Drum Taps in Dixie Part 20

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE GRAND REVIEW.

The a.s.sembling of the armies at Was.h.i.+ngton was for the purpose of marching them in review through the nation's capital before mustering them out of service.

As Grant's and Sherman's troops numbered too many for a one day review, the former were given precedence and May 23 was fixed as the day.

We left our camps in Virginia at an early hour and crossed over the long bridge into that part of the city east of the capitol where the troops were ma.s.sed ready to move when the hour should arrive.

The signal gun was fired at 9 a. m., and the victorious hosts took up their line of march down the avenue, past the reviewing stand at the White House, thence to Georgetown and back to Virginia by the Aqueduct bridge.

The city was thronged with patriotic people from all over the country, many coming a thousand miles or more to see a father, brother, son or lover in the ranks of that mighty army that was so soon to vanish away.

The 2d corps did not pa.s.s the reviewing stand until afternoon and as we swung into Pennsylvania avenue a most grand and inspiring sight met our eyes. Every house top, balcony, window, tree and telegraph pole were black with people, and the street was a seething ma.s.s of humanity. Through the center, like a silvery stream coursing its way through a landscape, was a mile of glistening bayonets, waving flags and prancing steeds who had smelled the smoke of many battles. Everybody was thrilled with the sight, and as we marched down the avenue the music of the bands was drowned by the huzzahs of the throngs. Whenever a tattered battleflag appeared ladies rushed forward and strewed flowers before the standard bearers and loaded them and the color guards with wreaths and bouquets. Even the drummer boys came in for a share, and I felt then, as I do now, that it was a grand thing to have earned the right in whatever modest rank, to march with 100,000 veterans with the scars, smoke and dust of scores of battles upon them.

It took nearly all day for the Army of the Potomac to pa.s.s the reviewing stand which was filled with many of the prominent people of the country.

An incident of the review was the running away of Gen. Custer's horse, which became unmanageable in the parade and ran past the reviewing stand with the das.h.i.+ng general in the saddle and his red neck tie streaming out over his shoulders. After the steed was subdued the general rode back to the reviewing stand and saluted the dignitaries and was heartily cheered.

Every soldier who marched in that parade was impressed with the wording of a motto that was stretched across the front of the United States treasury.

It read, as near as I remember:

"The only debt we can never pay is the one we owe our brave soldiers and sailors."

SHERMAN'S ARMY.

Sherman and his veterans were reviewed the following day and the enthusiasm of the preceding day was repeated. The writer was a spectator and noted a marked difference in the appearance of the two armies. The Army of the Potomac had been "slicked up" a little for the occasion, and their marching was much better. Gen. Sherman expressed contempt for a paper collar on a soldier and the mult.i.tudes saw Sherman's army go through Was.h.i.+ngton just as they had marched to the sea.

"Sherman's b.u.mmers" were an amusing feature with their trophies gathered along the march through Georgia and the Carolinas, consisting of mules, donkeys, oxen, cows. .h.i.tched to plantation carts, and negro contrabands of all sizes and ages arrayed in costumes, quaint and ridiculous.

Immediately after the review the work of disbandment of the armies began and every day troops were sent north and the sword was laid aside for the plowshare.

SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY.

I read last night of a Grand Review In Was.h.i.+ngton's chiefest avenue-- Two hundred thousand men in blue, I think they said was the number-- Till I seemed to hear their tramping feet The bugle blast and the drum's quick beat, The clatter of hoofs in the stoney street, The cheers of the people who came to greet, And the thousand details that to repeat Would only my verse enc.u.mber,-- Till I fell in a revery, sad and sweet, And then to a fitful slumber.

When, lo! in a vision I seemed to stand In the lonely capitol. On each hand Far stretched the portico; dim and grand, Its columns ranged, like a martial band Of sheeted spectres whom some command Had called to a last reviewing.

And the streets of the city were white and bare, No footfall echoed across the square; But out of the misty midnight air I heard in the distance a trumpet blare, And the wandering night winds seemed to bear The sound of a far tattooing.

Then I held my breath with fear and dread; For into the square with a brazen tread, There rode a figure whose stately head O'erlooked the review that morning, That never bowed from its firm-set seat When the living column pa.s.sed its feet, Yet now rode steadily up the street To the phantom bugle's warning.

