CHAPTER IX.
REGIMENT ORDERED HOME.—RECEPTIONS.—MY FIRST CALL UPON GOVERNOR ANDREW.—RETURN TO THE FRONT.
In December I resolved to return to the regiment. My wound was not healed and my surgeon protested, but I was anxious to see the boys. Upon my arrival at Washington what was my surprise to find that I had been discharged by order of the War Department November 5, as being unable to perform military duty. With Col. Gardiner Tufts, the Massachusetts State agent, I visited the War Department and was informed that I should receive my discharge through my regimental headquarters. If ever a man had the blues I had. My sickness had cost me several hundred dollars, I was unable to perform any kind of labor, was out of money, and could not settle with the government until my papers were received; but Colonel Tufts could always make the path of a soldier smooth and he was able to secure me two months’ pay. From Washington I went to the regiment, which was camped near Stevensburg, Va. I waited until after January 1 for my discharge, but it did not come, and my wound was so bad that the surgeon ordered me home. Colonel Rice was in command of the regiment, Colonel Devereaux being in command of the Philadelphia brigade. I called on Colonel Devereaux, who was very indignant to learn that I had been discharged; he said he would see about it, and I knew that meant something.
One day the colonel sent for me and said, “Jack, I have a letter from Governor Andrew asking that the regiment re-enlist for three years more or until the end of the war; do you think they will do it?” My answer was, “I don’t know; there are not many left to re-enlist.” He said, “I wish you would go to your old company, A, and talk with them,” and I consented. The regiment was encamped on a side hill in shelter tents, and the weather was cold and rainy. I went to Company A; the mud in the company street was ankle deep and everything was as disagreeable as possible. Giles Johnson was first sergeant. I talked with him and asked him to “fall in” the men. Thirteen responded to the call,—all who were on duty of the grand company which had left Massachusetts in 1861. I repeated the story the colonel had told me, then asked for a response from them; for a moment all were silent, then Ben Falls said, “Well, if new men won’t finish this job, old men must, and as long as Uncle Sam wants a man, here is Ben Falls.” Then spoke Mike Scannell: “It is three years, as you know, since I have seen my wife and children. I had expected to go home when my time was out and stay there, but we must never give up this fight until we win, and I am with you to the end.” Others expressed themselves in the same way, and when I said, “All who will re-enlist step one pace to the front,” every man in line advanced.
I then saw men of other companies. Ed. Fletcher of Company C said, “They use a man here just the same as they do a turkey at a shooting match, fire at it all day, and if they don’t kill it raffle it off in the evening; so with us, if they can’t kill you in three years they want you for three more, but I will stay.” I next saw Michael O’Leary of Company F and asked him if he would re-enlist. Mike threw his cap on the ground, struck an attitude and said, “By the gods above, by the worth of that cap, I never will re-enlist until I can be with Mary Ann without the stars and stripes waving over me.” But I said, “Mike, they are all going to do it.” “They are? Then Michael O’Leary must stay.” A large majority signed the re-enlistment role, and December 20 they were mustered in for three years more, or until the end of the war. In this instance, as in nearly every other where the soldiers and the government were concerned, the government did not do as they agreed. The conditions of the re-enlistment were, that the soldier should at once have thirty-five days’ furlough and transportation to his home. Our men did not receive theirs until Feb. 8, 1864, nearly seven weeks after they had re-enlisted. The weather was very severe, many were sick and all were unhappy.
To my mind the re-enlisting of the three years’ men in the field was the most patriotic event of the war. They knew what war was, had seen their regiments and companies swept away until only a little remnant remained. They did not have the excitement of the war meetings to urge them on, but with a full knowledge of the duties required and the probability that many would fall before their term expired, with uncovered heads and uplifted hands they swore to stand by the flag until the last armed foe surrendered.
I could not wait until the regiment received orders to come home, so came alone, took off my uniform, put on citizen’s clothes, and began to look for employment. About the 12th of February I saw by the newspapers that the regiment had arrived in Boston. I could not keep away, and went to Beach Street barracks, where they were quartered. Almost the first man I met was Colonel Devereaux, who said, “What are you here for?” My answer was, “I wanted to see the boys.” Drawing a paper from his pocket he said, “Get a uniform and equipments, and report for duty in half an hour.” “But my uniform and equipments are at home,” I replied. “Can’t help it,” said Colonel Devereaux, “I propose that you command your company in the parade to-day.” So I went out, bought a cheap uniform, hired a set of equipments and reported for duty. I found that the paper read: “So much of General Order No. 492 as discharged First Lieut. John G. B. Adams, 19th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, is hereby revoked, and he is restored to duty without loss of pay, provided the vacancy has not been filled, evidence of which he must furnish from the governor of his State.” We were given a reception and dinner in Faneuil Hall; Governor Andrew, not being able to attend, was represented by our old commander, General Hincks.