Ida M. Tarbell's "Disbanding of the Union Army"
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Date Published: October 19, 2024
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This article by Ida M. Tarbell, which was published along with the provided images in McClure’s Magazine in March 1901, has been edited by this author. Changes have been made to some text, and footnotes have been added for the twenty-first century reader’s understanding. Titles and subtitles have been introduced by this author to provide clarity and support the stream of thought in this article. Any errors in these areas are this author’s and this author’s alone.
The article discussing "The Disbanding of the Confederate Army" can be found here: [Confederate Army Disbanding]
Peter E. Greulich, October 2024
The Disbanding of the Union Army
- To the Union Soldiers, the War Was Being Won But Its Final Outcome Was Still in Doubt
- General Robert E. Lee Surrenders and Its Effect
- The First Problem: How Do We Get More Than 1,000,000 Soldiers Home?
- The Second Problem: How To Properly Discharge Each Soldier and Document Their Service?
- The Effect on the Individual Union Soldier of the Sudden End of the Civil War
- Maintaining Control of One Million Soldiers on Their Return Home
- Arriving at the Rendezvous and Being Discharged From the Army
- The Grand Review and Its Effect on the Citizens of the United States
- The Final Dispersion North … and Home
- Monitoring Every Aspect of the Movement to Get Each Soldier to the Doorstep of Home
- For the 1865–66 Timeframe, This Was an All-Too-Unheralded Feat of Logistics
- The Conditions of the North Country When Arriving Home
- Providing the Encouragement and Means to Safely Save Their Earnings
- This Process Took Soldiers of Courage and Daring and the Cooperation of People at Home
- To the Union Soldiers, the War Was Being Won But Its Final Outcome Was Still in Doubt
On the first of April, 1865, a Federal army of over one million volunteer soldiers hemmed in the ten southeastern States of the present Union. It had taken four years for this army to stretch itself from the mouth of the Potomac westward to the Mississippi, southward to the Gulf, and thence along the coast to its starting point. But at last the cordon was practically unbroken. Not only had the Federals enclosed the Confederacy; by capturing and holding the Mississippi River and by fighting their way from Louisville southeastward, through Nashville and Atlanta to Savannah, they had separated it into three enormous divisions.
In all parts of the vast territory which they had engirdled and dismembered, there were armies and garrisons; Meade, with 130,000 men, besieged Lee in Petersburg; Sherman’s army of 121,000 men was waiting at Raleigh, North Carolina, for a battle with Joe Johnston; Thomas, who commanded the 139,000 men in the Department of the Cumberland, was engaged in clearing the States in his division of the few Confederates remaining from the defeat of Hood in January; Canby, with some 122,000 men, held the Mississippi from Memphis to New Orleans , and opposed Dick Taylor’s army then in Alabama. There were forces in Texas and Arkansas, in the forts and outposts along the captured lines, holding towns, guarding hospitals, caring for prisoners and freedmen.
So long had it taken the Federals to accomplish this work that even now, in spite of the positions they held, and their vastly superior forces—that the million volunteers were being opposed by less than 200,000 Confederates, there was in their ranks no general belief in speedy victory.
They had heard so many times that the “back of the Rebellion was broken,” that they had almost ceased to expect an end to the war.
In all parts of the vast territory which they had engirdled and dismembered, there were armies and garrisons; Meade, with 130,000 men, besieged Lee in Petersburg; Sherman’s army of 121,000 men was waiting at Raleigh, North Carolina, for a battle with Joe Johnston; Thomas, who commanded the 139,000 men in the Department of the Cumberland, was engaged in clearing the States in his division of the few Confederates remaining from the defeat of Hood in January; Canby, with some 122,000 men, held the Mississippi from Memphis to New Orleans , and opposed Dick Taylor’s army then in Alabama. There were forces in Texas and Arkansas, in the forts and outposts along the captured lines, holding towns, guarding hospitals, caring for prisoners and freedmen.
