Co. I. Capt. Levin Vinson; 1st. Lt. John E. Vinson; 2nd. Lt. Stephen Brothers; Enlisted men, ninety-six.
Co. K. Capt. Geo. W. Cook; 1st. Lt. Oliver P. Hunt; 2nd. Lt. Joseph F. Crosby; Enlisted men, one hundred and two.
Life in camp at Danville, was passed as camp life usually is. The regular routine of guard duty, drilling, etc., etc., until one evening at "Dress Parade," our Colonel informed us that we would break camp, and leave for Cincinnati on the following day, and that the number of our Regiment was the One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth. We had been furnished, while in camp, with everything that was necessary for a soldier in the field, excepting tents. The arms which were given us were what were called the "Austrian Rifle," and a poor arm they were. Some of them were not entirely drilled out, and any quantity of them had springs that would not snap a cap, nor on which a bayonet could be fastened without hammering. If we were merely going out for a picnic or a procession, the Regiment was splendidly equipped, but if we were bound for the front, it would have been a matter of little difficulty for a small force of the enemy to have routed us, unless we were given a chance to use the "butts" of our guns, for in that shape only would they have been reliable.
At this stage of the war, when the private soldier received but thirteen dollars per. month, it was patriotism, and not a desire for wealth, that filled the ranks of the Union Army. So, with fifes and drums playing the old tune to which so many have marched to their graves, "The Girl I left behind me," and with our banners gaily floating on the breeze, we started for the seat of war. A train of cattle cars was to be our conveyance, and on them we clambered. The usual scenes, incident to the departure of a Regiment from home, took place: wives parting from their husbands, children from their fathers and fathers from their children; all phases of the human heart were to be seen there. The lingering clasp of the fond wife, the last kiss of the children, the hearty hand shake and a "God speed you, and bring you back safe" of a friend; the men trying to hide their emotions with a forced smile or witty saying. But at last "all aboard," the engine whistled, the bell rang, and amid the cheers of the crowd, away we went, some to their graves. Oh! how many? The rest of us to return at the expiration of the war, for that was the term of our enlistment. Looking back from this late day, the scenes, the events, the recollections of that time, are as bright and vivid in the mind of the writer, as if they had transpired but yesterday. I know not how it was with other companies in the Regiment, but in the one to which the writer belonged, only one man showed the "white feather," at the last moment. He was left laying on the floor of "Floral Pavilion" in the "Fair Grounds," according to his own language, "so sick he did not know what to do." He may have been so, or he may not; at any rate there was not much sympathy shown for him, as we marched off leaving him there, the sole inhabitant of the place.
We have taken rides on the cars which were much more enjoyable, much more comfortable, than that night ride from Danville to LaFayette. The weather was pleasant, however, and there was a full moon; but the cars had no tops, and our eyes were filled with the smoke and cinders from the engine. We thought it the extreme of hardship, and an insult to pack us away like dumb brutes, on such cars; but before we again saw that road, we had seen the time we would have been only too glad to have a chance to ride that way. But we were young, in the prime of life, and our hearts were cheered with the thought that we were doing our duty, and so with laugh and song we whiled away the hours until we arrived at Cincinnati.
CHAPTER II.
It was on a Sabbath morning, when our train finally stopped, and we were ordered to disembark, and fall into line. The weather was intensely warm. Now, I want to say right here, that if ever I have to order a Regiment of men into the field, in the summer time, and that Regiment is bound for a southern climate, I will not think it necessary to provide them with overcoats, like we were, for we had them issued to us before we left Danville, and thought we had to take them. So there we stood in line, the hot sun pouring down his rays on our heads; our eyes sore from cinders and the loss of sleep; with our accoutrements upon us, and everybody as ill-natured, as might be expected, and no wonder. Oh! how slow the moments went by, it seemed to us hours, but at last the command rings out "Attention Battalion," "Take Arms," "Right Dress," "Right Face," "Forward march," and away we went, the band playing and the flags flying, across the Pontoon Bridge, over the Ohio, into the city of Covington, and the "neutral" state of Kentucky. Marching men, or regulating the gait of a horse to the step of new recruits, was something our worthy Colonel was sadly ignorant of, and it was not to be wondered at, for it was a new business to him. His horse walked too fast for us, and the consequence was that when he arrived at our camp he had but a "corporal's guard" following him. The remainder of the Regiment was scattered like sheep along the way we had come.
