Roster and Statistical Record of Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers

Roster and Statistical Record of Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers
Albert Maxfield

Robert Brady

Robert Brady, Albert Maxfield

Roster and Statistical Record of Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers / With a Sketch of Its Services in the War of the Rebellion

"Far from over the distance,
The faltering echoes come:
Of the flying blast of bugle
And the rattling roll of drum."

1890

In offering this Sketch, Roster and Statistical Record of the services of Company D in the War of the Rebellion, to its members, we wish to acknowledge the kind assistance given in its preparation by the men of D and of the Eleventh; also of that given by citizen friends in Maine, in tracing the fate of members of the Company who have wandered out of view in the twenty-five years that have passed since they were mustered out; and to acknowledge that of Captain Thomas Clark of the Office of the Adjutant-General of Maine, he having kindly furnished us with valuable and necessary information.

In reading the Sketch, members of D will kindly remember that it is written from one point of view only, and that many things they would like to see in it that are not there, may not have been sufficiently well remembered by the writer, if he ever knew them, to enable him to set them down in a trustworthy manner, and, too, that the limitations of space and the unity of the sketch made it necessary for him to leave out many things that he himself would have been glad to have incorporated in the story he had to tell.

The Roster and Statistical Record is as complete as it has seemed possible to make it. That there are blanks where there should be information is not at all the fault of the compiler, he having sought diligently but unsuccessfully for the information the blank spaces should furnish.

    ALBERT MAXFIELD,
    ROBERT BRADY, Jr.

This Company was formed in the early Fall of 1861. Its members were chiefly from the towns of the upper Penobscot, from Lee, Springfield, Topsfield, Enfield, Prentiss, and contiguous towns; a few from other parts of the State signing the Company rolls at Augusta.

According to its first descriptive list, much the greater number of the original members of D were farmers by occupation at the time of their enlistment, and most of them were young men of from eighteen to twenty-four years of age. And according to the same authority, its voluntary organization consisted of Leonard S. Harvey, Captain; John D. Stanwood, First Lieutenant; Gibson S. Budge, Second Lieutenant; Robert Brady, First Sergeant; with Abner F. Bassett, Jas. W. Noyes, Judson L. Young and Francis M. Johnson as Sergeants; John McDonald, Richard W. Dawe, Ephraim Francis, Hughey G. Rideout, John Sherman, Benjamin Gould, Wm. H. Chamberlain and Freeman R. Dakin as Corporals; Robert A. Strickland, Musician; Henry W. Rider, Wagoner; the rest of the Company, 77 in number, consenting to serve their country as private soldiers.

AUGUSTA AND WASHINGTON

Thus organized, the Company rendezvoused at Augusta, where, October 19, '61, it was mustered into the service of the United States, as Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers.

The regiment started for Washington, November 13, '61, arriving there on the 16th, and the same day pitched its circular Ellis tents on Meridian Hill, back of Washington, naming its camp "Knox," after the hero of the Revolution that Maine claims as her own.

The only really notable event that took place in the several weeks the regiment occupied Camp Knox, was the Battle of the Sand Pits, by which name the quarrel between the men of the Eleventh and those of a United States Cavalry Regiment camped near Camp Knox, is known to the initiated. Whatever the cause of the quarrel, it culminated in an undisciplined rush to arms and a prompt occupation of the disputed sand pits by the more hot headed of the Eleventh. Fortunately no blood was shed before the officers of the two regiments got their men under control. No reputations were lost in this engagement, and but one was made, that of Private Longley, of D Company, who, with characteristic French-Canadian impetuosity slipped a cartridge into the muzzle of his Belgian rifle, bullet end first, effectually spiking the piece.

The Eleventh was here brigaded with the 104th and 52nd Pennsylvania, the 56th and 100th New York Infantry Regiments, Regan's Seventh New York Battery of three inch ordnance guns attached; Colonel W. W. H. Davis, of the 104th Pennsylvania, in command of the Brigade, by reason of seniority of commission.

