The lieutenants of Captain Richardson’s company were William Pray, a sergeant of Captain Barnes’s company, promoted to be First Lieutenant, and Charles D. Browne of Boston, commissioned Second Lieutenant January 1, 1862 (formerly a private in Co. B, Thirteenth Mass. Regt.).
As early as October 31, 1861, Henry R. Sibley of Charlestown was authorized by a special order from the Adjutant-General’s office, “to raise a company of infantry, to be mustered into the United States service for three years or during the war, and to form a part of the Massachusetts Volunteers.” The order further provided, if the company was recruited within ten days, it “would be accepted as a part of a regiment to be formed of the Massachusetts companies now at Fortress Monroe.” If not recruited within ten days, the enlisted men were to be put into such other companies and regiments as the Commander-in-Chief might direct.
The mention of ten days in this order as the limit of time allowed for the formation of this company seems to have been prompted by a purpose to stimulate the energies of those to whom the recruitment was confided; for while the time was materially exceeded, yet the company was unhesitatingly accepted as a part of the regiment referred to; namely, the Twenty-ninth.
The men who formed this command represented nearly every section of the Commonwealth, though, as no one nor half-dozen other towns contributed so large a quota as Charlestown, and as its Captain and First Lieutenant were citizens of that city, it has always, and with propriety, been spoken of as the “Charlestown company of the Twenty-ninth Regiment.” The men were all volunteers: some were recruited by Sibley, others by D. W. Lee (First Lieutenant), and a few by the State recruiting officers. No bounties beyond the United States bounty of $100, promised after two years’ service, were held out as an inducement to enlist; and though there was not that amount of enthusiasm, exhibited in rapid enlistments, which characterized the raising of troops in April and May, yet there was an utter absence of any of the fallacious ideas about the cowardly character of the enemy, and every man who placed his name upon the roll fully realized all the grave consequences that might follow. The material thus secured was most excellent, and the “Bay State Guards,” the proud name adopted by this company, proved a worthy member of the regiment, and an honor to the “Old Bay State.” Something of the touching and revered spirit of the 19th of April was manifested by the people of Charlestown toward this company of volunteers. The Bunker Hill Soldiers’ Relief Society of that city, an organization composed entirely of ladies, early sought to express their sympathy, by providing each soldier with many articles of comfort; while the men contributed money, reimbursing Captain Sibley for the expenses he had incurred, and presenting the officers with uniforms and side-arms.
The militia system of the election of officers by the enlisted men was permitted in this case, and not abused. Henry R. Sibley was elected Captain; Daniel W. Lee, First Lieutenant; and William R. Corlew (of Somerville), Second Lieutenant.
In view of the fact that the company was soon to leave for the seat of war, appropriate services were held on the afternoon of Christmas Day, at the First Baptist Church in Charlestown, where addresses were made by several distinguished clergymen. The company attended in a body, and the occasion was one of much solemnity, “and also of gratification to the many friends of the company who thronged the house....In the evening of this day, the Guards were the recipients of an ovation at the City Hall, a collation being provided for them by the city, at which the Hon. Richard Frothingham presided.”22 On this occasion was a presentation, with appropriate speeches, of two beautiful swords, with sashes and belts, to Captain Sibley and Lieutenant Lee, together with a revolver each to Sergeants Pippey and Kellam; and the Rev. Dr. George E. Ellis, who was present, stated that he would give to the enlisted man of the company, who at the end of the term of service should be adjudged by the Captain to have been the best soldier, a hundred-dollar United States bond.23
Shortly after this, the company was ordered to Camp Cameron (Mass.), where it was under the general command, for the most of the time, of the Colonel of the Twenty-eighth Regiment, there recruiting for the field; and after that regiment left, guarded the public property, of which there was a large amount, and for the faithful care of which the company was publicly thanked by the Governor.
It is apparent, from what has already been written, that Governor Andrew was endeavoring to carry out the long-neglected plan of erecting the Battalion into a regiment; but the official order, which we here give in full, was not issued till the 13th of December.
“COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
“Headquarters, Boston, Dec. 13, 1861.
“Special Order, No. 626.
“The companies of Massachusetts Volunteers, commanded by Captains William D. Chamberlain of Lynn, Thomas W. Clarke of Boston, Joseph H. Barnes of Boston, Charles Chipman of Sandwich, Samuel H. Doten of Plymouth, Lebbeus Leach of East Bridgewater, Israel N. Wilson of Billerica, now in the service at Fortress Monroe and vicinity, together with the company now in camp at Pawtucket, commanded by Captain Willard D. Tripp of Taunton, will constitute the Twenty-ninth Regiment of the Massachusetts Volunteers. Two other companies will be added to the regiment as soon as organized.
“By command of His Excellency John A. Andrew, Governor and Commander-in-Chief.
“William Schouler, Adj. Gen.”
We have not pursued this subject strictly in the order of dates, as the above order really ante-dated the formation of Richardson’s and Sibley’s companies; but they were in process of formation before this order was issued, and, to prevent confusion in the narrative, we have chosen to complete the story of each company before treating of the organization of the regiment, of which there is much to be said.
On the same day of the foregoing order, Brigadier-General24 Ebenezer W. Pierce of Freetown was appointed by Governor Andrew Colonel of the Twenty-ninth Regiment; on the same day, also, Captain Joseph H. Barnes was commissioned Lieutenant-Colonel, and Captain Charles Chipman Major. The staff and non-commissioned staff were as follows: Orlando Brown of Wrentham, Surgeon; George B. Cogswell of Easton, Assistant Surgeon; Lieutenant Joshua Norton, 3d, of Captain Clarke’s company, Quartermaster; Lieutenant John B. Collingwood of Captain Doten’s company, Adjutant; Sergeant Henry S. Braden of Captain Barnes’s company, Sergeant-Major; Sergeant William W. Davis of Clarke’s company, Quartermaster-Sergeant; John B. Pizer, of Tripp’s company, Commissary-Sergeant; John Hardy of Clarke’s company, Hospital Steward. Rev. Henry E. Hempstead of Watertown was chosen Chaplain in January, 1862.
On the 4th of January (1862), there were several promotions among the officers and men of the Battalion. First Lieutenant James H. Osgood, Jr., was made Captain of his company, in place of Barnes, promoted; First Lieutenant Charles Brady, Captain, in place of Chipman, promoted; Second Lieutenant William T. Keen of Captain Barnes’s company, First Lieutenant, vice Osgood, promoted; Sergeant William Pray of Barnes’s company, First Lieutenant, and assigned to duty in Captain Richardson’s company; Second Lieutenant Henry A. Kern of Chipman’s company, First Lieutenant, vice Brady, promoted; Sergeant John P. Burbeck of Barnes’s company, Second Lieutenant, vice Kern, promoted.
The lettering of the several companies, by no means an unimportant part of the work of organizing a regiment, was determined by the following order:—
“COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
“Headquarters, Boston, Jan. 2, 1862.
“Special Order, No. 2.
“The companies comprising the Twenty-ninth Regiment of the Massachusetts Volunteers will be lettered as follows:—
“The company commanded by Captain Clarke, ‘A’; by Captain Wilson, ‘B’; by Captain Leach, ‘C’; by Lieutenant Brady, ‘D’; by Captain Doten, ‘E’; by Captain Tripp, ‘F’; by Captain Richardson, ‘G’; by Captain Sibley, ‘H’; by Captain Chamberlain, ‘I’; by Lieutenant Osgood (Barnes’s company), ‘K.’
