The 125th Regiment, Illinois Volunteer Infantry: Attention Batallion!

by Robert M. Rogers

But in looking back over the time we staid there on those "everlasting hills," memory recalls to us one stormy night, when neither moon nor star gave forth its light, when the heavens were draped in the blackest of darkness, when the wind blew with the force of a hurricane, and our corn stalk shelters were scattered far and wide; when the elements seemed to have combined to extemporize, for us, an entertainment of the grandest description, but which was to be enjoyed vastly more by the in-dwellers of good substantial houses, than we who had for our only covering a roof of corn stalks. But amid all this din and clash of the elements, came the order for an additional force to strengthen the picket guard. It was rumored about that the rebel Gen. John Morgan was in the neighborhood and was going to make a dash on our lines. Whether it was the fact, whether it was a "camp-rumor," or whether it was an honest alarm, we never found out. But there was the order all the same, and it must be complied with. The order called for a detail of three men from each company. The writer and two comrades were the ones who were called on from Co. "B." Gathering our guns and accoutrements was but the work of a moment, and away we went to report at Regimental Headquarters. The night was so dark that we could not discern our file leader, and so an attachment was made to the coat tail of the fellow in front. Down the hill we went, stumbling, and falling, over rocks and clods, until we reached a road. On this we were stationed, three men on a post, with orders for one of us to keep awake. The three to which the writer belonged were stationed at the foot of a large tree; the countersign given us in a whisper; the remainder of the detail marched off; and there we were! on picket! and to our excited imagination the enemy in countless numbers all around us. The night, as we have before stated, was intensely dark, but down on this road, at the foot of the high hills on which we were stationed, the wind did not strike with such fury, and any unusual noise could be plainly heard. There we stood at the foot of that large tree, determined, as we agreed among ourselves, to do our whole duty if matters came to the worst. Suddenly on the night air came the sound of a foot-fall, near; nearer; we held a short consultation, it might be an enemy, no doubt it was; well, we must find out. "Halt!" rang out on the night air. "Who comes there?" back came the answer, "A Friend." This was an assurance most acceptable to us. "Advance, friend, and give the countersign," and up came Capt. Fellows, of Co. "C," who was the officer of the guard. A short whispered consultation, a reminder from the Captain of how to perform our duty, and he passed on down the road to the next post. He had been gone but a little while when "bang" went a gun, and the bullet went whistling over our heads. What did that mean? We cocked our rifles and stood on the defensive, and it would have been terrible trouble for any one who had come our way just then. The whiz of the bullet died away, naught was heard, and we uncocked our guns and sat down, but not long, for again we heard the foot-fall on the road, coming from the direction which the Captain had taken when he left us; nearer it approaches, and again the word "Halt!" rings out on the night air. Back comes the response, "It's all right, don't act the fool as the man did on the post below." We brought our guns down and up came the Captain. "What gun was that Cap?" was our first enquiry. "Why," he replied, "the man on post below you was laying on the ground, and when he heard me coming, cried 'Halt!' and banged away, he came near hitting me too." Of course the usual amount of expletives were indulged in by each of us, making them as strong as the case seemed to require, and the Captain passed on. The articles of war declare that death shall be the penalty for that soldier who goes to sleep while on post; we knew it, it had been told to us, but if John Morgan, with his command, had driven in our pickets in the early gray of that morning, we are strongly inclined to the opinion, that at a certain post on that picket line the guard would have been found sleeping the sleep of the innocent and just. Yes, it is a fact Morpheus had wooed to his embrace, the entire three who occupied the picket post at the foot of that large tree. The reader who scans these pages must please bear in mind that we were "babes" in the art of war, at this time; we had come from our homes and from our farms only a few short weeks before, and the scenes in which we were now playing a part were of the veriest newness to us. We had entered into the service of our country in good faith, we had sworn allegiance to our flag under any and all circumstances, more as a form than anything else as far as our hearts were concerned, but we had not as yet arrived at that period in a soldier's life, when he finds that eternal vigilance is not only the price of liberty, but of his own life also. Morning came at last and with the rest of our comrades we were marched back to camp. We came as "conquerors come," we had stood during the night as an invincible band against our foes. That was, perhaps, what was thought of us in camp, but we knew how we had stood, and were going to keep it to ourselves most decidedly, at any rate we were willing to let "some of you fellows" try it the next time. We had been in camp now on those "everlasting hills," that is, as near as the writer can explain his sentiments about them, for several weeks, but it was not for the business merely of laying on top of them and basking in the sun that the Government had called for our assistance, and which we had almost