3. Pacifying Southern Maryland

Washington was still vulnerable, and the Rebels could not be allowed to make gains in Maryland. Expeditions by the Excelsiors and other Federal troops had already gone into southern Maryland to apprehend enemy agents and to disrupt anti-administration activities. But occasionally charging about the Charles County countryside was not enough to secure Maryland, nor was it enough for the eager New Yorkers. With Rebel cannons on the Virginia side of the Potomac shooting at Union boats headed for the capital, there was much more to be done.

After much anticipation, the regiment was formed up on October 18 and began the march from Camp Caldwell, moving from the outskirts of Washington south into the heart of southern Maryland. Captain R.S. Williamson of the engineers accompanied the regiment. Williamson’s job would be multifold. First was to pinpoint the exact location of several Rebel cannon posted along the river near Budd’s Ferry, 40 miles or so from Washington. Secondly, it was to measure the width of the river at the points in question, with this information then leading to the positioning of Federal batteries.²

Budd’s Ferry was just one location among many Rebel batteries. Ranged all along the Potomac, Southern guns regularly took shots at Union craft. Till then, Rebel gunners had been poor shots and few craft were hit, but there was uncertainty about the extent of enemy strength and it was vital the Potomac remain open to Union shipping. The army around Washington was growing, and as it did, fear of enemy attack declined. Troops could now be spared for other operations. So it fell to the Excelsior Brigade and the other regiments of General Joseph Hooker’s newly formed division to make the river safe.

Joe Hooker’s star was rising fast as high command sorted out the organization of a growing army. A West Point graduate, young Hooker had been dazzling in various staff positions during the Mexican War but resigned in 1853 after a two year leave of absence. Hooker came to regret his decision as he eked out a living in northern California and Oregon. By 1858 he was sending out feelers regarding rejoining the army. When nothing came of his solicitations, Hooker struggled until war with the South broke out; he then traveled to Washington in search of a colonel’s commission. Fate and timing were kind to the 37-year-old Hooker; he quickly made general and was offered a brigade, with placement on the general’s list two slots ahead of Ulysses Grant.³

Schooners dodging Rebel fire near Budd’s Ferry. Confederate batteries near Budd’s Ferry and elsewhere along the Virginia side of the Potomac fired on Federal ships making their way to Washington. Third Excelsior and others units within the brigade crossed the river, making frequent raids into this area in order to disrupt enemy activity (The Illustrated London News).

Hooker originally had been assigned only a brigade. Unlike the Excelsiors, his original brigade had not been covering the approaches to the capital, but rather had been held behind Washington in good supporting distance should Confederates attack. Hooker’s brigade comprised five volunteer regiments. Though the First Massachusetts was present at Bull Run and performed creditably it hadn’t seen heavy action; it was one of several regiments adding to the general confusion by wearing gray uniforms. The 11th Massachusetts was recruited from Boston and performed miserably at Bull Run when officers couldn’t prevail upon their men to fight. The Second New Hampshire fought hard in the early stages of the battle, doing as well as most before the tide began to turn. The First Michigan had seen some action at Bull Run but was undistinguished, while Hooker’s fifth regiment, the 28th Pennsylvania, had missed the battle altogether.⁴ These five regiments would be known as the “Hooker Brigade” or “Old Hooker Brigade” and composed the First Brigade of his new division, with the Excelsiors designated as Second Brigade. Adding to these ten regiments of infantry, Hooker received eight companies of Third Indiana Cavalry and one battery from the First United States Artillery. In just a few weeks, Joe Hooker had gone from a colonel in search of a 1,000-man regimental command to general of a 10,000-man division—one-third more troops than Winfield Scott had commanded at Mexico City two decades before.⁵

Third Excelsior welcomed the move south. They had joined the army to fight, not stand guard or build forts. The boys often saw General McClellan tearing around as if some great action were imminent, yet nothing ever came of it, adding to the notion that he was reluctant to fight or worse, was a Rebel sympathizer.⁶ Yet, here they were; the boys stepped off at 10 p.m. on the night of the 18th. With 20 pioneers and two companies of cavalry, the column stopped frequently for the building of bridges and road repair. Nearly constant rain created ankle-deep mud the entire march. The regiment marched two-and-one-half days to get to Budd’s Ferry. The countryside was as pitiful as had been seen during the previous expeditions. Henry Taylor of Company B related the scene to newspaper readers back in Fredonia:

Federal batteries stationed near Budd’s Ferry on the Potomac shore in southern Maryland fire across the river at Confederate artillery installations that harassed Union shipping plying the river. Third Excelsior was deployed during the early part of 1862 to southern Maryland to keep the river open and suppress secessionist activity (The Illustrated London News).

The march was somewhat uneventful for Taylor’s men, which couldn’t be said for other Excelsior regiments. Much of Second Regiment started the march without enough rations for even one day. “The result can be imagined,” as Chaplain Joseph Twichell described it; “they had to get something to eat as best they could. At one time not more than two hundred men were in line, the rest being scattered over at least five miles of the road cooking pigs, turkeys and geese etc. which they had shot.”⁸ Second Regiment’s Colonel Hall was soon arrested on neglect charges over the ration debacle. But the march even caused friction between strong willed Sickles and Hooker. Hooker had intended the move into Maryland to serve as an infantry exercise and had ordered each regiment to take only one ambulance, the rest being left in Washington. While the First Brigade complied, Sickles’ men gathered all the ambulances they could find. Hooker reported they were used for “lazy soldiers, officers’ and women’s trunks and knapsacks to such an extent as to lead one to fear that if they reached camp at all, it would be with crippled horse and broken down ambulances.”⁹ While there were no charges filed, Sickles protested the accusation to McClellan, serving only to deepen the rift between the brigadier and his divisional commander.¹⁰

Meanwhile in Dunkirk efforts were underway to recruit the still missing Company H. A small article in the October 9 Fredonia Censor reported:

Since the summer of 1861, regimental officers had been back in western New York in search of men to form a new company, fill out existing companies, and join the regimental band. By October these efforts were complete and successful with Company H being mustered in on November 1, 1861, and a band in place (courtesy the Union Drummer Boy, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania).

