On many of the houses, English and French flags were flying; the inmates thinking their property might be more secure by claiming foreign protection. During the entire march, private property was respected to a degree never before shown by an army in an enemy’s country; and guards were placed over many of the houses of prominent rebels. It is true that less regard was shown to the occupants of a poorer class of houses; and the immense number of contrabands attached to the Army of the Gulf, in the capacity of officers’ servants, were not very scrupulous, and generally came into camp at night pretty well laden with poultry and vegetables; but, as their labor had produced these articles, perhaps they were entitled to them. An indiscriminate liberty to forage would have been fatal to the efficiency of the army, and might have defeated the object of the campaign. Thus, while there was comparatively little foraging carried on, these foreign flags were no safeguard. If an unlucky chicken or pig had happened in the way, he would have been gobbled up, if he had borne the private mark of Victoria or Napoleon.
Thursday night, the army went into camp before dark, beyond the village of Indian Bend. The country hitherto had been perfectly level, and, previous to the war, was mostly devoted to the culture of sugar; but, in accordance with the advice of the Confederate leaders, many of the plantations were now planted with corn.
On Friday, the aspect of the country changed, and rolling prairies succeeded to the low plains. Herds of cattle roamed over these prairies; the view of which caused some lively comments on the starving-out theory indulged in by some of the good people at home. Saturday, April 18, the entire force rested. It had been a full week since leaving Berwick City; and the troops had been marching or fighting continuously, sleeping nearly every night with their equipments on. In addition to this, each regiment furnished its proportion of the picket; and, after a march of from twenty to thirty miles, those detailed had to sling their bundles again, go off half a mile or a mile into the woods, and keep awake part of the night, peering into the darkness, and making their supper of hard-tack and water. It may, perhaps, be imagined how welcome this day of rest was to both man and beast, under these circumstances.
A fine head of cattle was confiscated here; and a large portion of the day spent in feasting. In fact, there was no lack of fresh meat during the entire march through this country; but, as it was brought into camp generally after the men had quartered for the night, little of it was cooked. And then this was the first year in the field, and that experience had not been acquired which makes the difference between raw recruits and veterans.
Sunday morning, the 19th, the army was again in motion. The line was just forming, when the clouds opened, and the rain and hail came down in a manner peculiar to Louisiana. In a few minutes, every one was wet to the skin; and, in this state, a long day’s march began. The cavalry and artillery cut up the roads, so that the infantry went into the soft mud to the ankles at every step. During the day, the army marched through the village of Lafayetteville, in which nearly every house had a white rag hung out as a token of peace. These people had heard such stories of the Union army, that they looked upon its approach with terror and apprehension; but the men who enlisted in ’61 and ’62 were no desperadoes, and did not make war on women and children. That night, the brigade encamped on a piece of grassland, and found it much preferable to the usual cane-field furrows. Starting again in the morning (April 20), a wide, shallow stream was reached, which had to be forded. The horses went over first, making numerous holes in the soft bottom; and it was an amusing sight to see the infantry feel their way cautiously along, half sliding, half walking, some unfortunate individual occasionally missing his footing, and plunging headlong into the muddy stream.
About four o’clock, P. M., the bugles sounded a halt, and an aide rode down from the front with an order to the effect, that Opelousas, the Confederate capital of the State, had surrendered unconditionally. This important announcement was received with cheers; the ranks closed up; the colors were unfurled; the drums beat; and, with a proud step, the column marched on. Passing a few scattering houses, the open country was again reached, when the inquiries became numerous as to the whereabouts of the capital. It was learned that the army had marched through one of the principal streets. This was not the first time they had been deceived by an imposing name bestowed upon a handful of buildings; but it was hardly worth while to make a parade of surrendering this little clearing, if the travelling government of the State did make a transient stay there.
CHAPTER VI.
Camp at Opelousas—Cotton versus Potatoes—Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry—Term “boys” not to be used in Third Brigade—Arrival of Grierson’s Cavalry at Baton Rouge—The March resumed—Alexandria—Red River—Start for the Mississippi—Morganza.
