Morehead City had been selected as the base of supplies for Sherman’s army, and wharves were being built, storehouses erected, and additional railroad tracks laid, while the harbor was crowded with vessels of all descriptions, awaiting their turn to be unloaded. The work of unloading the ships and loading the cars was done principally by the men of the third brigade, assisted by colored soldiers and contrabands; and there was no cessation of labor, night or day,—one detail going on, when another came off. As a relief to the hard work, oysters and clams were to be procured in abundance a few hundred yards from the camp; and, as soon as the tide receded, the beach was covered with oystermen.
Nothing occurred to break the monotony of the daily and nightly fatigue duty till Sunday, March 26th, when one of the old Louisiana style of “scares” took place. The assembly sounded, the regiment formed in line, and the pickets were reinforced; but beyond the blaze and smoke from a large fire in the pine woods, and the occasional discharge of a piece of artillery, no signs of any enemy were seen, and it soon appeared that the alarm had been occasioned by the report of an “intelligent contraband,” that the enemy was marching on Morehead in force,—said contraband having heard a battery practising at a target.
April 7, the great news of the battle in front of Richmond and Petersburg, resulting in the defeat of Lee, was read to the troops, causing much rejoicing, although they did not commit such extravagances as the speculators in the exchanges of New York and Boston,—accounts of whose proceedings were read with amazement by the soldiers in the field.
A change had been made in the military programme, and Morehead was no longer to be the great base of supplies. At noon of the 8th, orders were received to pack up, and three o’clock, P. M., found the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth again on the road to Newbern on platform cars. Newbern was not the destination, however; and the train finally reached Goldsborough at three o’clock in the morning. Great numbers of recruits and high-bounty men had passed over the road lately; and, at the various wood and water stations, the old soldiers gathered around the train with such queries as, “How much bounty did you get?” “How long did you enlist for?” “Where’s your cow?” etc. One fellow, trying to get a nearer look in the moonlight, exclaimed, “Why, they are colored troops.” So they were “colored,” compared with many who had passed over the road lately. When it was known that the brigade had been “in the Valley with Sheridan,” there was a change in the tone of the remarks.
The regiment bivouacked near the depot till morning, when the back mails that had been sent to Savannah, arrived, and were assorted. Sherman’s entire army was encamped about Goldsborough; and the five corps broke camp, and began the march toward Raleigh the day after the arrival of the Thirty Eighth. Among all that force of veteran troops, none appeared to better advantage, or had a more military bearing, than the famous Thirty Third Massachusetts, who had charged under Joe Hooker at Lookout Mountain, and who had marched from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence to Goldsborough.
Upon the departure of Gen. Schofield, Gen. Birge was left in command of the post, and the Thirty Eighth selected to do duty in the town,—Cos. A, B, D, and K as provost guards, and the remaining six companies to guard the commissary stores.
Two days after the departure of Sherman’s troops, the news of Lee’s surrender was received, and glad enough were the men of the Thirty Eighth that the grand old Army of the Potomac had the honor of giving the finishing stroke to the rebellion.
While the whole army was jubilant at the speedy prospect of peace, and of the country being once more united, and when a feeling of pity for the defeated rebels was becoming prevalent among the soldiers, a wild rumor reached Goldsborough on the 17th that President Lincoln had been assassinated. The news was so horrible that it was not believed, and the next day it was reported that he had received only a slight flesh wound.
Then came the tidings that Johnston had surrendered his entire force to Sherman; and, without knowing the precise terms,—willing to put all confidence in Sherman’s integrity,—the soldiers in North Carolina gave way to an enthusiasm that none of the previous victories had excited. All day they poured into the government printing-office to learn if the report was official; and crowds gathered about the orders posted on the buildings. But the next day, the report of the assassination was confirmed; and then a revulsion of feeling took place, and Eastern and Western men alike, in stern tones, hoped that hostilities would be resumed. Few of the citizens of Raleigh or Goldsborough dreamed of the slumbering fire in their midst, that the least provocation would have fanned into a flame that would have destroyed all before it; and it required all of Gen. Sherman’s tact to keep his men quiet.
The paroled rebel soldiers, to their credit be it said, were unanimous in denouncing the assassination; and were determined to allow of no guerilla warfare in the State, now that the main armies had surrendered. Perfect good feeling existed between the late belligerents, although it was rather tantalizing to the Union soldiers, who had been from home so long, to see the ladies crowd around and caress the gray jackets.