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In preparing this sketch of the 149th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, the author has depended upon the memory of events that made a lasting impression upon a young mind. He does not claim to have written a full history of this service, that is stored in the memories and experiences of the different members of the Regiment. He does claim, however, that the main facts and movements of the Regiment and the other bodies of troops associated with it in the field, are accurate.

The writer was fortunate in making a record of dates and incidents, soon after his return, which record has been invaluable in the preparation of this sketch.

If the little booklet will be interesting to my comrades, or of any value in a historical way, I shall feel amply repaid for the labor in preparing it.

This book is dedicated to the memory of our beloved Colonel Allison L. Brown. A brave soldier, a Christian gentleman, and a good friend of every member of his Regiment. He died as he had lived, in the good esteem of the community, and the love of his comrades.

Col. Allison L. Brown

(from a war time photograph)

Enlisted as a private in Co. C 73d O. V. I., promoted to Sergeant; resigned for promotion; recruited a company for the 89th O. V. I.; commissioned Captain of Co. D 89th O. V. I.; resigned on account of ill health. Elected Colonel of the 2d Ross County Militia Regiment, afterward the 27th Regiment, Ohio National Guard. Commissioned Colonel of the 149th O. V. I.; elected State Senator in 1875, served four years; re-elected in 1879. Died October 26th, 1879.

Colonel Ally.

Captain W. W. Peabody

Captain of Company A 149th O. V. I.; commander of the garrison of Fort No. 1, Baltimore, Md.; Major on the staff of Brigadier General John C. Kenley, commanding the Independent Brigade of the Eighth Army Corps.

Our Captain “Billy”
Died October 14th, 1910

The winter of 1863–4 on the banks of the Rapidan was passed in preparation by both Grant and Lee’s armies for that wrestle of giants that was to begin in May in the wilderness and end at Appomattox in the following April.

In the southwest Sherman had won Missionary Ridge and Chicamauga and was getting ready for his Atlanta campaign, and a great force was doing garrison duty at various points. General Grant told the President that if he could have thirty thousand new men to relieve the veterans, he could capture Richmond and push the war to an end during the summer. This was a difficult proposition on account of resistance to the draft, and the vigorous activity of the Knights of the Golden Circle and the copperheads in the North.

President Lincoln, however, acting on the suggestion, called to Washington for conference the loyal Governors of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Iowa. At this meeting Governor John Brough of Ohio said he would furnish thirty thousand men to serve for one hundred days. Governor Morton of Indiana promised twenty-five thousand. Governor Yates of Illinois twenty thousand, and Stone of Iowa, ten thousand. Governor Brough returned to Ohio, and at once began active work.

On April 23d he issued general order No. 12 calling the National Guard of Ohio into active service for one hundred days, unless sooner discharged, to rendezvous on Monday, May 2d, 14and to report on that day the number of men present for duty. This call was responded to with alacrity, reports coming in showing thirty-two thousand present. The 27th Regiment of Ross County reported five hundred and ninety-six men.

This Regiment had been organized under a law passed in 1863, forming the Militia into volunteer Companies and Regiments. The 27th was enrolled with the following roster of officers: Colonel, Allison L. Brown; Lt. Col., James H. Haynes; Major, Ebenezer Rozelle; Adjutant, Robert Larrimore; Quartermaster, D. C. Anderson.

The North had suffered an enormous drain upon her resources, had seen her men sent home from the front, suffering from disease and wounds, pitiful survivors of battles in which thousands had gone down to death. The romance and glamor of war had gone, the horror of it remained. There was scarcely a family in the North who did not suffer sorrow that cannot be described, hardly a fireside that did not mourn for a husband or lover, brother or friend, who went forth with pride, never to return. Under such circumstances the men of the hundred days service, knowing just what to expect, hastily arranged their affairs, and from the stores, work-shops and farms, flocked to the defence of their country in the hour of its direst need.

On Wednesday, May 4th, the 27th Regiment O. N. G. reported at Camp Dennison. It was a cold, disagreeable day. Snow fell that afternoon, a day on which men would rather have remained by their own fireside, but a firm determination of duty urged them on.

It was found necessary now to have a reconstruction of the Regiments and Battalions. The 15eight companies of the 27th were by consolidation reduced to seven. Three companies of the 55th Battalion from Clinton County were added, making ten companies. By orders, the Lieut. Colonel and Adjutant were relieved, and returned to their homes. The Regiment entered the United States service as the 149th Ohio Volunteer Infantry.

In the organization of the National Guard, it was generally understood that it was for state service only. The call for active service came at a time when to go entailed great personal sacrifice of business interests on the part of its members. Farmers with scarcity of help, turned over their work to their wives, who in this time of emergency proved themselves helpmeets indeed, carrying the business of the season thru. A few of the members of the Guard were discontented, and by the help of Southern sympathizers, endeavored to fan this sentiment into a flame, and to induce the men to refuse to enter the service. However, to the credit of the men, after an address, delivered by Governor Brough at Camp Dennison, only one Company of the Guard refused to go, and they were promptly and dishonorably mustered out. The officers of the 149th O. V. I. as re-organized were as follows: Colonel, Allison L. Brown; Lieut. Colonel, Owen West; Major, E. Rozelle; Adjutant, T. Q. Hildebrant; Q. M., D. C. Anderson; Surgeon, W. A. Brown; Assistant Surgeon, B. F. Miesse; Chaplain, W. Morris. Non-commissioned staff: Sgt. Major, George L. Wolfe; Quartermaster Sgt., Austin H. Brown; Commissary Sgt., Edward F. Beall; Hospital Steward, James F. Sproat.

From May 4th until the 11th the Regiment remained at Camp Dennison, during which time they were uniformed, armed and equipped, and 16mustered into the United States service. On the night of May 11th orders came for the Regiment to report to Gen. Lew Wallace at Baltimore, Md., going by way of Columbus and Pittsburg. We started at midnight, being crowded into box cars, without a seat or bed except the floor. We rode in this manner for three days and four nights. Thursday noon found us still south of Xenia, and did not reach Pittsburg until Friday evening. There the Regiment was handsomely received. We marched to a hall where a bountiful supper was provided for us by the loyal ladies of that city. That supper to the tired, hungry soldiers was an event long to be remembered. The good people of Pittsburg fed every Regiment that passed through, going or returning. Early the next morning we passed Altoona, Pa., and the great “Horse Shoe Bend.” At this point one of the brakes on our car dropped to the track as we were descending the steep mountain grade; we could hear it “bump, bump,” on the track, but luckily it held, or the history of the 149th would have ended then and there. Nothing could have prevented the train rolling over the mountain side.

However, the longest ride must have an end. Our train pulled into Baltimore at 3 o’clock Sunday morning. As soon as possible Col. Brown reported to General Wallace, and the Regiment was assigned to duty at several points in the city, relieving the 8th N. Y. Heavy Artillery, Col. Porter commanding. Col. Porter with his command, two thousand strong, immediately left for the front, and after six weeks but seven hundred remained, the Col. and all of his staff being killed.

Companies A and F 149th were assigned to Fort No. 1 on the outskirts of Baltimore, Capt. 17Wm. W. Peabody of Co. A being appointed Garrison Commander.

Between the days of May 4 and 16, 35,982 men, composing forty-one Regiments and one Battalion, were consolidated, organized, mustered, clothed, armed and turned over to the United States military authorities for assignment. The Guard was composed of the most substantial men left in the state, men of every department of trade, and of every profession. Ohio had at that time sent ten per cent of her entire population into the army. What a sacrifice on the altar of the country was this great outburst of patriotism.

Companies A and F settled down to routine garrison duty at Fort No. 1. Cooks were detailed and the men assigned to barracks, Co. A occupying the first floor and Co. F the second. The duties of the day after roll call consisted of dress parade and guard mounting. Guard duty, was by detail, two hours on, and four hours off each being held for duty twenty-four hours. Time was given the men for many trips into the city, and this part of our service was very pleasant and safe. Many of our friends from Ohio came to visit us while we were there and brought money, and good things to eat for the boys. Four Companies of the Regiment were assigned to Fort Federal Hill, and Cos. D, K and I at Headquarters in Baltimore. On May 25th several companies were sent to the eastern shore of Maryland, with Headquarters at Salisbury. They had orders to quell the rebellion sympathizers, and to do Provost guard duty at that point, to guard the telegraph lines and to patrol the Bay for smugglers. The author’s service being with Company A, he is more conversant with the movements of the Regiment in which that Company took part. The memory of it all is 18dim. Like a dream in the night, it is misty and seems to have occurred ages ago. We who were just boys of from fifteen to eighteen years of age at that time, are now the aged and broken veterans, and the youngsters of today look upon us, just as we used to think of the old Revolutionary soldiers, when we were young. But we were having too good a time in Baltimore for it to last. The last opportunity we had to go down town was on the evening of the 4th of July when there was a grand display of fireworks.

