If it had been hard to leave our comrades of the Army of the Potomac, it was harder to sever the close comradeship of our own regiment, a relationship formed and cemented amidst the scenes that try men's souls, a comradeship born of fellowship in privation, danger, and suffering. I could hardly restrain my tears as we finally parted with our torn and tattered colors, the staff of one of which had been shot away in my hands. We had fought under their silken folds on three battle-fields, upon which we had left one-third of our number killed and wounded, including a colonel and three line officers and upward of seventy-five men killed and two hundred and fifteen wounded. Out of our regiment of one thousand and twenty-four men mustered into the service August 14, 1862, we had present at our muster out six hundred and eighteen. We had lost in battle two hundred and ninety-five in killed and wounded and one hundred and eleven from physical disability, sickness, etc., and all in the short space of nine months. Of the sixteen nine-months regiments formed in August, 1862, the One Hundred and Thirtieth and ours were the only regiments to actively participate in the three great battles of Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, and we lost more men than either of the others.
I should mention a minor incident that occurred during our stay in Harrisburg preparing for muster out. A large number of our men had asked me to see if I could not get authority to re-enlist a battalion from the regiment. I was assured that three-fourths of the men would go back with me, provided they could have a two weeks' furlough. I laid the matter before Governor Curtin. He said the government should take them by all means; that here was a splendid body of seasoned men that would be worth more than double their number of new recruits; but he was without authority to take them, and suggested that I go over to Washington and lay the matter before the Secretary of War. He gave me a letter to the latter and I hurried off. I had no doubt of my ability to raise an entire regiment from the great number of nine-months men now being discharged. I repaired to the War Department, and here my troubles began. Had the lines of sentries that guarded the approach to the armies in the field been half as efficient as the cordon of flunkies that barred the way to the War Office, the former would have been beyond the reach of any enemy. At the entrance my pedigree was taken, with my credentials and a statement of my business. I was finally permitted to sit down in a waiting-room with a waiting crowd. Occasionally a senator or a congressman would break the monotony by pushing himself in whilst we cultivated our patience by waiting. Lunch time came and went. I waited. Several times I ventured some remarks to the attendant as to when I might expect my turn to come, but he looked at me with a sort of far-off look, as though I could not have realized to whom I was speaking. Finally, driven to desperation, after waiting more than four hours, I tried a little bluster and insisted that I would go in and see somebody. Then I was assured that the only official about the office was a Colonel——, acting assistant adjutant-general. I might see him.
"Yes," I said, "let me see him, anybody!"
I was ushered into the great official's presence. He was a lieutenant-colonel, just one step above my own rank. He was dressed in a faultless new uniform. His hair was almost as red as a fresh red rose and parted in the middle, and his pose and dignity were quite worthy of the national snob hatchery at West Point, of which he was a recent product.
"Young man," said he, with a supercilious air, "what might your business be?"
I stated that I had brought a letter from His Excellency, Governor Curtin, of Pennsylvania, to the Secretary of War, whom I desired to see on important business.
"Where is your letter, sir?"
"I gave it up to the attendant four hours ago, who, I supposed, took it to the Secretary."
"There is no letter here, sir! What is your business? You cannot see the Secretary of War."
I then briefly stated my errand. His reply was,—