If from any cause whatsoever one happened to have lost his command, or to have strayed away from or to have been left behind by his regiment, he could usually tell with tolerable certainty, as he trudged along the road among the men of another command, what part of the army he was with, and whether any of his own corps or division were anywhere near by; and he could tell this at a glance, without so much as stopping to ask a question. Do you ask how? I answer, by the badges the men wore on their caps.
ARMY BADGES.
An admirable and significant system of badges was adopted for the entire Union army. The different corps were distinguished by the shapes, the different divisions by the colors, of their several badges. Thus the First Corps wore a round badge, the Second a clover-leaf, the Third a diamond, the Fifth a Maltese cross, the Sixth a Roman cross, the Ninth a shield, the Eleventh a crescent, the Twentieth a star,[3] and so on. As each corps usually included three divisions, and as it was necessary to distinguish each of these from the other two, the three good old colors of the flag were chosen for this purpose,—red, white, and blue,—red for the First Division of each corps, white for the Second, and blue for the Third. Thus a round red badge meant First Division, First Corps; a round white, Second Division, First Corps; a round blue, Third Division, First Corps; and so on for the other corps. Division and corps headquarters could always be known by their flags, bearing the badges of their respective commands. As the men were all obliged to wear their proper badges, cut out of cloth or colored leather, on the top of their caps, one could always tell at a glance what part of the Army of the Potomac he was with. In addition to this, some regiments were distinguished by some peculiarity of uniform. Our own brigade was everywhere known as "The Buck-tails," for we all wore buck-tails on the side of our caps.
It was in this way that I was able to tell that none of my own brigade, division, or even corps were anywhere near me, as, late one evening about the middle of May, 1864, I wearily trudged along the road, in the neighborhood of Spottsylvania Court-house, in search of my regiment. I had lost the regiment early in the day, for I was so sick and weak when we started in the morning, that it was scarcely possible for me to drag one foot after the other, much less to keep up at the lively pace the men were marching. Thus it had happened that I had been left behind. However, after having trudged along all day as best I could, when nightfall came on I threw myself down under a pine-tree along the road which led through the woods, stiff and sore in limb, and half bewildered by a burning fever. All around me the woods were full of men making ready their bivouac for the night. Some were cooking coffee and frying pork, some were pitching their shelters, and some were already stretched out sound asleep. But all, alas! wore the red Roman cross. Could I only have espied a Maltese cross somewhere, I should have felt at home; for then I should have known that the good old Fifth Corps was near at hand. But no blue Maltese cross (the badge of my own division) was anywhere to be seen. As I lay there with half-closed eyes, feverishly wondering where in the world I was, and heartily wishing for the sight of some one wearing a buck-tail on his cap, I heard a well-known voice talking with some one out in the road, and, leaning upon my elbow, called out eagerly:
"Harter! Hello! Harter!"
"Hello! Who are you?" replied the sergeant, peering in amongst the trees and bushes. "Why, Harry, is that you? And where in the world is the regiment?"
"That's just what I'd like to know," answered I. "I couldn't keep up, and was left behind, and have been lost all day. But where have you been? I haven't seen you this many a day."
"Well," said he, as he brought his gun down to a rest and leaned his two hands on the muzzle, "you see the Johnnies spoiled my good looks a little back there in the Wilderness, and I was sent to the hospital. But I couldn't stand it there, wounded and dying men all around one; and concluded to shoulder my gun and start out and try to find the boys. Look here," continued he, taking off a bandage from the side of his face and displaying an ugly-looking bullet-hole in his right cheek. "See that hole? It goes clean through, and I can blow through it. But it don't hurt very much, and will no doubt heal up before the next fight. Anyhow, I have the chunk of lead that made that hole here in my jacket pocket. See that!" said he, taking out a flattened ball from his vest-pocket and rolling it around in the palm of his hand. "Lodged in my mouth, right between my teeth. But I'm tired nearly to death tramping around all day. Let's put up for the night. Shall we strike up a tent, or bunk down here under the pines?"