The Barbara Fretchie Incident. The Battle of South Mountain. Death
of General Reno. The Battle of Antietam. Clara Barton. President
Lincoln visits the army. Visited a farmhouse very near a Confederate
Camp.
On September 4th, we left our camp near Alexandria, marched to
Washington, passed through the city and out into the northwest suburb,
and went into camp.
We remained there until the 7th, when we started through Maryland,
marching leisurely along making only a few miles a day through as
beautiful a country as one could wish to see. The evening of the 12th
at early dusk we filed into a great pasture on the east side of the
Monocacy River and went into camp. Lights were beginning to glimmer
across the river and we were told they were in the city of Frederick.
Camp refuse lying about indicated that the field had been used as a
camp ground for troops in the immediate past, and inquiry brought out
the fact that some of Stonewall Jackson's troops had camped on the
identical field the night before. This was enough to set the brains of
the wags in motion and one asked immediately what the result would be
of mixing northern and southern gray-backs? Soon, however, coffee was
served and drank and we lay down to sleep under a most beautiful
Maryland sky.
The next morning we started and marched leisurely down to the river,
crossed over it on an old wooden bridge and marched up into the city.
There a halt was called and we lay in the street an hour or two. We had
been there but a few minutes when the report was passed down the line
that a loyal old woman lived on the street, who had a Union flag flying
from a window and when ordered to take it down by the Rebels the day
before, had refused to do so and it was shot down. Indeed, right
opposite where Company K was resting, was the house, the flag still
flying.
Soon after we learned of this incident, General Reno, accompanied by
an aide, rode down. He stopped before the house, dismounted, and went
in. He remained inside only a few minutes. As he came out an old lady
accompanied him to the door. At the door they stopped for a moment,
then, as he came away, she shut the door. General Reno mounted his
horse and rode away.
Directly the order was given to move on; we marched through the town
and headed toward the Shenandoah mountains, which in Maryland are no
more than a high range of hills.
This account is what I remember of the Barbara Fretchie incident.
Since the war I have learned that General Reno's visit to Barbara
Fretchie's house was made for the purpose of purchasing the flag that
had been shot down the day before. He did not receive it, however,
Barbara being unwilling to part with the flag which had then become
doubly sacred to her. She gave him another, however, which has since
found its way to the Museum of the Loyal Legion in Boston.
As we marched along that afternoon we saw two Johnnies hanging from
the branch of a tree in a pasture a few rods from the road. They had
been executed for foraging by Stonewall Jackson's orders. Toward night
we went into camp near Middletown.
September 14. We remained in camp until afternoon. Artillery firing
was heard off on the mountain late in the forenoon. About two o'clock
we started for the front. As we approached the active part of the field
we had an opportunity to see what a field hospital was like during an
engagement. We were almost up to the firing line going in, when we came
to a little elevation. Behind that hill a field hospital had been
established. The wounded were lying there in large numbers and others
were being constantly brought in. The surgeons were at work taking care
of the wounded, examining, binding up, operating, etc. Near the tables
I saw a pile of arms, hands, legs, feet, etc., which had been
amputated. The bullets were coming over there pretty thick but they
were nothing compared to the sights and sounds seen and heard in that
field hospital. It was the first field hospital I had ever seen; I
never saw one afterwards, and I thank God for that. We were halted
there beside it for a minute or two, otherwise we should not have had
so good a view of it. When the order came to go forward, I for one, was
glad, and I think every man in the company was glad. Every man in the
company I think, preferred to face bullets at the front and at short
range, rather than stay back there, partially covered, under those
conditions. During the one or two minutes we halted there, a little
Michigan drummer boy was brought in. He was a manly little fellow, a
little chap not more than fourteen or fifteen years old. One of his
legs had been badly wounded. One of the boys asked him how it was going
out at the front. He raised himself up on one elbow and said: “Well,
the 17th is behaving very well.” The 17th (17th Michigan) made its
reputation that day as a fighting regiment.
When we got up to the fighting line the Johnnies were falling back
and we simply followed them up clear to the top of the range, and by
six o'clock they had apparently withdrawn from our front. The fight in
our part of the field was then over and our brigade was resting in a
field at the top of the range in Foxes' Gap. The road we were following
over the range passed along on the right side of the field in which the
brigade was resting. At the lower right corner the road made a right
angle, turning to the left, passed along behind an old stone wall
directly in front of us, at the lower edge of the field for a few rods,
then turned to the right and went off down the west side of the
mountain.
