APPENDIX A.
Roster of the Field, Staff and Line Officers of the Fifty-Seventh Regiment, Pennsylvania Veteran Volunteer Infantry, from date of organization, December 14, 1861, to date of muster out, June 29, 1865.
This roster is copied from the report of Gen. A. L. Russell, Adjutant General of the State of Pennsylvania for the year 1866.
APPENDIX B.
REPORT OF DR. JOHN W. LYMAN,
Surgeon of the Fifty-Seventh Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers.
Camp near Poolesville, Md., Headquarters 57th Regiment, Pa. Volunteers.
October 23, 1862.
The 57th Regiment, P. V., was organized at Harrisburg, Pa., and was mustered into the United States service in the latter part of October, 1861.
While in Camp Curtin the men suffered, like most other newly organized regiments, from rubeola, in common with the whole camp. Variola was also present, but by thorough and careful vaccination of the men as fast as recruited its spread was prevented, only two cases of varioloid occurring in the regiment. Typhoid fever, incident to the season in that region, diarrhoea and dysentery, the result of sudden change of diet, and other habits of life, as well as the crowded state of the camp, involving imperfect police arrangements, bad sinks, etc., together with the usual excesses of raw recruits, contributed to keep the sick list of the regiment, at that time numbering about 800 men, up to the average of fifty cases in hospital and quarters, or a little over 6 per cent.
During the prevalence of rubeola the regiment was ordered to Washington, D. C., about the middle of December, and though the intention of the medical officer was to have left all cases of measles behind, what with the anxiety of the convalescents to go along, and new cases occurring on the way, it was found when reaching Washington, that we had no less than fifteen cases of rubeola in various stages of progress, and in three days nearly double that number.
The men were very much exposed to the effects of cold during the trip, being two days and nights in open cars. The site selected for a camp—near Bladensburg toll-gate—was a bad one, low and wet. The result was many cases of pneumonia as a complication or sequella of rubeola, with innumerable catarrhs of all degrees of severity. Four cases of pneumonia resulted fatally the second week. Many more were sent to the general hospital as soon as admittance could be obtained for them. At first admittance was refused for fear of infecting the hospitals. Stimulants were freely used with benefit in simple rubeola as well as that complicated with pneumonia.
A change of camp to better ground about the 1st of January, 1862, together with a full supply of medical and hospital stores, effected a gradual improvement, but the appearance of mumps among the men before the measles had entirely disappeared kept the sick list large all winter, sometimes as great a proportion as 10 per cent. of the whole command. The men were quartered in Sibley tents, not more than 10 or 12 in a tent, inspected daily, and by great care in cleanliness and ventilation, typhus fever was avoided, and but few cases of typhoid appeared.
In February we were moved to near Fort Lyon, below Alexandria, and placed in General Jameson's brigade, from which time until nearly the last of August, the military history is nearly identical with that of the other regiments of the same brigade and its medical history similar. They were the 63d and 105th Pennsylvania and the 87th New York Volunteers.
On the 17th of March we were shipped on board transports at Alexandria for Fortress Monroe, where we were landed at dark during a cold rain storm, to which the men were exposed during the night, in and by the roadside, without any protection whatever. The next day and night they were quartered in open horse sheds. Then for two weeks they were camped in open fields near Hampton, in shelter-tents, in the use of which the men were entirely unskilled, a matter of more moment than would at first appear. The result of the unusual exposure was the appearance of dysentery to considerable extent among the men, even at that early season.
On the 4th and 5th of April we were marched from Hampton to within three miles of Yorktown and confined for one week within short range of the rebel guns. A heavy rain flooded the tents for four days, during two of which neither officers nor men had anything to eat. The brigade was then moved back half a mile into the woods, to a spot in the immediate vicinity of several large marshes; in fact, the camp itself was little better than a swamp. For three weeks the men walked in mud, slept in mud, and drank water from holes scooped out in the mud. The combined remonstrance of the medical officers of the brigade, that a "month's continuance in that place would deprive the Government of the services of one-half the men and officers," was met by the silencing reply: "It is a military necessity."
