Note: This particular news article—a document written in 1861—includes terms and topics that may be offensive to many today. No attempt will be made to censor or edit 19th-century material to today’s standards.
April 30, 1861; The New York Herald
The following graphic and detailed account of the trip of the Seventh regiment is contained in a letter from a member of the regiment to a friend in this city:-
WASHINGTON, April 26, 1861.
FRIEND LEFERTSON—I suppose you will want to know how we got here. I could write a history about our journey.
Having left New York on Friday morning, it may seem strange to you that it takes, or took us, six days to come here. We had a fine time all along the New Jersey route; at every station crowds were drawn up to receive us by the booming of cannon, the goodbye of the old folks, little remembrances, such as rosettes, cards with red, white and blue ribbon attached, and all sorts of little things. We had a very pleasant trip all through to Philadelphia—we were there stopped.
It was our intention to proceed directly to Washington by rail; but the railroad company would not take us through. We heard of the attack made upon the Massachusetts and Philadelphia troops, and saw a party of Philadelphians return, all knocked and bruised. It raised our dander and made us eager to teach Baltimore a lesson; but as we could get there only by marching, we were obliged to go to Washington some other way.
The people of Philadelphia treated us very well—some of the citizens invited us to their houses to dinner. One poor widow woman opened her house and gave us bread and coffee, hot.
In the afternoon we were formed into line, and started for—we did not know where; but after marching three miles in a hot sun, we found ourselves at the river, where the steamer Boston had been chartered to receive us. She was provided with three days’ rations, consisting of beef and hard crackers and water; also with tin canteens and army pouches or haversacks, an oiled bag to contain provisions.
We sailed about five o’clock down the Delaware; left the dock amid the cheering of people, firing of canon, &c. A man of war in the stream manned her yards as we passed. We sailed down the Delaware river, and about nine o’clock, after we had had supper, which consisted of a piece of meat and a hard cracker, served up in pails, each man taking a chunk, putting in on his tin plate amid the clattering of knives and forks, we rolled ourselves up in our blankets, used our knapsacks for pillows, and laid ourselves on the soft downy planks of the Boston in regular style, the first man putting himself in position, and each man closing in with him. When we wanted to take a turn we would all have to wake up and turn together.
We woke up Sunday morning about five o’clock, and found ourselves on the briny deep, or Atlantic ocean. We were all very sober Sunday, commencing to sing psalms in the morning. We were all alone on the ocean, near an enemy’s land, and did not know but that we would not again see those friends who were at that very time at the same service with us. Dr. Weston, our chaplain, performed the service. He was very solemn. It made me fairly cry, as we stood there, and thinking of home.
In the afternoon we arrived at the Chesapeake Bay. We first thought of going up the Potomac river, but it would have been very foolish to have done so, as one shot would have sunk us. We therefore kept up the Chesapeake. A splendid sail we had. It is a splendid country, the banks full of green trees, grass, &c.—about a month ahead of New York. In the evening we were constantly startled by skyrockets, fired from the shore as we supposed by the enemy, to tell of our approach, but nothing touched us. We retired as before at nine o’clock. We were expecting a war vessel to meet us, and stopped every vessel to inquire about it, but could get no tidings of one.
We awoke next morning to find ourselves in front of Annapolis, the capital of Maryland. It is a small city, the principal attraction being the naval school. We found here the war vessel Constitution, which had been moored out from Annapolis, for fear of an attack. She had 40,000 pounds of powder on board, and was manned by the cadets. Also a railroad steamboat taken by the Massachusetts troops, that left New York the same day without us, as a prize. They took her at Havre de Grace, and brought her around to Annapolis. The pilot was a secessionist, and run them aground. They put him in irons. The crew and engineers were also secessionists. They cleared them out and substituted some of their own men, who were engineers. The government has now possession of the boat, and have manned her with United States marines and some cannon. They use it as a transport. They were aground and had nothing to eat. We pulled them off and gave them what we could. In the afternoon we landed and quartered in a small fort belonging to the school, affording only very close quarters.
The cadets were overjoyed to see us, as they anticipated an attack and had been under arms. We acted as guard. I was on the first night, and was stationed at the extreme end of the yard, three or four hundred yards from any of the guard; they expected an attack from that end, being nearest the city. I kept my eye open. The next day all the little niggers of the city bought in cakes, pies, lemons at ten cents each, and other things they charged for what you buy in New York for one cent, 12 1/2 cents or a tip. We had two meals a day: a breakfast at seven o’, dinner and supper at four o’clock.
During this, Tuesday night we went to sleep armed, our muskets by our sides, ready at a moment’s notice for an attack. I went to bed at nine o’clock.