Soon after this formation, on New Year's Day, 1862, the brigade went into winter quarters in Carver Barracks, on Meridian Hill. Each regiment was domiciled in a dozen or fourteen one-story wooden houses, shell like structures of from fifty to sixty feet in length, twenty-five or thirty in width, and separated from each other by a street of perhaps twenty-five feet in width. The buildings of each regiment bordered one side of a great esplanade, the garrison flag floating from a tall staff in its center, each building laying a gable end to this square, which was common to all for drill and parade purposes.

Here the Winter was passed in perfecting the drill and discipline of the men, the officers gaining their technical military knowledge, book in hand, while imparting the contents to their stalwart pupils. In this way both officers and men practiced assiduously until they could load and fire in a truly military manner; march with mathematical accuracy and wheel geometrically. They also learned to obey orders without demur or question, under penalty of "Death or some worse punishment," as the men would have it the United States Army Regulations, read to them so frequently, provided for about all the offences in the military decalogue, this being their free rendering of the often closing phrase of a paragraph: – "Death, or such other punishment as the sentence of a court martial may inflict."

So far as recollection serves, the men of D were not given to law breaking. There is a remembrance though of Private Bridges standing on the head of a barrel at the head of the company street, a punishment for some now forgotten offense that did not seem to affect Private Bridges' sense of shame to any appreciable degree, he assuring all anxious inquirers that he was stationed in so commanding a position that he might announce the paymaster's anticipated approach from Washington, that all men of D might have timely warning to be on hand to receive their somewhat overdue dollars.

It was a very dull winter. About all the diversions from drill and parade that I recall are a few days on pass spent in wandering through the Capitol and other Government buildings – through the Smithsonian Institute – in visiting the already crowded hospitals – a marching part in the pompous military funeral given General Lander's body – and a dinner party given by D on Washington's Birthday, at which the field and staff of the regiment, the conspicuous guests, paid for their oyster stew and cider in speeches of impassioned eloquence, prophesying such a speedy downfall of the Wicked Rebellion that some of our men were almost inclined to pack their knapsacks before going to sleep, not to run any risk of missing the eastern train in the morning in case the W.R. should fall to pieces during the night.

This seems to be the place to have it recalled by Lieutenant Budge to the men of D who passed the Winter of 1861-62 in these barracks, that he commanded a detail that winter that, under the direction of the Provost Marshal General of Washington, seized and spilled into the gutters of that city some thirty thousand dollars worth of more or less ardent spirits. It would be interesting to have added to these figures a computation of the number of gallons of such fluids spilled by the men of D during its entire military history, spilled from canteens and other fluid receptacles, especially the number of gallons spilled by the re-enlisted men when on their famous furlough in the Winter of 1864.

Life in Washington passed as briefly indicated until March, when preparations were made for moving "On to Richmond." So eager were the men to make this movement, many of them fancying it would bring about an immediate ending of the war, that they chafed at the unavoidable delay that lack of transport service occasioned; Private Leighton, I believe it was, voicing the opinion of many that the delay was pusillanimous, and patriotically declaring for an immediate taking of Richmond and the hanging of Jeff. Davis, that all the farmers of the army might get home in time to attend to their Spring planting. And when there was one false start, the regiment in line, with baggage packed, and all ready for the word of command, then we were ordered back to quarters, there were curses loud and deep, even had been deacons using language that would have shocked the sisters, till the band jocularly struck up "Wait for the wagon and we'll all take a ride," when good nature was restored, proving that music indeed hath soothing charms.

THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN

The afternoon of the 28th of March, the brigade, now the third of General Casey's division of the Fourth Army Corps, General Keyes, commanding, was actually en route for Alexandria; Captain Maxfield's diary says: – "With boots blacked, hands in white gloves and brass shoulder scales on," a campaign guise difficult for the men of '64 to appreciate.