Dunkirk was in the heart of western New York’s fertile recruiting territory, the stomping grounds of Captain Stevens and young David Parker. Young Lucius Jones, Jr., was among the first to join the reconstituted Company H. Denied enlistment in another regiment two months earlier because of his age and size, the smallish Jones was nonetheless accepted into Doyle’s legion and pronounced fit for duty. With his new uniform in hand, Lucius returned home seeking his father’s consent and to have his picture taken at the local Monroe’s photography rooms. It took Doyle nearly three weeks to raise his company, as many boys waited in Dunkirk’s Eastern Hotel, headquarters for the endeavor. Stephen Doyle, who had originally enrolled to serve as Taylor’s adjutant, was made captain of the new H, and Dan Loeb, the German speaking, bar-keeping sergeant from Stevens’ old militia unit, became second lieutenant. With his company filled by a generous helping of “big, stout fellows”¹² employed at Brook’s car shop, Doyle’s Company H was ready for the trip east.

The company complete, Doyle, Loeb, and the rest boarded the train for the trip to Baltimore. Arriving in Maryland, more than just a few of his men were “soaked with whiskey,”¹³ sick and played out. The next day Company H arrived in Washington and were promptly taken across the Potomac to Maryland where they camped a couple days while being issued muskets and their remaining gear. The 40-mile march down to Camp Wool and the rest of the regiment was not easy for these new men, who were unaccustomed to life in the field, but eventually they made it, many sick and spent. Despite the sorry condition of some, Arthur McKinstry was happy to see them:

With the march from Washington over, the regiment settled into camp just across the river from the Rebel batteries they had been sent to investigate. The main shipping channel was near the Virginia shore, forcing large vessels to avoid the river altogether while smaller craft escaped Rebel shot and shell by hugging the Maryland side. An exciting pastime of the boys was watching enemy gunners blaze away in vain at passing boats. “The river here is three miles across,” wrote Henry Taylor. “They fire at most every boat that goes by, but seldom do any execution, and the balls come over this side. Several have struck in a field and passed through a house close by the camp.”¹⁵ Soon after their arrival sometime on the 21st, a large, errant Rebel shell landed on the river bank near camp. The unexploded shell was collected by a guard and brought in. Officers inspected the missile, removed the cap, poured out a substantial amount of powder, doused it with water and set it aside. The shell soon fell into the hands of some bored, young enlisted men who used it as a plaything. The next day Private John Rouse of Company E took his turn with the shell. As he and his other Dunkirk mates played with it, the idea of pushing a smoldering ember or lit cigar into the fuse hole gained popularity. As Rouse shoved the ember in with his foot the bomb instantly exploded. Men were thrown about camp, peppered with fragments while others dove for cover. Rouse was killed almost immediately. A company sergeant, Michael Daly, was badly hurt and eventually transported to the hospital in Washington where his leg was amputated. Daly lay in Union Hospital for a month before dying on November 24. In all, ten Company E men were hurt playing with the Rebel shell. Martin Boyden was hit in the wrist but was soon seen “carrying his musket as defiantly as ever.”¹⁶

It was difficult for Colonel Taylor to discern the exact nature of the enemy batteries situated across the river. There was plenty of speculation as to the location and types of guns being used by the enemy but not much hard evidence. The area directly across the river from the Third Regiment was a five-mile or so stretch of shoreline between Neabsco Creek to the north and Chopawamsic Creek, located further south. Two other creeks flowed into the Potomac along this stretch, creating a number of points upon which the Rebels had actually or in some cases only reportedly placed guns. Earthen redoubts could be seen easily, but the cannons they contained could not. Often times the only evidence of a Confederate cannon’s location was a plume of smoke rising from the trees. When guns were seen, either with the naked eye or with field glasses, they were of the smaller, horse drawn, “field battery”¹⁷ type, not the large coastal guns that had the size and range to do real damage. After a few days Taylor reported that the Rebel guns seemed to be concentrated along a one-mile length of shore, ranging north from the Chopawamsic to Quantico Creek. Reporting to Sickles, Taylor pointed out that the batteries north of Quantico Creek at Freestone Point had been abandoned with the establishment of new ones further south. Where troops supporting these guns were camped was also a matter of some speculation. They couldn’t be seen directly, and only from the constant smoke rising above the timber could Taylor estimate their location. Any estimate of the size of the force supporting the guns was of course supposition.¹⁸ McKinstry, writing his “uncles,” said:

Over and above assisting engineer Williamson with his river survey, the boys of the regiment were kept busy rooting out enemies of the Union among the local citizenry, seizing suspicious property, and administering loyalty oaths just as they had done earlier during Potter’s expedition. Knowing who was a Rebel, who had Rebel sympathies or the exact depth of those sympathies often depended on who was asked. Third Excelsior was camped about one mile south of the home of Timothy Posey and his family, whose house lay about one mile inland from the river. Just days after arrival on Tuesday the 22nd, Taylor welcomed the master of a small navy steamer bringing word that his commodore wished Mr. Posey and others to be arrested, as Taylor saw it, “for no other reason that I could understand, than that they were suspected of entertaining secession sentiments.” The colonel declined to make the arrest.²⁰ But while Taylor may have felt no pressing need to arrest the Poseys, a short time later the entire family was arrested under orders from Hooker himself and the whole lot were carted off to Washington.²¹

