Addresses by Major-General William W. Belknap, 15th Iowa Infantry
Transcribed & submitted by Diane Korten, korten@ne.uswest.net
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MARCH FROM SHILOH TO CORINTH

(Address by Major-General William W. Belknap)

There was much sickness in the regiments,  the movement was slow and
tiresome. A mile and halt -- a half mile and halt -- a few paces and
halt. It seemed to be endless as a journey. Rain, rain, rain, constant
rain  for days and mud with all the offensive features of camp life
with new troops.

The only water which we had to drink came from holes dug in the ground,
into which the rain seeped from the unpoliced forest. This was our daily
beverage. The mules, those necessary attachments to a camp, had their
corrals near. The thousand unpleasant surroundings were there, where men,
thrown together without the latter discipline which army rules enforce,
are careless of cleanliness; and though the tale may never be told in
words, it may be imagined what the situation was.

As for myself, being a major, I had a tent, but like all others pitched
in the mud. The softened ground covered by a blanket was the floor and
all around us was the perfection of unavoidable and complete nastiness.
We were under clouds and rains and deep in the deepest mud of Tennessee.


SPRINGFIELD RIFLED MUSKETS

(by Major General William W. Belknap)

With few exceptions, the regiments of infantry in the War of the Rebellion
were furnished with muzzle-loading percussion Springfield rifled muskets.
It has always been a supreme wonder to me how the men, in the excitement
of actual battle, where it was necessary to load and fire rapidly, could
hold their head sufficiently level and thus to keep their wits so well
about them, as to return their rammer to its place before firing.

A battle is a place of din, smoke, oaths, shouting, effort and agonizing
labor, with the muscles of all the limbs in use, and the nerves that
control the brain, or that the brain controls, drawn to their closest
tension. The confusing clamor, the odor that fills the air from burning
powder, wounded men and dying horses and the unceasing rattle and roll
of musketry, is enough to turn the clearest head and weaken the strongest
heart... A rammer is but a simple part of the mechanism of a gun. And yet
its loss would be fatal. Without it, the service of the gun is gone.

The man who fights has left all for his country: wife, children, friends,
sweetheart, and home are gone from him, perhaps forever; there is no
mother's voice to say sweet words, no father's care to guide or lead him;
nothing for him to think of save his country's cause, and in that case he
must kill as many as he can and save himself. And yet this boy, away from
all he loves, save his own  comrades -- with a sheet of fire in front which
rivals hell, with bullets whizzing, tree falling, men dying and the air
filled with the oaths of the desperate and excited, and the "God have mercy
on me" of the stricken  soldier by his side as the minnie ball cuts through
him -- cool, calm and collected, has the presence of mind, even when the
tumult is the highest, to be unforgetful of the rammer, and each time
before he fires to place it where it should be on his trusty gun.


RECRUITMENT OF DARBY GRADY (GRALEY)

Major William W. Belknap related the following story of his recruiting
experiences in 1862:
"When Darby was marching in the streets of Keokuk, to the boat, which was
to carry him south, his mother, a respectable old Irish lady, rushed from
the sidewalk, seized him, objected to his going, said he was not eighteen
years of age, and that he could not and should not go.

Major Belknap told her that Darby had sworn that he was eighteen, and that
the oath he had taken was, under the law conclusive as to his age. But she
was inexorable, and demanded her boy. Major Belknap, rather than take Darby
by force, told her of the honorable character of a soldier's service, of
the applause that would greet her son when he returned from the war, and of
her patriotic duty in the matter, and said that he would personally see
that her son was cared for.

This last promise caused her to relent. Raising her hands and blessing both
the Major and her boy, she said:
'God bless you, Darby, and good-bye. Stick close to the Major, Darby; stick
close to the major, and you will never get hurted.' "

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USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with the USGenWeb policy of providing free
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electronic pages cannot be reproduced in any format for profit or other
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libraries is encouraged.
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