Arriving at City Point, we were provided with a substantial supper. Our hotel accommodations, however, were not strictly first-class. Recruits and returning convalescents arriving here were provided with lodgings during their stay in a huge board structure known by the expressive name of "The Bull Pen." As to rooms, furnishings, and general appointments, the government had been exceedingly frugal. In fact, the entire outfit consisted of four walls, roof, and floor, joined together on principles of the strictest economy. The floor was comfortably carpeted with mud to the depth of about an inch and a half. Tobacco chewings, cigar stumps, etc., added variety and flavor.
On this particular occasion the institution was so crowded that you could not get room to lie down, all to yourself. This was no serious objection, as it furnished ample apology for resting your feet on the other fellow's stomach. Thieves found the "Bull Pen" an excellent place for plying their trade. The recruits and substitutes finding entertainment here usually had some money.
This night, after the lights were out, and all had been quiet for some time, I lay doubled up on the floor still wide awake. In such a gathering there are usually some splendid snorers. This crowd had some performers of rare merit. My location was toward the end of the building. Lying here, listening drowsily to the odd sounds about me, I heard a slight commotion down toward the center of the building, then a blow, and the cry of "Thief!" Then more blows, a general rising up of that part of the congregation, and a pouring out of profane objurgations that was surprising. The swearing and pounding went on with great vigor for some minutes, those not directly engaged cheering the others on with hoots and yells. In fact, a free fight was going on down there in the intense darkness, every body thumping every one within reach, thinking to spot the thief. Finally some one struck a match. As its flickering rays lighted up the gloom, they revealed a dozen or so of disgusted combatants glaring savagely on each other, and each wanting to know who was the thief. Of course it was impossible to find him now.
Chapter XI.
The next day I reached the regiment, then on the Welden Railroad, near the Yellow Tavern. I say "the regiment." I mean what was left of it. Instead of the large, full organization I left in July, it was now but a remnant. Four commissioned officers of the One Hundred and Ninetieth remained. These were Colonel Pattee, Adjutant Wright, Captain Birkman, and Lieutenant Peacock. Of Company C, there were but ten men, myself making the eleventh.
A terrible calamity had befallen them at the time the Welden Railroad was taken from the enemy, August 18th and 19th. The brigade was sent forward to skirmish. They advanced and drove every thing before them till they struck the main force of the enemy. Here they fortified and held their ground without support until the afternoon of the 19th, when they were compelled to surrender. A few escaped by taking the suicidal risk of running through a gap in the rebel lines. Mike Coleman, Captain Birkman, and a few others escaped in this way. Mike told me he heard men call "Halt! Halt!" on every side; but he looked neither to the right nor left, and went ahead. Dave Steen was killed in this battle. A ball struck him in the breast, a little to the right, and high up, severing one of the large blood vessels. As he fell, two of the men ran to him. He asked for his Bible—his only words. Hastily opening his knapsack, they handed it to him. Almost as his fingers closed on the holy book, his spirit hastened away from that scene of turmoil to the rest above. He was a brave soldier and a true man.
After the ground had been re-occupied, as it quickly was by men of the Ninth Corps, his remaining comrades buried him, and placed around his grave a rude framework to protect it from disturbance. The few that escaped, together with returning absentees, represented the organization under Colonel Pattee, who had now recovered from his wound. During September and October the regiment suffered considerable loss in fighting along the left of our line at various points.
On one occasion they were ordered to advance and "feel" the enemy. The design was merely to drive in his pickets, and compel him to show his strength. As soon as the command "forward" was given, away they went with a yell, sweeping the rebel pickets before them, and on into the works beyond, before the enemy knew what was the matter or could recover from his astonishment. An attempt was made to recall them as they went rushing on toward the rebel works; but signals and bugle-calls were unheeded. They entered, and for a time held a part of the rebel works. Of course, this could not last long. It was not the intention to bring on a general engagement, and they were not supported. In a little while they were driven back again with serious loss. Captain Kinsey, of Company C, was severely wounded, and never returned. In trying to bring Captain Kinsey off the field, young Overdoff was killed, shot through the head. When he first came to the company he was not very well liked; but his kind and pleasant bearing soon made friends of all. From his first experience in the Wilderness until his death, he was loved and honored as a brave and fearless soldier.