Marches of the Federal armies
Fenwick Y. Hedley, Brevet Captain, United States Volunteers, and Adjutant, Thirty-second Illinois Infantry
It was said of Napoleon that he ‘overran Europe with the bivouac.’ It was the bivouac that sapped the spirit and snapped the sinews of the Confederacy. No other war in history presents marches marked with such unique and romantic experiences as those of the Federal armies in the Civil War.It is worth while to note one march which has received little attention from annalists—one of much importance at the moment, in the meaning it gave to the word ‘discipline,’ and, also, in the direction it gave to the fortunes of the man who was destined to direct all the armies of the Union.
Early in the opening war-year, 1861, an embryo Illinois regiment was on the verge of dissolution. It was made up of as good flesh and blood and spirit as ever followed the drum. But the colonel was a politician without military training, and under him the men refused to serve. There was no red tape to cut, for there had been no muster — in for service. So the rejected colonel was sent his way, and a plain, modest man, Ulysses S. Grant by name, was put in his place.
Colonel Grant was ordered to Missouri. He declined railroad transportation. Said he, ‘I thought it would be good preparation for the troops to march there.’ He marched his men from Camp Yates, at Springfield, to Quincy, on the Mississippi River, about one hundred miles, expecting to go as much further, when an emergency order from the War Department required him to take cars and hasten to another field. So early in the war, such a march was phenomenal. It was [203]
The Civil War soldier as he really looked.
There is nothing to suggest military brilliancy about this squad. Attitudes are as prosaic as uniforms are unpicturesque. The only man standing with military correctness is the officer at the left-hand end. But this was the material out of which was developed the soldier who could average sixteen miles a day for weeks on end, and do, on occasion, his thirty miles through Virginia mud and his forty miles over a hard Pennsylvania highway. Sixteen miles a day does not seem far to a single pedestrian, but marching with a regiment bears but little relation to a solitary stroll along a sunny road. It is a far different matter to trudge along carrying a heavy burden, choked by the dust kicked up by hundreds of men tramping along in front, and sweltering in the sun—or trudge still more drearily along in a pelting rain which added pounds to a soaked and clinging uniform, and caused the soldiers to slip and stagger in the mud.
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In the East, throughout the war, the principal military movements were restricted to a comparatively small territory —the region about the Confederate capital, Richmond, and the approaches thereto. The chief exception was the Gettysburg campaign, in 1863, involving a march of somewhat more than two hundred miles. The famous marches in this part of the country were forced ones, short in duration, but involving intense fatigue and hardship, and often compelling troops to go into battle without much-needed rest. In the hasty concentration at Gettysburg there were some very noteworthy performances by Meade's army. The Sixth Corps started from Manchester, Maryland, at dark, on July 1st. ‘Without halting,’ says General Wright, ‘except for a few moments each hour to breathe the men, and one halt of about half an hour to enable the men to make coffee, the corps was pushed on to Gettysburg, where it arrived about 4 P. M. after a march variously estimated at from thirty-two to thirty-five miles.’
Early in the afternoon of May 4, 1864, Grant telegraphed Burnside to bring the Ninth Corps immediately to the Wilderness. The divisions were stationed along the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, but by the morning of the 6th all were on the battlefield. Some of the troops had marched over thirty miles. General Grant says, ‘Considering that a large proportion, probably two-thirds, of the corps was composed of new troops, unaccustomed to marches, and carrying the accouterments of a soldier, this was a remarkable march.’ For hardships and exhaustion few marches exceeded the race from the North Anna to the Pamunkey in May, 1864. Hundreds of men dropped dead from lack of proper precaution in the intense heat.
