Red-Tape and Pigeon-Hole Generals Part 12

"Well, as I was going on to say, while I was helping guard a pratie patch, an ice-house, corn-crib, smoke-house, and other such things that were near our camp ground, and that belonged to a Rebel Colonel under Johnston;--Johnston himself was staling away with all his army to help fight the battle of Bull Run. Patrick--pace to his sowl--was in that battle and fought like a tiger, barrin' that he would have done better, as his Captain tould me, if he hadn't forgot the b.a.l.l.s in his cartridge-box, and took to his musket like a shelaleh all day long.

Patrick's regiment belonged to a Brigade that was ordered to keep Johnston in check, and there stood Patrick in line, like a true lad as he was, clubbing back the b.u.t.ternuts, striking them right and left--maybe the fellows belonged to this same Rebel Colonel's regiment--until a round shot struck him full in the breast, knocking the heart out of as true an Irishman as iver lived, and killing dead the flower of the McCarthys.

"I didn't know it till we got to Baltimore, and thin whin I riflicted how the poor boy marched up to fight the bluidy Rebels, and how they killed him, my own brother, while I--I, who would have given my right hand to save him,--yis," said Terence, rising, and tears streaming from his eyes, "would have waded through fire and bluid to help the darlin', the pride of his mother,--I was guarding a Rebel Colonel's property, whin the whole of us, if we had fought Johnston, as we ought to have done, might have kept him back and saved our army, and that would have saved me my brother. And thin whin I remimbered how thick the Gineral was with the Rebel gentry, and how fine ladies with the divil in their eyes bowed to him in Charlestown, and spit at and c.o.c.ked up their noses at us soldiers, while their husbands were off, maybe, murthering my brother; and how the Gineral, proud as a payc.o.c.k on his prancing chestnut sorrel, tould us in the meadow that Johnston was too strong for us to attack, but that if he would come out from behind his big guns the Gineral would lay his body on the sod before he'd lave it, whin he intended his body to lie on a soft bed the rest of his life, and how he said and did all this while our men, and my brother among them, were being murthered by this same Johnston that he was sent to hould back,--I couldn't keep down my Irish bluid. I cursed him and all his tribe by all the Saints from St. Peter to St. Patrick, until good ould Father Mahan tould me, whin I confessed, that he was afraid I would swear my own sowl away, and keep Patrick in Purgatory; and the Father tould me that I should lave off cursin' Patterson, for the Americans thimselves would attend to that, and take to fighting the Rebels for revinge; and he said by way of incouragement that at the same time I'd be sarving G.o.d and my adopted country. And here I am, under another safe Commander. Four months and no fight,--nearly up to the ould First, that sarved three months without sight of a Rebel, barrin' he was a prisoner, or in citizen dress, like some we have left behind us."

"Boys, Terence tells the truth about Patterson's movements," said the tall Lieutenant. "The day before we left we were ordered to be ready to move in the morning, with three days' cooked rations. We were told that our Regiment was a.s.signed a place in the advance, and it was semi-officially rumored that a flank attack would be made upon Winchester. At this day the whole affair appears ridiculous, as Johnston had at that very time left Winchester, leaving only a trifling show of force, and he never, at his best, had a force equal to Patterson's. Half of his troops were the raw country militia. But we under-officers were none the wiser. It was rumored that Bill McMullen's Rangers had found charts that informed the General of the extent and strength of the Rebel works and muster-rolls, that showed his force to be over 50,000. That those works had no existence to the extent alleged, and that the muster-rolls were false, are now well known. But that night it was all dead earnest with us. Rations were cooked and the most thorough preparations made for the expected work of the morrow. Sunrise saw the old First in line, ready for the move. Eight o'clock came; no move, Nine--Ten, and yet no move. Arms had been stacked, and the men lounged lazily about the stacks. Eagle eyes scanned the surrounding country to ascertain what other Brigades were doing. At length troops were seen in motion, but the head of the column was turned towards the Ferry. 'What does this mean?' was the inquiry that hastily ran from man to man; and still they marched towards the Ferry. By and by an aide-de-camp directed our Brigade to fall into the column, and we then discovered that the whole army was in line of march for the Ferry, with a formidable rear-guard to protect it from an enemy then triumphing at Bull Run.

