Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens

A little band, with bronzed faces and manly hearts, returned home. Their glorious and unspotted record had preceded them. They needed no song of victory, and they desired no greater marks of honor than their simple silver crosses, the badge of their corps.

No incident worthy of note occurred until we reached Albany, where we left the cars and embarked upon the steamer Knickerbocker, an old dismantled craft, unfit for any purpose but the transportation of soldiers; whose decks were covered with mud an inch in depth, and whose doors having been thrown overboard, a free circulation of the rough November air was allowed in every part. The men had no rations, and some of them became clamorous; but order was soon restored, and rations of bread and ham with coffee were distributed. They could not, however, all be brought to a perfect state of quietude. Some were determined not to submit, and passed the night in carousal, while those soberly inclined tried in vain to sleep. The officers found lodging in the after cabin, where some in berths and some on the floor, we passed a restless night.

As we approached New York in the morning, the sky was hung with heavy clouds, and as we left our rickety old craft for terra firma, the rain poured in fresh torrents upon us. We marched through 14th street and Broadway to the Park. We were to remain in New York until six o'clock in the evening, and the Sons of Saratoga were to present us with a stand of colors and guidons. They commenced by presenting us with an excellent dinner, at which speeches were made by the committee, and responded to by Colonel McKean and others on our part.

Dinner over, the regiment was drawn up in front of the City Hall, where the ceremony of presenting the flags took place. The banner was an exquisite piece of work, of the richest fabric; a blue ground with elegant designs in oil. On one side was represented an engagement in which the American soldiers, led by Washington, were fighting under the old flag—thirteen stripes and the union jack. On the reverse was pictured the surrender of Burgoyne, at Saratoga, under the new flag—the stars and stripes—first unfurled in the goodly city of Albany, and first baptized in blood at the decisive battle of Bemis Heights, which resulted in the surrender of Burgoyne and the virtual success of the Revolution.

We had already a beautiful national flag, the gift of the patriotic young ladies of Mr. Beecher's seminary, at Saratoga.

The hour for departure arrived, and we crossed to Amboy by ferry. We were in New Jersey. We had heard disparaging things of the railroad management of this State, but we were now to realize the beauties of monopoly. We learned afterwards to respect New Jersey's soldiers, many of whom fought shoulder to shoulder with us, and were among the bravest of the brave, but we never forgave her railroads. The men were crowded into a number of shaky old cars, reeking with filth, and redolent of most noisome odors. It was in vain that we protested that these vehicles were unfit for transporting men; we were offered by the agent of the road the alternative to take these cars or remain where we were. We concluded to go on.

At four o'clock we had passed over the whole of the Camden and Amboy road. Another ferry crossed, and we were in Philadelphia. Glorious, generous, enlightened Philadelphia! Many of our men were sick when we left Saratoga, and the unaccustomed hardships, with the cold and rain thus far on the route, had greatly prostrated them. Many others had also been seized with violent illness, so that our single medical officer had been taxed beyond his strength in looking after the wants of the sick, while the little case of medicines with which we started from Saratoga was exhausted. Among the first acts of kindness of these excellent people was the care of our sick. A gentleman, with countenance beaming with benevolence, said to the doctor, "If you will get your sick together, we will conduct them to comfortable quarters, and see that they are well cared for." The heart of the surgeon leaped with joy at finding some one who could and would help to care for the poor fellows.

The sick being collected, our friend mounted a barrel and called to the soldiers to hear him a moment. "You are welcome," said he, "to Philadelphia, and to show you that we are glad to see you, it gives us pleasure to invite every man of you to partake of a warm breakfast which will be ready for you in a few minutes." This speech was greeted by three hearty cheers for Philadelphia.

The doctor soon had his sick removed to the Soldiers' Retreat, a place fitted up by the noble-hearted people of Philadelphia for the entertainment of soldiers passing through their city. The upper part of the building was arranged with exquisite taste and order for a hospital. Here were many sick men left by the various regiments which had passed through the city. Our sick boys were placed in beds, with expressions of gratitude that, notwithstanding their illness, their lot had fallen in pleasant places.

Presently the men were marched into the long saloon, where all took their places at the well spread tables. The repast being over, Colonel McKean called upon the men for three cheers for the Philadelphians; remarking that there need be no fear of raising the roof, for even should such an accident occur he doubted not these generous people would willingly replace it. Then came the cheers; and such cheers! only to be surpassed by the three more and then three more that followed.