In the West, unlike the East, the principal Union armies were almost constantly in motion, and on long extended lines. [205]
Western Army
The peculiarity of the drill in the Western armies was their long swinging stride. The regulation army step was twenty-eight inches, and the men in the East were held rigidly to this requirement. But the Westerners swung forward with a long sweep of the leg which enabled them to cover great distances at a rapid pace. In November, 1863, Sherman marched his Fifteenth Corps four hundred miles over almost impassable roads from Memphis to Chattanooga; yet his sturdy soldier boys were ready to go into action next day.
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Operations in the West opened early in 1861, with St. Louis and the Ohio River as primary bases. By the summer of 1862, armies under Halleck in Missouri, under Grant in Tennessee, and under Buell in Kentucky had pushed their way hundreds of miles southward. These operations involved much marching, but, in view of later experiences, were not marked with such peculiar incidents as to claim attention here.
In September, 1862, occurred a march which alarmed the North much as did Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania the following year. General Don Carlos Buell's troops occupied points in Tennessee. The Confederates, under General Bragg, so threatened his rear that he was obliged to abandon his position. Then ensued a veritable foot-race between the two armies, on practically parallel roads, with Louisville as the goal. Buell reached the city just in advance of his opponent —both armies footsore and jaded from constant marching and frequent skirmishing.
An early march, and one well worthy of remark, was that ordered and directed by General Grant, in the fall of 1862. The objective point was the rear of Vicksburg. His army moved in two columns—one from La Grange, Tennessee, under his own personal command; the other from Memphis, Tennessee, under General Sherman. Their advance reached the neighborhood of Grenada, Mississippi, having marched a distance of one hundred miles. Further progress was stayed by the capture of Holly Springs, Mississippi, in their rear, with all its ammunition stores and commissary supplies, by the Confederate general, Forrest. As a consequence, a retrograde march was inevitable. [207]
Protecting the rear for the march to the sea
The armed guard indicates that the pick-and-shovel detail is made up of delinquent soldiers serving petty sentences. It seems strange that the throwing up of entrenchments about a city should form an essential part of marching, but so it was in the case of the greatest march of the Civil War, which covered a total distance of a thousand miles in less than six months. Sherman did not dare to leave Atlanta with his 62,000 veterans until his rear was properly fortified against the attacks of Hood. The upper photograph shows some of Sherman's men digging the inner line of entrenchments at Decatur, Alabama, a task in vivid contrast to the comfortable quarters of the officers at the Decatur Hotel shown in the cut below. Their military appearance suffers somewhat from their occupation, but digging was often more important than fighting, for the soldier. Having despatched Thomas to Nashville, and having left strongly entrenched garrisons at Allatoona and Resaca, as well as at Decatur, Sherman launched his army from Atlanta, November 15, 1864. He cherished the hope that Hood would attack one of the fortified places he had left behind, and that is precisely what occurred. Hood and Beauregard believed that Sherman's army was doomed, and turned toward Tennessee. Sherman believed that his march would be the culminating blow to the Confederacy. The lower photograph shows the pontoon-bridge built by Sherman at Decatur at the time his army marched swiftly to the relief of Chattanooga.
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While southward bound, the Union troops found just sufficient opposition by the Confederates under General Pemberton to keep them engaged, without impeding their progress. The conditions were now changed. They were greatly harassed, and at times were obliged to march with the utmost speed to avoid being cut off at an intersecting road in their rear. Their unusual and protracted privations were experiences such as had been heretofore unknown. They had set out in the lightest marching order known at that time. Wagon trains were reduced to carry only ammunition and indispensable food. No tents were carried except a few for officers.
When Grant advanced upon Vicksburg in May, 1863, the army again ‘marched light,’ and it has been said that the general's only baggage was a package of cigars and a toothbrush. Vicksburg surrendered on July 4th, and the same day, without entering the city, a large portion of the army marched rapidly away to attack General Johnston, at Jackson. The distance was little more than fifty miles, but never did troops suffer more severely. It was a forced march, under an intense, burning sun; the dust was stifling, and the only water was that from sluggish brooks and fetid ponds.