"Well, Patterson's inertness, to speak of it tenderly, cost the country much blood, millions of money, and a record of disgrace; but it gave a Regiment of Ma.s.sachusetts Yankees opportunity to whittle up for their home cabinets of curiosities a large pile of walnut timber which had formed John Brown's scaffold, and to make extensive inroads in prying with their bayonets from the walls of the jail in which he had been confined pieces of stone and mortar. Guards were put upon the Court House in which old John heard his doom with the dignity of a Cato, at an early date, or it would have been hewn to pieces. A fine crop of corn in full leaf was growing upon the field of execution, and for a s.p.a.ce of ten feet from the road-side the leaves had been culled for careful preservation in knapsacks. The boys had the spirit. Their Commander lacked capacity or will to give it effect. A beggarly excuse was set up after the campaign was over,--that the time of service of many of the Regiments was about expiring, and that the men would not reenlist,--not only beggarly, but false. The great ma.s.s volunteered to remain as it was, with no prospect of service ahead. All would have stayed had the General shown any disposition for active work, or made them promise of a fight."

"Golly," said a tall, raw-boned Darkie, showing his ivories to a crowd of like color about him, as the fine band of the Fencibles played in front of the General's Head-quarters. "Dese Union boys beat de Mississippi fellurs all hollur playing Dixie."

Hardly a face was to be seen upon the streets, but those of these friendly blacks. They thronged about the camps, to be repulsed by stringent orders at all quarters. Property they were, reasoned the commander, and property must be respected. And it was; even pump handles were tied down and placed under guard. Oh! that a Ben Butler had then been in command, to have p.r.o.nounced this living property contraband of war, and by that sharp dodge of a pro-slavery Democrat, to have given Uncle Sam the services of this property. Depend upon it, that would have ended campaigning in the valley of the Shenandoah, that store-house of Rebel supplies, as it has turned out to be; supplies too, gathered and kept up by the negroes that Patterson so carefully excluded from his lines.

"And would have saved us this march," says the Colonel, "a goose chase at any rate."

"Yes, and had the policy of using the negro been general at the commencement of this Rebellion, troops would not be in the field at this day," responded the Lieutenant.

"Why do they not now, come boldly out and acknowledge that slavery is a curse to any nation?" said the Preacher Lieutenant. "It caused the Rebellion, and its downfall would be the Rebellion's certain and speedy death. Thousands of years ago, the Almighty cursed with plagues a proud people for refusing to break the bonds of the slave. The day of miracles is past. But war, desolating war, is the scourge with which He punishes our country. The curse of blood is upon the land; by blood must it be expiated. We in the North have been guilty, in common with the whole country, in tolerating, aiding, and abetting the evil. We must have our proportion of punishment. Why cannot the whole country meet the issue boldly as one man, and atone for past offence by unanimity in the abolition of the evil?"

"On the n.i.g.g.e.r again," said his Junior Lieutenant, a.s.suming, as he spoke, an oratorical att.i.tude. "Why do you not go on and talk about them working out their own salvation, with muskets on their shoulders and bayonets by their sides, and with fear and trembling too, I have no doubt it would be. Carry out your Scripture parallels. Tell how the walls of Jericho fell by horns taken from the woolly heads of rams; but now that miracles are no more, how the walls of this Jericho of Rebeldom are destined to fall before the well-directed b.u.t.ting of the woolly heads themselves. You don't ride your hobby with a stiff rein to-night, Lieutenant."

The taunting air and strained comparison of the Lieutenant enlivened the crowd, but did not in the least affect the Senior, who calmly replied:

"If our Government does not arm the negro on the basis of freedom, the Rebels in their desperation will, and although we have the negro sympathy, we may lose it through delay and inattention, and in that event, prepare for years of conflict. The negroes, at the outset of this Rebellion, were ripe for the contest. Armies of thousands of them might have been in the field to-day. Now the President's Proclamation finds them removed within interior Rebel lines, and to furnish them arms, will first cost severe contests with the Rebels themselves."

The toil of the day and the drowsiness caused by huge meals, gradually dispersed the crowd; but the discussion was continued in quarters by the various messes, until their actual time of retiring.

"Inspection! inspection!" said the Adjutant, on the succeeding afternoon, to the Lieutenant-Colonel for the time being in command of the Regiment, handing him, at the same time, an order for immediate inspection. "Six inspections in two weeks before marching," continued the Adjutant, "and another after a day's march. I wonder whether this Grand Army of the Potomac wouldn't halt when about going into battle, to see whether the men had their shoe-strings tied?"