The following day, a detail of men disguised as civilians were working with Capt. Williamson along the shore at Budd’s Ferry as they had regularly done. Throughout the day Rebel gunners lobbed shells at the group and by late afternoon had decided to take further action. Around 4 p.m. a steamer loaded with soldiers set out across the Potomac toward Maryland, heading for a bayou just above Budd’s Ferry, their target being Williamson and his work party. As they approached, the alarm was sounded and the entire regiment formed a line of battle along a bluff on Posey’s plantation. Company E was deployed as skirmishers down by the water’s edge. Not one to miss their first real action, Martin Boyden, still nursing a wounded wrist, turned out and, using an aiming technique of his own contrivance, gamely fired. The exchange of musketry between the skirmishers and the shipboard Rebels was heated as Company E’s buck and ball churned the water and peppered the tug. Thinking better of the endeavor, the steamer reversed course, chugging back to Virginia.²²

A week passed with Taylor’s regiment and the entire Excelsior Brigade held in a state of readiness. Hooker had been anxious for a significant move south against the enemy and was anticipating the go-ahead from McClellan at any time. But with the recent retirement of army head General Winfield Scott, and McClellan’s subsequent rise to army chief, there were now too many distractions for Little Mac to entertain a move by Hooker.²³ With no signals, and with no move imminent, the division began preparing winter quarters. Camping on the Posey farm had one big disadvantage for Emerson Merrell, David Parker and the rest: it was close enough to Reb batteries to receive daily shellings from across the river and the occasional enemy steamer. This spot would never do as semi-permanent, winter quarters. By early November, winter quarters were established further inland, away from annoying artillery, closer to Liverpool Point, at a place they’d call Camp Wool.

At Camp Wool the boys commenced to cut down trees for their winter huts. These were fairly large structures, capable of housing upwards of ten men. They were circular log cabins on the bottom with the regiment’s Sibley tents serving as the top portion. Henri LeFevre-Brown of Co. B described their quarters thus: “log houses containing good fireplaces, and covered with tents, were erected and everything made as comfortable as possible for the winter.”²⁴ Arthur McKinstry took particular pride in the work of western companies:

Indeed, so advanced was the design of the quarters in which Arthur dwelt that he said, “Our company officers wisely excused us from a good deal of drill that we might complete these arrangements.” So once the model was perfected, others might steal their design and build them in “like style.”²⁶

November was cold. No one reported snow, but they did write home of frost every morning. Emerson Merrell spent nearly the whole month of November sick with measles, eventually landing in the hospital. Writing home, Emerson explained how it was no wonder a soldier would stay sick in the army:

For the sick, relief was on the way. A hospital built of logs was under construction, intended to improve the lot of the infirmed. Also underway was the construction of a regimental bakery whose fresh bread would help fortify sick and healthy alike.

With the regiment encamped out of range of Rebel artillery at Camp Wool, companies now rotated through picket duty at the various points on the river. This put them in better position to observe Confederate activity, interdict bellicose communications and get shot. “You can hardly form an idea how efficiently the river is guarded,” wrote McKinstry. “In addition to the pickets which are of themselves impassable, the whole river is alive with boats as soon as darkness falls.”²⁸ The Potomac Flotilla kept a close watch on gun emplacements on the Virginia shore. Some new batteries drew a quick response from one or two Union gunboats while others received attention from nearly the entire fleet: “If the rebels undertake to start fortifications upon the forbidden ground, one or two gun-boats slide gracefully into the bay, and down comes a perfect hail of eight inch shell and fixed ammunition, which operation is the precursor of a very active stampede inland.”²⁹ Sometimes Rebel gunners would hold their ground, resulting in a pitched duel between the Virginia batteries, Federal gunboats, and Yankee cannon posted on the Maryland side. These contests prompted cheers from the various sides depending on the success or failure of each round. George Shelly describes his first experience at one such session:

Nothing recommended the location of Camp Wool except its distance from enemy batteries, for the ground was sandy and poor for cultivation and there were few inhabitants. Because of the poor roads, Hooker immediately decided his division would be supplied by boat rather than overland by wagon. Traveling the forty miles from Washington to his command over such tracks would only serve to wear out wagons and men alike. Small steamers could bring supplies right to his division, saving men and equipment. Any subsequent trips to Washington would be done on horseback, a trip not without its own hazards.³¹

David Parker became the man in charge of fetching the regiment’s mail even before settling into winter quarters. Starting at Camp Caldwell and now at Camp Wool, Parker rode daily to Washington, often accompanied by the courier from the First Regiment. Eventually mail would be carried by steamer to camp, but until then David rode the 70 miles round-trip every day. Secessionists frequently came down from Baltimore to this stretch of Maryland to cross into Virginia and join the Confederate army. Parker had been warned repeatedly about traveling after dark because of possible encounters with men eager to harm a lone Yankee rider. One night Parker returned late and was close enough to see the lights of camp less than two miles off. As the road passed through an undergrowth of bushes on both sides, a band of three men jumped out, guns in hand, commanding the 18-year-old to stop. With no intention of surrendering, David touched his mount with his heels, springing the mare forward. One marauder grabbed at the horse’s bridle but couldn’t find purchase. He lunged next at David’s foot in equal futility as the mare lurched away. With one Rebel reeling, the others leveled their weapons. Shotgun blasts ripped the night as Parker sped off. Alerted by the commotion, a detachment of cavalry hurried to the scene, but after some time combing the brush, failed to find Parker’s assailants.³²

Winter had yet to begin by early November, and already the boys were getting sick and bored. One brigade colonel, tired of waiting for McClellan and Hooker, decided to take matters into his own hands. Colonel Charles Graham of Fifth Excelsior rounded up a cutter from the Potomac Flotilla and with 400 hand-picked men crossed the river on November 9 into Virginia. In dead of night the expedition sailed to Mathias Point. Meeting no resistance, Graham’s men burned some forage, scouted enemy emplacements, shot at some pickets and returned with two secessionist prisoners. Sickles was pleased with the initiative, Hooker far less so. But since the operation had come off without incident, Hooker forgave the breach in discipline. McClellan, however, was furious a subordinate would undertake such a mission without approval and promptly placed Graham under arrest,³³ which only served to confirm many men’s suspicions that McClellan was all bluster and no fight.³⁴