So long had it taken the Federals to accomplish this work that even now, in spite of the positions they held, and their vastly superior forces—that the million volunteers were being opposed by less than 200,000 Confederates, there was in their ranks no general belief in speedy victory.
They had heard so many times that the “back of the Rebellion was broken,” that they had almost ceased to expect an end to the war.
- General Robert E. Lee Surrenders and Its Effect
That their skepticism hinged on their respect for the ability of a single one of the leaders opposing them—General Robert E. Lee—is evident from the effect produced on them by the news that, on April 9th, Lee had surrendered his army to Grant.
“The war is over,” was the universal chorus of the volunteers. And they were right. Like a structure from which the keystone has been wrenched, the Confederate army fell apart.
Two weeks after Lee surrendered his force at Appomattox, Joe Johnston surrendered to Sherman. On May 4th, Dick Taylor surrendered to General Canby in Alabama, and on May 26th, the forces west of the Mississippi commanded by Kirby Smith were surrendered to the Federal authorities, Smith fleeing to Mexico.
In six weeks all the organized forces of the Confederacy had laid down their arms, and the great majority of the men had given their parole not to take them up against the United States until properly exchanged. [See Footnote #1 below for the definition of "parole."]
The army of a million volunteers had finished its work.
“The war is over,” was the universal chorus of the volunteers. And they were right. Like a structure from which the keystone has been wrenched, the Confederate army fell apart.
Two weeks after Lee surrendered his force at Appomattox, Joe Johnston surrendered to Sherman. On May 4th, Dick Taylor surrendered to General Canby in Alabama, and on May 26th, the forces west of the Mississippi commanded by Kirby Smith were surrendered to the Federal authorities, Smith fleeing to Mexico.
In six weeks all the organized forces of the Confederacy had laid down their arms, and the great majority of the men had given their parole not to take them up against the United States until properly exchanged. [See Footnote #1 below for the definition of "parole."]
The army of a million volunteers had finished its work.
- The First Problem: How Do We Get More Than 1,000,000 Soldiers Home?
Almost the first thought of the Federal War Department; when the news of Lee’s surrender reached it, had been,” Now we can disband the armies,”—a thought followed immediately by the question, “How can it be done? “The question was one to tax the foresight, the experience, the energy of even Secretary Stanton, great as was his skill in handling bodies of men.
If one will consider the army as it lay in April, 1865, scattered from the Gulf to the Ohio, from Texas to Virginia; and remember its number, 1,034,064 men, he will see that the problem of the prompt transportation of such a force north was most serious. An element complicated the problem which does not appear on its face.
If each body of soldiers in the field had been from one part of the North—that is, if Sherman’s army had been made up of New Englanders; Thomas’s, of New Yorkers, etc., the difficulty of disbanding would have been less; but the armies were not made up in that methodical way. Sherman’s army in April, 1865, was formed of six army corps, besides cavalry. In the 15th and 17th corps, eight States were represented; in the 10th corps, nine States; in the 20th, ten; in the 14th and 23rd, eleven. In the entire army, seventeen.
In all the armies there was the same wide State representation. The War Department thus had to break up each army, select from it the men from Maine, from Ohio, from Illinois, and arrange that each of these fragments be sent on its way.
If one will consider the army as it lay in April, 1865, scattered from the Gulf to the Ohio, from Texas to Virginia; and remember its number, 1,034,064 men, he will see that the problem of the prompt transportation of such a force north was most serious. An element complicated the problem which does not appear on its face.
If each body of soldiers in the field had been from one part of the North—that is, if Sherman’s army had been made up of New Englanders; Thomas’s, of New Yorkers, etc., the difficulty of disbanding would have been less; but the armies were not made up in that methodical way. Sherman’s army in April, 1865, was formed of six army corps, besides cavalry. In the 15th and 17th corps, eight States were represented; in the 10th corps, nine States; in the 20th, ten; in the 14th and 23rd, eleven. In the entire army, seventeen.
