FEINBERG/WHITMAN LITERARY FILE Prose "Some War [Memoranda?] - Jotted Down at the Time," North American Review, Jan. 1887 Proof Sheets Box 34 Folder 14 Includes A.M.S. corrections & notations1111 1887 11 January November Boughs: corrected proof sheets. A.M.S. (4p. 2.52 x 20.3 cm.) Written in ink, with page numbers in blue pencil, and magazine name and date in pencil, on some coarse pages, to which proofs have been pasted of "Some War Memoranda--Jotted Down at the Time" (for November Boughs), page numbers 107, 108, 110, 111, with N A Review Jan '87 in upper right corner, and 34 corrections, almost all of them a change of -ed to 'd, as in happen'd and receiv'd. On p. 107 is written in pencil, in another hand: Gray. And on p. 110: Vance. These may be the names of printers. See Commonplace Book, 11 January 1887.Gray 107 NA Review gave '87 R 17 SOME WAR MEMORANDA -- JOTTED DOWN AT THE TIME. I find this incident in my notes (I suppose from "chinning" in hospital with some sick or wounded soldier who knew of it): When Kilpatrick and his forces were cut off at Brandy Station (last of September, '63, or thereabouts), and the bands struck up "Yankee Doodle" there were not cannon enough in the Southern Confederacy to keep him and them "in." It was when Meade fell back. K. had his cavalry division (perhaps 5,000 men), and the rebs, in superior force, had surrounded them. Things looked exceedingly desperate. K. had two fine bands, and ordered them up immediately; they joined and played "Yankee Doodle" with a will,! It went through the men like lightning- but to inspire, not to unnerve. Every man seemed a giant. They charged like a cyclone, and cut their way out. Their loss was but 20. It was about two in the afternoon. WASHINGTON STREET SCENES. April 7, 1864.- WALKING DOWN PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. -Warmish forenoon after the storm of the past few days. I see, passing up, in the broad space between the curbs, a big squad of a couple of hundred conscripts, surrounded by a strong cordon of armed guards, and others interspersed between the ranks. The government has learned caution from its experiences; there are many hundreds of "bounty jumpers," and already, as I am told, eighty thousands deserters! Next (also passing up the avenue), a cavalry company, young, but evidently well drilled and service- hardened men. Mark the upright posture in their saddles, the bronzed and bearded young faces, the easy swaying to the motions of the horses, and the carbines by their right knees; handsome and reckless, some eighty of them, riding with rapid gait, clattering along. Then the tinkling bells of passing cars, the many shops (some with large show-windows, some with swords, straps for the shoulders of different ranks, hat-cords with acorns, or other insignia), the military patrol marching along, with the orderly or second-lieutenant stopping different ones to examine passes-the forms, the faces, all sorts crowded together, the worn and pale, the pleased, some on their way to the railroad depot going home, the cripples, the darkeys, the long trains of government wagons, or the sad strings of ambulances conveying wounded- the many108 officers' horses tied in front of the drinking or oyster saloons, or held by black men or boys, or orderlies. THE 195TH PENNSYLVANIA. Tuesday, Aug. 1, 1865.—About 3 o'clock this afternoon (sun broiling hot) in Fifteenth street, by the Treasury building, a large and handsome regiment, 195th Pennsylvaniam, were marching by—as it happen[e]'d, receiv[e]'d orders just here to halt and break ranks, so that they might rest themselves awhile. I thought I never saw a finer set of men—so hardy, candid, bright American looks, all weather-beaten, and with warm clothes. Every man was home-born. My heart was much drawn toward them. They seem[e]'d very tired, red, and streaming with sweat. It is a one- year regiment, mostly from Lancaster County, Pa.; have been in Shenandoah Valley. On halting, the men unhitch[e]'d their knapsacks, and sat down to rest themselves. Some lay flat on the pavement or under trees. The fine physical appearance of the whole body was remarkable. Great, very great, must be the State where such young farmers and mechanics are the practical average. I went around for half an hour and talk[e]'d with several of them, sometimes squatting down with the groups. LEFT-HAND WRITING BY SOLDIERS. April 30, 1866.—Here is a single significant fact, from which one may judge of the character of the American soldiers in this just concluded war: A gentleman in New York City, a while since, took it into his head to collect specimens of writing from soldiers who had lost their right hands in battle, and afterwards learn[e]'d to use the left. He gave public notice of his desire, and offer[e]'d prizes for the best of these specimens. Pretty soon they began to come in, and by the time specified for awarding the prizes three hundred samples of such left-hand writing by maim[e]'d soldiers had arrived. I have just been looking over some of this writing. A great many of the specimens are written in a beautiful manner. All are good. The writing in nearly all cases slants backward instead of forward. One piece of writing, from a soldier who had lost both arms, was made by holding the pen in his mouth. CENTRAL VIRGINIA IN '64. Culpeper, were I am stopping, looks like a place of two or three thousand inhabitants. Must be one of the pleasantest towns in Virginia. Even now, dilapidated fences, all broken down, windows out, it has the remains of much beauty. I am standing on an eminence overlooking the town, though within its limits. to the west the long Blue Mountain range is very plain, looks quite near though from 30 to 50 miles distant, with some gray splashes of snow yet visible. The show is varied and fascinating. I see a great eagle up there in the air sailing with pois[e]'d