This outfit was not sufficient to last the year through, for various reasons, and so the quartermaster supplied duplicates of the garments when needed. But whatever was drawn from him beyond the amount allowed by the government was charged to the individual, and deducted from his pay at the end of the year. If, however, a man was so fortunate as not to overdraw his allowance, which rarely happened, he received the balance in cash.
The infantry made way with a large amount of clothing. Much of it was thrown away on the march. A soldier burdened with a musket, from forty to eighty rounds of ammunition, according to circumstances; a haversack stuffed plump as a pillow, but not so soft, with three days rations; a canteen of water, a woollen and rubber blanket, and a half shelter tent, would be likely to take just what more he was obliged to. So, with the opening of the spring campaign, away would go all extra clothing. A choice was made between the dress coat and blouse, for one of these must go. Then some men took their overcoat and left their blanket. In brief, when a campaign was fairly under way the average infantryman’s wardrobe was what he had on. Only that and nothing more. At the first start from camp many would burden themselves with much more than the above, but after a few miles tramp the roadside would be sprinkled with the cast-away articles. There seemed to be a difference between Eastern and Western troops in this respect, for reasons which I will not attempt now to analyze, for Grant says (Memoirs, vol. ii., pp. 190-191):—
“I saw scattered along the road, from Culpeper to Germania Ford, wagon-loads of new blankets and overcoats thrown away by the troops to lighten their knapsacks; an improvidence I had never witnessed before.”
It was a way the Army of the Potomac had of getting into light marching order.
When the infantry were ordered in on a charge, they always left their knapsacks behind them, which they might or might not see again. And whenever they were surprised and compelled to fall back hastily, they were likely to throw aside everything that impeded their progress except musket and ammunition. Then, in the heat of battle, again there was a dispensing with all encumbrances that would impair their efficiency. For these and other reasons, the governmental allowances would not have been at all adequate to cover the losses in clothing. Recognizing this fact, the government supplied new articles gratis for everything lost in action, the quartermaster being required to make out a list of all such articles, and to certify that they were so lost, before new ones could be obtained.
IN HEAVY MARCHING ORDER.
But the men who did garrison duty were not exempt from long clothing bills more than were those who were active at the front. I have in mind the heavy artillerymen who garrisoned the forts around Washington. They were in receipt of visits at all hours in the day from the most distinguished of military and civil guests, and on this account were not only obliged to be efficient in drill but showy on parade. Hence their clothing had always to be of the best. No patched or untidy garments were tolerated. In the spring of 1864, twenty-four thousand of these men were despatched as re-enforcements to the Army of the Potomac, and a fine lot of men they were. They were soldiers, for the most part, who had enlisted early in the war, and, having had so safe—or, as the boys used to say, “soft”—and easy a time of it in the forts, had re-enlisted, only to be soon relieved of garrison duty and sent to the front as infantry. But while they were veterans in service in point of time, yet, so far as the real hardships of war were concerned, they were simply recruits. I shall never forget that muggy, muddy morning of the 18th of May, when, standing by the roadside near what was known as the “Brown House,” at Spottsylvania, I saw this fine-looking lot of soldiers go by. Their uniforms and equipments all seemed new. Among the regiments was the First Maine Heavy Artillery.
“What regiment is this?” was inquired at the head of the column by bystanders.
“First Maine,” was the reply.