“Colonel Pierce, commanding Twenty-ninth Regiment, will promulgate this order.
“By command of His Excellency John A. Andrew, Commander-in-Chief.
“William Brown, Asst. Adj. Gen.”
The companies of Captains Richardson, Sibley, and Tripp, together with Colonel Pierce, Surgeon Brown, and Assistant-Surgeon Cogswell, taking with them the colors of the regiment, left Boston for Newport News on the 13th of January, 1862, by the Stonington line to New York. At Philadelphia, they received the same bounty which the ladies of that noble city were giving to all the volunteers who passed through it. From Philadelphia, the command proceeded to Baltimore, and from thence by steamer to Fortress Monroe, reaching Camp Butler on the 17th of the month, and joining the Battalion there stationed.
Beside the proper officers of the three new companies, there were commissioned about this time, and assigned to the regiment, Second Lieutenant Augustus D. Ayling, First Lieutenant Freeman A. Taber, and First Lieutenant John A. Sayles. None of these officers had ever been connected with the Battalion, nor, with the exception of Ayling, had any of them seen service. The case of Company E of Plymouth gave rise to the most complaint. The lieutenants of this company were (First) John B. Collingwood and (Second) Thomas A. Mayo. Collingwood was made Adjutant of the regiment; but instead of promoting Lieutenant Mayo, who was a deserving and efficient officer of mature age, First Lieutenant Freeman A. Taber, a beardless boy, possessing very slight qualifications for his office, was placed over, and outranked, Mayo. The fact that this company was composed of a superior class of men, and contained not a few who were even capable of commanding a company, causes the wrong and slight thus put upon it to be still more apparent. Second Lieutenant Henry A. Kern of Company D was promoted to be First Lieutenant to fill the vacancy caused by the promotion of First Lieutenant Brady to the captaincy of that company, and Augustus D. Ayling, a most excellent soldier, formerly of Captain P. A. Davis’s company of Lowell, was assigned to the position of Second Lieutenant. The claims of Second Lieutenant George H. Taylor of Clarke’s company were overlooked, and Sayles, a gentleman of no military training or experience, was allowed to outrank Taylor in his own company, with which he had served since July, 1861.
It would be useless to attempt to conceal the fact that the appointment of the colonel of the regiment was exceedingly distasteful to the officers and men of the Battalion. No fault was found with the manner of organizing the three new companies, and the appointment of officers of these companies, for the good reasons that these officers had been active in the recruitment of their commands, and were doubtless acceptable to their men. The chief cause of grievance of the members of the Battalion, therefore, was, first, the colonelcy of the regiment, and, secondly, the action of Governor Andrew in filling the vacant offices in the seven old companies with new men, and ignoring the just claims to promotion of the old officers and enlisted men of those companies. The well-nigh unanimous sentiment of the Battalion would have dictated a very different election of the chief field-officer, and of several of the new officers of the line. All the new appointments would have been made from among the officers and men of the Battalion, of which there was abundant good material to select from; and on the score of actual service of nearly a year’s duration,—a service beginning at a very early period in the war, when all was darkness and doubt,—it cannot be denied that this sentiment was founded upon the plainest principles of equity. All the bickerings and heart-burnings which subsequently arose in the regiment can be directly traced to this action of our State officials; and to those who are familiar with the facts concerning this matter, it is cause of no little surprise, that the feeling of dissatisfaction thus produced did not result in far graver consequences.
During the winter of 1862, charges of improper conduct were preferred against Colonel Pierce. A court-martial convened,25 and, upon trial, he was found guilty, and sentenced to dismissal from the service. General Mansfield approved of the findings of the court-martial; but General Wool, his superior, disapproved them, and Colonel Pierce was reinstated in his command of the regiment. With the feeling of a faithful historian, to record the facts as he finds them, the author, in telling the story of the regiment, has found it necessary to present this state of affairs, the responsibility for which would seem to rest upon the appointing power.
Some reference has been made to the Sawyer rifle at Camp Butler, in the course of this narrative, and now we are called upon to record a very serious accident in connection with this gun, which occurred on the 11th of February. The guns, of which there were two in the department, were the invention of a man named Sawyer. “His system consisted of cutting in the bore of the gun six radial twisted grooves half an inch deep and rather more than an inch wide from muzzle to breech. The twist was uniform, but the grooves were perhaps a trifle deeper near the breech than at the muzzle.” The shot was a cast-iron projectile, cylindro-conoidal in shape, and plated with lead. Both this gun and the one at the Rip-Raps had been frequently fired during the summer and autumn, and were found to possess great range and power. On the day referred to, a very distinguished party were visiting Newport News, consisting, among others, of the Secretary of War, Hon. Simon Cameron, Senator Henry Wilson, and Secretary Seward. For the entertainment of these visitors, the Sawyer gun, of which so much had been said, must of course be fired. It was for the last time, however, and the shot was to be a test one for extraordinary range. The gun was given its extreme elevation, 30°. This almost nullified the recoil, and caused the greatest possible strain on the walls of the gun. Officers, soldiers, and civilians had clustered around the bastion where the gun was mounted, with field-glasses in hand, to watch the opposite shore, in the expectation of seeing the shell burst there. The explosion was terrific. A portion of the breech, weighing several hundred pounds, was sent high into the air, but so slowly as to be visible in its ascent; and still another piece, weighing nearly three hundred and fifty pounds, which, in falling, struck Private James W. Sheppard of Company B, who but the day before had returned from his wedding furlough, and crushed him to the earth, killing him instantly. Smaller fragments of the gun struck and severely wounded Lieutenant Smith of Company I, and Privates John F. Hall and Seth W. Paty of Company E. Private Charles E. Jones of Company D, who was one of the gunners, was also instantly killed. Others still were injured by the concussion caused by the explosion, and made temporarily deaf. Captains Wilson and Clarke were standing at the time upon the parapet, about ten yards off, and a piece of the gun, weighing as much as a thousand pounds, flew over them, knocking off the hat of one of them, and striking the earth some twenty yards from the battery, partially buried itself in the ground.
Two morals were drawn from this sad affair by two of the officers of the regiment, the one mechanical and the other military. The mechanical moral was, that rifled cast-iron guns, on the Sawyer plan, were a failure, and that, everything considered, it was fortunate that the gun burst at the time it did, for, had this accident occurred in battle, the calamity would have been far more dreadful. The military moral was, that it is a piece of extreme folly to shoot for the amusement of visitors.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Sinking of the “Cumberland” and Destruction of the “Congress”—Fight Between the “Merrimack” and “Monitor”—The “Merrimack” and Other Confederate Vessels Enter Hampton Roads and Capture Three of Our Vessels in Broad Daylight—Our Fleet Shell the Confederate Batteries—Bombardment of the Rip-Raps—Adventures of Captain Drake DeKay—The Army of the Potomac Lands at Hampton—Exciting Scenes in the Department.
The Federal naval force present in Hampton Roads and James River, on the 8th of March, 1862, consisted of the “Minnesota,” a steam-frigate, commanded by Captain Van Brunt, carrying fifty guns; the frigate “Congress,” a sailing-vessel of fifty guns, commanded by Captain Smith; the “Roanoke,” a steam-frigate of the same class of the “Minnesota,” carrying fifty guns, commanded by Captain Marston; the “St. Lawrence,” a sailing-frigate, twelve guns; the sloop-of-war “Cumberland,” twenty-four guns. Beside these were two armed tugs, the “Whilden” and “Zouave,” and a small gunboat called the “Dragon.”