About this time we began to hear rumors of Gen. Early’s invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania, and it was reported that he was marching on toward Baltimore. He came within four miles of the city and burned the residence of Governor Bradford. In Baltimore the excitement was intense. The bells of the city on that Sunday morning called the citizens to man the Forts, to dig ditches, and throw up earthworks, instead of the church service, and thousands responded to the all. Lieutenant Runkle of the regulars assumed command at Fort No. 1 and began a rigid drill in heavy artillery, our guns were manned, loaded with shell and sighted at prominent houses, groves, etc., that might give shelter to the enemy. This drill was kept up for two days and nights, the men sleeping at their posts, expecting the ball to open at any moment. But Early withdrew his forces and with haste, again entered the Shenandoah Valley.

On July 1st General Early received orders to invade Maryland and advance on Washington. He began preparations by forcing General Siegel to retreat to Maryland Heights where he was cooped up. Early moved by flank, entered Maryland and advanced to Frederick City. On the 9th of July the battle of Monocacy was fought. We at Fort No. 1 began to see some of 19our soldiers come in from the battle field, among them being Assistant Surgeon Miesse and Chaplain Morris, who stopped at the Fort and gave us an account of the battle. Gen. Wallace had gathered a force of twenty-eight hundred men, consisting of one Maryland Regiment and the rest were hundred days men, among them being the 144th Ohio, and seven companies of the 149th. On the 8th of July a brigade of Ricketts’ Division of the Sixth Corps came up on a train of cars bound for Harper’s Ferry. Wallace informed the Commander “that if he wanted to get to Harper’s Ferry he would have to get the consent of Jubal Early.” He stopped the Brigade and put it in position. During the night Ricketts came up with his other Brigade. He wanted to know what Wallace proposed to do, and was informed that he proposed to fight. Ricketts laughed and said, “with my division and your hundred day men you have only about 6,000. Do you expect to whip Early?” “No,” replied Wallace, “but I propose to make him do two things, develop his strength and whither he is bound.”

If bound for Washington he thought he could delay him at least twenty-four hours, and it would take him two more days to get to Washington, and in that time Grant could get troops from City Point in time to save the Capitol, but without that Early would be in Washington when there was not a man in the entrenchments. Gen. Ricketts agreed with him, and his division was placed. Colonel Brown was ordered to the Stone Bridge over the Monocacy where the Frederick and Baltimore turnpike crosses. His orders were to hold the bridge at all hazards, but if pressed too hard the men were to scatter and save themselves the best they could. The forces under Wallace numbered 5,500, while 20those of Early were 23,000 of the pick of the Confederate Armies.

Long before daylight on July 9th the 149th was in position at the bridge. They did not have to wait long until Early’s troops were seen passing through Frederick, bound for Washington. Then came the tug of war. Gen. Wallace deployed his men as skirmishers and attracted the attention of the enemy, the object being to deceive him as to the numbers opposing him. They held him in check from daylight until late in the afternoon. During the last hour the only force opposing this veteran army of Earlys was the 149th Ohio. At four o’clock in the afternoon Wallace seeing that his army would be either captured or annihilated, ordered a retreat of all but the 149th. This Regiment was to cover the retreat, and to be sacrificed to save the rest of the army. This was shown by the orders sent to Col. Brown, which were as follows:

Major General Wallace directs me to say that he directs that you hold your position to the very last extremity, and, when nothing more can be done, that you fall back, and if pressed, direct your men to disperse and take care of themselves. This is to be done when nothing more can be done to retard the enemy’s progress.

Col. Brown was unaware of the retreat of the rest of the army and was left alone in advance of the stone bridge, beating back the repeated attacks of the enemy until 5:30. At that time a farmer living near informed him of the 21retreat of the whole Union army except his Regiment, and that they were a mile and a half away. So he gave the order to retreat. Adjutant Hildebrand was sent with three companies and deployed as skirmishers on the left. They showed such steadiness that Early stopped to reform his lines, and behind this thin curtain of skirmishers the Regiment cut its way through and escaped to the north and toward Baltimore.

When Col. Brown and his brave little army overtook General Wallace, the latter was much affected. He embraced him, the tears starting from his eyes, and said, “Colonel, I never expected to see you again.”

General Grant in his report says “they saved Washington.” The 149th in this engagement lost 130 men in killed, wounded and prisoners. The performance of the hundred days men was a revelation to the old soldiers, and a surprise to the enemy. They did not know when they were whipped. Everywhere their duty was well performed. On the long forced marches, sometimes hundreds of miles with insufficient rations, suffering from thirst, tramping the dusty roads with blistered feet, it was all done and suffered by the men cheerfully, and as well as by the veterans of long service. I heard one of the men of the 19th Corps say, “We have served for three years but have never seen campaigning like this.” Gen. Tyler in his official report of the battle of Monocacy says:

“It seldom falls to the lot of veterans to be more tried than was the Ohio National Guard at the stone bridge, and none ever carried out trying and hazardous orders better, or with more determined spirit than did 22the 149th Ohio, and the men associated with it.”

The enemy had seized the time when Grant had depleted the defensive forces of the Capitol, to endeavor to capture Washington. Early charged up to the very boundary of the city expecting to find the rich prize an easy prey, but the stubborn resistance of the Guard at Monocacy and their vigilance in the forts at Washington were more than a match for all the vaunted dash and daring of his veterans, and he was compelled to retire before the raw Militia of the Buckeye State. This was a source of deep humiliation to the dashing Rebel General which he never got over to the day of his death. Whether the hundred days man was on the alert in the entrenchments of the capital, battling at the front with the veteran forces of the Confederacy or skirmishing on the lines of supply with the wary foe in the rugged passes of the Alleghanies, they were each in his place doing their duty manfully toward the great and final victory which came a few months later.

Lincoln and Grant both said that the services of the hundred days men shortened the war, and, that the President appreciated their service was shown by his issuing a special card of thanks, a copy of which was sent to every man in this service. This was a special favor from the hand of our great war President, that no other troops received, and one of which we can well be proud. It was a tribute to bravery from the great, noble heart of the kindest soul that ever lived on earth.

Gen. J. B. Gordon of the Confederate army whose division was with Early in the fight at Monocacy, says:

“The battle of Monocacy was short, decisive 23and bloody. While the two armies were contemplating each other from the opposite banks, my division was selected, not to prevent Wallace from driving us out of Maryland, but to drive him from our front. My movement was down the right bank of the Monocacy to a fording place below, the object being to cross the river, and then turn upon the Federal stronghold. My hope and effort were to conceal the movement from Wallace’s watchful eye, until my troops were over, and then to apprise him of my presence on his side of the river, by a sudden rush upon his left flank. But Gen. McClausland’s Cavalry had already attacked a portion of his troops, and he discovered the movement of my division before it could drag itself through the water and up the slippery banks. He at once changed front, and drew up his lines in strong position to meet the assault. This movement presented new difficulties. Instead of finding the Union forces still facing Early’s other divisions beyond the river, giving my isolated command the immense advantage of a flank attack, I found myself separated from all the Confederate infantry, with the bristling front of Wallace’s army before me.

“In addition to this I found other troubles which mitigated against the success of my movement. Across the fields through which we were to advance, there were strong and high farm fences which my men must climb while under fire. Worse still these fields were full of grain stacks so high and close together that no line of battle could be maintained while advancing through them. The movement began, and as my men reached the first line of high fencing and began climbing over, they were met by a tempest of bullets, and many fell at the first volley. They pressed on and around the grain stacks, 24with no possibility of forming allignment or returning effective fire. The men, deprived of the support and strength of a compact line, pushed forward and drove the Federals back to their second line. The Union troops stood firmly in this second position, bravely defending the railroad and highway to Washington. Between the two hostile lines there was a narrow ravine, down which ran a stream of limpid water. In this ravine the fighting was desperate and at close quarters. To and fro the battle swayed across the little stream, the dead and wounded on both sides mingling their blood in its waters, and when the struggle was ended a crimson current ran toward the river. Nearly one-half of my men fell there. Wallace’s army, after the most stubborn resistance, was driven in the direction of Baltimore. The Confederate victory was won at fearful cost, but it was complete, and the way was opened for Gen. Early’s march to Washington.”

On the 12th day of July Companies A and F under marching orders, left Fort No. 1 and Baltimore for Washington City, where we arrived early the next morning. We lay at the depot until ten o’clock, when we were ordered to “fall in” and with the balance of the Regiment marched up Pennsylvania Ave., greeted by the cheers of the crowds who lined the sidewalks and filled the windows of the buildings. We marched past the White House and the Treasury buildings. At the latter we saw President Lincoln on the steps waving his high hat as we marched by. We went over into Georgetown, where, after a short rest, we joined the 19th Corps in the chase of Early, who, after being repulsed at Fort Stephens retreated to the Shenandoah Valley. We marched to Edwards Ferry, 25on the Potomac, which we forded about five o’clock in the evening. Disrobing, we tied our clothes around our guns, and at “right shoulder shift arms” entered the water. It was an amusing sight to look up and across the river, at the boys struggling through the water. It was about waist deep and some current. The rocks on the river bottom were slippery, and every little while a boy would go down, gun, clothes and all under water, to struggle on again amid the cheers and laughter of his comrades. But we finally all crossed over and we were told not to dress until we had forded Goose Creek which entered the Potomac a short distance ahead. Early in his haste to get away had burned some of his wagons on the road, and we, in our bare feet had to pick our way carefully through the ashes, which were still glowing. It was amusing. We camped that night on the banks of Goose Creek. The next morning early the march was resumed and we went into camp at Leesburg, Va., where we rested the balance of the day and night. We were ordered to guard the wagon train, and by easy marches reached Snickers Gap on July 17. Our train was halted about a mile back of the Gap and our Regiment camped on a mountain side.

