Company A, Captain Isaac Scott, of Roxbury; Company B, Captain Benjamin C. Tinkham, of Medway; Company C, Captain Isaac B. White, of Boston; Company D, Captain Samuel A. Waterman, of Roxbury; Company E, Captain Augustus Ford, of Worcester; Company F, Captain Samuel S. Eddy, of Worcester; Company G, Captain Alanson H. Ward, of Worcester; Company H, Captain F. M. Prouty, of Worcester; Company I, Captain James T. Stevens, of Dorchester; Company K, Captain Benjamin R. Wales, of Dorchester.

Active measures were at once instituted to clothe, arm with Enfield rifles, and equip these companies, to be in readiness for a quick departure. Complete uniforms, with equipments, were issued at Readville. Many companies went into camp several days previous to July 18th, gaining recruits every day until ready for muster in for service. Captain Scott failed to recruit more than thirty men. Captain Prouty failed to recruit his company, although at one time it promised well; from some cause his men scattered to other companies or went home. Companies commanded by Captains French and Stewart, already mustered into service, were assigned to the regiment as Companies A and H.

The first regimental morning report was made up July 20th, and showed a strength of thirty-five officers, seven hundred and thirty-eight enlisted men, present and absent. The regiment was ready for marching orders July 23d, with the following strength:

		Officers.	Enlisted men.	Mustered in.
Field and Staff,		5	3	July	22d.
Company	A,	3	95	“	14th.
“	B,	3	81	“	22d.
“	C,	3	93	“	14th.
“	D,	3	97	“	20th.
“	E,	3	90	“	22d.
“	F,	3	98	“	15th.
“	G,	3	87	“	21st.
“	H,	3	88	“	16th.
“	I,	3	84	“	19th.
“	K,	3	90	“	18th.
	Total,	35	906

The roster of the regiment was as follows:

Colonel—Isaac S. Burrell.

Lieutenant-Colonel—Joseph Stedman.

Major—Frederick G. Stiles.

Adjutant—Charles A. Davis.

Quartermaster—Alonzo I. Hodsdon.

Surgeon—Albert B. Robinson.

Sergeant-Major—Jediah P. Jordan.

Quartermaster-Sergeant—Charles E. Noyes.

Commissary-Sergeant—Augustus C. Jordan.

Hospital-Steward—Robert White, Jr.

Principal-Musician—Thomas Bowe.

Company A—Captain, Warren French; Lieutenants, Charles W. Baxter and Joseph M. Thomas.

Company B—Captain, Benjamin C. Tinkham; Lieutenants, George W. Ballou and George E. Fuller.

Company C—Captain, Isaac B. White; Lieutenants, Joseph Sanderson, Jr., and David C. Smith.

Company D—Captain, Samuel A. Waterman; Lieutenants, George H. Bates and Almon D. Hodges, Jr.

Company E—Captain, Augustus Ford; Lieutenants, James Conner and Frank H. Cook.

Company F—Captain, Samuel S. Eddy; Lieutenants, Henry J. Jennings and Edward I. Galvin.

Company G—Captain, Alanson H. Ward; Lieutenants, Moses A. Aldrich and E. Lincoln Shattuck.

Company H—Captain, George M. Stewart; Lieutenants, Julius M. Lyon and Joseph T. Spear.

Company I—Captain, James T. Stevens; Lieutenants, Edward Merrill, Jr., and Charles A. Arnold.

Company K—Captain, Benjamin R. Wales; Lieutenants, Alfred G. Gray and Charles P. Hawley.

Officers who resigned and did not accompany the regiment on this second term were: Quartermaster Burrell, Surgeons Hitchcock and Heintzelman, Chaplain Sanger, Sergeant-Major Bosson, Commissary-Sergeant Courtney, Hospital-Steward Wood, Principal-Musician Neuert.[20] Of the thirty line officers who served during this second term, Captains Tinkham, White, Waterman and Ford, Lieutenants Sanderson, Ballou, Smith, Cook and Merrill were with the regiment in 1862 and 1863. Colonel Burrell arrived home, from Texas, August 9th, was mustered in for this second term August 10th, and reported at Alexandria September 1st.

[20] Neuert was known as “Dick.” By mistake he was enlisted and borne on the rolls as Richard A. Neuert. Young in years, he never thought of correcting the error, and retained the name when he reënlisted in the 11th Battery as a bugler. His right name was Charles A. Neuert.

