Battery L, 1st Artillery Regiment (Light) - George Breck Columns: Chapter 5: “Mud, Mud, Mud” Encamped At Washington Jan. 25, 1862 – Feb. 24, 1862

Reynolds’ Battery, now Battery L of the 1st New York Light Artillery, arrived at the nation’s capital amidst one of the wettest, most miserable winters in memory. Streets and parade grounds were turned into mud, limiting the soldiers in their ability to drill. Mud wasn’t the only enemy: Diseases flourished among the thousands of Union soldiers thrown together in close quarters. Many were farm boys who had not been exposed to even the common childhood diseases, such as measles. In Battery L, as in many other Federal units, the first deaths occurred not on the battlefield but on the sickbed. First, however, Breck made a stop in Albany…

Albany, Jan. 25, 1862
(Appeared Tuesday, Jan. 28, 1862)

Dear Union – I will while away a few leisure moments in furnishing you an item or two, which, I hope, may prove of some interest to your readers.

Albany has been a “hard road to travel” today. When the walks and streets are in a good, dry condition, they are not the easiest thoroughfares to travel by any means, owing to their mountainous character; but when they are burdened with snow, slush and ice, it requires considerable strength of limb, and not a little perseverance, to traverse from place to place, especially going up State street several times a day. It began to snow, hail and rain early this morning, and it hain’t stopped yet, now late in the evening. An uncomfortable day indeed for the performance of guard duty at the Barracks by the soldiers. If the soldier could only be exempt from this duty it would take away the biggest part of his toils. You who are so cozily officed, housed or stored know but little concerning this disagreeable feature of a soldier’s life. Eight hours he must tread his “beat,” when detailed to the guard duty, two hours on and four hours off. How gladly each “relief” will welcome the other such a night as this.

When I left Rochester for Washington, via Albany, I thought it likely I might be detained at the latter place for four or five days. Such is the case. It will be Monday night (Jan. 27) before I can get started again with my squad of men for Washington. The five recruits I took from Rochester were augmented by the addition of two at Palmyra, where I was joined by Lieutenant Anderson, and we were so fortunate as to pick up two more on board the train before reaching Albany. These last two we feel considerably rejoiced over, as they are not to be found every day, though I believe they will become more and more numerous as the work goes bravely on in crushing the monster secession. The two persons referred to are deserters from the rebel army. They had a comrade with them, who had also taken “French leave” of that army which the Confederates so vauntingly declare are fighting from free will and choice for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness against the good old Federal Union. These three young men seemed to think that the cause they were serving in was not the best and most righteous of causes, and that to fight against the Stars and Stripes, which had sheltered them so long, was rank treason. They did not take up arms of their own accord against their country, but were among the many hundreds, if not thousands of unfortunate ones, who have been impressed into the Rebel service. They were drafted last May at Memphis, and attached to the 1st Tennessee infantry regiment. Just previous to the battle of Belmont they took a notion to desert, but were arrested and confined in a guard house or jail at Columbus (Kentucky). There they lay for a month, when they were tried and sentenced to be shot. Last week Friday was the day appointed for their execution, but they had no idea of being put to death by Rebel hands. By the aid of a friend they obtained an iron file, and with that little weapon they freed themselves from the irons with which they had been manacled, and cutting a hole in the floor and digging down under the sills – the building resting on sleepers – they succeeded in breaking jail, and under cover of darkness they eluded the vigilance of the pickets and made good their escape to Cairo (Illinois), where, once within the Union lines, they were safe. Mr. Wilson, of the Chicago Journal, who was at Cairo, became interested in them, and got them passed North. Two of them thought of immediately enlisting in the Federal army, but they were advised to enlist in some of the Eastern States, as their chances of being captured again and recognized – in which case they would, no doubt, be immediately shot – would be much less. We made their acquaintance in the cars, and they expressing a strong desire and determination to have a thorough and satisfactory settlement with their rebel friends, we suggested their enlisting in Capt. Reynolds’ battery. They made up their minds to do so, and they are now enrolled in the Union cause, are fully equipped and ready and eager to strike a balance sheet with the so-called Southern Confederacy.