While resting in the camp on this mountain slope, from which the corn fields stretched away for miles, the army cattle were driven up, the fence bars were let down and the cattle turned in to a large field, beautiful in its waving green product. In one hour’s time that field looked like new ploughed ground, not a green blade was left. The army advanced to the Gap, and in crossing the ford the enemy opened fire upon 26them, and a brisk engagement followed. From our position we could hear the cannon and see the smoke of the battle. This continued until sunset. We were ordered out on picket, and took our posts in the woods, being cautioned to keep a sharp outlook. Our troops began to fall back, and our second sergeant brought in the pickets exclaiming in breathless haste “The army is cut to pieces and in full retreat.”

Of course we hurried back into ranks, drew forty rounds of cartridges, and, guarding the wagon train started on the “double quick” for Washington. This was at nine o’clock at night. We marched without a stop until eight o’clock the next morning, when we halted at Leesburg. That night in passing through burning pine woods the train was fired upon from ambush and some were wounded. During this hard night march the men walked along nearly asleep on their feet, and if there was a temporary halt they dropped in the dusty road, asleep instantly. After a short rest at Leesburg we pushed on and went into camp near “Chain Bridge” at Washington. We arrived at night, completely worn out from our long forced march. The Regiment stacked arms, spread blankets on the ground and lay down to sleep. We lay upon our gum blankets and covered with the woolen ones. During the night it turned quite cool and rained hard. We were soaked through when we awoke in the morning. We started fires, made coffee, ate some hard tack, then wrapping our blankets around us, sat down in the mud to silent meditation. It rained hard until about noon, then began to break away. By night it was clear and we had a good sleep.

The next morning, July 21st, we drew new shoes, formed ranks, crossed the bridge and followed the Sixth Corps who were just breaking 27camp as we came up. We marched through Maryland via Rockville to the battle field of Monocacy, which we passed over. We saw there the signs of the fierce fighting, the high fences full of bullet holes, and the grain stacks that obstructed Gordon’s advance. We forded the river and marched on through Frederick city. Some of the boys of Company A at this point “straggled” and slept in the fields just beyond the town. They came up with the regiment the next day in time to draw rations, and resumed the march until we reached Harper’s Ferry. Somewhere on this march an incident occurred that made an impression upon my mind that I will never forget. I call it

The army had halted at noon for a little rest and dinner. Four of us, comrades, went into the woods in search of berries. Pushing along through the pines we came to a deep valley in which was a little clearing and a small log cabin. A tiny brook flowed down the vale, and the dark pine woods shut in a scene of beauty. It was the home of a negro family, who were all out in front, listening to the banjo played by one of our colored teamsters. He was a fat, oily, good natured fellow, black as ink. Seated on a stump with his eyes rolling in ecstacy and a broad grin showing his ivory teeth, he was an example of the happy, carefree contraband of those days. After listening awhile we passed on and after getting some blackberries we returned the same way. The family were seated at dinner and when we looked in, saw the white table cloth and the dishes, with the family and the banjo player seated around the table, eating, our mouths watered and we wished we could sit with them. Thoughts of home and of our friends, at 28their tables in the distant north, filled our minds as we made our way back to the dusty turnpike and again took up the weary march. This scene was an oasis in our desert of dust, and its memory is pleasant.

While marching one hot, dusty day, a little negro boy, about ten years of age, came out from a farm house and walked along with us, on his road to freedom. After marching awhile he became very thirsty and appealed from one soldier to another for a drink of water. He was refused by several but his thirst increased and he became desperate. Rolling his eyes in agony, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, he exclaimed, “Please sir! for the love of God, Massa, give dis heah poor nigga a drink of water.” We could not withstand such an appeal so we gave him a drink from our canteen. I suppose he became tired and went back home where there was plenty of water, at least we heard no more of him.

We did not see many negroes during our service. They hid away when the army passed. Occasionally we would catch a glimpse of a colored woman peeping from a door or window grinning at us. Two boys came back with us from Virginia. By passing as body servants we brought them through to Chillicothe. One was a black, ignorant fellow, by the name of Henry. He was about town for several years, employed as a hosler. The other was a bright mulatto, intelligent in conversation, but unable to read or write. He was anxious to get an education. We afterward heard of him as a school teacher near Chillicothe.

The negro could always be depended upon to assist Union soldiers in their efforts to escape 29from prison, and they approached their cabins with confidence, knowing that they would give them shelter and share their last morsel of food with him, and guide him along his way. Many a weary, hungry soldier has blessed the memory of his kind benefactors, with black faces and white hearts. This was the experience of our two boys, Cook and Martin, who escaped from Mosby, and has been the experience of hundreds of others, who, escaping from the prison pens of the south with the north star as a guide made their way through rugged mountains and trackless forests, back to “God’s country.”

From Frederick, the army marched on to Harper’s Ferry. Crossing the “Pontoon bridge” we passed through the town and went into camp at Halltown. We reached this camp on July 23d and remained there two days. The Sixth and Nineteenth Corps having passed up the Shenandoah Valley in pursuit of Early. Gen. Crook’s forces engaged Early at Kernstown, but losing heavily, had been forced back to the Potomac. This reverse caused our forces to fall back to Maryland Heights. On July 25th our Regiment “fell in” on the left and began what is known as the terrific “hot march” The sun was blistering, the heat seemed concentrated in the valley, while the dust rising in clouds was suffocating. As we plodded along on this short march of four miles, men could be seen dropping from sunstroke. I saw an officer throw up his hands and fall backward off his horse. Comrades pulled them to the roadside and did what they could for them. It was reported that thirty-five men had suffered sunstroke on that hot afternoon.

We crossed the Potomac and began the ascent of Maryland Heights, arriving at the summit about sunset. The view from the top of the mountain was grand. Tier after tier of blue 30mountains fading away in the distance, while a rebel wagon train moved slowly up the valley, shrouded in a cloud of dust that looked like it was a mile high. That night there came a welcome shower. The next morning we were ordered down and again took up the march back to Monocacy junction. Our Commanding General Kenley made the remark, “the boys were taken to the top of the mountain to see the sun set.” We arrived at the junction in the evening and rested. In the mean time our officers heard of the second invasion of Pennsylvania. General McClausland with a body of Confederate Horse crossed the river and pushed on to Chambersburg where he made a demand upon the citizens for the sum of $500,000, threatening that if it was not paid to burn the place. It was impossible for them to raise this amount of money so he fired the city, reducing it to ashes. This was one of the most cruel, wanton acts of the war, perpetrated upon defenceless citizens. While we were rushing frantically up and down the valley of the Shenandoah trying to find Early, his forces were marching through Pennsylvania marauding at their leisure. At this time Gen. Grant came over from Washington to consult with his Generals in regard to the situation. While standing on the station platform I heard the following conversation between Generals Grant and Hunter. Grant said, “General Hunter, where is the enemy?” Hunter replied, with a tremor in his voice, “I don’t know, General.” At this Grant in anger, exclaimed, “Move your troops back to Harper’s Ferry, cut off his line of retreat and you will find out.”

Orders were immediately given to return to the Ferry and the infantry boarded a freight train and were rushed back to Harper’s Ferry. McClausland in the meantime retired from his 31raid and escaped to the south. We marched to our old camp ground at Halltown, arriving there July 28th. We remained quietly here for two weeks. During this time our boys, taking advantage of a well earned rest, engaged in all kinds of pranks and amusements. We were paid off while here so we had some money. The most striking event occurring here was

Sutlers, driving out from Baltimore, followed in the wake of the paymasters, striking the camps when the boys had money, would sell their wares at very high prices. A sutler drove up to the camp and had a lively trade all day. He was finally ordered to move on by our officers and toward dusk drove off. He was followed in the dark by a squad from the Sixth Corps and three boys of Company A. His outfit was new, with a fine team of horses. He drove along unconscious of danger. As he began to pull up a hill with a high bank of a creek on one side, the soldiers quietly unscrewed the nuts of the axletrees on that side, and horses, wagon and driver rolled over into the creek. That night the camp was full of delicacies, hams, cheeses, cakes, cans of condensed milk, etc., all hidden in convenient bushes. The sutler made a great ado about it but the soldiers were all so innocent when brought before the officers that the sutler could not fix the blame upon any particular ones, so he was advised to return to Baltimore as quickly as possible. He went.