The subsequent amount of sickness shows that our fears were well founded. The malaria imbibed in the marshes and swamps at Yorktown, together with the excessive amount of labor performed there, on picket and in the trenches, debilitated our men for months, putting dozens of them in their graves and rendered hundreds of them unfit for service for months, many of them for life.
We had one man killed by a shell and five wounded while before Yorktown, in the skirmish of the "peach orchard," and two by accident, one shot through the penis and scrotum, above the testicle, and behind the cord and thigh, by a small sized rifle bullet, recovered rapidly by simple dressing. One shot through the leg died afterwards in general hospital. Remainder slight wounds.
On the 4th of May we again marched in pursuit of the enemy, leaving forty-three sick in hospital and sending four back next day, mostly cases of remittent fever, some diarrhoea and dysentery.
The 5th we marched nine miles through deep mud and rain to the battlefield in front of Williamsburg, the last four and a half on the double quick and a run. The men, exhausted, in profuse perspiration, and wet to the skin, were obliged to lie on their arms during the night without either blankets or fires. From that hour the sickness of the regiment increased frightfully, six or eight new cases occurring daily. We left twenty-seven men in hospital at Williamsburg, sent six to transports at West Point when opposite that place, sent sixty away at Cumberland Landing, left forty-eight at Baltimore Store, and had sixty-four on the sick list at Bottom's Bridge on the 31st of May.
At the battle of Fair Oaks, on the last day of May, we lost of men and officers eleven killed and forty-nine wounded. Of the last, twenty-three were wounds of the upper extremities, two requiring amputation of the arm, and one exsection of the elbow joints; twelve of the lower extremities, four of thigh, seven of leg, and one of knee joint, eight of trunk (three serious); six of head (one serious), and two of both upper and lower extremities.
While at Fair Oaks from the 1st to the 29th of June, the regiment suffered greatly from fever and dysentery, the first of miastamic origin, which, together with the effect of constant apprehension, rendered the nervous system highly impressible. Hence the marked effect of the malaria upon the nervous centers, especially the spine, as evidenced by the almost constantly present—to a greater or less degree—numbing of the extremities with partial paralysis of the lower, usually severe pain in the hips and lumbar region, with great depression of spirits, etc.
The diarrhoea, as well as all diseases resulting from bad digestion or affections of the digestive organs, were caused mainly, if not entirely, by improper habits of cooking and eating. Each soldier cooked for himself, having no other implements than a small tin pail made from fruit can, a tin cup and a borrowed frying pan. Every leisure moment was devoted to cooking and eating; meat of every description was fried instead of being boiled. All regularity in eating was lost, except that uncertain kind, produced by relief from the routine of duty. Nor can any remedy be suggested short of the entire removal of the cooking business from the hands of the soldier, and placing it in charge of a competent corps organized for that special purpose. Soldiers cannot march and fight each with a complete stock of cooking furniture on his back.
In an active campaign like that on the Peninsula, officers suffer from bad cooking equally with the men. Servants are an uncertain kind of dependencies and often obliged to cook for himself, the officer is of course as unskilled as the soldier. A regimental mess for the officers of this regiment under charge of a competent cook, established a few weeks ago, has already proved decidedly advantageous. A similar arrangement for the men, for instance by companies, would be found to be as great an improvement.
For five days before commencing the retreat from before Richmond to Harrison's Landing our men were almost constantly on duty. On the 29th of June they skirmished all day, then marched half of the night. The next day (30th) they fought at Charles City Cross Roads, losing seven killed and fifty-six wounded, most of whom fell into the hands of the enemy. They watched until two o'clock a. m., July 1st, then marched to Malvern Hill, fought there, losing two killed and eight wounded; remained on picket until 9 a. m. next morning, then marched twelve miles through deep mud and hard rain to Harrison's Landing, camped at night in the mud, then moved three miles and camped permanently for outpost duty.
All were exhausted and disheartened, scarcely a well man in the regiment, two hundred and thirty on the sick list for the first few days. Scurvy made its appearance to a small extent, yet sufficient to complicate and multiply other ailments. However, a few weeks' rest, abundance of fresh vegetables, lemons and ice, and we were ready to commence the retreat from the Peninsula with two hundred and fifty men for duty, having lost four by death at Harrison's Landing—two by typhoid fever, one from entraperitonitis and one from phthisis pulmonalis.
