SECOND ENCAMPMENT AT WHITE OAK CHURCH AND THE PENNSYLVANIA CAMPAIGN.
The army in its old position—A trip to Dixie—The wounded at the hospitals—Introduction of army badges—Adornments of the camps—The "Third crossing"—The Barnard mansion—Exchanging papers—A broken lieutenant—The Pennsylvania campaign commenced—Restriction of baggage—A severe march—An army bathing—At Centreville—Bristow Station—March to Maryland—General Hooker succeeded by General Meade—Position of the army.
The army now turned back to its old position, encamping in line nearly as before, only all the troops which had encamped on our left, between the Sixth corps and Belle Plain, were placed far to the right, leaving the Sixth corps on the left of the army, instead of being nearly in its center. The corps occupied a line nearly a mile in rear of the old camp, where the ground had been unoccupied, and where a growth of young pines, and, in places, considerable groves of oak timber, afforded far more attractive surroundings than the old quarters.
The wounded were taken to an immense field hospital at Potomac creek, where hospital tents sufficient to accommodate eight thousand wounded men were erected in a locality where cool breezes could play freely among the encampments, and where pure water could be obtained. On the 9th, many of our wounded were brought to the side of the river at Fredericksburgh and sent over to us by the enemy, in pontoon boats, under flags of truce. On the morning of the 10th, the surgeon of the Seventy-seventh was ordered to proceed at once to Banks' Ford to receive wounded officers who were to be removed from the enemy's lines. The doctor was soon at the ford, where he found a boat and a flag of truce at his disposal. He crossed the river and met the officer in command, who received him courteously, but declared that he knew nothing of any officers to come there. The surgeon addressed a note to General Wilcox, commanding the brigade at Banks' Ford, but he knew as little about it as the officer at the river. "There are plenty of federal officers here," said he, "and we shall be glad to send them across to your lines at any time when General Hooker shall apply to General Lee for them; but I know of no arrangement of the kind now." Believing that some arrangements had been made for the transfer of the wounded officers, but that the order had not yet reached General Wilcox, the surgeon spent the day among the rebels, conversing with their officers, while his boatmen, having with them a canteen of brandy, soon made themselves very popular with the crowd of rebel soldiers who gathered about, dressed in motley colors, buff, blue, gray, butternut, and colors indescribable. They were all in good humor and lively, and the hours passed pleasantly, as the men from the two opposing armies chatted in the shade of some oak trees. Finding little prospect of executing his peaceful mission, the surgeon obtained permission from General Wilcox to get the remains of Colonel Van Houghten, of the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment, who was shot at Salem Church, and died from his wound next day. Doctor McNiel, of the Twenty-first, with a party of men, proceeded to the place where the colonel was buried, a mile and a half from the ford, and brought the remains to the river and across to our own lines. On reporting at General Hooker's head-quarters, the surgeon found that no agreement had been concluded until late in the day for the delivery of the wounded officers; so he had spent the day in rebeldom to little effect, except the restoration of the body of the colonel to his friends, and leaving a company of nurses to assist our surgeons who were already in attendance upon our prisoners.
Nearly all our wounded were at length returned to us, and were sent to Potomac Creek, or to Washington. At Potomac Creek, the coöperation of the Sanitary Commission was of great assistance to the surgeons; and many comforts and luxuries, the gifts of our friends at home, cheered the hearts of the wounded and suffering heroes. Sheets, pillow cases, handkerchiefs, with jellies and canned fruits, were distributed in profusion. Here was the place for manifesting the overflowing interest and noble generosity of the people of the north, and thousands blessed them for their munificence.
