Preparations—We move north by railroad—Details of the ride—March from the railroad—Night on the frozen ground—Feelings and conduct of the soldiers toward the citizens—Night at Martinsburg—March to Mexico—Character of the citizens—Bad conduct of certain of the men—What the Major "did about it"—His speech—Its effect—An excess of quinine and lack of bread—Return march to Martinsburg—The New Year—March to Wellsville—Sickness—Conduct and character of Surgeon Edwards—Foraging and plundering—Movement of troops to the front—Anxiety to go with them—Fort Donelson—Discontent at being left in the rear—Trial and release of Col. Williams—He assumes command and begins reform—Marching orders.

General Sherman issued an order that Christmas should be observed in all respects as the Sabbath. But the Third Iowa could not comply with it. It was with us a day of preparation, tumult and glee. We expected to move that day. The order had been read at dress parade the previous night, that we would be ready to move at a moment's notice with forty rounds of ammunition. But we were delayed on account of transportation which had not been issued to us. Those who were unable to march on account of sickness were left in the barracks we had occupied under charge of our assistant surgeon, Dr. Cool.

At 7 A.M. on the 26th, our regiment marched to the railroad depot. Major Stone was in command Col. Scott having been detailed on a military commission. We waited in the cold till about noon for our baggage wagons to be brought up and loaded on the train. We had no rations in our haversacks; for when we left the barracks we had nothing to cook. Finally, to the great joy of all, the train moved out, and three o'clock in the afternoon found us opposite St. Charles. After many delays, seasoned with jokes, curses and cries of "bread," we succeeded in getting across the Missouri and aboard another train of cars and off. It was worthy of note, that for the first time but one in our experience as military railroaders, we were transported in passenger cars. For the consolation of the inner man, we drew from our quartermaster fifteen loaves of bread to the company, but no "small fishes." With these we appeased our stomachs, outraged by famine since Christmas noon. At length night came, and we could no longer enjoy looking at the scenery through which we were passing: so we hitched ourselves together as best we could (for the cars were crowded to their utmost capacity), and went to sleep. Whenever we awoke, until late in the morning, we could feel the unsteady motion of the carriages. Morn broke upon us at Warrenton. It was not a little amusing to view the scene which daylight ushered in. Some were sleeping on the seats, some between the seats, some in the aisles; lying on top of each other for pillows; horizontal, inclined and vertical; sometimes the head highest, sometimes the heels. Loud were the barkings of incipient consumptives; hoarse the groans of those whose hunger was not yet appeased, and dire the vengeance denounced against the bridge-burners who had put us to all this hardship.

The scenery through which we passed was lovely, even in the gray shroud of winter.

At 10 A.M. we arrived at Florence, and had scarcely finished our breakfasts, when six companies, R, E, F, H, I and K, were ordered to get ready to march. The remaining four companies were left to guard the place, considered an important one; for it was the farthest point northward from St. Charles to which the cars could run, the track being injured and the wires cut beyond it.

We, the battalion that marched, were joined by a company of German cavalry of the 1st Regiment Missouri Reserve Corps, and immediately moved toward the west. A march of three miles brought us to the town of Danville, from which a small column of Union troops, commanded by Brig. Gen. Henderson of the State Militia, had marched an hour previous. We followed him, but by a shorter and less traveled road. The snow which had fallen some days previous, was not yet melted away in the timber, through which, most of the way, our road led us. Night found us marching on. The sky was clear and the stars sparkled brilliantly above us. The keen air quickly congealed the running snow, and rendered the hills so slippery that it was not without much difficulty and danger that the wagons could follow us.

We camped for the night on a meadow, bordering on a small stream of excellent water and surrounded on all sides by timber. It was ten o'clock before the wagons got up, and we then discovered that our quartermaster had no bread for us. By some means the supply which had been furnished for us had been left behind. The quartermaster of course had to shoulder the blame. We cooked a scanty supply of bacon, rice and coffee, and slept in battle line away from our camp-fires, fearing a surprise. Our bed was the frozen ground; our tents the sky. Our thin woolen blankets furnished little protection against the keen air. We lay on our backs, and, if our heads were not smothered in our blankets, watched the stars, but doubtless with different emotions from those of the devout old Chaldean shepherds; and when we slept, we dreamed of—Heaven knows what. Some were at Valley Forge; one retreated all night from Moscow; and many fled to their warm firesides at home.

