Saturday, November 15, 1862

This evening the boat was tied up on the Arkansas shore.  There was a concern that this particular stretch of the Mississippi River was infested with bands of armed rebels.  Therefore, night navigation was considered too risky.

After tying off, the regiment was marched ashore.  Nothing was found but a simple log structure that was used as a store before the war.  The area was heavily timbered with a dense under growth.  Despite it being mid-November, there was still a significant amount of leaves on the trees and brush.  

Since they were in enemy territory, a strong picket guard was detailed.  Company F (William Fleming's company) and another company were given the assignment.  Charles Johnson described the rest of the night this way:

The men were marched out the distance of a mile from the regiment, broken up in squads of four, and with freshly loaded guns, awaited any cause for alarm. There was no disturbance, but being in the enemy's country was an entirely new experience, and though there may not have been an armed Confederate within fifty miles, it is safe to say that in the whole regiment but few eyes closed that night in sleep. Six months later, so inured had most of us become to war's alarms, that sweet and refreshing sleep was often taken directly under fire.

Friday, November 14, 1862

Not long after leaving St. Louis, a man belonging to the 130th Illinois Infantry Regiment died.  The carpenter of the boat made a pine coffin in which the body was placed and taken to Memphis.  The death caused quite a commotion among the men of the 130th.  Unfortunately, in the not too distant future, death would become all too familiar.

Wednesday, November 12, 1862

At St. Louis the regiment boarded the steamboat General Robert Allen for the trip downriver to Memphis.  According to Charles Johnson, the trip turned out to be exceedingly tedious, as water in the river was at a low stage.  The old boat frequently ran aground, but with the help of spars put upon either side the bow, and hoisting apparatus, always managed to again get underway.

Tuesday, November 11, 1862

After about seven weeks at Camp Butler, the 130th Illinois Infantry Regiment received orders to report to Memphis, Tennessee.  It was a cold, rainy evening when the regiment boarded the cars of the Wabash Railway at the front gate of Camp Butler.  According to Charles Johnson, it was a cheerless ride.

Monday, November 10, 1862

In anticipation of their orders, the regiment received their arms:  Austrian rifled-muskets.  They were also issued cartridge boxes containing ammunition, canteens, haversacks (pouches made of heavy cotton for rations), knapsacks and blankets.  Each man was also issued his regulation blue uniform.

Tuesday, October 28, 1862

The newly organized 130th Illinois Infantry was put under a Dutch drillmaster.  According to Charles Johnson  he was a short, little fellow, with a red face, sandy mustache and goatee.  He wore a cap, a blue blouse and a sword that dragged the lower end of its scabbard on the ground. 

He gave his commands in quick, nervous, broken English: "Tenyan, Titalyan! Fa'rd March! By Goompanies, Right 'Veel!" (Attention Battalion! Forward March! By Companies, Right Wheel!)  When the evolutions of the green regiment were faulty, it was amusing to hear the scolding in broken English from the drillmaster.

Sunday, October 26, 1862

Unlike yesterday, the morning weather was bright and warm. The newly-formed regiment was formed in line, and the Colonel, Lieutenant-Colonel and Major each made a short speech.

The Colonel of the Regiment was Nathaniel Niles, an attorney from Belleville, and the Lt. Colonel was James H. Matheny, a Springfield attorney and former law partner with Abraham Lincoln. The Major was John B. Reid of Greenville.

Saturday, October 25, 1862

This afternoon ten companies were mustered into the United States Army as the 130th Illinois Infantry Volunteers. As the weather was cold and raw, the ceremony was not enjoyed by the participants.

The men volunteered from the following counties: 

Company A from Monroe County

Company B from Sangamon County

Company C from Alexander County

Company D from Christian County

Companies E and F from Bond County

Company G, one-third from Coles County, the remainder from Edgar, Bond, Clinton and Douglas Counties

Company H from Richland and Wabash Counties

Company I from Lawrence and Sangamon Counties

Company K from Clark County

William Fleming, was part of Company F, as was Charles Johnson.

Tuesday, October 14, 1862

There was a flagpole in front of the Commandant's headquarters at Camp Butler.  Early each morning the Stars and Stripes went up, and the flag was brought back down when night approached.  Also, a cannon was fired every day at sunrise and sunset.

Monday, October 13, 1862

Apparently there were so many new regiments arriving there wasn't enough space inside Camp Butler to house them all.  Several newly-formed regiments were outside, and all about the enclosure at Camp Butler, encamped in tents. 

Charles Johnson recalled a surreal scene in these make-shift camps:

After staying in the barracks about two months I remember being detailed for guard duty one beautiful Sabbath day. Guard duty necessitated a soldier's absence from his quarters for twenty-four hours, though he would actually be on his beat with musket in hand but one-third of the time, two hours out of every six. The time referred to, my two hours for duty, came just before daylight Monday morning. 