In November, 1863, General Sherman marched his Fifteenth Corps from Memphis to Chattanooga, a distance of nearly four hundred miles, over almost impassable roads. When he arrived his men were in a most exhausted condition, yet they were ready to go into action the next day.
Following almost immediately after the march above mentioned, Sherman moved his men from Chattanooga to the relief of Burnside at Knoxville. The distance was not great, about one hundred and twenty-five miles, but the troops were utterly worn out by their forced march in the intensely cold mountain atmosphere.
In February, 1864, General Sherman marched a force of twenty thousand men from Memphis and Vicksburg to Meridian, Mississippi, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. [209]
On the march.
It was a hot and dusty tramp after Spotsylvania in May, 1864, as Grant strove to outflank Lee. When Grant's men reached the North Anna River, they found that the bridge had been burned. Ignorant of the fighting before them at Cold Harbor, where ten thousand men were to be shot down in a few minutes, they enjoyed a refreshing swim and bath. The lower photograph will bring memories to every veteran of the Virginia campaigns—the eager rush of the men on the march for the deep dark well of the Virginia plantations. This one has been covered and a guard placed over it to prevent waste of water; for a well soon runs dry when an army commences to drink.
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Sherman's ‘march to the sea’ is unique among marches. The army had good training for its undertaking. Its commander had led it from Chattanooga to the capture of Atlanta, and had followed the Confederate general, Hood, northward. Shortly after Sherman abandoned the pursuit of Hood, he detached Stanley's Fourth Corps and Schofield's Twenty-third Corps to the assistance of Thomas, in Tennessee. This march of nearly three hundred miles was one of the most arduous of the war, though lacking in the picturesqueness of that to the sea; it included the severe battle of Franklin, and had victorious ending at Nashville.
Sherman's army marched from Atlanta and vicinity on November 15, 1864. The men set forward, lifting their voices in jubilant song. As to their destination, they neither knew nor cared. That they were heading south was told them by the stars, and their confidence in their leader was unbounded.
It was a remarkable body of men—an army of veterans who had seen three years of constant field-service. Through battle, disease, and death, nearly every regiment had been greatly reduced. He was a fortunate colonel who could muster three hundred of the thousand men he brought into service. Thirty men made more than an average company; there were those which numbered less than a score. It was also an army of youngsters. Most of the older men and the big men had been worn down and sent home.
To each company was allowed a pack-mule for cooking utensils (frying-pans and coffee-pots), but frequently these were dispensed with, each soldier doing his own cooking after even more primitive fashion than in his earlier campaigns. All dispensable items of the army ration had been stricken out, the supply being limited to hard bread, bacon, coffee, sugar, and [211]
The extremities of the thousand-mile Federal line on the Mississippi.
It was from Cairo that the Federals in 1862 cautiously began to operate with large forces in Confederate territory. And it was in New Orleans, the same spring, that the Federal Military Department of the Gulf established its headquarters. Farragut had forced the forts, and the city had fallen. The lower photograph shows the Federal Headquarters at New Orleans, a thousand miles from Cairo. The orderlies on the porch and the flag floating in front of the delicate ‘banquette,’ of the building, the iron tracery that came over from France, show that the city has passed into Union hands and become the headquarters of the Military Department of the Gulf. The flag can be dimly descried opposite the corner of the building just below the roof. There was evidently enough wind to make it flap in the breeze.
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The train with each corps had been reduced to the lowest possible number of wagons. Nothing was transported but ammunition, commissary supplies, and grain for the animals —the latter only to be used when the country would not afford animal subsistence. In addition, to each regiment was allowed a single wagon to carry ammunition, a single tent-fly to shelter the field-desks of the adjutant and quartermaster, a small mess-kit for the officers in common, and an ordinary valise for each of them. In case of necessity (not an uncommon occurrence on account of crippled horses and bad roads), some or all of these personal belongings were thrown out and destroyed.
