Got the order at midnight to start at three A. M. It made a
wild picture in the dark morning, the camp fires blazing high, surrounded by
dark forms. A little piece of the old moon just rising in the east. We bade
good-by to the camp, marched through the town, and about daylight struck the
Bayou Sara road towards Port Hudson. We knew then for the first time in which
direction we were going.
It was very pleasant marching in the cool of the morning
through the heavy woods. The road was perfectly straight, and we could see it
narrowing until the trees on each side seemed to meet, miles ahead. About nine
A. M. we reached the river, Bayou Montesino. Two bridges crossed it, a pontoon
and a plank. At this time, General Banks passed through the lines to the front.
All was silence. I could not help thinking of the time, nearly a year ago, when
we were marching in the same way, on a road very similar, towards Yorktown, when
McClellan passed along through the army, and for miles and miles the cheers
were deafening. We halted at the bridge some time for the wagons to get over.
At noon we halted near a farm-house, fourteen miles from Port Hudson. The men
made sad work with the poultry and stock. This army will be demoralized, if
this pillaging is allowed to go on. My regiment think it hard that I won't let
them go in and plunder when every body else is doing it. These marauders not
only steal poultry and other live meat, but in some cases even go into the
houses, and take the food off the table, steal jewelry, and other valuables. I
believe in “living on the enemy's country,” but the beef and other food should
be taken by the proper officers and issued to the troops as it is required, not
slaughtered recklessly and left untouched to waste. Besides, it is the moral
effect on troops, if they are allowed to steal and kill, each one for himself.
They soon become lawless and ungovernable, — an armed mob.
My regiment shall not pillage in this way, if every other
regiment in this army does.
These people will be likely to favor the advance of a
federal army, if their houses are to be ransacked, furniture broken, etc., by a
mob of soldiers, every time a brigade passes their door. Banks must publish
some severe order to stop this thing, or I wouldn't give much for his army in a
month's time.
(Since writing the above a week ago, an order has been
issued to remedy this evil. It is not severe enough yet.)
We marched a few miles farther and went into bivouac, in a
large open field, and pitched the shelter tents.
I had been in the saddle since three in the morning, twelve
hours, but it made me laugh to myself, at hearing other mounted officers
complain of “being all tired out,” etc. I found a good place for the horses in
a barn near by, and then lay down on the grass and fell asleep, waiting for the
wagon with my tent and food to come up. Got the tent pitched about sundown.
Some hay made a luxurious bed, into which I crawled as soon as I had attended
to everything, which was near nine P. M. Grover's advance is within four or
five miles of the enemy's works; Emory's between us and Grover. I went to sleep
the moment I touched the ground. Was awakened at eleven by heavy cannonading at
the front, towards the river. It was the gunboats. We slept after this with one
eye open, hearing the terrific roar of artillery.
SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William
Francis Bartlett, p. 73-5
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