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Return to Milestones Vol. 5, No. 1

IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER, JACOB FISHER, WHO ANSWERED THE LAST GREAT ROLL CALL ON AUGUST 25TH, 1923, IN THE EIGHTY SECOND YEAR OF HIS LIFE.

In order that my children may have a better understanding of the life of their grandfather, and that any who may be interested may have these incidents, as he related them to me, his son, it has always been my wish to preserve, in written form , some of the stories of his experiences during the two years and eight months of his army life as a soldier in the Civil War.

During the summer of 1862 1 was working on the farm of Archie Robinson, located in what is now the upper part of Monaca, Beaver County, Pa. President Lincoln had called for fifty thousand volunteers, and many of the boys of my acquaintance had answered the call and were enlisting. One Harrison Miller, in passing the farm where I was at work, called to me "Jake, when are you going to enlist?" I answered that I had not quite made up my mind. On the following day he again passed, this time with two companions, all on their way to Beaver for drill practice. He called to me "Jake, if you do not enlist I must call you a coward". "I am no coward, and will prove it" I answered, for this accusation hurt. I immediately unhitched my horses, took them to the barn, and told Mr. Robinson my decision. He tried to induce me to change my mind and go back to work, but I was determined. When he saw I was in earnest he paid me my wages and wished me well. I then went to Beaver, and with others I met there, enlisted in the service of my Country. After this had been done I went home to tell my folks. My father bitterly objected to my decision, for I had not yet attained the age of 21 years. On seeing my determination, he, however, gave his consent, with the warning that he did not want to hear anything but a good report of my soldier service. My mother was sick in bed, brother Dan being but three days old. She, mother like, broke into weeping, saying she would never see me again. I tried to comfort her with the assurance that I would soon be home again, and the war would be over. Almost three years passed; three years filled with danger, anxiety, suffering and homesickness, years that stand out above all others in my life, before I saw that good mother again, although I expected to see her once more before I left for the front.

Brother Fred went with me to Beaver, where for the next few days we drilled on the Green by the court house. The 140th Pennsylvania regiment was being recruited from Beaver, Washington and Greene Counties, and 1, with others who were later to become more closely related as comrades in arms, were assigned to that regiment. I now surely count it an honor to be a member of that regiment as with one exception it lost more men in action than any other in the Union Army.

Within a few days we took train at Rochester for Harrisburg, our first military duty being to guard the railroad between York, Pa. and Baltimore. Shortly the order came to move on to Fredricksburg to take part in the battle being fought there. When we came within the hearing of cannon fire, we found our men were being driven back to the north bank of the Rappahannock River, and were just a few hours too late to be engaged in the battle of Fredricksburg. With the defeated army we went into winter quarters near the little village of Falmouth, Va. Many were the hard and bitter experiences we were to nave in that camp, yet some I would not want to forget; among others, the long, cold nights on picket duty along the shore of the Rappahannock. We were obliged to destroy a maple grove with which to build dwellings, using our tents for a roof. We took much pride in our dwellings, and each one boasted that he lived in the best and most comforthouse.

We were divided into groups called a 'mess', and in my mess, with others , were John Baldwin and John Black. We were called the "Ground Squirrels", as each mess had a name, and we shared each others blankets at night and cooked our rations together during the day. Our Captain, McCalister, would often come and say "Well, have the Ground Squirrels anything to eat". If we assured him we had plenty, he would very often take dinner or supper with us. Then our Chaplain, Milligan, whom we all loved and respected, would often visit us. Sometimes, when a game of cards was in progress, he would hear us from the outside of the tent, and would slip quietly up and reach in a handful of tracts, dropping them over our card table. Then he would peep in and say "Well boys, having a little game; it's all right to pass the time away, but do not bet your money on them."

Once I became homesick and thought I must see my mother. I got up enough courage to go to Captain McCalister and ask him for a leave of absence, as this winter many of the boys were granted the privilege of going home. The Captain looked at me and said, "Jake, why do you and I need to go home? We have no wife or children, not even a sweetheart , so let you and I stay here and keep camp." This jolly good nature cheered me up a bit, and I went back to my tent, busied myself with my duties and forgot about home.

