In Camp with L Company, Second Regiment New Jersey Volunteer Infantry

by George W. Petty

We were worrying about our wet blankets, which were strapped on top of our knapsacks, when we were ushered into Pullman sleeping coaches. It was an agreeable surprise and we immediately proceeded to ensconce ourselves in the most comfortable positions. In a short time, amid a lot of noise and banging of cartridges, we drew out of the depot, scurried out past camps and through groves, catching a glimpse of Torrey's rough riders, with whom we had left one of our number, out over rushing torrents, swelled to overflowing by the recent rains and covering vast areas with their yellow tumbling waters.

These we passed cautiously for fear of washouts. As we passed to the rear of Savannah it grew dark; but sitting musing at the window I could not help noting the wild, desolate region we were passing through. Here and there stood some giant tree stark naked in the moonlight and swaying from the branches, with gruesome effect, was that remarkable product of nature, Spanish or Florida moss, and I could not help recalling the shuddering stories told by Sherman's troopers of ghosts and dead men, clanking chains and bloodhounds of the Southern forest. The palmettos reared their shaggy heads in outline against the sky, for all the world like a jack-in-the-box of our childhood days; but I was here interrupted by my bedfellow, who insisted on my turning in, which I reluctantly did. But wasn't it jolly to lay on something softer than a plank? And after being served with our old stand-by, coffee, from a bathtub, we slept soundly.

We passed through Columbia, South Carolina, due north to Charlotte, North Carolina, and Salisbury, Greensboro, to Danville, Virginia, places made historic by Sherman and after the surrender at Appomattox. We stopped nearly an hour at Danville, and when we finally started again had a goodly stock of everything to eat. Up to this point we had passed acres of cotton in bloom, that farther south being taller and handsomer plants, and every stop brought portions of the royal plant of the South into the cars. In the early days of the Civil War the triumphant voice of the Confederacy proclaimed "King Cotton rules the earth." But before that strife of brothers ended the thunderous tones of the North drowned that in the South with "Corn, not Cotton, is King," and verily it proved so.

Lynchburg and Charlotteville, Virginia, ushered us into the tobacco district. But we saw very little of this plant, for it had just been gathered. Darkness settled down on us before reaching the latter town. Coffee awaited us there, and we were roused up at 10 o'clock to receive it in its virgin liquid purity. Nearly half the car as a result was awake all the rest of the night. At 4 a.m. on Saturday, we reached Washington and were greatly surprised and pleased to find that a bountiful lunch had been prepared for us by the good and thoughtful women of the Pension Bureau—grapes, apples, sandwiches and the best coffee we had had for five months. There will always remain in years to come one warm spot in the heart of each one of our boys for the patriotic devotion of these excellent women.

But now came a kaleidoscopic change. Instead of indifferently cultivated fields, barren wastes and swamps, behold here were fields teeming with corn and garden truck of all kinds. The farmers were out with their men hilling up the rows of celery, parsley and onions; fine pasture lands spread out before us; well fed cattle standing contentedly under drooping willows, and, to crown all, well built, substantial farm houses and barns, all denoted with an unmistakable stamp that which can be seen all through our Northern states—prosperity. Baltimore was reached at 7, Wilmington at 8, and Philadelphia at about 10 in the morning.

From Washington we had the extreme pleasure of going real fast, our train now running over the double tracks of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Speculation was rife as to when we would reach Sea Girt. Every stop or slow down would surely bring forth an impatient exclamation, and then wagers would be made all over again. But while this was going on we passed over the Delaware, and as the Jersey side was reached the enthusiasm vented itself in cheers, as we fully realized how near we were to home, and then how we did make time. We fairly seemed to fly, but it was all too slow, past farming-lands one acre of which was worth a dozen in the South; apple trees loaded with ripe fruit; fields of corn ready for the sickle, yellow pumpkins, savoring of delicious pies; these were familiar home scenes, but temporarily lost sight of in our recent surroundings; past historic New Brunswick, Freehold and Princeton. At about 1.30 we pulled into Manasquan with Camp Voorhees in plain sight. Here we unloaded and, escorted by the Fourth Regiment Band, marched to camp, where Company L was taken in tow by Company L of the Fourth, and so on through the battalion. But it was a sight to see the fine rosy potatoes they had and the butter, "all you want on your bread." We marveled greatly, to say the least. This lunch was quickly over, and we boarded our section again. After several tedious waits we finally reached Rutherford a little before 7 in the evening, amid red fire and exploding crackers.

Through a dense mass of humanity the company marched. The scenes attending our leaving for the war were again enacted, but with three-fold vigor. Our relatives and friends struggled desperately to break through and forcibly grasp some husband, brother or son, and failing in this, would hysterically call out. Some were weeping, some were laughing, but it was all joy unalloyed. Our drill and discipline told to advantage here, and we succeeded in keeping our line, otherwise we would have been scattered to the winds.

We were formally welcomed back by Mayor Turner, representing the people of Rutherford and surrounding towns, and invited to partake of a banquet in the near future. Lieutenant Blake now saw that it was useless to try and hold the men together longer, so the final command to break ranks was given and then every man "Tommy" of us was hugged as he had never been hugged before. One week later the company assembled at Sea Girt and there received their furloughs, which held good until the final muster out at Paterson, November 21, 1898.