Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens

Troops and trains reached the heights beyond Harper's Ferry at night, and on the following morning the line of battle was established at Halltown.

General Sheridan now assumed command. We knew little of him except that he had very successfully commanded the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac for the last three months, but we were satisfied that General Grant trusted to his generalship, and we had already learned enough of General Grant's knowledge of human nature to place confidence in the general of his choice.

One thing pleased us at the start. Our new general was visible to the soldiers of his command; wherever we went he was with the column, inhaling the dust, leaving the road for the teams, never a day or two days behind the rest of the army, but always riding by the side of the men. His watchful care of the details of the march, his interest in the progress of the trains, and the ready faculty with which he brought order out of confusion when the roads became blockaded, reminded us of our lamented Sedgwick. Another feature of the new administration pleased us. When the head-quarter tents of the commander of the Middle Military Division were pitched, there was one wall tent, one wedge tent and two flies. This modest array of shelter for the general and his staff was in happy contrast with the good old times in the Army of the Potomac, when more than eighty six-mule teams were required to haul the baggage for head-quarters of the army.

At Halltown we remained for a few days, gaining what we so much needed, rest. The air was delightfully cool and refreshing, and it seemed as though each particular breath was laden with health and strength.

We were rejoiced to see some of our Army of the Potomac cavalry joining us, and our army began to assume dimensions which filled us with confidence. We had now the Sixth corps, General Wright, two divisions of the Nineteenth corps under General Emory, and Hunter's "Army of Virginia," usually called the Eighth corps, under command of General Crook. Our cavalry consisted of Averill's force which had been in the valley, and we were now receiving two divisions from the Army of the Potomac, one in command of General Torbert, the other of General Wilson. The cavalry force was soon afterward organized, with General Torbert in command of the whole force, and Generals Custer, Averill and Merritt, each in command of a division.

On the tenth of the month we commenced our march up the Shenandoah Valley. No sooner had the sun made its appearance above the Blue Ridge than we found the day to be most intensely hot. Soldiers were falling along the roadside in great numbers overcome with the heat, and what added to the hardships of the day's journey was the want of water. The turnpike along which we marched was parallel with a fine stream of water on either side, but the water was so far distant as to be useless to the soldiers. Yet there were a few springs and wells at some distance from the road which supplied those who could leave the column.

We passed through Charlestown, the scene of the trial and execution of John Brown. There was the court house to which he was brought on his couch to receive his trial for treason, and there the jail in which he spent his last days, and from which he was led to execution. How had all things changed! The people who stood about the gallows of John Brown, and gnashed their teeth in their bitter hatred, were now themselves guilty of treason. The court house was in ruins, and the jail was but a shell of tottering walls. The town also had suffered fearful ravages from war, and now a Union army was marching through its streets, every band and every drum corps playing the stirring but to southern ears hateful air, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave," and we may anticipate our narrative to say that whenever our army or any part of it had occasion to pass through this town, the bands always struck up this air, as if to taunt the inhabitants with the memory of their victim, and played it from one limit of the town to the other. So John Brown was revenged!

The Shenandoah Valley has been often called the "Garden of Virginia," and truly it is a lovely valley, yet as we marched along we could see but little cultivation. The groves of oak were delightful. Teams with wagons might be driven anywhere among them. But the fields were mostly desolate. Here and there a field of corn promised a medium crop if left to ripen untrodden by our army, but there was no luxuriance of vegetation. The mountains, the Blue Ridge on one side and the North mountains on the other, rose abruptly from the valley in parallel lines, and looked as though a race of Titans had been at war, and had thrown up these long ridges as breastworks for opposing forces.

A little beyond Charlestown was a lovely meadow, lying between two groves of oak. At the further end of the meadow was a neat white cottage, where there seemed more comfort than we had seen elsewhere in the valley. The place was away from the direct line of march, and partly concealed by the groves.

Those who left the column were furnished by the family with pure sweet water from a well, which the family asserted was sunk by order of General Braddock. Such places were so rare that our men and animals suffered from thirst. Few who were on that march will forget a spring which we passed near the close of that day's march. A large white frame house stood upon an elevation, surrounded by trees, and at foot of the elevation, a large spring, under the shade of a huge willow, and surrounded by other trees. The water gushed out from a fissure in the rock, clear as crystal, and in such volume that a large brook was formed at once. Over the spring was the usual "spring house." Soldiers filled this building, covered the great rocks, crowded the grove, and for many yards around a dense mass of men pressed to get near the tempting fountain, all eager to fill their cups and canteens, and hasten on with the column. No one can know with what delight the soldiers quaffed the sparkling fluid from their sooty coffee pots, who has not suffered the torture of extreme thirst.