We break up camp at Keokuk—The parting occasion—The last lingering look—A pleasant steamboat ride—Two nights and a day at Hannibal—We advance by rail into the interior of Missouri—Dangers attending the movement—We halt at Chillicothe, Grand River bridge, and Utica—Leaving the cars and camping for the night—Condition of the country—Our first night alarm—How we celebrated the Fourth of July—Our uniform—Our rations—Our discipline—Col. Williams arrives and assumes command—Col. Smith visits and consults with him—Another false alarm.

Reveille sounded at the appointed hour. We pulled down our tents, packed our baggage and camp equipage in boxes (for as yet we had no knapsacks), and by daylight were ready to move. But it took considerable time to convey the baggage to the boats, and we passed the interval in singing patriotic songs and listening to speeches which were delivered by a number of comrades amid the greatest applause. Brilliant was the prospect before us. It looked like a march of victory. Price had been defeated at Booneville, and had fled with a few followers to the borders of Arkansas. There was nothing before us, we thought, but to occupy a conquered country, and while preparing for a general advance, to wipe out the irregular parties which straggled in his wake. A vain delusion! A single fortnight would undeceive.

At length we formed battalion, and marched through the city to the levee, where the two steam ferry boats, "Gate City" and "Hamilton Belle," lashed together, lay waiting to receive us. We went aboard, amid displays of the greatest enthusiasm on the part of the citizens, to which our hearts, overflowing with pride and patriotism, and, as yet, unchilled by the realities we were to encounter, sent up a long response. At length the boats moved out amid a storm of cheers from citizens on shore and soldiers on board, as loud as a young battle, and when, by reason of the distance, our mutual voices could no longer be heard, we saw the vast throng waving their adieus, and as we sped down the willing waters, we watched with a lingering look the brick city crowning the bold hills, recede through the driving mist till it vanished. It was like taking the last look at homes and firesides. To many it was the last look indeed.

And now, as if to dispel the sad thoughts which filled our minds, we instinctively turned our looks southward whither we were going.

The day was gloomy; but it could not destroy the pleasant effect of the scenery through which we passed. The banks on either side rising majestically under their weight of forest, or gently receding in green fields, with many a little cottage quietly stowed away in their shady nooks; the beautiful towns with their fine residences and shady walks, where, as we passed, the people waved their little flags and white handkerchiefs in applause; the islands—like visions of paradise upon the peaceful waters—fled past us—a panorama of enchanting beauty.

Toward evening we arrived at the beautiful city of Hannibal, and were quartered in two large railroad freight houses, the gravel floors of which constituted our hard beds. The work of unloading and unpacking our baggage furnished a scene of indescribable confusion. It was impossible for every one to find what belonged to him; and what one lost out of his own, he generally endeavored to make up from his neighbor's pile,—a game in which some succeeded much better than others. In this situation we passed the following day, which was a beautiful one, waiting for the train to arrive which was to take us westward over the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad.

We formed the acquaintance of several members of the Sixteenth Illinois, two companies of which were stationed here. They doted largely on the good times they were having, and how much they enjoyed the hospitality of the good Union people of Hannibal. Toward evening our regiment marched through the city and had a dress parade, which was witnessed by a large crowd of citizens.

The following morning, July 1st, we got on board a long passenger train with our effects, and, at ten o'clock, the whistle sounded and we moved on. Passing out of the city, and all along the route, the citizens greeted us with many demonstrations of enthusiasm. But we already began to get tired of this. We began to do less cheering and waving of hats, and more sober thinking about our situation and the realities we were about to encounter. We were moving into the enemy's country without a knapsack, haversack, or canteen,—without a mule or wagon of transportation,—without a cartridge box or a cartridge,—nothing but empty muskets with bright bayonets. The country was on fire with treason. The people were everywhere organizing to resist the Federal forces. The Union people received us joyfully; but according to their own statements, they were in a minority, hesitating, purposeless, powerless. It is true, that at Hannibal they had organized three companies of home guards who had one piece of artillery. Such was the condition of things when, almost totally unequipped, we moved into the interior of Missouri. The risk was enormous. It was alike a risk of safety and of reputation. The railroad led directly through the country where Brigadier General Thomas Harris was organizing his rebel forces. A hundred determined men could have thrown our train off the track and captured all of us. It is scarcely possible to conceive of greater stupidity than to take troops into such a country in this condition. We were perfectly helpless. We could not have withstood fifty armed men. The ignorance of the enemy alone was our good fortune.

