As I have already remarked, while we were on duty at the Convalescent Camp, time hung heavily upon our hands, and quite a number of the members of the regiment who had “influential friends” in Washington obtained furloughs to visit home. Among those who sought the autograph of Drake DeKay, by whom all furloughs were signed, and whose signature looked as if it was written with his thumb about a month after a buzz-saw had got its work in on the first joint, was the “raw recruit” of Company B. Others received their furloughs, but mine tarried. I began to fear that my “influential friends” had “got left”—at home. One afternoon, as I was sitting in my tent ruminating as to how I would surprise my friends by coming home unexpectedly, particularly my family, and as to how I would spend my time while there, an orderly from the colonel’s headquarters came to our first sergeant and told him that the colonel wanted him to send a man there immediately. Our first sergeant knowing that I expected a furlough, and being willing to have a little fun at my expense, told me that the colonel wished to see me at once. Getting myself together in the best style I could at such short notice, and expecting to receive my furlough and start for home by the evening train, I speedily reported myself at the colonel’s quarters. Judge of my great surprise when, instead of the colonel stepping to the door of his tent with the coveted furlough in his hand, and politely requesting me to accept it with his compliments, and wishing me a pleasant visit home and a safe return, the aforesaid orderly informed me that the colonel wished me to go to the blacksmith’s and keep the flies off his horse while he was being shod. I obeyed orders as a matter of course, the flies were kept off, the horse was eventually shod, my furlough never came, and my ways of spending it at home were never realized. Such are the fortunes of war. The private soldier proposes, and the officer opposes—that is, as a general thing.
Chapter V.
“Jumping from the frying-pan into the fire,” the most of us thought when we reached Alexandria, after leaving the Convalescent Camp, and found that we were to be furnished with transportation to Norfolk on the old steamer “Hero,” which, as the “Argo,” ran between Providence and Rocky Point long “befo’ de wah.” We thought our accommodations could never be worse than they were when we landed at the “Soldiers’ Retreat” in Washington, but had a rivalry existed between the two concerns, the “Hero” would have most effectually distanced its competitor. It seemed, indeed, as if extra pains had been taken by somebody to make our condition as uncomfortable and unsatisfactory as possible. A cold rainstorm was prevailing when we went on board the steamer. There were no sleeping accommodations whatever for the men, and even the floor of the cabin which the officers occupied was covered with sheets of boiler-iron, strewn helter-skelter here, there and everywhere. The decks, where the men were huddled together like sheep, were covered with mud and water several inches deep, our clothing was damp, the air foul, and everything about as disagreeable as it could well be. If we had been left in the starch over night we could not have been more stiff the next morning than we were. Yet few complaints were heard, the men generally preferring almost anything to longer remaining to guard sick and disabled soldiers, especially where our room was better than our company.
In course of time—that is, very slow time—Norfolk was reached, and when transportation could be obtained we piled into freight cars and were soon on our way through the famous Dismal Swamp to Suffolk. Here we found the Fourth regiment, and the reception which the boys gave us was next to getting back to Rhode Island itself. I will not attempt to speak in detail of what was done at Suffolk by our regiment. It was the pleasantest place which we visited while we were away from home, and the service being more active than any which we had previously performed, it was more congenial and satisfactory to the men. Our camp was delightfully located, and the occasional sharp skirmishes which we had with the rebels, who were just across the Nansemond river, together with numerous expeditions to the Blackwater and thereabouts, served to keep the regiment in good condition and remove all apprehensions of demoralization because of inactivity.
There were a large number of Union troops at Suffolk before our arrival. The weather soon became very hot, and previous to their departure the deaths were numerous. Daily the solemn processions wended their way to the populous city of the dead. The funerals usually took place in the morning just before sunrise, or at night just after sunset. I seem now to hear the dirges played by the bands, and the volleys fired by the soldiers over the graves of their dead comrades.
Upon my return home, I learned that among those in the rebel army while I was at Suffolk was a young man who learned his trade with me in the “Chronicle” office in Pawtucket, and who went to Alabama several years before the “late unpleasantness.” At the close of the war he returned to the North and again became a loyal citizen.
On one of the expeditions to which I have referred, the Eleventh regiment marched to the extreme front, three miles from Blackwater bridge, throwing out Company F as pickets one mile in advance, who were soon engaged by the enemy, and a brisk skirmish ensued which lasted until dark, when hostilities ceased for that day. On the following afternoon, while three of the companies of the regiment were picketing the front, they were attacked in a spirited manner by six companies of a Mississippi regiment deployed as skirmishers. Company B was sent forward as a support, but soon deployed as skirmishers. The firing continued several hours, the enemy being steadily driven back, leaving their dead on the field. Several prisoners were captured. Obeying orders to fall back to Windsor, the picket companies acted as rear guard. On this expedition the regiment was absent from Suffolk eleven days, and was attached to the division under command of General Corcoran. This was the nearest approach to a hand-to-hand encounter with the enemy that the regiment had during its term of service, and the two Pawtucket companies occupied the most exposed and conspicuous positions.
It was at this time that Lieutenant Thomas Moies came near being shot by a man who belonged to one of the companies of the Eleventh which were in the rear of Company B. The affair to which I refer occurred just in the edge of the woods, between daylight and dark. Lieutenant Moies, with an old straw hat on his head, and in advance of his men, was cautiously crawling along on his hands and knees in the underbrush up to the enemy’s line. Having satisfied himself that the enemy was falling back, he rose up, and a member of Company C observing his hat mistook it for the head-gear of one of the rebels, as their uniform always lacked uniformity, and immediately fired. Fortunately for Lieutenant Moies, and to the great joy of the entire regiment, the man who fired failed to obey the stereotyped order to “fire low,” and the misdirected bullet went over the head of our esteemed lieutenant, and his valuable life was spared.