The Dorchester Cornet Band volunteered to enlist and become the regimental band. The members were: Leader, Thomas Bowe; Privates Conrad H. Gurlack, Company A; Perham Orcutt, Company B; Horace A. Allyn, George Burleigh, William A. Cowles, John W. Capen, Nathaniel Clark, Lewis Eddy, Edward Lovejoy, Fred. H. Macintosh, Henry B. Sargent, Phillip Sawyer, Andrew J. Wheeler, of Company D; Wells F. Johnson, Company H; Jesse K. Webster, Company I; William A. Cobb and Edward H. Marshall, of Company K.

Two men deserted at Readville, viz.: Private Frederick D. Goodwin, Company C, July 15th; Private Robert Bryden, Company D, July 22d.

The rank and file were a true representative body of Massachusetts citizen soldiery. Three-fourths of the men were born in the State; seventy men were foreign born. Men from a great variety of professions and trades enlisted. About one-half of the regiment were as follows: one hundred and seventy-six salesmen, book-keepers and clerks; twenty-seven students; one hundred and twenty farmers; one hundred and twenty-four journeymen boot and shoe workmen; twenty-seven mill operatives.

The old regimental colors were received in camp July 23d, and under orders to take transports for Washington, promptly at five o’clock A.M., July 24th, the regiment left Readville by special train for Boston, and marched down State Street, about half-past six o’clock, to Battery Wharf, where Companies C, D and E, two hundred and seventy-one men, under command of Major Stiles, embarked on steamer Montauk. The other companies and the band, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, embarked on steamer McClellan. At nine o’clock both steamers sailed for Washington, and arrived there at noon July 28th, after a good passage, without an important event occurring. This landing the regiment in Washington in ten days after being ordered into camp to recruit and organize can be called quick work.

Reporting to General Augur, commanding Department of Washington, the regiment was sent to Brigadier-General Slough, Military Governor of Alexandria, who ordered it into camp on Shuter’s Hill, near Fort Ellsworth, about one mile from the city. On the morning of July 29th, after breakfast was eaten at the Soldiers’ Rest, in Alexandria, the regiment marched to the ground assigned and occupied log huts, built by other troops when stationed on this hill. In Slough’s command were Battery H, Indiana Light Artillery, one battalion First District Columbia Volunteers, the Second District Columbia Volunteers, the Fifth Wisconsin Volunteers, the Twelfth Regiment Veteran Reserve Corps and the Forty-Second Massachusetts Volunteers. These troops were soon organized into a provisional-brigade and attached to the Twenty-Second Army Corps.

Details for guards and for provost duty were immediately ordered by General Slough, as follows: July 29th—Two officers and one hundred and fifteen men for provost duty. July 31st—Eighteen men every day for patrol duty in Alexandria; thirty-one men to relieve a detachment Veteran Reserve Corps at Sickel’s Barracks Hospital. July 30th—Lieutenants Sanderson, Company C, and Spear, Company H, were detached for duty at headquarters provost-marshal-general, Defences South of Potomac.

At the close of July there was present for duty thirty-two officers and eight hundred and seventy-three men; twenty-eight men sick; three officers and six men absent.

During August the officers and men were kept busy at drill, on guard, provost and patrol duty, which inured them to endure fatigue and become acquainted with the tedious side of a soldier’s life. Train-guards were furnished for trains on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, to protect working and construction parties in constant danger of attacks from guerrillas and obstructions placed upon the track to delay trains; at Fairfax Station, August 15th, the enemy greased the rails, and a train could not proceed—the enemy decamped, not waiting for the train-guard to get a blow at them. Details were sent to Burke’s Station and other places for logs, used to build additional huts for the men. What duty was done in August is shown by the following details, ordered by General Slough:

August 2d—One hundred and thirteen men detailed each day for grand-guard line.

August 6th—Two officers and one hundred and fifty-seven men relieved the Twelfth Regiment Veteran Reserve Corps, in Alexandria; next day this detachment was relieved by the Second Regiment District Columbia Volunteers.

August 7th—A regimental camp guard of fifty men was established.

August 7th—Seventy-five men for train-guards to Fairfax Station, detailed each day until the twenty-third.