As morning streaked the east, we shook the stupor of our cold slumber from our limbs, and tried to dispel the gloom from our minds. Some of us had actually been sleeping on four inches of snow. Our breakfast, the same fare as our previous supper, afforded us little cheer. At half past seven o'clock we were again on the move. We marched slowly, doubtless, in order that our bread wagons which were coming could overtake us. In this we were disappointed.

We camped on a beautiful meadow, having made but nine miles. The Major had some hogs killed for our benefit; but this was not the only kind of fresh meat seen in our camp that night. The feeling in our ranks toward the citizens of this section was one of extreme bitterness. We believed that they were guilty, at least in part, of the depredations which had rendered our presence among them necessary. To take up arms against us; to hide in the brush and shoot down our stragglers; to crawl up under cover of night and assassinate our pickets; to prowl about the country in guerrilla bands, and attack our small detachments; to burn railroad bridges and cut telegraph wires; to act as spies for the enemy; to give him shelter, food and cheer; and then, if captured in arms, to claim the rights of a prisoner of war; if without arms, to claim protection as a non-combatant, or, what is still worse, as a Union man; such we knew from experience to be the character of a large portion of the disloyal citizens of Missouri.

A soldier admires open enemies if they are brave. There is nothing that he despises as he despises such enemies as these. "Hang them if they act as spies or bridge-burners. Subsist our armies upon them. Confiscate their property and put it to the use of war. A war waged against such traitors ought to support itself. Give us such a leader as Jim Lane. Nothing short of his policy would do. We never would end the war until we showed traitors that we considered treason a crime." Such sentiments were canvassed freely in our ranks and found no contradictors. But we were only soldiers. We could not shape the policy of the Government in reference to the traitors. We were to execute the will of the commanding general. We could not take a chicken from the premises of an enemy in arms, without violating orders from our superiors. It is a correct maxim, that soldiers should not plunder. It is likewise a correct maxim that an army should not suffer from hunger while marching through the country of men who by acts of treason have forfeited all right to the protection of the Government. We reasoned that the commanding general should authorize impressments of food for our use when we needed it as we did then. At all events we ought not to suffer from hunger, and if food could not be obtained properly, it must at least be obtained. Such was the reasoning which prompted the little nocturnal expeditions which went out from our camp, in spite of the active measures of the Major to prevent them, and which resulted in supplying some of the necessities we lacked.

The following day, December 29th, was clear and beautiful. We waited for the rear wagons till about noon; but they did not arrive and we took up the march. The ground thawed, and before night, the mud was deep and the march difficult. We camped for the night on a broad prairie near Martinsburg Station on the North Missouri Railroad. We obtained water by cutting holes through the ice of a pond which rests against the railway embankment and supplies a tank. The ice was about three inches thick. Most of us pitched tents and pulled grass and made beds. About 7 P.M. we were rejoiced at the appearance of the long expected bread wagons.

December 30th broke soft and balmy, the wind blowing from the south. At ten o'clock we heard dull sounds upon the wind as of a distant conflict of arms. It was not imagination. Every one heard them, and we were all curiosity to know their meaning. Soon after, a number of scouts arrived from Mexico with orders to Major Stone to hurry on to that place. They at the same time brought reports of an engagement in that vicinity. We moved without delay. The column kept the railroad track till within about three miles of Mexico, when it took a wagon road to the left. The mud was deep, and wagons several times stalled and men had to be detailed to lift them out. These accidents caused temporary delays, so that we did not reach Mexico till 9 P.M. We found here a force under Brig. Gen. Schofield, of the State troops. Gen. Henderson had just left in pursuit of the enemy. Of the cause of the firing we had heard, we could learn nothing. It might have been a skirmish. It was more likely a detachment discharging their pieces to get the loads out of them.

Our battalion was quartered in a large vacant building. We found the inhabitants of the place intensely disloyal. A newspaper had just been issued at the printing office, one side of which was belabored over with treasonable articles and extracts. This being completed, the editor had fled on the approach of the Union troops, leaving the typos to complete the paper, which they did, accommodating the other side to the views of the new comers. Their unionism was sickeningly submissive.

During the night and the following morning, a number of excesses were committed by members of our regiment, among which was breaking into a liquor shop owned by a secessionist, and emptying seven barrels of that delectable article into a ditch.

