1861, July 31.—On the 19th of June, 1861, the 5th Regiment of Wisconsin Vols., being partially organized, went into camp at Madison, Wis. Here it remained for a time, perfecting its organization, drilling and preparing itself for the hardships, the dangers, and the responsibilities to be encountered in the battle-field, against a people warlike and chivalric; a people who are taught to regard physical courage, and recklessness of physical danger, as the noblest qualities of the human race, and a people whose chief pride was to win in fight, whether with individuals or in masses; but a people, who, having entrusted their politics to professed politicians, were misled to believe that, by their brothers of the Northern States of this Union, their rights of property were invaded, and their homes were coveted as a prize for distribution amongst the overgrown population of the North. But to enter into a discussion of the merits of this rebellion, now devastating the most beautiful country known to man, carrying in its march a passover of beggary, of destitution, and of death, is not in accordance with the object of this little book. It is therefore passed over, that the reader may at once be permitted to enter into a detail of the subjects indicated in our preface.
From the time of the commencement of the rebellion, by actual war on Fort Sumter, in April of this year, its settlement by rapid and decisive victories over the rebels was subject of merriment, and looked on as matter of course. We were going to war with a people of not half our numbers, without money, without munitions of war, without navy, without anything in fine of those elements which go to make up the ensemble of a people powerful in war, and we were entering into the strife as a short interlude to the hum-drum vocations of life. “How could a people thus situated hope to compete with the parent Government, rich in every element which makes a great people?” This was the reasoning. In vain were our people told of the character of the Southerners. In vain were they referred to the results of our own rebellion and successful revolutionary war with England. “Oh!” was the reply, “Steamships were not known in those days, and England had to cross the ocean to fight us.” “But Hungary, with its population of only 3,000,000, and without revenue, withstood the whole power of Austria, till the hordes of Russia had to be called in to aid in their subjugation.” “But Austria had become a superannuated and feeble people.” No reasoning would answer. The subjugation of the revolted States was to be a pastime, and could be nothing but a pastime. Thus went on matters, drilling as an amusement, preparatory to the enjoyment of a war, all the results of which, were to be on our side, and obtained without sacrifice or suffering.
On the afternoon of the 21st July, 1861, the electric wires brought us the intelligence from Bull Run that our army was whipped, was routed, was scattered in flight. The heart of the whole North received a shock of sadness and of disappointment. Soldiers in camp began to realize that war meant work and danger, and the Regiment of which I was a member at once received orders to be in readiness to march at the earliest possible moment, to hurry to the aid of its companions in arms. It was in sad plight for the exposures of camp life. ‘Twas in the heat of summer, when fevers and diarrhœa prevail in their worst forms. The measles had broken out in camp, and one-third of the soldiers were suffering from disease of some kind. Nevertheless, active preparation went on, and on the fourth day after the receipt of the sad news the Regiment was on its way to battle.
On the 27th of July we reached Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and went into Camp Curtin. For months this had been a rendezvous for regiment after regiment. The grounds had not been cleaned—the weather was intensely hot, without a leaf to intercept the scorching rays of the sun. The stench of the camp was intolerable, and the sickness of the troops rapidly increased. [1]
On the 29th of July, at night, we received orders to be ready to march at 3 o’clock next morning. Our destination was supposed to be Harper’s Ferry, where we were at once to engage the enemy and to “wind up the war.” So great was the excitement (these things were all new then) that very few laid down for rest during the night. At 3 A. M., of the 30th, all tents were struck and rolled up; mess chests were packed, and everyone ready for the order to move. But sunrise came and found us sitting on our packages. The day wore on, I think the hottest I ever experienced. The troops remained exposed to the broiling sun till 2 o’clock P. M., when we embarked on open platform cars, without seats, and without covering. We ran down through the city, crossed the Susquehannah Bridge, halted, and remained sitting or standing in the sun till evening. The heat of the day, determining the circulation to the skin, had brought out the eruption in many cases of measles, and the poor fellows had to sit and suffer, without a place to lie down, or even a back to lean against. At dusk we found ourselves again under way; ran down to York, Pa., about forty miles. It had now commenced raining, and the cars were run out from the depot, and the suffering men who had been all day washed with their own perspiration, were compelled to sit all night in the rain. Sick or well, ’twas all the same. None were permitted to leave the open cars and go back into the depot. Towards morning the rain stopped; the wind shifted suddenly to the Northwest, and it was cold as November. After the long tedious night of suffering, the morning came, and we ran down to Baltimore, arriving there at 8 o’clock on the morning of July 31st.
We had anticipated trouble here. We disembarked, marched with muskets loaded, and bayonets fixed, from north to south through the entire length of the city, without molestation, except from the scowls of secessionists, and the welcoming hurrahs of friends.[2] At the Camden Street depot we remained in the most uncomfortable condition which it is possible to conceive till sunset, when we were ordered for the twentieth time during the day to “fall in.” We disembarked, marched about two and a half miles, and camped on an elevated ground to the north of, and overlooking a large part of the city and bay. The regiment did not get settled till midnight, and many were so exhausted that they threw themselves on the ground, with their clothes still wet from the previous night’s rain. The medical department, however, succeeded by 10 o’clock in getting up tents to protect the sick, and they were made as comfortable as the circumstances would permit.
Here the regiment remained till the 8th of August, without any occurrences worthy of note, except that sickness continued to increase, and the knowledge I gained as to how little some military commanders cared for the comfort of their sick men. After we had been here five or six days, the Colonel was positively ignorant of the fact that we had a hospital on the ground, though there were three within fifty feet of his quarters, filled to their utmost capacity with the sick and suffering. I was now receiving but little support in my efforts for their health and comfort.
[1] I made it my business to visit every tent twice a day, to see that they were thoroughly cleaned, and that the sides of the tent were raised so as freely to admit a current of air. But here the air without was so foul as to improve the condition inside but little. I will here say, however, that the Surgeon of a Regiment who does not visit every tent in his encampment at least once a day, to satisfy himself by personal inspection that it is thoroughly cleaned and ventilated, and that at least once a week the tents are all struck, and the sun admitted for several hours to the ground on which they stand, is not deserving of the position which he holds.
[2] Only two companies were armed. They were placed one in front, the other in the rear of the Regiment, and so marched through the city.
