The halting place was Martindale Barracks, named thus for General John H. Martindale who, a West Pointer from New York (1835), had won distinguished honors in the Peninsular campaign and, from the preceding November, had been Military Governor of Washington. The barracks, themselves, large and roomy, were located near the "circle," so called, where Washington and New Hampshire Avenues intercept Twenty-third Street, all being to the Northwest of the White House. The men had no difficulty in recognizing the equestrian statue of Washington, by Clark Mills, which, since February, 1860, had stood as the principal figure in the Circle. The buildings to be occupied by the Thirty-ninth were new, well ventilated and lighted, having all reasonable conveniences, two stories in height, the first for officer's quarters, cooking and dining rooms, while in the second story were the best of accommodations for the men. The quarters had been occupied hitherto by one regiment only, the One Hundred and sixty-ninth New York, which having reported in Washington, in October, '62, had been doing provost duty until a few days before when Apr., '63 it was ordered to proceed southward to assist General John J. Peck in the defense of Suffolk, Virginia. The hospital, large and well equipped, won the admiration of the men though, fortunately, there were few occupants during the regiment's stay in the city.

Such were the new appointments to which the Thirty-ninth was commended, something of a change from its former rural surroundings, and a new course of duties was about to be undertaken, though hardly had the brightening up of uniforms and equipments begun ere orders came to stay proceedings, for the regiment was to proceed at once to Fortress Monroe, possibly to have a part in the Suffolk campaign. Had this order not been countermanded and the organization had followed after the One Hundred and Sixty-ninth New York, and had participated in the latter's services, while the Thirty-ninth would have had enough to do, it would have entirely escaped the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Weldon Railroad and other experiences which make up its thrilling war history. Once more settled in their new quarters, confident that provost work in the Capital is before them for an unknown period, the men proceed to burnish up their weapons, to wash, brush and brighten their uniforms and by the time for dress parade, at the close of this first day in Washington, the closest observer could not have detected any traces of the tribulations through which the soldiers had so recently passed.

It is a life of rigid routine to which the regiment is now committed; military conventionalities in the highest degree are to be the rule for nearly three months; no more "Go as you please" when on picket, nor the free and easy conditions of the Poolesville camp for, seemingly, the eyes of the public are on every man and he must be in the stiffest form of polished brasses, dustless apparel and shiny shoes. The discipline that was thought so severe before, now becomes doubly so. ReveillÉ sounds at 5.30 a. m. and thence onward till 8 o'clock, save for breakfast, the detailed men are preparing for inspection, which takes place at the office of the provost marshal, Captain Todd. When on duty, the utmost punctiliousness is demanded and, if the men of the Thirty-ninth do not approach perfection, it will not be the fault of the regulations nor of the officers who direct. To such an extent are the polishing and shining of the rifles carried that some of the men are actually afraid that they will wear the barrels out by such constant attrition. When fully settled into the system of provost and other forms of duty, much of the old time drill is suspended, but there is something to do every day, as much as if the men were laboring in a shop, at the desk or on a farm.

The chief exhibition occasions are those of dress parade when distinguished people are not unlikely to appear. At such times, President Lincoln is seen, and Senator Henry Watson, that Massachusetts man of the people, is not an unusual figure. Is Colonel Davis proud of his men? Rather, how his face lights up at the immediate and perfect response to his commands, and every movement of the long line of soldiers is an effectual refutation of the stilted idea that well informed men cannot make good soldiers. Indeed the entire war was proof convincing that thinking bayonets are the most reliable. Of the satisfying spectacle of dress parade, an observer of the time comments, "So perfect and strict were the drill and personal appearance that in our line, of from eight hundred to nine hundred men, not the slightest difference could be detected in any movement from one flank to the other, as if performed by one man, and, in that test of perfect drill, 'Order arms,' though on a brick sidewalk, not one musket was behind the other, all striking with one crash, which startled the spectators, resembling a perfect volley of musketry."