At this time dissatisfaction with Hunter’s policies became acute, and he tendered his resignation. Gen. Grant had for some time been contemplating organizing a new department to be known as the Army of the Shenandoah with Gen. 32Phil. Sheridan at its head. Fears had been felt that Sheridan was too young for such an important position. Grant, however, had confidence that the right man had been found for the place. Accordingly Sheridan was placed in command on August 7th and at once began organizing his army. General Sheridan’s force consisted of the Sixth Corps, one division of the Nineteenth Corps and two divisions from W. Virginia under Crook, with Averell’s and Torbett’s divisions of Cavalry. The Sixth Corps was commanded by Major Gen. Horatio G. Wright, an engineer of high reputation but one of the few engineers who had shown marked competency for a high command in the field. The divisions of this Corps were commanded by those splendid officers, Gens. Geo. W. Getty, David A. Russell and James B. Ricketts. Gen. William H. Emory was in command of the Nineteenth Corps. Brigadier Gen. George Crook commanded the two small divisions which represented the army of West Virginia. Brigadier John C. Kenley’s independent brigade consisted of the 144th and 149th Ohio, the 3d Maryland Infantry, and Alexander’s battery of Light Artillery. It was an imposing army of young men, numbering 30,000 Infantry and 10,000 Cavalry. On the 12th of August Sheridan moved up the valley, passing along the road near our camp. The General and his staff rode at the head of the column. The cavalry came next riding in columns of four, followed by the Sixth and Nineteenth Corps, the army of West Virginia and the Artillery. Our brigade was detailed to guard the wagon train.

The mere statement gives no idea of the magnitude of this force, but when I say that it took an entire day to pass our camp, the Cavalry and Infantry in column of fours, some idea may be had of the grandeur of this army. They 33were moving against Early, for the authorities at Washington had become tired of the harassing raids of the rebels into the north through the Shenandoah, which had almost become “the valley of humiliation” to them. Our brigade was distributed through the length of the train, each company in charge of thirty wagons. The day was pleasant when we started. We marched through Charlestown where they had hung John Brown. The place seemed deserted, the only sign of life being a negro woman peeping at us from a half closed door. We pushed on, we had orders to make Winchester by the next morning, for the army needed supplies.

Soon after dark, in spite of warning from the officers, the men began to straggle, dropping out of ranks; some were getting into wagons, others climbing the fences and sleeping in the fields, expecting to overtake their command by morning. My chum, James Ghormley, and myself, after marching until eleven o’clock at night, concluded that we were too tired to go any longer that night, and that a good sleep was just what we needed. We were within two miles of Berryville when this notion entered our heads. When we awoke daylight was just visible, and we hurried on to overtake our Regiment, expecting to boil coffee at the first fire we came to. We walked on and soon came to where the train had “parked,” that is, had encamped for the night, and were just pulling out. It has been said that this stop was made without orders from our officers, but that the rebels, riding along during the night dressed in our uniform, saying they were aids, had given these orders, their object being to cut off the train and attack it for plunder. Our little squad soon came to where a company of the 144th Ohio were cooking breakfast. We asked permission to boil coffee at their fire. 34This was readily given. We stacked arms, and our coffee had just come to a boil when “bang! bang!” came two artillery shots at us, scattering the limbs of the trees above our heads. These shots were followed by a volley from a clump of woods. Then they charged, yelling as they came. They were Mosby’s Guerrillas, 400 strong, made up of raiders, who disbanded when too hardly pressed and became the innocent farmers of the valley. We grasped our guns, leveled them over the stone wall, gave them one volley, when the Captain in command gave the order to scatter and save ourselves. Well, we ran. In the confusion Ghormley and I became separated and I saw him no more. I was with the most of the company going up a steep lane toward a farm house, about half a mile from the road, passed through a patch of corn and an orchard, and came to the house. A man was sitting on the porch, and he told me to run to the barn. I took his advice. The barn was a mow on stilts, open on every side, and stood on high ground. I stopped for a moment and looked over the field. The raiders were shooting our men down in every direction. I climbed into the hay mow. If I hadn’t this story would never have been written. Like the Irishman who was asked if he run at the battle of Bull Run. “Shure I did, them that didn’t run are there yet.” The fight was hot for a little while, but Mosby hurried for fear of the army ahead. He captured 200 prisoners, 600 head of cattle and burned 70 wagons. He expected to get the paymaster, who was with us, with money for the army. The paymaster was shrewd; he had packed the money in a cracker box and placed it in a wagon, keeping his strong box in his own vehicle. During the fight this cracker box was tumbled down the banks of a little creek that ran through the field. 35I saw it lying there and after the skirmish the paymaster came back and got it. This attack was a complete surprise and was a great loss to Sheridan’s army. I joined our boys who were gathering together on the field. As I passed through the house lot I saw lying on his face the body of a handsome young lieutenant, who was shot by one of our company. The ball entered his forehead and scattered his brains. He was Lieut. Eddy of Mosby’s men, a member of one of the good families in Richmond, Va. Gen. Mosby lamented his loss greatly, he being one of his most trusted men. Our Colonel and Adjutant came riding back in full gallop and hastily reformed the men, formed a skirmish line and scoured the field, picking up discarded arms and compelling an old man who had come to the field with a mule and cart, to pick up what he could and to haul them on to Winchester. We guarded the wagons that were left on to Winchester, where we found the Regiment. That night we slept on the stone pavements of the town and on the next day were sent out on picket, south of the town. We remained there two nights and a day. On the 15th of August we started on our return early in the morning. Before starting Col. Brown made a speech to the Regiment in which he berated them for straggling in the enemy’s country, said “he would punish severely any disobedience of his orders.” We reached Berryville at noon and camped at the farm where the fight had taken place. Two wounded men of the 144th were lying on the porch of the house. They informed us that almost every man of their company had been captured. The 144th lost 130 men in this engagement. Lieut. Eddy had been buried in a shallow grave in one corner of the house lot. We kept a sharp outlook for our 36missing comrades, hoping that they had made their way back to Harper’s Ferry.

On this return march occurred one of those events that made an impression never to be forgotten.

It was nine o’clock at night on a beautiful summer night. The moon shone brightly through the dark pines on the mountains, and glistened across the guns of the great army that marched down the turnpike into old Charlestown. The men were weary and foot sore from their long marches and were swinging along carelessly. Suddenly someone started singing “John Brown’s body lies a moldering in the tomb.” Companies, Regiments and Corps took up the refrain, tired bodies straightened up, and took step to the music. The grand chorus rang out “Glory, glory hallelujah” until the mountains gave back the echo “Glory, glory hallelujah” as though the hosts of Heaven were joining in the refrain “His soul is marching on.” It was the song of triumph, and if the spirits of the departed know of things on earth surely the shade of old John Brown was gratified. Here he was hung, and in the graveyard his body was lying “Moldering in the tomb,” but his soul was marching on in the ranks of the thirty thousand soldiers who on that night marched through Charlestown keeping step to the grand chorus, “Glory, glory hallelujah.”

We marched on and went into camp on Bolivar Heights, near Harper’s Perry. Here we were joined by John Cook and Jeff Martin of Co. A, who had been captured by Mosby but escaped the same day. They told us the story of the capture, how the others had been taken 37south and they had escaped. Mosby’s men after gaining the shelter of the mountains began to examine their plunder and stopped to array themselves in new Union officers’ uniforms. They were marching over a steep mountain road, guarding prisoners, when a portion of them stopped, while those in front passed on out of sight. This left the road clear without a guard in sight. The two boys took advantage of the opportunity and made a break for liberty. Down the mountain side they ran, stumbling and falling, but straining every nerve for freedom. They were not missed apparently, for the rebels did not pursue them. For three days they wandered through the mountains, only approaching the negro cabins by night, where they always found friends ready to feed them and help them on their way. Finally they reached Harper’s Ferry and waited until we came up.

The two Regiments lay in Camp on Bolivar Heights for five days. The time of our enlistment had expired ten days before and now we were a waiting orders for returning to Ohio. We had served nearly four months and were anxious to get back home. When Gen. Sheridan read the application for our discharge he paid us the greatest compliment we had in our experience. He said “I did not know that I had any hundred days men in my army, they are all veterans.”

It rained hard all the time we remained on Bolivar Heights, but we did not care, we were going home. At last orders came from headquarters for our discharge. We were to report at Camp Dennison for final muster out. Giving three cheers we started for Harper’s Ferry on a dark, rainy day. Here we found a train awaiting us, which we boarded and at night pulled out for Baltimore, getting there the next morning. 38We formed ranks and marched to the Northern Central depot, and took a train for home. We returned over the same route over which we came, with the same accommodations. We had another good supper at Pittsburg and reached Columbus, Ohio, at noon. We left our train, marched to Todd Barracks and remained over night. The next day we rode to Camp Dennison, were assigned to the same barracks that we had left four months previously. Cooks were detailed and we remained there a week, until Aug. 30th, the officers making out payrolls, discharges, etc. While there several citizens of Chillicothe came to see us and we received many boxes of good things to eat from home. Several of the boys left camp, walked to the next station and came up home, returning to camp the next day. To say that we were happy but faintly expresses it. We were finally discharged from the United States service and paid off.

A special train was furnished, cars with seats in them, and we sped homeward. When we arrived at Chillicothe we were met by a large outpouring of the citizens, who, to music furnished by the German Brass Band, escorted us up town. We marched up Main street, and we stepped proudly, but were saddened as we passed the homes of James Ghormley and Edward Armstrong. We were coming home, but these, our friends and comrades, never returned. They starved to death in Salisbury, N. C. prison pen.

The good people of Chillicothe had prepared a dinner for us in the market house, and we did justice to it. After dinner we “fell in” for the last time, marched up Paint street and drew up in front of the Court House, where after a few remarks by the Colonel we broke 39ranks, each went to his home, and the 149th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, became a memory.

