Recollections with the Third Iowa Regiment

by Seymour D. Thompson

The day was gloomy; but it could not destroy the pleasant effect of the scenery through which we passed. The banks on either side rising majestically under their weight of forest, or gently receding in green fields, with many a little cottage quietly stowed away in their shady nooks; the beautiful towns with their fine residences and shady walks, where, as we passed, the people waved their little flags and white handkerchiefs in applause; the islands—like visions of paradise upon the peaceful waters—fled past us—a panorama of enchanting beauty.

Toward evening we arrived at the beautiful city of Hannibal, and were quartered in two large railroad freight houses, the gravel floors of which constituted our hard beds. The work of unloading and unpacking our baggage furnished a scene of indescribable confusion. It was impossible for every one to find what belonged to him; and what one lost out of his own, he generally endeavored to make up from his neighbor's pile,—a game in which some succeeded much better than others. In this situation we passed the following day, which was a beautiful one, waiting for the train to arrive which was to take us westward over the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad.

We formed the acquaintance of several members of the Sixteenth Illinois, two companies of which were stationed here. They doted largely on the good times they were having, and how much they enjoyed the hospitality of the good Union people of Hannibal. Toward evening our regiment marched through the city and had a dress parade, which was witnessed by a large crowd of citizens.

The following morning, July 1st, we got on board a long passenger train with our effects, and, at ten o'clock, the whistle sounded and we moved on. Passing out of the city, and all along the route, the citizens greeted us with many demonstrations of enthusiasm. But we already began to get tired of this. We began to do less cheering and waving of hats, and more sober thinking about our situation and the realities we were about to encounter. We were moving into the enemy's country without a knapsack, haversack, or canteen,—without a mule or wagon of transportation,—without a cartridge box or a cartridge,—nothing but empty muskets with bright bayonets. The country was on fire with treason. The people were everywhere organizing to resist the Federal forces. The Union people received us joyfully; but according to their own statements, they were in a minority, hesitating, purposeless, powerless. It is true, that at Hannibal they had organized three companies of home guards who had one piece of artillery. Such was the condition of things when, almost totally unequipped, we moved into the interior of Missouri. The risk was enormous. It was alike a risk of safety and of reputation. The railroad led directly through the country where Brigadier General Thomas Harris was organizing his rebel forces. A hundred determined men could have thrown our train off the track and captured all of us. It is scarcely possible to conceive of greater stupidity than to take troops into such a country in this condition. We were perfectly helpless. We could not have withstood fifty armed men. The ignorance of the enemy alone was our good fortune.

But we dismissed apprehensions, and occupied our minds with contemplating the beautiful landscape on either side of us. There was an indescribable charm in this railroad ride. It was moving upon the enemy at a rate we had never dreamed of. The forests were full of wild flowers and song birds whose notes we could not hear; the level prairie sometimes stretching away in endless distance, sometimes bounded by long stretches of forest that looked like infantry arrayed for battle; the lofty hills and wide green bottoms—a dissolving view, ever vanishing and reappearing. We were without rations; but the train made frequent halts at the stations, during which we would rush to the stores and buy whatever we wanted.

At dark the train arrived, when two companies under Captain Stone were left as a garrison. Four miles beyond, at the bridge over Grand River, Captain Sladden was left, with his company, C.

A mile further, the train discharged the remaining seven companies at the little village of Utica. It was now nine o'clock at night. Our baggage had to be brought from the cars, (and in those days we carried as much baggage as a division does now), wood and water had to be got, and no one knew where to get it; every thing was to be done; the night was quite dark, and the roads full of ditches. It was a scene, had it been possible to see any thing, of exquisite confusion. No one, unless he has been with them, can appreciate the inconvenience a regiment of young troops experience in camping for the night for the first time under such circumstances. But we managed to get through it all by midnight, and, then, lying down upon the wet ground, without a picket posted or a cartridge at hand, we slept.

The following day we established our camp near the town on a beautiful greensward, surrounded for the most part by young timber. We found the water in its vicinity poor and unwholesome. It was here that our quartermaster treated us for the first time to the luxury of pilot bread, then known by the name of crackers, but since vulgarly called "hard tack"—a luxury we have seldom wanted since. At night we received four rounds of ammunition to the man, and were admonished to be prepared for a sudden attack. Again we had no pickets posted. A vigorous attack by a small party of men would have utterly disorganized us. Let us thank the combination of accidents, which, in spite of the carelessness of our commanding officers, saved us from such a misfortune.

Before the arrival of Federal troops in this section, the rebels had everything their own way. They had organized bands or companies at different points, and by threats and acts of violence had terrified the Union people into silence. But when the troops arrived, these bands precipitately fled, and it became the turn of the Union people to rule and rejoice. On our arrival at Utica two or three rebels showed the cloven foot by endeavoring to escape by flight; but, they were captured, and, after being confined two or three days in our guard tent, they were released on taking the oath, to the great astonishment and indignation of the boys, who proposed various punishments instead, among which hanging figured conspicuously.