In all the armies there was the same wide State representation. The War Department thus had to break up each army, select from it the men from Maine, from Ohio, from Illinois, and arrange that each of these fragments be sent on its way.
- The Second Problem: How To Properly Discharge Each Soldier and Document Their Service?
It was obliged, too, to do more than get the troops home. On their way North it must hold them long enough to secure the army history of each man, and it proposed to do this in such a way that he would have no legitimate reason for complaint. Moreover, it proposed that when at last it did set him down at his own door it should be with money in his pocket and good-will toward the government in his heart.
It was a bewildering problem, but Mr. Stanton attacked it with his usual volcanic energy. Summoning General Thomas M. Vincent, the Assistant Adjutant-General, who had been in charge of the organization of the volunteer forces, he asked him for a plan to suit the case. A few days later General Vincent presented a method he believed feasible. It was discussed for an hour and a half by the Secretary, and finally dismissed by his saying: “Send the method to General Grant, and if approved by him issue the order.” The notes were sent to Grant, who returned them with the brief comment, “Plans and suggestions within approved.” |
To one who reads General Vincent’s plan today it looks so simple compared with the task on hand that it seems hardly worth considering, yet it was that plan which moved the army. It provided, simply, that the army organizations be kept intact and the troops sent to a convenient rendezvous. There the men were to go into camp until muster-rolls and payrolls had been made out, then they were to be sent by boat and rail to their various States, where they were to be paid off and dismissed.
Its vital feature was the provision that the work of disbandment be carried on by an organization already in existence: the mighty machine which had been devised for getting men from their homes into the army was to be used now for returning them. The officers who had become experts in mustering in men were now to muster them out. The transportation facilities which had taken the men south were to be devoted to taking them north.
As soon as the scheme had been approved, the first of a long series of orders reducing the army was issued. In rapid succession they followed each other. Recruits, patients in hospitals, officers and men whose terms expired before May 31st, the troops with Meade and Sherman whose terms expired before September 30th were to be disbanded. Order after order, calling the men from the field, had been issued before the last hostile force had surrendered on May 26th.
In response to these orders, the bulldog grip which the Union forces had so long had on the South now loosened. The men released by each successive decree began at once to move out from the points in the East or West where they were stationed to the rendezvous selected for them: men from the armies of Meade and Sherman to Washington; from that of Thomas, to Nashville or Louisville; from that of Canby, to New Orleans, Vicksburg, or Mobile. All over the vast area a movement northward towards the rendezvous was immediately perceptible.
Its vital feature was the provision that the work of disbandment be carried on by an organization already in existence: the mighty machine which had been devised for getting men from their homes into the army was to be used now for returning them. The officers who had become experts in mustering in men were now to muster them out. The transportation facilities which had taken the men south were to be devoted to taking them north.
As soon as the scheme had been approved, the first of a long series of orders reducing the army was issued. In rapid succession they followed each other. Recruits, patients in hospitals, officers and men whose terms expired before May 31st, the troops with Meade and Sherman whose terms expired before September 30th were to be disbanded. Order after order, calling the men from the field, had been issued before the last hostile force had surrendered on May 26th.
In response to these orders, the bulldog grip which the Union forces had so long had on the South now loosened. The men released by each successive decree began at once to move out from the points in the East or West where they were stationed to the rendezvous selected for them: men from the armies of Meade and Sherman to Washington; from that of Thomas, to Nashville or Louisville; from that of Canby, to New Orleans, Vicksburg, or Mobile. All over the vast area a movement northward towards the rendezvous was immediately perceptible.
- The Effect on the Individual Union Soldier of the Sudden End of the Civil War
The suddenness with which the soldiers were turned around—before the fact that the war was over—was clearly in their heads. They were marched for home with as much dispatch as if they were going into battle, and it produced a feeling of bewilderment. The army disbanded! What did it mean? Why, nothing less than that they were out of work—their occupation gone!
