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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War: Volume 2.. Search the whole document.

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Warren Lee Coss (search for this): chapter 4.19
Campaigning to no purpose. Recollections of a private.-ii. Warren Lee Coss. Inspection. From a War-time sketch.While we were in camp at Washington in February, 1862, we were drilled to an extent which to the raw thinking soldier seemed unnecessary. Our colonel was a strict disciplinarian. His efforts to drill out of us the methods of action and thought common to citizens, and to substitute in place thereof blind, unquestioning obedience to military rules, were not always appreciated at their true value. In my company there was an old drill-sergeant (let us call him Sergeant Hackett) who was in sympathetic accord with the colonel. He had occasion to reprove me often, and, finally, to inflict a blast of profanity at which my self-respect rebelled. Knowing that swearing was a breach of discipline, I waited confidently upon the colonel, with the manner of one gentleman calling upon another. After the usual salute, I opened complaint by saying: Colonel, Mr. Hackett has---- T
Nathaniel P. Banks (search for this): chapter 4.19
ort man, with sandy hair, in military dress, came out upon it and congratulated the engineers on their success. This unassuming man was George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. It was on this boat-bridge that the army of General Banks crossed to the Virginia shore in 1862. Officers were not allowed to trot their horses; troops in crossing were given the order, Route step, as the oscillation of the cadence step or trotting horse is dangerous to the stability of a bridge ofn in general. The occasional crack of a musket among the hills on the other side of the Shenandoah told that the enemy's scouts were still there. Colonel Geary's men were engaged in driving them from the hills, preparatory to the advance of General Banks. During the day fifteen or twenty were captured and marched through the town, presenting a generally shabby and unmilitary appearance. They did not impress me, as they did afterward when charging on our lines, with their unmusical yell and
s of action and thought common to citizens, and to substitute in place thereof blind, unquestioning obedience to military rules, were not always appreciated at their true value. In my company there was an old drill-sergeant (let us call him Sergeant Hackett) who was in sympathetic accord with the colonel. He had occasion to reprove me often, and, finally, to inflict a blast of profanity at which my self-respect rebelled. Knowing that swearing was a breach of discipline, I waited confidently upon the colonel, with the manner of one gentleman calling upon another. After the usual salute, I opened complaint by saying: Colonel, Mr. Hackett has---- The colonel interrupted me angrily, and, with fire in his eye, exclaimed: Mister? There are no misters in the army. I thought, sir---- I began apologetically. Think? Think? he cried. What right have you to think? I do the thinking for this regiment Go to your quarters! I did not tarry. There seemed to be no common ground on which h
pounds each. We carried a number six into the unknown depths of mud, but it came out a number twelve, elongated, yellow, and nasty. Occasionally a boot or shoe would be left in the mud, and it would take an exploring expedition to find it. Wad Rider declared that though Virginia was once in the Union, she was now in the mud. The boys called their shoes pontons, mud-hooks, soil-excavators, and other names not quite so polite. The mud was in constant league with the enemy; an efficient allytired men. I would be willing, occasionally, to make another such march, through the same mud, for such a sleep. At early daylight we fell in for rations of hot coffee and hard-tack. Immediately after, we took up our line of march, or, as Wad Rider expressed it, began to pull mud. With intervals of rest, we pulled mud until about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, when we halted near Manassas Junction. Who has not heard of the Quaker guns at Manassas? We met the logs mounted on wheels, around t
George B. McClellan (search for this): chapter 4.19
tched from shore to shore fifty feet above the bridge, and the upper end of each boat was stayed to the cable by a smaller rope. The rushing bent the bridge into a half-moon curve. The clock-like precision with which these men worked showed them to be the drilled engineers and pontoniers of the regular army. After the bridge was built, a slight, short man, with sandy hair, in military dress, came out upon it and congratulated the engineers on their success. This unassuming man was George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. It was on this boat-bridge that the army of General Banks crossed to the Virginia shore in 1862. Officers were not allowed to trot their horses; troops in crossing were given the order, Route step, as the oscillation of the cadence step or trotting horse is dangerous to the stability of a bridge of any kind. I crossed the bridge soon after it was laid, visited Jefferson Rock, the ruins of the burned armory, and the town in general. The oc
John W. Geary (search for this): chapter 4.19
shore in 1862. Officers were not allowed to trot their horses; troops in crossing were given the order, Route step, as the oscillation of the cadence step or trotting horse is dangerous to the stability of a bridge of any kind. I crossed the bridge soon after it was laid, visited Jefferson Rock, the ruins of the burned armory, and the town in general. The occasional crack of a musket among the hills on the other side of the Shenandoah told that the enemy's scouts were still there. Colonel Geary's men were engaged in driving them from the hills, preparatory to the advance of General Banks. During the day fifteen or twenty were captured and marched through the town, presenting a generally shabby and unmilitary appearance. They did not impress me, as they did afterward when charging on our lines, with their unmusical yell and dauntless front. The ruins of the burned armory of the United States were noticeable from the Maryland shore; also the masses of men moving in ceaseless
ry; thence, after about three hours delay, we marched to a place opposite the promontory A sutler's tent. Based upon a War-time photograph. Harper's Ferry in 1862, from the North. Based upon a War-time photograph. on and around which is situated the picturesque village of Harper's Ferry, at the confluence of the Potomac andng man was George B. McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac. It was on this boat-bridge that the army of General Banks crossed to the Virginia shore in 1862. Officers were not allowed to trot their horses; troops in crossing were given the order, Route step, as the oscillation of the cadence step or trotting horse is lly comprehended. To fully understand it you must march in it, sleep in it, be encompassed round about by it. Great is mud-Virginia mud. In the early spring of 1862, when the Army of the Potomac was getting ready to move from Washington, the constant drill and discipline, the brightening of arms and polishing of buttons, and t
February 25th (search for this): chapter 4.19
report or whence it came I know not, but it was rumored one morning that we were about to move. The order in reality came at last, to the distress and dismay of the sutlers and the little German woman who kept the grocery round the corner. We left her disconsolate over the cakes, pies, and goodies which had been liberally purchased, but which were yet unpaid for when we fell into two ranks, were counted off, and marched to conquer the prejudices of other sutlers. We took the cars on February 25th and were hurried through a number of little sleepy-looking villages of Maryland [see map, p. 124]. The next morning found us at Sandy Hook, about half a mile from Harper's Ferry; thence, after about three hours delay, we marched to a place opposite the promontory A sutler's tent. Based upon a War-time photograph. Harper's Ferry in 1862, from the North. Based upon a War-time photograph. on and around which is situated the picturesque village of Harper's Ferry, at the confluence of
February, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 4.19
Campaigning to no purpose. Recollections of a private.-ii. Warren Lee Coss. Inspection. From a War-time sketch.While we were in camp at Washington in February, 1862, we were drilled to an extent which to the raw thinking soldier seemed unnecessary. Our colonel was a strict disciplinarian. His efforts to drill out of us the methods of action and thought common to citizens, and to substitute in place thereof blind, unquestioning obedience to military rules, were not always appreciated at their true value. In my company there was an old drill-sergeant (let us call him Sergeant Hackett) who was in sympathetic accord with the colonel. He had occasion to reprove me often, and, finally, to inflict a blast of profanity at which my self-respect rebelled. Knowing that swearing was a breach of discipline, I waited confidently upon the colonel, with the manner of one gentleman calling upon another. After the usual salute, I opened complaint by saying: Colonel, Mr. Hackett has---- T
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