NEWS: The Alleghanian; 28 Jul 1864; Ebensburg, Cambria Cnty., PA Contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by Patty Millich Copyright 2009. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/cambria/ _________________________________________ The Alleghanian Ebensburg, Pa. Thursday, 28 Jul 1864 Volume 5, Number 44 Etchings Mr. Evan Morgan has been appointed an Assistant Assessor of Internal Revenue for Cambria county, vice Mr. N. I. Roberts, resigned. His post office address is Ebensburg. Sergt. George W. Brown of Co. A, 11th Penna. Reserves, who was wounded in the hip in the battle of the Wilderness and since that time has been an inmate of Mount Pleasant Hospital, Washington City, arrived here last week on a brief furlough His wound, altho' still painful is rapidly healing and in a few weeks doubtless will be quite well. We hope so for the Sergeant is a brave soldier, a genial companion and a good fellow generally. Last week we noticed the burning of the steam saw mill of Messrs. Pryce and Griffith, located in Cambria township. This week we have to chronicle the total destruction by fire of a like establishment belonging to Messrs. M. M. Adams & Co., near Cresson this county. The flames, we understand, were communicated to the building at night in the absence of the workmen by sparks wafted from a neighboring woods on fire. The loss is estimated at $2,000. By a letter received here, we learn that Lieut. J. Nixon Kinkead of Co. M., 12th Pa. Cavalry was among the number of Federal officers captured at Gunpowder Bridge during the late rebel raid into Maryland. He succeeded in making his escape from his captors, however, in precisely the same manner that General Franklin achieved the same feat, to wit, by watching his chances and "seyugling" when the graybacks were steeped in slumber. Lucky boy! All the workmen in the Johnstown TRIRBUNE office have enlisted and gone to the wars with the one–hundred days men, thereby leaving the editor in a quandary as to how he is going to get his paper out after this. From almost every quarter we have reports of woods and fields on fire and burning unrestrainedly. In this county, the track of the devouring element was marked and widespread. Much damage has undoubtedly resulted therefrom. It is to be hoped the rain of Monday, which so effectually dispelled the drought of long standing afflicting us, also put a quietus on the flames. Local Correspondence Johnstown, July 24, 1864 In lieu of my regular correspondence allow me this week to give your readers a few brief "notes of travel" through the country lately visited by the rebel raiders On Sunday evening last I took passage with a friend for Hagerstown, arriving there at noon the following day. We passed through the fertile Cumberland Valley, where on every side and as far as the eye could reach, the most luxuriant fields of waving grain met the gaze. In many places the farmers had just returned, after their "scare" and were garnering the harvest. I understand the yield through the Valley this year will be fully up to the average. At Hagerstown a great many of the inhabitants were still absent and the town presented a most forlorn and deserted aspect. A number of stores were despoiled of their contents by the rebels; but beyond this, and the leveling of $20,000 as a ransom for the town, no particular damage to private property resulted from the raid. The farmers in the vicinity, however, lost heavily in horses, cattle and other stock. On Tuesday morning we took the stage from Frederick, twenty-six miles distant. Passing over South Mountain, through Boonesboro and Middletown, spots memorable through the achievements of '62, we arrived at our destination about noon. Here the immediate effects of the raid were more plainly visible. The hospitals were filled with 300 Union and 400 rebel wounded and just beyond the city was the battlefield which proved utterly disastrous to the rebels. In one of these hospitals I found my gallant young friend, Capt. M'Donald of Co. M, 12th Pa. Cavalry. He was badly wounded in a charge through the city and although at first pronounced mortally hurt, I am happy to say there are strong hopes now entertained of his ultimate recovery. I learned the following particulars in regard to the charge in which the Capt. was wounded: Being sent as advance to our infantry column with 70 men, he moved down the old Hagerstown road and discovered when near the city that a rebel force of 300 cavalry were drawn up on Market street to receive him. Detaching 54 of his men as a reserve, he advanced with but 16, conjecturing that the narrowness of the street would preclude a charge with a greater number, and wheeled into Market street and ordered a charge. The rebels met him with a full volley, but nothing daunted, the Captain pushed on and drove the rebels fully half a mile down the street. In this charge, Capt. M'D was wounded in the thigh. The rebels now made a determined stand and ordering up his reserve, the Capt. again charged them - himself far in advance of his men. He was again successful in pushing back the foe but not until after he had received a second wound, over the heart. His command followed the retreating rebels far beyond the town, into their infantry supports, when they were compelled to desist. In the meantime the Capt. was lifted from his horse and laid on the sidewalk, (the horse immediately falling dead from the effects of eight balls received,) and the Surgeon sent for. His wounds were pronounced mortal, and when the citizens attempted to carry him into a house, he bade them desist telling them that, "if his time had come, he would die on the field." A lady from Martinsburg named Mrs. Rivers who had become