There were also social gatherings in the audience room of the Court House, at which all the soldiers and many citizens were present.
Monday, August 18, 1862
The volunteers fell into a regular routine at Greenville, the county seat of Bond County. Eating, sleeping, and drilling each day likely led to boredom. The only saving grace was that they were near their family and friends who likely came to visit regularly.
Saturday, August 16, 1862
As noted earlier, the State furnished each newly-organized regiment a flag which became its recognized standard. In review, in a parade, and in battle, this flag was at the head of the regiment. In the event the flag was lost or destroyed, the State, as quickly as possible, furnished another one.
When the terms of service ended and the regiment was mustered out, their flag was returned to the State, and was supposed to be ever after cared for. These regimental flags are therefore in a class to themselves. Unlike the previous flags that belong to the people of Bond County, these regiment flags belong to the State.
See a picture of the 130th Illinois Infantry regimental flag here: http://www.civil-war.com/searchpages/undetail.asp?ID=102
Friday, August 15, 1862
A second Bond County flag was made at Pocahontas and given to an organization that later became Company E of the 130th Illinois Infantry Volunteers. The flag was carried into battle and more than once pierced by a bullet during the siege of Vicksburg. This flag survived and was returned to Pocahontas after the war where, according to Charles Johnson, it assumed a place of honor.
Hundreds of flags like these were given to volunteer soldiers by patriotic women of their home towns in both the North and the South. Like the soldiers who carried them into battle, not all of them returned home.
Wednesday, August 13, 1862
Flags were an important part of Civil War units. Regimental flags were supplied by the state and gave the soldiers a sense of pride. They were also important in the chaotic confusion of the battle, giving the soldiers a point of reference. The flags were the property of the state, and generally returned to them after the war.
Companies also received flags from the local residents. These provided fond memories of home for the soldiers. Charles Johnson recalls receiving such a flag:
One moonless night in August, a little time before we left Greenville, our company was drawn up in front of the Court House to receive a beautiful flag, a present from the women whose husbands, brothers, sons and sweethearts were soon to see service at the front. Two or three tallow candles furnished a flickering uncertain light, under whose dim rays a Miss Smith, a beautiful young woman, mounted the Court House steps, and in a few well chosen words, spoken in a sweet voice, presented the flag.
John B. Reid, then the Captain of the company in which I had enlisted, responded briefly and appropriately.
The flag was made of fine silk and most beautiful were its seven stripes of red, six of snowy white and delicate field of blue, studded with thirty-four immaculate stars, representing as many States, although eleven of these were making war upon this flag and all it stood for. After the fair young maiden had spoken her few words and the captain had responded, the flag was unfurled three rousing cheers were given, and every man silently resolved, if need be, to give his life for the preservation of this noble emblem. This flag we took with us when we went to the enemy's country, but unfortunately, during our various marches and transfers from one to another locality, it was misplaced, and never afterward found. Thus it came about that not one of us was given opportunity to "die for its preservation."
John B. Reid, then the Captain of the company in which I had enlisted, responded briefly and appropriately.
The flag was made of fine silk and most beautiful were its seven stripes of red, six of snowy white and delicate field of blue, studded with thirty-four immaculate stars, representing as many States, although eleven of these were making war upon this flag and all it stood for. After the fair young maiden had spoken her few words and the captain had responded, the flag was unfurled three rousing cheers were given, and every man silently resolved, if need be, to give his life for the preservation of this noble emblem. This flag we took with us when we went to the enemy's country, but unfortunately, during our various marches and transfers from one to another locality, it was misplaced, and never afterward found. Thus it came about that not one of us was given opportunity to "die for its preservation."
Monday, August 11, 1862
The 200 enlistees rendezvoused in the county seat of Greenville, a village of about 1500. They were quartered at the two village taverns. There were not beds for all 200, and so they slept on couches, benches, carpets and the bare floor.
Most of the recruits were young men under the age of twenty-five, and many of them were less than twenty. Still, there were several "old men" like thirty-two year old William Fleming. All of them had committed to three years of service in the Union Army and walked away from their farms, shops, and families.
Most of the recruits were young men under the age of twenty-five, and many of them were less than twenty. Still, there were several "old men" like thirty-two year old William Fleming. All of them had committed to three years of service in the Union Army and walked away from their farms, shops, and families.
