Isaiah Stetson could scent a battle afar off.
James H. Petty, while never perfect in the manual of arms on dress parade, in battle could shoot as straight as any one. He was never known to fall out on the march because of sore feet and was in his glory when in a battle.
Jacob P. Hill was known as “the tall man;” William T. Marston as the man who grew so corpulent that Uncle Sam had no uniform that would fit him. Francis Briggs, when “in trim,” could outrun any deer and yell louder than an Ute Indian. Horatio N. Hood never got stuck in the mud with his team.
The first night in Camp Joe Hooker was a sweater to many, a conundrum to a few, and a go-as-you-please to all. Every one kept good-natured for the most pessimistic knew that all things that have a beginning have an end; and so it came to pass that, before reveille, the silence was broken only by the tremendous snoring of the tired merrymakers.
The first day in camp was one of laborious duty. How many tons of stones were buried by Company A no one will ever know, for it is safe to say no one will ever resurrect them; but when the job was completed Company A had as level and as smooth a street as any company in camp. Some amusing things occurred on the guard line. Some of the officers detailed for guard duty would give one set of orders and some another set, and it was hard for the guards to tell which was right and which was wrong. Some of the guards would not be relieved at “arms aport” but would persist in standing at a “charge.” One such was left to enjoy his “charge bayonet” until the next relief: the two hours taught him a lesson which he never forgot. Occasionally some of the guards would fix their muskets firmly in the ground, and, putting coat and hat on the same, go off on a “lark,” returning in time to come in with the relief; but such things were not considered as a grave offense, since we were not mustered into service.
In a few days an inspecting officer came and we were mustered into the service of Uncle Sam. Soon we were uniformed and began the role of soldiers. It took us less time to get used to our rations than to get used to our beds, which at that time consisted of the soft side of a hemlock board, quite different from those beds we had left at our homes.
One afternoon just after recall the boys took umbrage at something the sutler had said or done, and, magic-like, the two regiments in camp gathered with the avowed purpose of demolishing his place of business. I waited with bated breath to see what a few officers would do with two thousand enraged men. Just at the critical moment I saw the stalwart form of Colonel Richmond standing on a box, and with a voice like that “of many waters” and of mighty thunders, he proclaimed, “There will be a roll call in each company’s barracks within five minutes and every one not present will be marked.” Company A was in line in less than two minutes. The roll was called and every member answered “Here.” That little incident has always remained with me as an exhibition of the ready wit and good sense of our beloved Col. S. P. Richmond.
Our stay in camp was of short duration for we were wanted for active service and were ordered to prepare for the South Land. The morning of our last day in camp brought many of the wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, and sweethearts to say the last good-bye to the boys who were to defend the Old Flag on southern battlefields. Alas! that some of the boys who marched away that day, suppressing their tears in a manly way, were never again to look on the dear faces which tearfully said good-bye, silently praying God that they might return again to the old home and to their loved ones.
At Lakeville station we took the train for Boston, where we received an ovation through the city. The right wing of the regiment was assigned to the Mississippi, the left wing went on board the Merrimac. The bell rang, the whistle sounded, and we found ourselves going down the river, our destination being Newbern, N. C. With the exception of nearly running down two schooners and breaking our foreyard arm into three pieces in contact with a vessel going through the “Narrows,” our voyage was uneventful. Company A did her full share of duty, notwithstanding that the rough water in Boston Bay gave to many of the boys all the business they could manage on their own private account.
Our ship, after rounding Cape Cod, anchored in Vineyard Haven. Seeing our consort pass in the early dawn of the following morning, we prepared to follow, and, just as the steam was applied, a large schooner came across our bow. The engines were reversed and we barely escaped a collision. Captain Baxter hailed with this sarcastic remark, “I believe some captains would run all night for the sake of running across a ship’s bow and being run down.” When we overtook the Merrimac we were hailed with, “How did you break your foreyard arm?” and Captain Baxter replied, “Carrying sail, sir.”