The day after Graham’s foray, Thaddeus Lowe, the Yankee aeronaut, arrived on a naval tug, putting in at the mouth of Mattawoman Creek, about five miles north of Budd’s Ferry. The arrival of Lowe and his balloon at Hooker’s camp was exciting and temporarily relieved the boredom. Hooker dismissed the value in balloons, yet Sickles was intrigued and was among the first to go up. The brigadier eventually made several 1,000-foot ascents with Lowe in his little three-man basket. “We have balloon reconnaissances, and it seems to tantalize the rebels not a little to see the aeronauts so coolly and securely overlooking their operations,” described one Company D private. Despite coming under frequent Rebel artillery fire, “too distant to stand any chance of hitting it,”³⁵ Lowe continued to fly, pinpointing the location and disposition of enemy troops well inland of the Potomac shore. Once presented with detailed maps produced from the sketches of balloon-borne artists, even the reluctant Hooker came to appreciate the new technology.³⁶

Deficiencies in government-issued gear were becoming more evident as winter drew near. For Arthur McKinstry and his fellow westerners, used to being swaddled by caring kin and kind, Federal issue was a big step down:

Though the regiment was well established and already in the field, there were still plenty of men eager to join the fight, specifically with the Excelsior Brigade. By late fall there were enough men, mostly from New York City with sprinklings from around the state, to form an eleventh company within Third Excelsior. So on November 14, officers were selected and Company L was added to the ranks. There was no captain at first, but rather two first lieutenants, James Cormack and John Graham. David Jones would serve as second lieutenant.

By the end of November there were big changes in the division. Hooker’s division was the smallest in the army, and on the 28th a third brigade was added. The “Jersey Blues” consisted of the Fifth through Eighth New Jersey Volunteers and were under the command of Colonel Samuel H. Starr. These four regiments arrived in camp during the first week in December along with some artillery, which was a welcome addition. The strengthening of the division did not mean a move was imminent, however. On the contrary, McClellan had already decided that nothing could be accomplished in the face of winter’s rain and mud. So Hooker would stay put.³⁸

There were other changes, too, that would affect the Excelsiors. During the fall, the Federal government called upon the loyal states to meet their quota of troops. This again raised the question of who might claim Sickles’ brigade. With this new call for troops looming, Governor Morgan, apparently reconciled his being out-maneuvered by Sickles, claimed the Excelsior Brigade for New York. Thus on December 5, the secretary of war issued orders that went into effect on December 11, re-designating Sickles’ regiments as New York State Volunteers, no longer United States Volunteers. From now on, the five regiments of the Excelsior Brigade would officially be designated the 70th thru 74th New York State Volunteers. Col. Taylor and his boys, being the third regiment, were thenceforth the 72nd New York. “It is now a certain fact that we are recognized as the 72nd N.Y. Volunteers. This is substantially a triumph to Gov. Morgan, and an embarrassment to Gen. Sickles,” viewed Arthur McKinstry. “In their personal quarrel I can sympathize but little,” Arthur added, “but the result of it is evidently beneficial to us. If we were classed U.S. Volunteers, we should in all probability be retained to garrison disaffected localities,” and not sent home until all volunteers had been discharged and “the very last drudgery of warfare accomplished.”³⁹ Aside from the change of designation, there was also a big change within the regiment. Captain James Brown, responsible for recruiting Company B, resigned on November 5 to become the colonel of a regiment still forming, the 100th New York. Filling Brown’s spot, 34-year-old first lieutenant Darwin Willard was promoted to captain that same day.

Defending lower Maryland from Confederate invasion and rounding up dissident troublemakers wasn’t the only task undertaken by the newly renamed 72nd New York. Lincoln had ordered Hooker’s men to assist in any way possible to ensure that the upcoming Maryland state elections were conducted fairly. Leading up to the balloting, certain candidates were arrested for secessionist leanings, while in another incident, a troop of Indiana cavalry broke up a political barbecue held by Southern sympathizers. Federal troops were also posted at various polling places around the state. The election’s result: a heavier than expected pro–Union turnout, with a surprisingly small anti-administration vote.⁴⁰

After months in the disaffected locality of southern Maryland, many of the men’s beliefs about the institution of slavery were changing, especially among those who had never seen a Negro until joining the army. The popular image of “the Southern planter with his smiling family of domestics around him, over whom he exercises so mild and benevolent a sway,” as Arthur McKinstry writes, was merely an illusion. “This picture, so charming in the perspective, upon nearer approach, fades away into a dirty-looking farmer, in a coarse suit of clothes … and a ragged parcel of chattels, who look eagerly to us for one ray of hope for their delivery.”⁴¹ During earlier contacts, many slaves saw the Excelsiors as their emancipators and flocked to them, only to be disappointed when, under orders, the New Yorkers sent them away. As the months wore on, an uneasy status quo was maintained. Slaves were increasingly an issue that required attention, one that caused yet more friction between Sickles and Hooker. McClellan had issued strict orders allowing slave-owners to enter camps in search of their human property and retrieve the slaves if found, an order Hooker obeyed. This order’s observance in the regimental camps was a different story, however. New England and New York men were particularly unwelcoming of slave hunters, frequently barring them access to camp; Sickles even went so far as to countermand Hooker’s decree and ordered slave hunters out.⁴² One Third Excelsior man stated flatly, “It is not our business to return slaves,”⁴³ and men of the regiment took a measured approach:

