Personal Recollections of a Cavalryman / With Custer's Michigan Cavalry Brigade in the Civil War

by James Harvey Kidd

That day (26) we passed the First army corps, commanded by the lamented Reynolds, and reached the village of Frederick as the sun was setting. The clouds had cleared away, and a more enchanting vision never met human eye than that which appeared before us as we debouched from the narrow defile up which the road from lower Maryland ran, on the commanding heights that overlooked the valley. The town was in the center of a most charming and fertile country, and around it thousands of acres of golden grain were waving in the sunlight. The rain of the early morning had left in the atmosphere a mellow haze of vapor which reflected the sun's rays in tints that softly blended with the summer colorings of the landscape. An exclamation of surprise ran along the column as each succeeding trooper came in sight of this picture of Nature's own painting.

But more pleasing still, were the evidences of loyalty which greeted us on every hand, as we entered the village. The stars and stripes floated above many buildings, while from porch and window, from old and young, came manifestations of welcome. The men received us with cheers, the women with smiles and waving of handkerchiefs. That night we were permitted to go into camp and enjoy a good rest, in the midst of plenty and among friends.

On Saturday morning (27) much refreshed, with horses well fed and groomed and haversacks replenished, the Fifth and Sixth moved on toward Emmittsburg, the Seventh having gone through the Catoctin Valley by another road. The march was through the camps of thousands of infantry just starting in the same direction. Among the distinguished generals who were leading the advance, I remember, particularly, Reynolds and Doubleday. During the day it was a constant succession of fertile fields and leafy woods. Commodious farm-houses on every hand and evidences of plenty everywhere, we reveled in the richness and overflowing abundance of the land. There were "oceans" of apple-butter and great loaves of snow-white bread that "took the cake" over anything that came within the range of my experience. These loaves were baked in brick ovens, out of doors, and some of them looked as big as peck measures. A slice cut from one of them and smeared thick with that delicious apple-butter, was a feast fit for gods or men. And then the milk, and the oats for the horses, and everything that hungry man or beast could wish for. Those were fat days and that was a fat country, such as the Iraelitish scouts who went over into the land of Canaan never looked upon or dreamed of.

To be sure we had to pay for what we had. Especially after we crossed over into Pennsylvania among the frugal Dutch was this the case. But their charges were not exorbitant, and so long as we had a dollar, it was cheerfully parted with for their food. But it seemed a little hard for the Michiganders to be there defending the homes of those opulent farmers, while they, so far from taking up the musket to aid in driving out the army that was invading their soil, were seemingly unwilling to contribute a cent, though I may have misjudged them.

It looked odd, too, to see so many able-bodied men at home, pursuing their ordinary avocations, with no thought of enlisting, while a hostile army was at their very doors. It looked so to the soldiers who had been serving in Virginia, and who knew that in the South, every man able to bear arms was compelled to do so, and that within the lines of the confederacy, the cradle and the grave were robbed to fill the ranks. Lee, with a hundred thousand men was somewhere in that region, we knew and they knew. We were searching for him and the time was close at hand when the two armies must come into contact, and oceans of blood would flow, before the confederates could be driven from Northern soil. The government was calling loudly for reinforcements of short time men to serve for the immediate emergency. Yet, these selfish farmers would drive as sharp a bargain, and figure as closely on the weight and price of an article supplied to the federal troops, as though they had never heard of war. Indeed, I believe many of them knew little about what was going on. Their world was the little Eden in which they passed their daily lives—the neighborhood in which they lived. They were a happy and bucolic people, contented to exist and accumulate, with no ambition beyond that; and while loyal to the government, in the sense that they obeyed its laws and would have scorned to enter into a conspiracy to destroy it, yet they possessed little of that patriotism which inspires men to serve and make sacrifices for their country.

On Sunday morning, June 28, 1863, the two regiments, having passed the night in camp near the Pennsylvania line, resumed the march and passed through the town of Emmittsburg. It was a little place, with scarce more than a thousand inhabitants, but with several churches, an academy, an institute for girls, and a little to the northeast Mount St. Mary's college, a Catholic institution, founded in 1808. Like everything else, thereabouts, it had a solid, substantial appearance.

So quiet was it, that it seemed like sacrilege to disturb the serenity of that Sabbath day. The sanctuaries stood invitingly in the way, and one could in fancy, almost hear the peal of the organ, as the choir chanted, "Gloria in excelsis"—Glory be to God on high and on earth peace, good will to men—and the voice of the preacher, as he read: "And they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning-hooks."

But our mission was, if possible, to find out what Lee and Longstreet, Ewell and Stuart were doing on that holy day. It required no prophet to predict that it would not be to them a day of rest, but that they would be more than ever active to carry out the schemes that for the federal army meant great hurt and mischief. Little that was positive was known of Lee's movements, but it was reported that he had pushed on north with his whole army, and was now in dangerous proximity to Harrisburg. His line of march had been to the west of Hooker's and as he was so far north, it was evident that we were making directly for his communications, in rear of his army. A tyro in the art of war could see that much of the strategy that was going on. Would Lee allow that and go on to Baltimore, or turn and meet the army that Hooker was massing against him? That was the question.

Taking the Emmittsburg pike, Copeland with the two regiments pushed on to Gettysburg. Thus it was, that the Fifth and Sixth Michigan regiments of cavalry had the honor of being the first Union troops to enter the place that was destined so soon to give its name to one of the great battles of history. The road from Emmittsburg to Gettysburg ran between Seminary Ridge on the left and Cemetery Ridge and Round Top on the right. It was a turnpike, and as we marched over it one could not help noticing the strategic importance of the commanding heights on either side. I remember well the impression made on my mind at the time by the rough country off to the right. This was Round Top and Little Round Top where such desperate fighting was done three days later. We passed close to the historic "Peach Orchard" and over the fish-hook shaped Cemetery Hill at the bend; then descended into the town which nestled at the foot of these rocky eminences.

Before we reached the town it was apparent that something unusual was going on. It was a gala day. The people were out in force, and in their Sunday attire to welcome the troopers in blue. The church bells rang out a joyous peal, and dense masses of beaming faces filled the streets, as the narrow column of fours threaded its way through their midst. Lines of men stood on either side, with pails of water or apple-butter, and passed a "sandwich" to each soldier as he passed. At intervals of a few feet, were bevies of women and girls, who handed up bouquets and wreaths of flowers. By the time the center of the town was reached, every man had a bunch of flowers in his hand, or a wreath around his neck. Some even had their horses decorated, and the one who did not get a share was a very modest trooper, indeed. The people were overjoyed, and received us with an enthusiasm and a hospitality born of full hearts. They had seen enough of the gray to be anxious to welcome the blue. Their throats grew hoarse with the cheers that they sent up in honor of the coming of the Michigan cavalrymen. The freedom of the city was extended. Every door stood open, or the latch-string hung invitingly out.