come to believe was the extent to which the Government had invoked our aid. Oh! no, the Government meant business, and so accordingly one afternoon we received orders to "strike tents," that is what the bugle said, but we had no tents to strike; true there was a remnant of our corn-stalk homes, but the most of them had been scattered by the winds. Well, any way, the bugle call was to us the notice to pack up and fall into line. This we did, and away we marched, leaving our hills, our corn-stalk castles and many other remembrances behind us. Down the "pike" we went to the music of our band, to the steamboat landing, where we found two steamers waiting for us. But we have omitted one incident of our soldier days, when in camp at Covington, and if we had not gotten down to the boats we would have left it out, perhaps, altogether, and if we had, the historical record of the 125th Ills. would have been very incomplete, and so in order that it may be a true record, as near as we can make it, we must not omit this part of it. We have reference to the transportation outfit of the Regiment. Of course when we arrived at our camp at Covington, the only transportation there was, consisted of each man carrying on his back whatever earthly goods he was the possessor of. We had no animals of any kind, excepting the horses of the Colonel and his staff, but here at Covington we were to obtain that most useful, and at the same time most singular quadruped, the mule. If I thought myself able I would write an eulogy on that animal, but it is useless to think of that, I can not do it; suffice it then to say that in our humble opinion, the mule with all his eccentricities, played a most important part in the war of the rebellion. A willing servant; too much so we often thought, ready at all times to do his part, whether in pulling in the collar, or packing on his back, strapped on so tight that it was as much as he could do to obtain his regular amount of air necessary for breathing purposes, an almost innumerable amount of blankets, tin pans, pots, roosters, niggers and all the paraphernalia of camp life, or of sending by a quick and powerful discharge of his hind feet a warrior to the hospital, or to the happy hunting grounds, the mule will ever bear an honorable name in the records of the great war. So much for the mule, he was honest, and we must be. But to our narrative. An order came, one morning, to detail from each company a man to drive the company team of six mules. What visions of ease opened up to our minds. "What! is that all they want a fellow to do, drive a team? I'm in for that, here Cap., I'll go, yes so will I and I and I." Thus the strain rang out, until it was much to be feared that the 125th were mule drivers, not only by inclination, but by "previous condition of servitude." Well, at length the detail was complete, and two men from each company, in charge of a commissioned officer, proceeded to Covington to procure the number of mules necessary for the transportation of the Regiment. Twenty men, in the vigor and prime of life, refusing numerous offers of ten dollars apiece for their job, with hearts elate and with buoyant feelings trudged off down the pike rejoicing in their opportunities. The sequel, kind reader! They returned, yes they returned in the evening the maddest set of men that Covington's green hills had seen for many a day; the maimed, the halt, the lame, and we were going to say the blind, but the storm had not been quite that severe. Every mule in each team, with the exception perhaps of one to the team, were as ignorant of restraint as when in blissful happiness it sucked its dam in the old home pasture. The men who had been detailed for teamsters found the animals in a "corral," the Quartermaster of the Post, with his helpers, in attendance. The mules were as wild as buffaloes on their native plains, and were caught by the lasso, and dragged out, and turned over to the man who had been detailed to drive and care for them. When the whole number necessary for our use were secured the receipt of our Regimental Quartermaster paid the bill. The next question and the most intricate one, perhaps, that had ever stirred the souls of these detailed warriors was, what shall we do with them? There was the harness, there was the Government wagons, with their broad tires and a lock chain on each side. The question was solved, they must be hitched to those wagons and hitched they were, and up to camp they came, with every wagon wheel locked and two men to each mule. The word soon spread through the camp, the teams are coming! our teams! and we all flocked to the road side to see them. We will carry this thing no farther, but will leave the reader to imagine the rest. We can see them, as we pen these lines, as they appeared to us the next morning, as we stood by and witnessed the harnessing of these Government mules. Their shoulders were a little sore from pulling the heavy wagons, with locked wheels, up to camp, and their ears were chafed by the bridles, and the general sensation was something new to them altogether, and perhaps visions of the old pasture lot at home, where they had kicked up their heels in mulish joy, flashed before their eyes; at any rate, whatever may have been the cause, the hills of Covington never before, and we will venture the assertion, never will again echo back the like of the noise that was made there on the morning when the teamsters of the 125th Ills. essayed to hitch up the teams, which the Government had furnished to transport us and our belongings into the land of the Southron and the chivalry. The braying of the mules, the curses of the drivers, the cracking of the whips, all combined, served to make a noise the like of which had never been heard before in those parts.

