Read Ebook: The story of the Thirty Eighth regiment of Massachusetts volunteers by Powers George Whitefield

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While at Carrollton, Col. Ingraham took command of a brigade, and never rejoined the regiment. He participated in the first part of the T?che campaign; but, being unable to endure field service in the climate of Louisiana, was appointed Provost Marshal at Washington, in which position he gave such satisfaction that he was retained in service by special order after the regiment was mustered out, and brevetted as brigadier-general. A few days after arriving at Carrollton, the regiment experienced its first Louisiana rain-storm. The camp-ground was soon intersected by miniature bayous; and, as the drains were not in good order, some of the streets were completely flooded; while the tents, being old, afforded but little shelter from the storm. The company streets, after one of these winter-rains, were like so many mortar-beds. Much has been written about the Virginia mud, in connection with the Army of the Potomac; but, if it equalled that of Louisiana, the face of the country in that part of Virginia must have been greatly changed by the movements of the armies; and the mixing of soil will afford matter for study for future agriculturists. As soon as the regiment was fairly settled in camp, drills were resumed with vigor. During the stay on Ship Island, the manual of arms had been changed: the old system was now restored, much to the satisfaction of the men. On the 6th of the month, Gen. Banks, accompanied by Gens. T. W. Sherman and Emory, visited the camp. The regiment was engaged in battalion drill, at the time; and, as the visitors approached, were drawn up into line to receive them. Then, the Thirty Eighth, as far as regarded appearance, were in their prime. Disease had not yet thinned the ranks; four months' drill, under competent field and line officers, had brought them to a high standard in the manual of arms and in battalion movements; Adjutant Loring had paid particular attention to the personal neatness of the men; and the men were not yet discouraged by those gloomy accounts which afterward came from the North, showing a want of faith in the ability of the army to put down the rebellion, and an unwillingness to strengthen it by reinforcements of good men. As spring drew near, the camp was full of rumors in regard to the coming campaign; and three days' rations were kept cooked most of the time.

At midnight, on the 11th, sudden orders came to "fall in" for sixty rounds of cartridges each; to pack knapsacks, and put two days' rations in the haversacks. It was rumored that the rebels operating up the river had been largely reinforced by troops from Richmond, under Longstreet, and that the Thirty Eighth were to join the main body of the Army of the Gulf. The knapsacks were to be packed, and left behind, and the camp left standing, the troops going into the field in light marching order. After waiting until the middle of the forenoon, the orders were countermanded, the extra cartridges returned, and drill resumed.

On the 24th of January, the Thirty First Massachusetts, Col. Gooding, who had been doing duty at the forts, arrived, and went into camp near the Thirty Eighth, Col. Gooding taking command of the brigade. At this time, brick ovens were built in the camp, and the regiment had their baked beans regularly Sunday mornings.

During the first week in February, the division drilled together at Camp Parapet, near Carrollton. On the 3d, the One Hundred and Sixteenth struck tents, and marched off in the direction of Baton Rouge; and, in a few days, their camp was occupied by the Fifty Third Massachusetts,--a nine-months' regiment, who were in the third brigade until their term of service expired.

On the morning of the 10th of February, the knapsacks were again packed preparatory to a move; but the tents were left standing, and the camp put in charge of the light-duty men, of which there were then a large number.

When the regiment first arrived at Carrollton, the general health was unusually good; but the change in the water, the dampness of the low land, and the frequent guard-duty had made their mark, and thinned the ranks.

It was nearly dark before the regiment embarked on the first of the numerous river-boats with which they afterward became so familiar. A thick fog came up during the night; and, in the morning, the boat was found to be snugly moored to the river-bank, near a large plantation, the mansion-house being then occupied as a signal-station; but the fog cleared up during the forenoon, and the boat proceeded on her voyage. The sail was a pleasant one, and was greatly enjoyed; and, as the river had risen since the arrival of the regiment at New Orleans, it presented a nobler appearance than at that time. Plantation after plantation stretched along the banks, on both sides of the river; but few of them showed any signs of activity. The residences of many of the planters indicated taste and refinement; and, in some instances, the negro cabins had a very attractive and picturesque appearance. These plantations may have belonged to men of the St. Clare school; but no Evas were seen sporting among the roses, or Uncle Toms "keeping an eye on things." During the afternoon, Jefferson College was passed, and, still later, a large convent, prettily situated near the river, with grounds tastefully laid out. About midnight, the boat arrived at Plaquemine, an old-fashioned, dilapidated looking town, but which is said to have been a thriving place before the rebellion, when the Mississippi was covered with steamers, and the products of the cotton and cane-fields were filling the coffers of the plantation princes. The few citizens who remained had evidently not lost their hope of the ultimate success of the South; for Confederate paper was worth half as much as greenbacks.