The “Minnesota,” “St. Lawrence,” “Roanoke,” and the tugs and gunboat lay off Fortress Monroe, while the “Congress” and the “Cumberland” were anchored in the James; the former nearest the mouth of the river, and the latter about three-fourths of a mile from the shore, and directly opposite the camp at Newport News. Sometime in November, 1861, the “Roanoke” broke her shaft, and was in this disabled condition at this time. The crew of the “Congress” had, early in March, 1862, been discharged, and the vessel manned by three companies of the Naval Brigade.
The war-vessels of the Confederates in these waters were the “Merrimack,” also known in history as the “Virginia,” carrying ten guns, eight broadside and one at each end; the “Patrick Henry,” six guns; the “Jamestown,” two guns; the “Raleigh,” “Beaufort,” and “Teaser,” each one gun.
The “Merrimack” had been raised by the enemy during the summer of 1861, and constructed into a shot-proof steam-battery, with inclined iron-plated sides and submerged ends. “The eaves of the casemates, as well as the ends of the vessel, were submerged, and a ram was added as a weapon of offence.” This novel vessel of war was commanded by Captain Franklin Buchanan, formerly of the United States Navy.
At about two o’clock in the afternoon of the 8th of March, the long roll startled the garrison at Newport News. The men were quickly in line, and in a few minutes the cry of, “The ‘Merrimack’! The ‘Merrimack’!” resounded throughout the camp. A dense volume of black smoke was now seen at the mouth of the Elizabeth River, and in the course of fifteen minutes the dark form of the foe was distinctly seen. The day was bright and warm; not a breeze rippled the surface of the river. The “Congress” being nearest the enemy, began making preparations for the battle. Her masts and spars soon whitened with her sails, and the four thousand soldiers in Camp Butler stood mute, but with intense anxiety, waiting the opening of the contest. The painful silence that brooded over that strange scene was at last suddenly broken by a sharp, angry “bang!” from one of the larboard ports of the “Cumberland.” The shot struck within a few yards of the “Merrimack,” sending the water in silvery spray high into the air. The signal for the assault thus given was quickly followed by a whole broadside from the “Congress.” For a short time both “Congress” and “Merrimack” were veiled from sight by the clouds of curling smoke. To the surprise and alarm of the garrison, the cloud rose, revealing the “Merrimack” still afloat and apparently unharmed, still approaching. The “Congress” now began a rapid and continuous fire upon the enemy. The “Merrimack,” without replying to this fire, passed close alongside the frigate, and when within a few hundred yards of her, across her bows, opened on her with a rifled gun. The shot entered the frigate, raking her from stem to stern, dismounting several of her guns, and killing and wounding many of her crew, among them her brave commander.
The “Congress” was fairly disabled by this shot; her commander was killed, confusion reigned supreme, and now the Stars and Stripes were hauled down, and the white flag of truce run up to masthead. The frigate slipped her cables and floated helplessly away, the “Merrimack” continuing on her course toward the “Cumberland.”
It was reserved for the latter vessel to make the bravest fight of that terrible and eventful day. As soon as the “Merrimack” was within easy range, the sloop-of-war opened with a whole broadside; but the shot glanced harmlessly from the mailed sides of the foe; and now, with full head of steam, the enemy made a desperate and angry plunge toward his plucky antagonist, sending his ugly prow crashing through her timbers. The prow struck the “Cumberland” under her starboard fore-channels, making an enormous hole. For a few minutes, both vessels seemed to be sinking. The prow had wedged itself so firmly in the timbers as to render it difficult for the enemy to withdraw and save himself from the same fate he had designed for the ship. After a few trials, he succeeded, however, and backing off, took up a position directly across the bows of the “Cumberland,” and opened on her at very close range, the two vessels almost touching each other. In this position the “Cumberland” could only use her bow guns (some three or four); but these were worked with great energy, sending their heavy shot directly at the enemy’s ports.
The shell and canister of the “Merrimack” were sweeping the gun-decks of the “Cumberland” with fearful slaughter. At times, nearly every gun was unmanned, but other brave sailors came upon the bloody deck and renewed the unequal contest. The flag of the “Cumberland” was still flying defiantly from her mizzen-mast; the shouts and cries of friend and foe, the angry and excited commands of the officers, could be distinctly heard on shore.
The sick-bay of the “Cumberland” was filled to suffocation with blackened and bleeding victims, and, what added greater terror to the scene, she was now rapidly sinking. Despite the vigorous plying of the pumps, the water rose to the main hatchway in less than ten minutes after she was struck, flooding her forward powder-magazines, and rendering them useless. The noble ship now canted to port. Many sprang to save the wounded, while other brave tars still stood at their guns, delivering their last fire as the inrushing waters closed over them. Like a creature of flesh and blood in the agonies of death, the sloop-of-war trembled and creaked, her bows plunged into the dark water, her stern mounted high into the air, and down she went, with a roaring, rushing sound of the waves.
The water was now filled with struggling men striking for the shore. The beach was lined with enraged and pitying soldiers. Logs and planks were seized by them and thrown into the water, to aid the swimmers, and others rushing into the water to their arm-pits, seized the half-drowned sailors and brought them to the land. Others of the sailors were rescued by the steam-propeller “Whilden,” Capt. William Riggins, which put off to the scene of the disaster in the midst of the fire of the “Merrimack,” and thus saved the lives of many who would otherwise have found a watery grave. About one hundred of the dead and wounded of the “Cumberland” went down with the ship, and among them the Chaplain, the Rev. J. Lenhart.
The land-battery in Camp Butler, which was chiefly manned by members of the Twenty-ninth, and which mounted some five guns,—among them two 42-pounder James rifles,—was very active during the entire contest between the “Merrimack” and “Cumberland.” When the “Cumberland” sunk, the Confederate ram was a fair target for our men, but their shots were wholly powerless to do her harm. The “Merrimack” replied to several of our shots, one of her shells striking the parapet, and throwing the earth in clouds of dust over the gunners.
The river now presented a scene of great interest. The “Jamestown” and “Patrick Henry,” two Confederate steamers, had arrived, and taking up a position about two miles from our camp, began shelling it with great vigor. One of these missiles passed through a barrack of the First New York, while others cut off the tops of the pines about the camp. These two steamers divided their attentions about equally between the camp and the floating “Congress,” firing at the latter with murderous effect, and in shameful and savage violation of the rules of civilized warfare, the “Congress” displaying all the while her flag of truce.