On reaching Alexandria we immediately moved to the Rappahannock, had no sickness of moment except two cases of sunstroke, being actively engaged, yet not overworked.
We had three wounded at Bull Run, one in the hand, one in the hip, and one in the breast and face. These last two have since died.
The present health of the regiment is good and its moral condition excellent.
The general conclusions we arrive at are:
First.—That constant seasonable activity is necessary to promote the health of the regiment.
Second.—Men accustomed to exposure in the open air when attacked by fever of any kind, recover with much more certainty and much sooner in tents than in general hospitals in houses, probably because less crowded and admitting more perfect ventilation, and free access to light.
J. W. LYMAN,
Surgeon 57th Reg't., Pa. Vols.
APPENDIX C.
THE 57th PA. VETERAN VOLUNTEERS.
THEIR SERVICES TO THE STATE AND TO THE NATION.
Address of Col. L. D. Bumpus to His Comrades at Gettysburg, July 2, 1888, on the Occasion of the Dedication of the Battlefield Monument of the 57th Pennsylvania Veteran Volunteers.
The 57th Regt., Pa. Vet. Vols., which was made up largely of Mercer county men, dedicated, on Monday, July 2d, one of the finest monuments on the Gettysburg field.
The exercises were opened with prayer by Rev. Dr. Sayres, Department Chaplain of the G. A. R., after which Col. L. D. Bumpus, President of the Monument Committee, introduced Capt. H. H. Hinds, who made a few remarks on the movements of the 3d corps and the work done by the 57th regiment. When Captain Hinds had concluded, the audience sang the hymn "America," after which Capt. D. W. Gore, Secretary of the Monument Association, introduced Col. L. D. Bumpus in the following speech:
It would not be necessary to introduce the orator for this occasion to an audience composed of the members of the old 57th regiment, but as there are many strangers present it would perhaps be proper for me to say that he is a man who was identified, with the 57th regiment during the entire history of its eventful existence. He was with us in our various marches, in our numerous encampments, and in our many hard-fought battles. He entered the army as a mere boy and rose from the ranks to the command of the regiment before reaching his majority. He was known throughout the army as the boy captain. It is largely due to his tireless efforts that we are enabled to dedicate this beautiful monument today. He was true to his country, true to himself, and true to the men of his command. No braver officer ever drew a sword in defence of the old flag and no man enjoyed to a greater degree the respect and regard of his old comrades in arms than does Col. L. D. Bumpus, whom I now introduce to you as the orator for this occasion.
COLONEL BUMPUS' ADDRESS.
Comrades of the 57th Pennsylvania Veteran Volunteers:
In obedience to your command, I have appeared before you in many different characters. I have, with you, trudged along on the weary march and carried my gun, knapsack and forty rounds. And in obedience to your call, I rose rank by rank, until I had the honor to command the grand old regiment. Today, in obedience to your call, I stand before you in a new role; that of orator for this occasion. However well I may have been able to fill the positions to which you have called me heretofore, I do not hope to meet your expectations today. I am what President Lincoln was pleased to call one of the plain people; and you will not be treated today to any flights of oratory or grand play of words. But I shall try to speak words of truth with soberness; and whatever else of merit my remarks may lack, I trust you will do me the justice to believe that they emanate from an honest heart.
Our good historian, Captain Strouss, has relieved me of the necessity of going into history, and I shall confine my remarks to the trials and triumphs of the grand regiment to which we had the honor to belong. I need not speak of the causes that led to the war, for they were so well understood by every man who marched in the ranks that they are as familiar as household words. We are met here today as Pennsylvanians on Pennsylvania soil, on one of the greatest battlefields of the war; and I propose to speak of the part Pennsylvania and more particularly the part the 57th regiment, took in suppressing the rebellion.