But we dismissed apprehensions, and occupied our minds with contemplating the beautiful landscape on either side of us. There was an indescribable charm in this railroad ride. It was moving upon the enemy at a rate we had never dreamed of. The forests were full of wild flowers and song birds whose notes we could not hear; the level prairie sometimes stretching away in endless distance, sometimes bounded by long stretches of forest that looked like infantry arrayed for battle; the lofty hills and wide green bottoms—a dissolving view, ever vanishing and reappearing. We were without rations; but the train made frequent halts at the stations, during which we would rush to the stores and buy whatever we wanted.

At dark the train arrived, when two companies under Captain Stone were left as a garrison. Four miles beyond, at the bridge over Grand River, Captain Sladden was left, with his company, C.

A mile further, the train discharged the remaining seven companies at the little village of Utica. It was now nine o'clock at night. Our baggage had to be brought from the cars, (and in those days we carried as much baggage as a division does now), wood and water had to be got, and no one knew where to get it; every thing was to be done; the night was quite dark, and the roads full of ditches. It was a scene, had it been possible to see any thing, of exquisite confusion. No one, unless he has been with them, can appreciate the inconvenience a regiment of young troops experience in camping for the night for the first time under such circumstances. But we managed to get through it all by midnight, and, then, lying down upon the wet ground, without a picket posted or a cartridge at hand, we slept.

The following day we established our camp near the town on a beautiful greensward, surrounded for the most part by young timber. We found the water in its vicinity poor and unwholesome. It was here that our quartermaster treated us for the first time to the luxury of pilot bread, then known by the name of crackers, but since vulgarly called "hard tack"—a luxury we have seldom wanted since. At night we received four rounds of ammunition to the man, and were admonished to be prepared for a sudden attack. Again we had no pickets posted. A vigorous attack by a small party of men would have utterly disorganized us. Let us thank the combination of accidents, which, in spite of the carelessness of our commanding officers, saved us from such a misfortune.

Before the arrival of Federal troops in this section, the rebels had everything their own way. They had organized bands or companies at different points, and by threats and acts of violence had terrified the Union people into silence. But when the troops arrived, these bands precipitately fled, and it became the turn of the Union people to rule and rejoice. On our arrival at Utica two or three rebels showed the cloven foot by endeavoring to escape by flight; but, they were captured, and, after being confined two or three days in our guard tent, they were released on taking the oath, to the great astonishment and indignation of the boys, who proposed various punishments instead, among which hanging figured conspicuously.

On the trip hither it had been announced that Captain John Scott, of Company E, had been appointed Lieutenant Colonel, and Captain William M. Stone, of Company B, Major. Lieut. Col. Scott accordingly assumed command the day after our arrival at this point.

The Fourth of July, 1861, was a day which we shall long remember. It was ushered in by a false alarm about three o'clock in the morning. Two or three shots were fired by the sentinels, and the long roll began to beat at a great rate. We had never heard it before; but we knew well enough what it meant. We jumped out of bed quicker than if a tornado had burst upon us. It took, of course, two or three seconds to get awake. Where were we, and what was to pay? Suddenly the whole thing flashed upon us. We were soldiers and in Missouri, and last night our officer had told us to be ready for a surprise. Imagine a soldier in this predicament! He springs first for his gun, then for his shoes. Where are they? Some one has got them on. It is vain to inquire after them. There is a universal clamor of voices, and no one hears anything except what he says himself. A cool listener outside might distinguish such expressions as these: "Where the devil's my hat?" "Who's got my boots?" "They're right on us; didn't you hear the guards fire?" "Hold up your gun there! You'll jab somebody with your bayonet." "I don't load till I get orders." "There! I've lost my last cartridge." "Fall in! Fall in."

