Chapter XVI: The Landing--On to Yorktown

“Well, here we are at last, Harry. Now for Richmond and the capturing of the Confederate Capital.”

It was Louis who spoke. The Goreville Volunteers, after landing at the government wharf at Fortress Monroe, had crossed the bridge leading to Hampton, marched through that semi-deserted and forlorn-looking town, and came to a halt on the highway leading to Yorktown.

“We are on land, that’s a fact,” returned Harry Bingham. “But where is another question. What a desolate country!” he added, as his eyes swept a wide range of half-ploughed and neglected corn and tobacco fields. “Is this what we have come to conquer?”

“I was told we were only about eighteen miles from Yorktown,” said Moses Blackwell. “I am very curious to see that place, for, if you will remember, it was there that Lord Cornwallis of the British forces surrendered to Washington eighty years ago.”

“That’s so!” cried Louis, much interested. “My grandfather was in that war. And come to think of it, they say the breastworks Washington’s troops threw up at that siege are still to be seen. I hope we catch sight of them,” he added, after a pause, but never dreamt how useful some of those same old breastworks were to become to the Union troops during those stirring battles which made the Peninsular Campaign so famous in history.

Regiments of infantry, bands of cavalry, and divisions of artillery were everywhere as far as eye could reach, covering not only the roadway, but the fields beyond. The volunteers had fancied they had moved on far enough for that first day, but presently the orders came to move on and another half-mile was covered, when the larger portion of their corps and another went into regular camp.

All of the boys in blue were in heavy marching order, that is, carrying with them everything that belonged to each soldier, his gun, cartridge box, canteen, haversack, knapsack, great coat, blanket and private property, and a march of five or six miles under such conditions is exceedingly fatiguing. To be sure, the route step was given, and everybody marched very much as he pleased in consequence, but even so, when the order to halt came everybody was glad enough to throw down his load and rest himself upon it.

“Ven I march like dis I vos feel me like von pack-mule,” remarked Hans Roddmann. “Dot load gits heavier und heavier bis it veighs apout a ton.”

“I’m getting used to the load,” answered Louis. “But it’s no fun, Hans, that’s a fact. But you must remember, we didn’t enlist for the fun of the thing.”

“Oh, no; put too much ist too much,” and Hans went off shaking his head. He was extra tired, and suffering from a bunion, and the fact that it was his duty to play cook for the next week did not tend to put him into good humor.

“To the field on the right, boys,” came the order from Captain Paulding, and the Goreville Volunteers hopped over a worm-fence located along the roadway. Two days later the fence had disappeared--chopped up for firewood. Firewood was not plentiful in the vicinity, and everything--fences, sheds and trees had to go for fuel. Only the log cabins and houses of the inhabitants were spared.

In going into camp, Louis soon learned that a regular rule was adopted. The four regiments forming a division were first placed in a large square, one regiment to each corner, or quarter, with the tent of the brigadier-general commanding in front of the whole. The grand square thus divided, each regiment was divided into divisions of two companies each, one company placed in a line behind the second company, the two about ten or fifteen yards apart, with each company divided from that next to it by about the same distance. When thus stationed, the soldiers were ordered to stack arms and unsling knapsacks, and then began the work of building up the tents in long rows behind the stacked guns, the officers’ quarters being placed on a line with the others, but either on the outside of all or in the “cross streets” between companies.

Before starting out on the campaign each soldier had been supplied with a bit of strong canvas about five feet square, having on the edges rows of strong buttons and button-holes. Usually four of these pieces of canvas were buttoned together, making a sheet ten feet square. This square was now thrown over a ridgepole, sometimes a straight branch of a tree, sometimes a fence-rail and then again nothing but a musket with bayonet attached, the ridgepole held up at each end by a short post driven into the ground. Thus “hoisted,” the canvas was stretched out as far as possible upon either side and pinned to the ground with sharpened sticks, after which a fifth patch of cloth was buttoned fast over the back end, when the “dog tent,” as all the soldiers called them, was ready for occupancy. Under such a covering would sleep, closely huddled together, the five men who had contributed their patches of cloth. Sometimes a sixth man would join the crowd or mess, when the weather was cold, and then the “dog” would have a “front door.”

“Gosh, this ain’t no palace, is it?” queried Nathan Hornsby, who was one of the members of the mess to which Louis belonged. “It’s all right enough in good weather, but creation help us if it storms.”

“I wonder how long we’ll stay here?” queried Louis.

“We’ll have to stay until all of the troops come down from Alexandria, I suppose,” said Harry, who also belonged to the mess, and who now sat on his knapsack in the shelter. “I heard somebody say that the last of the transports wouldn’t be in for a week yet.”

“If we stay here long the rebs will steal a march on us,” put in Moses Blackwell, who was vainly trying to light some green tobacco picked up at a ruined storehouse on the route hither. “Of course, it’s only natural they should fight like wildcats to keep us out of Richmond.”

“I think myself some of the troops ought to be sent ahead, at least as far as Yorktown,” said Louis. “That place ought to make a splendid base for supplies, being right along the York River, where our ships of war could cover it all the time.”

“I reckon we’re going to have lots o’ fightin’ afore we see the streets o’ Richmond,” ventured Bart Callings, who stood by. “We’ve got Yorktown to pass, an’ it’s full of rebels, an’ Williamsburg, an’ the Chickahominy River, where they’ll make a stand as sure as eggs is eggs, and then comes a lot of swamp woods, an’ I don’t know what all--an’ they’ll have every hole an’ corner o’ it fortified, mark my words!”

