These two stories illustrate what we knew at that time about war.
On the night before the battle I was detailed to do guard duty before General Dick Richardson’s headquarters. He was occupying a small house. About eleven o’clock he came out and asked me if I would be on duty there at three o’clock in the morning. I answered “Yes.” Then he said pointing in the direction of the Stone Bridge, “About three o’clock in the morning a cannon will be fired over there. When you hear it, call me at once. A great battle will be fought here tomorrow.” I needed nothing more to keep me awake that night, nor did the General. He was out two or three times before the alarm gun was fired.
On the day of the first battle of Bull Run, having been on guard duty all night, I was left in camp when my regiment was ordered out. I took advantage of the opportunity to post myself on the Centerville Hill where I could overlook the field of action. Thus it happened that I was on the spot where the Congressional picnic party spread its luncheon. A number of members of Congress, with their ladies, drove out to Centerville from Washington in their carriages to have a picnic and see the battle.
From that position I saw the beginning of the panic when our troops on the right gave way and started for the rear in indescribable disorder. I went to our camp, secured my gun and accoutrements and joined in the stampede. Several times that night, when stopping for a little rest, I, and all about me, was aroused and terrified by the cry – “The black horse cavalry are coming!” The next morning I was safely back across the Potomac on the old Chain Bridge camping ground, competent to certify that the distance from Washington to Centerville is – three days going, and one night coming back.
As soon as our regiment got together we were ordered to go into camp on the Arlington Flats, south side of the Potomac, opposite Washington. There it was that Abraham Lincoln gave courage and cheer to the army by driving slowly around among the troops in an open carriage, stopping a moment here and there to speak to or take the hand of a private soldier, his face inspired with the solemn grandeur of an awful duty to prosecute the war for the preservation of the Union to a successful conclusion, or the bitter end. I see his face now, colored and featured as can never be done by brush or chisel. It inspires me now, as it did then, with a resolve such as every soldier in that army felt as he looked upon Lincoln’s face that day – a resolve unformed in words but possessing my life – always to do my duty for the cause of human rights and human welfare on every occasion and in every way, as God gives me light to see it and power to do it.
In the spring of 1862 my regiment was transported from Alexandria, Va., to Hampton Roads, when the Army of the Potomac changed its base to start its march “On to Richmond” from Old Point Comfort. We soon appeared before the Confederate fortifications at Yorktown. Here we were ordered to dig. When the digging was done the Confederate forces abandoned their fortifications and marched to Richmond. We followed closely. Their rear guard made a stand at Williamsburg, stopping our advance. The battle of Williamsburg was then on. The Confederates had prepared to defend this position by making slashings, digging rifle pits and erecting forts. Fort Magruder covered the main road into Williamsburg. The engagement at this point was brought on by some New Jersey troops. They advanced a battery on this road to a point directly in front of the Fort and very near the rifle pits. Here the battery stuck in the mud, hub deep. It could not be moved further nor brought back. During the day it was captured and recaptured several times.
At that time my regiment, and the Michigan Second Infantry, were part of Gen. Phil Kearny’s Division. We were on the left of the road, the New Jersey troops on the right. In the middle of the afternoon, when Gen. Hancock was prepared to make his famous charge on the Confederate left, Gen. Kearny, mounted on a white horse and dressed in full uniform, as conspicuous a figure as can well be imagined, came dashing up to the Michigan Second regiment and called out – “What regiment is this?” Col. Poe, a regular army officer, immediately saluted the General and said – “The Michigan Second Infantry, Col. Poe commanding.” General Kearny said – “I want this regiment.” Col. Poe turned to give the required regulation orders, but Gen. Kearny stopped him saying – “None of that! Come on boys!” A captain of his staff, seeing what he was about to do, tried to stop him, saying – “General you should not go into the engagement in this way. Remember, your life is worth a whole regiment to the army.” Turning to him like a flash, Gen. Kearny said – “If you do not want to go, stay here.” At that he reined his horse into the road and started toward the Confederate lines, waving his sword and shouting back – “Come on boys!” and every man followed, on both sides of the road, pell mell, without order, wading through mud and climbing through slashings up to the rifle pits in order to get there. How I came to be there I do not know, but I do know that I went up that road with my right shoulder next to Gen. Kearny’s left stirrup and kept that position until he reached the further edge of the slashing, when he turned and, pointing to the Confederates in their rifle pits, shouted to the men coming after him – “There they are!! Give them hell, boys, give them hell!!”