August 4th—Seventeen men were detached for permanent duty on the military police in Alexandria.

August 28th—Seventy-five men were detached for duty as hospital attendants in the general hospitals in Alexandria. The hospitals were full of patients.

Details for August were:

4th—Sergeant Alfred Davenport, Company K, clerk at headquarters Department Washington, Twenty-Second Army Corps. Relieved October 29th.

For duty at general court-martial rooms in Alexandria: 1st—Private George S. Partridge, Company B, orderly. 3d—Corporal Thomas J. Rooney, Company B, clerk. 4th—Corporal Edwin H. Holbrook, Company B, clerk.—Private Alfred Noon, Company H, orderly.—Private Richard M. Sabin, Company G, orderly. 9th—Private Ellery C. Bartlett, Company K, clerk. 13th—Private J. H. S. Pearson, Company C, clerk.

On detached service at headquarters provost-marshal-general: 1st—Private H. W. Tolman, Company A, orderly. 2d—Private William S. French, Company F, orderly.—Private Alvin S. Pratt, Company F, orderly. 10th—Private Jno. R. Graham, Company A, orderly. 24th—Private William G. Kidder, Company C, clerk.—Corporal George Dunbar, Company D, clerk.

On detached service at headquarters military governor: 4th—Private Herbert W. Hitchcock, Company H, orderly. 5th—Private Fred. S. Dickinson, Company G, orderly. 11th—Private Hiram E. Smith, Company H, clerk. 13th—Private J. Clark Reed, Company C, clerk.—Private Thomas J. McKay, Company F, clerk.

The officers on detached service were: 2d—Lieutenant Shattuck, Company G, on permanent duty with city patrol in Alexandria. 9th—Lieutenant Hodges, Company D, on permanent duty at headquarters provost-marshal-general. 10th—Lieutenant Thomas, Company A, on permanent duty in command of guard at Hunting Creek Bridge block-house, under the orders of provost-marshal-general. 12th—Lieutenant Ballou, Company B, was detailed for permanent duty with the military police of Alexandria, to relieve Lieutenant Shattuck, who was not active and experienced enough to suit General Slough.

The officers detailed for general court-martial duty were: Captains Tinkham, Waterman, Ford and Ward, from July 31st; Major Stiles, Lieutenants Baxter and Jennings, from August 6th.

The enlisted men on detailed daily duty were: Private W. A. G. Hooton, Company A, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Mathias F. Chaffin, Company E, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Albert H. Newhall, Company E, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Henry C. Chenery, Company F, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Seth Albee, Company E, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Simon C. Spear, Company C, nurse at regimental hospital; Private Ezra Abbott, Company A, chief wagoner; Private George A. Harwood, Company B, wagoner; Private Thomas Belton, Company C, wagoner; Private Elma H. French, Company F, wagoner; Private Samuel W. Whittemore, Company I, wagoner; Private George W. Abbott, Company I, wagoner; Privates Oliver C. Andrews, Alonzo D. Crockett, Mark Heathcote, of Company G, as a permanent guard at the reservoir in rear of camp near Fort Ellsworth, from August 6th; Privates William G. Kidder, Company C, James Allen, Company E, Hermion J. Gilbert and Charles E. Chase, of Company F, orderlies at regimental headquarters; Private Henry R. Gilmore, Company F, acting drum-major.

It was necessary to discipline one man in August—Private Samuel Young, Company E, for firing his musket without permission or orders. He had to carry a forty-pound log of wood tied to his back for a stated number of hours each day for two days.

At the close of August there was present for duty: twenty-nine officers, seven hundred and forty-eight men; one officer, forty-two men sick. Absent: five officers, one hundred and seven men on detached service, four men sick, two men in arrest.

Duty in September was about the same as in August, the regiment constantly furnishing details of men for grand-guard and other guards. Drills were maintained with what few men were in camp and some progress made in this direction, but all efforts to advance the regiment in drill could not be satisfactory to officers in command, because of this absence of men each day.

September 14th—Company G, Captain Ward, went on duty as a permanent guard at the Soldiers’ Rest in Alexandria.