Sunday afternoon, Feb. 15, the Louisiana Belle arrived at Plaquemine, having on board Gen. Emory and staff; and she was soon followed by another boat, with the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York, and Col. Ingraham and staff. A gun-boat started with them, but broke down on the way, and put back for repairs. A portion of the Thirty Eighth being on the upper deck of the transport, and exposed to the weather, quarters were procured for Cos. C and F in unoccupied houses on shore. It was after dark when they landed, and raining hard. The mud was knee-deep in the streets, and the night pitchy dark. After floundering along for half an hour or more, it turned out that the guide had lost his way, and the two companies had to countermarch, and retrace their steps part of the way. In after times, many a laugh was had over the misfortunes of that night; but, at the time, Mr. Webster and Mr. Worcester would have been astonished at the capabilities of the English language in furnishing expletives. Finally, the house that had been selected for quarters was found; and all except the unlucky guards were soon oblivious of the mishaps of military life. Afterward, several of the remaining companies were transferred to quarters in the town.

The regiment drilled, as usual, at Plaquemine; and the men often wondered when that lazy soldier-life they had heard so much about was going to begin; for, hitherto, with drill, guard-duty, fatigue, and rifle-cleaning, they barely had time to answer their letters from home.

In the meantime, the gun-boat had arrived; and a number of men acquainted with boat-service had been detailed from the regiment, and sent up the Bayou Plaquemine in launches, on a reconnoitring expedition. While awaiting the return of the boats, the sugar-houses in the vicinity were visited, and candy-making became the order of the evenings. In the succeeding months, the molasses-candy expedition was often recalled, and its incidents talked of over the camp and picket fires.

The reconnoitring party returned with the information that the bayou was completely obstructed by piles and immense drifts of logs, and that it would be impossible to force a passage through. In consequence of this report, the troops again embarked, and the transport headed down the river, reaching the landing at Carrollton at six o'clock on the evening of the 19th. In the morning, the march was taken up for Camp Kearney, where everything was found in order, although the camp bore evidence of having been pretty well flooded by the rains of the previous week. A mail had arrived during the absence of the regiment, and it had been sent up the river, to the disappointment of every one. Numerous absurd rumors concerning disaster to the regiment had been brought down the river, and one had found its way into the New Orleans papers, to the effect that nine companies of the Thirty Eighth had been captured. Acting upon this information, the sutler had packed up his wares, and gone to another regiment, concluding that his chances of money-making in the Thirty Eighth were at an end.

Immediately upon arriving in camp again, the tents were struck, and the floors taken up, that the sun might dry up the dampness. On Sunday, Feb. 22, divine service was performed in the camp by Col. Ingraham, the band, and a select choir from the ranks, assisting; and the day was further honored by the firing of a national salute from Camp Parapet.

On the 26th, by the advice of the surgeon, the regiment were to have "a rest, not more than three hundred men having come out the day before for battalion drill;" but in the afternoon, however, an order came from brigade head-quarters for the regiment to have skirmish drill. Capt. Rundlet, being in command at the time, deployed the left wing as skirmishers, drilling them especially in the movement of "lying down;" the right wing, in the meantime, remaining in reserve. This order did not increase the popularity of the brigade commander. On the last day of the month, the regiment was again mustered for pay. On that day, also, a number of boxes reached camp, which had been sent to the regiment when at Fortress Monroe. They had been intended for Thanksgiving, but did not reach their destination until the fleet had sailed; and three months' confinement had reduced the turkeys and chickens to skeletons, and the puddings and pies had not increased in flavor.

During the month, the regiment lost several valuable members from disease. On the 3d, Orderly Sergt. Samuel J. Gore, of Co. E, died of typhoid fever, and was buried under arms; and on the 4th, Sergt. Charles A. Howard, of Co. A, died of the same disease. Sergt. Howard received a commission as lieutenant in another regiment a day or two before he died. On the 3d of March, the Sergeant-major, Walter W. Nourse, added another to the list from this fatal disease. Sergt. Nourse came out as 1st Sergt. of Co. F, and was the pet of that company, as well as a favorite with the whole regiment. Resolutions expressive of their sympathy were forwarded by Co. F to his bereaved friends; and they also testified their respect for their comrade, by having his body embalmed, and sent home, where imposing funeral obsequies took place upon its arrival, and touching tributes to his memory were published in the newspapers.

