Continuing a series on the Civil War in New Kent with reports to the The Daily Green Mountain Freeman from their correspondent in the Vermont Brigade during the Peninsula campaign of 1862. The Daily Green Mountain Freeman was founded in 1844 in Montpelier, Vermont, as an organ of the anti-slavery Liberty Party that contested the presidential election of that year.
The editor of the Freeman was Charles Wesley Williard, the "Mr. Williard" of the correspondence. Williard (1827-1880) served as editor of the paper from 1861 until 1873. In 1868 he was elected as a Republican to the United States Congress where he served three terms.
 |
| Charles Wesley Williard by Matthew Brady |
Today our correspondent share his thoughts from White House Plantation on wood ticks, sutlers, and other parasites.
Camp on Gen. Lee's Plantation, May 14.
Mr. Willard: Late last night I closed a letter, telling you that we expected a continuation of our long marches in the morning. The morning has come and gone, and our march has been made, about seven miles, over a road very difficult for the passage of our artillery and transportation wagons; in fact, they are not all on the ground yet. From my tent I can now see a long train of wagons, among them the balloonwagons, looking for all the world like the monkey cages of a caravan. A large number of troops are halted here, several Divisions, I should judge; none, however, that I am acquainted with, but our own and Porter’s.
We move slowly, but I expect sure, and from all that I can see and surmise I should judge that Little Mac would be ready to exhibit his anaconda and wood-tick how in Richmond on or about the 21st inst. A limited number of Congressmen and other adults are expected to be present to see the anaconda hiss, bite and squeeze. During the week he will be fed on ball cartridges and percussion shells, and, - for further particulars see small bills, or the New York Tribune, H. Greeley, editor.
Our present encampment is historic ground. The plantation, a very large one, not less than a thousand acres, is now the property of Gen. Lee, in the rebel service. It once belonged to Major Curtis, grandchild of Mrs. Washington. We are now in full view of the old home stead (with new buildings, I presume,) where Washington passed his courtship and honeymoon. A strong guard protects the premises and the plantation. I don't recollect the historian's particulars about this era in the life of Washington, further than when betrothed he used to have considerable business in this latitude; and who would not, to win the affections of such a woman as Martha Curtis(sic)?
I have just used in my remarks about "Mac's show," the expression, "Little Mac's wood ticks." That was truly an original idea with some one of our soldiers. You all must know what a wood tick is, though l am not sure us they are grown in Vermont; but anywhere West or South they are to the manor born. This peninsula is swarming with them, and at every camp we are sure to get our clothes full of them.
Of all the pesky insects I have ever had to do with, these wood-ticks are the most annoying, save, perhaps, the regular line-back, kangaroo mosquito, indigenous to the swamps and prairies of the West. You can have no peace day or night, for them. They will get in your ears, in your hair, in (act everywhere about your person, in, d the they commence boring for blood upon the regular Artesian well principle and in a little while these insignificant little creatures swell up like a balloon. Go into a camp any where at anytime and you will find any number of soldiers hunting for "ticks," hence the idea so original and apropos Little Mac's wood ticks."
I have not forgotten my promise to give you in "my next" the grand sutler scene I witnessed yesterday at Cumberland landing. At a moderate estimate there was on that landing, less than a mile square, 40,000 troops, some say 60,000. Now not one of this host of soldiers unless they were smarter than the boys of Vermont Brigade, and Gen. Brooks has effectually contradicted that, had had anything to eat or drink better than a soldier's ration of hard tack, raw pork and bareback coffee for months.