I was taken prisoner at Berryville, Va., on August 13th, 1864, at 4 A. M., together with James Ghormley, Edward Armstrong, Eldridge Whipple and George Fix, with one man by the name of Sayre of Co. P. These are all that I can recall now. We were cooking coffee by the roadside when all at once we heard the report of a cannon and the shell burst just over our heads and came down through the branches of the trees we were under. At that moment four hundred of Mosby’s mounted guerrillas came down on us demanding our money, watches, jewelry or anything else of value we had on our person. I had one dollar and forty cents. They told me to give them the dollar and I could keep the forty cents, as I would need that before we got back, which I found was the gospel truth. That rebel was honest, anyhow.

They ordered us each to mount a mule and carry a six pound shell in each hand until we crossed the Shenandoah river and then they would provide some other way to carry them. I was riding a small mule and when about the middle of the stream myself, mule and shells dropped into a hole, and the shells are now lying on the bottom of the Shenandoah river. When we got across a rebel sergeant asked me where my shells were. I told him I did not know. He replied “I will report you to Col. Mosby and you will have to pay for them.” That would be the first whack at my lone forty 40cents. I heard no more about it until noon, when they drew us up in line to count us. The sergeant asked “who is you all men that lost the shells in the river?” Nobody knew anything about any shells and he did not recognize me. He said to me, “You look like the man” but of course I did not know anything about his old shells. That is the last I heard of them.

Our dinner the first day was one loaf of bread cut in four pieces for four men. I can say that none of us had to let out our trouser straps. We marched thirty miles the first day and were pretty well tired out by night, when they issued to each of us one pint of flour. This we mixed with water and slapped it on a flat stone, which we propped up opposite the fire and baked it. This tasted good to us but I am afraid it would not pass muster at the Waldorf Astoria. Armstrong said he could not eat his without butter, but we told him his complexion would be better if he would abstain from butter. Finally he concluded that we were right and let it go at that. A Lieutenant came along and asked how we were making out. We told him that we were perfectly delighted with the menu. He said “I am glad you have nothing to complain of.” The next day’s ride took us to Culpepper C. H., the bracing air of Virginia still keeping our appetites in fine shape. No breakfast this morning but had a bounteous feast at noon. They cut a loaf in two for two men. It tasted good while it lasted but the time seemed so short.

That afternoon Ghormley said he was going to make a break into the bushes and get away. He jumped off his mule and had not gone more than ten feet from the road when a guard spied him and fired six shots into the bushes, when Ghormley came back in a hurry. He told the 41guard that he only wanted to get some blackberries. He watched him closely after that and told him “the next berries you get will be lead berries.” At the end of the third day we reached Lynchburg, Va., where we were put into an old tobacco warehouse. There were three hundred prisoners there when we arrived. We were quartered on the dirty floor, covered with tobacco dust. You could hear the men sneeze in all languages. Our fare was still one loaf of bread for two men. At this place our largest and strongest man, Henry Benner, a wagon maker from Chillicothe, said “Boys, we will never get out of this alive.” He began to weaken right there, and in three weeks from that time he died of home sickness. We tried to shame him out of it, saying, “You are the healthiest man in the bunch and you will live through it if any one will.” One morning I found him lying dead on the ground, the first one of our little party to go. They kept us at this place for four weeks and then moved us to Richmond, Va. As we marched past Libbey Prison we heard some one calling from an upper window, “Hey! there! old 149th.” It was Major Rozell who had been captured the same morning that we were. In the fight at Berryville the Major was wounded in the elbow and had been taken direct to Libbey. We were not allowed to speak to him and I have never seen him since. I hear that he is still living in Missouri, having received a letter from him some time ago.

We remained in Richmond one night, when they took us across the river to Belle Island, where the hardest part of our prison life began. It was a bleak spot, bare of trees. Some few of the prisoners had tattered tents, the majority had none. It rained every day while we were 42there and the fog was so thick you could almost cut it until about noon, when it would fix for another rain. We had no protection whatever from this weather, and we would walk around in the night in the rain until we fell asleep on the muddy ground. We would lie there until awakened by the intense cold, to get up and walk again. Here they fed us on wild pea soup, flavored with ox tail, without dressing. No napkins went with this course, and the meals were never on time, as it took the cooks an hour or more to skim the maggots off the soup, as they wanted our meals to come to us perfectly clean, so we could not tell our folks at home that they did not understand their business.

Here is where Armstrong told us “Boys we are never going to make it.” We answered “Now you commence and you will go like Benner.” All the sick men at Belle Isle were to be transferred to City Point, an order having been issued to that effect. Whipple was not feeling well so I told him that I would try to get him off on the boat. I told him as we neared the boat for him to fall down and I would call the officers attention to him. As we had not rehearsed the part, he fell down too soon. I said “You fell down too soon. Wait until I give the word and then fall.” We came near making a mess of it, as it was. He began to laugh about the time for him to fall, but the officers did not see him laugh. The doctor asked me “what is the matter with that man?” I told him “I did not know but he was awful sick.” He finally passed him to City Point. I heard after getting home that he got as far as Annapolis, Md., and had died there. I fully expected to see him when I got home, as I knew the others were dead. He was a baker by trade and worked in Chillicothe before his enlistment. We remained 43for seven weeks on Belle Isle, when we were sent to Salisbury, N. C. We thought Belle Island was awful, but this place, no man can describe it, only an ex-prisoner of war. The stockade, I think, contained twenty acres and was fenced with trees split in half, with several large gates. A large brick building occupied part of the ground, which was formerly the North Carolina Penitentiary. It had three stories, the upper story, when we were there, being used as a jail for rebel deserters and other outlaws from the rebel army. If there ever was a more villainous looking set of men, I never saw them. The first night I was there I went up to this third story to sleep, as it was raining hard, not knowing anything about the place. A man came to me and asked me if I knew what kind of a place I was in? I told him I did not. He said “get out of here as quietly as possible or they would throw me out of the window.” I went instanter.

Within a month Ghormley and Armstrong both died. I was going around the grounds one morning (we had long lost all dates) when I saw Edward Armstrong lying dead on the ground. I scarcely recognized him, he was so black from stooping over the little pine knot fires. The dead wagon carried him away.

About a week later James Ghormley died. I was talking with him the night before. He said “I cannot last but a day or two.” I tried to cheer him up but it was of no use. This left me the only one of our boys alive that I knew of. The last I saw of Armstrong and Ghormley they were piled on the dead wagon that came in twice a day to collect the dead. The corpses were piled in, one on top of another like so many logs, taken out and buried in trenches. I remained there three months longer and was 44just about ready to give up when one morning a rebel lieutenant came to me and said, “Here, you cussed Yank, get up to the gate, you are to be exchanged.” I told him that was an old story. He said “stay there then.” I told him I could not walk so he had me carried to the gate. There were a thousand loaves of corn bread lying on the ground. They told each man to take a loaf, as that would have to last us until we got into our lines. We were three days getting to the Union lines and our loaves looked very small when we arrived at Wilmington, N. C., where we were exchanged.

We ran in on a foggy morning. One of our boys cried out “there is our flag.” You cannot realize how we felt, how we tried to raise a feeble cheer, when we knew that we were in God’s country once more. We were ordered to “pile off” which we did in short order. There were piles of broken crackers and scraps of meat lying on the ground, which had been tramped upon by men and horses, and we began to eat it greedily until we were stopped by our officers putting a guard around us. They told us not to eat that garbage, as Uncle Sam’s rations would be ready in a few minutes. It seemed like a dream to us, we were in a heaven of happiness. We were kept in a hospital at Wilmington for about a week, and then we were sent to Annapolis, Md., by transport. At Annapolis we were put in tent hospital after burning all our clothes and the “varmints” that went with them. They then cut our hair close, turned the hose on us, gave each man a good scrubbing and clothed us in night gowns as our uniforms had not arrived from New York. We remained in hospital for two weeks, when we were sent to general hospital at Baltimore, Md., where our record was taken. My weight at that 45time being 85 lbs., having lost 75 lbs. in rebel prisons, I could not well spare any more. I remained in hospital at Baltimore three months longer, when I was discharged and sent home. My own mother did not know me until I told her who I was.

Comrade McCommon in his wonderful record states that he does not know the dates on which his comrades died. The records show that James Ghormley died December 24th, 1864, so counting back, Armstrong must have died about December 17th.

Our boys are sleeping in unknown graves, but the government for which they died is not unmindful of them. Among the most noteworthy mementoes of the war is the memorial obelisk erected at Salisbury, N. C. to mark the burial place of the Union soldiers who perished in the adjacent prison pen. It has been estimated that eighteen trenches contain no fewer than 11,700 men, buried promiscuously, without the possibility of identification, from which circumstance this ground is known as the cemetery of the unknown dead. It lies about a half mile from the town of Salisbury on a sloping ground, and has an extent of about seven acres, surrounded by a massive stone wall. The cemetery proper contains about two acres, the other five being a lawn covered with trees. A neat lodge has been erected at the entrance over which our flag floats continually. The monument itself, a plain obelisk of New Hampshire granite, thirty-six feet in height, was erected at a cost of ten thousand dollars. The unknown names of the dead are poetically symbolized by a veiled shield. A sword and helmet typify the conflict, 46and a pair of broken fetters the bursting of prison bonds by death. Over all, surrounded by a laurel wreath is the inscription “Pro Patria.” The monument, standing on the highest point of the slope, forms a picturesque feature of the local landscape.