The army marched in four columns, usually ten to fifteen miles apart, on practically parallel roads. The skirmishers and flankers of each corps extended right and left until they met those of the next corps, thus giving a frontage of forty to fifty miles. As a consequence, the widely dispersed forces were soon ready for handling as a unit. At a river, two or more corps met, to utilize a pontoon train in common.
The day's itinerary was much the same throughout the march. Soon after daybreak the bugle sounded the reveille, and the men rolled their blankets and prepared their meal. An [213]
Commissary Department.
The big barracks of a mess-hall with such food as would make a soldier grumble in times of peace, would have seemed a veritable Mecca to a soldier of 1864 in Camp or on the march. The accompanying photographs show how the commissary department of the Army of the Potomac supplied the individual soldier with meat and water. Above is displayed a commissary at the front in full swing with a sentry to guard its precious stores. Below, soldiers can be seen filling their water cart at a well, and waiting while an attache of the commissary department cuts off rounds of beef and issues portions to the various messes. The photograph in the center shows the final result, witnessed by the savory-looking steam blown from the kettle on top of the charred timbers.
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The men marched ‘at will,’ with little semblance of military order, yet each knew his place. Good-natured badinage, songs, school-day recitations, discussions as to destination— these served to pass the time. Seldom was halt made for a noontime meal, the men eating as they marched. At an occasional halt, some gathered over their cards; some put a few stitches in a dilapidated garment; some beat the sand and dust out their shoes, and nursed their blistered, travel-worn feet. The evening was pleasantly passed around the camp-fire.
But a day seldom passed without its trials. Frequently a Confederate force appeared in front; the cavalry advance was driven back, while a regiment or brigade, and a few pieces of artillery, moved rapidly to the front. A half-hour later the foe had vanished; a grave or two was dug beneath the shadow of the trees; an ambulance received a few wounded men, and the march was resumed.
Again, the rain fell in torrents the day long, and, sometimes, for days. The men marched in soaked clothing. The roads were quagmires, and thousands of men labored for hours tearing down fences and felling saplings to make a corduroy road, over which the artillery and wagon trains might pass.
At another time the march lay across or near a railway which could be of much use to the Confederates. The soldiers lined up along its length and, lifting the ends of the ties, literally overturned the iron way. The ties were piled together and fired; the iron rails were thrown upon them, and, after they were well heated in the middle, they were wrapped around trees, or twisted with cant-hooks. [215]
Pickets seven hundred miles apart.
The two picket stations shown in these photographs illustrate the extended area over which the Federal soldiers marched out to picket duty. European wars, with the exception of Napoleon's Russian campaign, have rarely involved such widely separated points simultaneously. Picketing was considered by the soldiers a pleasant detail. It relieved them of all other Camp requirements, such as drills and parades. The soldiers in the photographs are lolling at ease with no apparent apprehension of any enemy, but it must not be assumed from their relaxation that they are not vigilant. Beyond these little camps regular sentinels are on duty with keenly observant eyes. When their tour of duty has been completed they will be relieved by some of the men who are so much at ease. The pickets retreated before any advance in face of the Confederates, and rejoined the main body of troops. In the Atlanta photograph, the ‘reserve post’ is slightly in the rear of the outer line of pickets. Judging from the rough earthworks, the dilapidated house, and the smashed window-frame in the foreground, there has evidently been fighting at this point. Nearly all of the men have on high-crowned hats, which afforded better protection against the sun than the forage cap.
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General Sherman reduced foraging to a system in the West, and, more especially during his rapid and extended marches, foraging became a necessary means of subsistence for men and animals. As the general expressed it, ‘No army could carry food and forage for a march of three hundred miles, and there being no civil authorities to respond to requisition, this source of supply was indispensable to success.’