It was a great change from picketing the banks of the Potomac and doing guard duty about the Poolesville region, to patrolling the thoroughfares of Washington and guarding such points as the War Department, the White House, the offices of the paymaster and quartermaster general, General Heintzelman's Headquarters, the medical Apr., '63 purveyor, the post office, the headquarters for forage, corrals for horses and mules, contraband camps, courts-martial and other places of kindred character. The men who had all of these duties to look after grew to consider Washington a paradise for officers not on duty, but quite the reverse for the enlisted man. The former could come and go at his own sweet will while the latter, if he got a pass at all, was subjected to so many conditions that more than half of the pleasure was lost.

At the same time, in one way or another, the Regiment grew to know Washington pretty well; the most of the notable points were inspected and the young men from far away homes took pleasure in seeing the evidences of real home life on every hand; said one of them, "It seems good to be in civilization once more." The 21st of April brought the New Hampshire friends of Poolesville memory and those beholding bade the Fourteenth a hearty welcome; the regiment was assigned to quarters on New York Avenue, its principal duty being the care of the Central guard house; a fact that resulted most happily when Lieut. Carroll D. Wright, subsequently colonel, was in charge, for certain inconsiderate members of Scott's Nine Hundred, having run in some of the Thirty-ninth's men, without sufficient reason, that very efficient officer released the prisoners at once, the incident being the only one in which our Massachusetts men were even temporarily under arrest in Washington. The two regiments partook of the neighborliness, so long characteristic of the states whence they had come.

Many a soldier boy made mention of the fact that on the 22nd Uncle Sam's paymaster happened around and left four months' compensation, squaring accounts to the first of March, and with "plenty of money in our pockets" even provost guards could be gay and happy. An indication of the steadiness of at least some of the men is found when a diarist writes of the city division of the Sons of Temperance and the cordial reception accorded him and the lieutenant who accompanied him; later the same writer states that a large number of soldiers were present; not all soldiers were or are dissolute. In these days the objects of interest were pretty thoroughly inspected and many a lad thought his blue coat quite in place in the President's blue room; and few items near escaped them. They even noted the cow that furnished the milk for the President's family, and some admired the equestrian Jackson, nearly opposite the White House; they threaded the mazes of the Smithsonian Institute, lingering longest over Catlin's wonderful collection of Indian faces, and one recites his pleasure at meeting Frank Brownell, the slayer of Jackson, the Mansion House murderer of Colonel Ellsworth of the New York Fire Zouaves. On the 28th the shoulder-scales that became a part of the display-uniform thereafter were dealt out, a fact that secured for the Thirty-ninth the reputation from certain ignorant fellows of being a regiment of major generals. The month ended with a general observance of the National Fast Day appointed by the President in compliance with a request of the National Senate that he set apart a day for national prayer and humiliation.

May found everybody intent on the struggle which Union and Confederate soldiers were waging on the banks of the Rappahannock. Hooker, who had been preparing since the last of January, had begun the campaign which Union-loving people were wishing would atone for the disaster of December at Fredericksburg. Again the latter name became familiar to the national ear, and these Massachusetts men in Washington believed that their fellow native of the Bay State would atone for some of the earlier misfortunes. Incidentally much extra work came to the regiment in the care of rebel prisoners, whom the Federals captured in the later days of April and the earlier ones of May. Also, it was the task of the Thirty-ninth to escort many of the captives to more or less remote points for permanent retention. Another duty was that of returning to the army at the front large relays of deserters, many of whom had returned under the general amnesty proclaimed for them, May, '63 and in visiting Fredericksburg for this purpose, the escort had a chance to see what real war meant. While following the forces in the field up to and through Chancellorsville, there was no lessening of local occupation and all articles of wearing apparel had to be kept just as bright as ever.