We had been resting there only a few minutes when we were opened
fire on by some Johnnies from behind the wall in front of us. They were
evidently a company of sharpshooters, who in their retreat had turned
back, determined to look for an opportunity to get a crack at us. They
had evidently come up that road until they reached the turn, there they
formed themselves along behind the wall at the lower edge of the field,
and opened fire. General Reno, his staff, and two or three other
officers were sitting on their horses just to the rear of the brigade,
which was massed there by regiment. General Reno was hit at that time
and in that way, and died about eleven o'clock that night. There were
not more than thirty or forty shots fired. A regiment back to the rear
in a place where it could be handled better than we could in our massed
state, moved around on to the Johnnies' right flank and opened fire on
them, killing and wounding a number, and the rest retreated.
About nine o'clock the morning of September 15th, we started down
the west side of the mountain range, heading in the direction of
Sharpsburg. As we clambered along down the hill, an incident occurred
that amused us quite a little, we were meeting little bunches of
prisoners that were being taken to the rear from time to time, they
were in the main, stragglers that had been picked up by our cavalry.
Glancing down a little side road we saw a squad of Johnnies approaching
us, they were being followed by a mounted officer wearing the blue. We
were soon able to see it was one of General Ferrero's staff. This
officer, we learned later, was an inveterate forager and as the general
and his staff passed along down the hill a little while before us, the
officer saw some distance from the main road a rather prosperous
looking bunch of farm buildings, and thinking there was a good
opportunity to do some foraging, rode over there. The piazza was on the
back side of the house and as he rode around the house, there sat seven
Johnnies on the piazza, their guns were all standing in one corner a
little distance from them. He was tremendously startled as well as
they, but he got his senses first, got his revolver out and got the
drop on them before one of them moved. He then ordered them into line
and marched them over to the main road, arriving there as our regiment
was passing along. As we wended our way down the side of the mountain,
the view we had below of the valley of the Antietam was of surpassing
beauty; Sharpsburg across the valley was barely distinguishable; then
to the right and to the left, up and down the valley as far as the eye
could penetrate, stretched one of the most beautiful valleys I have
ever seen. The next day we lay in camp a mile or two from the Antietam
River all day. The morning of the 17th, the battle opened on the right
in good earnest, but not until well into the forenoon did it begin in
our front, we being on the extreme left. Then we were ordered forward
to support a battery. As we lay there behind the hill on which the
battery was located, I had an interesting adventure. A shell fired at
the battery on the hill in front of us struck the ground, bounded and
struck the ground just back of me, I being seated on my knapsack facing
the rear; it plowed a hole under me from back to front and came out
between my feet. The ground settled down into the trench, my knapsack
and I going down with it. Well, that shell was given room as quickly as
possible. I rolled over three or four times and the other boys who were
sitting near did the same, but fortunately it did not burst and no one
got more than a good start. A little later my brother Vertulan,
assistant surgeon of the 19th Massachusetts Regiment, gave me a call.
About noon we were ordered in to take the Stone Bridge. Other troops
had been hammering away at it for some hours but without success. We
were moved down toward the river and opened fire on the Johnnies across
a narrow valley on the other side. As we moved forward we came in sight
of the bridge and the stream just below us. We stayed there in the open
on the side hill sloping down toward the river quite a while, firing
away. After a while we saw the fire of the Johnnies was slackening.
Then we heard some troops down to our left cheering. From their
position they could see the Johnnies were retreating better than we
could. But as soon as we saw they were starting, we started too, and
being much nearer we were easily the first to reach it. We crossed the
bridge, turned to the right and marched up a little way and halted to
wait for ammunition, we having only a few rounds left. For a while
troops came across the bridge and poured past us by the thousand. After
a while we moved up on to the high ground opposite the bridge. A dead
Johnny, a sergeant was lying there on the ground. Harry Aldrich turned
him over and got his portemonnaie out of his pocket. He opened it and
found done up in a little piece of paper a number of five dollar gold
pieces. A little later I came upon a man lying dead holding in his hand
a photograph of a group of children. He had evidently found himself
mortally wounded, had thought of his family at home and had taken that
picture from his pocket to take a last look at the likeness of those he
loved so dearly and had died with the picture in his hand. Toward night
we advanced toward Sharpsburg and took a position on the brow of a
ridge facing the high hill where Lee had his reserve artillery massed,
and there we stayed until well into the evening. We soon fired away all
but one of our cartridges, retaining that one against an emergency. The
Confederate infantry was behind a stone wall part way down the hill
from the artillery. One of the Johnnies killed behind that wall had my
knapsack on his back. He had found it in the little grove beside the
road near the Henry House Hill on the Bull Run battlefield, and carried
it into Maryland.