In preparing for his march to the sea, he issued specific instructions for foraging ‘liberally upon the country,’ and these were reasonable in the interest of his men, and humane as regarding the people who were to be foraged upon. Each brigade commander was to send out a foraging party under a discreet commissioned officer, to gather in from the region adjacent to the route traveled whatever might serve as subsistence for man and beast, also wagons, horses, and mules for conveying the supplies to the troops; the animals were then to be utilized in the artillery and wagon trains to replace those worn out. Entering dwelling-houses was forbidden. With each family was to be left a reasonable portion of food, and discrimination was to be made in favor of the poor. As a matter of fact, few soldiers saw or heard of these regulations until after the march was ended. But, with the remarkable adaptability of the American soldier, they became on the instant ‘a law unto themselves,’ and in spirit and deed carried out the provisions of their commander, of which they had not heard. These foraging parties numbered twenty-five to fifty men each. They set out usually before the troops broke camp, and extended their expeditions three to five miles on either flank. They brought in their supplies in every manner of vehicle— wagons, carts, and carriages, drawn indiscriminately by horses, mules, oxen, or cows, strung together with harness, rope, or chains; a complete set of harness was seldom found.
The supplies thus obtained were turned over to the brigade commissary for issue in the regular way to the various regiments. The result was general dissatisfaction. At no time [217]
Preparations for the march to the sea—Atlanta, 1864
The soldiers sprawling on the freight-cars are one of the bodies of troops that Sherman was shifting—changing garrisons, and establishing guards, in preparation for his famous march to the sea. Below appears a wagon-train leaving Atlanta; but comparatively few wagons accompanied the troops on this movement. Everything possible was discarded and sent back over Sherman's strong line of communications. The soldier's personal effects were generally limited to his blanket, a pair of socks, and a piece of shelter-tent, although many discarded even the latter. Nothing was transported but ammunition, absolutely necessary commissary supplies, and grain for the animals. All invalids and those incapacitated for hard marching were sent back, and the average company was less than thirty men.
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The forager or ‘bummer’ at first was usually afoot; sometimes he rode a horse or mule which had been ‘condemned’ and turned out of the wagon train. His search at the first farm was for a fresh mount; with this, success was assured. The forager frequently found a willing ally in the plantation negro, who would guide him to a swamp where animals had been taken, or to a spot where provisions had been buried. In some instances what appeared to be a grave was pointed out, which would yield treasures of preserves, choice beverages, and jewelry.
Nearly all the inhabitants had gone farther into the interior, taking with them what of their possessions they could; in such cases, the deserted buildings were utterly despoiled. The few people who remained were old men, women, and children. To these the forager was usually respectful, even sympathetic, and in some instances he laid the foundations for a personal friendship which exists to this day. But with all his good nature, the forager was diplomatic, and he so skilfully directed his conversation that he frequently acquired knowledge of sources of supply at the next plantation, and even of movements of the Confederate soldiery, which was esteemed of value at headquarters.
If the foragers were fortunate, the meal of their squad or company was incomparable—turkeys, chickens, smoked meats, sweet potatoes, preserves, sorghum, and not infrequently a jug or keg of whisky. The cellars of some abandoned mansions yielded even richer store—cobwebbed wine-bottles dating back to the '30's.
Thus lived Sherman's army for eighteen days on its march [219]
Western troops during Sherman's march.
In these three photographs appear sturdy Western troops at the beginning, middle, and end of Sherman's march to the sea. Between Chattanooga and Atlanta he was busy strengthening the rear. At Atlanta he gathered his resources and made his final depositions for the great march. His was a remarkable body of men, the majority veterans who had seen three years of constant field service, yet in considerable proportion not yet old enough to vote. Many of the staff and company officers were as young as the men in the ranks. The army marched in four columns usually ten to fifteen miles apart, and the skirmishes and flankers of the various corps extended over a frontage of forty or fifty miles. The day's itinerary was much the same throughout—reveille soon after daybreak, breakfast, assembly, and ‘forward march.’ The end of the day's march was reached in the middle of the afternoon or early evening, and the average distance was something more than sixteen miles. The sea was finally sighted at Savannah, Georgia, on the 10th of December.