When war came, it found us ill prepared. We had a little army scattered throughout the territories; a weak navy, lying at anchor in distant waters; a bankrupt treasury, and a government without credit. What added to the uncertainty of the result, the people of the North were divided on party issues, and many honest men believed that there was no power in the Constitution to coerce a State. All these difficulties confronted President Lincoln, and he was appalled at their magnitude. He called upon the Governors of several of the loyal States to counsel with him in his dread emergency. They met at the White House. The President informed them of the terrible cloud that hung like a pall over our fair land, and asked their advice about issuing a proclamation, calling upon the people for troops to put down the rebellion, and with his hands folded behind him awaited their answer. The six or seven Governors who formed his auditors had each expressed his opinion, but they were punctuated by too many "ifs" or "ands." While this was going on, Governor Andrew G. Curtin, fresh from his mountain home, stood looking through the window. He had not yet been approached by the President, personally. There was profound but awful silence in that small but thoughtful party of distinguished men.
President Lincoln finally broke the silent spell, and, turning to Governor Curtin, said: "Governor, what will Pennsylvania do, if I issue my proclamation?" Silence more profound prevailed. It was a momentous question. It seemed as if the fate of a nation depended upon the reply about to be made. Manifest destiny seemed trembling in the balance. Governor Curtin faced the President and said: "What will Pennsylvania do? Why, sir, if you issue your proclamation, Pennsylvania will give you a hundred thousand men in one week." Thank God for that noble answer! Truly Andrew G. Curtin was the right man in the right place. He was the Richelieu who thwarted the conspirators of the American rebellion.
But how did the boys of 1861 fulfill the promises of Governor Curtin? The call to arms came, and before that tornado of patriotism which followed, "men came as the winds come when forests are rended; came as the waves come when navies are stranded." You all know the story: how the flag went down amidst the smoke of battle; how the fight was long and bloody; how, finally, the great waves of Secession, Slavery and Rebellion rolled across our bordering line and rebaptised the soil of Pennsylvania with the blood of patriots. And then,
"Through every vale and glen,
Beating like resolute pulses,
She feels the tread of men;
But she stands like an ocean break-water
In fierce rebellion's path,
To shiver its angry surges
And baffle its frantic wrath.
And the tide of Slavery's treason
Dashed on her in vain,
Rolling back from the ramparts of freedom,
In the land: of 'Mad Anthony Wayne.'"
I will not attempt to recount the deeds of the soldiers of Pennsylvania; to do so would be to repeat the history of the war. For with but few exceptions there is not a battlefield from Gettysburg to Mobile where the ground has not been stained with the blood of the soldiers of Pennsylvania. There is not a State, loyal or insurrectionary, which was the seat of war, that does not hold within it the honored and sacred remains of the slain heroes of Pennsylvania. When Beauregard first trained his murderous guns upon Fort Sumter, Pennsylvania was there. Pennsylvania volunteers were the first to reach the National Capitol. We were at Appomattox when traitors fired their last volley; and in all those terrible intermediate struggles in every rebellious State, in every important battle on land or water, where treason was to be confronted or rebellion subdued, the soldiers and sailors of Pennsylvania were ever found, confronting the one and conquering the other. Therefore, it was in true historic order that the wicked struggle to terminate the Union should culminate upon our soil, that its topmost wave should be dashed against our Capital; that its decisive defeat should be secured here where literal bulwarks of upheaved slain preserved the North from the despoiling foot of a traitor, and, accordingly, the rebellion staggered back from Gettysburg to its grave. Remember that at Gettysburg the blood of the people of eighteen loyal States, rich, precious blood, mingling together, sank into the soil of Pennsylvania, and by that red covenant she is pledged for all time to Union, to Patriotism and to Nationality.
Comrade, with a record like this have we not much to be proud of? Such heroism as I have recounted is too sublime for the common language of humanity; a heroism which is patriotic, and a heroism which is heroic; a heroism which blends in beautiful symmetry the moral and the physical; a heroism which will shine with increasing luster as generations pass away. No longer need we look back through the centuries for deeds of noble daring. We can point with pride to our own record in the great War of the Rebellion for achievements that will rival Spartan valor or Roman fortitude.