Hooker increasingly found himself in a no-win situation, pulled three ways between the orders of McClellan, the reality of the camps, and the edicts of radical Senate Republicans who wanted to make it a crime for Federal officers to return runaways. An anecdote told in the camps illustrates Hooker’s eventual, less than wholehearted cooperation with the slave-owners. It would seem a group of slave-hunters came to Hooker demanding access per McClellan’s orders to the camp of a Massachusetts regiment where their slaves reportedly hid. “Yes I have seen the order,” Hooker supposedly replied, “and if your slaves are there and wish to go with you, and the Massachusetts boys are content, I have no objections. But if they refuse and a row occurs over there, I fear you will get into the guardhouse—the same as any other marauders.”⁴⁵ But when the hunters asked if Hooker would not apprehend the slaves for them, Hooker responded, “I am Brigadier General United States Volunteers, and no nigger catcher. I was born and bred in New England.”⁴⁶

Not every anti–Union man in southern Maryland was necessarily a slave owner, and the line between secessionist sympathizer and an outright rebel was often a fuzzy one. Oaths of loyalty were frequently administered throughout the population. Though these oaths were readily recited, both soldiers and citizens alike knew mere words weren’t usually enough to change a person’s politics. “The people here are all secessionist, and it is only the presence of an overpowering Union force which cause them to feign loyalty,” confided a local Union man. “They are all ready to take the oath of allegiance; that doesn’t hurt them a bit; but just so soon as they think they can help Jeff Davis, so soon their dispatches will be sent on.”⁴⁷ Among the oath takers were the Posey family, who were allowed to return home after a stint in a Washington prison and recitation of appropriate pledges. Hooker made amends with the family, whose land he occupied, paid them a handsome stipend for use of their parlor, and even wrote a letter to Washington on their behalf requesting the return of some personal papers. While Mr. Posey had seemingly ceased any dubious activities, his wife and daughter continued their unmannerly habit of secretly signaling to unknown accomplices across the river with looking glass by day and lantern at night.

As the wet and muddy winter wore on, the men of the 72nd N.Y. went about their routine duties as best they could. Not all was well within the regiment or the brigade. Men continued to get sick, and many were not as lucky as Emerson Merrell. “More die from disease than from battle,”⁴⁸ wrote Charles Gould. By the end of the year several within Company I had died; Robert Maxwell lasted four months after enlisting while Robert Penny died after only two months of service. While all companies within the regiment suffered, these early deaths by disease hit the rural western companies of B, I, and the like harder than city-raised companies C and K. Perhaps the close quarters of city dwelling served to vulcanize these men to the rigors of army life more than the wide-open spaces enjoyed by Chautauqua and Chenango county farmers. Arthur McKinstry, who frequently updated his hometown readers on the condition of convalescing western men, offered his thoughts about the disparity: “The health of the Metropolitan companies is still better than ours, for the fellows who used to sleep on coal boxes, and who never owned a decent suit in their lives, are better fed and clothed, and in some instances, better lodged than when at home.”⁴⁹ The frequent passing of comrades set against the dispassionate routine of army life struck Company B man James Hall:

Jesse L. Walker enlisted with Company E and is shown here wearing the New York State jacket, the typical uniform of New York troops. Walker was wounded at Chancellorsville and mustered out with the regiment in July of 1864 (courtesy the U.S. Army Heritage and Education Center).

City companies were losing men too, not to disease but to desertions, especially Company K. Desertions were occurring throughout the regiment, to be sure, but before the end of 1861, fully eleven men had deserted Company K. Some Company K deserters such as Thomas Carroll and Humphrey Fisher left only two weeks after enlisting. Whether these two enlisted for the bonus money or to avoid prison, they probably never intended to see the thing out. Whatever the reasons, K’s losses represented more than ten percent of the company’s numbers, and they had yet to see combat.

Sickles was frequently absent from camp throughout the winter. Congress had yet to approve his appointment to brigadier, and there was cause for worry. A bloc of radical Republican senators had serious doubts about the aspiring “General” Sickles. Before the war, Congressman Sickles had been an outspoken, uncompromising Democrat, and these radical Republican questioned the advisability of entrusting such a large command to such an “otherwise-minded” man. Unscrupulous partisans and some newspapers feared “troops raised by Sickles or other Democrats would march over to Jeff Davis in the first battle in which they were engaged.”⁵² So Dan worked the halls of Congress prospecting for votes he’d need later to win confirmation.⁵³

With Sickles gone there was growing dissatisfaction in the 72nd New York’s winter camp with their absentee brigadier. Like Hooker, who was suspicious of political generals, some of Taylor’s officers were also apprehensive, while men such as Arthur McKinstry took a more practical view:

A petition was eventually circulated within Third Excelsior asking the regiment be transferred to a brigade commanded by a more experienced officer. While the names of the signatories or who initiated it are lost to history, reportedly almost every line officer in the regiment signed the document. Certainly the veteran men among the field and staff officers, along with the senior captains, may have found Sickles’ absenteeism, personal style, and dearth of military knowledge wanting and may have sought a commander with more martial fortitude. Perhaps with a large portion of the 72nd N.Y. coming from the substantially Republican-leaning western counties, the notion of a deficient Sickles may have found a fonder reception there compared with regiments raised from Dan’s New York City bastion. Had there been any Sickles loyalists within the 72nd, they would have surely been the Gothamites. Captain Isaac Chadwick was a New York City machinist prior to the war and raised Company C, while Captain John Austin had been a clerk at Washington Market and recruited Company K. Presumably both Chadwick and Austin knew Sickles or knew of him and may have declined to sign any petitions viewed as damaging. No matter who actually signed the petition, the men appreciated Sickles’ energy in forming the brigade, and there is no evidence the petition’s authors schemed to derail Dan’s appointment to general. These men had come to fight, and if Sickles was only capable of “policing a Maryland highway,”⁵⁵ then they wanted out. Sickles was aware of dissension within the 72nd but felt “everywhere in the Brigade—except for a fraction of the 3rd Regt—there is the sharpest possible solicitude for my confirmation.”⁵⁶