At length he blunders upon a pair of shoes. They are not his; for they do not fit him at all. But he gets one of them on, and suddenly discovers that his pants should come on first. Off come the shoe and on the pants. By this time his head and the tent begin to get clear. He gets on his pants, then his shoes, seizes his gun and falls into the ranks.

On this occasion our companies were promptly formed and dressed. Then there was some shivering, some grumbling and a good deal of standing still and waiting. Strange, thought we, that the rebels had not charged upon us immediately. But perhaps there was none to charge. At length amid hoarse grumblings and suppressed cursings, it was announced that we had been victimized by a false alarm. Accordingly we broke ranks and again went to bed. What was the cause of this alarm? Some said the sentinels had got scared and fired at a hog; others that the commanding officer had gotten it up to exercise the men.

As the morning dawned, a couple of anvils (for we had no cannon) were fired to usher in the consecrated day. It was decided that it should be duly celebrated. After breakfast the battalion was formed and marched to a grove near the village where the exercises were appointed to take place. Here we were joined by a goodly number of citizens. It was an impressive scene. On the soil of our own country, and yet in an enemy's land, citizens and soldiers mingled together—fair faces and gray hairs by the side of glittering bayonets—to celebrate the birthday of our beloved country, now bleeding and almost in the struggle of death. The Declaration of Independence was read in an impressive manner by Lieut. Col. Scott; patriotic songs were sung in which Lieut. Mullarky of our regiment took the lead, and the ladies joined; an appropriate and eloquent oration was delivered by Capt. Newcomb; martial airs were played by the band, and a series of regular toasts were responded to with music and cheers. We then returned to camp.

After dinner it was announced that Major Stone had invited a portion of Col. Scott's people to join him and his in a celebration at Chillicothe. Four companies were allowed the privilege of going. A train of cars conveyed them thither, and from the depot they marched to the place of meeting near the town. The exercises were the same as those of the forenoon, except there was, if possible, more enthusiasm. The Declaration was read by a citizen, Lieut. Col. Scott followed with a speech which was characteristic of the man, generous, honest, and outspoken. He was followed by several citizens who spoke amid frequent and loud applause. Mr. Woolfolk, a young member of the bar, was particularly eloquent. The language and manner in which he referred to the past glory and present distress of our country was sufficient to have touched the heart of the most remorseless traitor. And when he appealed to the patriotism of the people of Missouri, and pointed to the glories won by her sons under Doniphan, the applause was beyond description. When he sat down there was a universal outcry from the soldiers for "Major Stone," "our Presbyterian Major." The Major mounted the stand and held for a few minutes the attention of the assemblage. His commanding figure, his rapid and nervous style of speaking, and his ready wit made a marked impression upon all. He spoke with his usual invective and sarcasm, which was now happily directed against Claib. Jackson, General Price, and their unfortunate followers. Before he closed, the boys asked his permission to have a dance, to which he replied that his religious scruples would not allow him to participate in anything of the kind, but he would watch the gap while they had the fun. He closed amid rapturous applause. We were especially delighted with the patriotic songs sung by a glee club of citizens, most of whom were ladies. But what pleased us almost as well was a tangible manifestation of the hospitality of the Union people of Chillicothe, in the shape of a substantial table of victuals, from which no soldier was allowed to go away hungry. We did not stay to see whether the Major's boys had their proposed dance, nor did we greatly care to; since the boys of Company C had this afternoon sported their new uniforms (our's had not yet been issued to us); and the ladies had appeared quite exclusive in their attentions to them. We returned to our camps, having experienced a revivification of patriotism under circumstances which we shall never forget.

