Entertaining such opinions pretty generally, great was the surprise of all to observe the head of the column, upon reaching the turnpike, file abruptly to the left instead of the right, and we found ourselves retracing the steps of the day before.
Disappointment and chagrin was depicted in every countenance as we silently wended our weary way. The boisterous, merry shout of the past few days was no longer to be heard; and the troops did not move with that elasticity of step in the retreat (as we termed it) which had characterized their advance, for officers and men had alike become impressed with the belief that some disaster had befallen us, and we were a second time to recross the Potomac.
After a march of twelve miles the command went into bivouac near the village of Springfield. The evening’s meal was moodily discussed, and all went sulkily to sleep.
The reveille of the following morning was not as cheerfully responded to as before; and shortly after taking up our line of march the barefooted (and there were hundreds of them) who, with cracked and bleeding feet had borne the advance march so cheerfully, now began to murmur and complain.
During the day’s march we met about two hundred paroled Federal soldiers who had been captured a day or two before by General J. E. B. Stuart’s cavalry, and ordered to proceed to Carlisle. They were hundred days men, called out by the Governor of Pennsylvania, to repel the invaders of their sacred soil, and had been but a few days in the field. As they passed our bronzed and weather-beaten gray jackets the contrast was striking indeed. The one clothed in new and well-fitting uniforms, the other in rags, and shoeless. Many were the wistful glances directed at their well-cased feet by Steuart’s men, but they passed us without molestation. Not so, however, with the Stonewall Brigade, which was immediately in our wake. The temptation was too great for their commander, General Walker, to resist, and halting the young heroes of a single skirmish, he addressed them pretty much as follows:
“I would judge from your appearance, young gentlemen, you have not been long in the service, and while we have been blistering our feet on your devilish turnpikes, you have been enjoying the pleasures and comforts of home. Your term of service has now expired; return there and remain, for I tell you soldiering is both a disagreeable and a precarious occupation. But before you go—and you have but a short distance ere you meet your friends, and we, God knows, how far without meeting one—I think it but fair we should make an exchange in the way of boots. What say you?”
A hearty burst of laughter was the response at, to them, so novel an idea, and in an instant every pair of shoes was “shed” in army parlance, and tendered to our barefooted soldiers.
It was quite amusing to see the poor fellows move off, picking their way daintily over the rough and uneven turnpike; and from the gait we left them “advancing on Carlisle,” I much question whether they reached their destination inside of several days.
Another incident similar in its character occurred an hour or two after in the Second Maryland. A gallant young non-commissioned officer of Captain William H. Murray’s company, came to me and presented for my inspection what had been a pair of shoes, but were now minus the soles. His feet were in a shocking condition, and he expressed a fear that he would be unable to proceed much farther, unless I could supply him, or grant him permission to “forage” for a pair. Being curious to see how he would proceed about it, “I spreck nottings mit mine mouf, but I spreck like ter tivel mit mine looks,” as the Dutchman would say; and going upon the old adage that “silence gives consent,” the Sergeant quietly resumed his place in the ranks. But a little while elapsed, however, before I observed him gradually fall to the rear of the column; and as he neared me, he pointed significantly to a fat old farmer who was lazily leaning on a gate-post, intently watching the passage of the troops. I aver I did not wink at the Sergeant, but he afterwards persistently maintained that I did. Be that as it may he stepped up to the old fellow, and bantered him for a trade. Now the Dutchman could scarcely speak a word of English, and the Sergeant not a word of Dutch and after vainly endeavoring to make him understand his Saxon, had no alternative but to trade sans ceremoni. So, throwing off his “uppers,” he in the most artistic manner stooped down raised one foot, and in an instant the Teuton stood “one boot off and one boot on.” The fellow followed, the Pennsylvanian never moving a muscle or budging an inch, but watching the strange proceeding in utter amazement. After admiring the “fit” for a moment, the audacious rebel politely bid the old gentleman “good day,” and rejoined his command, congratulating himself no doubt upon the excellent exchange he had made. As we passed out of sight I turned in my saddle and cast a look behind. There he still stood, gazing after us, as if transfixed to the spot, and no doubt soliloquizing, “Ven tat tam fellow prings mine poots pack.”