As promised will write a few thoughts for your book, but as I will have to depend entirely upon memory, it may be imperfect.

As a regiment, we have reason to be proud of our record, for there were regiments of one, two and even three years that did less real service than did the 149th O. V. I. one hundred day men. Our day’s work on right of Wallace’s little army on the 9th of July, ’64, at Monocacy, guarding the right flank of the army at Stone Bridge on Baltimore pike, resulted in more good than many other victories, as we helped to hold Early’s thirty thousand men one day, and this enabled Wright and Emery to reach Washington and save the city.

The regiment on that May morning in 1864 left their business and farms at great sacrifices financially and otherwise, and went at call of Governor to Camp Dennison as O. N. G’s. and there volunteered for one hundred days as O. V. I. How proud I was of those noble boys, as we marched out that sunny May morning in front of Governor Brough in our blue uniforms, and arms glistening in the sun, keeping step to the music—listened to a short speech from the Governor—then heard the words “All who will volunteer in U. S. service for one hundred days 47step four paces to the front;” every man in the regiment stepped proudly to the front and was mustered in as 149th O. V. I. Grant in his history gives the author of “Ben Hur” great credit for his work at Monocacy, and Wallace complimented Col. Brown for work of his regiment. Well we had a weary tramp back to Baltimore—those of us who got back. From there we immediately took the train for Washington, and then it was tramp, tramp, tramp, up and down, back and forth, until “Little Phil,” (as he was affectionately called) came up and things began to move.

Those were trying times and many a brave and patriotic boy became discouraged—but Gen. Sheridan soon cleaned up things in the “Valley,” although in doing so many brave boys lost their lives, and among the number were quite a good many of the 149th.

Some of us remember a little “scrap” with Mosby at Berryville on an early morning (the 13th of Aug., ’64); I have only to look at my left arm to remind me that a rebel bullet went crashing through that arm and paralyzed it for the time, and had to grab rein of bridle with sword hand, but was soon surrounded by “Johnnies” and started for the “sunny” south. I might mention many incidents that would interest some of the boys, had I time and space, but as comrade McCommon is giving a paper on prison life, and was along, will leave that to him, but will add only that I was separated from the “boys” at Lynchburg, and never saw them more, except as they passed “Libby” a few days later.

I was in luck to get out about a month later and home about a month after the regiment got back. I had, while in three year service, been shot through left lung, in right shoulder and 48face, and was discharged in the summer of 1863. The wound received at Berryville was enough to place me in what was called the hospital in Libby, and an order was made to examine inmates of hospital, and all who were considered permanently disabled were ordered paroled; I “fell back” on old wounds, and got out on that order; a very happy man I was, when at Aiken’s landing, I passed from under the rebel flag into our lines and under the “stars and stripes.”

Long years have passed since those trying times—many of the dear boys never lived to get back—some sleep on field of battle at Monocacy—some at Berryville, and some at southern prisons; many have answered the last “Roll Call” since their return home; but a few weeks since I witnessed the burial of a member of Co. F, a dear and only brother; soon all of us will have to answer the final call. I am, with one exception, Lt. Col. West, the only Regimental officer left and almost all of the Company officers are gone, and a large per cent of the boys in the ranks are gone; Taps to all will come soon, and Lights out forever. Let us be ready, boys, for the “Grand Review” on the other shore.

In that portion of the Civil War history pertaining to the events in and around the city of Washington D. C. which occurred during the month of July, 1864, it will be shown that the Capitol was besieged as it were, by a rebel force under the command of the Confederate General 49Early, and known as “Early’s raid on Washington.”

A true account of the prominent part taken by the 149th Regiment O. V. I. in the defence of the Capitol will be found in the foregoing pages of this book, written by a comrade and member of Company A of said Regiment.

The writer of the following incident and a witness to the same, had the honor to hold a Commission, and in command of a company in the Regiment, and having been detailed by the General to store the surplus baggage of the Brigade of which our Regiment was a part (this preparatory to forced marches incident to the aforenamed campaign of defense) was on duty in the city when martial law was declared and was placed in charge of a company of Treasury Department Employees, and reported with the company out on Arlington Heights, and were assigned to a position behind the breast works previously thrown up, every sort of fighting force having been pressed into service for the city’s defense.

The necessity demanding it, for be it understood that the Confederate army under General Early was encamped uncomfortably near the city, and plainly in view from the U. S. signal station on the Heights.

The anxiety of the great president (Mr. Lincoln) for the safety of the Capitol was evidenced when he insisted in being taken to the very out post of the army in defense, giving a word of cheer to the soldiery as he passed along from one post to another, the president himself being actually under fire, as occasionally a bullet from the enemy’s sharpshooters would whiz past.

General Ord in command urged his retirement to a place of safety, and finally under protest 50was about to enter his carriage, (his military escort in waiting) his attention was attracted to a young calf tied to a tree near a farm house seemingly in great distress. This earth work be it remembered at this time was built through a lawn surrounding a farmer’s house, and after the close of the war bought by the Government and is now the National “Arlington Cemetery.” Mr. Lincoln’s great heart was touched at the distress of the young animal, and stepping from the carriage he was about to enter, went to examine the cause, when it was found that a small bullet had been imbedded in the tail of the calf and bleeding from the fresh wound. Mr. Lincoln taking out his pocket knife cut the ball out, and with a gentle pat on the back of the calf placed the ball in his pocket. Being again advised to retire to safer quarters he reluctantly boarded his carriage and was driven back to the city amid the shouts of the army.

This incident, a piece of unwritten history, proves the great sympathetic heart of the man. That while under the excitement and anxiety consequent on the danger of the besieged Capitol of the Nation, and his own life endangered, yet his sympathy and relief was extended to a poor dumb animal. ’Twas this spirit manifested and the ready relief extended to the boys in blue that entitled him to be called so affectionately “Father Abraham” by not only the boys of the army but the whole loyal North.

Through all dangers and discomforts consequent in “War’s Alarms” ’twas the manifestation of this kindness of heart, courage and sympathy that won the hearts of his countrymen, and made him the greatest American.

I was captured July 9th, 1864 at the battle of Monocacy, after fighting from early morn until 4:30 P. M., when, being hard pressed and nearly surrounded by the enemy, we received orders for every man to save himself. This order scattered our organization, and we broke for the rear. The rebels were fast closing in on us, leaving only one road open for our retreat. I took that route to escape, and went through all right, but many of the boys were captured before getting through. I followed the main body of the troops who were in full retreat toward Baltimore.

I will not go into detail in regard to the capture of Philip Frank of my company, and myself, by a body of rebel cavalry, and taken back to Frederick, but will relate one incident. The cavalry who had captured us, met the infantry, who demanded of them, that they turn over the prisoners to them because they had done all of the fighting, and were entitled to take charge of the prisoners. A fierce quarrel arose, they drew guns on each other, and a fight was about to take place, when a cavalry officer rode up, ordered the infantry to march on, and the cavalry to take us to the rear. After marching a short distance they halted us and said that they would have to give us up soon, and that we would be searched when they turned us over, and that as they had captured us, we were their prisoners, it was their first search. They began, and took away what we had, that they wanted, combs, knives and some silver money that I happened to have, but they did not get rich, for we did not have much for them to get. We 52marched back to Frederick City, and were halted in the main street, where we were turned over to the infantry. While there, some of the loyal ladies of the town came with a basket of food, and gave some to us, which tasted very good, as I had only two hard tack and a pint of coffee that day. They would not give our guard any of it so they became angry and drove them away.

While here, more prisoners were brought in, and we marched through the town, and went into camp for the night in a field outside the limits. The next morning we marched back through the town, and on about four miles to Monocacy Junction. We passed through the battle field, where the dead and wounded were still lying on the ground, where they had fallen. At the junction we were joined by five hundred prisoners, who had been captured and brought there the night before. These men had drawn two days’ rations from the rebels, but we did not get anything. However, there was no help for it, and we started on the Rockville road toward Washington, passing through part of the field of Monocacys battle of the day before. Some of the wounded were lying by the road side, and begged us piteously for water. My canteen was filled with water, and I stepped out of ranks to give the poor fellows a drink, but a rebel guard drew his gun on me and swore he would shoot if I did not get back into line. I told him I only wanted to give the wounded men a drink, when he said let some of the Yankee citizens round here give them water. At that, I took off my canteen and threw it over to the wounded men. My guard at that said, “I was a fool, and that I would need a canteen before I got one.” This was true for I never had another, but often needed one.

We marched on to Rockville where dead 53horses were lying in the street. There had just been a fight here. We went into an orchard surrounding a house, and got water from the well. A lady came out and said, “If any of you boys want to write home, I will mail your letters for you. The rebels will soon retreat, and then I will send the letters.” Comrade W. W. McCracken wrote a letter telling our folks at home all the particulars of our capture. He left the letter with the lady, and it reached its destination.

I told her I had no rations and that I was very hungry, and wanted something to eat. She gave me a big slice of home made bread and butter. I will never forget that loyal lady, and have often wished that I could go to Rockville to repay the kindness done to a poor boy, only fifteen years old, and a prisoner of war. We were then taken out to another road on our way toward Washington, and camped in a field for the night.

