A History of the Army Experience of William A. Canfield

by William A. Canfield

I had heard the ladies telling of one Polly Lincoln, who possessed much skill. I thought perhaps she might cure me, so I made further inquiries in regard to her, and learned that she lived most of the time alone in a hut made of logs, not far from the hospital. She gathered her own herbs, made her own medicine, and performed wonderful cures,—so they told me.

With the surgeon’s permission, I soon found her out and told her my complaint. “Oh!” said she, “I’ll fix you all right in a week or two, only keep up good courage.” And to work she went, at once; made me a nice bed on the floor, and fixed me a dose of herb tea in a very short time. I felt very comfortable, I can assure you, that afternoon, as I lay there on the floor, watching that good old Samaritan in her humble home; my heart was filled with gratitude, and I felt safe in her hands.

There was only one room in the house, and that very poorly furnished; still, every thing looked neat and home-like. There were two other soldiers there at the same time; one from the 17th Michigan, with his leg off, the other from Massachusetts, with his arm amputated at the shoulder-joint. She took care of us all, and often assisted at the hospital. I was with her two weeks, and then reported in person to the surgeon in charge. He gave me leave to go back another week. At the end of that time I was fit for duty. But I must not leave this good old mother without saying a few more words. She was, in deed and in truth, a good Samaritan to us all; and there are hundreds who can testify to the same truth; hundreds who will remember her with heart-felt gratitude as long as they live.

The soldier from Massachusetts died in a few days; the other was able to go home in four weeks.

Some time after this, I received orders to report at Camp Convalescent, Alexandria. I stayed there two weeks and then started off with a squad for the front. We arrived at Aquia Creek, on Saturday, October 13. We were put into camp there and told to wait until after the battle before proceeding further. To wait there within sound of that terrible artillery-fire at Fredericksburg, did not suit me. I longed to be with my comrades and share their danger.

With these feelings I went to the Provost Marshal and stated my case. He gave me a pass to report to General Fry, at Falmouth, but instead of reporting to him, I found my regiment over in the city and took my place in the ranks. The boys were glad to see me, but said I was a fool for coming into that slaughter-yard, as they called it. It was my duty, and I was willing to take my chances with the rest.

We went on picket Sunday night, but were ordered to fall back across the river about four in the morning, and at day-light we were in our old quarters, there to do picket duty on the Rappahannock, as the boys said. This was the most discouraging place that I was in during my stay in the army. Any soldier who was there could tell some pretty hard stories of that place. Our troubles there are too well known to every one at all conversant with the history of the war, to need any comment.

A few days after Burnside got stuck in the mud, we received orders to pack up; this was good news for us; we felt sure we could get into no worse place than this mud-hole.

We got aboard the cars at Falmouth; arrived at Aquia Creek about dark, then took the transportation boat and landed at Newport News. This we found to be a change for the better; it was a very pleasant place. Here they gave us tents, and plenty to eat as good as the army could afford. There were some who were not satisfied; and if you had found them in private life, you would have heard them growling continually about something.

Our regiment went into camp about one mile from the landing. Here we had a good drill-ground; drilled six hours each day. I enjoyed my stay in this place very much.