One of these young men is a very intelligent fellow. He was formerly a printer, and at the time of his impressment into the rebel service was engaged in business for himself at Memphis. He says that the Confederate force at Columbus is, or was when he left, about 40,000 strong. The place was well fortified, and the fortifications about the city were furnished with cannon brought from Fort Sumter. All the fortifications he saw were in good condition, and the Southern army seems to be well supplied with effective arms. But as to clothes, food, money, etc., there is a terrible dearth. The soldiers are half-clothed, half-fed, and considerably less than half-paid. This young man received for seven or eight months’ services the enormous sum of fifteen dollars, and was paid in South Carolina scrip. We must recollect, however, that the Southern army are not serving for pay. That’s no object with them. They are free from all mercenary taint down in Dixie. The Secessionists would have us believe that they have no other thought save the protection of their homes and their firesides. We Yankees, however, have no other inducement in the world in going to war with them than the love of money. Gain is our object. The Constitution and the Union are minor considerations with us. Well, let us wait a few days longer and see how their twelve month’s troops act, and what they say. Their love and desire for independence, for Southern independence, is surely on the decline. The visions of glory, plenty and freedom, which the rebel leaders filled the minds of the Southern people with if they would only break loose from the “mud-sills” and “greasy mechanics” of the North are growing more dim and “beautifully less” every day, and the people at the South are beginning to see visions of a darker and more dismal hue. God grant that the scales of delusion may be speedily withdrawn from their eyes and that they may see secession in all its evilness and hideousness.

But I am not giving items of interest as promised.

You are doubtless aware that the system of recruiting as now carried on in the State is on a basis similar to that of the Regular Army, and is conducted very much in the same manner. Men are not enlisted now for special companies or regiments, but when enlisted may be assigned to any company or regiment which may need them most.

Major J. T. Sprague of the Regular Army has the superintendency of the volunteer recruiting service throughout the State. (1) His office is located here on Pearl street. All recruiting officers have to report to him. As men are enlisted they are sent here to rendezvous and for instructions. But very few have enlisted under these new orders, which took effect the 1st of January, and I venture to say that unless the orders are changed recruits will be few and far between. Perhaps we have enough, however. One hundred and fifty thousand more than called for, at any rate. But this large army, notwithstanding its comparative quietness, has had the unquestionable effect of intimidating the South and thus weakening its strength and purposes. Numbers sometimes accomplish the same thing that an actual display of force does.

There are at the Barracks here some 2,000 troops, consisting of three or four partially filled regiments and some unattached companies. The consolidation of skeleton companies or regiments has been carried on quite lively here of late, and will continue to be until all the companies or regiments are organized to the maximum standard and are placed in the field.

Gen. Rathbone is commandant of these troops here, and of all sent to Albany that have been recruited under the old orders. I heard him make the remark that it was not at all improbable that imperative orders would soon come from the War Department authorizing the mustering out of all officers of incomplete companies and regiments wherever quartered at different depots in the State, and the transfer of such companies and regiments to companies, batteries or regiments already in the field that are not filled up to the maximum standard required by law.

I had occasion to speak of Gen. Rathbone in a previous letter as a man of no ordinary ability, but possessed of uncommon talent, of great business tact and energy, of a wonderful quickness of thought and comprehensiveness of mind, and an apprehension of one’s wants and situation which is peculiarly refreshing to a person who has business to transact with him. His business qualifications have been evinced from the fact of his taking a large Iron Foundry establishment, which, previous to his assuming the management of, was a losing concern, and building up a trade in the stove line that is second to none in the country. The name of Rathbone may be seen in thousands of houses. My further acquaintance with Gen. R. has only heightened my respect and admiration for him. Firm and decided in character, ever anxious and ready to please and accommodate, and do all he can for any person who asks and needs his aid and influence, and is meriting assistance. He is a live man in every sense of the word.

His aide-de-camp, Capt. Chas. E. Smith, I would also mention in terms of praise, always pleasant, obliging and effable, and so too are Quartermaster Perkins and the Adjutant of the Post, Capt. Bradley.

But I am writing too long a letter, and so without another word until after my arrival in Washington, I remain, Yours truly, G.B.

Camp Barry, Washington, D.C.
Feb. 2d, 1862
(Appeared Friday, Feb. 7, 1862)

Dear Union: -- Four days this evening since my arrival in Washington, but not until now have I had an opportunity to write you a letter here in my new quarters. Since arriving here, I have had my hands full of business, and it is only a precursor, from appearances, of what is to come. Camp life does not abound with a large surplus of leisure moments, when it is properly made preparatory to scenes and duties which are fraught with some of life’s greatest concerns and interests. Getting ready to fight and kill, and in killing, perhaps be killed, is no trivial, playful, holiday performance, but a work, whose greatness and solemnity ought to be deeply felt by those who have undertaken it, and yet in reality, have few of the many thousands in its prosecution appreciated the full nature of it!

I will not reiterate the scenes and incidents which attend a squad, a company, or a regiment of soldiers that leave the Albany depot as volunteers for the seat of war. They are very similar, and those witnessed and experienced by Capt. Reynolds’ company, when they traveled from Albany to Washington on the 21st of November last, have been so faithfully described in your columns by correspondents who were with the company at that time, that about all I need to say, relative to my own observations and experiences along the same route, in charge with Lieut. Anderson of a squad of recruits to join Capt. R.’s battery, is that they were of a like character.