On the 10th much attention was attracted by the funeral procession of General A. W. Whipple, one of the victims of Chancellorsville, having been shot on the 4th, though he survived till the 7th. A native of Greenwich, Massachusetts, he was graduated at West Point, 1841, and his fellow Massachusetts soldiers felt almost a personal interest in the tokens of respect as the procession passed, including, among many other distinguished public officers, President Lincoln; the pall-bearers were eight first sergeants from the Thirty-ninth Regiment. For many years, thereafter, one of the great forts on the Virginia side of the Potomac was to bear his name. Those of the Regiment, not on other duty on the 11th and 12th, had the benefit of one of the periodical scares liable to any locality near the seat of war. Just before dress parade on the earlier date, at a quarter of six, orders came to have the Regiment ready to march to the Chain Bridge, the most northerly of the three great connections between the District and Virginia. After supper, with rubber blankets and overcoats properly slung, the men were in line, prepared for the order to advance to repel any possible rebel raid. The bridge is about five miles from the barracks and the troops reached that point soon after 10 p. m. No sign of any enemy appearing, they stacked arms by the roadside and proceeded to get what rest they could from the materials in their possession, every one taking the trip as a mild kind of lark. At an early hour of the 12th the return march was made by the men, tired and dusty, though they were quite prepared for the eight o'clock breakfast which the cooks had in readiness.

It was not all work in Washington; there were pranks by the score, and now and then one was written down in the book of someone's recollection,—witness the following: "a corporal of Company A with a guard was detailed to look after certain condemned goods some two miles out; with stripes and chevrons he was as slick and dapper a youth as ever wore a uniform. Without a cent in his pocket, and his entire party of twelve men equally lacking, he took them all to the theatre to see Maggie Mitchell play 'Little Barefoot'; he had said to the men, 'Be ready at seven o'clock, sharp, with shoes blacked and with brass scales on shoulders, the U. S. on the belts, well polished.' They obeyed and were marched off the grounds and along Pennsylvania Ave., the Corporal saluting any patrol they chanced to meet, right up to the theatre, itself; past the ticket-office, and when tickets for the company were demanded, the natty corporal threatened to arrest any one venturing to halt or impede his men, so in they went to the very best seats in the building, two dollar ones, and there he seated his squad. Never was play better enjoyed and when, at 9 o'clock or later, a lieutenant of cavalry looked the house over in search of parties without proper credentials, the corporal rose and, like a veritable Crichton, saluted; how could any officer disturb such serenity and immaculateness? He asked no questions; not a boy in the party understood the circumstances under which they were having the time of their lives, and the return was quite as successful as the going; the whole affair, a triumph of unqualified bluff and cheek."

Very likely many good veterans never knew that the Northern soldiers in Washington maintained an active Division of the Sons of Temperance, having their meetings in Odd Fellows Hall, corner of Nineteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and that, on public occasions, no branch of the order turned out more men. Several officers and men of the Thirty-ninth were deeply interested in the society, and one of them records with some evident satisfaction the fact that he had closed a rum hole and arrested the keeper, making one less source of temptation. On the May 24, '63 24th the boys from New England, with eyes alert for anything savoring of home, discover the passing of the Eleventh Massachusetts Battery, the Commonwealth's only Nine Months' Artillery organization, on its way homeward. Naturally the exchange of greetings was most hearty. On meeting Major S. E. Chamberlain of the First Massachusetts Cavalry, only recently severely wounded, yet out and ready to return, an admirer writes, "If the service were made up of officers like him, more would be done towards putting down the Rebellion."

Pay-day came on the 28th, and the promptness of the Government won no end of praise from the always impecunious soldiers, a feeling that they were disposed at a later time to considerably moderate.

The crowning event of the end of the month was the joint drill of the Regiment along with the Fourteenth New Hampshire some three miles away, in the rear of Mt. Pleasant Hospital on Fourteenth Street. It was hot and dusty, there having been no rain for three weeks, but the men were put through their evolutions by Brig. General Martindale, in a manner that evidently met his approval, whatever those exercised may have thought of it. White gloves and shiny scales suffered from the heat and dust laden air, but the men bore ample testimony to the quality of the drill on the old Poolesville grounds. However, the principal honors came when the return was made, for though the route step was allowed until the heart of the city was reached, then came the display moment and, in column of companies, the Regiment wheeled into Pennsylvania Avenue with the precision of a machine, winning the applause of the crowd of officers who were occupying the piazzas of Willard's Hotel; and without music, but with the regular tramp, tramp, that drill alone can impart, the men marched to their quarters with an added notch in their appreciation of what the Thirty-ninth could do.