acquainted with the Capt. at that place, had him conveyed to a house and for five days and nights devoted herself unremittingly to his care. She at length had the satisfaction of seeing him greatly improve, when he was removed to the hospital and every attention paid him. The citizens who witnessed the charge speak of the bravery of the Capt., and his command in the highest terms. The 12th is again at Harper's Ferry. On Thursday morning we left Frederick and passing over the Monocracy battle ground, arrived in Baltimore at noon; from there we took the cars for Philadelphia, passing en route the famous Gunpowder Bridge. This structure, I should judge is over two miles long and though partially destroyed by the rebels, is again in complete running order. A short distance from this bridge, the remains of the captured mail trains are to be seen and scattered in the vicinity are a large number of envelopes rifled from the mails. All trace of the presence of the raiders ceases from this point. For One Hundred Days The following are the names of the officers of the company which left Johnstown one week ago: Captain -- W. J. Jones 1st Lieut. -- Ed B. Purcell 2d Lieut. -- Theophilus L. Heyer This company is known as Co. F, 192d Pa. Vols., composed of Schuylkill, Berks, Dauphin, Mifflin, Lycoming, Montour, Bedford, Berks and Cambria men. The regimental officers are: Col. James Nagle; Lieut.-Col. R. M'Michael; Maj. O. D. Jenkins. Draft Matters The examination of drafted men for this county under the supplementary draft of July 6 was made here last week. The result may be briefly summed up as follows: A majority of the conscripts reported in person; about one-half were exempted for this, that or the other; some six or seven were held to service and the balance paid commutation. Another supplementary draft to fill deficiencies will be made on next Friday, 29th inst., when one hundred percent excess will be drawn. Soldiering WET WEATHER A correspondent of the Cincinnati COMMERICAL draws the following picture of campaigning in Georgia: For two weeks together, as the clock runs, the rain has fallen upon this army more or less – generally more – in quantities about as great as could descend thro' the thick trees and it will scarcely be disputable at present that matters generally are very moist. The extent to which such a state of affairs is productive of inconvenience and downright nuisance every one who has not actually experienced it will utterly fail to appreciate. Let the reader look for a moment into a camp on a rainy day and note what presents itself. Look just a minute at the teamsters' camp in the evening after a day's march when the wagons are parking for the night. In a convenient tract of open woods the train of one corps, forming a line seven miles long and composed of about six hundred and fifty wagons, will be massed with as much regularity as possible. In one part of the woods three or four hundred wagons have already disposed themselves in order and the six mule teams are tied around a tree or elsewhere while each individual mule of them divides his spare time between kicking the remaining five and braying his own variations of the asinine symphony. In one place a teamster, in attempt to "carry" one of his animals to water and lead the remainder is hustled by his unruly caravan under an overreaching limb and suddenly deposited in the mire in another place, one is gathering savory oak boughs, a part of which he spreads before the team to lighten their pinched rations and with another part spreads for himself a couch. A part of the wagons have not yet come up and are still in the midst of the troubles of a march. In a profound slough at the bottom of a valley they are laboring through the mud which is nearly hub deep when one of the animals, weak from long starvation, is cast and the driver after a nominal effort to restore him to his feet cuts him out of his harness and drives over him if he can. When ten wagons have passed over the place, the wretched brute is half submerged and soon disappears entirely. If any part of the army swears it is the teamsters, and if any part is excusable for it, it is they. In the camps of the soldiers everything is discomfort. The tired and bedraggled soldier is often willing to satisfy his hunger with a hard cracker and a slice of raw meat rather than lose any hours from sleep to kindle a fire. Others are determined to be comfortable at all hazards and set about achieving that result with much ingenuity. One cuts around the base of a large tree and, dividing the bark into slips, strips it up, often fifteen or twenty feet, and if it "slips" well, this will yield him a very useful slab. Upon this he measures off his own stature as many times as it will contain it and laying the pieces down with the outside up, he stretches himself upon them, under his "purp tent" and sleeps. If the surface of the bark is somewhat uneven and not of the nature of feathers, it is, nevertheless, dry. Another, more intent still on the comfort, nails a coffee mill to a tree or cracks the kernels in a cup with the end of his musket, collects a little water from a reservoir where several regiments have already dipped and proceeds to make a cup of army coffee. It is surprising to those who may not have seen it, what an amount of substantial comfort the soldier appears to extract from a pint of the sorry beverage. Bad as it is, it goes far to compensate for every discomfort that may befall. Despite all effort and ingenuity the rain will overcome everything. Though the soldier may have elevated himself above the surface of the ground by a contrivance of forked sticks and poles, still wherever a leaf touches the canvass, there the