Ten years in the ranks, U.S. Army

by Augustus Meyers

A short time later I knew better than to take the foolish chance I had in making that march alone. In less than a week General Sykes's servant was shot dead by guerrillas and some teamsters were killed by them not far from camp. During the war many stragglers were killed by guerrillas, being reported missing or perhaps as deserters. In my own company, two men who were supposed to have fallen asleep by the roadside during a rest on a night march were never heard from.

On this day it was the turn of the Fifth Army Corps to be in the rear on the line of march, and my brigade was the last in the corps, which made it quite late in the morning before we started on the road. It was the custom, when it could be done and when a large part of the army was marching on the same road, for the corps in advance to-day to be in the rear to-morrow. This rule applied also to divisions, brigades, regiments and companies of regiments, the leading company to-day being the rear company to-morrow.

We marched by fours, and if there were fifty thousand men or more in line they extended for many miles, and it sometimes happened that the troops in the advance went into camp before those in the rear started on their march. Reveille, however, was sounded at the same time in all the camps, irrespective of their place in line. The supply trains with their guards often followed the troops on the same road and were very late getting into camp. Rations were then issued at night to the waiting, hungry soldiers. When the roads were very bad and conditions made it feasible, an army corps remained at rest in camp for a day avoiding the overcrowding of the road.

Marching with a large body of troops is very tedious and very annoying, when you are far to the rear of the line and the troops in front empty the wells and springs along the road and roil the rivulets and ponds to the extent of making water unfit to drink. When a halt occurred we did not know whether it was for a rest or only for a moment; a halt of a few minutes at the head of the line miles away multiplied itself many times before it reached the rear. If a piece of road had to be repaired, a stream forded or a bridge strengthened or repaired for the safe passage of artillery and cavalry, we were delayed for hours. Those in the rear knew nothing of the cause and wondered why we did not go on, expecting every moment to hear the bugle sound the call "forward." When we halted we stood still for a few minutes waiting to go on again, and if there was no indication of it among the regiments immediately in front of us, we broke ranks without orders and unslung our knapsacks and sat on them or lay on the ground by the roadside if it was dry, the officers doing the same—for all company officers had to march on foot. If the halt continued for a while the men soon began to straggle off in search of water and wood; if it was evening, soon many small fires were burning along the road and many were making coffee in their tin cups; and perhaps before the coffee boiled the bugle would sound the command to "fall in." We could not afford to throw away the coffee, partly made, but carried the cups in our hands to the next halting place and built another fire. We had become wise and put swinging handles on our cups, if we could find any wire for that purpose, to carry them more easily. A short delay at the head of the column became a long one in the rear, if the men broke ranks, for it required a little time to sling knapsacks and to take your place in line—very much like a tie-up on a long line of street-cars, when it seems a long time after the first one has started again before the last one moves. On night marches the afore-mentioned difficulties were greater, for tired out men fell asleep by the roadside and did not always hear the command "forward." If we missed them when forming ranks, we delayed a little and searched for them; if we did not, they had a chance of being picked up by the rear guard, or ran the risk of being captured by guerrillas.

We passed through New Kent Court House and reached Cumberland on the Pamunkey river long after dark. Sykes' division encamped on the heights overlooking the valley of the river, and there we saw a sight the grandeur of which can never be effaced from the memory of those who witnessed it. Below us on a great plain the entire Army of the Potomac was encamped, reunited for the first time since leaving Yorktown. Thousands upon thousands of camp fires were seen as far as the eye could reach in every direction. The sight was magnificent. We rested at Cumberland for a day and the army was reviewed by Secretary of State William H. Seward.

Our next march was to the White House, at the head of navigation on the Pamunkey. Here the river was crossed by a bridge of the Richmond and York River Railroad. The tortuous river was crowded with vessels, all loaded with supplies for the army, for the White House landing was to be our base of supplies while operating against Richmond, and the railroad partly destroyed by the Rebels was to be rebuilt to convey the supplies to the Chickahominy river. The White House was a large plantation, formerly the property of the wife of George Washington and at that time owned by the Lee family. General McClellan ordered safeguards to protect this estate from vandalism, but about a month later the fine mansion was destroyed by fire along with our supply depot, when the Union Army retreated to the James river. Our next camp was at Tunstall's Station, and two more short marches brought us to Gaines's Mill, north of the Chickahominy and about seven miles from Richmond.

All the way up the peninsula the country was deserted; about the plantations and farms no young men were to be seen, they had all joined the Rebel Army. Few negroes were visible; all but trusty house servants had been sent within the Rebel lines to prevent them from running away from their masters. Scarcely a horse or any other domestic animal was to be seen about the farms; they were either secreted or had been sent away.

During the first eighteen months of the war, orders against foraging or destroying any private property in the enemy's country were strictly enforced; in our division we were not even allowed to take fence rails for firewood, safeguards being placed at many of the more important plantations for their protection. After the invasion of Maryland by the Rebels in September, 1862, and the discovery that many of the houses along the route of the army harbored guerrillas who murdered our stragglers, the orders were no longer strictly enforced and but few safeguards were furnished. I believe it was twelve days or more from the evacuation of Yorktown before our advance troops reached the Chickahominy river, a distance of something less than fifty miles. The Northern papers criticized General McClellan very severely for his slow pursuit of the enemy; but there were few roads that this large army with its immense baggage and supply trains could travel; owing to constant and unprecedented spring rains they were in a horrible condition and had to be repaired in many places before the artillery and wagon trains could pass, and besides the bridges had to be rebuilt. The battle fought at Williamsburg caused a loss of two days also in our advance on Richmond.

The great stretches of pine woods on the peninsula made us familiar with a camp-pest we had not encountered before—the woodtick, a small bug which buried its head in the most tender parts of the skin of one's body, causing intense itching, swellings and sores. In the morning, while on the march, when the sun was shining, and we were in good spirits, some regiment would start up a song. I particularly remember that my regiment marched directly behind the "Duryee Zouaves" one morning when one of their fine singers started "The Mocking Bird," and presently the entire regiment, twice as large as ours, took up the chorus. It was beautiful, and it has ever since remained one of my favorite sings.

Gaines's Mill, where our camp was located, was a part of a large plantation owned by Dr. Gaines, a bitter Rebel who resided on the property in a large house that was protected by a safeguard. My brigade was encamped along the edge of the mill-pond, a body of stagnant water which received all the drainage of the camp and which was our only supply for cooking and drinking. No precautions of any kind were taken to prevent contamination of the pond; the soldiers bathed and washed their clothing in it. We dug some deep holes along the shore and allowed the water to seep into them, hoping in that way to filter it, but without perceptible results, for our sick list increased and we had some fatal cases of typhoid fever.