Leaving Albany Tuesday morning (Jan. 28), via Hudson River RR., we arrived in New York that noon, and that afternoon we took the cars for Philadelphia. We reached there about 8 p.m., proceeded to the Union Volunteer Refreshment Saloon, where we were supplied with an excellent supper, remained at the same place all night, were again generously treated with coffee and refreshments in the morning, (2) and at 8 o’clock started for Baltimore, arriving there at noon, where we were invited to partake of a dinner at the Soldiers’ Retreat located in that city. This institution was established and is now maintained at the expense of the government. So many thousands of troops pass through Baltimore that to feed them all by the voluntary contribution of her citizens, would be asking too much of the loyal people of that city. Not near so many pass through the “Quaker City,” and then Philadelphia is all loyal.

It was Wednesday night (Jan. 29) when we arrived in Washington, and we immediately took up our line of march for Camp Barry. What a time, what a time we had getting to that Camp! Mud, mud, mud, ankle deep, knee deep – I was going to say neck deep, and I am inclined to believe it was, in some places. We each of us had a veritable illustration of the “Slough of Despond.” The first half mile was attended with considerable merriment, but as deep followed deep, and wave succeeded wave, matters began to assume a serious aspect. To sink in such unfathomable depths, to drown in that inglorious style, we could not reconcile ourselves to the idea. We never left the sweets and comforts of home for any such purpose. No, that was no way to die for our country. It would be going out into oblivion at too cheap and dirty a rate. We would struggle on for the good of Capt. Reynolds’ Company. And so we did, and so we reached it, but in what a plight!

No wonder one of the oldest residents in this city remarked a day or two ago, that he had never known such a season or winter as this in Washington. I am sure that for mud he never did. But this will not last forever. While it does last, however, I venture to say there will be no advance of the grand army “On to Richmond.” I have been told the mud is worse on the other side of the Potomac than on this. Infantry may be pushed ahead through it, but not artillery with its heavy cannon and wagons. The wheels would go out of sight. Of course, to drill with the roads and fields in this awful condition, is next to impossible, and yet with all the rain and mud, slush and snow, companies and regiments manage to go through drilling after a fashion.

What can I tell you about the camp where Capt. Reynolds’ Battery is located, that has not already been communicated in the published correspondence of officers and men? It is almost within a stone’s throw of the Capitol, almost directly east of that building, and the grounds, I judge, must be very well adapted for drilling manoeuvres when dry. A sort of thoroughfare runs through our quarters, separating the officer’s tents from those of the men. We occupy some sixteen tents in all. The Company’s tents and houses are placed upon flanks in lines parallel to each other, the horses of each half battery being picketed together between the tents. Rows of evergreen trees have been placed along the picket ropes, which afford some shelter to the poor horses, but it is quite pitiful to see them, such weather as this, unprotected by any shed or so much as the half of a blanket. There they stand day and night, storm or shine, warm or cold when not in use, without any-thing over them, and it is no wonder that many of them catch cold, sicken and die. It would certainly be economy for government in the end to have erected cheap sheds for its horses. Our battery numbers 113 good horses; indeed, with scarcely an exception, they are all of the best description. They were selected with great care. Some of them would grace the handsomest equipage you have in Rochester. One hundred and twenty-five dollars is the price paid for each. Our pieces have not been received yet, though daily expected. We have two to practice with. (3)

On arriving here I found the company all well, with the exception of two or three, who are confined to the hospital. There must necessarily be coughs and colds among some of the men with such bad weather as we have. It is surprising that there is no more sickness or complaining. The health of the company, however, generally is excellent.

I miss two faces that I was wont to see when I was with the company previous to its departure from Albany. Jerome Sprague and Joseph Castleman are no longer with us to respond to their names at roll-call. Both have gone to their long rest. We feel and mourn their loss. In it we recognize the absence of generous natures and faithful services. Jerome Sprague I knew quite well, and a true, honest, faithful man and soldier he was, too. Peace to the ashes of our departed comrades. (4)

Feb. 3. – I did not have time to finish my letter last night. I will add a few more lines and then close.

To-day it has been snowing and blowing, and now, as I write, there is falling a mixture of rain and hail. Of course, this last meteorological edition will not improve the state of the roads any. The great advance will surely be delayed one day longer.

The company wish to acknowledge the receipt of thirty pairs of mittens, by the hands of Mr. McMannis, from Mrs. Edward Wamsley, of your city. They are a very acceptable gift and heartily appreciated just at the present cold, snowy, unfavorable season.

