Chapter IV: Part 1 (3)

Our company (the remainder of the regiment being in the expedition,) received hurried orders to report in Newbern, and rumors coming in heralded the enemy as advancing upon the city in large numbers. The order to pack up and be ready to march at a minute's warning, was received by us just as we were 'turning in,' and was not very welcome news you may be sure, but to hear was to obey; and in half an hour we were ready for the road, and some talked of the morrow, what the 'row' was all about, whether we should have a fight, and others (myself among the number) went to bed and slept. About three o'clock in the morning I was aroused from a pleasant sleep by my comrades, and heard all around me the hurried tramp of men. Hastily putting on my knapsack, I seized my gun, and went forth to take my place in the line. The night was foggy, and a feeble moon, while it brightened the obscurity a little, lent to the half distinct scene a dreary and confused appearance. A few men had been detailed to destroy the bridge; and the strokes of the axe, the falling of the planks and beams into the water, the hum of the camp--its lights glancing to and fro, contrasted with the solemnity of the surrounding silence (which only echoed noises of our hasty departure, or the hoot of the owl) left a cheerless impression on my mind.

After a march of two hours, we reached our old camp tired and exhausted, to be refreshed by a good dipper of coffee.

The morning advanced but the rebels came not; and as reinforcements arrived by the railroad from Beaufort, all apprehensions of the result of an attack upon the city died out, and the day wore away without any demonstration being made against any part of our lines. Indeed, word came in from our scouts, that the rebels had fallen back, satisfied, no doubt, with having carried out their design of creating a diversion, which would serve to hasten the recall of the expedition.

In the evening we received orders to return to Evans' Mills, which place we reached by nightfall.

What must have been the surprise and dismay of the darkies to work on the mill-dam (who knew nothing of our departure during the night, although we made noise enough to rouse the 'seven sleepers') upon waking in the morning to find the bridge destroyed and the camp deserted. We were told that they no sooner heard of our departure--and the reports, greatly exaggerated, no doubt, of a rebel attack upon Newbern--than, considering it was 'all up' with them, they scattered, and made for the woods--'every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost.' Some of them turned up in the vicinity of Newbern, others made their way to Morehead City and Beaufort, while others were never heard from, and these, it was thought likely, being too frightened to venture out in the clearings, supposing the whole country again in possession of the rebels, were starved to death, or lost their way, and came out somewhere in Dixie--no doubt into the lion's mouth they were trying to avoid.

Poor unfortunates, the sport of every varying breeze of fortune, good or ill. The best fortune for them is as yet but indifferent, while ill fortune is death. They are, alas, no 'chosen people of God.' They have no Moses to organize and lead them out of their land of bondage; no cloud by day or pillar of fire by night to guide them; no ark of their freedom's covenant around which to rally [yes, the starry flag is their ark, and, thank Heaven, wherever it waves over them they are free!] No miracles are vouchsafed for their preservation; no manna from heaven; no quails; no water gushing from the rock to assauge their thirst. Alas! alas! that their pathway to freedom should be beset with so many dangers--that its course should so often lead them through the valley of the shadow of death! Poor creatures! heaven help them through the fiery ordeal in which they are passing!

The old darkies, however, belonging to the mill, together with the others who had not been there when we came, did not skedaddle; but, by turns, kept a good look-out on the Pollocksville road, ready, of course, to leave at the approach of the rebels, though determined not to do so until they hove in sight. Old George took charge of our camp, closed every door, and when we returned, every article we were forced to leave behind, even to the smallest and most trivial, remained just as we had left it.

Back once more in our comfortable quarters, and resuming our old routine of duty, we began to think that we were as good as settled for the winter. Our old pastimes were revived--rambling, fishing, quoit pitching, playing cards, backgammon, and draughts. The same huge fires were kindled and burned brightly in front of our quarters, and at the outposts, for the guards to warm themselves by in the dreary watches of the chilly night, around which, before retiring to rest, groups of smoking men assembled, and spun many a yarn of strange adventure in all lands, from the orient to the Occident, and from the frozen regions of the north to the trackless southern seas--mostly true, I believe, but surely entertaining.

This state of affairs lasted a few weeks longer, when suddenly we received orders to rejoin the regiment, which took the place of the Mass. 23d in doing the provost duty at Newbern. This was about the 20th of November. To some this change was delightful, while to others (and I was one of these) it was not a welcome change. But we packed up--this time with more deliberation--and the next morning when Co. A, 23d regiment, Captain Brewster, came to relieve us were ready to evacuate, leaving everything connected with the camp to our successors, in apple-pie order. I wish they could (or did) return the compliment; but they did not, and were so 'put out' about being put out of Newbern, that they vented their spleen upon the luckless houses occupied by them as quarters, smashing up every thing that might conduce to the comfort of their successors.

