To those accustomed to the dainties of the home table and unstinted in their access to the larder, the black coffee and indigestible sea biscuits, with the suggestive initials "B. C." stamped upon them, soon mollified their love of camp life and cultivated a craving desire to terminate the "cruel war" at the earliest date possible, even at the risk of being hurt or hurting somebody in the attempt.
During the month of November that destructive pest of the camp, measles, broke out in the regiment, and proved to many a foe more to be dreaded than the bullets of the enemy; besides, to go a soldiering in defense of one's country and be ambushed by a disease that at home was regarded as a trifling affliction of childhood, was a source of real humiliation.
About December 14th orders were received to transfer the regiment to Washington. The transfer was anything but a pleasure jaunt. Instead of the commodious and comfortable passenger coaches, the ordinary box freight cars were used, and packed in there, that cold December night of transfer was truly one of misery. The cars were seatless, consequently the Turkish style of sitting had to be adopted by all who did not prefer to stand or were so fortunate as to obtain a seat in the side doors from which the feet could swing with freedom. The night was exceedingly chilly and with no facilities for warmth the discomfort was at the maximum. The day following, the regiment arrived at Washington, where it was lodged for the night in the "Soldiers' retreat," the hard floors of which were as downy pillows to our wearied and cold stiffened limbs. The next day we marched out of the city, passing the Capitol, and formed camp near the Bladensburg road. It was now the dead of winter, a Washington winter, with frequent storms of rain, sleet and snow. The camp was on the lowlands and the regiment experienced to the full the disagreeableness of the mud and slush of "My Maryland." Here we had our first introduction to the Sibley tent, a species of canvas tepee of the western Indian pattern, each of which afforded shelter to a dozen men. A small sheet iron stove, with the pipe braced against the center pole, diffused warmth, while a hole in the canvas at the apex afforded an exit for the pungent smoke of the green pine used for fuel.
It was while in camp at this place we first heard the booming of the enemy's guns away to the westward across the Potomac. These deep notes were of such frequent recurrence that all were fully convinced that a battle was in progress. Steed-like "we snuffed the battle from afar," and many were the expressed fears that victory would perch upon our banners, and the war be ended ere we should reach the Virginia shores.
Alas! poor, ignorant mortals that we were! Little dreaming of what scenes of carnage and hot battle we should be called to witness before the last notes of the hostile guns should be heard. The next morning the papers brought us the news of the battle of Dranesville and the repulse of the enemy, and our sorrow was deep and loud spoken, that we were not forwarded and permitted, at once, to put an end to this southern fracas! Such was our confidence of easy victory!
While in this camp the measles again broke out in the regiment. Many of the men had contracted severe colds during that night of dismal ride from Harrisburg, and cases of pneumonia were numerous, many proving fatal, while others lingered for months in hospitals, either to be discharged on account of disability or to again return to their companies mere wrecks of their former selves.
In February, 1862, the regiment broke camp, and crossing the Potomac, took its place in the left wing of the army near Fort Lyon, below Alexandria. Here in the organization of the army it was assigned to Jameson's brigade of Heintzelman's division, which later, upon the organization of the army corps, constituted the first brigade, first division, third corps, commanded respectively by Generals Jameson, Hamilton and Heintzelman, General Hamilton later being superseded in division command by that intrepid and fearless fighter, General Philip Kearny, whom the enemy dubbed with the uneuphoneous soubriquet of the "One Armed Devil." The brigade as then organized consisted of the 57th, 63d, 105th Pennsylvania regiments and the 87th New York, and from that date so long as the old Third corps existed these Pennsylvania regiments retained their place side by side. Our associations were most pleasant, many last friendships were formed, and the courage of each was ever held in highest esteem by the others.
On March 1st, Colonel Maxwell resigned his commission as colonel of the regiment and was succeeded by Colonel Charles T. Campbell. Colonel Campbell was by education and choice an artillerist, and had seen service on that arm in the Mexican war. He had had command of a battery of Pennsylvania artillery in the three months' service, and had been commissioned by Governor Curtin colonel of artillery and had recruited and organized the first Pennsylvania regiment of light artillery as part of the Pennsylvania Reserve Corps. When, however, the regiment entered the United States' service, such an organization was deemed impracticable and the regiment as a compact body was disbanded and the batteries assigned to the several corps. Thus Colonel Campbell found himself a colonel in commission without a command. But he was enlisted for the war and with uncomplaining patriotism he willingly took his place where duty called. At the first the members of the regiment were impressed with the thought that they had "caught a Tartar." Tall and commanding in figure, gruff voiced and with sanguinary hair and whiskers, the colonel did not give the impression of being a weakling, but it was not long until they began to realize that beneath the rough exterior there beat a considerate and tender heart and in the gruff voice there was a soft chord, and soon the name "Charley" was more frequently on the lips about the camp fires than the more stately title of "Colonel." These characteristics of the new commander were manifested in many acts that the men appreciated. He was always ready to take the rough side of soldier life and share privations with the rank and file, and at the end of a hard day's march he would lie down with only the heavens for a covering with any of the boys rather than ask a detail to erect his headquarter tents. And many a comrade can remember when on camp guard and the weather was threatening, hearing that gruff voice calling from his tent door: "Officer of the day, release the guards and send them into their quarters!"
Gen. Charles T. Campbell