Looking through the fence about sunrise, where a regiment was encamped just outside, several groups were seen eating breakfast, and these were not composed wholly of men, but were made up of women, girls and children as well. Looking closer, it was seen that they were eating fried chicken, turkey, cake, pie, freshly-baked bread and good butter, biscuit and doughnuts. By this time the man on the next beat had joined me, and the effect the scene had upon the two soldiers within the enclosure can never be appreciated by the reader who has not had a similar experience. The wives, sisters and children of these more fortunate soldiers had evidently come to spend a season with their friends, and had brought such eatables as they knew would be appreciated, for the time had thus literally transferred home-life to camp.

Tuesday, October 7, 1862

In the fall of 1862, many recruits were sent to Camp Butler for drill and organization.  These recruits came to Camp Butler organized in squads, companies, and even regiments.  However, for the most part they were unarmed, unable to march as a unit, and without uniforms.

But what a change a few weeks would make.  Charles Johnson recalls, 

One regiment in particular I recall as presenting the most motley appearance imaginable. Brown jeans was the prevailing dress, but every conceivable cut of coat and style of hat could be seen, and all, from colonel down, were slouchy in attire, and awkward and ungainly in manner and appearance. A few weeks later the same body of men marched out of Camp Butler to take the cars on the Wabash Railway at the front gate of the enclosure bound for the front and the firing-line; but, what a change! Every man was dressed in a new well-fitting uniform, had on his shoulder a bright new musket that glistened in the sunlight, and moved with firm, elastic step. The whole regiment marched with machine-like precision, and kept step with the rhythmic strains of the band at its head.

Monday, October 6, 1862

Being a military establishment, it was necessary to post a chain of guards all around the outside of the fence at Camp Butler.  According to Charles Johnson, the guards were armed with old army muskets of the Harper's Ferry pattern. Apparently the arms were all old and defective in some manner, and considered harmless for the most part. 

When assigned to guard duty, a soldier was given a musket, the counter-sign, and a post to guard or patrol.  After nightfall, a guard would not allow anyone to approach without challenging them.  As Charles Johnson explained, if the challenged party purported to be a friend, he was required to whisper the countersign over the musket's length with bayonet attached.

Friday, October 3, 1862

Besides poorly prepared food, Camp Butler held another change to the daily life of the recruits.  

Most of them were farmers who were used to everyday freedoms.  But the confinement at Camp Butler became very monotonous.  The fence around the camp, and armed sentries, made it seem like a prison.

The recruits were able to secure a pass from the Post Commandant from time to time.  They would visit Springfield, or the nearby woods and farms.

Wednesday, October 1, 1862

With that constant turnover of cooks in the kitchen, the food was prepared inconsistently.  Meat was usually over-done.  Charles Johnson, while noting the variety and quality of the food, expressed disappointment in the inconsistency of the final product.

Potatoes were almost never properly cooked, even when apparently well done, a raw core would frequently be found in the center.  Coffee was, at times, only a little stronger than water, at others it was like lye. But rice, white beans and dried apples gave the amateur cooks the most trouble. 

In fact, Johnson took his criticism a step further.

Good cook stoves and serviceable utensils were furnished by the Government, in addition to rations in abundance and of exceptional quality. The lame factor was in the food's preparation. Had it been possible for the Government to have supplied newly-enlisted companies with good cooks till others could have been trained, an untold amount of sickness would have been prevented, and many graves would have remained unfilled, not to speak of the many thousands who were discharged from the service by reason of ailments due to ill-prepared food.

Sunday, September 28, 1862

"An army marches on its stomach."  That quote is attributed to Napolean.  It actually has less to do with food, and more to do with logistics - getting food and supplies to the front lines where the army needs it.

But, that doesn't diminish the importance of food to soldiers like William Fleming and his companions at Camp Butler.  The soldiers' rations were plenty and of good quality, but as Charles Johnson noted, their preparation lacked the skilled, delicate hand of woman.

Each day, two men from each company were detailed to kitchen duty.  On their first day they served as assistants to two other men, who on the previous day were, themselves, the assistants.  Together the four men prepared and cooked for the 100 men in their company.  

And so on their second (and final) day of kitchen duty, they were the experts who instructed their replacements in the art of cooking.  

Tuesday, September 23, 1862

The recruits quickly assimilated into the life of a soldier.  Each company (about 100 men) was assigned to the long, narrow barracks.  At one end of the barracks was the kitchen and store-rooms and at the other end were two or three small rooms for the officers.  Charles Johnson described the rest of the barracks this way:

Through the center of the main room ran a long table made of rough boards, and from which all ate. At the sides of this main room were box-like structures, open in front, having tiers of boards upon which two men slept side by side. These we called bunks. Thus it was that our long, narrow barracks were not unlike a sleeping-car and dining-car combined. The barracks were made of rough boards put on "up-and-down," with no ceiling overhead save the shingle roof, and windows and doors were few, purposely, to save space.

