In a few days we started on our long march, passing through Minneapolis, and then in a northwesterly direction through a sparsely settled country to the town of St. Cloud, on the Mississippi, which dwindled to a small river at that point. Captain Deluzier Davidson, together with a lieutenant and a surgeon, were the officers of our detachment. I was still weak, but improved rapidly under the influence of the healthy atmosphere and the out-of-door life. I could not make a full day's march, however, although we carried no knapsacks; sometimes I rode the doctor's horse when he wanted to walk, or rode in one of the wagons when I was tired out. We did not attempt hard marches, but started at sunrise and generally encamped in the early afternoon, for Captain Davidson loved his ease and comfort, and there was no necessity to rush us along. At St. Cloud we rested for a day and washed our clothing in the river.
A day's march after we left St. Cloud all signs of settlements disappeared and we saw no more until we came to the town of Alexandria, a cluster of houses on a lake, about half-way between St. Paul and Fort Abercrombie. We were now in a country full of lakes, large and small, some of them were beautiful—the water clear and teeming with fish. When we arrived at the Otter Tail Lake, which was larger than any we had seen, we rested for another day and were amazed at the countless numbers of pelicans that we saw. These birds, when not fishing, rested on the islands in the lake, completely covering them, and from a distance it seemed as though they were covered with snow. We made a sort of seine out of feed bags, sewed together end to end, about twenty-five feet in length, and fastened to a stick at each end. Two men would wade into the lake for a short distance, extend this seine and drag it towards the shore, bringing with them many fish that struggled and wriggled when they got into shallow water, where we picked out with our hands such of them as we fancied.
Although we were in the country of the Chippawa Indian, we saw none of them until we reached Breckenridge, an old trading-post, where we met a few of the savages. Breckenridge was an easy day's march from Fort Abercrombie. We had just finished establishing our camp there for the night when several wagons and a small escort of soldiers arrived and halted for a while. They were from the fort on their way to St. Paul, and with them was Captain William M. Gardner of my company, going home on a six-months' furlough, accompanied by his wife and negro servants. They rode in a spring wagon (about the size of an ambulance) drawn by two horses. The captain was somewhat surprised to find me back in the army again. He talked with me for a long while and mentioned that he would make me a non-commissioned officer as soon as there was a vacancy in the company. He advised me to study with a view to being admitted to the military academy at West Point, and promised to use his influence, along with that of some other officers, to obtain for me an "appointment at large" from the President when I could qualify for admission. Much to my regret, I never saw Captain Gardner again. He resigned his commission before his furlough expired (while at his home in Georgia) and joined the Confederate Army.
The next day we arrived at Fort Abercrombie. The fort was situated on the west bank of the Red River of the North, which here marked the dividing line between Dakota and Minnesota Territories. This river flows north and empties into Lake Winnipeg in the British possessions, while the Mississippi, but little more than a hundred miles to the east, flows south. The Red river was but a small stream, navigable for canoes only. The most interesting thing about it and the Wild Rice river, a tributary a few miles away, were the dams built by beavers, which were plentiful on both rivers. Muskrats were also abundant.
The place was a fort in name only; it was in a bend of the river, whose course was marked by a fringe of woods in places, while all else was a bleak, level prairie as far as the eye could see. Two companies of my regiment had arrived here from Fort Randall in the spring and had built the customary log huts, which they were now occupying, in the woods on the low bottom-land of the river. Two other companies made the long march from Fort Laramie, via Fort Randall, and had arrived here in midsummer. These companies were engaged in building permanent quarters of hewn logs, with board floors and shingled roofs, on the plateau which formed the edge of the prairie. The soldiers' quarters consisted of one large room to house an entire company with a wing for the kitchen and mess-room. These buildings had not yet been completed upon our arrival and the two companies were in camp in Sibley tents. It was the end of September, the nights were getting cold and we had an occasional white frost in the morning; we were a few degrees further north than at Fort Pierre and on a higher elevation.
Our detachment of recruits was apportioned to the different companies and I rejoined Company D, in which I had served during my first enlistment. I missed a number of my old comrades—they had been discharged and had scattered throughout the West—but most of the former non-commissioned officers had re-enlisted. The first, or orderly sergeant, as he was also called, had me appointed as company clerk, which was an easy job and excused me from guard duty and from work upon the new quarters. This lasted for about two months, when we had a dispute and I was ordered back to do duty the same as any other private.
Fort Abercrombie was a dreary, lonesome place. The Chippawa Indians seldom came there and only in small parties and for a short stay. Their villages were much farther north—as far as Pembina, near the British lines.
A paymaster arrived at the post shortly after we did, accompanied by Major Irving McDowell, who was an assistant inspector general. He was a fine looking and apparently genial officer. He made a thorough inspection of the post and the soldiers. I little thought then that I would next see him in Washington after the battle of Bull Run, a defeated general. The commander of the post was Major Hannibal Day of the Second Infantry, a dignified old gentleman with long white hair and beard and a cold austere look in his eyes. The company commanders were Captains Christopher S. Lovell and Deluzier Davidson; a first lieutenant was in command of the third company, and my own was commanded by Second Lieutenant Wm. H. Jordan of the Ninth Infantry, who was temporarily attached to my regiment, our captain being absent on furlough and the first lieutenant on recruiting service in New York city. A few other second lieutenants and the surgeon made up the complement of officers at this time.
In October we began to have frosts and some snow; the Sibley tents were cold and uncomfortable, as no sheet-iron stoves had been provided and when we attempted to build fires in them the smoke drove us out. This led to various contrivances to warm our tents. In my own we dug a deep pit on one side and a covered trench with two lateral branches extending from it under the dirt floor, with openings outside of the tent for the smoke to escape from the fire which was built in the pit. This system of heating kept the tent comfortably warm except when the wind was contrary.
A great snow-storm and blizzard struck us in November and caused much suffering. Fortunately our quarters were completed about the end of the month; we moved in and enjoyed the comfort of sleeping in bunks on bedsacks filled with dried leaves, and warming ourselves at the two stoves with which our quarters were provided, although the large room except directly around the stoves was freezing cold. In January and February the thermometer sometimes fell to more than forty degrees below zero. We had a number of frost-bite cases in our little log-house hospital—some of them very severe—before our unsympathetic post commander issued an order to relieve all sentinels except Post No. 1, in front of the guard-house, who, with the temperature twenty degrees minus zero, was to be relieved every thirty minutes.