The knapsack was found and identified by the man who painted the
initials of my name, company, regiment and state on the side of it. He
was a Company K man who was detailed in the hospital department. He
found it in going over the field gathering up the wounded and burying
the dead after the battle. It was there on that ridge that Lieutenant
Holbrook was killed. He was knocked all to pieces by a cannon ball
fired from one of the guns on the top of the hill. He lay about eight
or ten feet to my right at the time.
A regiment came up during the afternoon and took up a position on
our left and stayed there until they had fired away all their
ammunition and then, without regard to us or to holding the line,
retired. We had been ordered to hold that position until dark,
ammunition or no ammunition, and we stayed there until well into the
evening. We lost forty-five of the one hundred and fifty men of the
regiment in that fight. After nightfall we withdrew, went down to the
vicinity of the bridge, had coffee, and were supplied with ammunition.
During the evening an incident occurred, the effect of which was to
last a long time. It was after we had drank our coffee and had received
our ammunition late in the evening. An army nurse asked some of the
boys to go with her and assist in getting some wounded men who were
near some houses outside our picket line up along the Sharpsburg Road.
The boys went, brought in the wounded men and took them to a hospital
nearby, no one getting hit, although they did draw the Rebel fire. The
work being finished and having been done in so fine a spirit, the nurse
wished to know who the men were, and where they came from. Learning
they were Massachusetts men and from her own Worcester County, she was
quite affected and revealed her own identity—Clara Barton of Oxford. A
few moments of friendly handshaking and this first meeting ended, only
for a time, however, for later on she visited us at Pleasant Valley and
vowed eternal friendship. After the war she became a member of the
regimental association, was a regular attendant at the annual reunions
and ever declared herself a comrade of the boys of the regiment.
We remained in camp over night not far from the bridge.
September 18. Early in the forenoon we were moved to our extreme
left, were deployed and did outpost duty. At night we were marched back
to the other side of the Antietam and went into camp in an apple
orchard.
September 19. It was reported early in the morning that the Rebels
had retreated. We soon formed line, crossed the river and moved over
across the battlefield where there were a good many of our dead lying
about. We moved along down to the Potomac where the Antietam empties
into it. A few Johnnies were in sight on the other bank of the Potomac
but disappeared when we opened fire on them.
During the next forenoon who should appear in camp unannounced, but
General Burnside. He had ridden over from his headquarters, wherever
they were, with a single orderly, and in his cardigan jacket; he “had
selected a fine place for us to go into camp,” he said. We were ordered
into line and followed him to our new camp ground. He stayed there a
half an hour or an hour talking with the officers and men. He told us
we could stay there a while and get rested, then rode away.
The reason for this act of kindness toward the old regiment by
General Burnside I have never been able to fully account for. He may
have known that General Reno regarded it with special favor and General
Reno had just been killed at South Mountain. Brigade after brigade had
been sent in to take the bridge at Antietam but it remained for the old
2d Brigade to accomplish the work. The 21st was the only New England
regiment in the 2d Brigade, and he being a Rhode Island man, may have
had something to do with it. At any rate, it made the boys feel mighty
good to have the old general come over and show a personal interest in
the regiment. The capture of the Stone Bridge by the old 2d Brigade
deserves special mention for more reasons than one. One reason is the
following: Charles Carlton Coffin, war correspondent of the Boston
Journal, was an eye witness of the affair. He wrote home to his paper
an account of the battle. In that account he spoke in such enthusiastic
terms of the charge of the old 2d Brigade at the capture of the bridge
that a special edition of the paper appeared a few days later
containing it. In that article he declared, “The heroism of the assault
upon the bridge by the three regiments was unsurpassed either on the
Rebel or Union side, in the annals of the war.”
October 1. We moved down into Pleasant Valley and went into camp. We
remained there until the 27th, resting, drilling, and being supplied
with clothing, shoes, shelter tents, etc.