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The forager experienced a startling transformation in April of 1865. The war was over. Sherman's men were marching from Raleigh, North Carolina, for the national capital to be disbanded. The citizens no longer fled at their approach, but flocked to the road to see them pass. Among them were scores of Lee's or Johnston's men, still clad in their ‘butternut’ uniforms. The forager's occupation was gone, and he was now in his place in the ranks, and he stepped out, now and again, to buy eatables, paying out ‘Uncle Sam's greenbacks.’
Sherman's last two campaigns may be called a march in three acts. The march to the sea began at Atlanta and ended at Savannah, a distance of three hundred miles, consuming eighteen days. After a period of rest began the march through the Carolinas, ending at Goldsboro, four hundred and twentyfive miles, in the words of Sherman, ‘concluding one of the longest and most important marches ever made by an organized army,’ and culminating in the close of hostilities with the surrender of General Johnston.
After a few days the march to Washington was begun, a further distance of three hundred and fifty miles, and May 24, 1865, the troops marched down Pennsylvania Avenue in presence of applauding thousands, then to be at once disbanded and never to assemble again.
The total distance marched between Atlanta and Washington, in less than six months, was about one thousand miles. General Sherman claimed for his army, in its various marches, beginning at Vicksburg and ending at Washington, a total of twenty-eight hundred miles, including the many detours.
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With the veteran armies
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The well-disciplined ‘regulars’—a scene of April 3, 1864: men who demonstrated the value of training at gaines' mill: the eleventh ‘U. S.’
in their trim Camp at Alexandria.
They stand up very straight, these regulars who formed the tiny nucleus of the vast Union armies.
Even in the distance they bear the stamp of the trained soldier.
At Bull Run the disciplined soldiers showed a solid front amid the throng of fugitives.
At Gaines' Mill, again, they kept together against an overwhelming advance.
It was not long, however, before the American volunteers on both sides were drilled and disciplined, furnishing to Grant and Lee the finest soldiery that ever trod the field of battle.
There were surprisingly few regulars when 1861 came.
The United States regular army could furnish only six regiments of cavalry, sixty batteries of artillery, a battalion of engineers, and nineteen regiments of infantry.
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The American volunteers, however, soon acquired the soldierly bearing Of the 3,559 organizations in all branches of the service in the Union armies, the States furnished 3,473. The Eleventh Infantry in the regular army was organized at Fort Independence, Boston Harbor, by direction of the President, May 4, 1861, and confirmed by Act of Congress, July 29, 1861. It fought throughout the war with the Army of the Potomac. This photograph was taken at Alexandria, Va., a month before the Wilderness. The regiment participated in every important battle of the Army of the Potomac, and was on provost duty at Richmond, Va., from May to October, 1865. The regiment lost during service eight officers, 117 enlisted men killed and mortally wounded, and two officers and eighty-six enlisted men by disease. |
Veterans in camp—the 114th Pennsylvania at Brandy Station.
A vivid illustration of the daily Camp life of the Army of the Potomac in the winter of 1863-64 is supplied by these two photographs of the same scene a few moments apart. On the left-hand page the men are playing cards, loafing, strolling about, and two of them are engaged in a boxing match. On the right the horse in the foreground is dragging a man seated on a barrel over the snow on a sled, another man is fetching water, and the groups in front of the huts are reading newspapers. In the lower photograph the card-playing, lounging, and boxing continue, the horses have been ridden, led, and driven out of the picture, and the man with the bucket has turned away. During the war Pennsylvania furnished to the service twenty-eight regiments, three battalions and twenty-two companies of cavalry, five regiments, two battalions, and three companies of heavy artillery, one battalion and twenty-nine batteries of light artillery, a company of engineers, one of sharpshooters, and 258 regiments, five battalions, and twenty-five companies of infantry.
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