Our run to North Carolina was over a sea as smooth as a mill-pond. The voyage could have been made in safety in a canoe; but when within five miles of the harbor, we encountered a southeast gale, which drove thousands of porpoises into the harbor. Our pilot, either through ignorance or carelessness, ran our ship upon the bar. I was standing beside the Captain when the thing happened, and Captain Baxter, quietly drawing his revolver and placing it close to the pilot’s head, soberly remarked: “I have a good mind to put a little light into your stupid rebel brain.” I need not tell you that that pilot trembled like a whipped dog. With the rising tide and the assistance of a tug, we were soon off the bar; and, as we headed for the wharf, I heard Captain Baxter say, “I did not care half as much for getting stuck on that bar, as I do for having the captain of the Merrimac get alongside the wharf before the Mississippi, for I shall never hear the last of it.” At Morehead City we took train for Newbern and camped on the banks of the Neuse River. Here for the first time, we were drilled in the evolutions of the brigade, preparatory to going on the march and into battle.
After a few days of camp life, Company A and Company B were detailed for picket duty at Newport Barracks, one mile distant from Newport City, which consisted of three houses, two barns and a five-by-ten store. Newport City was the trading mart for that section, and many times have I seen a barrel of pitch sold for thirty dollars and a barrel of tar sold for twenty dollars.
Our camp consisted of two companies of infantry, a battery of four guns and a platoon of cavalry. A detail from Company A went every day to a post called Havelock, and the boys from there kept the company well supplied with fresh beef and pork. One night one of Company A being on picket, thought he saw some one stealthily approaching the post. “Who goes there?” rang out on the still night. Receiving no answer, he fired. Alas! his aim was only too sure, for, on inspection, there in the throes of death lay a large black cow. I believe that was the only rebel that Company A ever roasted and ate.
Some of Company A will never forget David B. Hill and the hive of bees and honey he brought into camp one night. The following morning, when his namesake came to inquire after his missing hive, Dave met him on the parade ground, and, passing himself off as commandant of the camp, solemnly declared that he had no men who would be guilty of stealing; but said he: “If I find that one of my command has done so mean an act, I will have the offender punished severely.” This satisfied Mr. Hill, and he was never seen in camp after such positive assurance of the honesty of the soldiers.
Our first march taught Company A the superiority of army shoes over fashionable boots to march in, for the first ten miles found many of the men, as well as the officers, with their boots slung over their shoulders, their feet without stockings, and their heels raw to the quick. The lesson was never forgotten. At Peltier’s Mills the fortunate ones luxuriated on a supper of bread and bacon. The less fortunate were allowed to pass the night in a hog field, where the fleas were thicker than the stars in the “Milky Way.” “Pollocksville Express” marked another episode in our marching history, and we learned that being a soldier did not mean “flowery beds of ease.” Some of these marches were attended with rain, not like the gentle rains at the North, but downpours, mud ankle-deep, baggage wagons with the wheel-hubs rolling on the surface, horses balking, teamers saying everything but their prayers. But we were being hardened for more active and laborious service.
Our first real march began Dec. 11, 1862, at six A. M. In a dense fog our line was formed and soon the march began. There were twelve thousand, all told, infantry, artillery, and cavalry. These, with one hundred and sixty wagons occupied four miles, for we were moving in single column. Just at sunset our skirmishers captured one captain and two privates. This we believed to be a good omen, and some of the boys were heard to say, “We shall capture every rebel we find.” At eleven P. M. we stacked arms and laid down near them for the night; and no one had to resort to opiates to sleep. The next morning a sorer and more jaded set of men could not be found than Company A. Every belt, every strap had chafed to the quick, and water was not to be had to bathe the inflamed parts. But for all this, Company A did not flinch nor cry, “I have seen all the marching I want to see; I want to go home.”
The second day Company A, with the other companies of the Third, was detailed as baggage guard, and vigilantly did we perform our duty from early dawn to twelve at night, when we again halted and were allowed to sleep “on our arms.” We were getting into that part of the country where our enemy might pounce on us at any moment; and we soon learned that it was wiser to build no fires, than to illuminate the sky and thus show “the rebs” our position. As a little recompense for our hard march the previous day, we were allowed to kill quite a number of fat hogs; and in this, Company A was always ready and willing to do her full share.
I recall a little ruse I played on a soldier of a New York regiment. Finding a dead hog still warm, with its hams and shoulders gone, I determined to secure a piece to roast; but, to my chagrin, I found that I had left my knife in my haversack. Then came to me the old conundrum: If you had a bottle of water, how would you get the water without drawing the cork or breaking the bottle? and, knowing the answer, I said, “Push in the cork.” Then taking the initiative, I called to a soldier, saying, “I have a good fat hog here, and if you will loan me your knife to cut out a roast, I will give you all you want.” This he gladly did, so I got my pork and it made a fine roast.
Sunday, December 14th, at twelve o’clock, near Kinston, the Third Regiment went into her first real fight in North Carolina. Being the second regiment in the First Brigade, we had not long to wait before being ordered to take position on the opposite side of a swamp through which was a straight road with water a foot deep. The rebel batteries on the opposite side made it dangerous for passers that way; but through we went in good order. Then the rebels, learning that the Third with Company A were after them, limbered their guns and ran for their lives. Before going into battle, we saw the wounded brought past us, and further on we saw many a brave fellow lying dead at our feet; but each soldier was careful to step aside and not tread on our dead comrades. Our forces captured five hundred prisoners, nine guns which the rebels had spiked, and saved the beautiful and costly bridge over the Neuse River which the rebels had set on fire. The adjutant-general reports two hundred and ten killed and wounded; but to know, one had to see the dead on the field and in the wood, and the wounded in the old Baptist Church. Some were so severely wounded that they begged their officers to end their misery by a shot from a revolver. As Company A was marching past the prisoners, one was heard to say, “Oh! here goes the Third Massachusetts Regiment. They are all drafted men.” This was too much for Corp. Uriel Haskins, and, turning like an enraged lion, he said to the man, “Say that again and I will knock every tooth in your lying jaw down your throat.” The fellow did not repeat his words, for had he, Uriel would have been as good as his word. What a scene the Common presented the following morning. The nice rail fence had strangely disappeared. Beds, crockery, and even ladies’ silk dresses were strewed over the ground; and I suspect that many a fowl that went “crowing to bed” never saw the sun rise. The morning saw us again on the march. We were as glad to be gone as the people were to have us go; our blood was up and we were ready to go into another battle.
Our second battle at Whitehall was an artillery duel, forty battery guns being in action; and, although the Third did not take position on the field, the shot and shell from the rebel batteries were quite as thick as we cared to have them for comfort. Yet not a man of Company A was seen to dodge or try to gain cover. During the battle Colonel Richmond sat on his horse as calm and straight as if on inspection. I saw General Foster walking along the line of fire with the reins of his horse on his arm occasionally giving orders to the officers commanding the batteries. I saw the dead and wounded horses lying on the ground. I saw one batteryman load his gun with canister, and, aiming it at a tree in which were thirty sharpshooters doing deadly work, bring them down as apples fall to the ground; and they didn’t come down because they wanted to. But few of our soldiers were killed or wounded.