D

CHAPTER VII

WINTER QUARTERS

URING our eleven days in Washington, much of the time had been taken up in review, parades, and the exchanging of arms, and the five days near Alexandria were spent in building camp, picketing, and the expedition to Mount Vernon; so that little attention had been given to drilling before we advanced to Bull Run, and, on returning from Manassas, we had at once gone to work building Forts Ellsworth and Lyon. Not until the regiment moved to Camp Franklin did it have an opportunity to learn and practise the duties pertaining to a soldier's life; there, in the middle of October, five months from its muster into the United States Service, it began, in a systematic manner, the work of perfecting itself in drill and in the technic of its profession.

There are two great and important lessons to be acquired in military life, first, the proper care of oneself, for efficiency depends upon good health; and, second,—the acquirement of proficiency in technical duties, so that in the operations of a regiment each of its units will move as by a single impulse, concentrating and emphasizing the numerical strength of the entire body. In observing the first, we proceeded to make our quarters, which were occupied during the fall and winter, as comfortable as possible with the material at hand. The company tents were raised on logs or frame work, two or three feet from the ground, banked or plastered with clay, a floor was laid and a fire-place built

in each, so that we were made comfortable to a degree little suspected by our friends at home.

The tours of picket duty for a regiment came a little oftener than once a month, and lasted four days. The detail carried one day's cooked rations in haversacks, and one ration was sent out each day thereafter from camp. Evening schools were established, two a week, under the supervision of the colonel, for the instruction of commissioned officers in battalion and brigade drill, in the making of returns and in the Army Regulations; and the same number weekly, under the supervision of a company officer, for the instruction of non-commissioned officers in company and battalion drill and guard duty. Hardee's Tactics and the Army Regulations were the text books. The regiment drilled twice daily, except Sundays, either in company, battalion, or brigade

manœuvres.

The colonel was greatly annoyed when the manœuvres were not properly executed. He accepted, for a time, the usual explanation,-that his commands were not distinctly heard, and, to prevent further trouble in that line, gave orders that his commands should be repeated by commanders of divisions, when moving in column. The colonel was not, in the usual acceptation of that term, a profane man, yet, on some occasions, he did use words indicative of a troubled spirit and deep dissatisfaction which were not easily expressed in Sunday school text. One day, on battalion drill, he discovered some irregularity in the division commanded by Captain Stetson, and called out vigorously, "why in h- Captain Stetson, does not your division dress up?" Captain Stetson repeated to his division the colonel's exact words, and turned in time to report to the colonel, as he rode down the column,-"Sir, I have repeated your command." The colonel looked at him for a moment, and then rode away without speaking. At the evening session

of the school, Colonel Davies said, "It is not intended that any, except strictly military commands, shall be repeated on drill." Captain Stetson spoke up and said, "I have supposed that you wished your commands repeated as you pronounced them; if that is not to be the rule, I may not be able to distinguish the emphasizing phrases from the purely military ones, especially when we are executing difficult manœuvres."

We were not associated with drilled and disciplined soldiers. The twelve regiments of infantry in Franklin's division were, like our own, from civil life, and in Slocum's brigade there were but two officers educated in the science and art of war, and only five or six in the entire division. These officers labored faithfully to instruct their subordinates, and it would be difficult to overestimate the value of the labors of Generals Franklin, Slocum, Newton, Kearny, and Davies; what they did, in fitting the regiments under their command for active service, is best shown in the character of their performance in the field. This division became the nucleus of the Sixth Corps, and the simple mention of "the Sixth Corps of the Army of the Potomac" is enough to recall the high encomiums paid to it by all who saw it in action or who have read its history.

Every man is not endowed by nature with the qualities essential to the making of a good soldier, and it is not in the province of barbers, tailors, drill sergeants or schools to make him one, unless the elements are born in him. Most men can be taught to act fairly well under fire and to go through the ordinary routine of the service, but only a few can come up to the high standard of a good soldier, one who leads his men and keeps the reluctant up to their work.

I quote the description of a good soldier from the History of the Fifth Maine, by the Reverend Geo. W. Bicknell,

D.D.' He was the adjutant of his regiment, which was brigaded with the Sixteenth from September, 1861, to the close of the Sixteenth's term of service, and is remembered as one made of "good stuff."

"A true soldier belongs to a distinct class of the human family. He glories in the possession of a knowledge of what his duty is, and in its faithful performance. He feels proud of his shining musket when he knows that it is sure at five hundred yards. He looks upon his polished equipments with an ill-concealed satisfaction. He steps with a feeling of superiority, sensible that it requires a man of heart, courage, and muscle to make a good soldier. He looks upon dandies and walking tailor shops with the deepest scorn and contempt. He thinks it is beneath him to respect the civilian very much, unless he be too old to be a soldier like himself, yet women he worships and adores. His lady is the world to him. He fights with the memory of her smile ever before him. He dies with her name trembling on his lips. The rich man and the poor man are alike to him. He spends his hard-earned money with the air of a millionaire, and yet he is benevolent and generous to a fault. His motto, a short life and a merry one. But, generally, the life of a soldier is brilliant on paper, reads well in verse, sounds sweetly from the rostrum, reflects glaringly in imagination, has a dashing romance around it; yet the reality savors far differently. "The brave sentinel treading his beat, and at his post dreaming waking dreams in reverie of home and loved ones,' is far more likely to be tearing and swearing because the relief don't come around, than to be indulging in sentimentalities. The soldier, 'boldly bearing the musket rusty with use and black with battle-stained smoke,' will be sure to be in the guard house if said musket is not bright and clean for Sunday morning inspection. That 'blood-stained hero with soiled

' After Adjutant George W. Bicknell was discharged from the service on account of wounds, he entered the Theological School of St. Lawrence University from which he graduated in 1866. In 1898, he received the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity from his alma mater. Northern New York holds him in high esteem and warm fraternal regard.

garments,' will have to have a new suit before the next dress parade; and if he overdraws his allowance will have to pay for it too. The one is poetical, the other actual reality."

I do not recall that any one of the brave men whom I knew in the army, whose courage was unquestioned and who were always ready to obey orders unflinchingly, ever expressed a wish to march on the enemy and engage him in battle, from the mere desire to get into a fight; but I do recall the names of men who were constantly complaining because the army did not move, so that they could give the enemy a good thrashing; yet, when the chance came to meet in battle, the valiant-mouthing warrior did not improve the opportunities. I do not mean to say that the impatient warriors did not fight, but I have believed that circumstances, beyond their control, had more to do with their getting into battle than their spontaneous feelings.

I once knew a Scotch lad, who got into difficulty in attempting to relieve one of his countrymen who was confined in the guard house for intoxication. He first applied to the officer of the day; that failing, he went to the colonel, and, through his intemperate language, was sent to keep his friend company. He had thereafter a strong disinclination to remain in my company, but bided his time for making his feelings known. The opportunity came when he heard an officer say that he wanted to get at the enemy without further delay; this was a few weeks before the regiment entered upon the campaign of 1862. Sergeant Partridge of my company, who had heard this belligerent statement, asked me if I felt that way. I replied that I was willing to wait for the orders of those who knew when to move better than I did. My Scotch boy broke out, "I thought so." When asked what he meant by that he said that he did not wish to tell, but expressed a wish to be transferred to