Saturday, August 9, 1862
The war meetings, probably by design, swelled the patriotic enthusiasm of those in attendance. And that fervor was contagious, as Charles Johnson explained.
Joining the army is not unlike measles, whooping-cough and even smallpox, for it's catching. Learning that A., B., C. and D. had volunteered, I henceforth saw "the light," and straightway resolved to enlist in my country's service, much as it would mar all my well-laid plans. With this intent uppermost in my mind I attended the war meeting at Pocahontas, August 9, 1862, which was held in the shade of a white oak grove.
Amid these surroundings and under these patriotic influences I gave my name to an enrolling officer, and for three years thereafter saw service in the Union Army.
Under Lincoln's call for 600,000 volunteers, two full companies (about 200 men) were enlisted in Bond County in July and August of 1862.
Joining the army is not unlike measles, whooping-cough and even smallpox, for it's catching. Learning that A., B., C. and D. had volunteered, I henceforth saw "the light," and straightway resolved to enlist in my country's service, much as it would mar all my well-laid plans. With this intent uppermost in my mind I attended the war meeting at Pocahontas, August 9, 1862, which was held in the shade of a white oak grove.
Amid these surroundings and under these patriotic influences I gave my name to an enrolling officer, and for three years thereafter saw service in the Union Army.
Under Lincoln's call for 600,000 volunteers, two full companies (about 200 men) were enlisted in Bond County in July and August of 1862.
Friday, August 8, 1862
Charles Johnson, the young farm boy from Pocahontas, recalled the events of 150 years ago today:
One day early in August, 1862, having followed the plow till noon, I came in from the field to dinner and found at the house a relative who had just arrived with the information that a war meeting was to be held the next day at Pocahontas, my home village, ten miles distant, and that the day previous a war meeting had been held at Greenville, our county seat, and at which many of my old friends and schoolmates had enlisted.
Thursday, August 7, 1862
William Fleming, aged 32 years, enlisted in the Union army today. This happened at a "war meeting" in Greenville, the county seat of Bond County, Illinois. Music, singing of patriotic songs, and several speeches were the typical agenda for these meetings.
It is very likely that the following poem was read at the meeting. It was read at a war meeting two days later in nearby Pocahontas, Illinois.
From a poem first published in the New York Evening Post, July 16, 1862: We are coming, Father Abraham / James Sloan Gibbons (Robert Morris).
It is very likely that the following poem was read at the meeting. It was read at a war meeting two days later in nearby Pocahontas, Illinois.
From a poem first published in the New York Evening Post, July 16, 1862: We are coming, Father Abraham / James Sloan Gibbons (Robert Morris).
We are coming, father Abr'am,
three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear.
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear.
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
We are coming, coming, our Union
to restore
We are coming, father Abr'am,
three hundred thousand more!
If you look across the
hill-tops, that meet the northern sky,
Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;
And now the wind an instant tears the cloudy veil aside,
And floats aloft our spangled flag, in glory and in pride;
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;
And now the wind an instant tears the cloudy veil aside,
And floats aloft our spangled flag, in glory and in pride;
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
We are coming, coming, our Union
to restore
We are coming, father Abr'am,
three hundred thousand more!
If you look up our valleys,
where the growing harvest shine,
You may see our sturdy farmer boys, fast forming into line.
And children from their mothers' knees are pulling at the weeds,
And learning how to reap and sow, against their country's needs;
And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
You may see our sturdy farmer boys, fast forming into line.
And children from their mothers' knees are pulling at the weeds,
And learning how to reap and sow, against their country's needs;
And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door.---
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
We are coming, coming, our Union
to restore
We are coming, father Abr'am,
three hundred thousand more!
You have called us, and we're
coming, by Richmond's bloody tide
To lay us down for freedom's sake, our brothers' bones-beside;
Or from foul treason's deadly grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade,
Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before,
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
To lay us down for freedom's sake, our brothers' bones-beside;
Or from foul treason's deadly grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade,
Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before,
We are coming, father Abr'am, three hundred thousand more!
We are coming, coming, our Union
to restore
We are coming, father Abr'am,
three hundred thousand more!
Amid the patriotic fever of the war meeting, and despite the uncertainty of leaving his 26-year-old wife, Nancy, and their nearly 4-year-old son James Norris Delaney Fleming, and 3-month-old son Amos Siegal Lincoln Fleming, William Fleming enlisted in the Union Army for 3 years.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)