In the way of dust and heat, June was to be a trying month for the men who had to keep themselves in the very primmest form possible, since to be neat and speckless was deemed the highest attainment of a soldier in town. In those days there was voting by the citizens on local matters and the drift of the ballots cast on the first day of the month gave indications of a large secession spirit in the city. On the second day, the Thirty-fourth Massachusetts appeared in Washington for the performance of duties, similar to those already falling to the lot of the Thirty-ninth. Though from Worcester County and Berkshire there was the common bond of statehood, and the Thirty-fourth also prided itself no little on its discipline and well drilled ranks. One of the members of the Thirty-ninth comments on the hardness of appearance of some of the prisoners whom he had to watch over and remarks that, at the window by his beat is a girl, about eighteen years old, who is a rebel spy, and that for five months she was a corporal in the Union ranks. Of this same person, Colonel Lincoln in his story of the Thirty-fourth relates that, to curb her and keep her within bounds, one of his officers was obliged to handcuff her.

So far as the amenities of Washington life for the regiment were concerned, nothing contributed more than the evenings spent in connection with the Sons of Temperance organization, of which something might be said in addition to former items. Formed in the Poolesville camp during the preceding winter, it had been chartered by the Grand Lodge of Massachusetts and was known as Army Lodge, Number 39, and after reaching the Capital, its membership increased to about two hundred. No better indication of the moral quality of the regiment could be found. Similar organizations among the residents of the city were especially hospitable, and invitations to all sorts of entertainment were of frequent occurrence. A festival on the 12th, where not only the delicacies of the season were served, but where literary and elocutionary ability were displayed, was long memorable in regimental circles. Also long remembered was Monday, the 15th, when large details June 15, '63 assisted in bearing to the several hospitals the grievously wounded from Chancellorsville, many of whom had been lying on the field for almost two weeks with scant attention, some having suffered the amputation of limbs at the hands of Confederate surgeons. Carried upon stretchers as gently as possible, some of them fully two miles, through the intense heat, some died on the way, many more soon after arriving. While people along the route did all that they could do to alleviate their suffering, the condition of these unfortunate men was a startling lesson to all of the awful possibilities of war.

It would be very strange if the guarding of the White House grounds did not occasion some meetings with the President. Of William S. Sumner, Company H, a second cousin of Senator Charles Sumner, the following is related: He had been stationed at a path, leading across a recently seeded lawn, the path having formed a short cut to one of the departments. Several officers had been turned back, when Sumner saw the president approaching to take the cut-off himself. He was promptly halted when the President exclaimed, "What's up, Sentry?" To this, the sentinel replied, "The grass is up, Mr. Lincoln." Looking down at his feet, the president said, "Some of it would be down, if I crossed over the lawn. I gave the order to place a sentinel here and I am just ready to be an offender." He commended the soldier for obeying his orders so strictly, even to halting the President, and Sumner was also commended by his own officers. Later when a comrade of his company had obtained a sick furlough and could not secure transportation, Sumner went with him to the White House, to present the case to Mr. Lincoln, who, remembering the incident of the hold-up at the lawn, readily wrote a line to the quartermaster which speedily brought the desired means of going home.

The campaign which was to reach its culmination at Gettysburg was well under way. Lee was headed northward and Union Governors were speeding troops towards the South to assist in driving him back. Naturally, expectation was at fever heat and every rumor simply added to the excitement. Some of the men who visited Baltimore to escort thither certain prisoners found the city with barricades in the streets and negroes working on fortifications, all under the apprehension of the coming of the rebel army. Friday, the 26th, under the tidings that the enemy was near Fort Massachusetts, north of Georgetown, the regiment was ordered to be in readiness to move at a moment's notice. Ammunition was given out and, in light marching order, the men were excitedly expectant when the order came to turn in and "snooze." As the sequel showed, had the Thirty-ninth and other regiments marched out beyond Tenallytown, a great wagon-train might have been saved, but those in command had not the power of reading the future.

