The thirty days of furlough were gone before the re-enlisted men fully realized it. On the 16th of May, the Twenty-ninth Regiment was summoned to the front. The tattered old flags, having on their folds the battle record of the regiment, written by shot and shell, were turned over to the State authorities, and replaced by new ones, bearing in bright, golden letters the same proud inscriptions.

On the 18th, the regiment reached Washington, and went into barracks; on the following day, the transferred members of the regiment arrived in the city from the front, meeting their old comrades, from whom they had been separated for several months. This happy meeting was wholly accidental, and the greetings which followed were therefore all the more cordial. Since their sad parting in East Tennessee, their experiences had been widely different; for while some were fresh from their homes, others had just escaped from the tumult and carnage of the battle-field. The recounting of the hardships of the campaign then in progress, the recital of the thrilling incidents of these battles, the sorrowful tidings brought back by the returning veterans of the loss of this and that old brother, together with the painful certainty that some of those now going to the field would in the course of a few days be sleeping in soldiers’ graves, all operated to invest this meeting with an air of strange sadness, and to inspire in those who engaged in it the deepest feelings of fraternal love. On the morning of the 20th, the boys were compelled to separate, the regiment having received orders to march.

According to a roll prepared by Sergeant-Major Morse, the transferred men under his charge numbered eighty-three; namely, seven members of Company A, four of Company B, sixteen of Company C, eighteen of Company D, nine of Company E, one of Company G, three of Company H, one of Company I, and twenty-four of Company K. If this roll is correct, and the author has no reason to doubt it, then including: Morse and the seven who were killed at the Wilderness and Spottsylvania, it appears that ninety-one members of the Twenty-ninth actually served with the Thirty-sixth Regiment in this campaign. But this does not include all of the men who were actually transferred, as some of them were absent in hospitals and on special duty at the time of the transfer, and never joined the Thirty-sixth Regiment. The order of General Burnside directed that these men should proceed to Washington, there to be mustered out and paid; but not having been furnished with descriptive lists by the commanders of companies in the Thirty-sixth Regiment, it became impossible to properly execute this order. Encountering this difficulty, Sergeant-Major Morse applied to the Secretary of War, who, upon a representation of the facts, issued an order directing Morse to proceed to Boston with his men, and directing Major Clark, U. S. A., there stationed, to muster out and pay Morse and the members of his command. The squad arrived in Boston, May 23, but, upon the presentation of the order, Major Clark declined to comply with it, for the reason that the men were without descriptive lists, and it was therefore impossible to determine what amount was due them. The men were, however, dismissed, and allowed to return to their homes, when, after the expiration of several weeks, descriptive lists having been patched up, with the assistance of the officers of the Twenty-ninth Regiment, these worthy soldiers, who had had so little difficulty in entering the service, but so great trouble in leaving it, were finally mustered out and paid. They were among the best soldiers of the Twenty-ninth, and are deserving of a full share of its honors.

On the 20th of May, the Twenty-ninth Regiment took a government transport at Washington, and went down the Potomac, arriving at Belle Plain on the afternoon of the same day.

The regiment had recruited but little during its stay in Massachusetts, and having been greatly reduced in strength by a variety of causes, some of which have already been named, the number of commissioned officers was now greatly out of proportion to the number of its enlisted men, and in excess of that allowed by law. Accordingly, on the 22d of May, several of the old officers whose terms expired that day, were relieved of command, and left for Washington, there to be honorably mustered out of the service.

Among these faithful soldiers was Captain Lebbeus Leach, then about sixty-three years of age, whose hair was white as “the driven snow.” The loss of his companionship was deeply felt by those who remained to share still longer the fortunes of the regiment. In every place of peril, he had stood like a rock, chiding, by his manner, rather than words, all faintheartedness, and setting an example of bravery that never failed to animate all about him. The sort of stoical indifference which this old man manifested, not only towards danger, but extreme physical suffering, was remarkable, and has been often spoken of by his comrades.

Captain Samuel H. Doten, who left the regiment a little later, May 30, with the deserved brevet of Major, was another soldier of the Puritan type, and was fifty-one years old at the time of leaving the service. He was a man of strong religious convictions, and impressed all his comrades with a sense of his candor; his natural dignity and self-respect won for him that treatment which these qualities always secure, and he left the army deeply beloved by all who had enjoyed his acquaintance and friendship.

The departure of these and other officers furnished another occasion for sorrowful farewells, and was another breaking-up of old army associations,—relations that were sacredly cherished, as they had been formed amidst scenes of danger and suffering.

A provisional brigade of five regiments, among which was the Forty-sixth New York, the old friends of the Twenty-ninth, was formed from among the fresh arrivals at Belle Plain, and placed under the command of Brigadier-General Lockwood. On the 23d of May, these troops broke camp and marched to Falmouth, opposite Fredericksburg, and went into camp.

May 24. Crossed the Rappahannock on pontoons; took the “Bowling Green” road, and went into camp at one o’clock in the afternoon.