“Oh, we’ll get fighting enough,” answered another. “The rebs are just as brave as we are, every bit, and we might as well understand it so, first as last.”

“I go in for a dash,” was the comment of a little wiry man named Fleck. “Start the army on a run for Richmond and let it stop at nothing, and the day will be ours in less than a week.”

How long the discussion might have lasted, there is no telling, but just then came the cry: “Company B fall in for supper!” and every man sprang for his cup and dinner plate, for Company B in that regiment meant the Goreville Volunteers.

The cooking was done under a large tent at the end of the division grounds. Here, over a long fire built up of fence rails, tree branches or any other fuel which came handy, hung a row of smoky kettles, one containing coffee, another soup, another fresh or salt meat, and so on, the diet varying but little from meal to meal and day-to-day. The men marched up in a row, from kettle to kettle, each getting his cup and plate filled and also his supply of pilot crackers, or “hard tack.” This ended, the soldiers would return to their quarters, each crowd of five occupying a tent usually forming a mess of their own.

For over a week the Goreville Volunteers lay in the camp on the road not far from Big Bethel. During that time the weather remained fairly fine and, consequently, all were in the best of spirits, and even Jerry Rowe brightened up, although still grumbling because the fare was so plain and the war was not pushed so “it could be got done with and they could go home.”

At last, early in April, came the order to move, “in heavy marching order,” and once more the boys in that division found themselves on the way to Yorktown. In the meanwhile, another corps of the Army of the Potomac was pushing forward from Newport News Point, intending to clear the road up past a settlement called Lee’s Mills, for it must be remembered that in advancing upon Richmond it was the intention of General McClellan to make a general advance from the York to the James up the peninsula. A glance at a map of this territory will aid my readers greatly in following the movements which ensued.

“Forward, march!” came the command, about the middle of the forenoon, a band ahead struck up the then popular Washington March, and off the columns moved, the men four abreast, every uniform carefully brushed up, each button polished, the bright red blankets carefully rolled, and each musket and bayonet glistening brightly in the morning light. It was a sight to inspire the most listless and Louis felt almost like singing, as he moved away on the long, swinging route step.

Twelve miles were covered that day, and early in the morning the march was again resumed. But now the sun failed to shine and soon there started a light rain which by noon settled into a steady downpour. Louis threw his cape over his head, and shielded himself as much as possible, but the elements could not be fought off, and an hour later he was wet almost to the skin.

“An umbrella wouldn’t be a bad thing to have,” Harry Bingham started in to say, when the report of a number of firearms cut him short. The rattle of the musketry sounded from ahead, and a moment later came the command to halt.

The army was still some two miles and a half from Yorktown when the advanced guard had come upon some formidable earthworks stretched across the road and well into the woods beyond. As a matter of fact, the Confederate defences were afterwards found to stretch directly across the peninsula, from in front of Yorktown, as described, to Southall’s Landing. A sharp skirmish ensued between the advanced guard of the Union army and the Confederate outposts, and then the former fell back.

“Something is up,” said Louis, when the orders finally came to go into camp. “And it’s not a battle, either.”

He was right. Instead of making another demonstration, all became quiet, saving from the direction of Lee’s Mills, where the corps on the road from Newport News Point had also received a check. A regular camp was laid out, and the boys in blue proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as the state of the weather permitted.

Early in the morning Benny Bruce, as bright and eager as ever, sounded the reveille, and the soldiers came tumbling out of their tents to listen to a few words from Captain Paulding.

“This regiment is to march to the front, to do picket duty for twenty-four hours, from sunset to sunset. I wish all the men to remember that we are now in the very heart of the enemy’s country, and that each man must do his full duty. There must be no shirking from work, no nodding on post. Remember, a picket found asleep on his post is liable to be shot for his offense. Company will get ready to march in fifteen minutes.”

“Hurrah, we’re going to the front at last!” cried Louis. “I’m glad of it,” and he started to pack up with all possible haste. Soon they were on the march, Benny beating his drum louder than ever, until stopped by a general order to keep quiet, as they were now within easy hearing distance of the Confederates.

At the time the sun set, although there was no telling when that was by looking at the sky, for it still rained, Louis found himself on picket duty for almost the first time in his life. He had often stood guard, but picket duty was different, for now it was positively known that the enemy was just ahead. He had been stationed close to the edge of a woods and was given a beat of twenty feet, ending on the right at a big oak and on the left at a sideroad running into the Yorktown highway. Next to him, at the other side of the oak, Harry was stationed, while Callings covered the road. The reserves, or companies sent forward to aid the pickets, if needed, lay in a hollow some distance back, and with these were several cavalrymen detailed for any messenger service which might be deemed necessary.

Up and down his short walk tramped the young Union soldier, his gun loaded and his eyes and ears on the alert for anything which might appear in the least suspicious in the uneven field beyond the woods. He felt that he was now placed upon his mettle, and resolved that nothing should happen which might be put down to the enemy’s credit.

Two hours went by, long hours to the youth, for the short beat soon became a wearisome one, and the pickets had been cautioned not to speak to one another unless it became necessary. Stopping now and then, he could hear Harry tramping up and down, and occasionally came a murmur from the roadway, as Callings forgot himself and started to hum some well known tune.

And then, Louis stopped short again and clutched his musket tighter. What was that out in the field, moving slowly along beside a large, rough rock? With his heart standing fairly still, he dashed the rain from his eyebrows and took a step forward. Beyond a doubt it was the form of a man.