Till it reached the capitol square and wheeled And there in the moonlight stood revealed A well known form that in state and field Had led our patriot sires; Whose face was turned to the sleeping camp, Afar through the river's fog and damp, That showed no flicker, nor waning lamp, Nor wasted bivouac fires.

And I saw a phantom army come, With never a sound of fife or drum, But keeping time to a throbbing hum Of wailing and lamentation; The martyred heroes of Malvern Hill, Of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville, The men whose wasted figures fill The patriot graves of the nation.

And there came the nameless dead--the men Who perished in fever-swamp and fen, The slowly-starved of the prison-pen; And marching beside the others, Came the dusky martyrs of Pillow's fight, With limbs enfranchised and bearing bright; I thought, perhaps 'twas the pale moonlight-- They looked as white as their brothers!

And so all night marched the Nation's dead, With never a banner above them spread, Nor a badge, nor a motto brandished; No mark--save the bare uncovered head Of the silent bronze Reviewer; With never an arch save the vaulted sky; With never a flower save those that lie On the distant graves--for love could buy No gift that was purer or truer.

So all night long swept the strange array; So all night long, till the morning gray, I watched for one who had pa.s.sed away, With a reverent awe and wonder, Till a blue cap waved in the lengthening line, And I knew that one who was kin of mine Had come; And I spake--and lo! that sign Awakened me from my slumber.

--Bret Harte.

CHAPTER XIX.

WHEN JOHNNIE COMES MARCHING HOME.

After the grand review, our regiment was ordered back into the forts again around Arlington.

It was not until October, 1865, that we marched down Pennsylvania avenue for the last time to take the cars for home. Our regiment had gone to the front 18 months before, 1500 strong and notwithstanding the fact that the 9th New York had been consolidated with us we were going home with but 500 men.

At the Baltimore & Ohio railroad depot, in Was.h.i.+ngton, a pathetic incident occurred. A dozen or more of the regiment who were yet in the hospitals came down to see us off. Among them were three or four one-legged men and as many minus an arm. What must have been the feelings of these men who had to be left behind, maimed and crippled for life?

Our regiment being princ.i.p.ally from New York City we were sent there for disbandment and were quartered in some barracks at the battery for a couple of days.

One afternoon we marched up Broadway as far as the City Hall, where we were reviewed by the governor of the state and the mayor of New York.

The city had sent us a new stand of colors the year before and we were returning them, battle-scarred and tattered. My blood runs quicker as I recall the enthusiastic reception we received that afternoon from the crowds that lined Broadway.

Here and there was a group of veterans who had preceded us home. The old 63d, 69th and 88th New York regiments--Thomas Francis Meagher's Irish brigade, with whom we had served in Hanc.o.c.k's corps--and when any of these boys recognized us they went wild. There are two characteristics about an Irishman that I like. He is never lacking in enthusiasm or bravery.

After the review the regiment was ordered to proceed to Hart's Island, where it was to be paid off and disbanded. We went by boat, and an amusing episode occurred as the regiment was marching aboard.

Big Ed. ------ of the band, who played one of those old-fas.h.i.+oned big bra.s.s horns reaching back over his shoulder about three feet, and which could be heard to the foot of the line of a brigade, had been out with the boys seeing the sights, and it is possible may have been a little unsteady of foot. At any rate, he took two or three steps backward when he marched on the boat, and in doing so missed the gang plank and dropped into the cool waters of the bay. He came up clinging to his horn and called l.u.s.tily for help. The colonel and a couple of deck hands succeeded in landing him, horn and all.

The last man was finally aboard. The gang plank had been hauled in. The boatmen were casting off the big heavy ropes that held us to the dock, when a voice from sh.o.r.e shouted "Hold there!" The voice was that of a big, burly policeman. Behind him was a woman holding by one hand a boy of about 5 years of age, his curly golden locks floating out from under a little blue soldier cap. On the other side was a sweet-faced little girl.

"What's wanted?" yelled the captain from the upper deck.

"Is Sergt. Thomas Burke on board?" replied the big policeman.

"Blast my eyes if I know," retorted the captain "And I've no time to find out, either. You can settle your little business with him some other day,"

probably thinking the sergeant had been out on a lark.

Burke's comrades had found him in the meantime and he came to the side of the boat, and as he caught sight of the party, he said with a voice choked with emotion.

"Kate!"

"Oh, Tom!" responded Kate.

"Let me off the boat!" shouted Tom.

"Too late," replied the captain.