I was the bearer of another gift to the company, in the form of a very interesting and valuable library consisting of 25 volumes. It was the present of Mrs. E. A. Loder, the wife of one of our 1st Lieutenants. Each volume has written in it Capt. Reynolds’ Artillery Battery, with the name of its kind donor, and the leisure moments of the boys will be spent with interest and profit in reading these books. The company return their thanks for this gift, and assure Mrs. L. that in the diligent use of their physical powers for their country’s good and welfare they will try and not forget the mental entertainment and instruction furnished by her books.

Your correspondent was also the bearer of several parcels and packages to different members of the company from friends and relatives at home, and as they were delivered to their owners happy hearts were reflected from smiling faces. A soldier’s welcome to gifts from home is among the heartiest and most joyous of welcomes. He sets a high appreciation on all such remembrances of kindness and affection.

Since I have been in camp we have been favored with calls and brief visits from several of our friends and acquaintances. Major (William) Benjamin, of Crooks’ (8th New York) Cavalry, called on Friday last; Mr. (Francis S.) Rew, of the Express, has been to see us twice; Capt. (Clark S.) Benjamin, of the 13th (New York) Regiment, called yesterday with Mr. Sperry, of Henrietta. I am expecting to see Lieut. (George A.) Forsyth, of the 8th Illinois Cavalry Regiment – stationed at Alexandria – to-morrow. (5) He writes that he had just come in from the outposts of Gen. Heintzleman’s division, which proved a very successful event. They had advanced the pickets five miles.

It is reported that we are soon to be removed and attached to General (Edwin Vose) Sumner’s Division. I presume we shall not remain here long after the weather begins to improve and the roads begin to dry. Probably Colonel Bailey will have the immediate command of four batteries, now already attached to his regiment, or in other words he will be chief of the artillery, in whatever division he may be placed. He is a favorite officer with the line officers in his regiment, and is well versed in military knowledge and tactics. Capt. Reynolds, in the drill and discipline of his company, has won the respect, confidence and esteem of all his men. They are prompt and cheerful in the performance of camp and military duties, though some of these duties are not the most agreeable to perform, and all declare they will follow and stand by their Captain wherever he may lead them.

I will close by furnishing you a list of the names of the non-commissioned officers. In consequence of our battery being increased to a six-gun battery, there are six more non-commissioned officers created. First Corporal (William) Hays has been promoted to a Sergeantcy – a promotion meritorious as it is excellent.

The following are the non-commissioned officers of Capt. Reynolds’ Rochester Artillery Battery:

Orderly Sergeant, W. H. Bower; Quartermaster do, A. A. Ganyard; 1st Sergeant, Chas. De Mott; 2d do, B. W. Wilber; 3d do, Thomas Steenstra; 4th do, W. S. Chase; 5th do, W. B. Hays; 6th do, W. H. Shelton. 1st Corporal, E. C. Ganyard; 2d do, James Spoor; 3d do, J.P. Conn; 4th do, W. J. Chapman; 5th do, J.H. Arnolds; 6th do, William Connor; 7th do, Melville Buell; 8th do, Amos Gibbs; 9th do, Peter Proseus; 10th do, A. H. Holcombe; 11th do, Charles (R)ooney; 12th do, George Schaffner. Buglers, Spencer Birdsell, R. M. Smith.

I forgot to mention that Captain Cothran’s Artillery Company – the Lockport Battery – which has been encamped next to us, was ordered Saturday to join General (Nathaniel P.) Banks’ command. Yesterday by twelve o’clock their tents had all been struck and they were on their line of march to Frederick. Yours truly, G.B.

Camp Barry, Washington, D.C.
February 13, 1862
(Appeared Tuesday, Feb. 18, 1862)

Dear Union: -- A beautiful day this has been, a real summer’s day here in the vicinity of the Potomac. Beautiful overhead, but not quite so beautiful under foot, in consequence of the mud, that element of complaint and discomfort which so many pens have mentioned, but failed aptly to describe; an element which has proved more formidable to the Union cause than the forces of the rebel army. I am glad to say, however, that to-day’s bright sun and June-like air have accomplished wonders in removing this troublesome element from our midst. Three more days of a similar description would so dry up the roads that all obstacles to military movements accruing from muddy roads of unfathomable and ubiquitous depth, would be removed. There being but little frost in the ground, fair weather dispels the mud very quickly. A few days since snow covered the ground and surrounding hills, but to-day not a vestige of it could be seen anywhere. Our camp has presented a lively and pleasant appearance. Instead of being obliged to remain housed up in our tents and gathered around stoves, the tents have been thrown wide open, and life out-doors has been eagerly sought and enjoyed. It is surprising the change in camp life produced by a favorable change in the weather. That spirit of torpor and sluggishness which will inevitably steal over and take possession of the soldier, if a gloomy, rainy, stormy sky and a wet, muddy earth keep him inactive, is exchanged for a cheerful, wide-awake and elastic spirit, when the elements of sky and earth are his propitious friends. But inactivity in our camp, be the weather ever so unfavorable, is something that the character of an artillery battery will not very well admit of. A hundred or more horses must be taken care of, whether the sun shines or not, and I truly think that a six gun battery of artillery is equal in importance and responsibility to a full regiment of infantry. It covers as much ground, when encamped, and is, to employ language in common parlance, an institution by itself.

