Friday, April 1st.
We received orders this morning to join the Artillery Brigade of the Second Corps, and so, breaking camp, we marched through devious ways to a point near a little settlement called Stevensburg. As the well filled ranks of the regiment wound along across the plain, through the gullies and over the hills, we were frequently saluted by the old campaigners near whose camps we passed, with “What division is that?” “How are your heavy Infantry?” “What’s the size of your siege guns?” “How are the fortifications?” and other equally pointed and aggravating interrogations, to all of which the men either turned a deaf ear or replied with becoming emphasis.
Rain commenced falling about the time we had completed the first half of the distance and continued uninterruptedly during the rest of the day, rendering progress exceedingly toilsome and slow, and to add to our discomfort, on arriving at our destination and being kept standing and lying in the rain and mud for some time, the Colonel selected the side of a steep hill for our camping ground, in my judgment the very worst locality for such a purpose in all that region. But having long since learned obedience to orders, we occupied the ground to the best advantage, satisfied that at least no water would settle in our company streets. Immediately on locating the metes and bounds of the company camp, I gave the men liberty to put up their tents at once, or seek refuge for the night in the quarters of any acquaintances they might find in regiments lying near us. Many of the men, therefore, accepted the hospitalities of the 126 N. Y. Infantry, which was camped on a hill across the ravine from us, that regiment having been recruited mainly in the western part of the State, where my own company was originally organized, and containing many friends and acquaintances of the boys. The 126th had originally been camped in a grove, but during the winter had cut away the trees for fuel and to stockade their winter quarters, so that at the time we saw them they were surrounded only by a few stumps. Their habitations were, however, comparatively luxurious, being built about six or eight feet square and four or five feet high, of logs nicely laid in mud-mortar, and covered with two shelter tents fastened together. They were provided with fire places of the old outside, New England pattern, with cracker boxes and barrels for chimneys, and with “bunks” of small parallel poles supported by posts driven into the ground and covered with leaves and army blankets, usually occupying about half the interior and doing duty as beds, chairs and tables. I spent the night with Lieut. Lincoln of the 126th, who, being Adjutant of his regiment, had appropriated a wall tent and was most comfortably situated. Here I met Col. Bull of the 126th, formerly of Canandaigua, with whom I had studied law, and several of his officers, and spent a very pleasant evening chatting with them. The Colonel evidently enjoyed the fact that the defenders of Washington had been ordered to the front, and took great delight in reminding me that he had prophesied as much sometime before when we had met at the Capital.
One little incident occurred to-day which put me out of all conceit touching my ability entirely to control the men of my command as to “what they should eat or what they should drink or wherewithal they should be clothed.” Now it has heretofore been my pride and boast that the preeminence of Co. H in drill, discipline and all the military virtues, was owing principally to the fact that whiskey was not allowed in the company, except on very rare state occasions or after unusual fatigue, and never without my knowledge. Fancy my feelings then, as we halted at the foot of the hill waiting for the Colonel to locate our position, when I asked Sergt. Lincoln if he “had anything in his canteen,” meaning thereby to inquire for water, for my own canteen had given out on the road, and he with a prompt “Yes, sir,” handed it to me and I took a swallow that would have done credit to a sluice-way, and discovered too late that I had taken an overdose of the vilest “commissary” known to army contractors. The effect was instantaneous and apparent, and so embarrassed my respiratory and vocal powers, that I failed to find language adequate to convey my astonishment, or thanks, to the Sergeant, who evidently congratulated himself that “no remarks were made” as I handed back the canteen without note or comment. I shall, however, be more explicit in my inquiries hereafter.