During the first week in March, a regimental well was dug; and marching orders were at once expected, for, hitherto, these events had followed each other in close order; and the rule was not now to be broken. On the 4th, the cooks had orders to cook rations. The next day, drill was dispensed with, and orders were issued to pack knapsacks, and be ready to move at a moment's notice. Somewhat experienced in marching orders, the men made themselves quite easy over it, not expecting to get away for several days. Consequently, they were taken completely by surprise to hear the "assembly" just after dark, followed immediately by the "orderly's call" and the "officers' call;" and there was quite a hubbub in the camp. At first, there was supposed to be trouble in New Orleans; and the men were elated at the prospect of having something to do. That morning, one company had brought out but twenty-eight men for drill,--thirty-five reporting sick, and a number being detailed,--but, in a few minutes after the assembly was heard, sixty men were in line, equipped for active service; and the same spirit was shown in all the other companies. It was soon learned that the duty to be performed was near home, and was not relished so well. There had been some trouble in the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New York; the men refusing to go on the campaign until they were paid, they not having received any money since their enlistment. Their camp was surrounded by the other regiments of the brigade with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets; but, after a short address from the brigade commander, the men of the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth returned to duty, and the Thirty Eighth and the other regiments were released from their unpleasant task.

The next morning opened with a drizzling rain. At noon, orders were given to strike the tents on one side of the company streets, and put the knapsacks in those of the other side; and this was barely done, when the rain began to pour in torrents, and continued to do so for the remainder of the day. Three days' rations were put in the haversacks, and all the regimental baggage packed. The One Hundred and Seventy Fifth had started in the morning; and the Fifty Third broke camp in the midst of the rain, and marched to the levee; but the Thirty Eighth lingered until evening, when orders came to strike all the remaining tents, and take the baggage to the cars, which passed near the camp. The mud grew deeper and deeper, as the men wallowed through it; and, as the night was very dark, it was a difficult task to keep in the track. A large detail had been sent to store the baggage on board of the transports, and there were so many on the sick-list that it took the remainder nearly all night to load the cars. The few hours before morning were spent around the camp-fires; and, at sunrise, the regiment marched to the levee, stacked arms on the sidewalk opposite, and proceeded to put the remainder of the baggage, quartermaster's stores, &c., on board of the St. Mary's. It was a very carnival of mud; and soon every one was coated with it. About noon, the regiment embarked; and tired, sleepy, muddy, and packed like sardines, the men coiled themselves up in all shapes, and slept soundly in the hot sun. The boat arrived at Baton Rouge the next morning, and found the river full of gun-boats, mortar-boats, and transports; and signs that the campaign was about to open were everywhere apparent. Landing on the levee, the Thirty Eighth marched through the streets of the old capital of Louisiana to the Theatre Building, where they were quartered. Although the climate and the unwholesome water had begun to do its work, the regiment was still comparatively strong, some companies taking near seventy men into the field; and the long rows of stacked muskets on the floor of the Theatre had a martial look, and spoke of work in the future.

Baton Rouge--Review by General Banks--March on Port Hudson--Passage of the Batteries by Hartford and Albatross--Burning of the Mississippi--Return to Baton Rouge--Wood-chopping--Embark for Algiers--Easter Incident--Take Cars for Brashear--Berwick City.

Baton Rouge was alive with troops, belonging to every branch of the service. Staff-officers and orderlies were galloping through the town; quartermasters and commissaries were full of business; and flags were waving continually from the signal-towers. A few citizens were to be seen in the streets, grim and sullen; but they were almost lost amid the blue-coats. The Thirty Eighth had orders to pack their dress-coats, and all other articles except blankets, overcoats, and a change of clothing. Old soldiers may smile at this idea of "light-marching order;" but the men had not yet learned how little baggage was necessary for comfort and health.

Wednesday, March 11, the iron-clad Essex, so famous in the annals of Mississippi warfare, arrived at Baton Rouge, and was inspected with much interest by the troops. This boat was the wonder and delight of the contraband population; and amusing stories were told of the effect produced upon both black and white Southerners, when she first made her appearance before the city. Another examination was made in the division now, and the sick men, and those unable to endure the fatigue of field service, were sent to the hospital, and the command stripped to its marching and fighting material.

Shelter-tents were issued on the 11th; and during the first march, everybody carried tent-pins, with which to pitch them; and this in a densely wooded country. The Thirty Eighth were proficient in the manual of arms, and could go through battalion movements creditably; but they were not yet soldiers. On the 12th, the division was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory, accompanied by a large and brilliant staff, Admiral Farragut being present, and the centre of attraction. Although the knapsacks had been reduced somewhat, the addition of the shelter-tents, and twenty extra rounds of cartridges, made the load fall heavy enough to be on the back from eight in the morning till one in the afternoon, when the review closed. The force on the field consisted of thirteen regiments of infantry, three batteries, and several companies of cavalry; and the review took place on the old battle-field of Baton Rouge, near the spot where Gen. Williams was killed, the marks of the bullets then fired being still visible on the trees and fence-posts.

