The Last Campaign of the Twenty-Second Regiment, N.G., S.N.Y. June and July, 1863

by George Wood Wingate

The men rushed back to their quarters, and preparations for breaking camp went on in the greatest possible haste, in the midst of which the Chaplain disappeared for parts unknown, and we never laid eyes on him from that day to this.

Company D (Capt. Thornell) was here ordered down to relieve the companies on picket, and in obedience to subsequent orders threw up a line of rifle-pits across the road, to defend the position to which they had been ordered; where they remained, lying on their arms, until they were called in on the morning of the 30th.

In a few minutes the camp was struck, and we were marching off, little thinking, as we took our leave of the pleasant spot where our nice new tents were being loaded in wagons pressed for the occasion, of the length of time that would elapse before our heads would get under their (or any other) shelter again—perhaps, if we had, the leave-taking would have been more affecting.

While one half of the remaining portion of the regiment was ordered to hold the rifle-pits, the remainder marched to Bridgeport Station opposite Harrisburg, and proceeded to barricade several houses commanding the approaches to the beautiful railroad bridge erected at this point, with as much industry as though they had not done a thing for a week. Companies A (then commanded by Lieut. Franklin, Capt. Otis being temporarily absent) and I (Capt. Gardiner), with beams, barrels of earth, bundles of lath, railroad sleepers and sand-bags, by ten o’clock P. M., had converted the engine-house in which they were stationed into a loopholed and casemated battery to protect two pieces of the Eighth N. Y. troop, placed there to rake the railroad. In the more laborious parts of this work, lifting railroad sleepers and carrying sand-bags, they were assisted by a detachment of negroes from the large body at work on the fortifications, and it was really touching to see the patient, uncomplaining way in which these poor men worked. All the preceding night and day with scanty covering they had toiled, digging, carrying heavy beams and sand-bags, and though almost wearied out, without the slightest compulsion, without the use of a single harsh word from their overseer, they still continued. The white volunteers from Harrisburg had long since abandoned the toilsome work; the weary soldiers stopped at nine o’clock; but the negroes kept on.

At twelve o’clock P. M., the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh, were cautiously awakened and marched stealthily out to cut off the enemy’s advanced guard, reported to be reconnoitring in our front. It was an imposing sight to see the long column dimly and silently winding down the roads and through the varying shadows of the night. Not a sound was heard—orders were given in a whisper; and as we drew nearer the enemy’s position, the silence was so profound that the heavy breathing of the men was distinctly audible.

After a long march, whispered orders were passed down the line, and amid a death-like silence we halted and formed line of battle, fixing bayonets, and freshly capping our pieces in readiness for instant service. Every eye was strained through the darkness to discern the patrols of the enemy in the wavering shadows of the woods and fields, and every ear was stretched to its utmost tension to catch the expected challenge. But the silence was unbroken, and after a few moments’ halt the column proceeded, feeling their way with the utmost caution, and expecting at every instant to hear the volley which would announce that the advanced pickets had been encountered; but our caution was unnecessary, the enemy had fallen back and there was nothing to be seen.

The movement was splendidly managed, and only wanted one thing to be a magnificent success, that was—an enemy. “As there wasn’t anybody to be captured, we could not capture anybody;” so after marching out some five miles past the pickets, we returned without seeing anything, and at five A. M. lay down by the railroad track to catch a few minutes’ rest. Company B (Capt. Remmey), were not allowed even this rest; but were obliged to return to the picket station, down the New Cumberland road from which they had been recalled to join in the expedition, and which they did not reach until after seven o’clock.

The next day was spent in line of battle, waiting for an attack; but the rebels kindly allowed us to rest during the day, and to “turn in” at our usual hour at night, without molestation, for which we were exceedingly obliged to them.

In the meantime the preparations for the defence of Harrisburg went on with all possible speed; by this time the fortifications erected there were quite extensive, and it is probable that their looks went far toward dampening the ardor of the “Confeds.” But it seemed to us that in the incessant hurry and bustle that were going on around, there was a great want of system; that there was no great mind overseeing everything, and watching that the right man was in the right place. Much of this is certainly unavoidable. A general cannot see everything done with his own eyes, but still the unusual manner in which things were managed—the rushing at a thing for half a day, then leaving that unfinished, and going at something else; the subordinates at a loss for orders, and almost every one doing what seemed right in his own eyes—was the subject of frequent comment, especially among the “thinking bayonets” of the rank and file. But in justice it must be said that their opportunities of judging were very limited.

At about ten o’clock on the morning of the 30th of June, an order came from the General commanding, for the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh New York to prepare for a two-hours’ march, nothing to be carried but canteens. A hasty roll of the drum, a few hurried orders from the company officers, the line was formed, and in less than fifteen minutes the regiments were off, leaving everything behind them. They have not got back from that two hours’ march yet!