Diary of a Young Officer–Josiah Marshall Favill (57th New York Infantry)

[30th]

Early on the 30th we marched up close to the fort, stacked arms, and put up our tents, it being understood we were to form an additional garrison for the fort. At two o’clock, however, we were ordered to make a forced march to Centreville, leaving our tents behind us, and so started instantly, and had not gone many miles when the familiar sound of cannonading greeted our ears, increasing as we proceeded. We stepped out willingly and rapidly throughout the day, reaching Fairfax court house at midnight; here we halted for a rest of two hours, and then proceeded over a road blockaded with private carriages, ambulances, teams, and troops to Centreville, where we formed in brigade masses on the heights and rested on our arms for further orders.

August 29th. Early this morning received orders to march to the old Bull Run battlefield, to the assistance of General Pope, who, report says, is getting much the worst of the fighting. Bull Run seems a fatal stream for us. Our entire division fell in, taking the road to Alexandria for a while, then turning off to the left, passed in front of Washington, and halted on the glacis of Fort Corcoran, bivouacking there for the night.

[August 28]

Arriving at Alexandria early in the morning, we immediately disembarked and marched directly for Camp California, our first winter quarters. When the men came in sight of the old spot, they fairly yelled with delight, throwing their caps in the air, and hurrahing till half their throats were sore. The Fifty-second German regiment expressed their feeling by singing magnificently, “Home Again.” Nearly every man in this regiment is a singer, and they have organized a system of singing on the march, when going through towns, on any notable occasion, which is most impressive. Every regiment bivouacked on its original ground, and most of us began to arrange and plan for a new camp, expecting a moderate stay, but were doomed to disappointment. The trains were not yet up, and as we have no camp equipage, are obliged to bivouac in the open air. What an extraordinary coincidence, that just five months after the opening of hostilities in the spring we should be back on the identical ground we started from, but not all of us are here; just about one-half of those who started to run the gauntlet of shot and shell, disease and capture, have succumbed to the one or the other, and their bones in many cases are whitening many a lonely spot in the pine forests of this unlucky state. Those of us surviving are a hardy, well disciplined, experienced body of troops that no disaster can appal, no hardship terrify; men for whom the soldiers of Lee’s army have a most wholesome respect. The campaign we have just finished has, of course, been a lamentable failure, but, as I have frequently observed, the general commanding, and not the men, is to blame. I remember a verse of a song, said to have been sung by the French army, commanded by Villeroi, after the battle of Cremone, in Piedmont, in which Villeroi, the commanding general, was captured; both armies were equally delighted:

“Francais rendon grace a Bellone,

Notre bonheur est sans egal:

Nous avons conserve Cremone

Et perdu notre General!

If we have really lost our general, I expect we shall do much better.

We busied ourselves getting information about the state of affairs, which is greatly mixed. Hooker and Kearney’s division passed through here a week ago by rail to join Pope’s army. Porter, with Morrel’s and Syke’s division, landed at Aquia Creek about the same time and marched to Fredericksburg, so that two corps of our army, at least, are with Pope, who ought to be able to give a good account of himself, thus reinforced.

August 27th. At 5 A. M. disembarked and marched up the hills, which here form a very high and steep bluff, bivouacking near the woods a short distance in rear, stacked arms and lay down; in a few minutes we were ordered back again to the docks, and on board the steamer United States, bound for Alexandria. What a mass of soldiers were arriving and departing from this point! The shore was covered as far as one could see with troops, and incessant streams of men were in motion in different directions. Events of great importance are evidently impending, but we received very little information of what was going on.

[August 26]

Transports were not ready, so we had to wait till Sunday, the 25th, when our regiment embarked on the steamship Spaulding, together with the Fifty-second New York and Second Delaware. We lay off the dock all day Sunday, waiting for the rest of the division to embark. Early on Monday morning, everything being ready, we steamed away for Acquia Creek on the Potomac, where we arrived towards evening and remained on board all night.