It was here at Fredricksburg, the first winter of our army life, that we traded sugar and salt with the "Johnnies" for tobacco, shipping the traded articles back and forth over the Rappahannock River in small sail boats. Here we spent the first Christmas in the army, and shouted across the river "A Merry Christmas to you Johnnies", and they would answer back "The same to you Yanks, got any salt to trade?" and we always had. Often they would call to us "Why do you'ns come down to fight we'ens, we'ens would not go up to fight you'ns." When the officers saw we were getting too friendly, orders to fire would be given. Then they would call "Look out Yanks, we'ens have orders to fire"; and we would warn them when the same orders were given us. This Christmas I received a box of good things from home, and as was the custom with all of us, shared it with my mess and friends.

Here at this camp our comrade Dan Bowen died, and we buried him on a knoll out from camp. [Note by Henry H. Fisher] During the year 1902 / visited the site of this camp in company with my father and learned they had moved the body of Bowen over to the National Cemetary in Fredricksburg.

We were to learn that this camp, with all its happy and sad experiences, was where we spent the time that may be called the lull before the storm, for on May 6th, 1863. we had our first real battle at Chancellorsville. For three days our boys were heavily engaged in this battle, which was so disastrous to us. Our losses were heavy and it affected us new soldiers greatly. Many of our comrades were taken prisoners, Issac Minor being among those captured. It is very hard to tell what takes place in a battle; it is like a dream we wish to forget. I remember a detachment of our Company was ordered to advance into a woods to find the position of the enemy, and then fall back under the protection of our battery, which was planted in a thicket of trees. We had not advanced far until we were met by a volley from the Gray Coats. We lost no time in falling back, and they followed us. We reached the concealed battery, and dropped down on the ground under the cannon muzzles. When the advancing Confederates came on they were greeted by a terrific fire from the cannon, the concussion of the guns shaking the earth under our prostrate bodies. That line of gray just seemed to fade away, and we did not see them again. We were by the Chancellor House when it burned and helped carry the wounded soldiers from the burning building, as that house was used for a field hospital. History records that in spite of sacrifice, the battle of Chancellorsville was lost to us. Sad, indeed it was, when at roll call those nights, many of our comrades, with whom we lived and suffered many a hardship, rejoiced and sorrowed, ate and slept, failed to answer their names. Some of us had probably seen them fall. We were beginning to learn what war really meant.

Here I recall a comrade, a character, named Peter ShevIin, an Irishman by birth, and full of his native wit. In one of our retreats, when the bullets were coming quite lively, Peter had taken refuge in the forked limbs of a fallen tree. I called to him "Come on Peter, if you stay there, they, the Rebels, will get you." He crawled out and followed me, and hardly had he done so when a shell fell and exploded in the very spot where he had crouched. Turning around, he said, "be japers they did not get the Irishman that time." Later he was transferred to an artillery regiment, and the last time I saw him he lay strapped to the spare wheel of a caisson, with his face to the sun. I asked "Peter, what is wrong now, what are you doing there." He replied "Oh, I got drunk and they made a spread eagle out of me.

In the latter part of June, 1863, 1 suffered a spell of sickness, and was taken to the hospital. At that time Lee had started his invasion of the North. While there at the convalescent camp, as they called it, I heard rumors that a great battle on Northern soil was almost certain to be fought in order to check Lee's advance on Washington and Philadelphia. All able soldiers were needed at the front, so the doctors and officers came to select any such men from the convalescents. I was very much disappointed when they passed me as unfit for immediate service, and felt a great shame being a soldier and not in position to help defend my native state of Pennsylvania. A young doctor passed near me, and I earnestly begged him if he would not use his influence in getting me permission to join my regiment. He listened sympathetically to me, but said as the older doctors had decided it best for me to remain there, he thought their decision would be final. However, he promised to do what he could for me, and later came back and said, "Well soldier, you can pack up to move." Thanking him, I lost no time in packing. With two acquaintances I started out to locate my regiment which was marching 'double quick' northward, to head off Lee's army. We had to walk all night and through the hot days to overtake them.