Monday, September 22, 1862

The train completed the 90-mile journey and arrived at the Alton & Chicago station in Springfield well before dawn.  It began to drizzle and, according to Charles Johnson, everyone found shelter where they could. 

With a companion I found shelter in the open vestibule of a church a little south of the station. Next morning we got breakfast at one of the cheaper hotels, and this was destined to be one of our very last meals eaten from dishes placed on a white tablecloth.

Despite the seriousness of their journey, many of them were still star-struck by their surroundings in Illinois' Capital City.  

During the forenoon several of us visited the home of President Lincoln and picked some flowers from the front yard and sent them home in letters. 

Around noon they boarded yet another train - this one on the Wabash Railway - and headed for Camp Butler, seven miles east of Springfield.  They arrived at the camp and passed through a gate near the railway.  The gate was guarded by a uniformed soldier with a gun in his hands.  On the other side of the gate they found an enclosure of about forty acres, surrounded by a high, tight-boarded fence.  Charles Johnson described the camp in this way: 

Along two sides of this enclosure were rows of long, narrow buildings, which were known as barracks.  At one end was the office of the Post Commandant, and nearby, the Commissary and Quartermaster's Department.  At the other end was the Hospital, Guard-House, Sutler's Store, etc.  In the center was a large open space, used as a drill-ground.  In the middle of the rear end, as at the front, was a large gate for teams to pass through, and beside it a smaller one, for the egress and ingress of the men; both were guarded by an armed soldier, and no one could go out without a pass signed by the Post Commandant.

Looking at the camp, I'm sure more than one of them realized they were in the Army now.  

Sunday, September 21, 1862

After about 10 days in Belleville, the recruits were ordered to Camp Butler, which was located northeast of Springfield, Illinois.

They boarded a train for St. Louis, then went by steamboat to Alton, Illinois.  As night fell they boarded another train.  But this time the accommodations were not as comfortable as their previous train rides.  

They climbed on coal cars, and found seats on boards had been laid across from side to side. The ride was anything but pleasant, as those sitting near the outer edge seemed to be in constant danger of falling off.  Everyone was tormented by the smoke, cinders and sparks from the locomotive. 

Saturday, September 13, 1862

The weather was delightful, and the soldiers enjoyed this experience.  At this point, it seemed much more like a camp out then war - and it was.

But, as Charles Johnson pointed out, this was a new experience to most of them, and not necessarily a pleasant one.

However, there was one drawback; meals were taken at the several boarding houses in the city, and as these were substantially all run by Germans, Belleville being largely populated with people of that nationality, the taste and fumes of garlic seemed to permeate every article of food on the table. It was, of course, in all the meats, in many of the vegetables; but every man would have taken oath that it was in the bread and butter, if indeed, not in the coffee and sugar as well.

Thursday, September 11, 1862

Soon it came time for the recruits to leave home.  As Charles Johnson remembers,

At the appointed time friends, neighbors and relatives came with farm wagon and, early one beautiful September morning, the vehicles were loaded with hearty specimens of young manhood, all ideal "cannon-food," and the journey over a dusty road to the nearest railway station, twenty miles away at Carlyle, was begun.

Three or four miles on the road was a hill where we, for some cause, halted for a time. From here I remember taking a look at the Court House, about which we had been drilling for several weeks, and whose friendly roof had sheltered us from rain and sun alike, and as its familiar outline loomed up in the morning's sun I wondered if I should ever again look upon it.

About noon they had traveled straight south of Greenville, and arrived at the town of Carlyle, Illinois.  Soon a west-bound train arrived  on the Ohio & Mississippi Railroad, and they all went aboard.  To many of the 200 recruits, riding on a train, much less inside a railroad coach, was a new experience!

After going west on the train for nearly 30 miles, they got off in O'Fallon, Illinois and marched about seven miles in a southwesterly direction, until they arrived at Belleville.  It was a hot and dusty march.

After they arrived at Belleville, they were directed to the fair grounds where they found quarters in horse and cattle stalls.  The soldiers spread their blankets and quilts on the bright clean straw that had been brought in.  The grounds were enclosed with a high, tight fence, and included shade trees and green, thrifty grass.

Monday, September 8, 1862

As the time for departure drew near, every man visited his home, made his final arrangements, said farewell to his family and friends, and then joined his comrades at Greenville.

Friday, September 5, 1862

Early in September orders came from the State Capital in Springfield.  The Bond County recruits were to rendezvous at Belleville, Illinois, a small city almost 50 miles to the southwest.

For the past several weeks the two companies ate pretty well while still in their civilian clothes.  While they had all taken an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States, they were still more civilian than soldier.

But with these orders, that was all about to change.

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.

There were also social gatherings in the audience room of the Court House, at which all the soldiers and many citizens were present. 

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."

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.

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.

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).

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!

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!

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!

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.