Soldiering had become their business. What were they going to do? Work on the farm had gone on in their absence. Their benches had been filled. Others were teaching their schools. And then there was a large element who had no homes to go to; to whom a return North meant nothing but wandering until fortune offered something.
But it was not only the sense of being thrown adrift which affected the soldiers when the order for disbandment was first received. Four years of fighting, of defeat, and of victory, had hardened many of them into warriors, and they loved their trade. They might grumble at times, but the passion for danger and adventure had its hold upon them, and no man who has once learned to love war steps back to a civilian’s life with a whole heart.
Great numbers of them had gone into the army boys and had been made men by danger and suffering. Here they had for the first time faced big things—for the first time felt great emotions. They clung, as all men do, to that which had awakened their natures. It was not strange, then, that they at first should have felt something like regret.
But this wave of regret was everywhere brief. As soon as the men’s faces were set for the North there was a blaze of joyous emotion. They were going home. With every step, the old associations, the old scenes refilled their minds. Under the influence of this new phase of feeling, the armies marched to their rendezvous in incredibly short periods. Thus, Sherman’s army made the march of 156 miles from Raleigh to Richmond in five and one-half days.
“It seems as if the men cannot go fast enough,” was the general comment.
Soldiering had become their business. What were they going to do? Work on the farm had gone on in their absence. Their benches had been filled. Others were teaching their schools. And then there was a large element who had no homes to go to; to whom a return North meant nothing but wandering until fortune offered something.
But it was not only the sense of being thrown adrift which affected the soldiers when the order for disbandment was first received. Four years of fighting, of defeat, and of victory, had hardened many of them into warriors, and they loved their trade. They might grumble at times, but the passion for danger and adventure had its hold upon them, and no man who has once learned to love war steps back to a civilian’s life with a whole heart.
Great numbers of them had gone into the army boys and had been made men by danger and suffering. Here they had for the first time faced big things—for the first time felt great emotions. They clung, as all men do, to that which had awakened their natures. It was not strange, then, that they at first should have felt something like regret.
But this wave of regret was everywhere brief. As soon as the men’s faces were set for the North there was a blaze of joyous emotion. They were going home. With every step, the old associations, the old scenes refilled their minds. Under the influence of this new phase of feeling, the armies marched to their rendezvous in incredibly short periods. Thus, Sherman’s army made the march of 156 miles from Raleigh to Richmond in five and one-half days.
“It seems as if the men cannot go fast enough,” was the general comment.
- Maintaining Control of One Million Soldiers on Their Return Home
Considering the exuberance of the feeling, the marches were orderly. Rigid orders had been given the men concerning pillaging. Hitherto they had confiscated as a right of war, but the war was over now, and no soldier hereafter had a right to a chicken or a loaf of bread for which he did not pay.
This restriction came particularly hard on those troops who had been “living off the country.” It was, perhaps, requiring too much of human nature to expect they should not now and then break ranks and have a riot of chicken-stealing and house-breaking. Their punishment, if caught, was always severe and humiliating. They were labeled “pillagers,” and tied to a fence by which the whole army marched, jeering and deriding. Happily there were but rare outbreaks of this kind, and none of them were very grave; and the occasional disorders were more than compensated for by the real sympathy the men showed for the poverty and suffering they found all along their march. |
"Punishment for stealing was severe and humiliating."
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They constantly met half-starved, half-clad Confederate soldiers, painfully making their way to their homes—sometimes alone, often in groups of two or three. Not infrequently they found a worn-out man dying by the roadside. With these men the Federal troops fraternized in the most kindly way, sharing their rations with them, bespeaking horses for them from the quartermaster, often taking their addresses, and promising them help when they returned north.
As the troops reached the centers around which the hardest and longest struggles had been waged—Vicksburg, Chattanooga, Richmond—their excitement and interest arose to the highest pitch. They encountered at these places the troops who were being held for further duty, and at once fell to exchanging experiences.