I well remember one hot day when we were very tired and hungry that we spied a little white farm house by the roadside, and decided to stop and ask for something to eat. We met an old German, and told him we were Union soldiers trying to catch up with our regiment, and were very hungry. "Well soldiers" he said, "dem reppels vent tru here yesterday, and dey cleaned up eferyting, and took my horse, but I vill call my wife and see if she can gif you anyting." So his wife came out with him and said "Soldiers, all I can give you is bread and skimmed milk, but you are welcome to that." We assured her we would be very thankful for it, so she brought a large bowl of the milk, two large loaves of bread (the kind baked in the large out door ovens) and butter. We certainly enjoyed a feast, seated there on the grass, beside an old spring-house. To this day I remember how very good it tasted. When finished, we asked them what our bill was, and the old German replied that he had only one price to ask of us. "What is it" we asked, "for we want to pay for such a good dinner." "Vell", he said, "van you get dem reppels, gif dem hell, gif dem hell, for yesterday day took all my horses, cows and pigs." We promised him that we would surely do our best to that end. Part of the large loaves of bread was left over, and the wife insisted we take them along in our haversacks, which we gladly did. Thanking them, we said good-by.

The next evening we overtook our regiment, just as they halted for the night camp, and what a tired lot of boys they were, as well as we. Their welcome "Here comes Jake" certainly sounded good to me, and their simple army fare and hot coffee tasted fine that evening.

Next morning we received orders to march "double quick" to Gettysburg. Lee had reached Pennsylvania, and his cavalry had been raiding the surrounding country, and had burned the Village of Chambersburg. Our army had been sent to head them off from Harrisburg.

We reached Gettysburg on the morning of July 2nd, 1863. The first three days of July of that year will ever be recorded in history as being the turning point of the War of the Rebellion. The first day's fight ended in the partial defeat of our troops, the loss of General Reynolds, and the small army defending the field being forced to retreat back through the town of Gettysburg, to the ridges west of it. When we, the Second Army Corps, arrived the morning of July 2nd, a council of war was held by the Generals in command, as to the advisability of making a stand against the enemy here at Gettysburg or falling back to a more advantageous position. Many were in favor of leaving the field for the defenses nearer Washington, but our own General Hancock said "Gentlemen, the Army of the Potomac has retreated too often, and here at Gettysburg is the place to make our stand." History answers the wisdom of this decision. Having the advantage of the hills, and with the inner circle of the horse-shoe like formation of our battle lines, stretching from Culps Hill over Cemetery Ridge, around the Bloody Angle to the Round Tops, gave us good vantage ground.

Our regiment did not enter the fight until 5 o'clock that afternoon, being too much played out from our days and nights of forced march. At 5 o'clock we received orders to advance across an open field under heavy fire, to check the advance of the confederates who planned to cut off General Sickles command. Sickles had taken a position far in advance of our lines against orders. It was in that field that our regiment was to make it's great sacrifice. Our brave Colonel Roberts made a speech to us and told what a task we had before us, asking that we all be brave men . He said he would be killed on that field, and turning to his aide, asked him to send his horse home. This horse, a much loved black animal, which he always rode, was caught back of the line of battle, after its rider had fallen, and later sent back to the Colonel's home in Beaver. After the war it was often led, empty saddled, in the parades at our regimental re-unions.

Then the order came for our advance. I cannot very well describe the battle on that hot July evening, with its powder smoke and cannon roar. One forgot all fear and became as a wild man, as on across that field we charged. Men and comrades fell all around us, in that, what is often called the Whirlpool of the Battle of Gettysburg. Five times we charged the Gray lines, and drove them from the field, and as many times fell back before them. In less than two hours our regiment lost a third of its number, beside our much lamented Colonel Roberts. 0 have since located a large rock in that field as the spot where he fell.) What was the gain unless we were to save the command of Sickles, or what remained of it, and to prevent the Gray lines from concentrating their attack on the Round Tops. Many of our boys were taken prisoner, my friend and comrade John Mitchell being one of them, in the woods to our left. Darkness stopped that fearful struggle of July 2nd, 1863. We received word that General Sickles had been wounded. I will not attempt to tell all about the Battle of Gettysburg. History can do that better, and then how imperfect, for God alone knows the heroic sacrifices made there that this Nation might live.

On the following day, July 3rd, our regiment was heavily engaged to the left of the "High Water Mark", the point of attack by the Confederate General Pickett. The hours of heavy cannonading before that memorable charge, which took place in the afternoon of that day, the sight of the gray lines advancing over the open sloping field, to be mowed down by grape shot and canister from Cushing's battery, the struggle of the survivors at the stone wall, using bayonets and the butts of muskets, then the end of the struggle as the small remnant of the gray lines fell back in defeat, will always stand out clearly in my mind. To this day we can only begin to realize what we had paid for that victory.