Sickles wasn’t just having problems with Third Excelsior that winter; the 71st New York (Second Excelsior) seemed on the verge of open war with itself. Following Col. Hall’s arrest for his neglect of rations during their October march from Washington, Lt. Col. H.L. Potter took command of the regiment; most assumed Hall would be cashiered and Potter made permanent commander. During Hall’s absence, many officers voiced support of Colonel Hall and their displeasure with Lieutenant Colonel Potter; some even resigning over the issue. Choosing sides between “Hall sympathizers” and “Potter men” grew more contentious when at the end of November Hall was released and returned to command. By the time of his return, battle lines had been drawn, with most of the regiment evenly split. Hall and Potter bickered furiously throughout the winter while officers on both sides preferred a variety of charges against each other. Events reached a head following an afternoon parade witnessed and applauded by General Hooker. It was now that men of the 71st N.Y. decided it was a good time for a spree. Drinking started early in Potter’s tent and picked up steam as hours passed, unhindered even by the presence of several ladies. As revelers left Potter’s tent, they stopped by Hall’s quarters long enough to hurl insults, which brought forth a group of Hall supporters, starting a free-for-all fight involving nearly the entire camp. In the end several men were badly injured, with both Hall and Potter having new charges pending and awaiting courts-martial. Disgusted, Sickles recommended Hooker bar both men from camp. He further requested the regiment be reduced to battalion status under command of its major and combined with the 70th New York (First Excelsior). Ultimately the regiment kept its integrity, and Hall and Potter kept their posts, with animosity between the two continuing.⁵⁷

While Second Excelsior tore itself apart, Taylor and his officers found workable solutions to discipline issues. Drunk and marauding soldiers from throughout the division were the bane of the local citizenry; the depredations fell upon secessionist and loyalist alike. Taylor had taken a firm stand early on against drunkenness and other vices, and now here in Maryland the restraint instilled in the regiment began to tell. “Some of our officers have been sent to Piscataway to examine the claims of many people who have been injured by the robberies committed by our soldiers when they passed through,” wrote McKinstry home, adding, “about $1,400 had been demanded, not one of which had been charged to the 3d Regt.… Our own regiment had won the good opinion of all on account of its sobriety, good order, and neatness.”⁵⁸ Indeed Taylor had turned Third Excelsior into the class of the brigade if not the entire division, winning accolades from Hooker as to appearance and precision of drill. Arthur elaborated further on Taylor’s handling of the regiment in a December 3 letter:

Of all the deficiencies hitherto endured, on December 7 the lack of decent weaponry was finally resolved. “The French rifles have come this evening, and now we have a really serviceable arm,” wrote 34-year-old George Shelly of Company D, adding, “we shall feel disposed to take better care of it than we have done heretofore. These Harper Ferry guns are a miserable thing, and I would not have one about me unless for shooting pigeons.”⁶⁰ Though the record of this rifle’s issuance is lost, given the men’s enthusiasm for the piece, it is likely they received a Belgian-made copy of the French Model 1859. This .61-caliber piece accepted the Minié ball and was considered on a par with the ’61 Springfield; it was widely imported for the use of Federal troops. Rifle being in hand, a notice was soon posted on the regimental bulletin board announcing a shooting competition scheduled for Christmas Day. Sponsored by the three senior officers, the prize would be a $50 gold medal. The target was specified as being six feet high by 22 inches wide at a range of 300 yards. The ten best men of each company would compete. With no private practice allowed, the captains immediately set their companies to work. Many were able to register hits at 100 yards, but only the top marksmen did “much execution”⁶¹ at 250. Christmas arrived, but the shooting match had to be postponed until New Year’s. Without the excitement of the big match, the boys settled into their cabins for a more somber holiday. The men enjoyed a holiday pudding or oyster stew. Many within the regiment appreciated a supply of new uniform jackets, which were a big improvement over previous shoddy ones. Despite receiving a batch of good shirts, there was still a problem. “Now we get very nice summer shirts and drawers of white cotton,” wrote Arthur McKinstry. “They are very good, but I must say they are very unseasonable and by no means the thing for a winter campaign.”⁶²

Expectantly on New Year’s Day the regiment assembled for the shooting contest with the representatives of each company “marched out to compete for the golden prize. There was a good deal of excitement, and bets ran high,”⁶³ recorded Arthur McKinstry. Delaware County’s Company I seemed most confident that one of their numbers would wear the “yellow metal.”⁶⁴ Arthur relates the scene:

Each man fired three shots from whatever position he wished. Smoke, bullets, and the sound of judging filled the air for three hours before a winner was declared. At evening parade, Sergeant William Post of Company D was called out and presented the trophy by Colonel Taylor; it bore the inscription “Presented by the Field Officers of the 3d Reg. Excelsior Brigade, U.S. Volunteers, to _________ the best marksman. Dec. 25th 1861.” The medal had the likeness of Washington on the reverse. Almost immediately, Post became the subject of good-natured taunts from disappointed competitors, “who have all along been of the opinion that ‘the Chautauqua element was the ruination of the 3d Reg.’ and are now more convinced of it than ever.”⁶⁶

By January the routines of army life had become ingrained into former farmers, shop keepers, craftsmen and coal-box sleepers. While some complained, they came to view drill as part of army life and accepted it with a certain amount of stoic pride. “We used to think two or three hours drill with knapsacks a pretty tough exercise,” reflected Arthur. “Now we consider it a mere bagatelle, not worth mention. If any of your readers have any curiosity to try that drill, let them fasten a bushel of wheat upon their shoulders, a half-gallon jug of water and a day’s provision at their side, and shoulder a crowbar of medium weight, for a walk of about three hours duration.”⁶⁷

Men were becoming inured to army life, and without the immediate dangers of combat, some saw it as little different from civilian life. But for many the most disheartening part of the military was the chronic and wanton disrespect for the Sabbath. For men raised in the bosom of the church who strove to lead a moral and Christian life, to work, drill, or march on the Lord’s day of rest was inexcusable. Letters home bristled with complaints about the irreverence they were forced to endure. Owen Street described what his friend James Hall suffered while corporal:

