Hardship and Hardtack

Where we meet Lieutenant Bassett and the Officers of his Company

August, 1862

Richard Bassett surveyed the chaos down the hill from where he stood. Below him, men swarmed over the Geneva city pier, knapsacks and blanket rolls slung over their backs, some with shirtsleeves rolled up against the heat, some looking iron-pressed and starched as if for Sunday. Their goal, a squat schooner currently moored to the dock of Seneca Lake. He swore it sank lower and lower in the water as more and more men climbed the gangplank and piled on board.

Even from here, halfway up Castle Street, he could hear the calls the men made to each other, friends greeting friends, sailors directing the newcomers where to store their gear, women calling their last farewells. The 126th New York Volunteers gathered, ready to go to war.

C’mon, Richard. Don’t be so slow. I ain’t never been on a boat that big before.

Beside him, Rass, younger than him by only a few years, craned his neck to see around a wagon that blocked their way. A breeze caught the younger man’s unruly brown hair, blowing a hank of it into his face. Impatient, he smoothed it back and Richard chuckled. While both brothers wore their hair in the longer style currently fashionable, Richard had recently had his cut to a short two inches long so as to keep it out of the way. Rass, however, opted for the longer waves because, as he said, it gives the girls something to play with.

Richard hadn’t given up his beard, however. In fact, he felt right proud of it…a full five inches of growth that he combed each morning and trimmed once a week. But no sideburns. Those he shaved each morning. Made his beard look neater, in his opinion.

We’ll get there before she leaves, don’t you worry, little brother.

Wiping the damp hair that clung to his forehead in the heat of an August morning that promised to be a scorcher, Richard shaded his eyes so he wouldn’t need to squint. Gently rocking at the dock floated an out-of-date, somewhat rickety steamer that had seen better days. Commandeered for the business of transporting troops for the United States Army, he wished the skipper had spent some of the money the Union paid him to invest in new paint for the old bucket meant to carry them off to war. It swarmed with soon-to-be Union soldiers, their dark shapes stark against the peeling white bulkhead.

How did the Army think a thousand men would fit on a steamer that had seen far better days? His gaze roved over the soldiers until he found his commanding officer, Colonel Eliakim Sherrill, standing on the deck. The tiny hope that he and Rass had the wrong boat dissipated at the sight.

Richard snapped the reins and guided their wagon to the first open post he found. Let’s get the trunk down and find Samuel’s boy so he can take the wagon and horses back home.

He watched Rass dodge through the crowd that had come to give the New York 126th Volunteer Infantry Regiment a proper send off. On the side of the dock, a brass band played rousing, patriotic tunes and Richard gave a bemused smile as he hitched the horses to the post. The music was fine, but he didn’t need any songs to tell him he’d been right to enlist. The South was wrong to want to split the Union, and he intended to help those rebels see the errors of their ways.

I’ll get one end of the trunk, Dick, if’n you get the other. Rass popped up beside Richard, bustling with energy of a twenty-year-old off on a glorious adventure. With the Bassett unruly brown hair and deep brown eyes, Erasmus had already broken the hearts of several girls at home.

With a pang, Richard thought of his wife Mary, once again wishing she could’ve made the journey to Geneva to see him off. But with two little boys, the distance from their farm outside Dundee to the fair city of Geneva became an exercise in frustration. The trip had taken his brother and him over four hours yesterday and if he’d tried to make the trip with Mary and the boys, the time would’ve been even longer. Resolutely, he put all thoughts of his wife and children behind him. They’d already said their goodbyes.

The two dropped down the tailgate of the wagon and pulled forward the single trunk they would share. Rass didn’t get to bring a trunk because he didn’t hold a high enough rank. But since Richard had been elected as first Lieutenant by the men of his company, he got more allowances. With the ease of men who’d spent their lives in the field, they grabbed the sides of the trunk and swung it to the ground. Rass groaned and grabbed his back, exaggerating his movements as he teased his older brother.