August 23d. Up early and made a prompt start; half an hour afterwards it began to rain and soon poured down in torrents. We know a thing or two now about campaigning, and so a rain storm is something to enjoy, at least for mounted men; on the pommels of our saddles we carry, rolled and strapped, a rubber coat, leggings, and cap cover, and on the first appearance of rain get into our leggings, strapping our spurs over them, so that the feet are protected. The coat is made on purpose for mounted men and is full behind to cover the horse and blankets. When one is encased in this rubber armor, he can laugh at the wildest storm, perform his duties comfortably, and go into his quarters perfectly dry. The men are provided with ponchos, a rubber blanket with a slit in the center, through which the head is passed, and thus are fully protected, as also are their arms and accoutrements; marched steadily without interruption, arriving at noon, and encamped by the sea side,

“Where we long have pined to
Linger, where the pebble-covered shore,
Under the quiet faint kisses of the sea,
Trembles, and sparkles as with ecstacy.”

The rain ceased before we arrived, and the sun shone just as brilliantly as ever, and soon dried up the ground. There is no town proper here, nothing but a lot of little wretched shops about the wharves, but the sea view is superb. The water so deep that the largest ships can come close to the shore; all the natural elements, in fact, for a great seaport, but there is no enterprise in this part of the country; everything seems to have long since attained its maximum, and is now content to vegetate and gradually die. Our men bought out the oyster men in short order, and were soon engaged in frying, stewing, and eating raw, every variety of oyster under the sun. A small party from our headquarters took a swim in the deep blue sea during the evening and greatly enjoyed it.

August 22d. Reveille at daybreak. Immediately after breakfast rations were issued, and the column stretched out en route for Newport News; the heat was oppressive, but the troops marched well; traveled over a very interesting country, with immense fields of corn, tall and beautiful, which undulated in the breeze like the waves of the ocean after a storm. The column halted six miles northwest of the town, well tired out, with a good day’s march.

August 21st. Marched bright and early, arriving at Yorktown about noon and put up our tents on the identical spot occupied by us while awaiting shipment to West Point, in the spring; felt quite at home. As soon as the camp was established, all hands were dismissed for a swim, and the waves were quickly whispering lullabys in the ears of the dusty and weary warriors of the first division. Got a lot of gossip here. It seems the army is being transferred as speedily as possible by transports, from both this place and Newport News, to Alexandria and Washington, to head off Lee, who is really in front of the army of Virginia, under Pope somewhere on the Rapidan. The coast here is covered with troops awaiting transportation, and are loading night and day; but it is a big undertaking to transport by ships one hundred thousand men, together with their material, and it takes a good deal of time. General McClellan, it is rumored, has been removed, or is to be, on dit; that the President is disgusted with him; his want of success and very disagreeable relations with the government, constantly throwing all the blame on Washington for his failure, is a little too much, even for our long-suffering and patient President.

After a capital swim, several of us rode through the quaint, slow, old town, which we found just as dirty as ever, the pigs still running at large, feeding on the filth from the tumble down houses; received orders to be ready to march early in the morning for Newport News, as transports were awaiting us; weather magnificent.

August 20th. At 7 A. M. were en route again, and at noon entered the ancient city of Williamsburg, halting just on the outskirts of the town. Colonel Parisen, Doctor McKim, and I rode over the place, which is interesting on account of its antiquity and the college buildings; the bricks used in the buildings were sent over from England; they are very plain and substantial, but not particularly imposing; there are many quaint colonial houses now deserted on streets that are grass grown, and save for a few chattering darkies, utterly deserted. Melancholy, indeed, is the fate of this once flourishing town, now simply a monument of past generations. After an hour’s halt the column marched three miles northeast of the town, passing over the battlefield, where Haincock gained renown. The earthworks are still standing, just as the rebels left them, except that nature, always generous, has spread a graceful mantle of green about them, making them look less suspicious to the soldier’s eye.