CHAPTER IV.

The geography of our country tells us, that the Ohio is a broad river; that, we are willing to admit, and rather than be thought narrow minded, we are willing to say that it is a beautiful river, but when the writer, with his heart filled with patriotism, entrusted himself on its bosom, it was blessed with a remarkable shallowness, at any rate our boats kept getting fast on sand bars, shoals, mud or something else, so often, that it would have been no trouble for us all to have crawled off and footed it down the stream, or back home, but that kind of a boat ride would have had its inconveniences, and that was not what we had come for, so like 'Cassabianca,' whom we used to read about in our school days, we clung to the "burning deck." "Down the river, down the river, down the Ohio," we crawled along, until night fall, when for prudence sake our captain steered into the bank and tied up for the night. Can it be possible, we think, while sitting here penning these lines with peace all around us, that between the cities of Cincinnati and Louisville a steamboat Captain was afraid, after night, to take his craft for fear of enemies? Such, however, was the case, and history will bear record to the generations yet to come, that in the nineteenth century this grand river was navigable only in the day time with comparative safety. But we do not want to let our pen run away with our own private thoughts; we do not want to let our individual feelings get the upper hand, we are endeavoring to write a history, and we want it to be correct; we want it to be a history that each and every member of the 125th Ills. can leave behind him when he "strikes his tent" for the last time; a history that he may leave to those who come after him, that in the terrible war which the Nation went through, when right against wrong prevailed, that he was a partaker in the struggle. What better, handsomer, nobler record can we leave to our posterity?

Our trip down the river was not prolific of any incident that would be noticeable here, suffice it to say that we awoke in the morning to hear the chug! chug! of the boat and knew that we were moving, and that we had not been interfered with during the night. We arrived at Louisville that evening and disembarked on the river bank; but little did we think as we stepped off the boat that there, on the banks of the Ohio, we were to receive our first lesson of what a soldier's life would be. Our past experience we thought had been terrible, but the corn-stalk huts which we had occupied, and laughed at, would have been welcome to us now. The stones on the river bank made our couch, and the canopy of heaven our covering. But for fear that history may not give us our right place, and to show that our hearts beat in unison, we will mention that here it was we met the army of General Buell. It arrived in Louisville the same night that we did, fresh from the battle fields of Corinth and Iuka, and had come to the relief of the endangered city. Northern manhood, Northern "grit," was too much for the sluggish blood of Bragg's army, and our boys beat them in the race and saved the city of Louisville. Never can those who witnessed it, forget that sight. Here they came, neighbor boys, old friends, who had left home only a few months prior to us; covered with the dust and stain of travel, no baggage, no impediments, nothing but their trusty Enfields, and sixty rounds of ammunition in their cartridge boxes, with a blanket to each man rolled up in a coil, and fastened around him, this was all they had, while we, in our clean, blue clothes, with thoughts of our having gone through with an awful experience, met these lads. The impression the writer received that night as we witnessed these boys come marching in, was like the opinion that was expressed by some one in our Regiment: "Boys, we don't know anything about soldiering." Morning found us asleep on the banks of the Ohio, with the river rolling past us, down to that country which never before, in the history of the Nation, had been forbidden ground to any of her sons. But to that land we were bound, and if we remained on the banks of the Ohio we would never get there, so when the bugle sounded the call to "fall in," we were ready to obey the signal. The morning opened bright and cheerful, but towards noon the sun was overcast by clouds, and a drizzling rain set in; but it made no difference to us; of course they could not find lodgings for us that night, but now they had awakened to a sense of their duty, and we were going to some hotel to put up. Yes, certainly that was what was the matter, and we fell into ranks with glee. Our hotel was a cattle pen in the suburbs of the city, and into it we marched.