The 57th regiment was organized early in the fall of 1861, at Camp Curtin, Pennsylvania, and in December of that year was ordered to Washington and went into camp on the Bladensburg pike, near the old toll gate, and subsequently became a part of the Army of the Potomac. From that time until you were mustered out, the history of the Army of the Potomac was your history. You received your first baptism of fire at Yorktown on April 11, 1862, and from that time until the close of the war you participated in every important engagement of that Army, excepting Antietam. That you did your duty faithfully and well your list of casualties will prove. The records of the War Department show that in every engagement you lost men and in some of them from forty to sixty per cent. of the whole number engaged. The original strength of the regiment was eight hundred and fifty men, and your casualties were over eight hundred during the war; and at the final muster out but one of the original officers of the regiment remained to be mustered out with you, Chaplain W. T. McAdam.
I will now quote from the speech of Hon. Chauncey Depew, before the Society of the Army of the Potomac. He says: "Each of the great armies had its distinguishing merit; but in the achievements and in the records of the Western forces, following the precedent of previous wars, are largely represented the genius and personality of great commanders." To the Army of the Potomac belongs the unique distinction of being its own hero. It fought more battles and lost more in killed and wounded than all others; it shed its blood like water to teach incompetent officers the art of war, and political tacticians the folly of their plans; but it was always the same invincible and undismayed Army of the Potomac. Loyal ever to its mission and to discipline, the only sound it gave in protest was the cracking of the bones as the cannon balls ploughed through its decimated ranks. A good soldier does full honor to his adversary. Although Americans on the wrong side, no more formidable force of equal number ever marched or fought than the Army of Northern Virginia, and it had the rare fortune of being always under the command of one of the most creative and accomplished military minds of his time, Gen. Robert E. Lee.
To conquer and capture such an army the captain of the Army of the Potomac must overcome what the greatest tactician has said was impossible, "an armed enemy in his own country," with the whole population venomously hostile; acting as spies; furnishing information, removing supplies; preparing ambuscades, and misleading the invaders. But it did accomplish this military miracle. It was hard and trying to be marched and countermarched for naught; to be separated and paralyzed at the moment when a supreme effort meant victory; to be hurled against impassable defenses, and then waste in repairing the mistake. The Army of the Potomac, was composed of thinking bayonets. Behind each musket was a man who knew for what he was fighting, and who understood the plan of campaign, and with unerring and terrible accuracy sized up his commander. The one soldier in whom he never lost confidence was himself.
This army operated so near the Capitol that Congressmen and newspapers directed its movements, changed its officers and criticised its failures to conquer on blue lines penciled on Washington maps. It suffered four years under unparalleled abuse, and was encouraged by little praise, but never murmured. It saw all its corps and division commanders sign a petition to the President to remove its general, and then despairingly but heroically marched to certain disaster at his order. It saw its general demand the resignation or court martial of its corps or division officers, and yet, undemoralized and undismayed, it charged under his successor in a chaos of conflicting commands. "On to Richmond!" came the unthinking cry from every city, village and cross roads in the North. "On to Richmond!" shouted grave Senators and impetuous Congressmen. "On to Richmond!!" ordered the Cabinet. No longer able to resist the popular demand, the raw and untrained recruits were hurled from their unformed organizations and driven back to Washington. Then, with discipline and drill, out of chaos came order; the self-deserting volunteer has become an obedient soldier; the mass has become moulded into a complex but magnificent machine; and it was the Army of the Potomac! Overcoming untold difficulties, fighting with superb courage, it comes in sight of the spires of Richmond, and then, unable to succeed, because McDowell and his corps of thirty thousand men are held back, it renews each morning and carries on every night in retreat the Seven Days' Battle for existence; and, brought to bay at Malvern Hill, asserts its undaunted spirit in hard won victory. It follows Pope and marches and falls back; pursues enemies who are not before it, and finds foes for which it is unprepared, and fights and is beaten under orders so contradictory and councils so divided, that an army of European veterans would have disbanded. Immediately, it recognizes a general in whom it has confidence. The stragglers come from the bush and the wounded from the hospitals; regiments, brigades, divisions and corps reform, and at Antietam it is invincible and irresistible.