The following day our long desired uniform was issued to us. It consisted of pants and dress coat of fine and substantial gray cloth, trimmed with blue. The pants had the blue cord down the outer seams, and the coat had three buttons on the sleeves instead of two, marks which on the regulation uniform indicate the rank of a commissioned officer. In this some of the boys were disposed to think the State designed conferring an especial mark of honor. In connection with the coat and pants, we received the usual complement of drawers and shirts, two pairs of each. Adding to this the hats and shoes already drawn at Keokuk, we now had a complete uniform, unsurpassed, it was said, by that of any regiment in the service. It was emphatically a dress parade uniform. We prized it highly, and to preserve it, many continued to wear their old clothing as the Colonel had directed. But the advantage of being clothed well and in uniform was in our case not without disadvantages. We were of course compelled to appear on dress parade in full uniform, and with coat buttoned to the chin. Our coats were of wool, and heavily padded, and hence in the hot days of summer this was exceedingly uncomfortable. It is not surprising, then, that, on one of our first dress parades after wearing them, five men fainted and fell from the ranks. It was a winter uniform, heavier than is ever furnished by the Government, and totally unfit to wear on the long marches we were destined to make during the hottest days of the summer. But the chief objection to it was its color. It was the same as that adopted by the enemy. And as we had heard that in one or two instances Federal regiments had committed the blunder of firing into each other, our apprehensions on this point were not very pleasant. This indeed proved to be an insurmountable objection; for after the battle of Blue Mills it was condemned, orders were issued against wearing it, and then we were compelled to pay for it. But the commissioned officers drew a suit apiece, for which, by some "hocus pocus" unknown to privates, they got rid of paying anything. At this time, however, we had not the slightest apprehension that it would be charged to us; and, as we now contrasted our condition with some of the ragged troops we had seen, we could not but feel a sense of gratitude toward the State by whose generosity we supposed it furnished.

This feeling was in decided contrast with the feelings we entertained toward those who managed the department of subsistence. The quantity of rations which we drew, though perhaps as much as the Regulations at that time allowed, was totally inadequate to satisfy our hunger. Of unsubstantials, such as salt, vinegar, soap, and candles, we had plenty. Our supply of meat was also more than we could consume. But of bread, the staff of life, each man received the poor pittance of three hard crackers a day, and of beans, the other article of vegetable diet issued to us, each man got about a pint in eight days. These rations were evidently insufficient for healthy, strong men, who were drilling forenoon and afternoon, and otherwise in constant exercise.

But we found some relief in trading with citizens who daily visited our camp. Butter, milk and vegetables they readily exchanged with us for bacon and coffee. And, thus, with the help of a little money, we managed to live.

To our credit be it said, we had not yet begun to practice the "vandalism," which, in subsequent days, called forth so many General Orders. Hogs and sheep, great and small, ran through our camps unmolested. Gardens grew unpillaged, and fowls roosted unharmed. Our conduct did not give the lie to our professions, and the people had every reason to believe that in estimating us as "vandals," seeking spoils rather than anything else, they had been grossly deceived.

While we were camped at Utica, Col. Williams arrived and assumed command. Of course all watched his conduct with great scrutiny. He was the man who, more than any other, held in his hand our destiny. His proper care would give us supplies, health, discipline, and, in every way, promote our efficiency, good appearance and good name. His conduct in battle would greatly influence the chances of victory and glory on the one hand, and of defeat and disgrace on the other. It is needless to say, that his first acts disappointed us. His efforts to preserve good discipline were certainly commendable; but his decisions were rash and hasty. His temper was quick and ungovernable, and his judgment part of the time under the control of his temper. The least mistake of a soldier was sufficient to put him into a violent fit of rage. Of course such manifestations tended to create a feeling of hatred and contempt toward him on the part of his men; and so frequently did these occur that they soon came to despise, at once, the man, his rank and authority. A state of things more unfortunate to our regiment, and to many of its individual members, could scarcely have occurred.

On Sunday, July 7th, our camp was visited by Col. Smith, of the Sixteenth Illinois, which was then stationed in two detachments, one at Hannibal, and one at Palmyra. It was rumored that he came to concert measures with Col. Williams for a movement against the enemy. But of course whatever was determined on, was kept a secret from us; for which reason some of us thought that the Colonel was acting very ungenerously toward us, and betraying a great lack of confidence in us. Ah, we had something to learn yet.

The same night we were victimized by another false alarm, which was got up by Colonel Williams to exercise us in forming line of battle by night. On this occasion line of battle was formed without much delay, when the Colonel endeavored, but with poor success, to put us through one or two battalion manoeuvers, and then allowed us to go to quarters.