I sure hope the Army knows what it’s doing, letting you bring this thing. Most of the time it’ll be in the baggage wagons ‘cause we’ll be marching off into battle.

Richard snorted. Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, brother. The real life of a soldier is a lot of boredom interrupted by a few hours of excitement every month or so.

Rass stretched his nearly six-foot-tall frame and looked around for his friends. I ain’t gonna be bored, that’s for sure. He thumped the trunk with his foot. Too bad George signed up early. He could’ve put his stuff in there, too.

Richard peered at the line of men waiting to board ship. They had heard from their youngest brother a few weeks ago. His health was good and his spirits strong although he missed being home and bringing in the hay. They were a family of farmers and only a threat to the Union could’ve brought them away from the land and away from each other.

George had already been in the army for nine months—one of the first to answer President Lincoln’s call for troops. Rass wanted to go then, too, but Richard had talked him out of it, first telling him the family had already given a son to the cause, then telling him Pa needed him on the farm. Richard never had any intention of going to war himself. Not at the age of thirty-two and with a wife and two boys to take care of, but George’s letters, and the call for new recruits, coupled with Erasmus’ enthusiasm and the South’s stubbornness, finally combined to change his mind. When Colonel Sherrill had come through Dundee earlier that summer, he decided to enlist for a three-year period, figuring the war should finally be done in that amount of time. Like so many others, he thought the South would have fallen in line long before this. But they hadn’t and the President had put out the call for more volunteers. After several long discussions with both his father and with Mary, Richard joined the Army.

C’mon, Dick! Erasmus tugged on his brother’s arm. Look, Mel’s got his gear together already. With a grin and a dash, the youngest of the Bassett boys dashed off to meet up with his friend, leaving him to deal with the trunk himself.

Despite the years between them, the two brothers had always shared a special bond. He watched Rass greet his best friend Mel, both of them reaching out to shake hands and grinning from ear-to-ear like a matched pair of fools. They saw this journey as a grand adventure and eagerly made their way on board, talking and pointing out the girls as they went.

Richard didn’t begrudge Rass this last bit of freedom. Calling to another soldier for help, the two of them hoisted the heavy trunk onto the steamer. Spaces filled rapidly, so he just pointed to a large empty spot, deciding it could live in the corner of the deck for the trip along the lake.

Richard, glad to see you made it.

He turned at the voice. Good to be here, Captain. Fine day for sailing.

William Coleman stood behind him, his suit impeccable even if a few beads of sweat glistened at his sideburns. None of them had uniforms yet - they'd be given them when they reached their destination, although Richard had no idea where that might be. A handsome man with piercing eyes, Coleman's easy manner belied a fierce determination to lead his men to war - and back home again.

Captain Coleman took off his hat and waved it in the August heat. Fine day to be out on the lake where it’ll be cooler, you mean. The gentleman wiped his brow with a clean handkerchief and replaced his hat. Known for his incredible intelligence and quick understanding, the men had elected William A. Coleman for the captain of the 126th Regiment’s Company B. Richard felt honored to be the man’s second-in-command. It didn’t hurt that the captain’s beard rivaled his own in both thickness and trim.

Have you reported in to Colonel Sherrill yet? The captain stepped aside to let several men pass.

Not yet. Just got here.

He’s up by the steamer’s bridge. Come on, I’ll take you up.

Following, Richard greeted several of the men they passed. The US Army formed regiments when enough men from one location signed up to serve in the Union cause. They grouped men from the same geographical location into the same divisions within the regiment figuring that those who knew each other would watch each other’s backs more effectively.

As a result, he knew almost all the men in his company if not by name, at least by sight. The men of the 126th New York Volunteers all hailed from the same area of central New York. The men of Company B came from PennYan, Dundee and Dresden while other companies in the regiment were made up of men from their own neighboring towns.

