Immediately upon landing from the cars we were marched to the “Soldiers’ Retreat” for refreshments. No soldier who has frequented that place needs to be told that we beat a hasty retreat therefrom. I am very confident that the most of the men would gladly have taken the next train back to Rhode Island, if the matter of return tickets had not been entirely overlooked by the master of transportation.

How marked the contrast between our reception in Washington and in Philadelphia! Even to this day pleasant memories remain of the hospitality dispensed to our regiment by the patriotic ladies of the “City of Brotherly Love,” at the famous “Cooper Shop Volunteer Refreshment Saloon,” a hospitality which was extended to all of the “boys in blue” who passed through Philadelphia on their way to the National Capital.

Fancy our feelings when we were informed that our first night in Washington must be spent in this same unsavory “Soldiers’ Retreat.” Acting upon the maxim that “what cannot be cured must be endured,” and in unquestioned obedience to orders, we spread our blankets upon the hard, dirty floor, and taking our huge knapsacks for pillows we wrapped our mantles (poetry for army overcoats) about us and laid down to pleasant dreams of home, and feather beds, and hair mattresses, and other comforts and luxuries to which we had been so long accustomed as to have wholly failed to appreciate them at their proper value. Truly in our case, distance lent enchantment. But to come down to solid, matter-of-fact prose, we didn’t sleep much that night anyway. Whether it was the effects of the heat of the preceding day when we were marching through Baltimore at a “double quick,” with those burdensome knapsacks breaking our backs, or whether it was the souvenirs left by our comrades-in-arms who had occupied that same floor the previous night, I cannot positively affirm, but this one thing I know, that we scratched out a miserable existence until morning, when, after declining without thanks to regale ourselves with the so-called coffee which was furnished us, which our boys affirmed was poor water spoilt, and the turning of the cold shoulder upon the salt junk which was so temptingly spread before us, we cheerfully obeyed the order of our Colonel to “fall in,” and were soon wending our way to East Capitol hill, near the east branch of the Potomac, where, our tents not having arrived, we encamped in the open air, which was far preferable to spending a second night at the “Soldiers’ Retreat.” The soil where we encamped was of a clayey nature, and the surface as free from moisture as polishing powder, and when we awoke on the following morning we had very much the appearance of having slept in an ash-pit.

We remained here but a day or two, when we received orders to join General Casey’s Division, and bidding adieu without regrets to “Camp Misery,” as our boys had named the spot, we were soon on our way across Chain Bridge, and in due season found ourselves on the “sacred soil” of Virginia.

I can never forget a laughable scene which was enacted on Pennsylvania avenue by Company B while on this march. We were on the extreme left of the line. In front of a tonsorial saloon on the avenue our boys espied a Dutchman who formerly carried on business in Pawtucket. The surprise at the unexpected meeting was mutual on the part of the barber and the boys. It was his habit when a customer entered his shop to inquire as to whether he preferred the water hot or cold, but for any one to repeat the question in his presence, whether on the street or elsewhere, was sure to stir up the barber’s ire. Immediately upon seeing him standing in front of his shop, our boys began to sing out, “Vater hot, or vater cold?” The old Dutchman became terribly excited, and the result was that that portion of the procession which was composed of Company B became sadly demoralized. As soon as our officers took in the situation, order was at once restored, and a few minutes of “double quick” enabled us to regain our position in line. But no sooner had this been done than we saw coming directly toward us, down the avenue, a regiment which had the appearance of having just come from “the front.” It was a new and strange sight to us, those “battle-scarred veterans” of the war, and we made up our minds that the right thing for us to do was to tender them a reception. Without any orders from our officers, and without even their knowledge, we immediately came to “company front” and presented arms, to the great amusement and evident astonishment of those old soldiers. This action on our part caused us to receive a well-merited reprimand from our officers, and it was the first and only performance of the kind in which Company B bore a conspicuous part.

Chapter III.

Of the movements of the Eleventh regiment while in Virginia, I will not weary you with a rehearsal in detail. Our first regular camp was established on Miner’s Hill, the extreme outer part of the defenses of Washington, and when we reached it on a cold, raw, blustering day late in the fall of 1862, the wind filling our eyes and mouths with a blinding and grinding dust, it was the most dismal and dreary-looking place that I ever saw—with the single exception of Seekonk Plains. We remained here about three months, building and stockading our winter quarters, drilling and doing picket duty, and making occasional raids when we felt sure that the enemy was a safe distance from us. We were in General Robert Cowdin’s brigade, which comprised, in addition to our own regiment, the Fortieth Massachusetts, the Twenty-second Connecticut, the One Hundred and Forty-first New York, and the Sixteenth Virginia Battery.

Company B had a fund of one thousand dollars which was raised by the patriotic citizens of Pawtucket and Central Falls for the purpose of enabling the officers to procure for the members of the company, among other things, some articles for the table when we were in camp which were not to be found on the government “bill of fare.” In consequence of this “company fund” we had a greater share of “extras” than any other company in the regiment while we were encamped in the vicinity of Washington. Among those “extras” were milk for our coffee and tea (fresh when it could be obtained, and condensed at other times); writing paper, envelopes and stamps; a copy of the Washington “Daily Chronicle” for each mess, and a weekly pictorial paper; blacking, oil, sand paper, emery paper, polishing powder, soap, matches, green apples, tallow candles and other delicacies of the season. The extra candles were used on special occasions, such as the reception of friends from home, and so forth. Naturally enough the members of the other companies looked upon us at times with envious eyes. The historian of the regiment writes thus of Company B: “Their company fund was large, their friends with money many, and their visitors, who always remembered them handsomely, numerous.” We did, indeed, have quite a number of visitors from home while we were encamped near Washington, and I can assure you that their visits were always occasions of great pleasure to us. Later they became like angels’ visits, “few and far between.”

The first death in our company occurred at Miner’s Hill, and the funeral ceremonies were deeply impressive. The ambulance containing the remains of our dead comrade was preceded by an escort composed of the non-commissioned staff of the regiment, (the