September 16th—All troops in the command were paraded to witness an execution of a private Fourth Maryland Volunteers, shot for desertion, at eleven A.M., in the open field northwest of Sickel Barracks Hospital. The negroes in and around Alexandria made a gala occasion of the affair, with tents pitched near the spot for sales of cake, pies, lemonade, etc. So far as appearances went the man to be shot, a thick-set fellow, with heavy, black whiskers, was more indifferent to his fate than the soldiers formed to occupy three sides of a square, obliged to be unwilling witnesses. On the open side were gathered a curious crowd of colored people. The condemned man was marched upon the ground, a band playing a dirge. He was followed by a faithful Newfoundland dog, who had to be taken away when his master took position in front of his coffin, face to the firing party. In a speech he confessed to being a professional bounty-jumper, worth at that moment near twenty thousand dollars, the proceeds of his work in jumping sixteen bounties. When the detail of soldiers fired upon him he fell lengthwise upon his coffin. The troops were then filed past him, and had just commenced the movement when signs of life were shown, necessitating a second file of men to be ordered up and put another volley into him.

At nine o’clock P.M., September 22d, orders were received to march four companies at once to Great Falls, on the Potomac, above Washington, and relieve the Eighty-Fourth N. Y. S. V. Militia, on picket duty for protection of the water works. This order came from headquarters Department Washington, and urged promptness in its execution. A guide was also sent to pilot the detachment. Companies B, C, D and E, with enough detailed men to fill up the ranks, with three days’ rations, and forty rounds of ammunition in the boxes, were at once started on a march of about twenty-five miles, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman. This march was not made in a manner creditable to the regiment. At first it was believed a fight was in progress or imminent, and while such belief lasted the men should have been kept well in hand to be of any use. The facts are: a halt was made about one o’clock A.M., and the men slept on the ground until after daylight, and then straggled into Great Falls during the afternoon and evening in a manner not suggestive of a well-conducted march. Fortunately no fight took place, and no harm resulted. Officers and men of this Eighty-Fourth New York (an Irish regiment) were found loitering around a tavern, more or less under the effects of liquor. This tavern was kept by a Mr. Jackson, brother to the Jackson who killed Colonel Ellsworth in Alexandria at the commencement of hostilities.

Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman reported on the twenty-fourth that so far as he could ascertain the duty at Great Falls would be to take care of themselves as well as they could, to keep a few pickets out on the roads leading to his camp, with a few men on the canal to prevent smuggling. The colonel Eighty-Fourth New York said he never had any orders, and acted as his judgment dictated in all matters at the post; he never made any reports to any one, and had been visited by a staff-officer but once. Stedman also reported the place extremely unhealthy, with chills and fever a prevailing complaint. Stedman’s strength was then three hundred and fifty-six men. The Eighty-Fourth numbered six hundred and fifty men, and did have, at one time, two hundred and fifty men sick.

Stedman wrote Colonel Burrell, on the twenty-fifth, as follows: “Captain Stewart has arrived, and I learn that arrangements have been made for four companies to remain here permanently, and that the balance of the men belonging to these four companies are soon to be sent here. Allow me to inquire if the balance of the officers have been thought of—viz., Lieutenant Sanderson, Company C, Lieutenant Ballou, Company B, and Lieutenant Hodges, Company D? I cannot get along without the full complement of officers for these companies, and I trust they will be relieved at once and ordered to report to me at this post. I shall be obliged to have one for adjutant and one for quartermaster, thus leaving me only ten others for duty; hence the necessity of these officers above named being sent.

“We shall have to secure some transportation here, but as yet I do not know what arrangements we can make for this necessity. We have a post-commissary here, but have to go eleven miles for soft bread. The nearest post-quartermaster is six miles away, at Muddy Branch. After a few days we can make the men quite comfortable, but the place is not a very agreeable one to be in.”

Company C, Captain White, was sent to Orcutt’s Cross Roads, three miles away, September 30th, where was stored a quantity of quartermaster’s property. Guerrillas were operating in the vicinity. A stockade was set on fire and destroyed by them, and an attempt made to blow up the aqueduct, frustrated by tavern-keeper Jackson, who was well known to the Confederates and on good terms with them. General Sheridan, by his operations in the Shenandoah Valley, caused a lull in the fun carried on by these guerrillas, so that the Forty-Second Massachusetts detachment did not have much to do beyond picket and guard duty.

Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman remained at Great Falls until October 15th, when he was ordered back to his regiment with three companies. Captain Tinkham, with Company B, was left at the post. A suggestion from Colonel Burrell, October 18th, to build a stockade, as the position invited an attack, brought the following reply:

“Headquarters Company B, 42d Mass. Vols.,
“Great Falls, Md., October 19th, 1864.

“Colonel,—I received your dispatch of the eighteenth, for which I am very grateful. My company is small, and what men I have are getting sick very fast, so that I have not men enough to carry out your advice. However, I will do the best I can, and shall not leave here until I know what I leave for. There are several of my company still in Alexandria, whom I wish could be sent to me. Would like to have General Slough informed of my situation.

“Very respectfully yours, “B. C. TINKHAM, “Captain commanding post.”

The enemy began to make trouble immediately after the three companies left. Guerrillas would stop canal boats, untie the horses and make off with them, until this nuisance was partly abated by the use of old, worn-out mules that did not present such temptation. The canal traffic was seriously interrupted, and caused Captain Tinkham to picket the canal for two miles, until ordered back to his regiment October 28th. Pennsylvania troops relieved Company B, and a short time after were attacked by the enemy.

Cases for discipline in September were as follows: 1st—Private Martin Monighan, Company E, for firing his musket without permission, was sentenced to carry a forty-pound log of wood tied to his back for a stated number of hours each day for three days. 17th—Corporal Pond, Company B, and three privates on duty with him in Alexandria, were sent to that city, by orders from General Slough, to serve sentences for neglect of duty. 27th—Private Elisha Atwood, Company A, was sent to Alexandria for confinement in the slave pen, for neglect of duty. 30th—Corporal William Bacon, Company A, was reduced to the ranks for intoxication, by regimental Special Orders No. 78.

This is not a bad record for a raw regiment of short-term men. A practice had been in vogue for captains to assume the power to order punishment of men in their companies guilty of trifling indiscretions. Captain French was noted for this stretch of power. This was stopped by the colonel on assuming command. He maintained that no man should be punished without a hearing.

Details in September were as follows:

On detached service at headquarters military governor: 6th—Private Sidney W. Knowles, Company C, clerk. 20th—Corporal John Stetson, Jr., Company K, clerk.—Private Herbert W. Fay, Company F, clerk.—Private Edward S. Averill, Company B, clerk. 22d—Private Frederick A. Clark, Company K, clerk.—Private Christopher F. Snelling, Company K, clerk.

On detached service at general court-martial rooms in Alexandria: 1st—Private Ansel F. Temple, Company I, clerk. 13th—Private Davis W. Howard, Company I, clerk.—Private Edward L. Harvey, Company B, clerk.—Private Benjamin W. Kenyon, Company E, clerk.—Private James L. Martin, Company C, clerk.—Private Arthur E. Hotchkiss, Company B, clerk.—Private William L. Gage, Company I, clerk.—Private George E. Sparr, Company H, orderly. 14th—Private Charles Curtis, Company D, clerk.

On detailed duty with the regiment: 7th—Corporal James L. Prouty, Company D, clerk at headquarters. 14th—Privates W. F. Adams, W. H. S. Ritchie, George E. Buttrick, of Company A, were placed on permanent guard at the reservoir, relieving Privates Edgerton, Heathcote and Andrews, of Company G. 16th—Private George L. Simpson, Company F, hospital attendant. 21st—Private George W. Brooks, Company K, hospital attendant. 24th—Private Albert S. Barpee, Company E, hospital attendant. 29th—Private Ezra K. Garvin, Company F, with quartermaster.

Officers on detached service in September were: Lieutenants Sanderson and Spear on permanent duty with grand-guard, a line of sentinels stationed between the Forty-Second camp and Alexandria. Lieutenants Hodges and Ballou on permanent duty with provost-marshal-general. Lieutenant Thomas with a permanent guard at Hunting Creek Bridge, where an artillery block-house was built. Lieutenant Hawley was detached on mounted patrol service, in answer to a request from General Slough for an experienced cavalry-officer. Captain Ward, Lieutenants Aldrich and Shattuck, Company G, on guard at Soldier’s Rest since September 14th. On detached service at Great Falls were Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, Captains Tinkham, White, Waterman and Ford, Lieutenants Fuller, Smith, Bates, Conner and Cook. Lieutenant Galvin was absent in Philadelphia on sick leave.

