I was also mail-carrier for the regiment to and from the post office in Alexandria, and was always cheerfully received on my return with a heavy mail; for amongst the chief delights of a soldier was a letter from home. As there was no salary attached to this branch of the mail service I was not accused of offensive partisanship, but permitted to hold the office to the end of my term of enlistment.
November 27, 1862, was recognized by us as Thanksgiving day, although the turkey, without which no Yankee can properly observe the day, was conspicuous only by its absence. The usual amusements of the occasion, however, including a sack race between two men, each enveloped in a bed-sack drawn up and tied under his chin, were engaged in and greatly enjoyed. The governor's proclamation was read by Chaplain Field, and appropriate religious services were conducted by him in front of headquarters.
As it had been currently rumored for some time that Camp Casey was to be our winter quarters, the boys had taken great pains to make their habitations as snug and cosy as possible for the rapidly approaching cold weather. The non-commissioned staff, of which I was a member, appropriated to their use a roofless negro hut in the rear of the stately old mansion house which was occupied by the colonel and staff for headquarters, and by using the fly of a large tent for a roof, and otherwise improving it, we converted it into very comfortable quarters, anticipating quite a jolly time therein during the winter. The mess consisted of Sergeant Major Daniel R. Ballou, subsequently promoted to the office of lieutenant for bravery at the battle of Fredericksburg; Commissary Sergeant Amasa F. Eddy; Quartermaster's Clerk Erastus Richardson; the Quartermaster Sergeant, and William, the colored boy.
But alas for all plans which have no firmer base than rumors in the army. For the regiment had no more than fully settled down to housekeeping for the winter, when, on Sunday, November thirtieth, orders were received that Colonel Wright's brigade, of which the Twelfth Rhode Island was a part, would move to the front the next day at twelve o'clock. As to their destination, no one knew save Colonel Browne, if indeed he did, and, as a matter of course, speculations and conjectures of all sorts were freely indulged in. "Shelter tents" were issued at once, the men were ordered to provide themselves with three days' cooked rations and have everything in readiness to move promptly at the appointed time. Truly, "there was hurrying to and fro, and gathering in hot haste," each one busily making ready for his unknown journey. There was but very little grumbling about leaving our nicely arranged camp and beautiful situation, although we had but very recently received what seemed to be almost a positive promise that these should be our winter quarters.
The baggage was reduced to the lowest marching standard, and the men ordered to take nothing in their knapsacks except what they actually needed. The consequence was that a large portion of their "traps" had to be left behind, and judging from the number of officers' trunks which I shipped to Rhode Island after the regiment left, I doubt not that more dress uniforms adorned the wardrobes at home than their owners in the field. Such things look exceedingly nice on dress parade or review, but they are not altogether useful on a forced march or in a fight.
The hour of departure having arrived, the companies marched from their several streets, the regimental line was formed, and all was in readiness for a move. I must confess to an almost overwhelming feeling of loneliness as I saw the long soldierly column moving off, led by the splendid band of the Thirteenth New Hampshire, for amongst other things I thought it quite probable that before I should again see them, their ranks might be thinned by the terrible shock of battle. And so, alas! they were. But having received orders from the colonel to remain in charge of the camp, which remained as before, except that its occupants were gone, the tents being all left standing, I had no alternative but to obey. About seventy men were left in the camp, all of whom, with the exception of the quartermaster's clerk and myself, were on the sick list. Truly this was "a sick house with no doctor," for the surgeon and each of his assistants had gone forward with the regiment. We were cheered, however, just at evening by the return of our kind-hearted assistant surgeon, Doctor Prosper K. Hutchinson, now long since gone to his reward, who was sent back to remain with the sick ones until they should be able to join their comrades. The clerk and myself now appropriated the colonel's somewhat luxurious quarters to our use, and as we had plenty of provisions and a good cook, there was no occasion for us to complain of our fate.
The fourth day after the regiment left, winter set in in good earnest. Snow fell to the depth of several inches, and the weather was bitterly cold and severe. I contrasted my comfortable quarters, as I sat by a blazing wood fire at night, with those of my comrades huddled in shelter tents and shivering from cold, somewhere on their tedious march to the front, and heartily pitied, while I could not alleviate, their condition. With the aid of some of the convalescents I struck the tents, turned over the camp stores and equipage, except a small part which was to go forward to the quartermaster's department in Washington, settled my accounts with the Government, and, through the kindness of the quartermaster of the One Hundred and Eleventh New York, who loaned me the use of his teams, hauled the balance of the baggage to Alexandria, placed it on board a boat for Acquia Creek, and on the seventeenth of December took leave of Camp Casey, and with thirteen men went forward to join my regiment. It was found encamped near General Sumner's headquarters on the heights opposite Fredericksburg, which place I learned it reached after a week's march from Camp Casey, travelling upwards of sixty miles—part of the time through the mud, and part thereof through the snow and over the frozen ground. My friend, Captain Lapham, who experienced the hardships of this never-to-be-forgotten march, has already vividly described it to you in his admirable paper on the Twelfth Rhode Island.
The terrible battle of Fredericksburg had been fought three days before my arrival at Falmouth, and I knew of it only from others and from the fearful havoc which it had made in the ranks of my comrades, upwards of one-fifth of the entire regiment having been either killed, wounded, or found missing at the close of that sanguinary contest. The part taken by the gallant Twelfth has also been graphically portrayed in the paper just referred to, by one who took an honorable part therein, and it would be presumption in me to attempt a word in addition.
The great Army of the Potomac, now upwards of one hundred thousand strong, was stretched along the eastern bank of the Rappahannock from Falmouth southward to, and including, General Franklin's division, and for miles there was but little space between the regimental camps of this mighty host. Our picket line was on the left bank of the river, while that of the enemy was on the right in plain sight, and for the most part the two lines were within reach of each other's rifles. But there was little firing done, it seeming to be tacitly understood that their principal business was to mutually watch, instead of shoot, each other. Anxious to see how rebels in arms looked, I rode the length of our picket line and inspected them as best I could, from this tolerably safe distance, and became satisfied that a nearer approach was undesirable.
Our base of supplies was Acquia Creek, about fifteen miles in our rear, towards Washington, and thither I had to frequently go for our subsistence. The trains to this place were daily laden with the sick and wounded on their way to the great hospitals in and around Washington. And some of the sights that I saw in connection with the removal of our poor, maimed, sick and dying soldiers, shortly after the terrible battle, would be too painful to relate. I do not mean that they were not as well treated and as kindly cared for as was practicable under the circumstances, but that from their great numbers, the inadequate means for handling them, and the distance over which they had to be transported in crowded box cars and filthy steamboats before much could be done for them, it was impossible but that their sufferings in many cases should be of the most aggravated character.