A mistaken idea prevailed among friends at home, that the agents of the Sanitary Commission resorted to the battle-field, ministering to the wants of the wounded, dressing the wounds, bringing the crippled from the field, and feeding the hungry. Our illustrated papers were filled with fine engravings, representing these acts of mercy on the battle-field. These were pictures of the imagination. Nothing of the sort was done. No Sanitary or Christian Commission agents frequented the battle-field. All wounded were brought from the field by soldiers, placed in ambulances of the government and taken to the field hospitals, where all the wounds were dressed by surgeons or their nurses, and where all were fed by officers selected for this special duty. The Sanitary and Christian Commissions had a great mission. They were the representatives of the lively interest felt by the people of the north, for the army it had sent forth to maintain the institutions of their country. They found abundant opportunity for accomplishing their mission at the large hospitals after the roar of battles had passed away; but they had nothing to do with the care of the wounded on the battle-field.
Just before leaving camp for the campaign just closed, General Hooker had issued an order assigning to each corps and division its badge, which was to be worn by every officer and soldier connected with either of the corps. The men of the Sixth corps now regarded their cross with greater pride than had ever ancient knight looked upon the heraldry which emblazoned his arms. It had been baptized in blood, and amid wonderful achievements of heroism. Every member of the noble corps felt an exulting pride in his relation to it, and regarded his badge as a mark of great honor.
The introduction of these badges became of great service to the army. Every man could easily recognize the corps and division of any other one in the army; and each corps learned to feel a pride in its own badge.
We had seven corps in the army; First, Second, Third, Fifth, Sixth, Eleventh and Twelfth. The badge of the First corps was a lozenge, that of the Second a shamrock, of the Third a diamond, of the Fifth a Maltese cross, of the Sixth a Greek cross, the Eleventh a lunette, and of the Twelfth a star. The badge of the First division of each corps was red, that of the Second white, and of the Third blue. All wagons and ambulances were marked with their appropriate badge, and the sick soldier who fell to the rear with a pass to the ambulances, had no difficulty in finding his own train; and quartermasters and others connected with the trains were greatly assisted in their duties by this ingenious device.
The camps of all the regiments of our divisions were pleasantly located, and great pains were taken in laying them out and in decorating them. When regiments were not sheltered in groves, pines were transplanted in the company streets in great profusion; and arches and bowers of the most elaborate and elegant designs, formed of the boughs of the red cedar and pine, exquisitely entwined with the bright green holly, formed a most attractive and beautiful feature of our second camp at White Oak Church. At division head-quarters, General Howe had caused to be erected a most elegant hall of these rural materials, which was a wonder of architectural beauty as well as exquisite taste and ingenuity. Its alcoves, its vestibules and its arches, were marvels of elegance. Here came officers, high in command, and brilliant dames, and passed a night in the service of Terpsichore, while bands discoursed stirring music.
In the camp of the Seventy-seventh, the adornments were profuse and beautiful. At head-quarters, a palace of green arose among the trees near our tents. For days, mule teams hauled huge loads of cedar boughs, which were woven into massive pillars or elegantly turned arches, and the structure rose like one of those fair bowers we read of in fairy tales. Our surgeon and quartermaster were preparing the elegant structure for the reception of their wives. It was almost complete, needing only a few finishing touches, and the anxiously awaited guests were expected on the following day; when, alas for the expectations of men, an order came to be ready to march at daylight next morning! The ladies, although too late to enjoy this rustic palace, arrived in time to find the corps in line of battle, and witness fierce artillery duels between the opposing armies. In their eagerness to watch the flight of the shells, they sometimes manifested greater bravery than their companions, whose experience had taught them to regard with suspicion the shrieking missiles.
We had passed a pleasant month at this camp, and the men were eager, notwithstanding their comfortable quarters, for active campaigning. The health and spirits of the soldiers of the corps had never been better, and in spite of the failure at Chancellorsville, they felt a great deal of confidence. So the order to move was received with pleasure, and we turned away from our pleasant camps willingly.
We left camp on the morning of June 5th, one of the loveliest of days, and, taking the road we had already trod on two occasions, halted in the valley of the Rappahannock, on the very spot where we had rested at the first and second battles of Fredericksburgh, and prepared, for a third time within six months, to cross the river. A correspondent of one of the daily journals, writing from head-quarters of the army, says: "Howe's splendid division of the fighting Sixth corps was selected for the work of crossing, and the point for laying the bridges was just below the mouth of Deep Run, at the identical spot where we had crossed twice before."