CHAPTER V.

Our lessons in the life of a soldier were just commencing. Our new camp was, as we have stated, an old cattle pen or corral, and had at one time been surrounded with a good substantial plank fence, now, however, the only enclosure it had was a camp guard. In this place we found three other Regiments, all new recruits like ourselves. The 85th and 86th Ills., and the 52nd Ohio. With these Regiments we were Brigaded, and remained so until the close of the war, the command being given to Col. Dan'l McCook of the 52nd Ohio, who had smelt powder on Shiloh's bloody field.

The rain, which had been a continuous drizzle, now assumed larger proportions, and came down in regular and persistent style. We had no tents, and of course were entirely without protection, but the American soldier is not a man to long remain uncomfortable, when it is in his power to prevent it, so from the fences adjacent, in spite of the guard, we procured some lumber and soon built shelters from the storm. The next day we were moved to a better camp, for the rain had rendered the old cattle yard entirely unfit for use, if it ever had been. But Louisville at this time was crowded with soldiers, camp followers, and all that goes to sustain the life, and corrupt the morals of a large army. The streets daily resounded to the tramp of marching feet, and the hurrying hither and thither of General officers, members of their staff, and mounted orderlies bearing dispatches to the different headquarters through the city. The blare of the bugle, the braying of mules, the thundering of artillery wheels, from the earliest dawn, until far into the night, were reminders that the General of the Army was fully alive to his trust, and was endeavoring to organize the forces under his command into a shape that would render them manageable. As far as duty was concerned, there was not much required of us, so we passed the time making visits to old acquaintances in the 25th, 35th, 37th and 88th Ills. Regiments which had come up with Buell from the South. But at last the order came for moving. Everything was ready and we were to open up the ball which ended at the fall of Richmond, and the surrender of Joe. Johnston's Army in North Carolina.

The weather was very warm, but so far, no sickness of any great moment had appeared among us, but of course there was some to answer the surgeon's call, and receive their allowance of the good things he had for them. We do not wish to cast any imputation on the medical branch of the army, far from it. We are firm in the opinion that no army, either in the fighting nations of Europe, or in any other land, ever had a medical corps that could surpass our own in skill, dexterity, genuine humanity, and a desire to do their whole duty, but it did seem to us that quinine was the sheet anchor of their faith, and so it came to be a standing joke, that quinine would cure all diseases to which our bodies might be subject. On this morning, to which memory carries us back, orders were given that reports of all who were sick, or in any way disabled from marching, should be made out and forwarded to Regimental headquarters, in order that they might be sent to hospital, or if totally unfit for soldier life, to be discharged. We are of the opinion still, and was at the time, that many men were mustered into the service of the government, when our Regiment was organized, who were not fit for the hardships and privations of army life, especially for active service in the field, and this was owing to what seemed to us, the careless examination made by the mustering officer. We were never examined by a surgeon, as to bodily capacity. The only examination made was for each man, as his name was called, to step out three paces and show his teeth to the officer. The consequence was that when orders came for us to leave Louisville, there were a great many who had to be discharged, because totally unfit for soldier's life, and many also who had to be sent to hospital. Others there were, who would have been perfectly willing to have returned home, entirely satisfied with soldiering, if they could only have had the opportunity. One case the writer remembers which had a very ludicrous side to it, and we will insert it here. There were two members of the Company to which we belonged, who were both satisfied entirely with their share of glory, and were willing to resign their positions as "high privates" to almost any one who wanted it. One of these however, would be discharged, owing to his inability to march (this was before the day of the invalid corps) by reason of a severe cut he had at one time received in the foot from an ax, the other boy was a fit subject for powder, but the patriotism which had filled his bosom, when he enlisted had died out. He had gotten all the glory he wanted and "Home—sweet—Home" was ringing in his ears. However, a discharge, in his eyes, was something worth trying for at least, so he approached the fellow who, by reason of his lameness, was to be discharged, and the following colloquy ensued:

"Say, John, I want to get a discharge, how shall I manage it, can't you help a fellow?"