The writer and his partner stopped at what had once been a "Beer Garden," and on the tables which had once resounded to the clink of glasses, and which were placed around the enclosure in the shade of the trees, we deposited our weary bodies, and wished we were—at home. Without intending to throw any blame whatever, on the character or motives of our worthy Colonel, covering him with the excuse that he was totally ignorant of the art of "marching men," we must give it as our candid opinion that the march from Cincinnati to our camp on the hills back of Covington, did an injury to the rank and file of the Regiment, from which it never recovered, and which was the remote cause of death to some, and to others of lasting injury. Our camp was situated, truly, at a lofty elevation. We were placed in the Corn Stalk shelters which the "Squirrel Hunters" had occupied when Bragg had threatened Cincinnati with his forces, and who, at the call of the Governor of Ohio, had flocked to the standard of the Union, with their squirrel rifles, and their shot guns, to drive back the rebel hordes, and to maintain the old Flag, with their life blood if need be. They came from the prairie and the wood-land, in such numbers that the Governor was compelled to issue another proclamation, that no more were needed. Into the shelters which they had made from corn stalks, gathered from the fields contiguous, and which were models of skill and ingenuity, showing that the American, as a man, is equal to almost any emergency, our Regiment was marched, and quarters allotted to each company. Oh! those terrible hills, the like we had never seen before. We were prairie men; our homes had been in a level country, but here it was just the reverse, and it seemed to us as if we had ascended to the very heights. The Ohio rolled beneath us, and from its bosom we had to procure the water that was necessary for our use. How many lies were told to get out of the job of carrying water up to camp, or how many oaths were uttered by those who undertook the job, driven to it by necessity, the writer cannot pretend to state, but it was a hard journey, and the consequence was that water became to us, for once, valuable, and many was the raid that was made, under cover of the night, to some fellow's mess kettle, that had been filled to cook his breakfast with in the morning. But we enjoyed it all, after we had gotten over our march to get there, and soon the camp was alive with fun and frolic. We had nothing much to do but cook our food, drill, and police the camp grounds, and occasionally go on picket; and so we passed the days away, wondering where we would go to next, writing letters home and doing all in our power to make the time pass pleasantly.
Here it was an incident happened that was ludicrous in the extreme. It was the custom of the picket guard, when returning to camp every morning, to discharge their guns by volley, under command of a commissioned officer, at or into the foot of the hill on which our camp was situated. On this morning, to which we have reference, the pickets had been relieved and returned to camp, and as was their custom, had assembled at the foot of the hill to discharge their pieces. At the command of their officer there was a volley, and from some cause or other the bullets came whizzing over our heads, filling the air with that buzzing sound, which is so familiar to the old soldier, but which sounds like a death knell to the raw recruit. What a scattering to and fro there was, when those leaden missiles came whizzing through the air, what a falling to the ground, and hugging of mother earth was there witnessed. We thought the "Johnnies" had come sure enough; our minds were instantly filled with the accounts we had read of "surprises," "ambuscades," and the idea that the enemy were right on hand, seemed to have filled the minds of many. That scene will never be forgotten by those who are how living, and who witnessed it. It was a terrible "give-away" on the courage and soldierly qualities of at least one company in the One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Infantry. But we were indeed "infants" in the art of war. And to have seen what followed when it was definitely ascertained as to where the bullets came from, was ludicrous in the extreme. To see a big, brawny fellow who had fallen to the ground, to all appearances as dead as a log, raise up his head and enquire of his nearest neighbor, why he was laying there! What in thunder was the reason that, if he felt like laying down, every body else must lay down, too!! Get up and leave me alone now, or I'll hurt somebody!! And to see how quietly these prostrate forms would assume life and locomotion, and glide away into their corn stalk huts; and then at night, after the affair had cooled down somewhat, to listen, as we sat around our camp fires, to each one as he described what his sensations were at the time, seems to us, at this late day, to be just as comical as it was then. But oh! how they redeemed themselves, in after days, from any stigma of cowardice this may have cast upon them; how they faced the enemy and met death as only brave men can, the hearts of those who survived the fray in the years that came after, can bear witness. All honor to them, our neighbor boys, our true and tried friends.