The Adjutant had barely ceased, when the Inspecting officer, the ranking Colonel of the Brigade, detailed specially for the duty, made his appearance. He was a stout, full-faced man of fifty or upwards, with an odd mixture in his manner of piety and pretension. Report had it that his previous life had been one of change,--stock-jobber, note-shaver, temperance lecturer, and exhorter--

"All things by turns, and nothing long."

The latter quality remained with him, and it was a rare chance that he could pa.s.s a crowd of his men without bringing it into play. His "talks," as the boys called them, were more admired than his tactics, and from their tone of friendly familiarity, he was called by the fatherly t.i.tle of "Pap" by his Regiment, and known by that designation throughout the Brigade.

The Regiment was rapidly formed for inspection, and after pa.s.sing through the ranks of the first Company, the Colonel pompously presented himself before its centre, and with sober tones and solemn look, delivered himself as follows:

"Boys, have your hearts right," the Colonel clapping, at the same time, his right hand over his diaphragm. "If your hearts are right your muskets will be bright." The men stared, the movement not being laid down in the Regulations, and not exactly understanding the connexion between the heart and a clean musket; but the Colonel continued, "the heart is like the mainspring of a watch, if it beats right, the whole man and all about him will be right. There is no danger of our failing in this war, boys. We have a good cause to put our hearts in. The Rebels have a bad cause, and their hearts cannot be right in it. Good hearts make brave men, brave men win the battles. That's the reason, boys, why we'll succeed."

"Can't see it!" sang out some irreverent fellow in the rear rank.

The Colonel didn't take the hint; but catching at the remark continued, "You do not need to see it, boys, you can feel whether your heart is right." This provoked a smile on the faces of the more intelligent of the officers and men, which the Colonel noticed. "No laughing matter, boys," he said emphatically, at the same time earnestly gesticulating, "your lives, your country, and your honor depend upon right hearts." And thus the old Colonel exhorted each Company previous to its dismissal, amusing some and mystifying others. The heart was his theme, and time or place, a court-martial or a review, did not prevent the introduction of his plat.i.tudes.

Said the Major, after inspection, "The Colonel, in the prominence he gives the heart in its control of military affairs, rather reverses a sentiment I once heard advanced by a little Scotch tailor, who had just been elected a militia colonel."

"Let's have it, Major," said the Adjutant.

"The little Scotchman," continued the Major, "had been a notorious drunkard and profane swearer. Through the efforts of a travelling Evangelist, he became converted and joined a prominent denomination. His conversion was a remarkable instance, and gave him rapid promotion and a prominent position in the church. While at his height, through some scheme of the devil, I suppose, he was elected colonel of militia. The elevation overcame him. Treat he must and treat he did, and to satisfy the admiring crowd in front of the bar drank himself, until reason left, preceded by piety, and his old vice of profanity returned, with seven-fold virulence. He was discovered by a brother of the church, steadying himself by the railing of the bar, and rehearsing, amid volleys of oaths, the fragments that remained in his memory of an old Fourth of July speech. 'Brother,' said his fellow church-member, as he gently nudged his arm. 'Brother!' in a louder key, and with a more vigorous nudge, 'have you forgotten your sacred obligations to the church, your position as a--'

"'The church!' echoed the tailor, all the blood of the MacGregor rising in his boots, with an oath that shocked the brother out of all hope--'What's the church to military matters?'"

CHAPTER XI.

_Snicker's Gap--Private Harry on the "Anaconda"--Not inclined to turn Boot-Black--"Oh! why did you go for a Soldier?"--The ex-News-Boy--Pigeon-hole Generals.h.i.+p on the March--The Valley of the Shenandoah--A Flesh Carnival--The Dutch Doctor on a Horse-d.i.c.ker--An Old Rebel, and how he parted with his Apple-Brandy--Toasting the "Union"--Spruce Retreats._

The movement down the Valley was one of those at that time popular "bagging" movements, peculiar to the Grand Army of the Potomac, and in their style of execution, or to speak correctly, intended execution--for the absence of that quality has rendered them ridiculous--original with its Commander. Semi-official reports, industriously circulated from the gold-striped Staff to the blue-striped Field Officer, and by the latter whispered in confidence in the anxious ears of officers of the line, and again transferred in increasing volume to the subs, and by them in knowing confidence to curious privates, had it that the princ.i.p.al rebel force would be hemmed in, in the Valley of the Shenandoah, by our obtaining command of the Gaps, and then we would be nearest their Capital in a direct line--we would compel them to fight us, where, when, and how we pleased, or else beat them in a race to Richmond, and then----. The reader must imagine happy results that could not consistently be expected, while to gain the same destination over equidistant and equally good roads, Strategy moved by comparatively slow marches and easy halts, while Desperation strained every nerve, with rattling batteries and almost running ranks.

