Personal Recollections of the Civil War / By One Who Took Part in It as a Private Soldier in the 21st Volunteer Regiment of Infantry from Massachusetts

by James Madison Stone

By the first of March I was on crutches and able to get around pretty well. So desiring to hear the President deliver his inaugural address on the 4th of March, I, early in the forenoon, went down to the Capitol, got into a good position on the east side to see and hear Mr. Lincoln. I stayed there, heard the address, saw the sun burst out on Mr. Lincoln. The throng came, the famous Second Inaugural Address was given, the throng melted away, and I returned to the hospital again. When evening came I went over to the White House to a public reception, fell into line, and passed around and shook hands with Mr. Lincoln. He seemed to be in the best of spirits.

April 10. The daily papers announced the welcome news of the surrender of General Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia. The surrender had taken place the afternoon before at Appomattox Court House, Virginia. It was the signal for the display of the greatest enthusiasm. In a short time salutes began to be fired, and every fortification and every battery in the vicinity of Washington fired a national salute. We boys in the hospital climbed up on to the top of the wards; from there we could see the smoke shoot out from the top of every hill in sight, and the roar of the artillery was like a great battle.

After Lee’s surrender, the period of national rejoicing was destined to be short, and terminated in a most abrupt and tragical manner—the assassination of President Lincoln.

My own personal experience on that eventful night of April 14th and 15th had in it an element of interest. The road from the quarter of the city where Ford’s Theatre stood, to the Navy Yard bridge across the Anacostia River near the Navy Yard, passed quite near one corner of Emery Hospital, which was laid out in the form of a square. I was quartered at that time in a tent that stood at the corner near the road, and heard a man ride past at great speed going in the direction of the Navy Yard bridge. It was an uncommon thing for any one to pass along that road at night and it attracted my attention. A few moments elapsed and a squad of cavalry rode past like the wind. That aroused me again and I called the attention of the night watchman to it. “Oh, you’ve been dreaming,” said he, “go to sleep.” But I could not go to sleep, I was sure something out of the ordinary had happened. A little after midnight the news was brought to the hospital that the President had been assassinated. I was then confident that it was Booth I had heard ride past the hospital, and later reports proved my conclusion to be true.

Early in May I was transferred to the veteran Reserve Corps and assigned to a company in Philadelphia and then was detailed to the adjutant-general’s office of the state of Pennsylvania to do clerical work, and stayed there until I was discharged in July. The work amounted to very little; an occasional hour’s work was all I had to do.

The captain of the company of the Veteran Reserve Corps to which I belonged, Buckley by name, was a specimen. He was a typical Irish politician with all the bluster and swagger of that class. He was associated with the sutler and was, all in all, one of the most unsavory specimens to be found anywhere.

In July, I received a notice from the adjutant-general of Massachusetts that my regiment had been mustered out of the service of the United States, and on the 22d, I was paid off, mustered out of service and returned home. Thus ended my four years and six days’ service during the Civil War, and thus end these recollections which have assumed proportions quite surprising, considering what was contemplated at the outset.

In studying the history of the Revolutionary War, I have often wished I could read the diary of a private soldier of that time, that I might form an impression of the life of the soldier in the ranks during that war.

If, some day, a student should come along who is interested in the history of the Civil War, and who would like to know something more about it than just the main facts, which is all the histories usually give, it is hoped that these recollections will be of assistance to him in that respect.

Few soldiers, too, had so varied an experience as fell to the lot of the writer. Again, it has been a source of genuine pleasure to think over the old campaigns, with their diversity of experiences, and put what I have been able to call to mind into readable form.