[Note by Henry N. Fisher] Several times in later years my father has visited this great field of battle. Three different times have I wandered over the hallowed ground in his company. Most reverently we trod the very ground where his brave Colonel fell, and where many of his comrades gave the last full measure of devotion for the old flag they all loved so well. Always he expressed the wish that he might be spared to visit once again that field made sacred by the great sacrifice of these fallen men that the Nation might live united. On one occasion we found the nest of a bird in the mouth of one of the old cannon placed in the "Wheatfield" to mark the sport of battle, and we hoped it might be a promise that the cannons roar may never again be heard in battle.

The morning of July 4th, brought a downpour of rain, the Potomac River rising to a raging stream. Lee's army leisurely crossed over into Virginia, a defeated and disappointed lot of men. Had the Union forces known their weakness at that time they could have crushed their enemy before they crossed the Potomac, but as an old warrior once said, next to a great defeat in battle is to win a great victory. The Union Army in this case was in no shape to follow up the advantage gained, the wound was too deep, so it seemed the God who determines the destinies of armies, called a halt which allowed the Southern soldiers to again be defenders on their own soil. If we could have been spared the weary years of war which were to follow, how much better off would have been both the North and the South.

We followed the Confederates back again along the Rappahannock, crossing that stream and meeting the enemy again at Culpepper, where a sharp engagement took place. We then went on to the banks of the Rappidan, along which stream the two armies confronted each other until into the month of October. We then met the Rebs again at Bristoe Station, our part being in preventing Lee from cutting our Washington communications. Up to December we were engaged in several skirmishes, and many wary marches. Once we forded the Rappidan, the cold water being up to our arm-pits. On picket duty in the intense cold of that early december much suffering came to be our lot as we were not permitted to make fires to warm our aching limbs.

We went into winter quarters along the Rappidan River, where we made comfortable homes and occupied them until the spring of 1864. In May of that year the armies began to move again, and we met the enemy on the 5th, and 6th, in the Wilderness. Here for the two days we fought like the savage Indian in the tangled under brush and from behind trees. I certainly cannot forget that battle in the woods. I saw men wounded in such terrible ways, and then flames swept through the underbrush to add to the horror and suffering of the wounded. At last we drove the enemy from the thickets.

Following this we fought one of our hardest battles - Spottsylvania. With fixed bayonets we charged the Reba behind their defenses, breaking through, and driving them back. We fought hand to hand for hours. This is the only time I saw the bayonet used, and all day from early morning until nightfall we fought over that small piece of ground, first driving the enemy back and then losing before them. The storm of bullets was the worst I ever saw. A large tree standing between our lines, and in direct line of fire from both sides, was literally cut down by shot. The stump of this tree can be seen in the National Museum at Washington. The loss of men on both sides was very heavy, our regiment's loss nearly equalling that of Gettysburg.

After Spottsylvania we pushed our advance on toward Richmond, the 140th. Regiment having a lively skirmish at North Ann River. The Confederates were now fighting in defense of Rich,'mond their Capitol City. They fell back to the Chickahominy Swamps, and there made a stand. We had another battle here at Totopotomy Creek, where our Capitan McCalister and several of our men were killed. This still more decreasing our thinning ranks.

Our Army was now facing Lee in the Chickahominy Swamp, a few miles from Richmond. About this time we had a hard fight at Cold Harbor. Lee was firmly entrenched in the low swamp country, and movements were very difficult. On the night of June 12th, our Army was withdrawn from the swamps, crossed over the Chickahominy Creek, then over the James River on pontoon bridges to the south side of that stream, then on to Petersburg. Here several attempts were made to take the enemy works by storm, but the defenses of Petersburg were strong, and the sacrifice of men made in these attempts was too costly. Here thousands of brave men gave their lives in fruitless efforts, as each time our men made an attack they were driven back on their own lines. After the attack on June 18th, our Army settled down for a regular siege.