wings, quite low. Squads of red-legged soldiers are drilling ; I suppose some of the new men of the Brooklyn 14th ; they march of presently with muskets on their shoulders. In another place, just below110 Vauce usual replies." But I did not start out to argue the case—only to give my reminiscence literally, as jotted on the spot at the time. I write this on Mason's (otherwise [A????]) island, under the fine shade trees of an old white stucco house, with big rooms ; the white stucco house, originally a fine country seat (tradition says the famous Virginia Mason, author of the Fugitive Slave Law, was born here). I reach[e]'d the spot from my Washington quarters by ambulance up Pennsylvania Avenue, through Georgetown, across the Aqueduct bridge, and around through a cut and winding road, with rocks and many bad gullies not lacking. After reaching the Island, we get presently in the midst of the camp of the 1st Regiment U. S. c. T. The tents look clean and good ; indeed, altogether, in locality especially, the pleasantest camp I have yet seen. The spot is umbrageous, high and dry, with distant sounds of the city, and the puffing steamers of the Potomac, up to a Georgetown and back again. Birds are singing in the trees, the warmth is endurable here in this moist shade, with the fragrance and freshness. A hundred rods across is Georgetown. The river between is swell[e]'d and muddy from the late rains up country. So quiet here, yet full of vitality, all around in the far distance glimpses, as I sweep my eye, of hills, verdure-clad, and with plenteous trees ; right where I sit, locust, sassafras, spice, and many other trees, a few with huge parasitic vines ; just at hand the banks sloping to the river, wild with beautiful, free vegetation, superb weeds, better, in their natural growth and forms, than the best garden. Lots of luxuriant grape vines and trumpet flowers : the river flowing far down in the distance. Now the paying is to begin. The Major (paymaster) with his clerk seat themselves at a table—the rolls are before them—the money box is open[e]'d—there are packages of five, ten, twenty-five cent pieces. [H??e] comes the first Company (B), some 82 men, all blacks. Certes, we cannot find fault with the appearance of this crowd—[n?????s] though they be. They are manly enough, bright enough, look as if they had the soldier-stuff in them, look hardy, patient, many of them real handsome young fellows. The paying, I say, has begun. The men are march[e]'d up in close proximity. The clerk calls off name after name, and each walks up, receives his money, and passes along out of the way. It is a real study, both to see them come close, and to see them pass away, stand counting their cash—(nearly all of this company get ten dollars and three cents each). the clerk calls George Washington. That distinguish[e]'d personage steps from the ranks, in the shape of a very black man, good sized and shaped, and aged about 30, with a military mustache ; he takes his " ten three," and goes off evidently well pleas[e]'d. (there are about a dozen Washingtons in the company. Let us hope they will do honor to the name.). AT the table, how quickly the Major handles the bills, counts without trouble, everything going on smoothly and quickly. The regiment numbers to-day about 1,000 men (including 20 officers, the only whites.)Now another company. These get $5.36 each. The men look well. They, too, have great names; besides the Washingtons aforesaid, John Quincy Adams, Daniel Webster, Calhoun, James Madison, Alfred Tennyson, John Brown, Benj. G. Tucker, Horace Greeley, etc. The men step off aside, count their money, with a pleas'd, half-puzzled look. Occasionally, but not often, there are some thoroughly African physiognomies, very black in color, large protruding lips, low forehead, etc. But I have to say I do not see one utterly revolting face. Then another company, each man of this $10.03 also. The pay proceeds very rapidly (the calculation, roll-signing, etc., having been arranged before hand). Then some trouble. One company, by the rigid rules of official computation, gets only 23 cents each man. The company (K) is indignant, and after two or three are paid, the refusal to take the paltry sum is universal, and the company marches off to quarters unpaid. Another company (I) gets only 70 cents. The sullen, lowering, disappointed look is general. Half refuse it in this case. Company G, in full dress, with brass scales on shoulders, look'd, perhaps, as well as any of the companies—the men had an unusually alert look. These, then, are the black troops,—or the beginning of them. Well, no one can see them, even under these circumstances—their military career in its novitiate—without feeling well pleas'd with them. As we enter'd the island, we saw scores at a little distance, bathing, washing their clothes, etc. The officers, as far as looks go, have a fine appearance, have good faces, and the air military. Altogether it is a significant show, and brings up some "abolition" thoughts. The scene, the porch of an old Virginia slave-owner's house, the Potomac rippling near, the Capitol just down three or four miles there, seen through the pleasant blue haze of this July day. After a couple of hours I get tired, and go off for a ramble. I write these concluding lines on a rock, under the shade of a tree on the banks of the island. It is solitary here, the birds singing, the sluggish muddy-yellow waters pouring down from the late rains of the upper Potomac; the green heights on the south side of the river before me. The single cannon from a neighboring fort has just been fired, to signal high noon. I have walk'd all around Analostan, enjoying its luxuriant wildness, and stopt in this solitary spot. A water snake wriggles down the bank, disturb'd, into the water. The bank near by is fringed with a dense growth of shrubbery, vines, etc.