This affair being committed in the presence of a large number of citizens, greatly and justly incensed the Major, who called out the battalion, had roll-call in all the companies; when he mounted a box, and made a speech, in which he denounced such conduct, accusing us of having prostituted ourselves "and disgraced our State," and reproving us in unpleasant terms for having railed at our surgeon for giving us too much quinine, and at our quartermaster for giving us too little bread. He did not fail, however, to compliment us as having "stood before the enemy where fire and earthquake led the charge." After sundry similar compliments, denunciations and threats, he dismissed us, and allowed us to go to our quarters. Whatever apparent reason there might have been for this performance, it totally failed in producing a good effect upon the regiment. The men went away with the opinion that to make a boisterous speech in the streets of a public town, and to humiliate his men in the face of their enemies, did not become a military chieftain. Those who had not been guilty of any offenses felt the wrong most keenly.

It is true that whenever a halt had been ordered on the march hither, our quartermaster had been assailed with cries of "bread," our surgeon with cries of "quinine." In this respect we were undoubtedly "demoralized." But were these men abusing their superiors without a cause, or were they replying to abuse? The quartermaster furnished transportation for vinegar, beans and two negro servants, articles which are of no use to any army on the march, and the surgeon hauled his own private effects in the ambulances, while men marched in the ranks carrying heavy knapsacks and shaking with the ague. It is better to suffer abuse than to be insubordinate; but men do not always properly appreciate this doctrine; and to correct his conduct belongs first to his officer, then to the soldier.

At 4 P.M. General Schofield placed himself at the head of our battalion, and we moved back in the direction whence we had come. The troops took the railroad track. For the first three miles our route lay through timber, and then we reached a level stretch of prairie ten or twelve miles wide, the rank, dry grass affording an opportunity of setting a prairie fire, such as we had so often seen on our own prairies of Iowa. It was a temptation which we could not resist. Before eight o'clock the whole vault of night was illuminated. Lines of flame extended as far as the gaze could reach, sending up immense columns of red smoke. The clouds blazed like a sea of fire, and shed upon us a strange red light, which made our march almost as plain as day. We moved at a rapid rate, making but one or two short halts, and these in consequence of the wagons sticking in the mud. No one gave out; there was no straggling. Only a few sick men got aboard the wagons. General Schofield was surprised at the endurance of the men. He asked Major Stone if his men generally marched as well; and when the Major told him they did, he complimented them highly.

At 10 P.M. we reached Martinsburg, a distance of thirteen miles from Mexico, where we halted to pass the remainder of the night. We got our baggage unloaded, made our beds on the wet ground, covered ourselves with blankets and tents and tried to sleep. But the wind shifted to the northwest, and blew so hard that all our covering availed us little.

The New Year dawned with a sky overcast with gloomy clouds and with a boisterous northwest wind. The world without us corresponded exactly with the world within us. All was gloom. A few New Year's greetings were exchanged, and many fond thoughts went back to the happy firesides we had exchanged for the cheerless camp fires, the days of hunger and fatigue, the weary marches and watches, and the fearful chances of war.

In the middle of the day we moved five miles further to Wellsville, where General Schofield established his headquarters.

We took quarters in the vacant buildings and the first night slept on the cold floors, as crowded as though we had been in cattle cars on the Hannibal & St. Joseph Railroad. That night, or rather the next morning at two o'clock, three companies of our regiment, and one of the cavalry, went ten or twelve miles into the country expecting to surprise a company of guerrillas, but did not find them.

Our quarters were crowded and inadequate; but we accommodated ourselves to them cheerfully. The exposures of the past week had reduced many to the sick list. Surgeon Edwards treated our sick outrageously. I firmly believe that more than one good soldier died for no other reason than his neglect. Those in his hospital he left without food and proper nursing for twenty-four hours at a time. He absolutely refused to hear the complaints of twenty men reported on one sick list, declaring that they were malingerers, that it was impossible for such a number to be sick. Two or three of these men were coughing blood; others had raging fevers.

It affords me especial pleasure to do this man justice. He was one of the most learned and skillful physicians of our State. His physical endurance, and capability of long exertion was such as few men possess; and yet, save when in some particular freak of good humor, he seemed to give his attentions most grudgingly, and to take a fiendish delight in abusing sick men of which we can scarcely believe human nature capable. If he survives this war it will be to receive the heartfelt execrations of those of my comrades who survive it.