At the close of September there was present for duty: seventeen officers, three hundred and seventy-eight men; twenty-six men sick. Absent: eighteen officers, four hundred and sixty men on detached service; one officer, twenty-two men sick; three men in arrest.

There was no chance for any camp fun in October, for officers and men were constantly on duty, day and night, in obedience to orders for guards, patrols and pickets, that came thick and fast. Details of men were called for by mounted orderlies, with verbal orders, at all hours of the day and night, in addition to details mentioned later on. Adjutant Davis, not in good health, manfully stood to his duty in exceptionally trying circumstances. To fill these constant requisitions from among grumbling men in a raw regiment, already overworked, was not an easy matter. To do so, men who just reported in camp from some long tour of guard or patrol service were obliged to again depart from camp, swearing like troopers, on a like service. After four companies left for Great Falls, members of the band were made to resume duty in the ranks and go on the regular camp guard; at one time not relieved for sixteen days, men were so scarce and the difficulty so great to comply with these orders.

Duty done by the regiment, required by written orders, was: September 29th and 30th—One officer and forty men sent to guard stores to Fairfax Station. October 2d—One officer and fifty men as train-guard on Orange and Alexandria Railroad. October 2d—Captain Ward, with fifty men, to guard a telegraph construction party running a line of wire from Manassas or Warrenton Junction, on the Manassas Gap Railroad. Captain Ward and his men had a skirmish with the enemy’s cavalry, on the fourth, near Gainesville, and drove them back without loss. October 3d—One officer and fifty men, with detachments First and Second D. C. Volunteers, as guard for a construction train on Orange and Alexandria Railroad. October 4th—One officer and forty men on same service. October 5th—One officer and fifty men on same service. October 5th—Seven men as permanent guard at coal wharf. October 6th—One officer and twenty-five men to guard a special train. October 12th—One officer and thirty picked men on duty for three days with mounted patrols and pickets, to be relieved every three days. This order was in force until October 27th. October 13th—One officer and twenty-five men for train-guard. October 17th—Four officers and one hundred men, with two days’ rations, were sent every day, until October 27th, for train-guards. Of this detail two officers and fifty men went on duty at 3.45 A.M., and two officers and fifty men at ten A.M.

These details were in addition to the regular camp-guard, men for grand-guard duty and men for the pickets stationed outside the grand-guard line. Nearly all the trains were freighted with supplies for General Sheridan, after communication with him was opened. Every two or three miles along the railroad were guard-stations, in block-houses, on account of the guerrillas who infested the line of road. None of the Forty-Second detachments had a chance to test their mettle with the enemy, except the slight skirmish by Captain Ward’s men. At Rectortown one train came along just in time to allow the Forty-Second guard to help get a cavalry-post out of an unpleasant position; the enemy retreated without a fight.

Details in October for daily duty with the regiment were: 1st—Private Peter Broso, Company F, on duty with quartermaster. 1st—Private A. W. Mitchell, Company A, orderly at headquarters. 1st—Private Edwin H. Alger, Company D, as wagoner.

One case for discipline occurred: Corporal Albert F. Burnham, Company A, was reduced to the ranks October 24th, for leaving camp without leave. On an appeal for a hearing, made by Burnham, an inquiry was held in his case by officers detailed for the purpose. They justified the degradation.

The officers detailed on court-martial duty in September were: Lieutenant-Colonel Stedman, Captains French, Eddy, Stewart, Stevens and Wales, and Lieutenant Gray. Every captain in the regiment, except White, did service on general court-martial duty. Major Stiles was constantly on general court-martial duty by details of August 6th and September 20th, and not relieved until October 15th, when the following order was issued:

“Headquarters Military Governor,
“Alexandria, Va., October 15th, 1864.

“General Orders No. 84.

“1—The general court-martial convened by paragraph 2, General Orders No. 57, headquarters Military Governor, Alexandria, Va., dated September 20th, 1864, of which Major Frederick G. Stiles, Forty-Second Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, is president, is hereby dissolved.

“2—This court has since its first organization (August 8th, 1864), disposed of over six hundred cases, and the general commanding desires to compliment the members composing it for the energetic, faithful and satisfactory manner in which they have transacted the business referred to them.

