CAMP PIERPONT, VA., November
21, 1861.
I intended to have written to you last evening, but came
back so tired from the grand review that I went right to bed. I have no doubt
the papers will give you a glowing description of this event, so long talked
about. For my part, all I can say is that I got up at half-past 3 A. M., the
morning very cold, with a heavy frost lying on the ground. At 6 o'clock we moved
and marched nine miles to the ground, at Bailey's Cross-Roads, where we arrived
about 10 o'clock, and were posted in a field where the mud was six inches deep,
and where we stood for four hours, after which we marched past General
McClellan, and then home, where we arrived, tired, hungry and disgusted, at
about 7 P. M. The day was cloudy, cold and raw, and altogether the affair as a “spectacle”
was a failure. I understand the object of the movement was to show the soldiers
what a large and well disciplined army had been collected together, and thus
give them confidence in themselves. I fear standing in the mud for four hours
and marching nine miles there and back took away greatly from the intended
effect. My own brigade did very well going to the review and on the ground, but
returning I found it utterly impossible to keep the men in the ranks. I used all
my influence with the officers first, and afterwards with the men, but
ineffectually, and at last abandoned it in disgust, one regiment being by the
time it reached camp pretty much all broken up and scattered. I felt annoyed
when I got back, and wearied at the fruitless efforts I had made. There was a
notion that the Grand Review was to be converted into a fight by making a dash
at Centreville, ten miles distant from the ground, but, instead of this, the
enemy made a dash at us, driving in our pickets on several parts of the line
and killing several of them. They also kept up a practicing with their heavy
guns all the afternoon, as if in defiance of our parade. General Smith required
his division to cheer McClellan. He passed our division front, but, not being
posted in the programme, we were silent.
The foregoing part of this letter was written in the court
room, where a poor devil was being tried for sleeping on his post.
As to horses, I did the best I could. The truth is, the
exposure is so great, it is almost impossible to keep a horse in good health.
Several of the officers of my staff have suffered in the same way. I have no
doubt you can get me a good horse for two hundred and fifty dollars. I can do
that here; but where are the two hundred and fifty dollars to come from?
Remember, I have paid now two hundred and seventy-five dollars already.
SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon
Meade, Vol. 1, p. 228-9
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