You can readily conceive what an appetite they had on when the camp news became general that there was a boat-load of sutler's stores at the landing. Chickens to a dough dish is but a poor illustration of the rush to the river's bank for victuals, something that had the smell or taste of buttery about it, cheese, ginger bread, cakes, pies, crackers, and of course tobacco, cider, and I reckon down in the bulkhead a few measures of liquefied rye and com. To their great astonishment and chagrin, the boat was anchored out in the stream some thirty yards from the shore. But there were a dozen or more skiffs about, and all of them in demand taking passengers to and from this boat-load of luxuries. Impatient for passage, many a hungry soldier would wade out in the stream up to his waist to meet the returning bout, while others, still more impatient, threw off their clothes, and plunging in, swam to yonder boat with their mouths crammed full with pocket-book, purse or change. Securing a passage for the moderate sum of twenty-five cents, your correspondent was soon one of them, a lone dollar being all his capital, with which he certainly expected to get as much as a taste of something good to eat, for his bowels yearned exceedingly. The craft was a full rigged schooner of about two hundred tons burthen. Fore and aft there was a hatchway, and down in the hold all the supplies were stored, save a few bands of apple cider on deck. As many as three men at each hatchway officiated as clerks, dealing out the goodies to the hyenas on deck. Now, I cannot believe that any pen can picture out those hatchway scenes; a brush and pencil might do it to advantage, but this little weapon, it is more powerful than the sword, becomes like Samson shorne of his strength when it essays to write out a scene like this. There was first a constant yell, "two pounds of snaps," "one pound of cheese," "three pounds of butter," "ten pounds of tobacco," and now and then you would hear some reckless, hungry, improvident chap sing out, “Here's a dollar get us that's worth of anything, whiskey, tobacco or bread." But, to my great surprise and disappointment, I soon found that a dollar was of much less account there than the same money was in California in 1849, when $12 a dozen for eggs was a moderate charge, and I began to think that by the lime I had paid another quarter for a return passage, my chances for a smell even, say nothing about a taste, would be exceedingly small. However, I saw a cider barrel going, and thinks I to myself, if a half or a quarter has got any show on this boat, that barrel must no the place. So, after pushing, and jamming, and punching, and pulling myself through the crowd, in the course of an hour and a bait I had the good luck to secure a cup full of cider, an excellent article. There was less than a pint, and us it only cost a quarter, I felt relieved after I got myself out of the channel and breathed freely again. Just then I met one of the stark naked customers, and he had a pound of cheese in his arms. What did you pay for that," I asked. "Seventy-five cents." "I'll give you a dollar and a half for it now," put in a ragged, rusty looking soldier by my side. "No you don't," said the cheese man, "I'd rather charge a rebel battery than go naked through that crowd again."
While this conversation was going on an officer came along with a bottle of brandy peaches." How much for that" someone asks. “Two and a half." "Can you get any more." "Yes, you can but I can't, unless you lend me the money." In a little while I soon observed a movement extraordinary near the bow of the schooner. Crowding along up, I soon learned what the matter was. A squad of boys, more liberal in their views of trade and traffic than the proprietor of the concern, had knocked in the head of a cider barrel and were vending the fluid without money and without price, and before the news came to the ears of the sutler, they had sold out. I then stood round the hatchway again and looked in amazement upon these customers packed around, tier above tier, buying their wares. Fully a third of them were swimmers, some Zouaves with their circus riding uniforms and thee balance a crowd of sharp witted, money spending soldiers, the whole group making a tableau such as no artist has ever painted. Tired of all tins, yet I would not have miss id it for an interest in the Tribune's gun factory, I set sail for camp, arriving just in time to settle up my cash account 75 cents for a drink of cider and write up my correspondence for the Freeman and other parties nearer home.
Great is Diana of Ephesians, but greater still is Horace Greeley of the Tribune, and it seems a pity that he is not a God. Yesterday I made an extract from one of his editorials, wherein he "regretted" that our success at Yorktown was not more sanguinary, that is, he was sorry that your correspondent or somebody else had not mingled their blood with his carnage loving patriotism for the Union and his Brigade. Most of us soldiers are inclined to think that is somewhat cool to say the least, and if we should take time to study on it a little they might get a little wroth.
It is rainy again, and the signs are that it will continue through the night if not longer. This not just what we could wish, but no move than we can endure.
By the way that yarn about the Vermont troops going home soon has thickened up a little and last night it was said to be official that all the Vermont troops would soon ho discharged save those who were willing to enlist in the Regular service. You can take as much stock in this as you please and I will sell you all of mine for a small consideration; at the same time I would not be surprised if we should make an advance upon Vermont before the 4th of July. How would it suit women, children and tax-payers?
Yours, etc, See Ses
Ess.
--The Daily Green
Mountain Freeman.(Montpelier, Vt.), May 22, 1862
No comments:
Post a Comment