“By command of

“BRIGADIER-GENERAL SLOUGH, “W. M. Gwynne, “Captain, and A. A. A. General.”

At the close of October there was present for duty (all officers and men were relieved from detached or detailed service) thirty-five officers, seven hundred and ninety-nine men; one officer, seventy-five men sick. Absent: nine men sick in hospitals.

The term of service expired October 29th. A request was made for transportation via Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York and Boston to place of muster out, instead of returning home by a sea voyage. The regiment vacated camp and quartered in the Soldier’s Rest, Alexandria, October 28th, until relieved from duty in the command. This was on Sunday, October 30th, after a review by General Slough. Monday morning, thirty-first, the regiment marched to Washington, and was received by President Lincoln in front of the White House at nine o’clock. Cheers from the men, a few remarks by the President, and then the march was resumed to the depot to take cars en-route home, arriving in Boston late on Thursday evening, November 3d, and quartered in Faneuil Hall. After breakfast next morning the regiment marched to Boston Common and was there dismissed, to assemble on Friday, November 11th, for muster out of service.[21]

[21] Before dismissal on Boston Common, Governor Andrew requested Colonel Burrell to take the telegraphic address of every officer, and instruct his officers and men (the men retained their arms until mustered out of service) to hold themselves in readiness for further service. The Governor telegraphed to New York he had a reliable regiment, just arrived home, at the service of the military authorities, if wanted to preserve order. No further service was required.

This journey home was full of discomfort for those officers who did their duty. It was a time of great political excitement in New York City. On this account the regiment retained its arms, and twenty rounds of ammunition was in each cartridge-box. In New York the regiment remained at the Battery all day, and marched up Broadway about five P.M. Crowds of people lined the street and cheered alternately for Lincoln and McClellan, the men answering these cheers impartially to avoid trouble. While in Forty-Second Street, where the men remained until late next morning, when a train was made up to proceed on to Boston, there was bad behaviour by various men of the regiment, who became drunk and disorderly. Some of these men fired their muskets, which, coupled with a fire that broke out in the vicinity, was sufficient to cause considerable alarm among people who resided near. Much blame is attachable to officers for their lukewarm endeavors to stop this unsoldierlike conduct.

About one hundred sick men were brought home, some of whom ought not to have left Alexandria, but they were anxious to go home with their comrades. To properly look out for these men was no easy matter. A delay of several hours occurred in Baltimore before transportation across the city could be found for the sick, Colonel Burrell positively refusing to move his regiment and leave them to follow after, as he was advised to do by some of his officers. Orders were given that in case any sick man was obliged to be left at any place en-route, one man was to be detailed to remain with him.

At Alexandria the aqueduct was out of order, and well-water was used for drinking purposes; but so bad was this water, a limited quantity of beer was allowed to be sold in camp. Train-guards, hurriedly called for and immediately sent away, had no time to fill haversacks with ample rations, often obliged to start with hard bread as their chief eatable. Of course, this had an effect on the men, a large proportion being under twenty-five years of age, many of them under twenty years, who did not have the advantage of a few months in a camp of instruction and get well seasoned to a soldier’s life before they were called upon to endure the arduous and exacting service they saw in Virginia.[22] During the last weeks in September and through October there was an average of fifty men sick in camp, and forty men absent sick in Alexandria hospitals.

[22] The colonel called the attention of General Slough to the fact that his regiment was overworked, and flesh and blood could not stand the strain without some rest, which the general admitted, but claimed he could rely on the Massachusetts men, while some raw Pennsylvania men in his command (there were several full regiments just arrived), were not reliable.

The regimental hospital tent, of limited accommodations, was always full, and all surplus sick men who required hospital care were sent to Alexandria. The weather was favorable in August and September; October was stormy, and nights cold.

The regiment lost sixteen men by death during this term of service. The bodies of those men who died in Alexandria were sent home. The deaths were:

August 14th—Private George H. Rich, Company B, in third division hospital, from accidental wounds while on guard.

August 24th—Private Richard M. Sabin, Company G, in third division hospital, from acute dysentery.

September 11th—Private Edwin A. Grant, Company B, in third division hospital, from typhoid fever.

September 11th—Private Lyman Tucker, Company F, in regimental hospital, from typhoid fever.

September 18th—Private Samuel Stone, Company F, in third division hospital, from typhoid fever.