We not only have our horses now, but our six pieces, with caissons, forge and battery wagons. They were not received perhaps quite as soon as wished, but now that we have them, all delay in the matter has been forgotten and all hands are ready to find out their virtues for crushing treason and rebellion. That they will help do this, and do it in a telling and effective manner, if properly employed, is without a doubt, as everybody is convinced who observes these weapons of warfare. They are new regulation army guns, six-pounders, of wrought iron, and rifled bore. I cannot state their exact range, but they are long enough to destroy and kill at a distance of three miles. (6) The rebels must be good ballcatchers, not to be hurt when such a battery of six guns is playing into their ranks. I do not wish to promise too great things for Reynolds’ battery of artillery, or to make any boasts of what they will do when the time comes for action. I will only remark that all mean to try and do their duty. To this end, the new pieces are thoroughly practised with every day, when the weather permits, and now, if we can only have two or three weeks constant drill, we shall be satisfied to take the field whenever summoned.

The news of the recent great Federal victories has, of course, stirred up our military enthusiasm to a very high pitch. There was a jubilee in our camp when the news came of the capture of Fort Henry, but the taking of Roanoke Island, attended with such glorious results, caused the enthusiastic spirit in our midst to go up almost out of sight. And still later news informs us that Fort Donelson is taken and five thousand rebels in the bargain. The effect of this intelligence to those who have been weeks and weeks encamped, waiting for “something to turn up,” which would ensure to them a movement, which would break the stillness and monotony of camp life, is of the happiest description.

The important and glorious news has added to the brightness and pleasantness of the day – important and glorious, not because blood has been spilt and men of our own race and kindred have been slain, but because of the defeat of wrong and the probable avertment of anarchy; because of the triumph of right, of law, of order, the maintenance of what is unspeakably dear and precious to every true American heart. It is not out of place, I think, to say that the late news has created in us a strong desire to have a “brush” with the enemy, speedily as possible; at any rate, when our youthful Commander-in- Chief orders us to battle we shall be on hand to respond.

While I have been writing this, heavy firing has been going on down the Potomac. The boom of the cannon has sounded like the distant roar of thunder. One cannot but involuntarily exclaim, How grand it sounds! Last night there was heavy cannonading to be heard, but the cause of it I cannot say.

The fair weather of to-day brought out several batteries and companies of artillery that have been drilling and reviewing not far from our quarters on the finest drill ground I ever saw.

Four or five artillery companies and one or two regiments of cavalry near our vicinity have crossed the Potomac within a day or two. Everything indicates, so far as our observation extends, a forward and rapid movement of troops on this side of the Potomac, and this afternoon I was informed that troops on the other side of the river had been ordered to make ready for an advance. News of this character, however, and indeed all news pertaining to the rumored, probable or real movements of the army, you learn as soon, if not sooner and more definitely than we do who are right here, whenever it emanates.

Let me write two or three items relating directly to our company and then your verbose correspondent will close:

Perhaps the friends of Capt. Reynolds’ battery are aware that we are the owners – not that exactly, for ownership implies a kind of sale and purchase – well the possessors, -- how would it do to say the guardians? – of two living, bona fide contrabands. Thanks to Gen. Butler for the name. (7) It has a signification such as it never had before. One can use it in its present new application without a particle of squeamishness, though he be a red hot abolitionist. The word slave calls up everything that is evil and frightful, and horrible and sickening, for it has been harped upon till it has conjured up in our minds or hearts an almost perfect disgust for the word. Now “contraband” is such a happy substitute – for it disposes, in and of itself, of a most vexed question or subject, it reads and sounds so smoothly, that you can’t help feeling pleasant when thinking of making use of it. But all this is not to the point. We have two contrabands, I said. They strayed into our quarters about two months ago. John and William are their names. They escaped from a Maryland slave trader, who lives not far from Baltimore. Their treatment was too severe to suit them, and matters looking as if their fortunes were to grow worse if they remained where they were, they determined to turn fugitive, and so they did, bringing up within the precincts of our camp. The boys immediately “adopted” them for the term of profitableness and good behaviour, but some of them seemed to get sick of their bargain very shortly after adoption. Idle, lazy, not apt to learn, were the charges brought against them, but without just cause, I think.