Our quarters were on Pollock street, near the market and the office of the Provost Marshal. Co. B's quarters adjoined ours, and F occupied quarters on the other side of the street nearly opposite. After considerable labor in sweeping, scrubbing, making bunks, &c., we became settled down once more, comfortable enough. But our duty was no child's play. We were on guard every second day--the intermediate one being filled up (twice a week) by a march of six miles and a brigade drill of three hours or more. This did not leave much time to ourselves, after cleaning boots, polishing brasses and buttons, and brushing clothes, for we had to appear neat and tidy while on duty.

A provost guard is a kind of police-soldier, and his duties are as multifarious as the character of his office and power is indefinite. His instructions vary in detail from day to day; and, before he goes on duty for the day has a string of orders and regulations, as long as the laws of the Medes and Persians, read to him, often couched in language that could be defined to mean one thing or another, or nothing at all in particular. For example, the guard is told to examine _all_ passes and salute _all_ officers; to permit no fast driving; to allow no soldier or man-o'-war sailor to go by him unless provided with passes properly countersigned; to allow no citizen to pass after a certain hour, without a special permit from the provost marshal; to 'jug' every negro found out after 9 P.M.; to allow no citizen or negro to be abused; to allow no breach of the peace; to permit no horses to be tied to trees; to stop all disturbances whatever indoors or out of doors; to, in fact, keep his eyes 'peeled,' and be continually on the alert, and, if possible, do all the impossible things required of him. Four hours on post (and twice posted) performing this delightful duty, was required of the man detailed for guard. The accommodations at the guard-houses were abominable. The windows were broken, the bunks smashed up, poor fires, and the floors so dirty, and the cricks and crevices around so filled with vermin that one night's experience in the endeavor to get rest in them was generally sufficient to deter most of those who still retained the idea that cleanliness was a virtue from ever attempting the like again.

Major Frankle of the 17th regiment was Provost Marshal, and was a worthy successor of Col. Kurtz, of the 23d (now Chief of Police in Boston.)

I cannot enter into a relation of all the incidents which enlivened the monotony of our provost duty in Newbern, not from lack of good material--that would, perhaps, make thirty or forty pages of readable matter, but want of space admonishes me that it will not pay. Suffice it to say that, with forty or fifty thousand men in the department, a large proportion of whom were in the vicinity of Newbern--the 17th had their hands full, and the lock-up often became overcrowded, as did the jails in time. We had drunken men to arrest--street rows to quell, horse-racings, shootings and stabbings to look after--brawls in bad houses to put a stop to, and arrest drunken and half-crazed men armed to the teeth, and other duty of a no less dangerous character to perform. But I believe we did things 'up to the handle;' in fact I'm certain we did--notwithstanding there were many complaints (as there always must be in such cases) and criticisms of our method of procedure.

To add to our already heavy labor, shortly after we were in the city, the marine battalion (which I have before incidentally spoken of,) had refused to do further duty, and were placed in our custody. These gallant fellows had been shamefully used. When enlisted in New York city, they were promised $18 per month for the privates, or sailors, and pay in proportion for the petty officers. They had been in the service over a year, had not received any pay, clothing, or allowances for the same, and were informed that they would not be recognized in any other capacity than soldiers, with whom they must consider themselves on an equal footing in pay, as in all other respects. Considering this a violation of agreement, they refused as a body to shoulder a musket or do any kind of duty, and thus passively mutinied. The men of the 17th pitied the poor fellows, and showed them many acts of kindness. The Major, too, while he had to enforce their imprisonment, sympathized with the marines, and, I have reason to believe, did all in his power to have their just claims considered, and their wrongs righted; but the knot on the 'red tape' which bound the poor fellows could not be opened, and it was not cut. So, after a two month's imprisonment, they were given the choice of servitude in the forts as criminals, or the alternative of enlisting in the navy, and they wisely accepted the alternative. I think theirs was a case of peculiar hardship. Some of those human kites which abound in large cities started the project of their enlistment, without the approval of the Government, made money out of the affair, and left their victims to curse them for many a weary heartburn, many an anxious, hopeless thought of home, and of a perhaps destitute family.

One of Co. K's men, named Finn, at one time a guard over the marines, allowed two of them to go out to purchase something at the market, but the Major, somehow, discovered the charitable error, and rushing up to the guard, said:

"Vat for you let ze marines go away?"

"But they'll come back again, sir."

"O--fool--fool--I vill have you put under arrest and court-mar_shal_!"