Every man in the ranks knew that the fortified heights of Fredericksburg were impregnable, that the forlorn hope would charge, not into the imminent deadly breach, but into a death trap, and yet with unfaltering step this grand army salutes its blind commander and marches to the slaughter!
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs but to do and die!"
Every private was aware of the follies of the Rappahannock campaign. He knew that the opportunity to inflict an irreparable blow upon the army of Lee had been trifled away, and that after reckless delays to make a movement which at first would have been a surprise, conceived by the very genius of war, was then mere mid-summer madness; and yet this incomparable army, floundered through swamps, lost in almost impenetrable forests, outflanked, outmaneuvered, outgeneraled, decimated, no sooner felt the firm hand of Meade than it destroyed the offensive and aggressive power of the Confederacy in the three days' fighting at Gettysburg.
At last, this immortal army had at its head a great Captain, who had never lost a battle. Every morning for thirty days came the order to storm the works in front and every evening for thirty nights the survivors moved to the command of "By the left flank, forward!" and at the end of that fateful month, with sixty thousand comrades dead or wounded in the Wilderness, the Army of the Potomac once more, after four years, saw the spires of Richmond. Inflexible of purpose, insensible to suffering, inured to fatigue and reckless of danger, it rained blow on blow upon its heroic but staggering foe; and the world gained a new and better and freer and more enduring republic than it had ever known, in the surrender of Appomattox. All the trials and triumphs, all the hardships and privations, all the defeats and humiliations I have enumerated you shared in common with the Army of the Potomac.
In addition to this, in March, 1864, upon the reorganization of the army, the grand old 3d corps, to which you belonged, was broken up; a corps with a name and a record as brilliant as any organization in the army, a corps that had furnished a galaxy of names second to none in brilliancy; such names as Heintzelman, Hamilton and Sickles, Kearny and Hooker, and Birney and Berry. You must lose your identity, and were ordered to lay off the badge which you had honored, the old diamond which you loved; the badge that was put there in obedience to the orders of the dashing Kearny, and in its stead put on the badge of another corps. Against these humiliating orders there was no insubordination, no murmur, or protest; but with heroic courage you marched to victory under other officers and as a part of another organization. You asked the powers to allow you to wear the old badge, and, thanks to General Grant's love of fair play, you were allowed to retain the old diamond, and from that time until the surrender in every game of war diamonds were trump, and if you did not have a full hand, you could always be depended on to take a trick. Another humiliation which you had to endure as a regiment was in January, 1865, when the regiment, having been greatly reduced in strength by the severity of the summer's campaign, was, in obedience to special orders of the War Department, dated January 11, 1865, broken up and consolidated into a battalion of six companies, and you saw your officers who had risen from the ranks, officers of your own choosing, officers whom you loved, mustered out and sent home as supernumeraries. Like Moses of old, who was not permitted to gaze upon the Promised Land, so some of your officers, after nearly four years of war, after having passed through more than a score of battles, after having endured all the hardships and privations that I have enumerated, within sixty days of reaching the goal for which they had been fighting, were mustered out and were not permitted with you to stand at Appomattox and gaze upon the shattered relics of the Southern Confederacy.
Comrades, if I had the time I would like to name each loved comrade who fell in battle, died of wounds or sank down from exhaustion on the weary march; and those who died a lingering death of starvation in prison pens, or died of disease in some hospital, far from home and mother and friends, and who lie scattered through the South, in graves that only God shall know until the resurrection morning. I would like to follow you from the time of your enlistment until the time the regiment came home, few and worn, with many a powder breath upon its flag and many a bullet hole through its folds. I would also speak of Sides and Neeper and Perkins and Lyons and Hill and McCartney and Morse and Crossley and Comstock and Burns and scores of others who seemed to have borne charmed lives and who were discharged and sent home when the war was over, but who have at last been mustered out. They have passed to the other side of the silent river. They have been made noble by God's patent. They have responded to the roll-call among men for the last time, until that day when the names of all the living and the dead shall be sounded before the Great White Throne.