While at Baton Rouge, an order was issued by Gen. Banks, very complimentary to the Thirty Eighth. After a severe rebuke of the manner in which the officers of certain regiments had performed their duties, as shown by the reports of the Inspector-General, the order went on to say: "The Commanding General cannot forbear pointing to the marked contrast indicated in the same reports concerning the condition of the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts and the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York Volunteers, enlisted at about the same time; but carried, by the zeal and laudable ambition of their officers, beyond the reach of this pernicious influence."

Although very flattering to officers and men, it was afterward thought that this order did not contribute much to the comfort of the regiment when under the control of brigade officers whose own commands were thus unfavorably contrasted with it. At six o'clock, on the evening of the 13th, orders came to fall in; and the line was formed in front of the Theatre. Being on the left, the Thirty Eighth remained in line while the division moved by; and cheers were exchanged, as the various regiments which had been connected with the Thirty Eighth passed, the One Hundred and Sixteenth being loudly greeted. When the time came for the regiment to move, Gen. Dudley, whose quarters were opposite, addressed it in a few words, concluding with, "Men of the Thirty Eighth, keep cool, obey orders, and fire low."

At daylight, the march was resumed. The day proved to be a hot one; and the roadside was soon strown with blankets, overcoats, knapsacks, and other articles thrown away by the regiments in advance. It was apparent that the army was rapidly coming down to light-marching order. Contrabands hung on the flank and rear, picking up the cast-off garments. Some of the men, not yet having made up their minds to part with their overcoats, cut off the sleeves and skirts to lighten their loads. After marching about eleven miles, the column halted and went into camp in a cane-field, and stacked arms, a picket being thrown out. The sun came down hot, and the shelter-tents were found to be convenient. Toward night, the sound of heavy guns was heard in the vicinity of Port Hudson, and the cannonading continued through the night, while the shells from the gun-boats could be plainly seen bursting over the fort. The reveill? was beaten at four o'clock. The firing at Port Hudson had ceased; but a large mass of flame, which had been supposed to be some portion of the enemy's works, set on fire by the guns from the fleet, began to move slowly down the river, accompanied, at intervals, by explosions. All eyes were fixed on the mysterious light, and many gloomy forebodings indulged in. Had Farragut been defeated, and the fleet been destroyed by some infernal machine? Or was this one of the marine abortions of the enemy, committing suicide? Suddenly, at daylight, the mass of fire seemed to leap high in the air, followed by a dense column of smoke. The spectators waited in breathless suspense, for a few seconds, for the explosion. Soon it came; and then every sleeper started to his feet. Orders were issued to put out all fires, and for every one to be equipped, and ready for action at a moment's notice. It was the general opinion that there would be a brush with the enemy, if not a pitched battle; and the men were quiet, but determined. But the morning wore away without an alarm; and, at ten o'clock, the line was formed, and the column headed for Baton Rouge, in which direction the wagon-train had already moved. The troops were in ill-humor, the whole movement seeming incomprehensible to them. Soon an aide from the commander-in-chief rode up to Col. Gooding with an order, requesting him to announce to the third brigade that the "Hartford" and the "Albatross" had passed the batteries of Port Hudson, and that "the object of the expedition had been accomplished." Gradually, the men recovered their accustomed spirits; and when Gen. Banks rode by the column he was heartily cheered. On the march back, the carcasses in the fields showed that the reserve brigade had been "living on the country." The pontoon bridge was reached before night, but was not crossed, the brigade marching into the woods near the road, where they stacked arms and pitched tents. Soon after dark, it began to rain heavily, and the camping-ground became a swamp, while the water came through the new shelters, leaving few dry soldiers in camp that night. The next day, at noon, another expedition was undertaken. The roads were in a bad condition, and, in many places, it was necessary to go in single file, to escape being mired. After a four-mile march, a halt was made in a clearing, where the command remained during the night, ready to spring to arms at a moment's notice, and, the next day, marched back to the bayou.

Friday, the line was again formed, and the brigade marched into Baton Rouge, and through the city to a magnolia grove, a mile beyond. The place was alive with mosquitoes, wood-ticks, and similar insects, and the nimble lizards glided about, making themselves familiar; but the men were too weary to study natural history, and were soon sleeping soundly, in spite of such annoyances. The next day was devoted to bathing, washing clothes, and resting. On Sunday morning , the regiment started again; and, after marching through all the swamps, cane-fields, and hedges, bounding that part of the town, halted in one of the most forbidding looking spots in Baton Rouge, about a mile from the river, near the "Perkins Road." A camp was laid out, company streets staked off, and fatigue parties detailed to clear away the rubbish, dig up the stumps, and fill the bog-holes. The tents were pitched just in time to afford partial shelter from a rain-storm. The men at this time had the impression that Sunday was the day especially selected in the Nineteenth Army Corps, on which to begin new movements, or do extra fatigue duty. In a day or two, the regimental and company baggage that had been packed was returned, and the A tents again pitched.