Pontoons and batteries of artillery formed long lines behind the little ridge which runs parallel with the river, and the infantry marched and countermarched to get in right positions. Here, behind the little ridge, we rested, until about five o'clock in the afternoon, our men mounting the ridge, and gazing across the river, where the enemy had turned the rifle pits thrown up by our First division, to their own use; and, in return, the rebels raised their heads above the breastworks, or ventured to the river side, wondering what could be the intention of the army, so recently driven from these grounds, in making such preparations for another crossing. There seemed but a small force opposed to us; a strong picket on the bank, and the reserve posted behind the breastworks, were all that could be seen, though we well knew that the heights beyond swarmed with opposing hosts, as they had twice before. At length the engineers drew the pontoons to the edge of the river, the Seventy-seventh being detailed to assist in unloading. The rebels betook themselves to the rifle pits, and opened a brisk fire; but presently they were glad to draw their heads behind the earthworks, for five of our batteries, Williston's, McCartney's, Cowen's, Haines' and McCarthey's, were run out upon the plain, and opened a fierce fire, whole batteries firing by volleys, until the whole plain, on the further side, was a sheet of flame from the bursting shells, and huge clouds of dust, plowed up by the shrieking missiles, rose so as to obscure the heights. The rebels could only load, and thrust their guns above the earthworks, firing at random, for no man could raise his head without coming in the way of the fiery messengers of death, which filled the air. Still their fire, although at random, was annoying, and it was evident that the safest method was to cross men in boats, enough to drive the rebels from their pits, or capture them, and then build the bridge without opposition.
The Twenty-sixth New Jersey and Fifth Vermont regiments leaped into the boats, quickly crossed, and, rushing from the bank, charged upon the pits. The rebels were now, for the first time offered an opportunity for flight; for while the artillery was filling the whole plain with bursting shells, there remained no alternative but to hug the earth behind the rifle pits; now that the artillery ceased, they scattered across the plain in hot haste, before the rapid charge of our boys. The two regiments pursued the fugitives, and many of them threw down their arms; we captured about seventy-five prisoners; of these, thirty-six were captured by Captain Davenport, who, with eighteen of his men, was marching up the ravine through which passes the Deep Run, when they came upon the rebels, whom they obliged to surrender, their captain delivering his sword to Captain Davenport. Five or six men of the engineers were killed, and some wounded. The Vermonters and New Jerseymen, also, had a few men wounded.
The Seventy-seventh had one man killed. Sergeant Rex Haines was shot through the head. He was a brave man, and one of the best soldiers in the regiment. He had, until that very day, been confined to the hospital with severe illness. A few of our men, also, received slight wounds.
The engineers proceeded at once to lay the bridges, and on the following morning the whole division crossed. Our picket reserve made their rendezvous at the ruins of the fine mansion which we had used for our Second division hospital at the first battle. Now nothing but the bare walls and heaps of rubbish marked the place where the beautiful residence had stood. A regiment of Mississippians had occupied the place, and had ruthlessly and willfully burned it. Yet the fine chestnuts and broad-spreading oaks afforded as luxurious a shade as in the palmy days when the old bachelor proprietor lounged beneath their shadow.
The picket line extended nearly to the railroad, and, as before, formed a semi-circle, radiating from the pontoon bridge. The enemy had also formed a strong picket to oppose us, and the two lines of skirmishers were within a few yards of each other.
