Our picket line was a mile or two out toward Charlestown. While on one of these picketing details, while the first relief was on, Frank Garland suggested that, if possible, we slip through the line, go to the front and see if we couldn’t pick up something good to eat. We succeeded in passing the pickets and pointed for a farm house a half mile ahead. For a time no one responded to our knocks and helloes. At last a plump, red cheeked modest girl, of perhaps sixteen, appeared. We enquired for apples and told her if she would fill our haversacks, we would be glad to pay for them. She took them and soon returned with them filled with eatable apples. We paid her the price charged and started back. We admitted to one another that it was not a prudent act and would go hard with us if we should be picked up. On our way back Garland glanced to the left, and said, “There’s reb cavalry!” I looked, and there, perhaps an eighth of a mile away, was a squad of horsemen, coming on a canter toward us. We were near a substantial rail fence on the right, and for it we sprang with all our powers. We went over it like circus performers, and put in our best strides for our line. I think it was Garland that first discovered that the “men on horseback” were negro farm hands. They had seen our lively retreat and accurately interpreted the cause, and they were with their mouths open as wide as their jaws would admit, haw-hawing near the point of splitting. On this discovery we slowed down, and sauntered toward our picket line as unconcerned as possible, but the pickets had seen the performance, and at first had been misled as we were. As we came in we proposed to go straight to the reserve where the detail from our regiment was. The officer in charge refused this and sent us under a guard of two men and a corporal to headquarters. We steered the corporal to the shelter tent of Capt. Bull and explained the situation to him. He took it in, and, with a large assumption of military dignity, informed the guard that he would relieve them of any further duty in the matter, and they could go back to the front. Garland and I were glad to divide our apples with Bull and the others who knew of our adventure. It was one of the worst scares I had in the service, and cured me of any attempt at foraging outside the lines.
Gen. Walker says, “The only episode which interrupted the pleasant monotone of rest and equipment, after the fatigues of the Manassas and Antietam campaigns, was a reconnaissance conducted by Gen. Hancock with the first division Oct. 16th down the valley to Charlestown, with the view to discovering whether the enemy were there in force.” We met a battery supported by cavalry, which fell back as we advanced. The captain of this battery was B. H. Smith, Jr. and was wounded. We found him in a house at Charlestown with a foot amputated. We spent the night in Charlestown, and while there many of the boys visited the tree where John Brown had his taking off Dec. 2, 1859.
On the 25th of October, I wrote a letter home from which I quote, “The whole regiment cannot turn out over 50 or 60 charter members. I will give you a list of Co. “C,” which left Hamilton but little over one year ago full of hope and great expectation. Today we have present Capt. Broady, broken in mind and body by hardship and disease; Serg. Isaac Plumb, well and in good spirits; Serg. C. A. Fuller, ditto; Serg. D. W. Skinner, suffering from old wound, and who will be discharged; Portner E. Whitney, pioneer, good soldier; George Jacobs, private, cooking for the company; Junius Gaskell, sick most of the time; Charles Richards, paroled prisoner, sees no duty; Freeman Allen has a bad leg; Rufus Rundell, in quartermaster’s department—always has been; John Boardman, drummer. Where are the other 80? Some 10 or 11 killed, three times that number wounded, 10 dead of disease, 8 or 10 discharged, and the remainder sick in hospitals. Ike and myself are the only ones of that ninety odd, who have been in every engagement with the regiment, and he was not carrying a gun at Fair Oaks. Lieut. Keech is the only line officer who has been in all the regiment’s battles. This may seem incredible, but it is nevertheless true—some would miss this battle and some that, and so, but one has missed none.”
On the 29th of October, 1862, our army broke camp and moved in the direction of Warrenton, which place we reached on the 11th of November. In making this march the Sixty-first skirmished over the mountains at Snecker’s Gap, driving back a body of cavalry that was observing, if not holding this position. From the ridge of the mountain we had a view that in my judgment could not be equaled in Europe.
While the army was at Warrenton the order came removing McClellan and appointing Burnside. For one I was glad of any change—it seemed to be that no one could be more inefficient than McClellan. I remember so expressing myself which was not a popular notion. One old Irishman of Co. A, turned on me in hot anger, and asked, “Why do you say that? What do you know about war, you little damned pie eater!”
In a few days we started out and reached Falmouth, a hamlet nearly opposite Fredericksburg on the Rappahannock river on the 17th of November. There were but a handful of rebels on the other side of the river. There was no attempt to ford it, and we went into camp, while Lee’s army soon concentrated about Fredericksburg. Our camp was located in the woods, which we partially cleared, converting the timber into walls for our huts, which we covered with our shelter tent canvass. In a few days we had comfortable quarters. Part of the time the weather was quite cold. Snow was on the ground, and the brook that ran near by was more or less covered with ice. I remember going down to this brook one Sunday morning with Portner E. Whitney. We took off our clothing and had a bath in that ice cold water. We were in this camp for several weeks, and in it had first rate good times. Near to us was a Pennsylvania regiment, (I forget the number) in which a “revival of religion” prevailed. Meetings were held continuously and it was reported that many were converted. I think this regiment suffered severely in the great slaughter of the 13th of December.
Quite early in December indications multiplied that a movement was contemplated. Three days rations were ordered to be kept constantly in the haversacks. Charles Lowell, our hospital steward, told me that the surgeons had received orders to put in good condition the operating instruments, and frequent inspections made sure that enough ammunition was in the boxes.
On Thursday, Dec. 11th, at 4 a. m., reveille beat, after roll call the men were told that they must be ready to break camp on short notice. At 6 a. m. the regiment formed on the color line, ready to move. While we were thus waiting, I was smoking my briarwood pipe, and, at what I supposed was the end of the smoke, I threw out the ashes and put the pipe in my breeches pocket. In a short time I was conscious of a change of temperature in that locality, and hastily brought to view the pocket and pipe. Doubtless some of the fire remained in the bowl, which got out and set fire to that part of my clothing. I had no trouble in extinguishing this ignition, but the pocket was gone and my leg had a raw spot.
At this time the Army of the Potomac was organized in three grand divisions as follows: Right Grand Division, Sumner’s, embracing the Second and Ninth corps; Center Grand Division, Hooker’s, Third and Fifth corps; Left Grand Division, Sixth and First corps. Gen. D. N. Couch commanded the Second corps; Hancock the First Division, and Caldwell the First brigade of the corps.
While in this camp that we were about to leave I had the honor to be the object to which a brief utterance was directed by Gen. Hancock. I was then a sergeant, and had been ordered to brigade headquarters with a squad of men for guard duty. On the day in question, Gen. Sumner reviewed his Grand Division. After the guard had got to its place, one of Caldwell’s staff came to me and said, “When the general comes along you will fall in your guard and present arms.” I had some eight or ten men with me, and told those not on duty to be on hand to fall in when so ordered. Presently I heard a horse coming down the road on a sharp gallop, and soon saw that it was Gen. Hancock with a single orderly. Evidently he was not on the lookout for a little guard to salute him, but I fell in the men as briskly as possible. The general noticed what I was doing, and had to wait a moment for the guard to present arms, which it did all right. Hancock returned the compliment, and then said to me, “If you want to salute, sir! you must be a ‘damned sight quicker’ than this!” If I had dared to, I would have answered, “Don’t you worry yourself, Winfield Scotty, I don’t want to salute you, and wouldn’t now, if I had not been ordered to.”