James Hall described his moral plight of having no Sabbath while at the same time being surrounded by wickedness:

Others enjoyed more wholesome pursuits while in winter camp. Among these less base amusements were dominoes, chess, checkers and cards, which served to “help the days to drag their slow length along.”⁷⁰ Newspaper reading and letter writing of course served to “guile away the evening hours.”⁷¹ On the street of Company D, participation in the Pioneer Debating Club took hold. Covering topics of general interest, the group made every effort to keep things friendly. “The strictest rule of parliamentary debate are enforced, and owing to the exclusion of politics, and other subjects which are likely to awaken latent prejudice, the most marked courtesy and absence of personality prevails,”⁷² explained McKinstry. Subjects for debate included these: “Is military service necessarily demoralizing…. Resolved, That the Pulpit exercises a greater influence than the Press,”⁷³ and “Resolved, That man is the architect of his own fortunes.”⁷⁴ Disputants were chosen without regard to their personal preference on a subject, causing some contestants, as Arthur observed, “to take up a train of argument, and follow it so keenly as to cause a material change in their own opinions.”⁷⁵

Liquor, of course, was another avenue many sought to entertain themselves. Officers went after not only intemperate soldiers but also local peddlers who found ready customers at $1 per bottle. Locals moving goods by boat were a common sight on the Potomac and its small tributaries. It was unsafe to be caught with whiskey, so secret stashes were hidden during the day and then trotted out at night. Regimental scouting parties combed likely hiding places, hoping to find such stashes, smashing as many as eight dozen bottles in a single cache. One January day Lieutenant Hugh Hinman of Company D and his party of six apprehended one such peddler with only four bottles on hand. Arthur McKinstry picks up the story:

As winter moved into early spring, the pace of life in camp picked up. Many of the men anticipated momentous things, and an end to the rebellion come campaigning season. Charles Gould wrote of his expectations in a letter home:

George Shelly echoed Gould’s anticipation. “There are now 15,000 men on this side of the river, swearing, scolding, praying, and in every way showing much impatience to cross over, and wipe out the rebels. This feeling assumes a very malignant form, when the boom of the rebel’s guns is followed by the hissing sound of the shell intended for the destruction of some unarmed trader.”⁷⁸ This malignant form was increasingly laid at the feet of Sickles. As the months rolled by, news of fights and Union victories elsewhere brought men to the conclusion that they were serving in a military backwater, a second-rate theater of operation that would never see any serious action. For men eager to fight, Sickles’ lack of military experience was the undoubted cause for their plight; the troops serving under him seemed doomed to while away their enlistments in some unheralded corner of the war.

Hooker, however, continued pestering McClellan for the go-ahead for a serious offensive across the river into Virginia. With Lincoln’s growing impatience over McClellan’s lack of movement, it was looking like Hooker might get his wish. McClellan told Hooker to put his plan in writing, a clear sign McClellan was warming to the idea. But when submitted a few days later the proposal proved far too ambitious, requiring a second division and complicated multiple amphibious landings. There was uncertainty about the shoreline chosen, and the plan likely needed McClellan himself to supervise. After some delays the plan was shelved. Despite the cancellation, throughout the late winter and very early spring, there were a number of small scouting missions across the Potomac giving commanders a truer picture of what lay ahead. When time came for a move, they’d be ready.⁷⁹

As the 72nd emerged from winter quarters, it was clear that the addition of an eleventh company would not be permanent. On December 15, the same day John Graham was promoted to captain, eleven men of Company L deserted; the reason, whether because of or in spite of Graham’s promotion, is unknown. Company L added a few men after the mass desertion, but enrollment never reached much above 80 men. On February 7 the officers were dismissed from service and allowed to do as they pleased, while enlisted men were transferred throughout the remaining ten companies. As of February 25, Company L ceased to exist.

The following day, Lieutenant John Sanford of Company I, for whom Charles Gould was servant, performed the sad task of composing a letter to Hanna Thomas, Charles’ sister:

Indeed, the frequent and seemingly random deaths from camp disease, about which Charles Gould had often written home, had now claimed him.

In early March the Rebels actively kept huge fires burning day and night. By March 9 it was clear the Confederates were evacuating their positions across from Budd’s Ferry and were destroying everything that could not be moved. Parties from the regiments conducted missions across the river to determine the extent of Rebel withdrawal and to curtail the activities of Rebels still remaining.⁸¹ On March 19 it was the 72nd’s turn to cross the river.

The mission fell to Captain Robert Johnson’s Company I and would take 50 men, Emerson Merrell among them. Fifty left camp near 11 p.m. marching down to Liverpool Point, where they boarded a small steamer. Their mission was to track down and capture a rebel spy who had been running mail across the river. This spy was reportedly a lieutenant in the Confederate army, and there was a $5,000 reward for his apprehension. The steamer cruised downriver about 15 miles before landing Johnson and his men on Virginia soil. As Company I “scoured the country”⁸² for the spy, three Reb cavalrymen appeared; after discovering Yankee infantry, they turned back. Johnson’s men fired on the mounted men but missed. Unable to locate the spy, they returned unmolested to the steamer and the short voyage home. Their take for the night according to Emerson: “2 niggers and 20 turkeys, 1 revolver and a 15 inch bowie knife.”⁸³