They reached the area Captain Coleman had called the bridge. The sight did not fill Richard with hopes for a fast journey. The tiny area had enough room for the pilot and the captain of the vessel and that was about it. Colonel Sherrill stood outside the small room, conferring with the two men inside.

Captain Coleman preceded him up the ladder to Colonel Sherrill's side. With his shock of white hair and piercing eyes, Richard had always felt Eliakim Sherrill saw far more than the pundits would have you believe. The man was a political powerhouse in the county and had his share of detractors. Richard didn’t count himself among them. In his opinion, Sherrill always put the best interests of his constituents first. Now the man had put his country first and when he’d approached Richard about joining the fight, Richard had enlisted, feeling confident in the man who would lead them into battle.

The upper deck of the steamer hadn’t been built for this many people to occupy. Richard could stand at the top of the ladder, but move no further as there wasn’t anywhere else to go but down. Or over. He purposefully didn’t look over the side of the boat lest vertigo make him unbalance.

Still, he tried to come to attention as much as he could. Lieutenant Richard Bassett, reporting for duty, sir!

At ease, Lieutenant . Colonel Sherrill returned the salute. Beautiful day, isn’t it? The sunlight beat down unmercifully hot. Not a single cloud in the sky alleviated the August morning. Looking out over Geneva, the heat shimmered, making the town seem as if it too, floated on water. Sweat rolling down his back, Richard nodded. Beautiful day, sir. Perfect time to be out on the water.

The colonel laughed. With any luck it’ll be cooler out there on the lake than just sitting here at this blasted dock!

A sergeant approached the two officers and saluted without making any attempt to climb the ladder. Everyone is aboard, sir.

Good. Let’s get under way, then, shall we?

And with no more ceremony, the boat’s captain blew the whistle, and the steamer pulled out to make its way along Seneca Lake. Women waved their handkerchiefs from the dock, old men flourished their canes, and a thousand men waved from the decks as the boat slowly slid away from shore.

The steamer would take them all the way to Watkins Glen at the southern most tip of the lake, a distance of over forty miles. As if he were reading Richard’s thoughts, the colonel informed him, We should reach the other end of the lake in about eight-and-a-half hours. By the time this voyage is finished, we’ll be as glad to get off as we were to get on. Enjoy the breeze.

Richard climbed down to the lower deck, glad to have firmer footing beneath him. He made his way to the back of the boat watching the city recede in the distance.

Dick! Ain’t this grand? Look at all the people! They come to wave us off! Erasmus waved back at the crowd they now passed, his arm pumping as furiously as he could. Richard figured this must be One Mile Point, which meant they made good time along the lake. In another few hours they’d be passing by home.

Seneca Lake stretched out as longest of the Finger Lakes—and the bluest, Richard decided as he idly watched the shore pass by. Not a cloud in the sky marred the perfect mirror of water nestled deep in a crevice, dug millennium ago by receding ice caps. A breeze blew from the west and rippled the water and he raised his head toward the heights.

They passed a vineyard, the vines loaded with dark purple clusters that would soon ripen. Grapes were a fairly new crop to the region and he had thought about putting in a few vines himself just to see how they did. At the church harvest festival the year before, he’d had his first taste of a grape pie and decided God had sent down just a bit of heaven for them to eat. Maybe after the war.

He shook his head to clear those thoughts. He wasn’t making plans. Unlike some of the others who joined up, he figured he knew what he was in for. He’d never killed a man before, but the idea lived in the back of his mind all the time now. Soon, too soon, he would be given a uniform and rifle and he would defend the Union by killing his own countrymen.

Every once in a while a cannon boomed from shore as a send-off from someone’s home town. To bury his morbid thoughts, he decided to patrol the deck, listening to bits and pieces of the men’s conversation, judging their mood, watching for early signs of homesickness.

You know, I been livin’ my whole life on this lake, an’ I never yet sailed from one end of it t’ the other.