It was a beautiful Sabbath, and all day long the troops lay upon the plain, wondering what was to be done. There were the frowning batteries of the enemy on the hills in front, apparently able to blow the whole division into the air, and we could, with our glasses, discover great numbers of infantry at the base of the hills, half hidden by the low growth of pines. The main body of our army still remained in camp; only our Sixth corps had moved. Evidently the enemy concluded that the advance was rather one of observation than attack, and quietly awaited our movements. Some firing was for a time kept up on the skirmish line, and now and then a shell would come crashing through some of the houses at the right, where our pickets were concealed; but at length, by mutual consent, the pickets of each army watched the movements of their opponents without molesting them. During this quasi-truce, a spirit of sociability manifested itself, and our boys soon struck up an acquaintance with their dangerous neighbors. At length an exchange of papers was proposed, and upon mutual agreement of temporary amity, a Yankee and a Johnnie would step into the open space between the two lines, shake hands, inquire each other's regiment, trade papers and retire.
There came at this time, to each company of one regiment, a copy of the New York Observer, Independent, Christian Examiner, Evangelist and other papers, and Mr. Alvord, the agent of the Tract Society, had just been among the men, distributing copies of the American Messenger. These were soon collected and carried over to be exchanged for copies of the Richmond Enquirer, Sentinel, and Examiner. The trade was not kept wholly within the limits of literary exchange, but sugar and coffee passed into the rebels' hands in return for plugs of tobacco. At length an order came from division head-quarters, stopping this illicit practice. Our boys declared that they were acting the part of colporteurs to the barbarian rebels, and, if they had been allowed to continue the distribution of religious papers among them, they would soon be convinced of the error of their ways, and desist from further fighting.
During the night of the 8th, our division was withdrawn to the north side of the river, our place being taken by the Third division. We retired to Stafford Heights and bivouacked. Our bivouac became our encampment for a week. There we lay, wondering what was next to be done, while the artillery on either side exchanged shots. The 32-pounders on our hills sending their huge shot across to the opposite heights, and the rebel guns replying, sometimes with shells of most improved pattern, and at other times throwing over huge pieces of railroad iron.
An incident of much interest to Neill's brigade occurred while we were here. A lieutenant, belonging to the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment, had been tried by a court-martial, and convicted of cowardice at the battle on May 3d. The whole brigade was brought out at the hour for evening parade, and formed in a hollow square. To the center of the inclosure the culprit was brought. His sentence was then read to him, which was that he be dismissed the service in disgrace. The adjutant-general of the brigade then proceeded to execute the details of the sentence. The sword of the cowardly officer was taken from him and broken over his head; his shoulder-straps and buttons were then cut off, and his pistol broken and thrown away. The sentence, and the manner of its execution, were ordered to be published in the newspapers of the county where the regiment was raised. A similar sentence was executed in the Seventy-seventh regiment on the same evening. Lewis Burke, of Company F, was convicted of cowardice at the same battle. He was brought before the regiment, which stood in line; his sentence read, his buttons and the blue cord on his coat cut off, and a placard marked "Coward" hung to his back. A guard, with fixed bayonets pointing at his back, then marched him off, the band playing "The Rogues' March." Burke went to serve out his time at the Dry Tortugas at hard labor, without pay or allowance.
As we looked upon the execution of these humiliating sentences, we could not help feeling how much better it would have been to have fallen nobly on that field of battle, honored and lamented, than to live to be thus degraded and despised. It had never been so forcibly impressed upon our minds, how much better it was to die nobly than to live in disgrace. When we thought of the noble Wheeler and his brave companions, who had given their lives for their country on yonder heights, and then turned to the sickening scene before us, we could but exclaim, "How are the dead to be envied!"
At length, on Saturday night, June 13th, we withdrew from Fredericksburgh, and commenced the memorable Pennsylvania campaign. There had been, for several days, indications that General Lee was throwing his army to our right, and was crossing the Rappahannock in the vicinity of Culpepper. At length this had become a certainty; and the whole army was quickly moved to come up with him. All day long the hurrying of trains, the movements of troops, the intense activity at the railroad station, where everything was being hastily thrown into cars, had indicated a sudden leave-taking.