How near the men came to meeting Stuart's Cavalry appeared a little later. Rumors were afloat as to some sort of disaster on the Maryland side of the Potomac and not so very far away from the District. The result was that late at night, orders were received to start at once for the scene of depredation and after a rapid march of several miles beyond the Chain Bridge, line of battle was formed at about two o'clock in the morning of the 29th. If all concerned could have known that the terrible Stuart and his men were many miles away at the time, with no thought whatever of molesting Washington or its defenders, very likely the impromptu bivouac or "In place, rest" might have been more comfortable than it really was. The event, in which any act on the part of the regiment was altogether lacking, was one more of those audacious deeds for which the Confederate Kleber was famous. Crossing the Potomac at Rowser's Ford somewhat south of Poolesville, under the most difficult circumstances, early in the morning of the 28th, he rode east to Rockville, whence a detachment, a very small one, dashing towards the District, encountered a wagon-train of one hundred and twenty-five vehicles, June 28, '63 heavily loaded, on their way to supply the Union Army, then marching towards the north. Though Stuart was able to retain the train and to take it with him into Pennsylvania, the delays occasioned by it rendered him and his men much less efficient in the great encounter at Gettysburg than they might have been otherwise.

The resignation of General Hooker from the command of the Army of the Potomac had produced many an expression of regret among the rank and file throughout the army, but especially were regrets expressed among the men reared in Massachusetts, the boyhood's home of "Fighting Joe." With the steady progress of the rival armies northward, it was apparent that a great battle was impending, and that all available troops would be called into the fray, though the demand did not come quite as early as expected. While on the banks of the Mississippi, Vicksburg, and around the quiet Pennsylvanian city, Gettysburg, were acquiring new significance in the world's history, the capital city, Washington, was preparing for the celebration of the 4th of July, just as if that were the only matter of importance. To begin with, all guards and patrols were reduced one half in numbers, thus leaving a larger force to participate in the parade. The military escort consisted of the Second District of Columbia Volunteers, the Fourteenth New Hampshire, the Thirty-fourth and Thirty-ninth Massachusetts Regiments. The civic organizations of the city looked and marched their best; the Marine Band discoursed the kind of music for which it was famous. Added interest might have been given to the day, had news from the two great battles, just fought and won, arrived in time. They would have given the celebration the greatest cause for enthusiasm ever had by an Independence Day, not accepting the first one of all. One prosaic participant comments only this, "We marched from seven-thirty to one o'clock; the sun terribly hot." So far as the military features were concerned, the day ended at the Provost marshal's office, where all were reviewed by Generals Heintzelman and Martindale. On reaching their quarters, the soldiers were regaled with as good a dinner as their cooks were able to provide. Another loyal Bay Stater entered on his book these characteristic words, "It was very well, but nothing when compared with Boston celebrations."

Sunday, the 5th, brought to the city general Daniel E. Sickles, minus the leg which he lost on the second day of Gettysburg, out by the peach orchard. A detachment of the Thirty-ninth met the distinguished officer and escorted him to his home. Official news of the surrender of Vicksburg to General Grant was received on the 7th and loyal Washington went wild with marching columns serenading prominent officials and with the general illumination, the Martindale Barracks not accepted. President Lincoln, members of his Cabinet and Major General Halleck were called on and each one responded with an appropriate speech. On the 9th came the orders which, long expected, were not unwelcome, for, though the Washington tour of duty was free from long marches, the risk of battle and the privations of camp, there was ever the thought that the service was not strictly ideal for real soldiers, hence the willingness with which dress coats and other form of superfluous clothing were packed against their possible need in the following winter. Contents for the knapsacks were chosen with considerable more judgment than would have been used nine months before.