This was a hard march for green troops, unaccustomed to heavy marching order, with more too than the phrase implies, for besides gun, equipments, forty rounds of cartridges, the knapsacks were not only stuffed with the ordinary kits of soldiers, but were laden with the remains of civilian wardrobes and the accumulations of a winter's garrison duty. I think that no man of D ever reached a more welcome camp ground than the one outside of Alexandria that night. And by the time the newly issued shelter tents were buttoned together, were pitched, and the camp fires were lighted, there were many too weary to care for anything but to creep supperless into their tents, wrap their blankets around them and rest their aching bones. In the morning reveille awoke them to see a Spring snow storm, half rain and half snow beating down, followed by a day of discomfort and another night on a wet camp ground, and glad enough the next afternoon, that of March 30th, were all to get on board the transport Constitution, with all its discomforts of wet decks, on which the men must sleep closely crowded together; four regiments of our brigade, the Eleventh, the 56th and the 100th New York, and the 52d Pennsylvania regiments, with Regan's Battery, jamming the five decked Constitution to its utmost capacity.

Proceeding to Fortress Monroe, we were ordered to land at Newport News, to which place we were taken by a smaller steamer, the Constitution drawing too many feet of water to be able to reach the landing place. In steaming across the bay the masts of the sunken war ships could be seen standing above the surface of the water telling of the great Naval combat that so lately took place in this placid water. Soon a puff of smoke rolled out from a rebel battery off Sewell's Point, announcing the coming of the first hostile shot. It fell so far short of our steamer that the tell-tale spray of water its plunge threw into the air was received by us with a yell of derision.

Landing at Newport News the 2d of April, the brigade went into camp, where we remained for a few days owing to lack of wagon transportation. It was here that the men first went on picket. And Captain Maxfield's diary records that there was a rush among them to go on picket duty, probably as great a one as there was in later years to escape such service.

The 6th of April, we proceeded to Young's Mills, where we occupied the log barracks rebel troops had occupied the previous winter. Here the regiment was paid off, and where they had learned it is a mystery, but it did seem as if not only the men of D but those of every company of the regiment were adepts in the mysteries of the national game; for wherever you went through the thick woods surrounding the barracks you would come across groups of men squatting around the tops of hard bread boxes laid on the ground, and hear such mystic phrases as: – "Ante up or leave the board." "It's your deal." "I raise you five cents." "I see you and go you five better." Some of the men wrecked their available fortunes in a few hours at the game, then would borrow a quarter from some friend and regain all they had lost, only to lose it again before night. Such is the see-saw of fortune.

The 17th of April, we rejoined the brigade in position before Lee's Mill, on the creek known as the Warwick River. We took a modest part in the siege of Yorktown. I chiefly remember a reconnoissance in which Company D followed a skirmish line as its reserve.

By company front, trying to keep a perfect alignment, keeping step as if on parade, D crashed through woods and bushes, quite undaunted until a shell came screeching towards them; and as it fell some twenty feet before them, burst in a cloud of smoke and the pieces went flying into the air, our heroes waited with open mouths for half a minute perhaps, certainly quite long enough for all danger to have passed, then at one and the same time each and all, as if by a common impulse, threw themselves flat upon the ground, and digging their noses into the soil, lay there for another full half minute before arising to march on their dignified way.

Think of that you men of Morris Island, to whom flying shot and shells became a matter of course, of no more consequence than beans from a bean shooter. But that was your first shell, and 'twas long before you had heard the warning cries of "Jim Island" and "Sullivan," long before those names had become so familiar to you as to have hardened your nerves to comparative indifference.

It was in this reconnoissance that the first man of the regiment was killed, Private Mace, of Company A. As the first man of the regiment killed, his body had a fascination for all of us as it lay in camp, and few of us but were awe struck as we looked upon the waxen face of our comrade, now drained of blood, but yesterday blooming with health and spirits, struck dead in a second as if by a thunderbolt. The only other matter for record here is our being called out early one morning to stand to arms and listen to the attack a portion of the Vermont brigade made on the dam across the Warwick, known as Dam No. 1. Though the charging and the answering yells, the crash of musketry and the booming of cannon came to us, out of danger, but as the crash and uproar of a distant thunder shower, yet it was so suggestive of what was going on in the semi-darkness beyond the intervening woods, that it gave some of us a dread foreboding that the time was really near at hand when we must be active participants in just such bits of the bloody game of war.