At length the trains were off, and the whole army in motion. Our own corps being rear-guard, started at ten o'clock at night. The darkness was intense, and a thunder shower prevailed. Our route for a long time lay through a thick woods, where the branches of the trees, meeting over our heads, shut out the little light that might have penetrated the thunder clouds, and the column was shut in perfect darkness. The road was terribly muddy, and the batteries which were trying to pass over the same route, were frequently stuck in the mire. Our men stumbled over stones and fallen trees, often falling beneath the feet of the horses. Men fell over logs and stones, breaking their legs and arms. Thus we continued the hasty and difficult march, while the rain poured in torrents upon us. Later in the night the road became more open, and the rain ceased. The darkness was not so black, still it was difficult to see the road. We were passing over corduroy; some of the logs were a foot, and others a foot and a half through. They were slippery from the rain, and the men, heavily laden with knapsacks, guns and cartridges, tumbled headlong, many of them going off at the side, and rolling far down the steep embankments. A laugh from the comrades of the luckless ones, while some one would call out, "Have you a pass to go down there?" was the only notice taken of such accidents; and the dark column hurried on, until at three o'clock in the morning, we halted at Potomac creek, where we slept soundly upon the ground until morning.
The following day was Sunday. Our corps did not march until evening; we lay resting from the fatigues of the night before, and watching the immense army trains hurrying by, the horses and mules lashed to their full speed, or viewing the destruction of the great hospitals which had been established here.
There were here immense quantities of stores; bedding, glass and earthenware, instruments and medicines, with cooking and other utensils which could not, in the haste of breaking up, be transported; so they were thrown in great heaps and burned.
All day long the trains crowded by, four and five wagons abreast; the drivers shouting and lashing their beasts to their greatest speed. No one who has not seen the train of an army in motion, can form any just conception of its magnitude, and of the difficulties attending its movements. It was said that the train of the Army of the Potomac, including artillery, at the time of which we speak, if placed in a single line, the teams at the distance necessary for the march, would extend over seventy miles.
At Fairfax Court House, soon after this, the trains were greatly reduced, and again at Fairfax Station; and after General Meade took command of the army they were still further reduced. Yet, notwithstanding all these curtailments, our trains were said to be between thirty and forty miles long.
How little did the impatient people, who clamored at all times, in winter as well as summer, for an immediate "advance" of the army, consider that this immense body must always advance with the army; that it must always be protected; that the army on every march and at every halt must be so disposed as to prevent the enemy from reaching it from front, flank or rear; and that when an advance was commenced, if the trains were to become blocked up, or stuck fast in mud, the whole army must wait for them, no matter whether it had reached a favorable position for a halt or not. It was no small undertaking to move an army with such a train; yet there were many at home who thought the army could move from one place to another with the greatest ease.
It is true that the enemy got along with smaller trains than ours, and it is true that the rebel army on that account was more easily moved than our own. It was one of the disadvantages of too liberal a government that our movements for two years were weighed down with these cumbersome trains; and even after so long an experience of their evil it was with strong feelings of opposition that the reduction was acquiesced in.
A captain or lieutenant of the line was allowed a small valise, in which to carry his company books and his clothing; and a staff officer was but little better off. Must this little be reduced? Surely the ammunition and the commissary trains could suffer no diminution. The amount of hospital supplies carried in the wagons was already limited; could it be reduced? The people were clamoring to have wagons of the Sanitary and Christian Commissions admitted to the hospital trains, to carry articles which, although they were gratefully received by the soldiers, yet were not absolutely necessary. The ambulance train was surely not too large, and we could spare no artillery.
Yet the train was reduced. Small as was the valise of the line officers, it must be still smaller; little as was the baggage of the staff officer, it must be less; and inconveniently contracted as was the size of the mess chests, they must be still further reduced.
Thus, through the day, we watched the hurrying trains as they swept by with immense clatter and tumult; and the files of troops, guards to the trains, pressing forward, amid the clouds of dust and the rattle and noise of the wagons. As the sun sunk in the west, we gathered about a green knoll, in the shade of a pine grove, and sung old familiar hymns; then the chaplain made a prayer; thus was offered the evening sacrifice for the Sabbath. Few who gathered—
"Where through the long drawn aisle or fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise,"
offered more heartfelt thanksgiving, or more earnest supplications for future protection, than the band of veterans seated on that mossy bank, while about them was the confusion of a great army, pressing to meet its foe.