An attempt was now made to capture our frigate, and tow her off, a prize of war. The steam-tug “Zouave” (Union) immediately ran down to her and towed her to our shore, fairly beaching her, before the Confederate steamers “Beaufort” and “Raleigh” arrived. Upon reaching the “Congress,” these steamers immediately hauled alongside. General Mansfield, observing this movement, ordered Captain Howard, with a section of his light battery, and Colonel Brown, with two companies of the Twentieth Indiana Regiment, to open fire upon these steamers. The order was promptly obeyed, and in a few moments our shots were striking the Confederate steamers, and whistling about the ears of their men, as they were attempting to clamber up the sides and into the ports of our ship, causing them to withdraw, and killing and wounding several of their number. Among the wounded were Buchanan, the commander of the “Merrimack,” who received a severe gunshot wound in the thigh, and Lieutenant Minot of the “Beaufort.” The crew of the “Congress,” her dead and wounded, and some of the valuable movable articles on her, were landed under a fire from the Confederate fleet. Early in the afternoon, the steam-frigate “Minnesota,” the “Roanoke,” and “St. Lawrence” (anchored near Fortress Monroe) attempted to come to the relief of our fleet in the James. The machinery of the “Roanoke” was out of order, and she was towed by two tugs; the “St. Lawrence,” not being a steam-vessel, was also towed. In order to enter the James, these vessels were obliged to pass within easy range of a battery on Sewall’s Point, which did them considerable damage. After passing into the mouth of the James, the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence” both grounded. The entire fleet of the enemy, headed by the “Merrimack,” now quitted the disabled “Congress” and steamed down to attack the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence.” The “Merrimack,” being of deep draught, could not approach nearer than a mile to either of these ships; and her firing being very inaccurate, she only succeeded in striking the “Minnesota” once. For awhile, the small Confederate steamers, armed with rifled cannon, and having the choice of both distance and position, did considerable damage to the “Minnesota,” but eventually the frigate drove them away.
By this time the day was far spent, the sun having already set; and when everybody on shore had begun to consider the sad day’s work ended, the huge monster, the “Merrimack,” was again observed approaching Camp Butler. This time she took the inner channel, and as she came along, her immense chimney towering up among the branches of the trees that overhung the river bank, belching forth volumes of smoke and sparks, her appearance was simply appalling. Arriving at a point where the channel winds in nearest to the shore, the camp was fairly within range of her bow gun. A sudden burst of light, a dismal, deafening roar, and the crashing of boards and timbers were heard almost simultaneously. The large shot passed entirely through the post hospital and the headquarters’ building of General Mansfield, tearing down the chimney of the latter, and nearly burying that venerable officer in the ruins. He was, fortunately, but little hurt, and soon emerged from the house white with plaster. This ended the hostilities of the 8th of March. The “Merrimack” now withdrew, and darkness soon settled down upon both land and water.
The night was one of great gloom and excitement in Camp Butler, as well as in all the Federal camps in the department. Mounted orderlies were riding in every direction, and rumors were rife of a land attack by the enemy’s troops under Magruder. In anticipation of such a movement, the garrison was re-enforced early in the evening by a body of infantry from Camp Hamilton, and every preparation was made to repel the assault.
While the day, which had just closed, had been rendered famous in history by its unexampled occurrences, the night which followed was destined to usher in scenes that will never fade from the memory of those who witnessed them. The frigate “Congress,” which lay hard aground on the sand-beach near the camp of the Twentieth Indiana Regiment, had been set on fire late in the afternoon, and the lurid flames now lit up the bay and strand with a brightness rivaling that of the day itself. Many of her guns were still shotted, and as the fire coiled about them, they began to discharge; a shot from one of them, skimming the surface of the water, entered and sank a schooner lying at our wharf. The flames had mounted each mast and spar, and were leaping out at every port with angry tongues. Heaps of shells, which had been brought from the magazines for the afternoon’s encounter, lay on the gun-decks; these now began to explode, and ever and anon they would dart up out of the roaring, crackling mass, high into the air, and course in every direction through the heavens.
At twelve o’clock, the magazines blew up with a terrific noise. This event had been anticipated by the garrison, and the shores and adjacent camps were crowded with awe-struck gazers. The whole upper works of the frigate had, hours before, been reduced to ashes by the devouring flames; the masts and spars, blackened and charred, had fallen into and across the burning hull; these were sent high into the air with other debris, and as blast succeeded blast, were suddenly arrested in their descent and again sent heavenward. The spectacle thus presented was awfully grand; a column of fire and sulphurous smoke, fifty feet in diameter at its base and not less than two hundred feet high, dividing in its centre into thousands of smaller jets, and falling in myriads of bunches and grains of fire, like the sprays of a gigantic fountain, lighted up the camp and bay for miles.
The yards and rigging of the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence” were filled with men armed with fire-buckets, lest the falling sparks should ignite the tarred ropes of these vessels, and unite them in one general conflagration. The sides of the hapless “Congress” were thrown open by the last explosion, and the next morning, all that could be seen of the once proud ship were a few blackened ribs, a short distance above the surface of the water.
When the soldiers of Camp Butler turned away from that scene to retire to their quarters, it was with heavy hearts. The recollection of the harrowing events of the afternoon was still fresh in their minds; they had now witnessed the total destruction of another vessel of our navy, the loss of which gave joy to the South, a new lease of life to the Rebellion, and operated to postpone the day when they would be permitted to doff the blue and return to their homes.
Sunday the 9th of March dawned, finding the frigate “Minnesota” still aground, her consort, the “St. Lawrence,” having more fortunately drifted into deep water. The day broke fair, and so calm was everything upon both water and land, that it seemed very like a preparation for the funeral of the two hundred brave men who had tasted death on the preceding day. The Confederate fleet could be distinctly seen lying at anchor under their batteries at Sewall’s Point. A column of white steam was issuing from the pipes of the “Merrimack”; it was evident that she was preparing to set out on her second day’s exploits, and attempt to deal the final blow to our navy in Hampton Roads. At about seven o’clock, the “Merrimack” was discovered to be moving, and following her were the other vessels of the Confederate fleet. Upon rounding the Point, the iron-clad shaped her course directly towards Fortress Monroe, but she had not proceeded far before she suddenly turned and steered toward the mouth of the James. The drums of the “Minnesota” were heard beating her anxious crew to quarters. When the “Merrimack” had arrived within fair range, she fired a shot from her bow gun. The shot struck the frigate under her counter, doing her not a little damage. The fire was quickly replied to by the frigate, and now Captain Van Brunt, her commander, signalled the “Monitor,” which up to that moment had lain close alongside of the ship, and which had arrived from New York the night before, to attack the enemy.
This diminutive craft had not until this time been seen by our men on shore, although rumors of its arrival had spread through camp; and as it steamed out upon the bay, wonder as to what it was, and what it would be likely to accomplish, seized fast hold upon all. With apparent confidence in its ability to contend with the monster iron-clad of the enemy, the “Monitor” steamed directly toward it, and when within one hundred yards, opened fire. The report of that gun rang out so loud upon the still air of the morning, as to immediately create a feeling of confidence in the ability of the little boat to contend successfully with the enemy. In less than five minutes from that time, the two vessels were hotly engaged with each other, belching out fire and iron in each others’ faces.
The other vessels of the enemy were by this time fairly engaged with the “St. Lawrence,” “Minnesota,” and the Federal gunboats, and were soon put to flight, keeping well off toward the opposite shore. Shortly after the “Merrimack” had fired her first broadside at the “Monitor,” and had seen her shots glance harmlessly from the revolving turret, she tried the experiment of sinking her, and after backing off slowly, ran at her, head on. The prow of the “Merrimack” struck the “Monitor,” but glanced, and the little vessel swung around, delivering in this position several of her most effective shots in rapid succession. After this the combatants parted, and a brief truce followed, at the close of which the two vessels again neared each other, and a second duel, fiercer and more desperate if possible than the first, ensued.
At one time during the battle, the Confederate steamer “Jamestown” ventured to interfere on the side of the “Merrimack,” but received from the “Monitor” a shot that pierced her sides, and disabled her to such a degree as to cause her to haul off. During much of the time that the two iron-clads were actively engaged, they were scarcely visible from the shore, being enveloped in clouds of smoke; but occasionally the garrison were disagreeably reminded of what was going on by a huge shot from one or the other of the vessels missing its mark and reaching the land. Several of these huge missiles went bounding over the long plain, casting the dust high into the air, and plowing up the earth in deep, irregular furrows.
