INTRODUCTION.
The author of this volume has honored me with an invitation to write an “Introduction.” A book without a preface would be an anomaly: in other words, out of harmony with established usage; not strictly important, but answering much the same purpose as the “whereas” preceding the resolutions of the convention.
I have not been permitted to read the author’s manuscript, yet I do not hesitate to assure the reader that as he peruses the pages of the book he will find much to entertain and profit. To the veteran who enlisted and fought in the historic “Twenty-ninth Ohio Veteran volunteer infantry” it will be read with especial interest. The eye will moisten, and the heart swell with mingled emotions as he is reminded again of the varying scenes of the camp, the march, and the battle. Others, too young to remember anything of the war, but who have heard the stories of the conflict from their fathers, will read this historic sketch of the old regiment with the greatest avidity.
We well remember the author as “Hamp,” the drummer boy of Company B, his boyish look, with his neatly-fitting suit of blue, and the tenor drum suspended from his neck, while with nimble fingers he plied the ebony sticks in beating the tattoo, reveille, or the “long roll.”
He has done a real and invaluable service to his comrades in gathering up and condensing in neat and durable form so many interesting facts relating to the work of a noble regiment. So much, at least, is saved from oblivion.
In writing the history of any war only a mere outline can be thought of. Anything like a full and detailed account of what happened is out of the question. Neither time nor space would permit.
The multiplied thousands who carried their muskets and knapsacks on foot all over “Dixie,” and who really did the hard work of the conflict, must be massed in history even as in war they were massed against the foe. Their individual deeds of daring and suffering were not a whit behind those of the great Wellingtons, Washingtons, and Grants. The latter were in positions to glide easily into history, and have their heroic deeds emblazoned and read in the books of every nation. The former may have loved their country as well and fought as bravely for her honor, and yet die in obscurity, “to fortune and to fame unknown.”
Dr. SeCheverell has doubtless done his best under the circumstances to do justice to the name of every member of the old Twenty-ninth. It was known as the Giddings’ regiment, in honor of the Hon. Joshua R. Giddings, for twenty consecutive years a member of the lower house of Congress.
Perhaps no man during his time did more than Mr. Giddings to create public opinion in favor of the freedom of the slave. The regiment was raised almost entirely within the bounds of his old district, and it was fitting that it should bear his name. But I remember that when recruiting it a frequent objection to enlistment was that should any member of the regiment be so unfortunate as to be taken prisoner by the “Rebs,” he would be forthwith shot, hung, or burnt at the stake, particularly on Giddings’ account, and that the name would be so odious in the South, and would so advertise the regiment that every member would be especially hunted down and exterminated.
I think “Hamp” has failed utterly to ascertain that any prisoner from the Twenty-ninth was thus punished, although many of the boys were often in rebel hands.
I have ever considered myself fortunate and honored in having been associated with such a regiment.
I was duly appointed and commissioned as the first chaplain, holding the position one year, resigning at the expiration of that time, and receiving an honorable discharge from the service.
Of the officers of the regiment much might be said. Nobody who ever knew Colonel Buckley will ever forget him. A brave man, a great admirer of order and discipline, faultlessly neat and tidy, a confirmed dyspeptic; yet the most ticklish and fun provoking humor often cropped out in his conversation and intercourse with men. One morning, away down between Bull Run and Fredericksburg, when the tired and jaded men were in line for the day’s march, the Colonel was in his saddle with his toes daintily touching the stirrups, his pale, clean shaven face shaded by the visor of his blue cap, from beneath which his practiced eye swept the whole regiment at a glance, while his well-polished sword, firmly gripped, stood perpendicular, resting against the shoulder; with a stentorian voice he published the following order: “Men of the Twenty-ninth, let there be no straggling on the march to-day. But if any of you do straggle take Twenty-ninth off from your caps and put on One Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania.”
The joke on the One Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania was fully appreciated and immensely enjoyed (a regiment noted for straggling). With roars of laughter the boys shouldered their muskets and knapsacks for another hard day’s march through the pine barrens.
Lieutenant-colonel Clark is remembered as a staunch advocate of temperance, whose interests were ever for the men.
Major Clemmer, as a genial, bluff soldier, whose songs often enlivened the dreariness of the camp or bivouac; and Quartermaster Gibbs, as a man of prompt execution, who expected equal promptness from others. Many anecdotes and incidents of them could be narrated by the page, but I remember that the introduction to the volume is not the place for sketches of this kind; and I fear that I have already introduced much that does not strictly belong to this part of the book. I beg pardon for any seeming trespass in this direction.
This introduction, written in the midst of other pressing duties, with frequent interruptions, now most affectionately inscribes this volume to every member of the Twenty-ninth regiment of Ohio Veteran volunteer infantry; to their wives and their children.
I am happy to enjoy this privilege of saying a few words in Dr. SeCheverell’s book to my old comrades. My prayer is that God will bless every surviving member of the regiment, with their families, also the widows and orphans of deceased members, and that when the battle of life is over, we may wear the victor’s crown in heaven.
R. H. Hurlburt, M.D., D.D.,
Late Chaplain Twenty-ninth regiment, O. V. V. I.
Marion, Iowa, July 18, 1882.