Pleasant Hill, Md., Sept. 1, 1861.
Since writing my last letter, we (General Banks' division)
have moved some fourteen miles, so that we are now within twenty miles of
Washington; you need not be surprised if my next letter comes from the latter
place, although we know nothing at all of our movements until we get marching
orders. These are given us, say, at nine o'clock at night. “Reveille” is
ordered to be at four A. M., and the cooks are directed to cook a day's
rations. At four, everybody is tumbled up, men get their breakfasts, pack their
knapsacks, and have their day's rations served out and put in their haversacks.
At six, the “general” is sounded, and at the last roll of the drum, every tent
comes down as if by magic. It is the greatest change you can imagine; one
minute you see the field covered with these great Sibley tents, the next
nothing but a mob, apparently, of men. By seven, the wagons are packed, the
line formed, we wheel into columns, regiment joins brigade, brigade joins
division, the column is formed and we start.
By the way, I never told you anything about “our” brigade.
It is the ‘Second,’ under
command of Colonel Abercrombie, an old army officer who has seen a great deal
of service; it consists of the Second and Twelfth Massachusetts and the Twelfth
and Sixteenth Indiana regiments. We have the right of the line. We are camped
now on the top of a hill close by General Banks' headquarters; the rest of the
brigade is in the same field with us; on the other side of the road are two or
three other regiments, and several more within sight. At night it looks like a
great city; every tent is illuminated and hundreds of camp-fires are all about
us. It is a fine sight. Then, too, there is continual music from the various
bands which play until “tattoo” stops them.
Our last march from Hyattstown was through a pouring rain
all day and any quantity of mud. To top off with, we had no tents for the
night. You would have thought that if ever men might grumble, it was then. I
did not hear one of our company open his mouth to complain, although they, as
well as we, had to lie down on the ground without any hot suppers. Camp-fires
of rail fences were a comfort that night. I got along very well by taking two
fence rails, laying them parallel and filling the space between them with
straw. Towards morning, the fire got low, and I had to burn my bedstead to keep
it from going out.
You know I said something in my last letter about the
baggage being reduced. The Brigade Quartermaster made us a call yesterday and
cut off our mess chests and the Captain's bedstead. We do not lose them; they
are being taken to Frederick and receipts given for them. In case of our being
in barracks this winter, we shall have them again. We saved our tea, coffee,
tea-kettle and our little coffee machine which is worth its weight in gold. The
people at the north, I think, have no idea what a fine army ours is becoming
under McClellan's influence. The men are being thoroughly drilled and they, as
well as the officers, are kept under the strictest discipline. Everybody here
is getting confident and longing for the next great event, which must take
place before long. We are now within a day's march of Washington, so that, in
case of an advance, our chance is good of sharing it.
SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written
During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 20-2
