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Page 35
On the afternoon of the 27th we marched some seven or eight miles, and
encamped at night in Oyster Point, about two miles from Harrisburg.
Sunday! the 28th of June. My first Sunday with the regiment. No rumors
of the enemy reach us, and to us privates the prospect is of a quiet
day. The boys gather round the chaplain for divine service. And as for a
few minutes we renew our connection with civilization, and, amid stacked
arms, tents, camp fires, and the paraphernalia of war, sing psalms and
hymns, and listen to the chaplain's prayer, I decide that this surpasses
all luxury possible in camp. I shall never forget that 'church.'
But no Sunday in camp. Hardly were the services concluded, when we went
forward a little to an orchard, and then line of battle again. This
performance of 'laying for a fight' which never came, had by this time
grown tame, in fact intolerably stupid, and I for one was growing tired
of sitting in silence, when boom! crash! a cannon shot in front of us,
the smoke visible too, curling above the woods, and showing how near it
had been fired. A smothered 'Ah!' and 'Now you've got it, boys,' went
through the ranks. It was no humbug this time. The rebels were shelling
the woods as they advanced.
But it appeared we were not to receive them at that spot, for suddenly
we were ordered off again, and marched across lots, to the destruction
of many a bushel of wheat, clear into the intrenchments in front of
Harrisburg. There for the remainder of the day we waited in line. Other
regiments, we knew not what, were near us in different positions. The
signal flags were waving, and officers galloping by constantly, of whom
the quartermaster was hailed with shouts of 'Grub, grub.'
That night my company and two others went out on picket, taking position
near our camp of the day before. In the morning we advanced a little to
a lane--a cobbler's stall was converted into headquarters, and the half
of the company not on duty went foraging for dinner. Pigs and chickens
were captured, and cooking began in the kitchen of a deserted house
close by. Apple butter, too, the prevalent institution in Pennsylvania,
was found in plenty. So the two halves of the company relieved each
other in standing guard and picnicking. Meantime, however, the rebels,
from the woods just in front, were paying their respects with two-inch
shell, which shrieked and crashed through the branches, bursting over
us, around us, and many of them altogether too near to be pleasant.
Moreover, by one of those blunders which cannot always be avoided, some
of our own men, mistaking us, opened fire on our rear; but to this a
stop was speedily put by a flag of truce, improvised from a ramrod and a
white handkerchief. We were allowed to fire only three or four volleys
in return. This skirmishing tries courage, I believe, more than a
pitched battle. To lie on the ground for hours, two or three miles in
front of your main body, ten feet from the nearest man, and be fired at
without firing yourself or making any noise, is a different thing from
standing in your place amid the throng and all the noise, excitement,
and enthusiasm of a battle, earnestly occupied in firing as fast as you
can. In a battle all the circumstances combine to produce high
excitement and drive fear out of a man, leaving room only for that kind
of courage properly called fearlessness or _intrepidity_, belonging to
men like Governor Pickens, 'born insensible to fear.' But the highest
grade of courage is that which, despite of fear, stands firm. That is
the courage of principle, of _morale_, as opposed to purely physical
courage. It is the last degree--at the next step we rise into heroism.
In the afternoon we were relieved by a Pennsylvania company, and as we
retired in full sight of the rebels, the rascals yelled at us, and gave
us several volleys, from which it is wonderful that every man escaped.
That evening we moved to the extreme rear, into Fort Washington, on the
bank of the river in front of Harrisburg. Here it was said our advance
work was over, and we were promised comfortable quarters and rest.
Any one nowadays can see a camp, but only one who has seen it can
understand how picturesque it is. The night scene at Harrisburg was
beautiful in the extreme. Behind us slept the city--we guarded it in
front, and the river rolled between. The moonlight, illuminating a most
exquisite scenery, between the foliage gave glimpses of that placid
stream, and shone upon the tents and bayonets of some six thousand men
within the formidable works; the expiring fires sent up wreaths of
smoke; grim guns looked over the ramparts down the gentle slope in front
and up the beautiful Cumberland Valley; and only the occasional call of
the sentry for the corporal of the guard broke the serene stillness.
Here were our friends of the 8th, and here we regained our knapsacks.
Many of them had been 'gone through,' and everything 'won.' The 56th and
22d New York, the 23d and 18th Brooklyn, besides others, were encamped
inside.
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