The next morning we resumed the march toward Washington. About noon we began to hear heavy firing in front, and the rebel stragglers began passing us hurrying to the front so that they might be among the first to enter Washington and loot the city. One of the guards told me that the roar of the cannons was the sweetest music on earth to the rebels. I answered, “I think before you take Washington you will be accommodated with plenty of sweet music.” We marched on for three hours under heavy fire from siege guns. The stragglers who had rushed to the front in order to be the first to enter the city began to come back. We taunted them, asking, “Why didn’t you go on into Washington?” They replied, “We would, only the cursed Yankees are throwing flour barrels at us.” We were marched up until in full 54view of Fort Stephens, where we could see the stars and stripes floating above the fort.

They placed us in an orchard so close to the fort that the shells would crash through the tree tops above our heads. This was not of long duration, until a rebel line of infantry came out of the woods and charged the fort. The fort reserved their fire until the rebels got close up to it, and I began to fear that it would be taken, when all at once it let loose with artillery, and a galling infantry fire from a line of troops that we had not seen. Such a noise I never heard. The smoke and the gathering twilight hid all the combatants from view, but we could tell from the sound of the guns that the rebels were falling back, and that the Union infantry was following them up. Directly all firing ceased, and we knew that the enemy had been repulsed. At this time we drew two days’ rations of beef and flour, but before we had time to cook it we were ordered to fall in, and under a heavy guard began marching to the rear. The whole rebel army came pell mell, almost a stampede. The cavalry and artillery filled the road, the infantry going through the fields. The cattle they had stolen in Maryland were also driven through the fields, the drivers yelling and swearing, making the air hideous with the din. A fine residence of a United States Senator was burned to the ground.

All this made an impression upon my mind that I will never forget. I learned afterward that after their repulse at Washington, the word was passed that General Hunter was advancing from Harper’s Ferry to attack them in the rear. We marched all night and forded the Potomac at Edwards Ferry early the next morning. We waded the river, which came up to my arm pits. I being small. We camped near a big spring 55not far from the river, where we rested and cooked what little we had. The next morning two days rations were issued, and cooked, and we again took up the march passing through Leesburg, Va., and on through Snickers Gap, getting to the Shenandoah river after dark. Here we camped for the night. The next morning they allowed us to bathe in the river. We resumed the tiresome march and pressed on to Winchester where we halted in the edge of the town. While here we drank from a spring the coldest water I ever saw. We then marched to Kernstown where we encamped for two days. Here Joseph Rowland and Joseph Hays of my company made their escape. This left eleven of our squad still prisoners. Sergeants James Nichols and Rees McCall; Corporals James and William Harrison, brothers and Privates W. W. McCracken, Thomas Broaders, Philip Frank, Wm. Houser, James Cruit, Peter Garratt and myself. The stop here gave us a much needed rest, and we again drew our two days’ rations of beef and flour. Two days’ rations may sound big, but a hearty man could eat it all at one meal without discomfort. I do not remember the exact amount, but know that it was not near enough to satisfy our hunger.

We again resumed our march bound for Staunton up through the beautiful Shenandoah valley, passing through New Market, Mt. Jackson and Willow Springs. At Staunton we boarded the cars and rode to Charlotte. Here we went into camp and drew what they called rye bread and tainted salt beef. The bread was the worst I ever saw. It was dough inside with a thick hard crust, that could hardly be broken, when it was broken the dough rolled out. The next morning we were again taken by the cars to Lynchburg. Here we were 56placed in a tobacco warehouse. The floor was covered with dried tobacco juice and licorice, at least that was what the boys said it was. I did not use the weed. We remained here a few days, I don’t remember how long, I only recollect the stinking meat issued to us.

While here I passed my sixteenth birthday, the 26th of July. On the 27th, we went on to Petersburg and Richmond Junction, thence to Danville, arriving there on the 28th. We were assigned to Prison No. 7, an old tobacco warehouse. The first floor was used as a hospital, the second, third and fourth stories for prisoners quarters. I was put in squad No. 7 on the second floor. We were fifty men to a squad in charge of a sergeant whose duty it was to draw rations for the men and to detail two comrades each day to carry water from the Dan river, about 200 yards from the prison. Here the hard prison life began. There was a cook house near the prison, the cooks being Union soldiers. The rations were corn bread made of corn and cob ground together, sometimes with salt, often without. Once in a while we had bean soup made from black or nigger peas, as they called them. A little bacon in the soup full of skippers. I could not eat it, it was so filthy, I only ate a small piece of the corn bread each day.

I cannot go into detail, each day was like another and very monotonous. We suffered from the heat when we first went into this prison. There were five squads of 50 on our floor, and when we all lay down at night, there was no room to spare, we were packed like sardines in a box. To economize space we would lie in rows across the building and when we turned over all would turn. On a hot night the stench was fearful. We remained here during July 57and August using water from the Dan river. This was stagnant, in pools, for the river had almost dried up in the summer. The rebels would march us past as nice a spring of good cold water as ever flowed and would not allow us to get it, but take us to the river, where we skimmed the green scum from the surface with our buckets and dip water from the hot, stinking pool. The hot weather created thirst, and the prisoners drank it as fast as it was carried to them and cried for more. If our guards were not in the humor we would have to wait until they were ready, consequently there was great suffering from thirst. About the last of August, Smith Miller of Company E of our regiment became suddenly insane, and was taken to the hospital where he afterward died. Philip Frank of my company was also sent to the hospital where he died. Many of the men became sick and we were all growing weaker day by day. In September an order came to exchange a certain number of the sick. When the doctor came to examine them, I took Samuel Jones to him, Jones could not walk, so Joe Shepard and I carried him down. The doctor passed him and then asked me, “Now what is the matter with you?” I told him, “Nothing, only I want something to eat.” The doctor replied, “If you would say so, I will pass you.” I said, “No, take some poor fellow that was sick, I am not sick, and I do not intend to die in prison.” The boys of my company that were released at this time were James Nichols, Reeves McCall, James and William Harrison and Peter Garrett. The two Harrison boys died at Annapolis, Maryland, on their way home. Disease and exchange now cut our number down, but our condition did not improve, we were growing weaker every day for want of 58food. In October I was sick with diarrhoea and went to the hospital. The sick were better cared for, and the nurses were detailed Union soldiers. The doctors were Rebels, and did not have much regard for the prisoners. I remained in the hospital but did not get any better. In October Thomas Broades was brought into the hospital, paroled on sick leave, and afterward died at Annapolis. Later in the year William Houser was brought over to the hospital, but only lived a few days.

Between Christmas and New Years Day I took the pneumonia and the doctor told me, “Well, little Yank, you will have to die,” I told him, “I will never leave my bones in the southern confederacy.” He put a fly blister on my chest and the next morning I was better. Then I had inflammation of the bowels, and he swore I would die. He had no medicine to give me, but put another fly blister on my stomach. The blisters broke in the night and the water run all over me. In the morning I again felt better but soon erysipelas set in, where the blisters had been. He then said I must be painted with iodine. This the nurses refused to do, saying that I would die, and did not see the use of torturing me, but let the boy die in peace. The doctor said it must be done. They asked me about it, I told them if they would let Edgar Hulbert of the Twenty-third O. V. I. who was a nurse, paint me I would never say a word. He did the job and I kept my promise. About a week later I was up and walking around. I improved rapidly, and on the 25th of January I was returned to the prison. About this time the United States sent some clothing to us, but not enough to go round. I drew a blouse and my comrade McCracken a blanket.

59It was now very cold in the prison, some would sleep under blankets while others marched around to keep warm. We kept this up until becoming exhausted, we would rouse the sleepers and take their places. This was kept up continually day and night, as long as we remained at Danville. About the 10th of February we were placed in the cars and carried to Richmond, Va., and put in Libbey prison. We suffered terribly from the cold on this trip. We were weak and our clothes were worn out. I was dressed in the blouse spoken of, remnants of a pair of trousers and a pair of socks that I had taken off a dead man. My pants were so badly worn that I would not be presentable in good society. But comrade McCracken had his blanket and we snuggled under it in one corner of the car and done the best we could until we landed in Libbey.

There has been a great deal said about Libbey prison, and truly too, but it was the best one I was in, we had a warmer place to stay and a greater variety of food, although the rations were extremely small. Here we talked about being exchanged, we thought we had been brought here for that purpose. On the morning of February 20th, a Rebel officer came to the prison and told us to get ready for parole. There was a glad lot of poor boys, all was excitement. The officer went away and did not return until afternoon when he returned with other officers and clerks and called us up in line. We took the oath of parole to do no duty for the United States Government until regularly exchanged. This we gladly took. That night we had a big time, nobody slept, in the morning we were going back to God’s country and home. Comrade McCracken sold his blanket for fifty dollars (confederate) and bought six pounds of 60flour with it. We made flap jacks and baked them on a stone, ate and talked about what we would eat when we got home.