John was turned over to our Captain and two First Lieutenants, for whom he makes a very faithful servant, and William, the younger – a boy about 14 years old – was committed for safe keeping into the hands of the two junior lieutenants on their arrival in camp. It is of William that I wish to speak particularly. He is a complete specimen of originality – a “gemmen ob color,” as he says, and I must add, of a color that knows no shade of white. “Inkbottle” and “stove pipe” are names that have been bestowed upon them by the company. The latter is quite expressive, for it describes his figure very correctly. Stiff, straight, and about as large around as a common size stove-pipe, he is put together like a stick of wood. The fund of amusement he has afforded us by his quaint sayings and doings has contributed not a little to the merriment and diversion of camp life. He is not “going to leab us,” he declares, “neber is,” unless we send him off. He has no affection for his “ole massa.” His happiness seems to be complete here. That he is an uncommon contraband is, I think, shown from the fact that the other evening, while some of us were speaking of the exhausted state of the Federal Treasury, “stove-pipe,” who was sitting by, spoke up and said, “Well, den, de govermy must eder root hog or die.” Certainly, this was a very plain way of speaking, a homely, unpleasant truth about the probable issue our government will result in if our wise M.C.’s (“Members of Congress”) banter away any more time devising plans and schemes to raise money, but never doing anything. We purpose taking “stove-pipe” home with us when we return from the wars.

There is not every person at the present day who can boast of having an occupation. Many in your city are out of employment and were they asked what business they followed they could only answer, “No business doing – nothing.” Not so with those who have enlisted to be soldiers, if the following characteristic reply of a member of our company be indicative of one’s occupation. When requested to tell his occupation, in order to record his name, age, height, etc. in the company’s descriptive list book, he replied, “My occupation. An instrument in the hands of God for crushing rebellion.” An excellent reply, surely. And here let me remark that Capt. Reynolds would like to have his battery augmented by the addition of a few more men. We have the minimum number of a six gun battery, but it is desired to bring it up to the maximum standard. Col. Bailey has recruiting officers in Syracuse for his regiment, and any one desirous of enlisting in Capt. Reynolds’ company can do so by reporting himself at Syracuse, where the expense of going there will be remunerated and he will be sent right on to join the battery. We hope to see half a dozen good men before the expiration of next week.

It is all uncertain when we shall be ordered away from here. If straws denote which way the current runs, perhaps the following remark to our Quartermaster means something. He was told yesterday, on going to the arsenal for ammunition for our cannon, that in about a week’s time he would doubtless be obliged to come for more and in greater quantities. Well, whenever the command to go is given, we shall be ready to start. Yours truly, G. B.

Camp Barry, Washington, D.C.
February 18, 1862
(Appeared Tuesday, Feb. 25, 1862)

Dear Union: -- I was in hopes I could commence and end the next letter I addressed you without again alluding to the element of mud, which has been more or less the burthen of my correspondence with yourself since my arrival here at Camp Barry. But necessity seems to compel me to refer to the obnoxious, vexacious, troublesome element once more, even at the expense of time, patience and interest. Appearances all indicated, when I last wrote you, a “long spell” of pleasant weather. The sun had shone brightly and mildly for two or three successive days, the snow had all disappeared, the earth was becoming dry, the roads were beginning to be very passable – and best of all, the mud, which had intruded and obtruded itself upon everybody; which had been ankle deep, and knee deep, and unfathomably deep; which had blockaded paths, streets, roads and thoroughfares of all kinds; which had soiled and ruined good clothes, damaged an immense amount of shoe and boot leather, and accomplished incalculable personal mischief and discomfiture; which had interfered with military plans and movements, from the smallest to the most extensive scale – from the simplest drill taught a raw recruit to the great “advance” from the Potomac; -- best of all, I repeat, this anathematized element of mud was fast going, going, and bid likely to be all gone ere another week had elapsed, under the genial influences of beautiful Spring weather. The day after the date of my letter, however, and what a change! Snow, hail, rain – well, to sum the matter up in a few words, the mud, at present time writing, is as bad as ever, and as a consequence our camp is in a comparative state of idleness. To drill with the men, horses or pieces is impossible, and therefore we are necessarily thrown back in the way of fitting ourselves properly for the field, so many days.

But let us change the subject. We don’t wish to quarrel about the weather. We only mention it, because everybody else does hereabouts, and then not to mention it in a letter would of course be as great a piece of negligence as to omit its introduction at a New Year’s call.