I would go back through the haze of years to hear the rattling drums, the bugle's call, the loud hooray, the tramp of soldier boys. I see the waving flags, the red cheeked lads, the bearded men; I see long lines marching out to do and die; I hear the mothers' cries, the sobs of wives, the sisters' wail, the sweethearts' moan; and then comes waiting, day by day and night by night, the women in darkened homes, the men amidst the dangers of the field. Today is hope; tomorrow comes the news, the dreadful news, the battle's crash, the roar of guns, the din of war, the sharp command, the fire and smoke, the whirl, the charge, the awful shock, the iron hoof, the swinging sword, the gush of blood, the piteous groan, the dying hero and the dead. Oh, bitterness of victory! Oh, homes made desolate! How many hearts the battle breaks that never laid a hand to sword! How many tears must flow for wrong from eyes that only saw the right! The lesson that we read in blood is one we never can forget, and God has taught us this, as long ago he taught the lesson of the cross. Not for his friends alone was that blood shed, but for his enemies as well; and by this latter blood not one but all of us shall live; and on foundations firm as heaven itself the new Republic rises strong and towering upward to the sky; its glistening summits lift their points until they touch the far off blue, and overtopping all the world, they stand up clear against the clouds, so that the very lowest down may see, and, seeing, know that what they see is Freedom's home.
After nearly four years of war, with the great Rebellion subdued, with not an armed enemy within our borders, the 57th Pennsylvania Volunteers was mustered out June 29, 1865, and we write "finis" on the last page of the military history of one of the grandest organizations that ever took up arms for the preservation of a "Government of the people, for the people and by the people."
Upon separating for your homes, your officers issued an address to the surviving members, from which I quote: "Parting as a band of brothers, let us cling to the memory of those tattered banners under which we have fought together and which, without dishonor, we have just now restored to the authorities, who placed them in our hands. Till we grow gray-headed and pass away, let us sustain the reputation of this noble old regiment." That you have observed the injunction of your officers in that address, the testimony of your neighbors in every place in which you have lived since the war will prove. When you were discharged you had but one ambition. In that one supreme moment of triumph, your only thought was of home and family and friends. You went back into the localities from which you came, into the ranks as citizens; taking up the daily burden of life where you had thrown it down when enlisting, ceasing to be soldiers and becoming again private citizens. There was no evidence of the contaminating influence of camp life in your characters. There was no disorder where you went. On the contrary, your presence became the sign of order. You showed the world that great as you had been as soldiers, you had never forgotten that you were citizens.
Most speakers who have made similar addresses upon this great battlefield of the war have made more extended remarks upon the movements of the army during the three days' fighting here, and some have censured certain commanders. The battle of Gettysburg has given rise to a great many controversies, and each commander has been censured and complimented in turn. Doubleday charges that Howard's troops gave way; Howard affirms that Doubleday's troops broke. General Meade is charged with ordering a retreat. One speaker charges that General Sickles made a great blunder in taking up a position too far in advance, which well nigh proved disastrous to our army. With all these charges I have nothing to do. I am not here to censure or find fault. I have only to do with the part you took as a regiment. Whether, as some speakers claim, Sickles saved the day and gained a victory by taking and holding an advanced line on July 2d, until the Roundtops could be occupied, or whether, as others assert, Hancock, the "Superb," gained the victory by brilliant generalship and magnificent fighting on the 3d, I will leave the historian to decide. Suffice it to say, the 57th did her duty by obeying orders, and that is all that is required of any soldier or set of soldiers. You went as far as the farthest and left seventy per cent. of your number behind, when you were obliged to abandon the line. In regard to the movements of the 3d corps, I will simply read what President Lincoln wrote to General Sickles in reply to a request that a court of inquiry should be convened to inquire into his conduct during the battle. The President writes:
"My Dear Sickles: You ask for a court of inquiry. They say you took up an advanced position on July 2d. They say you crowded the enemy and brought on an engagement. I guess what they say is true; but, thank God, you gained a great victory. There were honors enough won at Gettysburg to go all round. History will do you justice. Don't ask for a court of inquiry.
