Our breakfast at Baltimore. The trip west. The Reception at Mt.
Sterling. Moved into the town.
The early spring of 1863, found us at Newport News awaiting orders.
Finally, on March 18th, orders came and on the 19th, the 1st Division
went on board transports.
March 26. We went on board the steamer “Kennebeck” during the
forenoon, and in the afternoon started for Baltimore. In the early
morning of the 27th we steamed into the harbor of that city. The 2d
Maryland was in the 1st Division and it was a Baltimore regiment. It
had passed through the city just ahead of us and had arranged with its
friends there, to be on the lookout for the 21st when we came along and
see that we had a good breakfast. Well, there was nothing for sale at
any of the restaurants near the wharf to members of the 21st, but we
were all treated to as good a breakfast as any fellow could wish for.
The editor of the Baltimore American, whom we had become acquainted
with when doing picket duty on the railroad near Annapolis Junction, in
the autumn of 1861, was there to welcome us. After breakfast we fell in
line, marched up to the office of the Baltimore American and the band
played all the national airs. Every one made a speech. We gave three
cheers and a tiger a number of times and then we marched back to the
wharf again. This reception was arranged for by the 2d Maryland, in
memory of the Pollocksville breakfast we gave them May 17th, 1862, down
in North Carolina. We did not leave Baltimore until the next morning
(the 28th), when just at dawn we steamed away and on through
Harrisburg, Pa., and Altoona, where we were given a fine supper at
midnight.
At Pittsburgh, on the 29th, we were marched to a public hall and
given a fine reception; left in the morning for Cincinnati. On the way,
at Coshocton, Ohio, we were received with great cordiality by the
people, were given a fine breakfast and the tables were waited on by as
handsome a lot of young ladies as can be seen anywhere. We reached
Columbus, Ohio, early in the afternoon of the 30th. We were cordially
received there and furnished coffee and sandwiches. After this was all
over and the people who had furnished the lunch had gone home, the
train remaining in the railroad station, some of the boys wandered up
into the town to see the capitol buildings and anything else of
interest. A little way up a guard was encountered, refusing the boys
admission to the town. After some bantering the guard opened fire on
the boys, killing two and wounding a number of others. This so enraged
the boys that there was a general rush for their guns, and had not the
officers been on hand at the time there would have been a lot of blood
spilled. The boys were got on to the train and we left the town as soon
as possible.
The guard that opened fire on our boys was a detail from a new
regiment of Ohio soldiers. How a lot of new soldiers doing ordinary
guard duty in a city like that were given loaded muskets was impossible
to understand. We reached Cincinnati at two o'clock the next morning,
March 31st. We marched to the Market House where we received a good
breakfast and cordial greeting from the people. While there, we learned
that we were assigned to the “Army of the Ohio” and that General
Burnside had been put in command of the “Department of the Ohio.” In
the middle of the day we crossed the river and took train for Paris,
Ky., arriving there in the early morning of April 1st. We went into
camp and remained there three days.
April 3d. We marched to Mt. Sterling, a distance of twenty-two
miles. Here, we were to do frontier duty, assisting in protecting the
people of Kentucky from raids by Confederate cavalry and guerrillas
which had become very common. The march to Mt. Sterling was through the
blue grass region and over a fine turnpike—the first fine road we had
seen since leaving New England. Mt. Sterling is the county town of
Montgomery County and has about 3000 inhabitants. But as we marched
through the town we saw not one of the 3000. The streets were deserted,
the blinds on the windows were closed and the doors barred. We marched
on through the village out on one of the main roads and went into camp.
A strong guard was put around the camp and no one was allowed to go in
town.
During the evening the day after we reached Mt. Sterling, the
cavalry pickets were driven in by a guerrilla band, but they got no
farther than our picket post. There they came to a very sudden stop.
The next day we changed camp, going to a large pasture on high ground
finely drained and with a grove of beautiful trees in it, about a mile
from town.
The reason for the cold reception we received from the people of Mt.
Sterling on our arrival there, was because we were from the black
abolition state of Massachusetts. They preferred, we were told, to
remain unguarded rather than be guarded by Massachusetts men. However,
it was our fortune to see a most remarkable change in the sentiment of
the people toward us in a very short time. Colonel Clark, the commander
of the regiment, was an Amherst professor, a man of intellect and
culture, and a man of an exceptionally fine presence. He was a fine
example of New England culture and must have made a superior impression
on the leading men of the town and county. As soon as we reached there
a strong guard was put on the court house, the jail and every other
public building and piece of public property that required guarding.
Not a soldier was allowed in the village excepting the guards on duty;
no one was allowed to touch anything he did not buy and pay for in the
regular way. Raiding the town by guerrillas was stopped, perfect order
was maintained. And as a result on the 17th we were invited, by the
civil authorities, to move down into the village and camp in the
beautiful grounds in front of the court house; and there we remained
until early in July.