Richard grinned at the speaker and nodded in companionship. This was his first journey along the entire forty-mile lake as well. Like most, he'd done his fair share of fishing for lake trout - and had caught his fair share of them. But short forays in a rowboat were a far cry from getting in a steamer at one end the long lake and getting out of it at the other.

Dresden!

At the sound of the steamer’s captain’s call, most of the men of Company B crowded the decks to get one last look at home. He watched as eagerly as the rest to see the families left behind.

It seemed as if all of PennYan had traveled the five miles to the dock at Dresden. A band played and ladies waved their handkerchiefs, all to send them on their way with fond memories of home. Even Richard found himself caught up in the gaiety and waved back almost as vehemently as the others, though he knew Mary wouldn’t be there. Their farm lay further south, closer to Dundee. He would look for his wife there.

Soon Dresden faded into the distance, the sound of the band lingering long after the town slipped out of sight. A quarter of an hour later they approached Lakemont, where he suspected his wife would be.

As they came into sight of the tiny hamlet, Richard strained his eyes, his heart beating hard. This would be the last glimpse of his family he’d get for a very long time. His eyes misted as he thought of it, but a surreptitious wipe of his sleeve got rid of them. He didn’t want his last look at his wife blurred by tears.

He saw his father first, standing straight and tall on the shoreline, saluting. Rass joined Richard at the side of the steamer and the two brothers stood at attention, returning the salute. And there was Mary, waving a blue handkerchief. He chuckled and remembered that she had told him it wouldn’t be a white one because she wasn’t going to surrender her husband to the army, only loan him. And so she waved a blue handkerchief that matched the blue of the uniform he would soon wear. By her side were his two little boys, Eddie and Georgie. At four years old, Eddie was old enough to understand a little of where his father was going. He stood between his grandfather and his mother, shyly waving at the big boat. Georgie had just taken his first steps last week, and clung unsteadily to Mary’s skirts. As he watched, Mary scooped up the baby and held him for Richard to see.

The shoreline passed all too fast. Richard hardly noticed that Lill, their sister, also waved, as did Kate, Rass’ current love interest. No, his eyes were for Mary and the boys. The two brothers traveled back along the rail to the rear of the boat, keeping their family in their eyes as long as they could.

A moment later and the trees hid the sight of the small knot of people on the shore. The two stood in silence as the boat continued south, finally turning as one to pick their way back to their belongings.

No bands played now and the mood turned somber as each man thought of the ones he left behind. It would be a long time before they would be back here again. Some would never come back.

The silent shore drifted past in an unbroken line of woodland. Not too many people lived right on the shore. The farms that bordered the lake tended to be up on the hills where the breezes cooled the houses and the sun warmed the earth. Richard thought of the haying they had just finished and tried not to worry about his father getting in the corn with only the help of a few old men and young boys. In spite of the conversation he’d had with Mary before he left, he knew she’d help harvest as well, a task he really didn’t want her doing. Her place was with the children, providing them a safe home. A home he fully planned to come back to.

Chapter Two

Meeting the 126th New York Volunteers

A shout from the front of the steamer broke his reverie. Watkins!

The first leg of their journey into the Union Army completed, Richard stood and stretched. Rass, grab your pack and help get the company together on the dock.

His brother grinned and gave him a sloppy salute before picking up his pack. Don’t you want help with that trunk?

Richard nodded toward Mel Bunce, one of the youngest in the company. I’ll get Mel to help me.

Sounds bully to me. See you on the dock.

Around him, men stood and gathered their belongings. The first leg of their journey complete, all of them felt more strongly the fact that they were on their way to war.

The contrast between Geneva and this sleepy hamlet called Watkins never failed to bemuse him. The hustle and bustle of the city had no place here, despite being the other major port for Seneca Lake. On these shores, no brass bands greeted them, no crowd of loved ones waved and cried. In the midafternoon sun, only men in blue stretched sore muscles and clustered in small groups around the dock.

This here’s as far south as I’ve ever gone before, Dick…I mean, Lieutenant.

Mel