We were not in the trenches before Yorktown at any time except as individuals. Then to creeping to the outer works and watching the slow operations of the siege, we much preferred to sit in the interior works and listen to the blood-curdling tales of the so-called California sharpshooters, the butts of whose rifles were notched to their utmost capacity, each notch representing a dead rebel, according to its owner's statement, but as it was estimated that the combined notches on the butts of their rifles outnumbered the entire rebel force under Magruder, it is more probable that they bore quite as much testimony to the mendacious abilities of the story tellers as to their sharp shooting ones.

One fine May morning, that of the 4th, it was known that Magruder had evacuated Yorktown the night before, and under the command of our new brigade commander, Brigadier General Henry M. Naglee, we were in quick pursuit. We crossed the rebel lines at Lee's Mills, which fortified position we gallantly carried without loss in the absence of the flying enemy.

As the different commands of our army moved forward, they converged on the road leading from Yorktown to Williamsburg with the result that this road was soon packed with horse, foot and artillery, all pushing eagerly forward, and without overmuch regards for right of way.

Company D, holding the right of the regiment, was a pleased auditor to a little conversation between Colonel Caldwell and the irate commander of a regiment the Eleventh had unceremoniously displaced. The displaced commander was evidently, by manner and seat in the saddle, a regular officer, which then meant among other things, an officer with large ideas of his own importance as a trained military man, and small ones of all volunteer officers.

"Sir," roared he, riding up to Colonel Caldwell, "How dare you march across the head of my command?"

The Colonel looked at him in his large placid way, without answering him, much as a mastiff looks at a snarling terrier.

"Do you know who I am, sir?" yelled the angry commander, now doubly enraged at the elaborate indifference, and the apparently studied silence of our Colonel. "I am Major so-and-so of such and such a regiment."

"And I," answered Colonel Caldwell, smiling blandly, touching his cap with military courtesy as he spoke, "And I am Colonel John C. Caldwell, commanding the Eleventh Maine Regiment of Infantry Volunteers, and am quite at your service, sir."

Speechless with rage, and fairly gasping at the haw-haw of approval we country bumpkins gave the Colonel's answer, Major so-and-so backed his horse a little, turned him, and galloped away in as furious a state of mind as any gallant Major ever galloped in.

This bright May day was spent by the infantry in marching and halting while the cavalry pressed forward on the heels of the flying enemy. Towards night the regiments went into bivouac. Then the men scattered for foraging purposes. The inhabitants had mainly fled to Richmond, perhaps naturally, they consisting of women, children and male antiquities generally, McClellan's report stating that every able bodied male of the Peninsula was in the ranks of the rebel army.

They went hastily, evidently. I remember one house from which the occupants had fled just as they were about to seat themselves to a meal apparently, for the table was spread with dishes and untouched victuals. Loading themselves with food and furniture from these deserted houses, the boys returned to camp.

My particular group of D slept that night on a feather bed, spread on the ground, with sheets, quilts, pillows – all the accompaniments. But, alas, it began to rain heavily in the night, so that before morning our downy nest of the evening before was about as comfortable a sleeping place as a bed-tick filled with mush and milk would be – a soaked, oozing, nasty mess.

In the morning we pushed forward in a heavy rain over roads cut up by artillery wheels and punched full of holes by the hoofs of innumerable horses. We could soon hear the battle of Williamsburg progressing in front as we, wet to the skin, plodded on our miserable way. Towards night, General McClellan ordered General Naglee to push forward and reinforce General Hancock, who was reported as heavily pressed. We moved forward rapidly and zealously, but before we could reach Hancock, that brilliant commander had, by feigning a retreat, led the opposing enemy from their intrenchments into the open field, where with a few heavy volleys he stopped them, then charging with the bayonet, routed and dispersed their column, capturing some five hundred of it.

We arrived only in time to witness the overthrow of the enemy, and to give the victors generous cheers of congratulations. Taking position in line, we stood to our arms through a cold, wet night, entirely without fire, and almost without food, our nearly empty haversacks furnishing us with a very scanty supper. It was a night to remember.

But in the morning, the dreaded morning, when all that long line of earthworks, beyond which lay the old city of Williamsburg, must be carried; in the morning our chilled blood was not only warmed by a brilliant sun, but by the knowledge that the Confederates had evacuated these intrenchments too, and were still falling back towards Richmond.