Recollections with the Third Iowa Regiment. Seymour D. Thompson
On the 10th of June, we, for the first time, saw ourselves as a regiment. The regiment was formed in the proper order of the companies, and marched in column of sections, through the principal streets of the city. We had no arms; and every company had its own style of uniform. Nevertheless, as we marched along, we caught, from the admiring glances of the citizens, an idea of our importance, and that such a sight as we presented was not to be seen every day, and that we were destined to play no unimportant part in the war for the Union.
On the 11th of June the people of Keokuk celebrated the obsequies of Senator Douglas. Of course the "military" had to take part in it. The three regiments were assembled, and following each other in their appropriate order, marched in column of platoons, to slow time, through the principal streets, and then through clouds of dust, and under a melting sun, away up the Mississippi to a point somewhere between Keokuk and Fort Madison. Here for the first time we got sight of a hearse, magnificently trimmed in black, into which a number of verdants were seen to peek, doubtless in expectation of getting a sight of Douglas. We were allowed to break ranks which was a great relief to us, as we expected to be compelled to stand in our places and undergo the infliction of an oration. The whole being over, the battalions were again formed and marched back to their quarters to quick time. The citizens, who rode in carriages, or walked on the green sward, pronounced this military display a grand affair; but the soldiers who had been compelled to keep the dusty road, going and coming, pronounced it an intolerable bore. Some went so far as to express the profane wish that the great senator had never been born.
At this time, the First Iowa was in camp near the city. The name of their camp was Ellsworth. Their mode of life was a great novelty to us, and the fact that such was soon to be ours, gave it an additional interest. Those sentinels, marching to and fro, so stern, so mute, lent to their little city an inhospitable air, which we were not at all pleased to see. All within ten feet of their beat was forbidden ground. Why could we not trespass upon it? At least we thought there could be no harm in allowing their own men to pass out and in when they pleased. The sentinel could not explain this. He wanted to see the boys have all the privileges they wished, but he must obey his orders. Then, with a shake of the head, he would hint that it was contrary to orders for a sentinel to talk on his beat, and pass on. What did all this signify? Their officers were "putting on style," we said, and the men were learning to be soldiers pretty easily. Well, we could not blame the boys. It was their duty to obey their orders, at all events.
Then there was the gate where stood Sentinel No. 1. Through this, all who went in or out were compelled to pass. And there stood the officer of the guard. How magnificently attired! If men's merits were to be judged by their appearance, we would have supposed him a hero of twenty battles. That Zouave cap, with the gold lace and bugle on it; that scarlet sash; those monstrous epaulettes;—how they dazzled! And then the neat fitting coat and pants. And what a full chest he had! "He must be a long-winded fellow," said we. And that we thought would help him if he should have any running to do, which was among the possibilities of war. And couldn't he swim though. Well, if such a bellows would not float a man, what would? A regiment of such fellows would float a bridge across the Mississippi. Perhaps the coat had something to do with it—who knew?
But we forgot to salute him. What daggers he looked at us! We asked him to let us pass in. "Where do you belong?" "To the Third Regiment." "What do you want here?" "To see some friends." "Sentinel, pass them in, Sir!"
It was indeed a novelty to most of us. The men and officers lived in square, white tents, slept on hay, and cooked their rations on fires built in holes dug in the ground. Most of the men were very communicative. A few would hold up their heads as if to say, "We have seen service; you are greenies." Of course some of us must have appeared very verdant to them. We plied all manner of questions, in reply to which they told us prodigious stories of what they had already seen, and suffered, for their country's sake. If we were to believe them, they were suffering greatly now. They had been in the service a month and a half, and the Government had furnished them no clothing and not a cent of pay! Besides, they were half-starved, and the rations provided them were not fit for a dog! And their officers treated them shamefully, too. We began to think so; for yonder was a captain drilling his men. They obeyed promptly; and, yet, at every command, he called them "devils-of-hell."
Their officers all dressed wondrous fine. If all officers wore such epaulettes, such bugles and such lace, we did not wonder that there was an advance in American gold. And when we saw that they were all exceedingly full-chested, like the stern lieutenant at the gate, we concluded that the coat did have something to do with it.
And when we went away, it was under the impression that those soldiers would fight, and that they could tell a few things which we did not know. We concluded, too, that their officers put on a good deal of style; and indeed, we said, ours were beginning to pattern after them. A soldier did not have many rights that a white man was bound to respect, any way. We were very willing, very patriotic then, but we had not learned to be contented with what we could neither prevent nor improve.
About two o'clock on the morning of June 12th, we heard a great tumult in the streets. It was the Second Regiment preparing to leave. They had received orders to advance into Missouri and take possession of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad which the rebels were attempting to destroy. All seemed to be greatly elated at the prospect before them. But amid the hurry of preparation, there was no time to talk.
The following afternoon the First Regiment left for the same destination. Their boys, like those of the Second, were jubilant in spirit. They went about the boat which was to take them away, singing a parody on "Dixie;" and the boat moved out amid enthusiastic cheers of a large throng of citizens. It would be our turn to leave next. We hoped it would be soon.
And now the Third Iowa were the only military occupants of Keokuk. Our quarters were in commodious and comfortable buildings. We were provided with blankets, warm enough, but of a very inferior quality, and plenty of clean hay to sleep on. For subsistence, we were turned over to the tender mercies of contractors whom Government paid for boarding men at the rate of two dollars and ten cents per week. It may be surmised that it was the chief ambition of some of these men to board us as cheaply as possible. At least we thought so.
We began to see a great and unpleasant difference between the state of things now and a month ago. Then the time passed like a holiday. We were preparing to leave for the war, and the people seemed to think they could not do too much to encourage and assist us. They idolized us as patriots, almost as heroes. We had hazarded all we possessed, they said, for our country's sake. We hence belonged to them. The stripling of seventeen by enlisting gave himself to the public. Everybody talked of him; admired, encouraged, praised. He was a noble lad; he had the brave heart of a man. More likely than not, half a dozen fair misses were ready to quarrel with each other on his account. Indeed, the ladies seemed to be unanimous in the opinion that "none but the brave deserve the fair." A young man who had not joined some company, without he had a very plain excuse, was nowhere among them. The soldier was "all in all;" the proud recipient of every favor, whether of money, advice, flattery, smiles or sighs. It would be surprising if these attentions did not lead us to form a very exalted opinion of our deserts. So it was. The people had humored us until when they handed us over to the Government, we were like spoiled children. We wanted to be humored still. At least, we looked upon ourselves as gentlemen, and thought the contractors should treat us as such. This they certainly did not do. It was bad enough, we thought, to compel us to eat on greasy tin plates and to drink our coffee out of cups of the same material; but to serve hair and brick-dust up to us in our soup, seemed decidedly out of place. At first we contented ourselves with dropping hints to the waiters that a reform in this matter would be agreeable; but seeing our hints unheeded we threw out admonitions, which were likewise a waste of words. Finally, two companies, D and F, indicated their displeasure, at their boarding houses, by turning up the tables, and pelting the waiters with beef bones. It seemed to some of our young ideas a glorious manifestation of the old Saxon spirit of liberty. At least, its results were salutary. In both cases it secured us a magna charta in the shape of a new boarding place with earthen dishes and palatable food.
It is doubtless true that under the impression that we were suffering useless hardships, our complaints were at times very unreasonable.