At about twelve o’clock, while the “Monitor” was apparently resting, being separated by the distance of a mile from her antagonist, the “Merrimack” made a sudden movement towards the “Minnesota.” The tide being at its height, it was doubtless supposed by the enemy that he could reach the frigate, and give her a death-blow with his prow. The “Minnesota” opened upon the enemy with all her broadside guns and ten-inch pivot; “a broadside,” says Captain Van Brunt in his report, “that would have blown out of the water any timber-built ship in the world.” The “Merrimack” replied with her rifled bow gun “with a shell which passed through the chief engineer’s stateroom, through the engineer’s messroom amidships, and burst in the boatswain’s room, tearing four rooms all into one; in its passage, exploding two charges of powder, which set the ship on fire.”26... The fire was quickly extinguished; but the alarm of fire having reached the ears of the men, great consternation prevailed for several minutes. A second shot from the ram went through the boiler of the gunboat “Dragon,” which lay near the “Minnesota,” exploding it, and badly scalding and wounding a number of our sailors. The position of the enemy was now such as to enable the “Minnesota” to concentrate upon him a heavy fire from her gun-deck, spar-deck, and forecastle pivot-guns; and it was stated by the marine officer of the frigate, who was stationed on the poop, that at least fifty solid shot struck the slanting side of the “Merrimack” during this fire, but without producing any apparent effect.
By the time the “Merrimack” had fired her third shot at the “Minnesota,” the “Monitor” had reached the scene of action, and immediately ran in between the two vessels, covering by her turret, as far as possible, the already badly-injured frigate. This movement of the “Monitor” caused the “Merrimack” to change her position, in doing which she grounded. Again the frigate, aided by the “Monitor,” poured into the ram every available gun; but the stanch iron-clad withstood the combined fire of both our vessels, and in the course of a few minutes floated, shaping her course down the bay, being closely followed by the “Monitor.” In the course of this pursuit, the “Merrimack” suddenly turned, and with full head of steam, struck the “Monitor” for the second time with her prow; but the blow produced no effect, while the “Monitor” fired a solid shot that plunged into the enemy’s roof. Then followed a cannonade more desperate, if possible, than any which had preceded it. The “Merrimack” brought four of her guns to bear upon the “Monitor’s” turret and pilot-house. In the latter was Lieutenant Worden, watching the progress of the battle. An immense solid shot struck the house with such force as to loosen the cement about the inside of the structure, and set in motion a fragment of it, which struck the gallant lieutenant in one of his eyes. The concussion and the blow completely stunned him, rendered him senseless, and disabled him for further duty during the battle. Soon after this accident, the “Monitor” stood down for Fortress Monroe, when the “Merrimack” and two of her consorts again turned toward the stranded frigate. Captain Van Brunt had nearly expended all his solid shot, his ship was already badly crippled, and his officers and men worn out by their excessive labor. It is no wonder, therefore, that when he saw the near prospect of another terrible struggle with the invulnerable enemy, that the thought of burning his vessel came into his mind, for, to use his language, “I determined never to give up the ship to the rebels.” Fortunately the “Merrimack” was satisfied that her efforts to further cripple our fleet could not succeed, and being herself more or less disabled, headed toward Norfolk, the “Monitor,” to the unspeakable joy of the spectators, starting in pursuit. The chase, which was continued for several miles, and then abandoned, was not attended with any tiring on the part of either vessel. This was the closing scene of this remarkable battle.
The excitement in Camp Butler was not to end just here. The men had hardly swallowed their dinner, before a number of horsemen came riding into camp, their horses flecked with foam and themselves covered with dust. They had come from the outposts to inform General Mansfield that the enemy in large numbers were advancing, and that an attack was imminent. The long roll was again beaten, and the excited men mustered with no less alacrity than on the previous day. The Twenty-ninth Regiment formed in line of battle just inside the breastworks, and as it stood there anxiously gazing in the direction of the forest, Lieutenant-Colonel Barnes, then in command, rode to the front, and uttered these words: “Men, we may be called upon to meet the enemy in battle this afternoon, the most of you for the first time. Remember that you are the only Massachusetts troops in this camp!” The emotion of pride and sense of responsibility which these simple words awoke in the breasts of the men was manifested by a hearty cheer all along the line. Things looked very much like a fight at that moment; the entire garrison was under arms, and General Mansfield, mounted, was moving briskly about the camp, speaking cheering words to the troops. This was his speech to the Twenty-ninth: “My men, Magruder is up the river with ten thousand troops. I have in camp six thousand men with muskets and a million rounds of cartridges; and so long as there is left me a man, a musket, or a cartridge, I’ll keep that flag flying!” pointing to the post flag flying near his quarters.
The Twentieth New York Regiment was despatched to the “Brick House,” where it threw up entrenchments and remained during the night. The enemy expected that our entire fleet would be destroyed in this fight, and with the “Merrimack” on the river and a large force in front, they hoped for an easy victory; but finding that our fleet still existed, they concluded not to attack, and toward night retired.
The repose and quiet which had reigned so constantly during the long winter of 1861-62, in Camp Butler, were ended by the tragic occurrences of these two days. As long as the regiment thereafter continued to remain at Newport News, scarcely a day passed without its exciting incident; and not infrequently the slumbers of the men at night were rudely broken by the ominous sound of the long roll and the sudden screech of a shell thrown from the “Teaser,” an insolent little nondescript of the enemy’s fleet, which sailed down the river occasionally, and amused herself by firing into our camp.
Ever after the 9th of March, the mails were irregular, the “Merrimack” at times blockading the mouth of the river, and rendering water communication between Newport News and Fortress Monroe difficult and hazardous. The passenger-boat “Express,” which had run regularly twice a day between the fort and camp, was obliged to suspend her trips during the time the “Merrimack” remained at the mouth of the Elizabeth, as she could not enter the James without the risk of being blown out of the water by the terrible guns of the iron-clad, and a small boat of light draught was put on the route in her place. Even this little steamer was obliged, in passing the Point, to hug the shore closely in order to avoid the enemy, and to make her trips after nightfall or before daylight in the morning. In the course of a few weeks our naval force in the Roads began to increase considerably, and the Confederate ram withdrew farther up the river, only occasionally showing herself, and then rarely below Craney Island.
An affair occurred on the 11th of April that was very humiliating, and caused great indignation and alarm throughout the North. During the forenoon of this day, the “Merrimack,” “Jamestown,” and “Patrick Henry” steamed slowly down the Elizabeth into Hampton Roads, directly under the guns of Fortress Monroe and some dozen large Federal vessels. Near the mouth of Hampton Creek were anchored a brig and two schooners, supply-vessels. The Confederate steamer “Jamestown” deliberately ran up to these vessels, boarded them, and towed them off toward Norfolk without the slightest opposition being made by the navy or the fort; and while this disgrace was being visited, unrebuked, upon our flag, several of the sailing-vessels of our navy were hoisting sails and making all possible haste seaward, actually running before they were hurt.
A crowd of highly-exasperated soldiers were looking upon this scene from Newport News, filled with amazement by the strange and unexplained conduct of our navy, and of the Commander of Fortress Monroe. It was impossible that men who had witnessed the brave fight which the “Cumberland,” about a month before, had made with the iron monster of the enemy,—who had seen our noble ship go down with the flag flying, and who had exposed their own lives to save those of her crew,—who had themselves manned the land-batteries, and done whatever lay in their power to destroy the foe,—could look upon this scene without having their soldierly pride stung to the quick, and their feelings of love for the flag severely wounded.