At length, at nine o'clock at night, we took the road, and, joining the mighty column, marched rapidly forward. The night was dark, and the roads uneven, yet the men pressed forward with wonderful spirit. They had heard during the day that Lee with his army, avoiding us on the right, and moving with secrecy, had already eluded us, and was rapidly making his way into Maryland, taking his route through the Shenandoah Valley. This was enough to stimulate men whose greatest desire was to meet their opponents in open fight, even on rebel ground. But now the rebels were invading northern soil; Maryland, Pennsylvania, and even New York, were threatened, and the men knew no limit to their enthusiasm. "We can whip them on our own soil," said they. "There is no man who cannot fight the better when it is for his own home." Such expressions passed from lip to lip as the dark column pushed on during the whole night. At times there would be a halt; not for rest, for the men, expecting momentarily to move on, would stand in the ranks; then, on again. Here and there were the camps of troops who had occupied the extreme right of the army. Fine arbors and avenues had been erected from the cedar boughs; these were set on fire, and the whole heavens were aglow with the flames. Morning dawned, the march was becoming tedious. The men were faint, and wanted rest and coffee; but there was no halt.
Faint and weary, yet with determination, the masses of men toiled along. At length, as the morning advanced, the heat of the sun was almost intolerable, and the dust suffocating. Not a leaf stirred on the trees. Vegetation drooped under the scorching rays, and the clouds of dust was so dense, that one could not see half the length of a regiment.
The men at length began to fall from exhaustion. One after another, with faces burning with a glow of crimson, and panting for breath, would turn to the surgeons of their regiments, and receive passes to the ambulances and a draught from the surgeon's flask; but at length no more passes could be given; the ambulances were crowded, and so many were falling on every side, that it became useless to require or attempt to give passes, or even for the surgeons to attempt to relieve the sufferers.
In every corner of the rail fences, and under every tree and bush, groups of men, with faces glowing with redness, some with streams of perspiration rolling down their cheeks, and others with their red faces dry and feverish, strewed the wayside and lined the hedges. Here the color-bearer of a regiment, his color lying beside him, lay gasping for breath; there a colonel, his horse tied to the fence, strove to fan the air into a little life with his broad-brimmed hat. Under one little clump of cedars might be seen an exhausted group of line officers, captains and lieutenants, and under the next, a number of enlisted men who could no longer keep the road. The spectacle along the roadside became appalling. Regiments became like companies, and companies lost their identity; men were dying with sunstroke; and still the march was continued. This could not last much longer, for the brave men who still held out were fast losing strength, and soon there would be no troops able to move. At length, at nearly three o'clock, we came in sight of the little, old, depopulated town of Dumfries. Here, to the joy of all, we saw men filing into the fields for a halt. There was no cheer, no expression of gladness; for the tired men, with feet blistered and raw, worn out by seventeen hours' constant march, almost melted and smothered, cared little for demonstrations. Throwing themselves upon the ground, they rested for half an hour, and then, rousing long enough to cook their coffee, they refreshed themselves with their hard tack, pork and coffee, and were ready to sleep. Here the Vermont brigade was drawn up in line, and some half a dozen men, skulkers, principally from the Twenty-sixth New Jersey, were drummed out of camp, the bands of the brigade playing "The Rogues' March." All who were participants of that day's work, remember it as the most trying march of the Army of the Potomac. Very grateful to the weary army was sleep that night, but, at two o'clock in the morning, the shout passed along the line, "fall in! fall in!" And so, without coffee, we rolled our blankets and fell into line. But, as often happens, when the whole army is to move, some parts must wait long before the others are out of the way. So we of the Sixth corps waited until four o'clock, and got our coffee finally before the rest of the column had made way for us. It was another hot, dusty day, but not so intolerable as the day before, and about two or three o'clock we arrived at Occoquan creek, crossing at Wolf Run Shoals. Here we had two or three hours' rest. The men had no sooner halted than they plunged into the stream, and the wide creek was soon alive with swarms of men splashing and diving in the cooling element.