Soon after the marines returned, and Finn, who caught sight of the Major passing, sung out--

"They're back again, Major! The marines"--

But the Major, who was in a hurry, passed him by, angrily exclaiming--

"O fool--fool--o-h block-head!"

"Be jabers," said Finn, looking after the Major, but taking care he was not heard by that officer,--"ye're the first man that ever called me so far out of my name that I didn't lay on the broad of his back!"

There were four other Massachusetts regiments in the department, viz:--the 23d, 24th, 25th, and 27th.

The 23d regiment, Col. Kurtz, was recruited in Lynnfield, which place it left for Annapolis, Md., on the 11th of November, 1861, and reached there on the 16th; and on January 6th, 1862, embarked upon transports as a portion of Gen. Burnside's Expedition to North Carolina.

The regiment, after encountering the fearful storms off Hatteras, was among the first to land on Roanoke Island, and in the engagements which followed bore a conspicuous and honorable part. It then accompanied the expedition up the Neuse, and took an active part in the battle of Newbern (March 14th, 1862), where it lost ten killed (including its Lieut. Colonel, Merritt) and forty-one wounded.

The 23d afterwards did picket duty, and took part in nearly all the expeditions into the interior and along the sea-coast.

On May 7th, the 23d relieved the 25th Mass. regiment doing provost duty in Newbern, where it continued until Nov. 20th, when it was in turn relieved by the 17th.

In January, the 23d formed part of the expedition to South Carolina, but did nothing, owing to a misunderstanding between Gens. Foster and Hunter, and returned, in April to North Carolina, and encamped at a place called Carolina City, near Morehead City.

Later it was transferred to Norfolk, and, I believe, is at present in that portion of the department.

The 23d bears the reputation of being a good regiment, and stands high on the roll of honor. Success to the old 23d.

The 24th Mass. regiment, Col. Stevenson, was recruited at Readville, and formed part of the Burnside expedition to North Carolina, and in the battles of Roanoke Island and Newbern, acted a conspicuous and noble part. This regiment, in common with others, had its share of marching on expeditions and doing picket duty (in which it had several sanguinary engagements with the enemy, who were invariably defeated). It accompanied Gen. Foster to South Carolina, where it has added fresh laurels to its name, as well as in Florida, where it remained until April last. The 24th is a splendid regiment. It is now in the army of the Potomac, and has shared in the triumphs which have at length rewarded that long-suffering but noble and brave army--that has at length came 'out of the wilderness.'

The 25th regiment, Col. Upton, was raised in the western part of the State, and left Camp Lincoln, Worcester, to join Burnside, and take part in his expedition. Little need be said, save that this regiment has inscribed on its banners such names as 'Roanoke Island,' 'Newbern,' 'Kinston,' 'Whitehall,' 'Goldsboro,' &c., &c. This regiment did the first provost duty in North Carolina. The 25th has taken part--together with the 23d and 27th--in the late brilliant advance of Gen. Butler on Richmond, where it has come in for its share of glory and hard knocks.

The 27th, Col. Lee, was also raised in the western part of the State, and left Springfield Jan. 6th, and joined Burnside's troops at Annapolis, Md. The 27th shared in all the battles, marches, and picket-skirmishes in North Carolina. In fact, the history of one of these regiments is the history of the whole. All, alike, have a glorious record, and have earned the same by the hardest kind of fighting, marching and suffering.

In October, the first of the nine months regiments began to arrive. The 44th was, I believe, the first of these--a fine-looking body of men; but seeming more like a regiment of officers than soldiers. Their style of dress, though about the same as the 'regulation,' varied in being of a much finer texture, and containing, at least, two more buttons on the tails of their dress coats than the regulation allowed to privates. (Orders were issued during our stay in the city to cut off the extra buttons, and much ill-feeling was created by the remorseless cur-_tail_-ment practiced by the men of the Seventeenth towards their fellow-soldiers of the 44th.) Some of the men, too, seemed to possess a consciousness of their superiority, induced, no doubt, by their fancied higher social standing at home, and passed the poor three-years men with the same patronizing and patrician air, their eye-glasses clasped upon their noses in the same manner, as when strutting amid their fathers' workmen in Massachusetts, or when promenading the thoroughfares, and ogling the girls (beg pardon, young ladies) at home. It is true they were civil, and mostly well-behaved young men; but their civility, though well intended, was bestowed with a hauteur which had an opposite effect, and left rankling in the minds of their less favored comrades (all soldiers are comrades) a feeling of envy and, perhaps, disgust. Undoubtedly, there were men in this regiment of a very high order of intellect; but there was a class among them composed of puny clerks and school-boys, whose notions of the world and what constituted a man were about as crude as those of any apron-string hero could be; and it was the influence of this class operating as the representative of that better and really respectable one whose good sense kept it in the background, which caused this regiment to be unjustly criticised and hated--and by none more than its co-nine months comrades of other organizations. To show how prejudice will jump at conclusions, it was confidently predicted they would never stand fire; but they did stand fire bravely, and acted in many respects in a most creditable manner for so new an organization. A story went the rounds, and which may not be true, to this effect:--On the Tarboro expedition, the 44th were in the advance, when the cavalry, after waking up the rebs, and finding them in large force ahead, fell back, and their lieutenant (Mix), seeing no one taking the necessary steps in such an emergency, rode up to the captain of an advance company of the 44th, and said:

"Deploy your men, captain; the rebs are close upon us!"