At eleven o’clock an alarm was sounded; in seven minutes we were up and had formed line for an attack. The alarm came from ships in the harbor. They signaled the approach of a fleet, which proved to be some of our New York vessels. We then returned to bed. At three o’clock next morning my company (Second) and the Sixth were aroused and prepared for marching. Our rations—consisting of raw salt pork, hard biscuit and water—were served.
We then started, with a howitzer, as skirmishers, to precede the main force, on a journey of twenty miles. The Boston troops had taken possession of the railroad and station, and had put together a locomotive which had been all demolished. It so happened that the very man who built the locomotive was among the Massachusetts troops. It did not take him long to put it together again and lay down the rails which had been torn up for four miles ahead.
We put our knapsacks in the train and started on our journey at five o’clock, the second company taking the lead. Our duty was to send scouts a mile ahead and tell of any ambuscade or gathering.
We were told by the people of Annapolis that we never could get ten miles. The country is a very desolate one, giving us no chance of regressing ourselves, there being about ten houses between Annapolis and Washington. The day was very hot, and several of the men were sun struck. Nothing of interest happened except a shower caught us and soaked us.
About nine o’clock the main body caught us, two miles from a place called Junction, where we were told five thousand troops had gathered to oppose us. The boys were so tired that when we stopped they fell down to sleep as if they were dead—they were so tired with the day fatiguing march. I was in the advance guard. The most of us were building a bridge which had been torn down.
I went back to our company and found only a few members. A few feet ahead I saw about twenty five blankets, &c. thrown on the ground. At once saw that some of them had advanced for some reason. I threw my clothes on the ground and alone advanced to meet them and see what was the matter. I met them, twenty five men advancing cautiously with their fingers on their triggers. I fell in and advanced with them seeing there was some desperate work ahead. We went a mile on the track. On both sides was a forest of bushes and trees.
It seems our Lieutenant who is a very courageous man, was in advance with one or two men, when he saw some men tearing up the track, and the twenty five had advanced to rout them without anyone in the regiment knowing it. I expected an attack from about seventy five to one hundred men, and had given up all hopes of ever reaching camp again.
Imagine us one mile from any help, in an enemy country, surrounded, in the dead of night, by bushes, trying to find some one to fight. After advancing a mile we returned, strapped on our blankets and things, and again started alone for the Junction, where we anticipated to meet 5,000.
Well, we advanced (that is about seventy five of the Second company). We had to go through woods, deep gullies, &c. The rest of the camp was fast asleep. We advanced with our fingers on our muskets. We were spoiling for a fight, and expected to be cut to pieces; but our object was to pioneer New York State to Washington, and open communication, as all other routes were closed.
After a half hour’s march were found our selves at the famous Junction, but were disappointed in finding no enemy, but consoled ourselves with the idea of having captured this famous place. We took possession of the railroad station, and went to bed on a pile of weed, after having first stationed a guard to prevent surprise.
In the morning the main body missed us, and sent scouts through the country, supposing us to have been lost; but when they found us in possession of the railroad junction, village and all, they raised three cheers, which were returned by the whole regiment.
During the morning, a train was sent from Washington, which conveyed us there without further incidents. So you see the Seventh regiment has started, through Maryland, communication with New York and sent through the first mail to Washington that had been received in a week. Bully for the Seventh regiment, Second company.
In Washington we marched three miles to the White House, presented ourselves to ‘Old Abe,’ and let him know New York city was ready. We then went to Willards’ National Hotel and took dinner. In the evening went to the Capitol, where they have stationed us in the hall of the Representatives, a splendid room.
I slept last night on a marble floor, not as soft as a pine floor, but I slept. We have made arrangements to take meals at the hotels; our company at Willard’s at seventy five cents per day.
The people here supposed us to have been all killed; they heard we had had a fight at Baltimore; that we killed five hundred and lost fifty. They afterwards heard we were routed on the way from Annapolis and had returned home licked.
We have been treated well here; they look at us as ghosts arisen from the dead. But, here we are, and likely to remain for a month. Today we were all mustered before the President and took the oath of allegiance to support the President of the United States, the flag that has thirty four stars on it and the constitution. It was a grand sight to see us repeat the oath after the Marshal. I am now a United States soldier. I do not want to go home before thirty four stars fly from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. Troops are arriving fast. They look upon us here as pioneers, having restored them to the civilized world. I will at some future time give you a detailed account of the place.
We go into camp on Monday, when we expect to have a fine time. We may encamp at Georgetown two miles from the city. The drums are beating to quarters the light are going out, and you humble servant is going to sleep.
Yours, truly,
Yours, truly,
A.A. Curtis.