The enemy’s fleet lay in the Roads till near dark, inviting an attack from our vessels, but not venturing to make one. Just as the “Merrimack” was leaving, she bade our fleet good night by firing three shots into it, which were replied to by the “Naugatuck” and “Octorora.”
Not long after this, an attack was made by our fleet upon the enemy’s shore-batteries, extending all the way from Ocean View to Sewall’s Point, a distance often miles or more. The shore was heavily wooded, and these works, in which were stationed small bodies of troops, were erected in the edge of the timber, commanding all the available landing-places. At Sewall’s Point, where there was a large Confederate camp, were several very powerful works, containing one or more bomb-proofs. The movement began about one o’clock in the afternoon, and the line of battle, which was led by the “Monitor,” was made up of about twelve vessels. Beginning near Ocean View, the fleet commenced raining a shower of shot and shell upon the beach and woods. Presently a puff of white smoke was seen rising among the trees, and at the same moment a huge shell exploded just over the masts of one of the gunboats. This was followed by another and another in rapid succession; but the fire from the boats was too severe for the little sand-battery: its guns were silenced and its garrison dispersed in less than fifteen minutes.
While this battle was in progress, some of the leading vessels had stirred up several other works, and a fierce contest ensued, ending, as did the first, in the course of a few minutes. In this manner, the fleet continued along the shore, silencing every battery as it was reached, until it came to the end of Sewall’s Point, where it encountered the bomb-proofs, and met with a more determined resistance. Here the chief part of the fighting was done by the “Monitor,” which, being of lighter draught than the other vessels, lay in near the beach, and shelled the forts at comparatively close range, while the other boats shelled the woods and camp.
The view of this battle from “Signal Station Point,” so called (Newport News), was very grand. The large shot of the “Monitor” would strike the sides of the earthworks, and throw up vast columns of dust and sand high into the air, while the shells from the frigates and gunboats were exploding rapidly among the branches of the forest-trees, tearing away great pieces of their trunks, and scattering the fragments in all directions. At short intervals, a long flash of flame and column of smoke would dart out of the embrasures of the hostile works, showing that the enemy was not disposed to yield his position.
After this bombardment had been going on for an hour or more, the “Merrimack” was seen coming down the Elizabeth, and when within a mile of the Point, every vessel of the Federal fleet turned suddenly and went toward the fortress. The ram attempted no pursuit, but sailed down toward the Point and remained stationary for a few moments; when, as suddenly as they had retreated, the Federal vessels began to return, whereupon the “Merrimack” retired, and the bombardment of the land-batteries was renewed, continuing till well into the evening, but with no decisive results.
A few days after this event (April 19), an affair of some interest occurred, being an attempt on the part of the Confederates to shell out the garrison at the Rip-Raps. By means of a gun of remarkable range, stationed on Sewall’s Point, the enemy was able to throw shell entirely over the little island, which he did more frequently than to hit it. The shelling began late in the afternoon, in the midst of a severe thunder-storm, and lasted until some time after dark, the batteries at the Rip-Raps replying with vigor. It is not probable that either party inflicted any injury upon the other; but the display afforded by the passing shells, made visible by their burning fuses, making graceful curves, sometimes almost meeting each other in the heavens, and bursting in the darkness, was grand and startling.
The department of Fortress Monroe had now assumed greater importance than it had ever possessed before. The attention of the whole world had been turned thither because of the great battles of the 8th and 9th of March, which had revolutionized the system of marine architecture, and furnished examples of human bravery unsurpassed in the annals of naval warfare. But the department was to be the starting-point of one of the greatest of our many military expeditions, and for a brief season the rendezvous of one of the finest armies that ever took the field; namely, the Army of the Potomac. “The council, composed of four corps commanders, organized by the President of the United States, at its meeting on the 13th of March, adopted Fort Monroe as the base of operations for the movement of the Army of the Potomac upon Richmond.”27
The first arrival of troops was about the middle of March, and from that time till the middle of April, transports were constantly arriving in the Roads, loaded with soldiers, horses, and all the munitions of war.
Fortress Monroe and Hampton soon assumed the appearance of great mercantile ports; the wharves were filled with vessels and steamers, and long trains were constantly engaged in transporting the cargoes of these vessels to the headquarters of the army, then established in the vicinity of Hampton. The increased activity in the military affairs of the department was manifest at Newport News, for occasionally troops were landed at this camp, and among them the entire division of General Casey, numbering five or six thousand men, and containing several light batteries, which paraded upon the field near the works. On the 2d of April, the transport steamer “Hero” arrived, bringing a Maine and Pennsylvania regiment. As the steamer was nearing the landing, she was fired at from the enemy’s works at Pig Point, and narrowly escaped being hit. About this time, there came several Western regiments, all of which bivouacked on the plain, and later the camp was largely increased by the arrival of other troops. A part of these were destined to go to New Orleans, and during the latter part of April, took passage on the transport steamer “Constitution,” at that time the largest in the service. When the “Constitution” steamed out of the James, she was exposed to a very severe fire from Sewall’s Point. It was broad daylight, and as she approached the hostile shore, being compelled to keep in the main channel because of her great draught, the enemy opened on her with shell, several of which exploded among her rigging and inflicted upon her some damage; but fortunately none of the troops were hurt, though they were all on deck. Events of this nature, and the daring exploits of Captain Drake DeKay, a very gallant young officer of General Mansfield’s staff, furnished abundant material for camp talk, and kept up a constant excitement. DeKay formed a crew from among the members of companies A and B of the Twenty-ninth Regiment, manned one of the large barges of the “Cumberland,” saved from the battle, and made nightly excursions up the river, capturing on one occasion a schooner, and setting her on fire; and at another time landed on the opposite shore, and reconnoitred the enemy’s position. When the Army of the Potomac began to move up the Peninsula, and rumors thick and fast of great battles and severe skirmishes reached the rear, the excitement was increased tenfold. Among these rumors, which no one, however ingenious or industrious, could have traced to their source, especially to any authentic source, were reports, frequently circulated, that the regiment was to cross the river and attack Pig Point, to join the Army of the Potomac, march on Norfolk, and to do a great variety of other things; and, strangely enough, many of these predicted movements were eventually made by the regiment.
CHAPTER XV.
Departure of the Regiment from Newport News—Capture of Norfolk and Portsmouth—The “Merrimack” Blown Up—The Occupation of the Captured Cities—Camp Harrison—The Regiment Charged with Killing Pigs—It Goes to the Marine Hospital—Patrol Duty in Portsmouth—The Unionists of Portsmouth—The Regiment Leaves the City—Camp Andrew—Camp of Advanced Post—An Attempt to Make the Men Slave-Catchers Fails—The Long March to Suffolk—Ordered to Join the Army of the Potomac—Sail Up the York—The Regiment Lands at “White House.”
Early in May, the following order was issued:—
“Headquarters Department of Virginia, } “Fortress Monroe, May —, 1862. }
“General Orders, No. 40.
“The troops of this command being about to march into the country occupied by the enemy, they are warned that plundering and depredating upon private property will not be tolerated for a moment. The penalty of death will be executed upon any soldier found violating this order.
“By command of Major-General Wool.
“(Signed)Wm. D. Whipple, Asst. Adj. Gen.”