This period of three months was the most delightful period we had
during the war. It was a veritable campaign of peace. Confidence
returned to the people of Mt. Sterling, the court held its regular
sessions, a thing that had not been done since the war broke out. We
were paid off; money was spent freely and Mt. Sterling put on her
holiday attire. After we moved down into the court house grounds there
was no guard kept around the camp, the boys were allowed to go and come
as they pleased so long as they behaved themselves and were present at
roll-call. In a short time they became acquainted with the people of
the village and in the country around. They used to wander off into the
country for miles, call at the farmers' houses, and buy things to eat.
In this way they became acquainted in families, and those acquaintances
in many instances ripened into friendships. A Company E man and I went
off into the country one day some three or four miles. We came to a
medium-sized, pleasantly situated house, with a lot of hens in the
yard. We thought this our opportunity to get some eggs, which was our
errand, and walked up to the door and knocked. We were invited in. As
we were buying our eggs two young ladies appeared. We did not feel like
rushing away then, although the girls were a little slighting in their
answers to questions and in speaking of the Confederates referred to
them as “our men.” In the course of the conversation it was disclosed
that they had relations in the Confederate army. However, the girls
were young and attractive and we did not hurry. There was a piano in
the room and my friend suggested that one of them favor us with a
selection. The younger one, a girl about twenty, sat down and played
“Dixie” and “My Maryland.” As she finished she swung around on her
chair and glanced at each of us in a way that said, what do you think
of that. We complimented her and asked her to play the “Star Spangled
Banner,” and “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” which she did as a favor.
My friend then asked her to play the Marsellaise. She did not recognize
it. Would he hum it?—she might remember it. He hummed it, but it was
evident she did not know it. Finally, she said in a rather saucy way,
“Why don't you play it yourself?” He said he would if it was agreeable.
A plainly dressed private soldier sat down to the piano but from that
moment the instrument seemed inspired. He played the “Marsellaise,”
“The Watch on the Rhine;” then he played a number of selections of
dance music from Strauss and other things. If he stopped they would
say, “Oh don't stop, play something else.” For nearly an hour he played
ahead—those people and I as well were charmed; it was interesting to
see those girls glance at each other and at their mother at times when
the music was especially interesting. When finally he did stop, the
saucy distant airs of the girls were gone, they had become our friends.
We were then less disposed than before to leave, and when we did go it
was with the understanding that we would come again and in future buy
all our hens' eggs from them.
We did no drilling while there. Our principal duties were picketing
the roads leading into the town from the south, east and west, keeping
the brass plates on our accoutrements and our shoes, well polished.
Reports of guerrillas being in adjoining towns reached us from time to
time, but as those men never really wanted to fight, but only to steal,
they never approached very near Mt. Sterling.
In talking with one of the Union men of the village one day about
the people who were in sympathy with the South he said, “Zeek Jones
over there was until lately one of the biggest Rebels in the blue grass
region; he preached it and he sung it until the Rebel cavalry came
along and bought out all his horned cattle, horses, potatoes and
general truck and paid him in Confederate money; then he sung a new
tune—he's been cursing them ever since. He sits up nights to swear
about them. Nothing like that to bring a man around, stranger,” and the
old man haw-hawed right heartily.
About a mile from the village on one of the roads leading from it, a
picket post had pitched its tent near what appeared to be some deserted
buildings. At night there issued from the house the most delightful
music. The unknown singer had a contralto voice, with all the richness
of tone of the most highly trained prima donna. For three successive
evenings there poured forth from the house a concert the like of which
those soldiers had never heard. On the third night one of the boys
could endure it no longer, his curiosity had got the best of him. He
approached the building, climbed over the garden wall, passed around
the house, and, lo, there was an open window. He stole up to it and
peeped in. The room was full of music. For a moment he was lost in the
splendor of the tones, when lo, upon the kitchen table sat a colored
girl singing as if her heart would burst. As she sang she scoured her
dishes. She saw him! He dropped and slunk away. “Go way dar you soger
man, or I'll let fly de frying pan at you head. You mustn't stan dar
peeking at dis yer chile.” The romantic vision was dispelled. The
soldier stole back to his companions, but that entrancing music was
never heard to issue from that house again.
Once we marched to Paris and once to Sharpsburg to attack
guerrillas, but in each instance when we reached the place the
guerrillas had disappeared.
Twice we were ordered away, but each time the people sent to
headquarters extensively signed petitions praying that we might remain
there a little longer. And stay we did until the corps was nearly ready
to march into Tennessee, and the capture of the hearts of two Kentucky
belles of the blue grass region, by men of the 21st were among the
results of our campaign in Kentucky.
July 6. With sincere regret we said goodbye to our many friends at
Mt. Sterling and marched to Lexington. The farmers of the vicinity
showed the sincerity of their regard for us by turning out with their
teams and carrying our knapsacks the whole thirty-three miles. It was a
sweltering hot day, and in our untrained condition it was all we could
stand. As we reached Lexington we found the streets filled with farmers
and their stock, they having come to town to escape from a guerrilla
band that was reported to be in the vicinity. But we were there in time
and the guerrillas did not attempt to enter the town. We went into camp
in a large field near Fort Clay. The 16th we changed camp, going to a
beautiful grove near the Lexington cemetery. Here we remained until we
started for Tennessee.