Yesterday was the 17th of February, 1862, and it is a day that will be remembered too, as long as the American Republic exists, it was the day that sealed the fate of the Southern Confederacy, that decided the authority of the Federal Government, and vindicated the righteousness and justness of the Union cause. Treason and rebellion are on its last throes, and love (law?) and order are triumphant. No wonder the voice of jubilee was heard throughout the whole North on the receipt of the glorious news of the capture of Fort Donelson, for it is an event that is surely to be succeeded by a complete restoration of the integrity of the Union and the reestablishment of the American Government. (8) I am certain that Rochester was not a whit behind her sister cities in demonstration of joy, when she received the intelligence of the great victory of the day. But nowhere was the excitement more intense and the voice of jubilee more generally heard than in the thousands of camps which line the Potomac. As the news of the victory was communicated to each company or regiment the enthusiasm of the men went almost wild. Huzzah followed huzzah, caps went up, guns were fired, cannon roared, and there was no restraint to the jubilant expressions of the soldiers.

Capt. Reynolds’ battery of six 6-pounders spoke out with an emphasis of delight and enthusiasm that told far and near. Every piece, when fired, proclaimed in loudest tones the greatness and worth of the victory achieved. A salute of some thirty guns was fired and our camp presented a scene of indescribable excitement and joy. All felt a desire to be actual participants in victories yet to be won, and I assure you, such business as the taking of Roanoke Island and Fort Donelson inspire a soldiers heart with renewed courage and determination to do his duty, and if they excite a wish in his breast to rush on the battle field and help fight with his fellow soldiers, it is not to be wondered at. It is but natural. (9)

It is pretty positive that within ten days, or two weeks at the furthest, we shall be ordered off. Perhaps we shall be in the grand army, which present appearances indicate, is to be led directly by Gen. McClellan in person. Perhaps our destination is to be Richmond. Your correspondent would like very much to address you a letter from that city, written under the Stars and Stripes.

Arrangements are being made here for a grand celebration on the 22d inst., in view of the recent success of the national arms. No doubt there will be a general review of regiments, and demonstrations of rejoicing and thanksgiving over the late victories will be on a magnitude of the greatest order. How eminently fitting the day, commemorative as it is, of the birthday of the illustrious Father of the Republic.

I have no particular items of interest to relate you, respecting matters in our own camp or vicinity. The health of the company is very good, and so far as I can ascertain, it is the same in all the companies about us.

Night before last, a regular of the 1st Artillery was shot in a house, a short distance from us. He got into a drunken scrape which cost him his life.

Every means is used to prevent the sale of liquor about the different camps. Guard patrols are detailed from the different regiments to visit stores and saloons, or places where liquor is thought to be kept, and, if any is found, it is immediately poured into the street. There have been two or three spirituous institutions broken up by our regiment. Liquor is the great bane of the soldier. Keep that away from him and he is all right.

Now and then we have a Regimental Court Martial. One occurred the other day at which two prisoners were tried. One of them had the novel sentence passed on him, to wear a barrel resting on his shoulders, his head protruding through the top, and to walk, hooped in this manner, to and fro through the camp, for four consecutive days, four hours each day. A punishment of this character for a violation of military orders or discipline, tells quite severely on a sensitive nature. If the person has any sense of mortification, it must be fully awakened.

I hope when I write again, I shall have something of more interest and importance to communicate. Yours truly, G.B.

Camp Barry, Washington, D.C.
February 24, 1862
(Appeared Thursday, Feb. 27, 1862)

Dear Union – Our camp is all excitement. The boys are hurrahing and giving expression to their joyous and enthusiastic feeling in the most rapturous manner. We are ordered off from our present quarters. The orders have just been announced to the company, and on hearing them three roaring cheers and a “tiger” were given for them, and three more and another “tiger” were given the barracks and stables, which, the company was told, await them at their new destination. We are bound for Baltimore. Have received orders to report ourselves to Gen. Dix at Federal Hill, which is very near and overlooks the city of Baltimore, so I have been informed. A Boston artillery battery has been stationed on this hill for several months to help keep the unruly and rebellious portion of Baltimore in a quiet and peaceable state, but having orders to proceed to Fortress Monroe, we have been instructed to take the place of a Boston company. It is regarded as a responsible and important position, and Gen. Barry, when giving instructions to our Captain, remarked that it was a spot much frequented by visitors.

As I now write, the boys are busily getting ready to strike their tents, and to-morrow morning we expect to be on the line of march. These orders are of course wholly unexpected, and we were quite surprised to be told that we were going to Baltimore. This is going north instead of going south, or in the direction of Richmond, as we confidently anticipated. Military movements are attended with more uncertainty and with less knowledge to those who are under orders than those of almost any other kind. We thought it a sure thing crossing the Potomac within ten days, and Col. Bailey had requested that we might be attached to his immediate command. He had given us such a good name at headquarters, however, that the chiefs of the War Departments thought best to dispose of us for the present, where, if we have no fighting to do, we may at least keep up a vigorous watching over suspicious friends. Where our next move will be I cannot divine. Perhaps we shall follow in the tracks of the artillery battery we are about to relieve. Perhaps we shall be ordered to join the new expedition, which, it is understood, is being filled up at Philadelphia. Perhaps – well there is no use of surmising where we shall go next. Our Rochester friends, it may be, will be rejoiced to hear that we are nearing towards home, for at Baltimore we shall be forty miles nearer that pleasant spot than we now are. But we wish to assure them that we have no intention of returning to our homes until the last battle is fought, the last victory won, and the Stars and Stripes are floating all over the country.

