After the grand review, our regiment was ordered back into the forts again around Arlington.
It was not until October, 1865, that we marched down Pennsylvania avenue for the last time to take the cars for home. Our regiment had gone to the front 18 months before, 1500 strong and notwithstanding the fact that the 9th New York had been consolidated with us we were going home with but 500 men.
At the Baltimore & Ohio railroad depot, in Washington, a pathetic incident occurred. A dozen or more of the regiment who were yet in the hospitals came down to see us off. Among them were three or four one-legged men and as many minus an arm. What must have been the feelings of these men who had to be left behind, maimed and crippled for life?
Our regiment being principally from New York City we were sent there for disbandment and were quartered in some barracks at the battery for a couple of days.
One afternoon we marched up Broadway as far as the City Hall, where we were reviewed by the governor of the state and the mayor of New York.
The city had sent us a new stand of colors the year before and we were returning them, battle-scarred and tattered. My blood runs quicker as I recall the enthusiastic reception we received that afternoon from the crowds that lined Broadway.
Here and there was a group of veterans who had preceded us home. The old 63d, 69th and 88th New York regiments—Thomas Francis Meagher’s Irish brigade, with whom we had served in Hancock’s corps—and when any of these boys recognized us they went wild. There are two characteristics about an Irishman that I like. He is never lacking in enthusiasm or bravery.
After the review the regiment was ordered to proceed to Hart’s Island, where it was to be paid off and disbanded. We went by boat, and an amusing episode occurred as the regiment was marching aboard.
Big Ed. ——— of the band, who played one of those old-fashioned big brass horns reaching back over his shoulder about three feet, and which could be heard to the foot of the line of a brigade, had been out with the boys seeing the sights, and it is possible may have been a little unsteady of foot. At any rate, he took two or three steps backward when he marched on the boat, and in doing so missed the gang plank and dropped into the cool waters of the bay. He came up clinging to his horn and called lustily for help. The colonel and a couple of deck hands succeeded in landing him, horn and all.
The last man was finally aboard. The gang plank had been hauled in. The boatmen were casting off the big heavy ropes that held us to the dock, when a voice from shore shouted “Hold there!” The voice was that of a big, burly policeman. Behind him was a woman holding by one hand a boy of about 5 years of age, his curly golden locks floating out from under a little blue soldier cap. On the other side was a sweet-faced little girl.