water will distill through in gentle drops upon him and he awakens in the morning to find himself as damp as the night before. With nothing but a bayonet to construct a ditch about his tent, a sudden flood of water will break over the slight barrier and spread itself cozy and soothing all through his solitary blanket together with so many haversacks of hard tack as may unluckily have been left upon the ground; nor does the influence of capillary attraction end in any degree to keep his blouse dry. A tired soldier who has lost his tent in battle or is otherwise without it will throw himself upon the ground at midnight and may be seen the next morning, sleeping soundly while a little purling stream frisks through his curling beard and thence washes the entire coast through the dilapidated shoes and thence issuing out through a convenient opening at the toe. But then the marching the next day after the rain, when ten thousand men have already passed over the road! Evil be upon the head of the maker of army shoes who forgot to make them boots. But to enumerate all the vexations of a rainy day might induce the belief that the soldier's life is always trist and damp. Not so; it is a happy one, if there is such to be found. Very soon the sun appears, the mud is assuaged, the days of watery memory are quickly forgotten, the soldier's face beams again with smiles and he swears no more for many hours. LIFE IN THE TRENCHES A correspondent of the Philadelphia PRESS gives the following description of life in the trenches: Humboldt once said that the most exciting life that one could lead would be to cross from peak to peak of the Alps on a corde elastique and keep it up from day to day. That, indeed, would be a dangerous mode of life, but I question whether it would be more exciting than that which is every day experienced by our gallant boys in the rifle pits. They take their position in the darkness of the night when the keen eye of the rebel cannot pierce through the mists between the lines. The enemy raise their heads above their works, but they can see nothing, save the occasional sound of a discharged rifle. Our men peer over the breastworks, but cannot see a living thing. This is the hour for stationing men in the trenches. Both rebels and Federals covered by the thick darkness that veils them are, for the moment, comparatively friendly – not of their own wish, but made so by the interposition of Nature. Silently and cautiously our men move down to their positions; each one is stationed where the judgment of his commanding officer sees proper to place him and he accordingly at once makes himself at home. The hole, perhaps, is not large enough to comfortably accommodate him. Taking out his cooking utensils, he begins with his spoon to loosen the earth around his body, and then with his stew pan he shovels it out and throws it upon the top of his breastwork. He works out for himself a friendly orifice to screen him from any desultory shell that might wish to disturb his new home. This he excavates at a declining angle of forty-five degrees; when this is finished, the officers give him his orders, and all are commanded to their duty. Every one is in his position and now he is left all alone. A thick ridge of earth, running at right angles to the breastwork, forbids a glance at his neighbor, but he can talk and be heard with distinctness. He expects a hot day and accordingly raises above his head a small sheet of shelter-tent for protection; the gray dawn of early morning has given the enemy "a sight" and a bullet whistles near his head, reminding him that he must be aware of exposure. Working with more cautiousness he arranges his shade cover, and is glorying in his constructive ability from the exercise of which he expects some little comfort when another bullet with terrible precision cuts the cord which bound the tent to its stake and it falls to the earth. That was a plunge shot, and he knows that one of those deadly sharpshooters is watching his movements from the cover of some near tree. To more fully impress his mind of this supposition, he raises his cap gently above the work; in a second of time a bullet from the same direction striking it, sends it spinning on its axis. Day has now been ushered in and it behooves him to beware of his situation and not expose himself to the unerring aim of the enemy's rifle. The sun pours down with the most deadly heat. Still he cannot move; he must lie watching his opportunity as best he can, to lessen the number of his country's foes. Soon he summons up his courage, which the sun, more than the enemy had well nigh driven from him and he creeps toward the opening of his rifle pit. Then comes an event which in one case at least actually occurred. He espies a rebel cautiously pushing his way from tree to tree; his movements betray his purpose which is to ascend a tall pine that commands a measured view of our lines. He gains the tree and upon the opposite side he proceeds cautiously to raise himself. Just as he reaches a cross bough of the pine and is about to move out upon it, the Union boy sees his exposure, and his only opportunity to take advantage, pulls his trigger and the gaunt rebel falls headlong from that limb dead upon the ground below. And there lays that body until the shades of night give opportunity for its removal. Toward that point at dusk are aimed a score of rifles and at different hours throughout the night volleys are fired in its direction. Perhaps the morning light will reveal the dead bodies of a score of rebels who had attempted to "bring in" the form of their departed comrade. So goes the days, so the nights of those in trenches; a life full of danger and crowded with incidents.