Washington’s birthday was celebrated here with demonstrations of great joy and enthusiasm. They were not so great, however, as they would have been had death not entered the household of our chief magistrate, and snatched a loved and cherished child. (10) This affliction cast a dark mantle of grief and sorrow over the hearts not only of the patriot ruler and his family, but over the hearts of all this community. In consideration of this mournful event, the general illumination of all the private and public buildings that was to take place in the evening, was suspended. Nevertheless, the day was celebrated with considerable éclat. At sunrise there was a general ringing of bells, and the fire of musketry and heavy roar of cannon echoed and re-echoed from every direction. The day was damp and disagreeable, accompanied with a slight sprinkle of rain, but it didn’t deter thousands of people from crowding their way to the Capitol, where the grand features of the occasion were the exercises which took place in Congress, the two bodies assembling in the House of Representatives. The papers have afforded you full accounts of these interesting and important exercises, and so I will not relate them. We tried very hard to effect an entrance into the House, but every available spot was occupied long before we got there, and so we endeavored to console ourself by standing in the passages without. We were fortunate enough to mount a barrel at one of the doors, on which there were three other persons, and for a few minutes we enjoyed a glimpse of the audience, composed as it was, of civilians and soldiers, many of whom were the most distinguished personages in this country – and first and foremost among them was Major-General George B. M’Clellan. The President was absent on account of the death of his son. We caught a good sight of Gen. M’Clellan when coming out of the Capitol; and the crowd, the moment he was singled out to them, gave three hearty cheers for the young Commander-in-Chief. May I be allowed to say, without mentioning names, there is a most striking resemblance between Gen. M’Clellan and a certain brave and youthful citizen of Rochester, now a Lieutenant in an Illinois Cavalry Regiment, stationed at Alexandria. The resemblance was observed and remarked by three of my fellow officers, who are acquainted with the person referred to.

There was to be a presentation of “flags captured from the rebel armies,” in the presence of both branches of Congress and of the guests, but that part of the exercises was dispersed with, and very properly too, we think. They by no means represent a distinct nationality, and it would be honoring the Southern Confederacy too much by depositing their insurgent flags among the other insignia and trophies taken from nations with which we have formally warred as true belligerents. Certainly to cherish such trophies of war, as prized memorials, would contribute no credit or satisfaction to us as a nation.

The flags were displayed in the old Hall of Representatives after the House adjourned. Some of them were very beautiful in quality of material, but the inscriptions on some of them struck us as being sadly ridiculous. Sad, because they showed the delusion and madness which had taken possession of the Southern people, and ridiculous, because they have no resemblance to truth, and denoted a vain-glorious spirit. Before leaving the Capitol, I wish to speak of a new painting or portrait that is now displayed in the Rotunda. It is an equestrian portrait of Gen. Scott, painted for the authorities of the State of Virginia by Mr. E. Troye, a resident once of Kentucky, and a well known artist there, but now residing in this city. (11) A paper mentioning this picture, says that “Gen. Scott sat for it, affording the artist every facility for the accomplishment of his purpose.” The General is represented in sight of Chapultepec, after he had marched triumphantly from Vera Cruz, gaining victories wherever he fought, until he comes to the key of the Capital – the Gibralter of Mexico. The hero is represented in all his noble proportions, mounted on a spirited bay horse, with his chapeau in his hand, waving it just as the Stars and Stripes were hoisted on the battlements of the castle.

The same paper also states that since this glorious picture was finished, Virginia has not only rebelled against the Union, but she has denounced the old veteran in terms as strong as those she once gave vent to in her love for him. Therefore the picture remains uncalled for on the artist’s hands. It is suggested, and we hope the suggestion will be carried out, that Congress should purchase this gem of art and let it have an honored place in one of the panels of the Capitol. It is truly a magnificent work and is worthy of a close inspection by all who visit the Rotunda.

But I must close. I have just been informed that we must be ready to leave to-morrow morning at 7 o’clock. In speaking of the celebration of yesterday, I must not omit to say that our company fired a national salute at noon, and in the afternoon there was a regimental review of all the companies at this camp. Yours truly, G.B.

Transcribed And Donated By Bob MarcotteTranscribed And Donated By Bob Marcotte
​​​​​​​Robert E. Marcotte
Rochester, N.Y.
February 2005