The next night Captain Darwin Willard took 100 men from companies A and B over for a reconnaissance near Aquia Creek, where there were reported to be two pieces of artillery and about 200 Reb soldiers. Marching through the dark and rain to Liverpool Point, Willard’s men embarked near 9 p.m. on the gunboat Satellite, eventually pulling away from the dock two hours later. Satellite was a small side-wheeler that was part of the Potomac Flotilla and a common sight on the river. The night was exceedingly dark and foggy, compelling the ship’s master to stop, set anchor, and wait for it to lighten. After a two-hour wait, Satellite continued on to near Boyd’s Hole, where the 100 men transferred to small boats and finally went ashore near 3 a.m. The first boat landed near a small picket of enemy cavalry. Moving toward the pickets, the uninitiated men of Company B felt a rush of excitement as bullets whizzed through the air and splintered a nearby fence. With Willard’s men returning fire, the Reb horsemen fell back half a mile. With his entire force now on Virginia soil, Willard took his men forward. The 72nd men continued to advance in the face of light resistance from Reb pickets and followed the enemy into the woods.⁸⁴ With the New Yorkers about a mile inland, Willard’s skirmishers could see the enemy camps in full alert, while straight ahead a full regiment of Confederate infantry had formed into a line of battle. In the face of such a large force, Willard called for withdrawal back to the boats. It was a mile back to the river, and the boys engaged in some foraging along the way. When the 100 reached the river and the safety of Satellite, it was daylight. The boys reached home around noon with no further incident and no injuries, with “everybody thoroughly tired but well satisfied with the trip,”⁸⁵ declared Co. B man Henri LeFevre-Brown.

These encounters improved the regiment’s spirits after a wet, cold winter. “Our troops are raising hell with the rebels and we are all anxious to lock arms with them,”⁸⁶ Emerson wrote home. While the boys were certainly learning to become soldiers, such small and easy encounters with the enemy may have given them a false sense of confidence regarding the rigors of a bigger, truly pitched battle.

But the battle for Sickles’ generalship was not going well. On March 17 the Senate had voted to disapprove Dan’s nomination to brigadier. Despite the trips to Washington, the lobbying, and the courting of votes, it seemed radical Republicans in the Senate as well as Governor Morgan back in New York had had the last laugh. Hooker acted quickly, issuing Special Order 132, which removed Sickles and placed Nelson Taylor in command of the brigade. Dan was livid; he had come too far and worked too hard to be denied now. Claiming the order was illegal based on his seniority within the brigade, Sickles refused to obey and fired off letters to both McClellan and Lincoln. Pending a verdict from higher authorities, Dan was allowed to remain at his post, creating more than just a little uncertainty. McKinstry reflected on Sickles’ plight:

By April 1 activity in camp was reaching a climax. Orders had been received to evacuate the sick and wounded to Washington and prepare to break camp.⁸⁸ A big move was imminent, but the forays into Virginia would continue.

A detachment of 250 men prepared to move on the 2nd under the direction of Lieutenant Colonel Moses, with similar sized details being readied from each Excelsior regiment. In all about 1,500 men were crossing the river. Lieutenant Colonel Charles Burtis of the 74th N.Y. would command the men, while Sickles went to command the operation.⁸⁹ Stafford Court House was the objective. The various detachments boarded boats that night for the long ride down-river. Upon landing, the Excelsiors formed a line of march and proceeded inland. Within a mile of the town, Sickles’ men encountered enemy pickets, which were quickly routed. With the New Yorkers approaching, Confederate troops set fire to their camp and stores, burning anything of value ahead of the invading Yankees. Soon a number of enemy cavalry drew up in line of battle on a hill just beyond town. As the bulk of Sickles’ force advanced slowly forward, a company of Zouaves (most likely from the 73rd N.Y.) was sent around the hill. Private Talmon Bookhout, another Delhi man with Company I, described the rest of the fight in a letter home:

Hooker’s orders were to only scout enemy positions, so Sickles called off the fight and withdrew back towards the river. Withdrawing through town, men vented their aggressions on the “secessia”⁹¹ there, destroying, among other things, a large piano, which was “smashed in a thousand pieces.”⁹² The expedition’s loot included seven prisoners, 15 horses, some pistols, sabers and some “valuable”⁹³ papers. The men considered the night’s work a success, coming out of it in good shape with only three men wounded.

Sickles and his 1,500 made it back to camp on the 5th. Within hours orders arrived that all had been expecting: instructions to leave Camp Wool and begin packing onto transport steamers waiting for them at Liverpool Point.⁹⁴ Sickles was satisfied; his men were turning into real soldiers. He’d just completed three successful missions into Virginia and faced an upcoming campaign season sure to cover all with glory; perhaps there was still hope for Sickles’ generalship. But another letter had arrived, one whose contents were devastating: Sickles was officially relieved of command of Excelsior Brigade.

All of the appeals had been exhausted, and Hooker needed to put Sickles behind him and move on. Hooker believed Sickles was unfit for command and, with plenty of unseemly intrigues to Dan’s credit; any higher-ups were reluctant to rescue him. The April 5 note from Hooker’s headquarters left no doubt, Dan was to immediately depart the brigade and turn command over to Taylor. Crushed, Dan retired to a cabin aboard the steamer Elm City, which he had used as his headquarters, and on April 6 penned a defiant yet hopeful farewell to his brigade just as the men of Taylor’s 72nd N.Y. loaded themselves onboard:

In the confusion of loading, many men were unaware of the news, and fewer still were in attendance for Dan’s farewell address. Sickles left the ship and headed for Washington. He loved being general, so it was off to the capital to find what strings were left to pull in order to reclaim his stars. As for the men he left behind, those who cared were disheartened but had little time to dwell on it. Colonel Graham of the 70th N.Y., and Sickles’ longtime friend, resigned in protest, leaving the regiment in the hands of Lt. Col. Burtis. But most of the men believed Sickles could take care of himself; they could sense something big was awaiting them at the end of this steamer voyage, and they looked forward, bursting with anticipation. “I think we will soon find ourselves in business…,” wrote Pvt. Bookhout, “…and that is just what we want, if we have got to fight we may as well do it first as last. I would like to wade in secession blood for one week, then I think I would be satisfied.”⁹⁶