Saturday, March 29th, the regiment took its turn at chopping down the forests in the vicinity of Baton Rouge, so that the guns from the fort might have a free range, in case of an attack from the enemy. Some could use the axe professionally; and all tried their hands on the lofty oaks, beeches, and magnolias, whose fall resounded through the forest, until the sound of the recall, at four o'clock, when the regiment returned to camp, tired, but in great good-humor. Drill was resumed, and the old routine of camp duties began; but this did not last long, however; for the first day of April found the regiment on board of a transport, again steaming down the Mississippi. Landing at Algiers , a new camp was laid out, the tents again pitched, and drilling went on as usual. Regiments continued to arrive every day; and soon the plains of Algiers were white with the tents of Emory's division.

Here, for the first time since its organization, the regimental camp-guard was dispensed with, and the men allowed a little liberty to look around, and see the country they were fighting for. That they did not abuse the confidence thus reposed in them by their officers, may be inferred from the fact, that no regimental guard was placed around the Thirty Eighth after that time; and when other regiments were confined to strict camp-limits, Lieut.-Col. Richardson allowed his command, when off duty, to roam anywhere within sound of the bugle, and, when stationed near a town or city, freely gave leave of absence when it did not conflict with orders from higher authorities.

At this time, the Forty Seventh Massachusetts was doing garrison duty in New Orleans, and, having many acquaintances in the Thirty Eighth, visited them often. The contrast between the nicely-fitting, home-made uniforms of the Forty Seventh boys, and the shoddy affairs furnished by the contractors to the Thirty Eighth, was a source of much amusement to the members of the latter regiment. In the field, clothing was a matter of little importance; but when a haversack strap or a knapsack buckle broke at the beginning of a long march, or the sole came off a shoe at a slight stumble, which very often happened, the comments on the patriotism of those who provided for the wants of the army were more expressive than elegant.

Although New Orleans and Algiers had been in the Union hands for over a year, the feeling was still bitter toward the North. The following incident will illustrate this feeling. The day before Easter, the writer of this sketch had a few hours of leisure, and was strolling through the streets looking at the objects of interest, when, passing a small church, the sound of Easter hymns floated out on the air. Not having been inside of a church for many months, the sweet music brought memories of home to the mind; and, stepping noiselessly inside, he stood near the door, listening respectfully. The choir was engaged in a rehearsal, under the direction of a gentleman whose white cravat and clerical air bespoke the minister. Suddenly, the singers caught sight of the blue uniform, and the music instantly ceased. Upon following the direction of their glances, the clergyman cast what he evidently intended to be a withering look on the unwelcome spectator. A silence of a few moments ensued, when the soldier asked if he was intruding. "Yes," was the reply, in a very curt tone. Apologizing for the unintentional intrusion, the visitor retreated, followed to the door by the chivalrous clergyman, who probably took precautions to prevent his choir from being shocked by the presence of any more blue uniforms, while singing the anthems of "Peace on earth, and good will to men."

Labor being scarce in Algiers, several regiments were called upon to furnish fatigue parties to assist in raising a gun-boat on the ways in the dry-dock; and, on the 8th of April, the Thirty Eighth took their turn, and completed the task.

The regimental baggage was again packed away; and all personal property, with the exception of a rubber blanket, overcoat, and change of clothing to each man, was packed in the knapsacks, and nailed up in large boxes; and at two o'clock, on the morning of the 9th, the reveill? woke the sleeping camp, the tents were struck, and, by seven o'clock, the regiment was on board of the cars, bound for the interior of Louisiana. For eighty miles, the road ran through a low, swampy country. The ditches beside the embankment on which the track was laid were full of alligators, who swam lazily through the green, stagnant waters, or basked in the sun on the banks; nearly every floating log or stick was tenanted by a repulsive water-moccasin; and frogs of huge proportions plumped into the water as the train went by. These specimens of the animate life of Louisiana were regarded with much interest by the regiment, as they were to be intimate neighbors, possibly, in the future.

The line of road was guarded by New York and Connecticut regiments; and their post did not appear to be an enviable one. A little after noon, the train arrived at Brashear City. The place was full of troops; and others were continually arriving in the cars or on foot, and crossing the bay to Berwick City. The Thirty Eighth formed in line, the sick-call was blown, and another examination held; and all those who were considered unable to keep up with the column were kept behind, to do light guard-duty. Some who had been foremost in every duty were left here, much to their regret. After waiting for an hour or two, the regiment embarked on the gun-boat "Clinton," and was transported across Berwick Bay to Berwick City, accompanied by Gen. Banks and staff, and the shelter-tents pitched in a level field, where the clover was ankle-deep. A large force was collected here, the troops of Emory's division being joined to the veterans of Weitzel, who had already achieved victory in this vicinity.