The 3d. President Lincoln visited the army and there was a grand
review. A review at that time of the Army of the Potomac, just at the
end of McClellan's service with it, showing his great organizing
ability at its best, was a spectacle of exceptional interest. The Army
of the Potomac numbered at that time about 145,000 men. It moved in
formation by company front, double quick time, regiment after regiment,
brigade after brigade, division after division, army corps after army
corps, infantry, cavalry and artillery, tramped, surged and poured past
the reviewing party, at the head of which sat the President. It was a
formidable spectacle and must have pleased Mr. Lincoln. The President,
it must be conceded, made a peculiar impression as he sat on his horse,
his long legs almost dangling on the ground, or curled up and locked
under the horse's body, his tall hat tipped back, among a lot of
military men (every one a soldier from the ground up, and every one as
trim a type as could be wished for) and sitting his horse as if a part
of it. But when the troops had all marched past and the reviewing party
rode away, they could not get away from him. Awkward as Mr. Lincoln
looked, he was at home on his horse. He had a good horse and he stayed
right with them to the end.
A few days later Clara Barton made us a visit. She brought her
knitting with her and stayed all the afternoon. She hunted up the boys
who had assisted her the evening after the battle. She went around
among the officers and men chatting with them in the pleasantest way.
Toward night we had a dress parade. She was made daughter of the
regiment. She made a little speech and there was cemented a friendship
begun under fire which was destined to last to the end of the lives of
all participants.
October 27. Crossing the Potomac at Berlin we again entered Virginia
marching as far as Lovettsville. The next day we were informed that the
9th Army Corps had become a part of the Army of the Potomac. In the
middle of the afternoon of the 29th we left camp and marched until
about sundown. As we passed a farmhouse late in the afternoon I noticed
some boys from companies ahead of us jumping over the wall and getting
cabbages from a patch right beside the road. I followed suit and got a
good one. Later on as the head of the column turned into the field
where we were to camp for the night, I noticed the major was demanding
the cabbages from the boys ahead of us. I did not like the idea of
being cheated out of mine, so I out with my big knife, halved it and
gave one piece to Billy. We had no trouble in each of us concealing his
half, but some one had to have some fun out of it, and as we passed,
the major piped up, “I say, Tom, what are cabbages worth a pound?” The
major, I think, took it as a slap at him instead of being a little fun
among ourselves, for he looked as ugly as a meat axe at us, but he did
not see any cabbages and we did have cabbage for supper. The next
morning we broke camp early and marched along the east side of the Blue
Ridge mountains as far as Vestal Gap. The following day, November 2d,
we moved along up the valley as far as Snickers Gap, where we stayed
two days.
November 4. Reports were flying around camp early in the morning
that the Johnnies were pouring through Ashby's Gap in force and that
they meant fight. At nine o'clock we started for Ashby's Gap, but on
our arrival there, there was not a Johnnie in sight—another of those
old-fashioned false reports. We moved on as far as Manassas Gap the
5th. All the way along as we approached we could hear the artillery at
the gap. Our men occupied the east end and the Confederates the west
end. Some one said the artillerymen were paying their respects to each
other.
November 6. We moved back from the mountain range about ten miles to
the town of Orleans. The next morning we started out and marched a few
miles, then filed left, crossed a narrow field into a piece of woods
and stacked arms. After sitting around a little while I started out to
see if I could find a house and get something to eat a little out of
the ordinary, for to be constantly eating hardtack and salt horse
became a little monotonous after being indulged in month after month.
I passed along through a series of fields on high ground, then
bearing a little to the right passed through a strip of wood from the
farther side of which a ridge appeared a few rods out in the field.
When I reached the top of the ridge, the looked-for-house appeared in
sight a few rods down the other slope, and down to it I went. When I
got within five or six rods of the house, a Johnnie came out and walked
off down towards some wood on the farther side of the field. This
opened my eyes, and then I saw for the first time that that wood down
there was alive with Johnnies—not an ordinary picket post but a
regiment, or a brigade was there. There were tents and camp-fires in
large numbers. I must have been five or six rods from the house, and
the wood where the Johnnies were, some eight or ten rods beyond, when I
made this discovery, but this was no time to hesitate.
I walked down to the house and asked the woman if she had any
corn-bread to sell. She said, “No, I have just sold the last I had to
one of our men.” That “our men” showed me at once that she knew who I
was. I stepped out into the yard, took a look around and sauntered back
up over the hill again. When I got out of sight of the house I
quickened my steps until I was a good distance from that camp.
November 8. A change of great importance has taken place in the
army. General McClellan has been relieved of command of the “Army of
the Potomac,” and General Burnside, the old commander of the 9th Army
Corps, has been put in his place.
Here ends the Maryland campaign. We shall soon start on a campaign
that will be known as the Fredericksburg campaign under General
Burnside.