It was a novel sight. An army bathing. A brigade of nine months Vermont troops, had been stationed here during the winter. They were full regiments, never thinned by exhausting labors, hard campaigns or the trying ordeal of battle. They now bade farewell to their comfortable quarters and picket duty, and joined the Grand Army on a real campaign. Although we had already made a long march, at four o'clock we were again on the road, and before dark we reached Fairfax Station, six miles from Wolf Run Shoals. This was a more cheerful march than the others. The men, refreshed by their bath, and strengthened by a good dinner and two hours' rest, now went shouting, singing and laughing, as though marching was but play.
This day we heard that some part of Lee's army was in Pennsylvania! The men were as anxious to go forward as were their commanders. The corps bivouacked in groves on the turnpike, which led from Fairfax to Manassas, resting for the night and the following day. Here our train underwent a process of purging. Needless articles, and many useful ones, which could be disposed of, were sent to the rear. The trains were to go with smaller loads, and many teams were to be taken from them.
We had marched, since setting out from before Fredericksburgh, through a country, well enough by nature, but neglected, barren and depopulated. How large a portion of this great State was in this sad condition? Its naturally rich fields were grown up to scrub pines, mugworts and wormwood. Its fair valleys desolate of inhabitants, or inhabited by low white trash, as idle as ignorant. The groves and fields where we now rested were pleasant for a bivouac, but the fields were waste land, and the oak timber was all that seemed of any value, as far as we could see. Yet we were now within a few miles of Washington, where articles of food brought fabulous prices, and wood could scarcely be procured. Why were these fine lands desolate? Was it because agriculture was unprofitable? Surely, with Washington and Alexandria so near, and Baltimore at a short distance farther, there should be a good market for produce. Was it because the war had put a stop to agricultural pursuits? The scrub pines and dwarf oaks growing upon deserted tobacco fields, where the ridges were still plainly visible, showed that before the war indolence prevailed.
At five o'clock on the morning of June 19th, we were again on the march, reaching Fairfax Court House before noon. Again our train was overhauled, baggage reduced, and teams sent to the rear. By this time the train began to assume more reasonable dimensions. General officers were strictly forbidden the use of ambulances, henceforth all ambulances were to be used for their legitimate purposes, and general officers and their staffs were to get along with a more reasonable amount of baggage, while regimental officers were to be allowed only the most limited amount of transportation. A single small valise only was the extent of baggage for each regimental officer, and a mess chest of the size of a cracker box, was to be the allowance for all officers of a single company.
About Fairfax Court House was stationed a division of cavalry and some infantry, under the command of General Stahl. These troops, like the brigade of Vermont troops, had been employed in guarding the country against the inroads of guerilla bands. These were now also to join the Army of the Potomac, and their gallant conduct at Falling Waters, a few days after, showed them to be composed of the best material.
General Hooker, unwilling to favor General Lee, by uncovering the capital, and wisely judging of his wary enemy's motives, instead of pushing rapidly forward to Maryland, as Lee desired, threw the different corps into positions, which should at once be favorable for watching his movements, and resisting any attack. Accordingly, our own corps, turning partly back from our line of march, on the 20th, marched towards Bristow Station.
We passed through Centreville, its powerful forts and redoubts garrisoned by large regiments of men, who wore bright new uniforms, and whose officers had red tufts upon their caps. These new uniforms were soon to be as grimy and dusty as those of the veterans, at whom they now gazed with so much interest, and the full regiments were soon to find their ranks thinned by the same terrible process which had made those passing by them only fragments of regiments.
