The History of the Twenty-ninth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry / in the Late War of the Rebellion

by William H. Osborne

Early in the afternoon Nicholasville was reached, and here the column halted for the rest of the day. A distance of seventy-one miles had been performed in less than four days, making an average march of over eighteen miles each day. Nicholasville was on the line of the railroad, and at an early hour on the morning of the 8th the men were aroused and ordered to take the cars for Cincinnati.

The people of Paris had learned that the regiment was to pass through their city, and they at once made preparations to receive them on a generous scale. The houses were gayly trimmed with flags and bunting, and a large concourse of people assembled at the depot. When the train arrived, the soldiers were greeted with hearty cheers, and invited to partake of a tempting collation prepared expressly for them. The pause here was very brief,—only an hour,—and by five o’clock that afternoon, the regiment was for the second time in Cincinnati, meeting with a reception scarcely less cordial than their first, and partaking of a good supper at the celebrated Market Building, the soldiers’ restaurant. It was generally known in the city that the regiment and its brigade had been ordered to join the besieging army of Vicksburg, and the desire of the people to see those who were bound on such an important mission, as also to render them some kindness, was so great, that they thronged around the building where the soldiers were supping in such numbers, that, when the time came for the regiment to leave, it was impossible to form the line in the streets. As soon as the men emerged from the building, hundreds of people rushed toward them, offering them food, flowers, and flasks of whiskey. So great was the confusion thus created, that it required all the efforts of the officers to form the line, and finally it became necessary to sternly order the citizens to clear the streets. This being done, the regiment at once took up its line of march for the depot of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, followed all the way by dense throngs of excited people.

Soon after dark, the men took the cars and started on their eventful journey. The patriotic spirit of the people living along the route was manifested in a manner that caused the soldiers great joy, and strengthened their purposes to do their duty; wherever the train paused, the citizens crowded about the cars and regaled the men with food and drink; and at several stations, choirs composed of young ladies stood upon the platforms of the depots, singing patriotic songs as the train passed by.

At Washington, in Indiana, the train was stopped at the request of the people of the town, and a collation served; the committee of ladies that waited on the soldiers at the tables presented each with a bouquet and a nice lunch to take with them on their trip.

On the 10th, the train arrived at Cairo, Ill., and at three o’clock in the afternoon of the same day the various regiments embarked on river-boats,—the Twenty-ninth and Roemer’s New York Light Battery on the steamer “Mariner,”—and started down the Mississippi River. A stop of nearly three days was made at Memphis, it being supposed that the Brigade was waiting for orders. While here, the men made the most of their chance to study the city, strolled about its streets, and talked with its people. The statue of General Jackson, which stood in one of the parks, had been mutilated by the mob while the city was occupied by the Confederates; the historic words of General Jackson, “The Union—It must and shall be preserved,” inscribed upon its base, having been removed by a stone-hammer. Memphis was a busy place in those days; steamers laden with army stores, cotton, and troops, were constantly arriving and departing; and the city was filled with war rumors of every description.

The weather was pretty hot at this time, and the soldiers—whose destination was Vicksburg, some four hundred miles still farther south, in the midst of an unhealthy region—dreaded the experience in store for them, and expressed many hopes that the order sending them there might be countermanded; but no such good fortune was to be theirs; they were destined to breathe the poisonous malaria of the swamps of the Yazoo, infinitely worse than those of the Chickahominy, and share in the hardships and glories of that wonderful campaign.

On Sunday the 14th, the steamer “Mariner” and the other transports cast off from the pier and headed down stream, and now the question of destination became certain. Two river gunboats (tin-clads, boats covered with boiler-plate iron, musket but not cannon proof) accompanied the steamers as convoys, one going in advance, and the other following, a mile astern. At night the boats tied up to a tree, at White River Junction, where Sherman made his famous raid.

The next morning, the steamers cast off and continued their voyage down the river; Captain Leach was officer of the day, and two of the companies assigned to guard duty about the decks. The other officers of the regiment and the most of the men were below, the day being warm, when suddenly, about ten o’clock in the forenoon, a great commotion was heard on the upper deck. Colonel Barnes hastened to the deck, and observed that the transport just ahead of his, having on board a New York regiment, was sheering off towards the opposite bank, and at the same time the firing of musketry was heard. The captain of the boat began at once to get out his iron shutters, or casings, to place about the wheel-house, as a protection from balls; the commander of the battery, a fine officer, had taken the precaution to mount one of his pieces at the bows. The gunboats had become separated from the transports by quite a distance, and now the bullets were whistling about the decks of the steamer “Mariner” in a lively manner. A party of guerillas, concealed under the levee, were attempting, as they had often done before, to pick off the soldiers. The captain was directed to run the boat in-shore as close as the depth of water would permit. The commander of the battery loaded his gun with shell, and as soon as the boat got within fair range of the bank, fired, the shell exploding right among the enemy. The shell had no sooner burst, than the guerillas were seen scampering away, evidently much terrified, and not a little surprised that what they had taken to be an unarmed transport was supplied with a savage weapon in the shape of a cannon. This was the only interruption which the boats encountered during the trip, but greater watchfulness was afterwards observed. The night of the 16th was passed near a place called Providence, a very desolate region. On the afternoon of the arrival here, a strong wind, accompanied by rain, prevailed, and the boat was blown upon a sand-bar, in which position it remained the most of the night.

At daylight on the 17th, the little fleet commenced on the fourth and last day of the voyage. Towards noon, just as a sharp bend in the river was passed, the gunboat in advance changed its course, and in a few minutes the whole fleet had left the Mississippi and was plowing the dark and sluggish waters of the Yazoo. The land on either side was low and swampy, covered with a thick growth of cypress and other trees, from the boughs of which were hanging long locks of greenish gray moss, giving the place a sombre appearance. In about two hours from this time, the boats reached a clearing on the right bank, when the white tents of a vast army were suddenly revealed. This was Snyder’s Bluff, or Milldale; the troops here encamped forming the extreme right flank of General Grant’s besieging army before Vicksburg. As the boats neared the landing, the soldiers on shore came flocking down to the bank to inspect the new-comers, and observing that their uniforms appeared to be new, immediately took them to be recently-mustered troops, and accordingly indulged in some disparaging remarks, little knowing that they were deriding the sunburnt veterans of the Peninsula, and the heroes of Antietam,—soldiers whose subsequent services before Vicksburg and at Jackson those rough but good-hearted men of the West learned to appreciate. Upon landing, a camp was formed about a fourth of a mile from the river, the Twenty-ninth occupying a position on the extreme right of the Brigade. A large portion of the Ninth Corps had been ordered here from Kentucky, and had arrived a few days in advance of the Brigade of Colonel Christ. The camp of the corps extended all the way from Haine’s Bluff to Snyder’s Bluff, and the service at first required of it was that of observation, rather than direct contact with the enemy. The army of General Johnston was hovering in the rear of Vicksburg, ready to strike our besieging army at any exposed and vulnerable point, and every precaution against such a misfortune became necessary.

No sooner had the corps arrived than the work of constructing fortifications commenced, and two entrenched lines were formed. The first extended along Oak Ridge, guarding the roads that crossed the Big Black River; and the second in the rear of the first, extending from Haine’s to Snyder’s Bluff, through Milldale and the high ground east of Vicksburg, commanding all the approaches from the north and east; of this work the regiment did its full share. The weather was extremely hot, the sky for the most of the time cloudless; and it seems miraculous that men, natives of a northern clime, should have proved themselves able to toil under the rays of an almost torrid sun; yet such was the fact, and, stranger still, the health of the troops was unexceptionably good while here.