For some time this part of our regiment remained in statu quo at Wellsville. The other battalion of it still remained at Florence under Captain Herron. The monotony of our situation at Wellsville was relieved by bringing in from the surrounding country various classes of persons as prisoners: sympathizers, bridge-burners, bushwhackers, blatant traitors and members of Price's old State Guard. Whatever excesses we may have committed with or without excuse upon citizen enemies, when they were in our power, we treated them with the respect due to prisoners of war. At one time our guard house contained upwards of twenty prisoners, citizens and soldiers. They were disposed of in various ways. Some were sent to St. Louis for trial. Some were transferred to Alton. Most were released on giving bonds to the United States.

For the first time since being in Missouri, we subsisted our animals entirely upon forage taken from disloyal citizens. For this purpose, foraging parties went out nearly every day. Notwithstanding the stringent orders under which their commanders were placed, they were generally the occasion for carrying off whatever the soldier could find that would suit his appetite better than bacon and pilot bread. I never heard, however, of any outrages being committed in houses, the operations being seldom extended beyond the poultry yard, pig sty and potato bin.

On the 23d of January, all of our regiment was moved west, and distributed along the railroad at four different places; Mexico, Allen, Sturgis and Huntsville. Everything now went well. Our quarters, surroundings and duties were most pleasant. We were in the midst of civilization and social cheer. The Union had many friends in Missouri, and they entertained us generously. We were again seeing the halcyon days of a soldier's life; but we did not know it. We wanted glory. When Grant moved up the Tennessee we wanted to be with him. Many troops went from Missouri to reinforce him; but we were left behind. Fort Henry was taken, and we were not there. But the land forces had won no laurels in that operation. We hoped that we might be sent to take part in the reduction of Fort Donelson. But no. Train after train went past us loaded with troops from General Hunter's department, all going to reinforce Grant; but still we were left behind. Curtis was moving; Grant was moving; Buell was moving; McClellan was moving; Burnside was moving. The army was advancing at all points, and we were left behind, guarding railroads and keeping down guerrillas. At length Fort Donelson fell. A thrill of joy electrified the nation. A universal burst of praise went up for the gallant men who there had fought so well. General Halleck telegraphed to Governor Kirkwood, "The 2d Iowa have proved themselves the bravest of the brave." And yet we were doing garrison duty in the rear. What had we done to merit less than these comrades of ours? Had we failed our country in the hour of trial? Had we done so little, suffered so little, and complained so much? Since Ft. Donelson, all the little battles of the war were forgotten. Blue Mills had dwindled into an insignificant affair. When we read the glowing accounts of these three days of battle, we almost ceased to be proud of it ourselves. A soldier would rather die than be behind in honor. We begged for a chance. We had no fears for the rest. At length we began to despair. We feared it was the intention of the commanding general to keep us behind always. We began to be ashamed of ourselves. We were ashamed to date our letters from Missouri. We would have blushed to look our friends in the face; for who thought of us now?

Meanwhile the trial of Colonel Williams was taking place at St. Louis. Witnesses went and came. It was protracted from day to day. Among the enlisted men of the regiment, the feeling was still strong and bitter against him. Finally it was announced that he would be released. It was without much disappointment; for we had watched the developments of the trial, and expected this event. At length it was reported that he would join us, and that we should then be taken to the front. We rejoiced.

On the 25th of February, Colonel Williams arrived at regimental headquarters, Mexico, Missouri. Companies F and K were stationed here. The latter received him with some courtesy; the former with marked disdain. The memories of Chariton bridge still rankled in their bosoms. Nevertheless, we were disposed to be hopeful. We hoped that his long arrest had furnished an opportunity for meditation and repentance, and that he would be more careful of his conduct now. This was the case. Before his arrival we did every thing slackly. We almost began to forget that we were soldiers. The first thing he did was to enforce discipline. He instituted regular roll-calls, drills twice a day, and daily dress parades. He did nothing that we could complain of, although we watched him with the eyes of cynics. Day by day our former prejudices against him began to wear away. Almost imperceptibly those hitherto antagonistic elements, the colonel and his men, began to harmonize. Colonel Williams was a wiser officer, and we were better soldiers.

On the 3d of March, it was announced, amid great rejoicing, that we would leave for the south as soon as transportation should arrive to take us away.