On the March again--Co. F Detached to guard Bridge--Centreville--Battle of Bisland--Pursuit of the enemy--Franklin--District of the T?che--Neutral Flags--A Day's Rest--Fording a Bayou--Opelousas.

On the 11th of April, the division broke camp, and moved out on the main road toward Centreville; the gun-boats shelling the woods from the bayou, and the cavalry scouting in advance. Co. F was detached, and ordered to remain behind to guard a bridge on the line of the railroad, to prevent raids on the rear, while the army moved on.

The rebels were reported to be in large force near Pattersonville, under the command of Gen. Dick Taylor, determined to stop the advance of the Union troops through this portion of the Confederacy; and they were reported to have erected strong fortifications at Camp Bisland.

After a dusty march over the turnpike, feeling its way along, the army went into camp beyond Pattersonville; and soon the camp-fires were blazing for miles around, lighting up the country, and giving the enemy warning of the approach of the Union forces.

Co. F remained in its position, crouching behind the brakes, and occasionally throwing sticks at the alligators in the ditches, and all the while keeping a sharp look-out for the rebel pickets ahead, until four o'clock, when it crossed the bridge, and struck out for the army. Just beyond the bridge, a letter was picked up, addressed to a woman in Texas, and bearing Confederate postage-stamps. It purported to have been written on picket that day, and gave a statement of the number of Confederate troops in the vicinity, with some account of the movements of the Union forces. It was well written, but had probably been dropped on purpose, with the intention of misleading. Night found the company marching through the woods, the rebel picket-posts by the roadside giving evidence of having been occupied quite recently. No one in the company was acquainted with the road; and the chances were even of bringing up in either camp; but the orders were peremptory to join the regiment in the evening. After a march of several hours, sometimes by the flank, sometimes in single file, through ditches, hedges, and swamps, the camp-fires of an army appeared in sight. Doubtful whether it were friend or foe, Captain Rundlet sent out reconnoiterers, who soon ascertained that all was right, and the company marched into the camp of the Second Rhode Island Cavalry. The regiment was a mile further on, encamped in a cane-field, beyond Pattersonville.

The owner of the plantation had fled; but many of the negroes still remained, and were soon at work making corn-cakes for the soldiers, out of massa's meal.

About noon, the army advanced in line of battle. The march was through a cane-field, the canes still standing; and, as they grew thick and strong, it became difficult to keep a proper line. The batteries were moving up to the front, shelling the woods as they advanced; and a rifle-shot would be occasionally heard. After marching in this manner for two miles, the regiment halted for several hours, the cannonading still continuing. Between three and four o'clock, it was announced that the fighting was over for the day, and the march was resumed; but it was suddenly stopped by the breaking out afresh of the artillery fire. Laying on the ground, in cover of the standing cane, the regiment witnessed a sharp artillery engagement. A large sugar-mill had been set on fire, and the flames soon spread to the surrounding cabins. The bursting of the shells, the volumes of flame and smoke issuing from the mill, the sharp crack of the rifle, the galloping of aides over the field with orders, and the bayonets glistening over the tops of the canes, as the brigades manoeuvred over the field, was a new experience to the Thirty Eighth. The firing lasted about an hour, gradually ceasing as the batteries fell back; the position of the enemy having been ascertained, and the object of the reconnoissance accomplished. Fires were not allowed, and the men went without their coffee for the first time. Equipments were kept on, and the regiment bivouacked in rear of the stacks. In the evening, a call was made for sharpshooters, to pick off the gunners of the Diana, in case she should come down the bayou; and the number required reported at once. There was no alarm during the night; and, in the morning, the army again moved forward. A bridge had been thrown across the bayou; and the third brigade crossed over, a rebel shell occasionally dropping into the water, near the bridge, sending up the spray, and facilitating the passage of the troops, who wished to do their fighting on firmer footing than the swaying bridge afforded. The artillery were at work on both sides, and it was evident that the long-expected battle was about to take place. While the brigade was getting into line, after having crossed the stream, Gens. Banks and Emory passed, and were enthusiastically greeted. Marching up the road, the brigade filed into a cane-field, in front of a portion of the rebel works. The Thirty First Massachusetts were in advance, the Thirty Eighth following, with the Fifty Third Massachusetts in the rear; and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York were sent toward the woods on the right. The cane-field was intersected with broad, deep ditches, now entirely dry, and their sides lined with blackberry bushes. The Thirty First deployed, and moved forward in a skirmish-line part way across the field, until within gunshot of the enemy, when they halted in one of the ditches, and began to fire, the rebels occasionally returning the shots, from behind the breastworks. The Thirty First retained their position during the forenoon, losing two or three men, who were carried to the rear past the Thirty Eighth, which remained in reserve, picking blackberries, watching the fight, and getting their ears accustomed to the shrieking of the shells, and the discharges of musketry. The One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, in the meantime, were gradually working their way into the woods on the right flank. The heavy firing on the left of the bayou told that the other brigades were also at work.