The works about Centreville were of most powerful character, having been made even stronger than at the last battle of Bull Run. In the forts and redoubts upon the commanding positions, was mounted heavy artillery, and the long lines of trenches and breastworks, stretching far to the flanks, and commanding declivities where musketry and artillery could sweep an advancing force with terrible effect, rendered the position impregnable from any direct assault. The few dilapidated houses still remaining to mark the site of the village, presented a forlorn and pitiful appearance. Deserted by their owners, occupied as stables and storehouses some of them falling in ruins, and all dirty and dilapidated, they were a mournful commentary on the ruthless destruction which follows in the footsteps of war. Still further on, our route led us along the Manassas Gap railroad. Here were more sad pictures of the havoc of war. The track was torn up, the ties burnt. Every now and then, numbers of car wheels and axles, iron bands and braces, couplings and reaches, showed where whole trains had been burned.
Here and there, the incombustible materials among the debris showed the lading of particular cars. The remains of fruit cans, tin plates, blacking boxes and glassware, told of sutlers who had disposed of their wares at less than the usual exorbitant prices. Heaps of spikes and handleless hammers, and iron bars, reminded us of disconcerted plans in railroad extension, while numberless solid shot, bullets and fragments of shells, showed where car loads of ammunition had been consumed in harmless explosions.
At length, after a hard day's march, we arrived at Bristow Station, where the corps turned into the fields and bivouacked.
The tower and wind-mill which had been used for raising water to the tank, remained alone to show where the station had been; all the other buildings being destroyed, except where still remained the dismantled ruins of what had once been a hotel.
Here, as for miles back on the road, were the remains of ruined cars and their contents.
The surrounding country was delightful. A mile or two south of us was a little church in the midst of an oak grove. It is an agreeable peculiarity with the southern people, that they are accustomed to locate their country churches in the midst of pleasant groves, sometimes at a distance from any residence. In this respect, they certainly exhibit better taste than the people of most of our northern States, who have such a propensity for setting the church on the summit of some high hill where not a tree or shrub adorns the grounds, and the aspiring steeple seems, like Babel, to be striving vainly to reach the heavens.
On the morning after our arrival here, we heard the sounds of cannonading not far off, and learned that the cavalry under General Pleasanton were hotly engaged at Aldee and Upperville, with Stuart's rebel cavalry, and that our forces were getting the best of the desperate encounter, winning laurels for themselves and gaining another of that series of victories which was destined to remove the derision in which that arm of the service had been held, not from any previous want of good fighting qualities on the part of our cavalry. General Pleasanton had attacked Stuart's forces near Middleburgh, driving the rebels in confusion through Upperville to Ashby's Gap, taking some pieces of artillery and a large number of prisoners. General Kilpatrick, in this engagement, had exhibited fighting qualities of the first order, riding in front of the men and leading the way when they hesitated. His gallant conduct inspired for him the confidence and admiration of his men. It was the commencement of a brilliant career which made him one of the first cavalry commanders in the army. His dashing ride from the Peninsula to Fredericksburgh, with but a handful of men, eluding the watchfulness of the wily Stuart, had already established his talent for bold adventure, and his conduct on this occasion proved his personal bravery. These are the two great qualities needed for a cavalry officer, and Kilpatrick's name at once became a tower of strength among his men.
In this pleasant locality the corps remained, an outpost for the army, guarding the passes from the Shenandoah, for five days. The weather was delightful, and the men enjoyed, to the utmost, the needed rest. They lounged in the shade of their tents or in the neighboring groves, or strolled along the railroad track, examining curiously the ruined remains of the trains. In a delightful spot at a distance from the camps, almost surrounded by a grove of oak trees, the hospital tents of our Second division were erected. To this quiet and lovely spot, where cool breezes always played, were brought the sick and weary, and carefully nursed.
But General Lee despaired of inducing General Hooker to uncover the capital, so, leaving Virginia with his whole army, he pushed toward Pennsylvania, determined at least to draw our army as far away from Washington as possible, and to reap rich harvests of spoils among the overflowing granaries of the Keystone State. No sooner had the movement of the main body of Lee's army into Maryland commenced, than General Hooker, with his forces, commenced the pursuit.