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

by William H. Osborne

When the morning came, a flag of truce was seen waving from the enemy’s works, and at the same time the city appeared to be in flames. During the night, General Johnston retired with his whole army, artillery, and baggage, and even the large guns upon his works. As soon as it was fairly day, the whole line was ordered forward, and the regiment entered the city. The works were found to be deserted, and the railroad depot and several public buildings in flames; but the fire was quickly extinguished by our troops, and thus a large portion of the city was doubtless saved from destruction. After the regiment had finished its part of the generous work of subduing the flames, the men were dismissed for a couple of hours, during which time they contrived to “do” Jackson quite thoroughly. The gardens were filled with melons and fruits, but of other and more desirable food there was a small supply. Everything of much value had been removed, and many of the deluded inhabitants had followed in the steps of the retreating army, taking with them their personal effects, thus giving the place the appearance of a deserted town. The negroes had the good sense to stay, and, as was invariably the case, they were overjoyed at the appearance of the Union soldiers, testifying to their happiness in the way peculiar to their race.

In the afternoon of the 17th, the regiment had orders to leave the city, marching back to the ground occupied on the 14th. Here it remained, enjoying much-needed rest, till Monday the 20th. Another severe march was before them, a march needlessly hard; and at an unreasonable hour in the morning of the 20th, the reveille aroused the men from their slumbers.

Before the movement began, an order was issued from headquarters, detailing Colonel Barnes Provost Marshal of the corps, and the whole of the regiment as provost guard, with orders to move in the rear of the corps, and to keep everything—men, horses, and wagons—in front. This was the hardest duty the regiment ever performed in the same number of days. For some reason, the march was a forced one; the weather was of the same tropical character that it had been during the three weeks previous, and water not only scarce, but of poor quality. The story among the men was, that the corps was racing with another, the Sixteenth (?); but the more probable statement is, that the corps reaching Vicksburg first would take the transports to go North, there being only a sufficient number of steamers for the transportation of a single corps. The imperative orders given to Colonel Barnes to prevent straggling, required constant watchfulness and almost superhuman efforts, not only on his part, but on the part of his brother officers and the men. Many soldiers gave out, from the combined effects of over-exertion and the enervating influence of the weather. On the second day out, matters in this respect became so bad, that it became necessary to impress into the service, ox-carts, horses, and vehicles of all descriptions which could be found about the country, and use them for the conveyance of the invalids, many of whom had received fatal sunstrokes. The spectacle which the corps presented on the road was wholly unbecoming a victorious army: nearly every regiment had lost even the semblance of an organized body; everybody was straggling along the roads, some riding in carts, and others mounted upon horses and mules, while miles in the rear of this mob was the gallant old Twenty-ninth Regiment, driving the crowd before them. Violent menaces, and sometimes absolute force, were required to keep the stragglers in motion.

For want of ambulances, nearly all the wounded in the battles and skirmishes before Jackson were carried the whole distance from the latter city to Vicksburg on litters or stretchers by details of men. To protect these unfortunate soldiers from the sun, hoods made of pieces of tent cloth were placed about their heads, and green boughs arranged at the sides of the litters.

A large number of disabled horses and mules were left about the country, in the track of Johnston’s retreat, and these were systematically gathered up by General Sherman, when he returned from Jackson, and driven along to the various landings in the vicinity of Vicksburg and Milldale, where, together with the horses and other animals captured by the soldiers on the march, they were delivered up to the quartermasters. Nearly every company of the Twenty-ninth had a large number of saddle and pack animals, which they had ridden and used for the conveyance of their baggage during the march. Company A had some twenty horses and mules, and Company G nearly as many, when they returned to Milldale, having, as they swept along the stragglers of the column, as the extreme rear guard, collected these animals, as well as the jaded and tired-out men, and their work was much lightened by these mounts. As the rear guard approached the Big Black, the soldiers on foot were sent forward into camp, and then about thirty or forty mounted men came in together, most of the latter being men who had fallen out or got foot-sore, and had been picked up and mounted to keep them along with the army.

When one of these motley crowds came in, the commander of the regiment, who was somewhat indignant at the appearance of the thing, hailed the captain in command, “I should like to know, sir, what this means; what sort of a command is this for an infantry officer?” “Irregular mounted infantry, I should think,” replied the leader, as he looked at his crew.

It was on this march that Captain Richardson’s man, nicknamed “French Joe,” came to the conclusion that his captain’s mess kit might just as well be carried by a mule as by Joseph, and, in fact, that the mule might carry “Joe” too, and took one of the mules for this purpose. He had only his belt and some old scraps of rope for a tackling; but this he thought might serve well enough. He contrived a pad out of his own and the Captain’s blankets, and, warned by the example of John Gilpin, he attempted to balance his load and to tie it securely to the sides of the mule, which were well festooned with pots, pans, gridirons, camp kettles, and tin dippers, giving the animal the appearance of the “hawker’s” donkey. After all this varied assortment of wares had been piled upon the animal, Joe kindly allowed a knapsack or two to be strapped on behind, and then mounted, guiding the mule with a rope halter. He had not proceeded far before some of the knots began to slip, for Joe was not a sailor, nor was he a very skilful disposer of weights. Very soon one of the knapsack straps got loose and insinuated itself on the inside of the mule’s hind leg. It tickled him—he kicked. This displaced a camp kettle, which slipped under his belly—he “buck-jumped,” and unseated Joe. Then all the load shifted, the most of it getting under the beast’s belly. He curveted and pranced, he reared and kicked, and cleared the road right and left for more than a mile. The men scattered on every side, for the mule was in earnest, and was no respecter of persons, kicking just as viciously at the officers as at the men. Captain Richardson had no dinner that day, save what he got through the kindness of others; for his coffee, hard bread, and bacon, tin plates and cups, flour, butter, and roasting corn—all the materials of many a savory feast—lay in the dust.

On the 22d, the Ninth Corps reached the Big Black River. General Parke and his division commanders now deemed it impossible, as it certainty was disgraceful, for the corps to continue to march in this manner. The different regiments were here, on the banks of the river, gathered together, and forced to resume their organization. One whole day was spent in this work, during which the men were permitted to rest.

Toward evening of the 22d, the corps moved out of camp, and marching slowly, crossed the Big Black on a pontoon bridge, in the midst of a pouring rain; the troops camped near the river for the night, and the next morning started for Milldale. The regiment was the last to arrive, in consequence of its peculiar duty, and by being the last, lost the first chance to go on board the transports, and was thus forced to remain here till the 12th of August.

During the campaign now closed, the roll of the regiment’s dead had been somewhat increased; and this, with a few exceptions, had been occasioned by disease contracted in the sickly regions of the Yazoo and Vicksburg. Private John Scully of Company A, a faithful soldier, was the first to fall in the campaign, having been killed by a bullet while bravely doing his duty in the rifle-pits before Jackson, July 16. Second Lieutenant Horace A. Jenks of Company E came next, dying of malarial fever, July 26. Lieutenant Jenks had at one time been a sergeant in his company, and was promoted to be second lieutenant for his good soldierly qualities. His death was mourned by all the members of the regiment. First Lieutenant Ezra Ripley of Company B, who died of fever at Helena, Ark., July 28, was a member of the Middlesex Bar before entering the service. He was a gentleman of liberal culture and rarest qualities of both heart and mind. No sacrifice for his country was too great in his estimation, and though not of a robust constitution, yet he never shrank from any exposure or hardship. He performed the terrible march to Jackson, but the seeds of disease sown during those days, already described, soon ripened into death. Private Lyford Gilman of Company B also died of disease at Vicksburg, August 2. He was also a victim of the exhaustive march.