During the summer of 1864 the heat in this country was intense and the weather dry. We dug wells for our water supply in camp. Although a siege was on, the Second Army Corps was very active, and when we were sent out to destroy the Weldon Railroad, the source of supply for Petersburg, we met one of our greatest defeats. We were then taken down the James River by boat, to Deep Bottom, where on August 17th, and 18th, we battled with an entrenched army of Confederates. Little advantage was gained there, and we were ordered back to the lines before Petersburg. We returned by night march through rain and mud. On August 25th, we had a severe fight at Reams Station on the Weldon Railroad, but owing to poor support it turned out a bitter defeat. Besides we had many a skirmish not recorded in history. Here, before Petersburg, as the fall months passed by, we built strong bomb proof winter quarters.

In October we were honored with a visit from President Lincoln, General Grant and other high army officers. I well remember the tall ungainly Lincoln, with high silk hat, and clothes that seemed to fit so poorly in contrast with the well dressed and neatly uniformed officers with him. His tall figure made even his horse appear too small for him, yet this Country Gentleman was loved by every soldier, and the hearty cheers we gave clearly showed this. That great man also proved that he loved the most humble soldier boy.

[Note by Henry N. Fisher] My father regarded Lincoln the greatest man who walked this earth, excepting Christ. He always seemed to speak of him with a reverence, and was very bitter toward those who would deny the soldier a vote in the field because he was not at his regular voting place at home when the day for presidential election came near. Needless to say the soldiers got their vote, my father's first vote, and the great hearted President began his second term by the election of 1864, with malice toward none, with charity for all, to finish the work he had begun. How the boys mourned a few months later, when the news of his assassination reached them, and how they vowed they would avenge his un-timely death had they been in Washington at the time.]

During the winter of 1864-65 many deserters came over to our lines, and poor, hungry disheartened men they were. I remember being asked by one of the "Johnnies" in true Southern tongue, "Where you all get those guns that you load on Sunday and shoot all week". This referring to our Springfield magazine rifles. Winter always brought on a great amount of suffering in army life, especially when the men were on picket duty. Once I remember, we being too tired from the day's march, I believe this was in the winter of 1863-64, did not put up tents for the weather looked well, but just spread our blankets on the around. When we awoke next morning a blanket of snow covered us all and we had to crawl out and shake the winter mantle of snow from our blankets.

All appeared well in front of Petersburg until March 25th, 1865, when Lee started activities, and our regiment had some hard fighting that day. The Confederates then evacuated Petersburg, the Union Army in close pursuit. The 140th regiment being on the skirmish line, we met the Rebs at Hatchers Run in battle. Lee would try to make a stand, only to be routed from his position. On April 7th, our regiment being on the skirmish line with the 26th, Michigan regiment, met the Rebs when they made a stand near the crossing of the old Stage road and the Farmville Plank road, behind some defenses. We were the first to draw their fire and attacked, but being so few in number against an entrenched enemy, were forced back. Four of our men were killed in this our last battle, and which was in reality the last battle of the Civil War.

The next day we chassed the enemy on toward Lynchburg, and then on the memorable Sabbath morning, April 9th, 1865, we pushed on to near Appomattox, Va. It was a bright spring morning as we marched along, and all seemed at peace. About 9 O'clock we halted, and a flag of truce was passed through our lines, but we dared not think the good news of the surrender of Lee was so near. We rested, and waited for news until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when a great cheer broke the quiet of that peaceful Sabbath day, and an orderly rode by shouting "Lee has surrender, Lee has surrendered". I saw strong, brave men in tears, soldiers embracing each other, caps and haversacks being thrown in the air. Cheer after cheer echoed by tens of thousands of men from both North and South. Both armies mingled together as friends, enemies no longer. We shared our rations with the Southern soldiers for they had been for days with scarcely anything to eat. One came to me and offered me three twenty-dollar Confederate bills, his pay, for some of my hard-tack (Bean flour crackers). I gave him all I had, telling him I could get some more. He insisted I take his money. "That money is no good now", I said, "keep your money". "I know it is no good now, Yank", he said, "we all have the same money, but take these bill and my belt buckle, they may be a keep-sake for you". So to please him I took them and gave two of the twenty dollar bills away. One of the bills and the buckle I still have.

For several days we were on guard duty around Appomattox, guarding supply trains and surrendered war material, the Confederates being allowed to keep all of their horses for the Spring plowing.