September 20th—Private George G. Harrington, Company F, in third division hospital, from typhoid fever.

September 23d—Private Herman J. Gilbert, Company F, in third division hospital, from typhoid fever.

September 25th—Private Edward H. Aldrich, Company G, in Soldier’s Rest Hospital, from typho-malarial fever. (Aldrich was a student, borne on the rolls, but never mustered in.)

October 4th—Private Patrick Riley, Company G, in third division hospital, from pyæmia. Riley was shot in the leg by a secessionist of Alexandria, on August 27th. Amputation was necessary, from which he did not recover.

October 5th—Private Henry H. Lowell, Company F, in second division hospital, from typhoid fever.

October 8th—Private Walter Foster, 2d., Company D, in second division hospital, from suicide by drowning; insanity.

October 24th—Private William T. Cutler, Company F, in third division hospital, from typhoid fever.

October 26th—Private Calvin S. Haynes, Company C, Slough Barracks Hospital, from typhoid fever.

October 30th—Private John J. Bisbee, Company H, Slough Barracks Hospital, from chronic diarrhœa.

November 7th—Private Thomas E. Flemming, Company A, at Roxbury, Mass., from sore leg.

November 17th—Private William H. Perry, Company A, at Boston, Mass., from consumption.

There were eight men discharged from service, by Major-General Augur, Twenty-Second Army Corps, for disability, viz.: Sergeant William H. Alexander, Company C, September 10th; Private Willard L. Studley, Company D, September 10th; Private Wendell Davis, Company H, September 13th; Corporal Jerome P. Thurber, Company G, September 13th; Private Nathan Washburne, Company C, September 16th; Private Jason Whitaker, Company E, September 19th; Private Henry W. Dean, Company I, September 20th; Private Albert E. Frost, Company K, September 20th.

One man reënlisted for one year in the Thirty-Eighth Massachusetts Volunteers: Private Andrew C. Hale, Company H, September 8th.

By regimental General Orders No. 111, issued November 6th, at Roxbury, Mass., the following men were relieved from detailed daily duty at headquarters, with a complimentary notice for their faithful service: Private Ezra Abbott, Company A, chief wagoner; Private James Allen, Company E, orderly; Private Ellery C. Bartlett, Company K, clerk.

As Chaplain Sanger could not get permission from his church people in Webster, Mass., to serve one hundred days with his regiment, an attempt was made to obtain a commission for Second-Lieutenant Galvin, Company F, a regularly ordained clergyman from Brookfield, Mass., who was unanimously elected by his brother officers, August 10th, to fill that position. Through unavoidable delays and informality in the proper papers, no progress was made towards securing his appointment until late in September. Lieutenant Galvin was then absent in Philadelphia on sick leave, and it was doubtful if he would be able to rejoin his regiment before the term of service expired. Difficulties also existed in obtaining a muster dated back, so his appointment was abandoned. He officiated as chaplain for a few weeks only.

One payment was made to the regiment, the last week in September, when the men were paid for July and August. The following ladies, wives of officers, boarded at a hotel in Alexandria, and saw what constitutes camp life in time of war: Mrs. Burrell, Mrs. Stedman, Mrs. Stiles, Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Ford.

This brief sketch is sufficient to prove that the one-hundred-day men did not have a picnic during their service. To be sure, the regiment did not get into an action: a stroke of good luck. The various train-guard detachments were liable to have a fight at any moment, and, until back in camp, were kept ready for such a contingency.

In conclusion the writer would add: Let no man who enlisted in a three years regiment sneer at the nine months troops, or those who served a shorter term. A large number reënlisted later on in other organizations, and served to the end of the war. Their previous service was of great benefit wherever they went; in fact, they were not raw recruits. The three years man who served continuously with his colors is a rarity.

It does not follow that every man who enlisted in the army is entitled to credit for so doing. “Bummers” and shirks were plenty. When a thousand men are got together there must be a percentage of this element among them. The most worthy and deserving men do not have much to say about their army experience, and never drag it into prominence for selfish reasons.

No undue importance is intended in naming men who were on detached daily duty as clerks, orderlies, etc.; such places were considered “soft berths,” although much hard work was done by many of the detailed men. The soldier who remained with his colors, and did duty like a man, is the one to whom most praise is due.