I was sent out to the lines again at noon and remained there until evening. My station was next to one of our batteries, which fired an occasional shell into the enemy's lines without provoking any reply. A wagon-load of muskets were picked up on the field, which I took back to head-quarters.
The losses in the Fifth Corps, in what was known as the battle of Poplar Spring Church, amounted to upwards of six hundred. After a feeble attempt by the enemy to assault our position on the evening of October first, the two opposing lines held their position for about three weeks. Our men strengthened their breast-works and the engineers built some redoubts. The balance of the ordnance train arrived and we established a camp. My tent was put up and our duties went on, as they had at the Globe Tavern. During the latter part of September and the first week in October, we again had an inordinate quantity of rain after the long summer drought, which made camp life miserable, the more so as the nights were getting cold.
In compliance with General Grant's order to extend the left of our army and gain possession of the Southside railroad, another important means of supply for the enemy, preparations for the movement were begun on the twenty-fifth of October. On that day I issued ammunition to the division; also arms to some newly arrived soldiers. On the morning of the twenty-seventh the movement commenced; the ordnance and other supply trains were ordered back to the Globe Tavern, there to await orders. As the troops marched off at daylight, a heavy rain fell which bade fair to continue. For nearly three weeks we had enjoyed beautiful weather and the roads were dry and dusty, until this movement started. The enemy's right was encountered about nine A.M. and spirited engagements took place during the day, but the attempt to gain the Southside railroad was a failure at this time. During the night of the twenty-seventh, and the morning of the twenty-eighth, the divisions of the Second and Fifth Corps, engaged in this attempt, were withdrawn to their former lines at Poplar Spring Church. The losses in the Second Corps were more than fourteen hundred, while those in the Fifth were two hundred and seventy-nine.
On the same day I was ordered to return to our camp at division head-quarters. While at this camp, I saw much of my company which was doing duty as provost guard at General Ayres's head-quarters. After the arrival of the army at Petersburg, the six skeleton companies of my regiment were consolidated into two. Company D, in which I had served for more than nine years, ceased to exist, and I became a member of Company C. These two companies, together with the remnant of the band, then did duty at division head-quarters.
On the thirty-first of October, General Grant ordered that all of the regular infantry, serving in the Fifth Army Corps, proceed at once to New York City and there report for orders to Major General Dix. This was cheering news for us. We presumed that we were to go there to keep the peace at the coming presidential election, for which Lincoln and McClellan were the candidates, and that we might be detained there for a while before returning to the field. I was kept busy for two days in transferring ordnance stores and making out the necessary papers, then I rejoined my company. Next morning, November second, 1864, at an early hour, all the regular infantry boarded a train composed of box and flat cars, waiting for us on the United States Military railroad, which conveyed us to City Point. Transports were ready for us, and by noon-time we were under way down the James river on the voyage to New York.
PART XIV.
Departure From the Field and Last Days of Service, 1865.
The voyage to New York was uneventful. We had the usual transport discomforts with some rough and cold weather and, on the second day before the election, we reached New York Harbor. The small battalion of the Second United States Infantry, consisting of half a dozen officers, about seventy-five men and a dog, landed at Fort Hamilton dock, along with about half the other troops on board. The remainder, as well as those on another transport, were distributed among various forts in the vicinity of New York. We marched to the fort with flying colors, but we had no band; the few remaining members of our band were doing other duty and Sergeant Lovell, the big drum-major, had been one of the color sergeants for more than a year. My company was quartered in one of the damp and gloomy casemates which had but a single window, or porthole, overlooking the bay.
On election day we were not allowed to go outside of the fort. Extra ammunition was issued and a thorough inspection of arms was held. A large ferry-boat remained at the dock the entire day to transport us to the city in case of a serious riot which, however, did not occur.
A few days later several soldiers in the company, including myself, secured passes to visit the city. We had to walk a long distance before reaching a horse-car line to take us to one of the ferries from Brooklyn to New York. While on this leave I visited my old friend, Sergeant Major Milligan, who was ill with consumption at his mother's house. The hardships of field service had been too much for his somewhat delicate constitution. It was the last time I saw him. He died within two weeks, much beloved, and his death greatly regretted by his comrades, who erected a modest but appropriate monument to his memory in New York Bay Cemetery.
During our short stay at Fort Hamilton, we performed regular garrison duty. I was sergeant of the guard a couple of times and one of these occasions I am not likely to forget. We mounted a strong guard and had sentinels posted all around the fort and the adjoining redoubt. The guard-room and prison were in casemates on the east side of the fort, on each side of a sallyport. At that time nearly fifty prisoners were in confinement—the toughest element I ever saw in the army. Some were general prisoners undergoing sentences—they wore a ball and chain; others were awaiting trial for various crimes; and there were, also, a small number of ordinary "drunks." It was customary to parade and call the roll of the prisoners in the morning when the guard was changed, and again at retreat in the evening, before they were locked up for the night.