While Gen. Emory's division and Weitzel's brigade were confronting the enemy, and engaging their attention, Gen. Grover's division, which had crossed the country through the La Fourche district, was endeavoring to come in their rear, and thus, by enclosing them between the two portions of the army, cut off all retreat, and compel the surrender of the entire force. Having this programme in view, it had not been the policy of Gen. Banks to bring on a decisive engagement until Grover was ready to "close up the bag."

The battle lasted all day on both sides of the bayou. As evening drew near, the ammunition of the Thirty Eighth gave out. Many men had fired all their cartridges, and were trying to borrow from their more economical comrades. The wounded had been taken to the rear, and attended to in the field hospital. And now the Fifty Third came forward, and relieved the Thirty Eighth, who fell slowly back under fire, till they reached the place selected as quarters for the night,--a deep, dry ditch, near the centre of the field. Of course, no fires were allowed, and supper was made of hard-tack and water.

Partly filling the ditch with dry canes, and wrapping their blankets around them, with the guns of the First Maine Battery beating the tattoo a few yards in their rear, the men laid down, their rifles by their side, and their equipments on, ready to fall in line at the first call. Contrary to expectation, there was no alarm during the night. In the morning, a portion of the field was searched for missing men. Thomas W. Hevey, of Co. I, was brought in, dead, the stem of his pipe firmly fixed in his teeth. He was smoking when struck by the fatal bullet, and fell on his face. During the engagement, six had been killed and thirty wounded, a complete list of whom will be found in another portion of the work.

Fires were now allowed to be built, and coffee made, after which the regiment moved forward in line. The Fifty Third had remained all night in the front, and its flags were seen near the works, the regiment advancing in line of battle. The Thirty First was also moving on. All was quiet behind the earthworks; and soon the report came that the enemy had evacuated their position during the night, and were in full retreat, three miles ahead. At this time, Gen. Grover was supposed by the men to have cut off all retreat, and the army was in excellent spirits at the anticipated bagging of the whole force; but it was soon learned that a hole had been left, and the slippery foe had wriggled out of it. Crossing the cane-field, the Thirty Eighth entered the rebel works. The killed and wounded men had been removed; but the dead horses scattered about gave evidence of the accuracy of the aim of the brigade in this its maiden fight. The camp-fires were still smouldering inside of the works; and the remains of the hasty breakfast of roasted ears of corn gave proof that the rebels had not been long gone. Skirmishing a short distance through the woods beyond the fortifications, and finding no enemy, the line was again formed, and the brigade moved by the flank along the road, until further progress was stopped by a bayou, the bridge over which had been partially burned, and was still smoking. Here an abandoned caisson was fished out of the stream, the first trophy of the victory. The pioneers soon repaired the bridge, and the column passed over, and halted a few hours, while the artillery and the wagon-train were brought across.

It was a long, weary march that Gen. Dick Taylor led the Army of the Gulf through this country of bayous and plantations. Had there been a respectable cavalry force in the department, but few of those who fought behind the fortifications of Bisland would have reached Alexandria; but the delay caused in repairing bridges prevented the Union army from coming up with its foes, and the majority of them escaped, although completely demoralized, and deprived of the power of acting on the offensive for several months.

An amusing incident occurred just after the march was resumed. A man, apparently dressed in gray uniform, was seen running across a corn-field, toward the woods. Although many hundred yards off, a number of rifles were instantly levelled at him, and the minies went whistling on their errand. He hesitated for a moment, and then started on again, when another discharge took place, and the dust was seen to fly near the mark. Making frantic signals, he faced about, and came toward the road. A nearer inspection proved him to be a harmless contraband, in the usual plantation suit. The fighting of the day before had given the boys a liking for the sound of their Enfields; and probably every gun in the regiment would have been discharged if the fugitive had not halted. The poor fellow, no doubt, came to the conclusion that the "day of jubilo" had not yet come.

The heat was intense during the day, and the men suffered a good deal from the dust and from thirst, many falling out. But the commanding general wished to give the enemy no time to throw up intrenchments. Barely halting long enough for a hasty lunch at noon, the column pushed on. A little while after dark, the brigade passed through the pretty town of Franklin, and went into camp in a cane-field. No one thought of pitching tents, or of cooking coffee. Eating a few hard-tack, and washing it down with bayou water, each man selected as level a furrow as convenient, spread his rubber, and was soon enjoying a well-earned rest. Just as the men had settled themselves for the night, the commissary sergeant came around with the information that fresh meat was ready. It was left on the ground for the benefit of the plantation hands who swarmed in the rear of the army.