"But, Lieutenant, if that's so," alluding to the purpose of their march, "why are we halting here?"

"Our troops block up the roads, I suppose."

"We could march in the fields," rejoined the anxious private, "by the road-side; they are open and firm."

"We'll see, Harry, in a day or two, what it all amounts to. May be the 'Anaconda' that is to smash out the rebellion, is making another turn, or 'taking in a reef,' as the Colonel says."

"Well," rejoined the Private, "I have endeavored to book myself up, as far as my advantages would allow, in our army movements; and the nearest approach to anything like an anaconda, that I can see or hear of, is that infernal Red-tape worm that is strangling the soul out of the army.

What inexcusable nonsense to attempt to apply to an immense army in time of war, such as we have now in the field, the needless, petty pigeon-hole details that regulated ten thousand men on a peace establishment. And to carry them out, look how many valuable officers, or officers who ought to be valuable, from the expense Uncle Sam has been at to give them educational advantages, are doing clerkly duty--that civilians, our business men, our accountants, could as well, if not better, attend to--in the offices of the Departments at Was.h.i.+ngton, in the Commissary and Quarter-Master's Departments,--handling quills and cheese-knives instead of swords, and never giving 'the villainous smell of saltpetre' the slightest chance 'to come betwixt the wind and their n.o.bility.'"

Harry, at the time of his volunteering was an a.s.sociate editor of a well established and ably conducted country newspaper. He had thrown himself with successful energy into the formation of the regiment to which he belonged. A prominent position was proffered him, but he st.u.r.dily refused any place but the ranks, alleging that he had never drilled a day in his life, and particularly insisting that those who had seen service and were somewhat skilled in the tactics, although many of them were far his inferiors in intelligence, should occupy the offices. From his gentlemanly deportment and ability he was on familiar terms with the officers, and popular among the men. Withal, he was a finely formed, soldierly-looking man. In the early part of his service he was reserved in his comments upon the conduct of the war, and considered, as he was in fact, conservative,--setting the best possible example of taciturnity, subordinate to the wisdom of his superiors.

"Harry, you have been detailed as a clerk about Brigade Head Quarters,"

said the Orderly Sergeant of his company, one morning, after he had been in service about two months.

Harry did not like the separation from his Company in the least, but notwithstanding, quietly reported for duty. Several days of desk drudgery, most laborious to one fresh from out-door exercise, had pa.s.sed, when one morning about eight o'clock, a conceited c.o.xcomb of an aid, in slippers, entered the office-tent, and holding a pair of muddy boots up, with an air of matter-of-course authority--ordered Harry to blacken them, telling him at the same time, in a milder and lower tone, that black Jim the cook had the brush and blackening.

"What, sir?" said Harry, rising like a rocket, his Saxon blood mounting to the very roots of his red hair.

"I order you to black those boots, sir," was the repeated and more insolent command.

"And I'll see you d----d first," retorted Harry, doubling his fist.

The aid not liking the furious flush upon Harry's face, with wise discretion backed out, muttering after he was fairly outside of the tent, something about a report to the Brigadier. Report he did, and very shortly after there was a vacancy in his position upon the Staff of that Officer. Harry, at his own request, was in the course of a week relieved from duty, and restored to his Company. Ever after he had a tongue.

The reply of the Lieutenant to Harry's remarks has all this time been in abeyance, however.

"Harry," said that officer, "we must follow the stars without murmuring or muttering against the judgment of superiors,--but one can't help surmising, and," the Lieutenant had half mechanically added when the Sergeant-Major saluted him.

"Where is the Captain, Lieutenant?"

"Not about, at present."

"Well," continued the Sergeant, "reveille at four, and in line at five in the morning."