In the morning we were taken on board the rebel flag of truce boat, I was very weak, but Joe Shepard the good Samaritan of our regiment helped me aboard, and we started down the James river to Harrison Landing. Some one shouted “there is the old flag.” In an instant everybody was alert, and on looking down the river we caught a glimpse of “Old Glory” through the tree tops on one of the boats of our fleet. Such a time I never saw, we were the happiest boys on earth. We cheered, we shouted, we cried, we prayed, we were so happy. Many were going back to die, but they were glad to get where they could die under the dear old flag. We landed at Harrison Landing where the 25th Corps (colored) was stationed. It looked queer to me to see them on the skirmish line opposing the Rebels. Each fellow had his “gopher hole” to dodge in, one big black fellow picked me up like a baby and carried me back through the lines. They all came running to us with something to eat, those great black fellows with white hearts. My man carried me as far as he could go, and I walked a short distance to the river, where the transport “New York” was waiting for us. We went aboard and had a good meal of soft wheat bread, pickle pork, coffee with sugar and condensed milk, I thought I had never tasted anything so good. We arrived at Annapolis on Washington’s birthday, February 22, 1865.

I have tried in my own feeble way to tell something about my prison life. I have written it from memory and there may be some errors of dates, and etc. An old man’s memory is sometimes faulty. I have not told of all the 61horrors that I have witnessed, no tongue can tell nor pen describe what I have seen in these hells. To tell all would make a book, what I have told is true. I was discharged March 29th, 1865, at Todd Barracks in Columbus, Ohio.

While we were in camp at Chain Bridge we occupied the crest of a hill or ridge that sloped gradually to the south, making an ideal camping ground for the army. As night drew on camp fires were kindled and twinkled by thousands over the slope while the soldiers prepared their supper. Stories of their adventures and songs served to pass the evening. When the time came for “lights out,” a drum corps on the right began playing “The girl I left behind me.” A brass band in the centre struck up “Home Sweet Home.” These were all the tunes we recognized, for every band and drum corps in camp began playing. Pandemonium seemed to have broken loose, as the great volume of sound came up. Tunes could not be distinguished, the discord was terrific. It gradually died away as band after band ceased playing. A deep silence came over the plain, the stars blinked in the summer sky. The army was asleep.

Once on our march toward Snickers Gap I saw a squad of soldiers taking a cow from a farm lot, they had tied a rope around her horns two were tugging at the rope, and others were pushing. The woman of the house and her 62children were crying and begging them to let her alone. The argument was still on as we marched along.

On this same march we passed a field where a fight had taken place a day or two before. The dead had been buried and the wounded removed, but the field was full of dead horses. The stench from the swollen carcasses lying under the sweltering rays of the hot July sun was terrific. We hurried past as fast as possible, breathing a sigh of relief when we came again into the pure air of the mountains.

Harper’s Ferry was the gateway to the south. It was captured and retaken many times during the war by both Union and Confederate armies. Situated at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers, with Loudon and Maryland Heights surrounding it, it was a natural fortress. The town was the target for both sides, and many of its homes carried the marks of shot and shell. The United States Arsenal which was burned early in the war, stood with roofless walls and tottering chimneys a silent monument of the ravages of the conflict.

A pontoon bridge spanned the Potomac river a short distance above the railroad bridge, over which the armies passed. When we marched across the pontoon, orders were given to “break step,” least the swing of the time step would break the bridge. This bridge was laid on boats that were lashed together side by side, and anchored in the river, on these stringers were laid and a floor on the stringers, rails were placed on the edge to keep the wagons from slipping over. This, however did not prevent some from going over, for I saw two wagons 63with their teams lying overturned on the bottom of the river.

While in the town we went into the old engine house called “John Brown’s Fort” where he put up his stubborn fight against the Virginia militia. The loop holes through which he fired were still there. Every time we passed through this town was on a Saturday, so we nick-named it “Harper’s Weekly.”

A chain of forts encircled Baltimore, Maryland, from Fort No. 1 on Baltimore street to Fort No. 12 in Druid Hill Park. Details were made from the men at our fort for guard duty at these outposts. One guard at each fort to remain all day, his duty being to keep a strict watch. One day, (I being on duty at Fort 11), a squad of twelve cavalrymen came on a full gallop down the road past the fort. Just as they came opposite to where I was standing guard, the officer in command shouted, “There they are, fire.” A volley from their carbines followed and two men who were in a field running through the high wheat threw up their hands and tumbled over dead. I heard afterward that they were deserters trying to escape from Lafayette Barracks. The discipline was severe, some may think too much so, but it was necessary in order to control the great variety of characters that made up the army. When our company first came to Fort No. 1 we found the guard house full of rough men of the New York Artillery, and we were detailed to guard them. Of all low, rough New York toughs, these were surely the worst. They took great pleasure in guying the boys fresh from home, and their actions were disgusting. Luckily 64they went away in a short time. One night two of them attempted to break guard and escape. Our boys who were on guard fired at them, and alarmed the garrison. A search squad was at once formed and the two men were found lying on their faces in the ditch surrounding the fort, nearly frightened to death. They were taken back to the guard house saying, “they did not think the century plants would shoot,” but they did. These fellows had a better opinion of us after that episode.

During our first march the boys began to pick up from the fields various articles that they considered valuable as relics, intending to carry them home. Bayonets and cannon balls seemed to be favorite articles for collection. After carrying them for a few miles they began dropping them one by one. We found out in a very short time that the less we had to carry the better we could march.

I was fortunate in bringing home, and still have my cap box, eagle plate, visor of my cap a tin flask and testament and hymn book. A testament and hymn book was given to every soldier. But the most prized is the engraved and engrossed card of thanks given by the president of the United States, under seal of the Government, and signed by the martyred friend of every Union soldier, Abraham Lincoln. A captain in our regiment brought home a beautiful sword that belonged to one of Mosbys’ men, and was found on the field after the fight at Berryville, Va. It was a beautiful piece of work, ivory hilt, gold mounted, with a scabbard inlaid with gold and silver designs. It was highly prized by the captain, and no doubt would be more highly prized by the man who lost it at Berryville.

The hundred days service was hard, but it had a humorous side. Many were the pranks played by the boys. Many pleasant hours we spent together, and our experiences are told and laughed over today. At Fort No. 1 we had our own string band, and every evening we had dancing or singing led by Captain Peabody or Lieutenant McKee, some played cards, others went down into the city taking in the markets, theatres, etc. At one time down town a gentleman asked some of us, “Boys, what regiment do you belong to?” We answered, “The 149th Ohio.” He mused awhile and said, “One hundred and forty nine, that means a hundred and forty nine thousand, my goodness boys do men grow on trees in Ohio?”

When we left Baltimore our hardships began, the first day’s march nearly used us up, starting from Washington at noon, we crossed the Potomac at Edwards Ferry at 5 o’clock, our feet were blistered as we hobbled along, the first night we sank to rest, a tired, discouraged body of men. Our accoutrements were heavy, our guns a burden, but a canteen filled with water seemed heaviest of all, the string over the shoulder felt like it would cut clear through. Our appearance after two or three marches would have made Rip Van Winkle on awakening look like a dude in comparison.

We were ragged, tattered and torn, our 66shoes worn out, and the sacred soil of old Virginia was ground into our system, from the dust that we continually lived in. We thought the turnpikes of the Shenandoah valley were the hardest in the world. But they were not too hard to sleep on, when the weary soldier dropped in his tracks, the moment a halt was made. I have seen the men marching sound asleep only awakened when their heads came in contact with the tail board of the wagon in front.

This was the common experience of all soldiers and we did not complain, we often said we would rather meet the enemy than to endure the fatigue of the march.

The events I have tried to describe happened forty-seven years ago. Many who were with us then have answered the last roll call and passed over the majority. We who remain keep their memory green by strewing their graves with flowers on each recurring Memorial day, while those of our comrades who are sleeping in unknown graves in the south are not forgotten in our annual tribute of flowers. Soon the last old soldier will have gone to his rest, but his work will endure in a restored Union, a nation that commands the respect of the world. We did what we could, man or angels can do no more, we did not realize at the time in what a great work we were engaged. I am glad that I was permitted to live in those days, and take a little part in the great events that resulted in a reunited country, whose flag is honored wherever it flies.

George Perkins

Adjutant A. L. Brown Post No. 162 Grand Army of the Republic.

Past Commander A. L. Brown Post No. 162 Grand Army of the Republic.

Past Chief Mustering Officer, Department of Ohio, G. A. R.

This regiment was organized at Camp Dennison, O., from the 8th to the 11th of May, 1864, to serve one hundred days. It was composed of the Twenty-seventh Regiment, Ohio National Guard, from Ross county, and the Fifty-fifth Battalion, Ohio National Guard, from Clinton county. On the 11th of May the regiment left the state of Baltimore, Md. Upon arrival it was assigned to duty at various forts in and around the city, and remained there until the 29th of May, when it was ordered to the eastern shore of Maryland, and distributed at different points. About the 4th of July the regiment was ordered to Monocacy Junction, and on the 9th took part in an engagement with the enemy. The regiment lost in killed and wounded about thirty, and in prisoners over one hundred. After the battle of Monocacy it took part with the Sixth and Nineteenth Corps in the marches in Maryland and Virginia. Portions of the regiment were with the One Hundred and Forty-fourth when it was attacked by Mosby’s guerrillas, at Berryville, Va., August 13. The regiment returned to Ohio August 20, 1864, and was mustered out on the 30th, on expiration of its term of service.