This order, and the movements which soon followed, clearly indicated that a more active life was in store for the troops here, who had performed little else than camp duty for nearly a year.
On the 8th, the new iron-clad “Galena,” accompanied by the “Aroostook” and “Port Royal,”—the latter vessel under the command of the brave Lieutenant Morris, and manned by the survivors of the “Cumberland,”—came up the James, and passing up toward City Point, engaged several of the enemy’s works.
On the 9th, Captain Howard’s Light Battery left the camp and went to Fortress Monroe, and at midnight orders were received for the Twenty-ninth Regiment to march to the same place. The men were aroused from their slumbers, ordered to pack knapsacks, and be in readiness to march at four o’clock the next morning. This was indeed a very brief notice for the men to prepare to quit their old home, to which, because of the numerous comforts they had enjoyed there, they had become strongly attached. Every barrack was a little museum in itself, and each soldier had collected a great variety of useful, and to him, valuable articles. Knowing that he could carry but a few things with him, it became a painful struggle to decide what to take and what to abandon. The regiment was promptly in line at the hour named, but did not march till eight o’clock in the morning.
The distance by land to Fortress Monroe is about twelve miles. The day was warm and cloudless, and the men, not having had at that time much experience in marching, trudged along over the dusty roads, panting from the heat, and reached Camp Hamilton at two o’clock in the afternoon, somewhat jaded. Towards evening, when they had refreshed themselves with a meal made of such rations as they took with them in their haversacks and some hot coffee, they were ordered to “fall in”; and after marching out of a large wheat-field, where they had rested for a couple of hours, proceeded on the road to Fortress Monroe, reaching there a little after sundown, halting on one of the wharves, and in the course of an hour embarking on a small steamboat which was waiting to receive them. A number of other transports were lying in the Roads, filled with troops, all bound on the same expedition. When the steamer cast off from the wharf, the troops on the various boats began to cheer, and cries of “Norfolk!” and “Richmond!” sounded out on the still air of the mild and pleasant evening.
After a delightful moonlight voyage of an hour, the boat approached the shore at Ocean View, where a pontoon wharf, formed of canal-boats and planks, had been constructed. The boat was made fast to this floating structure, and the regiment immediately landed by companies, marching up upon the white sand-beach and forming in line. Just above the beach, on a grassy lawn of several acres, stood the remains of a large building, windowless and dark and deserted; close about this cleared space was the edge of the forest, which stretched as far inland as the eye could see in the dim moonlight. After the regiment had formed on the beach, it marched up to this grass-plot and halted. The men were already weary, and in a few moments they began to lie down on the grass, and soon fell into a sound sleep. At last, after nearly an hour spent here, the men were aroused, and the regiment took up its line of march into the woods, a squad of cavalry going in advance. The road was narrow, rough, and muddy, the branches of the towering trees meeting overhead and forming an arch, shutting out even the light of the stars, and rendering the way blinding dark. The discomforts of the march were much increased by the numerous obstructions the enemy had placed in the road, consisting chiefly of large pine-trees that had been felled across it, through the branches of which the men were obliged to crawl, tearing their clothing, and scratching their faces and hands. The result was, the marching was very slow and exhausting, it being nearly midnight before the halting-place was reached. The bivouac was made in a deserted cavalry camp of the enemy, formed in a little clearing in the forest; on two sides of the enclosure were rows of very comfortable board huts, and on the third, a long line of horse-sheds. All about the camp, fires were burning brightly, indicating recent occupation.
By the time the halt was made, both officers and men were about worn out, and every one shifted for himself, seeking some unoccupied house or sheltered place. “Tattoo” was not sounded that night; the owlish propensities of the mischievous ones were thoroughly overcome by fatigue, and in a few moments the camp was as quiet as a bed-chamber.
After a sound and refreshing sleep, the men awoke bright and early on the morning of the 11th of May. The forest in which they had reposed seemed primeval and boundless. Shaggy green moss hung in long, graceful locks from the boughs of the gigantic pines; the woods were vocal with the music of merry birds; it was one of the most genial days of all the spring. But the boys had not long to tarry here; Norfolk was to be taken, and as soon as breakfast was had, the regiment was to march.
While waiting here, a tremendous explosion was heard; the noise seemed to come from the direction of Sewall’s Point, and the rumor immediately spread through the camp that the “Merrimack” had been blown up. Though the person who started this report doubtless guessed at it, yet such proved to be the fact, and the guess was founded upon the general belief that the Confederates would be certain to destroy the iron-clad as soon as a movement was made on Norfolk.
The regiment “fell in” about seven o’clock, and the march to Norfolk was at once commenced. The road for most of the distance lay through the forest and a country that was almost destitute of habitations. The men were in light marching order, having left their knapsacks at Camp Hamilton on the day previous. Many of the soldiers who performed that march will remember the unsatisfactory statements of the negroes met on the road, as to the distance to Norfolk. “How for is it to Norfolk?” was the oft-repeated inquiry made of these grinning contrabands. “I s’pose dis eighteen mile, massa,” and “a heap of a way off,” were the invariable answers made to these questions. And the same statements were made by them when the regiment was actually within a mile of the city.
At noon, the regiment arrived at a line of breastworks, two miles from the city, enclosing a deserted camp of the enemy, known as Camp Harrison. Intelligence had been received while on the march that Norfolk and Portsmouth had capitulated the night before; and when the long line of works, bristling with guns, some sixty-five in number, greeted the eyes of the soldiers, they inspired no emotions other than surprise that the enemy should have abandoned a position of such great strength, and wonder as to how the city could ever have been taken, if the Confederates had made a determined stand here.
After a brief halt at this place, the regiment was again ordered to “fall in,” and in the course of a half-hour was in the heart of the captured city. The march through Norfolk proved very interesting to the men, though few, if any, demonstrations were made by the people. A solitary house displayed the American flag, and this was greeted with cheers. The regiment marched to the City Hall, from the dome of which the Stars and Stripes were flying. From this point a view of the river was obtained, and, lying at anchor, were seen a number of our gunboats, together with the “Monitor,” all making a liberal display of bunting, and reminding one of a Fourth of July celebration.
At night, the regiment returned to Camp Harrison, where it remained till the 14th of May. The enemy had burned the barracks at this place, and our men, not being provided with tents, were obliged to resort to a great variety of methods to shield themselves from the cold air and dense fogs at night. Rails were taken, placed against the breastworks, and covered with grass and green boughs, under which squads of five and six would sleep; others found lodging in the magazines, which were formed by deep excavations in the earth, covered with logs and sand; others still made them little huts of brush and reeds, while not a few had no other covering than a single blanket. The ground was low and marshy, and the exhalations from the neighboring swamp (the Dismal Swamp) and the accumulated offal of the camp, gave the whole air a foul odor, that eventually would have resulted disastrously to the health of the troops. On the morning of the 14th, however, the regiment received orders to march; and although the men knew nothing of what was in store for them, the order was joyfully received, because any change could not be otherwise than for the better. The regiment marched again to Norfolk, and crossing the ferry, entered the city of Portsmouth. After arriving here, it proceeded to the United States Marine Hospital, and went into camp, being supplied with Sibley tents, which were pitched upon the beautiful green lawn bordering upon the water, the officers taking up their quarters in the hospital.