Wednesday morning, April 18, the column moved at six o'clock, the Thirty Eighth on the right of the brigade, making the marching a little easier than on the day before. The country through which the army was now passing, known as the T?che district, was considered the richest part of Louisiana previous to the war. Unable to get their crops to market, the sugar and cotton-houses were filled to overflowing. Large herds of cattle fed in the pastures, and the woods were full of hogs. Nearly all of the able-bodied young men were in the Confederate army; and, at the approach of the Union troops, the old planters fled to the woods in many instances, and hid until the column had passed by. No Northern soldiers had been seen in that country before; and the long lines of infantry, the numerous batteries, and the immense wagon-trains, were a source of never-ending wonder to the crowds of slaves, who flocked to the roadsides and climbed the fences to see Massa Linkum's boys. "Bress de Lord! We'se been lookin' for ye dese twenty years, and ye're come at last!" exclaimed one well-developed old lady, who, clothed in a very short dress, very full pants, and a broad plantation hat, had mounted on a high rail-fence to get a good look at the Yankee soldiers. These poor people had little means with which to gratify their desires to serve those whom they looked upon as friends; yet many of them baked their last mess of meal into corn-cake for the hungry soldiers. The few white men that were seen in this region had the appearance of having just thrown the musket aside, with the intention of resuming it again as soon as the army passed, and before the sun-marks should fade from their faces.

On many of the houses, English and French flags were flying; the inmates thinking their property might be more secure by claiming foreign protection. During the entire march, private property was respected to a degree never before shown by an army in an enemy's country; and guards were placed over many of the houses of prominent rebels. It is true that less regard was shown to the occupants of a poorer class of houses; and the immense number of contrabands attached to the Army of the Gulf, in the capacity of officers' servants, were not very scrupulous, and generally came into camp at night pretty well laden with poultry and vegetables; but, as their labor had produced these articles, perhaps they were entitled to them. An indiscriminate liberty to forage would have been fatal to the efficiency of the army, and might have defeated the object of the campaign. Thus, while there was comparatively little foraging carried on, these foreign flags were no safeguard. If an unlucky chicken or pig had happened in the way, he would have been gobbled up, if he had borne the private mark of Victoria or Napoleon.

Thursday night, the army went into camp before dark, beyond the village of Indian Bend. The country hitherto had been perfectly level, and, previous to the war, was mostly devoted to the culture of sugar; but, in accordance with the advice of the Confederate leaders, many of the plantations were now planted with corn.

On Friday, the aspect of the country changed, and rolling prairies succeeded to the low plains. Herds of cattle roamed over these prairies; the view of which caused some lively comments on the starving-out theory indulged in by some of the good people at home. Saturday, April 18, the entire force rested. It had been a full week since leaving Berwick City; and the troops had been marching or fighting continuously, sleeping nearly every night with their equipments on. In addition to this, each regiment furnished its proportion of the picket; and, after a march of from twenty to thirty miles, those detailed had to sling their bundles again, go off half a mile or a mile into the woods, and keep awake part of the night, peering into the darkness, and making their supper of hard-tack and water. It may, perhaps, be imagined how welcome this day of rest was to both man and beast, under these circumstances.

A fine head of cattle was confiscated here; and a large portion of the day spent in feasting. In fact, there was no lack of fresh meat during the entire march through this country; but, as it was brought into camp generally after the men had quartered for the night, little of it was cooked. And then this was the first year in the field, and that experience had not been acquired which makes the difference between raw recruits and veterans.

Sunday morning, the 19th, the army was again in motion. The line was just forming, when the clouds opened, and the rain and hail came down in a manner peculiar to Louisiana. In a few minutes, every one was wet to the skin; and, in this state, a long day's march began. The cavalry and artillery cut up the roads, so that the infantry went into the soft mud to the ankles at every step. During the day, the army marched through the village of Lafayetteville, in which nearly every house had a white rag hung out as a token of peace. These people had heard such stories of the Union army, that they looked upon its approach with terror and apprehension; but the men who enlisted in '61 and '62 were no desperadoes, and did not make war on women and children. That night, the brigade encamped on a piece of grassland, and found it much preferable to the usual cane-field furrows. Starting again in the morning , a wide, shallow stream was reached, which had to be forded. The horses went over first, making numerous holes in the soft bottom; and it was an amusing sight to see the infantry feel their way cautiously along, half sliding, half walking, some unfortunate individual occasionally missing his footing, and plunging headlong into the muddy stream.

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