To which the captain replied--

"I don't know how!"

"Then," replied Mix, "right about, and run like hell, or you'll be gobbled up!"

Again, at the battle of Kinston, it was said that the 44th who were laying down, were ordered to charge the rebel line, which had begun to waver and show signs of weakness; that they refused, and the 10th Connecticut (three hundred strong) were ordered up, charged upon the rebels, and, in charging, had to walk over the prostrate 44th. I give this story without vouching for its truth; for, being in another part of the field, I had not an opportunity of witnessing the inception of the charge referred to, though, arriving with our regiment near the bridge by the flank ahead of the main charging column, I had an opportunity of seeing the 44th come up at the double-quick close on the heels of the flying rebels. But the story was told, and told, too, on the battle-field.

At Whitehall, however, no envious tongue could say aught against the conduct of this regiment; and I can here speak of what I saw of them, and can say they acted well under the murderous fire to which they were exposed.

Another anecdote of the 44th, and I have done with them; and, lest I might be accused of harboring any of that feeling towards them I have already alluded to as prevailing in the department, and which I most heartily condemn, I will state that I do not believe one word of it, and only give it a place here to show how far human malignity and envy will make men forget what is due to self-respect and to co-laborers in a good work. During the siege of Little Washington, it was stated that the rebels sent in a flag of truce, requesting the commander of the post to send the women and children, _and the 44th_, to a place of safety, as they were going to assault the town.

The 5th regiment came about the same time the 44th did. They were a fine, hardy-looking set of men, and participated with credit in all the expeditions undertaken during their term of service in this portion of the department.

The 45th regiment was the next--a fine body of men; but they, too, like the 44th seemed to assume too much importance, and came in for their share of ill-will; but, speaking from my own knowledge, I never knew of but one instance in their whole career where they did not seem to be up to the mark, and this time from no fault of the rank and file. The fault, if any, lay with the officers. I allude to a little affair at a place called Cole Creek, on the railroad towards Kinston, in May '63, where, by the Colonel of the 45th outranking our Lt. Col., the regiment had the advance, and when it came in sight of an earthwork manned by a few rebs, the Colonel anxious for his men, and not wishing to be precipitate, seemed to hesitate. Colonel Fellows riding up, asked him why he did not advance on the enemy's work, replied that he thought it too strong.

"Allow me," said Colonel Fellows, "and I will take it with my two flank companies."

The consent was obtained, and companies A and F of the 17th walked into the works, which had been hastily abandoned on their approach by the rebels. As I said before, this result was no fault of the rank and file of the 45th, whom I have seen marching in under fire, with ranks precisely dressed up, and acting with coolness and intrepidity.

The 43d seemed the favorite regiment with the three-years men, who regarded it as the best of the nine months men. They were, indeed, a fine lot of men, and, I have no doubts if circumstances placed them in the post of danger, they would prove themselves fully as reliable as the three-years troops. In saying this, it will, of course, be inferred, that I do not consider the nine-months men as reliable in an emergency as the three-years men; and, I do not think them so, generally speaking--not because the men are inferior in regard to courage or endurance; but because they are not really soldiers but militia, and not so self-reliant as the three-years men.

Of the other nine months men I know but little, save that they were a fine lot of men, and if they did not do anything to distinguish themselves, it was no fault of theirs, but because they lacked the opportunity.

A few words in regard to the feeling of the three-years men towards the nine-months troops. The men of the old regiments, almost to a man (but there were some exceptions) seemed to regard them with a feeling of envy and dislike, and the frequent salutations of 'how are you, three hundred dollars and a bugle?' partly showed from whence the dislike came. I say partly, for the other reason was, that, besides receiving so high a bounty, they could return at the end of their time of service,--which to men who had already served eighteen months, and still had a year and a half to serve, seemed unfair. And certainly, looking at the matter with their eyes, the thing did not seem altogether right, though it might very properly be argued that as the three-years men went into the service with their eyes open, and agreeing to the terms of the Government, they had no right to complain.