A report reached General Wool, at this time, that members of the regiment had killed a number of swine while on their march from Ocean View to Norfolk, and the result was the following order:—
“Headquarters Department of Virginia, } “Fort Monroe, Va., May 12, 1862. }
“Brig. Gen. Egbert L. Viele,
“Military Governor of Norfolk.“Sir: It has been reported at these headquarters that certain soldiers of Colonel E. W. Pierce’s Twenty-ninth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers yesterday killed a number of hogs, private property of citizens living near Ocean View, Va. You will use every endeavor to ascertain who are the offenders, and, if you succeed, you will place them in close confinement and report them to these headquarters. If it should be ascertained that this report is true, you will cause the owners to be paid for the hogs at the rate of five dollars for each hog. If the money is not immediately paid, you will order the regiment to return to Newport News forthwith, and send the offender or offenders prisoners to Fort Monroe.
“By command of Major-General Wool.
“(Signed)Wm. D. Whipple, Asst. Adj. Gen.”
The Colonel of the regiment was called upon by General Viele to explain the matter mentioned in the order. The affair was thoroughly investigated; but no evidence could be obtained to show that any member of the regiment killed the hogs, and the name of the person who gave the information to General Wool was requested. Here the whole affair ended; no one of the regiment was executed, nor was the regiment sent back to Newport News in disgrace on account of two or three defunct pigs, that probably belonged to the enemy’s camp, and not to private individuals.
This was a good season for orders. No sooner had the Major-General recovered from his wrath about the hog affair, than he began to think about his “skilful and gallant movement” on Norfolk, and the result was General Order No. 47, as replete with egotism and self-praise as it was long and gusty. The Major-General took great credit to himself for having “captured” Norfolk and Portsmouth, the fact being that these cities were evacuated by the Confederates in consequence of the movement of General McClellan on Richmond, and simply occupied by the troops under General Wool. Not a drop of blood was shed in the movement, and not the slightest resistance made by the Confederate commander. Indeed, the movement did not originate with General Wool, but was commenced upon the suggestion of President Lincoln.
The regiment remained at the Marine Hospital till the 20th, during which time it was almost constantly on duty. The duties performed were those of patrol, provost, and guard. The night-patrol service was sometimes exciting and amusing. The city was filled with dogs, mostly of the species known as “cur”; and as the patrol wended through the dark streets and narrow alleys, the canines would set up their howlings and yelps. Occasionally a large pack of these animals would make a sudden sally from out of some yard upon the passing soldiers, and then would follow a charge with fixed bayonets, from which the insolent dogs generally came off “second best,” leaving some of their pack stretched lifeless in the street.
Some of the women of Norfolk and Portsmouth were quite as spiteful towards the soldiers as were the dogs. The scene was not infrequent of a bevy of finely-dressed ladies parading the streets with small Confederate flags pinned to their breasts, and, on passing a soldier, gathering their skirts closely about their bodies, lest they should touch the hated “vandal.” And not seldom these fiery women would indulge in insulting and taunting language. Another, and, if possible, still more fiendish manifestation of hatred of the soldiers, consisted in politely presenting them with beautiful bouquets, filled with needles. The giver would station herself at some convenient point of observation after doing this, and wait patiently for the soldier to press the flowers to his face, when up would go a loud shout of exultation. Few, if any, indignities were visited upon the perpetrators of these petty, though annoying, insults, the good breeding of our men usually preventing them from indulging in either harsh or insulting language, though their ingenuity generally enabled them to do or say something in return that made their fair assailants feel any way but pleased with the result. There were, however, among the people of Portsmouth, and especially,among the former employés at the navy-yard, those who still loved the Union, and who remembered with gratitude that for many years they and their children had enjoyed a comfortable support from the labor which the Government had regularly furnished them. One day, when Captain Leach’s company was on guard duty at Newtown (a part of the city), in the vicinity of the navy-yard, the loyal people there welcomed them by a display of American flags. The whole settlement was radiant with bunting—streamers, ships’ flags, jacks, and pennants—which had been saved from the yard in April, 1861, when the place was abandoned by the United States officers. How these poor people had managed to keep these emblems of loyalty during the year that had elapsed, was something of a mystery, considering how strict was the surveillance under which all suspected Unionists had been placed. But they had hidden them under carpets, in attics, and cellars; and one old gentleman stated that his had been boxed up tightly and buried in his garden, and the musty, soiled appearance of the flags showed plainly these statements were true.
On the 20th of May, the regiment broke camp at the Marine Hospital, and marched through Portsmouth to the Gosport Navy-Yard, near which it went into camp. The camping-ground was by no means pleasant, nor the means of comfort there afforded great. On the following day, the Quartermaster reduced the number of tents, at which there was considerable fault found; but by this time the majority of the men had arrived at that desirable point in a soldier’s life, where they treated every discomfort and privation as a necessary part of their military experience. Only four days were spent here, when the regiment again moved, this time some five miles from the city, encamping in an extensive clover-field, that was named by Colonel Pierce “Camp Andrew.”
While here, the men were kept quite active in drilling, and in the performance of guard and picket duty. The location of the camp was only a little less unhealthy than that of Camp Harrison. On the 26th, the regiment moved again, going just outside of a line of earthworks that had been thrown up by the enemy during their occupation. At this place, which was called “Camp of Advanced Post,” were also the Twentieth New York and a Pennsylvania regiment. The latter manifested a strange fancy for animals; a black bear, a score or more of dogs and cats, and a troop of monkeys making up the list. On the night of the 30th, occurred a severe thunder and rain storm; the camp was flooded, and the lightning lit up the neighboring forest at every flash.
It was at this place that an attempt was made by a slave-master to pursue his runaway negroes into the camp of the regiment. Captain Samuel H. Doten was officer of the day on the first occasion; the master requested of the Captain, permission to search the camp for his two negroes, whom he suspected were concealed there, having followed the regiment from Portsmouth, but his request was flatly refused. The planter being satisfied that he could not succeed without some authority from headquarters, called on General Viele, and after telling his story, had no difficulty in obtaining from that officer an order directed to the Colonel of the Twenty-ninth Regiment to immediately produce the negroes in question and turn them over to their owner. Armed with this order, the citizen appeared the next day, and demanded of Captain Thomas W. Clarke (who had succeeded Doten as officer of the day), in the arrogant plantation style, permission to search the camp for his missing servants, at the same time exhibiting the order from General Viele. Like his predecessor, Clarke refused to grant the request, but on the ground that it was improper to allow citizens to search the camp, and especially in an enemy’s country, and that, moreover, the order did not give the bearer any such authority. The citizen was therefore retained on the guard line, and the order taken by Clarke to headquarters, where a consultation with the Colonel was had. The order demanded the giving up of the slaves, and thus rendered a search imperative; but it was concluded that the search should be made, not by the citizen, but by the non-commissioned officers of each company. Curious as it may seem, notwithstanding a most thorough hunt was made, and that there were a large number of negroes in camp, the particular negroes inquired for were not found, and the citizen was compelled to return without his slaves.
The officers and men of the Twenty-ninth Regiment never felt a very deep interest in returning refugee negroes to their masters, and had never been educated up to the point of believing it to be any part of their duties as soldiers, in fighting for the restoration of the Union, to aid the slave-masters who were attempting to destroy it. To have felt otherwise, would have been as unjust as unnatural, for the poor negroes were the best, and in many instances the only, friends which the soldiers found throughout the Southern land. Whenever they came into our camps, they communicated to our officers whatever information they possessed about the movements and plans of the enemy; and although this information was seldom reliable, yet it was conscientiously given, its imperfections being mainly attributable to the utter incapacity of the negro to comprehend number or distance.