On the 5th of May, we started on our homeward march, taking the road toward Richmond. We passed through that City with bands playing and colors flying. A large part of the City was in ruins, having been fired by the Confederates to prevent it falling into our hands, that proud Capitol of the Confederacy against which so many armies had marched. From there we took a direct course to Washington. We were all light hearted and in good spirits as we headed northward to the tunes of the army "The Girl I Left Behind Me" and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". At last we viewed Washington City from across the Potomac, as was the Promised Land of long ago.

On May 23rd, we took part in the Grand Review of the Army of the Potomac. After this we were sent by train to Pittsburgh, where our final 'muster out' and pay was given with our discharge papers. Surely we were very glad to be so near home again after those four years of war. Still those weary years of trial made comrades of us all, the men with whom we shared our hardships, sorrows and joys and our rations and beds and shelters. The names of the three Johns, John Baldwin, John Black, John Mitchell, and many others. Then our good Chaplain Milligan, and our officers, Generals Hancock, Miles and Humphries [I heard General Miles make an address before the 140th, Regiment Reunion at Waynesburg, Pa. in 19101 Colonels Fraser and Roberts, Majors Henry and Caldwell. All men we were proud to serve under. Then the places where the battles took place are as household names - Chanslorsville, Gettysburg, Bristoe Station, Mine Run, Wilderness, Corbins Bridge, Po River, Spotsylvania, North Ann, Totopotomy, Cold Harbor , Petersburg, Deep Bottom, Reams Staflon, Hatchers Run, Sailors Creek, Farnriville, Appomattox.

After receiving our discharge, we quietly disbanded our regiment, each one overjoyed to go home. I took the night train for Rochester, but falling asleep did not wake up until we had arrived at Enon Valley. Next day I had to start for home again. My brother Fred met me at the station and together we walked out to the old farm in Sewickley Township, arriving there late in the evening. Fred left me in hiding while he went into the house alone. They said "Well, Jake has not come yet", but sister Maria not believing this came out in search of me. I could not hide any longer, so I came out and caught her in my arms.

One must experience the joy of home-coming after four long weary years of war to fully appreciate it. I will never forget the joy of my dear old mother, her joy at my safe return.

The old 140th regiment holds a reunion each year in September, and it is good to get together and renew our comrade-ship as we grow old.

[By Henry N. Fisher] I do not think my father missed a reunion of his regiment up until a year before his death. The Last reunion he attended was in the Beaver M.E. Church on September 13, 1921. My father took up the trade of carpenter, which he always said was a good calling for Christ was a carpenter. He married my mother, Sophia Noss, on January 12 1870, settling in Rochester and building a home there. All of the children were bom in Rochester - Laura A., December 10th, 1870; Elsie E., October 28th, 1872; Henry N., September 23, 1877; Elizabeth E., March 2nd, 1881; Wm. G., June 29th, 1883; Carrie N., August 9th, 1888; Howard D., October 25th, 1894. In the year 1870 my father and mother both united with the Baptist Church in Vanport, later to become charter members of the First Baptist Church in Rochester.

My father attained the age of 82 years. He answered the last Great Roll Call of the Grand Army which marched on before, on August 25th, 1923. Harry J. Boyd, Isaac Minor and John McCullough, members of the old regiment, were present when he was laid to rest in the Beaver Cemetary. Those who bore his body to its last resting place were Joseph Cupos and John McCullought, old comrades of the Civil War, Wm. A. Ketterer and J. N. Donaldson of the Spanish-American War, Charles Berger and Marion McRoberts of the World War. Rev. T. B. Anderson, another old soldier and friend, assisted the Rev. W. B. Smiley of the Rochester U.P. Church in preaching the funeral sermon. At the cemetary three volley of musketry were fired over the grave by the Spanish-American and World War veterans, and the bugle echoed again in taps as it had done so often at n1ght-fall in those stormy days of the sixties.

Two out-standing traits of my father's character I will always remember - His humbleness of spirit, he always gave preference to others before himself. And his sincere honesty, he was an honest man in every respect, and would give of what he had to the point of self denial. I believe he tried sincerely to follow his Lord and Master, Christ Jesus.

Mr. Fishers account of his Civil War adventures was shared with Milestones readers by his great granddaughter, Mr. Janet Clark of New Brighton.