[Signed] A. Lincoln."
Comrades, in all countries and in all ages the people have reared monuments to the memory of their dead heroes; their deeds of valor have been told in song and story, and the people have delighted to do them honor. The great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, recognizing the services of her brave soldiers, during the sitting of the last Legislature passed an act appropriating fifteen hundred dollars to build a monument to each regiment that participated in the battle of Gettysburg. In accordance with the provisions of that act, Capt. D. W. Gore, Capt. H. H. Nelson, Lieut. George Miller, Comrade Theodore Catlin and myself, were elected as a committee by the surviving members of the regiment to select the location, submit designs, and erect a monument.
We organized at Gettysburg by electing your speaker chairman, and Captain Gore secretary. Not knowing the magnitude of the work before us, July 2d was agreed upon as the day upon which our monument should be dedicated. Scattered as the members of the committee were, over two States and the District of Columbia, thus rendering it difficult to convene them, it was thought best that the chairman and secretary be authorized to act for the committee. The labor and expense thus devolved upon us have been considerable. We have been met with many and unlooked for obstacles; but one by one they have been overcome, and the result of our work is before you.
As chairman of your committee, in the name of the taxpayers of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I present you with this beautiful monument, which will stand while generations pass away, as a monument to the valor and patriotism of the 57th regiment, and to the generosity of the citizens of this grand old State. Pennsylvania honors herself in thus honoring the memory of those who fell in her defence. We dedicate this memorial shaft, not to those who fell at Gettysburg alone, but to the eight hundred who were swallowed up by the tide of death on other fields; in prison pens, in hospitals, and on the lonely picket line. We dedicate it to every member of that grand old regiment, either living or dead. We dedicate it to our children and our children's children forever.
And when the few of us who yet survive shall have passed on to "join the innumerable caravan," may coming generations, as they gather 'round this granite shaft and read the record chisled here, learn lessons of patriotism and heroic devotion and here may they gain inspiration and strength, which shall make them brave defenders of their country's institutions and her flag, which we so much love.
Comrades, I cannot refrain from saying a few parting words to you. As I look over this audience, I am reminded that the boys of 1861 are now men on the down-hill side of life. The hand of time has silvered the hair and plowed deep furrows in the cheeks of the comrades I see gathered about me, and this will probably be the last roll-call to which a considerable number of the old regiment will respond. Soon these pleasant meetings, these delightful and hallowed associations, with each and all of us must come to an end. Let us live all the more closely together, then, in the brief road that remains to us. Let us be truer to our common name and common fame, so that we shall leave nothing behind us which will tarnish the polished and war-worn escutcheons of the grand old 57th regiment. Let us continue to be good citizens. Let us lead such lives that when we hear the last tattoo and the lights are ordered out on earth, we shall be awakened by the reveille at the tent of the Great Commander and bidden to seats at Headquarters.
The following is a letter from General Longstreet to General Sickles:
Gen. D. E. Sickles, Gettysburg, Pa.:
My Dear General Sickles: My plan and desire was to meet you at Gettysburg on the interesting ceremony attending the unveiling of the Slocum monument; but today I find myself in no condition to keep the promise made to you when last we were together. I am quite disabled from a severe hurt in one of my feet, so that I am unable to stand more than a minute or two at a time. Please express my sincere regrets to the noble Army of the Potomac, and to accept them, especially, for yourself.
On that field you made your mark that will place you prominently before the world as one of the leading figures of the most important battle of the Civil War. As a Northern veteran once remarked to me: "General Sickles can well afford to leave a leg on that field."
I believe that it is now conceded that the advanced position at the Peach Orchard, taken by your corps and under your orders, saved that battlefield to the Union cause. It was the sorest and saddest reflection of my life for many years; but, today, I can say, with sincerest emotion, that it was and is the best that could have come to us all, North and South; and I hope that the nation reunited, may always enjoy the honor and glory brought to it by that grand work.
Please offer my kindest salutations to your Governor and your fellow-comrades of the Army of the Potomac.
Always yours sincerely,
[Signed] James Longstreet,
Lieut.-Gen. Confederate Army.