For a full account of the march to the sea, the soldier of the Army of the Potomac, left at Richmond, conducted his comrade from Sherman’s troops over the fortifications of Petersburg, through the shell-battered town, to the crater, and down to City Point, so long Grant’s headquarters.
For a full account of the march to the sea, the soldier of the Army of the Potomac, left at Richmond, conducted his comrade from Sherman’s troops over the fortifications of Petersburg, through the shell-battered town, to the crater, and down to City Point, so long Grant’s headquarters.
When Sherman’s army started from Richmond it marched out by the Hanover Court House road, but there divided into four columns, one taking a route by Chilesburg, another by Culpeper and Manassas, a third by Chancellorsville, and the fourth by Fredericksburg. By this distribution the army covered almost every battlefield of Northern Virginia.
The entire force was completely engrossed in sight-seeing, the interest beginning with General Sherman himself, who, in his eager desire to see and know all possible of the campaign of the Army of the Potomac, shifted from column to column, visiting, en-route, Spotsylvania, Fredericksburg, Dumfries, and other fields. The war was over, and already the day of reminiscences had opened. |
The entire force was completely engrossed in sight-seeing.
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- Arriving at the Rendezvous and Being Discharged From the Army
“They helped those they found in despair on the road home.”
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The first large bodies of troops to reach a rendezvous were Meade’s and Sherman’s armies, both of which, by May 20th, were encamped along the Potomac, opposite Washington, most of them within sight of the dome of the capital. In all the two armies numbered 200,000 men, brought from the field since the surrender of Lee.
The second step in the disbandment was the preparation of muster-out and payrolls. Just what this entailed only those who have examined the rolls can realize. On them every man’s army history had to be registered; his rank and age, when and where and by whom he was enrolled, when and where and by whom mustered in, when last paid and to what time, how far he had traveled, what subsistence and forage he had furnished, what equipment and clothing he had received, his absences, special duties, promotions, wounds, illnesses—an array of figures, dates, and facts upon whose accuracy all the future relations of that man with the War Department must be regulated. |
The mere printing of the blanks of these rolls and of the discharge papers for the men was keeping the government printing-presses busy night and day, while filling them meant work for hundreds of officers and clerks.
Everything was ready for this work when Sherman and Meade reached their rendezvous, and headquarters were at once established and the rolls started.
The delay necessary to making out the rolls caused everywhere a percentage of trouble. Why he could not be disbanded at once many a volunteer could not understand. The war was over and he wanted to go home. Why not let him go there from Vicksburg, Louisville, Washington? Why all this “fuss and feathers?” The “free-born American,” who, at the beginning of the war, could not understand why one should not say “hello” to the colonel, now refused to see any reason why ranks should not be broken on the spot.
This spirit showed itself now and then in small mutinies. Castle Thunder, in Richmond, and Old Capitol Prison, in Washington, were full most of the summer of 1865, of men who had made up their minds to do their own disbanding, but had been restrained at the point of the bayonet.
The delay necessary to making out the rolls caused everywhere a percentage of trouble. Why he could not be disbanded at once many a volunteer could not understand. The war was over and he wanted to go home. Why not let him go there from Vicksburg, Louisville, Washington? Why all this “fuss and feathers?” The “free-born American,” who, at the beginning of the war, could not understand why one should not say “hello” to the colonel, now refused to see any reason why ranks should not be broken on the spot.
This spirit showed itself now and then in small mutinies. Castle Thunder, in Richmond, and Old Capitol Prison, in Washington, were full most of the summer of 1865, of men who had made up their minds to do their own disbanding, but had been restrained at the point of the bayonet.
- The Grand Review and Its Effect on the Citizens of the United States
The men were kept in order by regular drilling and by many reviews. The greatest of these was a Grand Review ordered by Mr. Stanton while Sherman and Meade’s armies were waiting around Washington. The Secretary of War wished the President, the Cabinet, Congress, the country, to see what an army meant, and ordered that Meade’s army on May 23rd and Sherman’s on the 24th pass in review before the members of the administration.
The pageant was by far the noblest this land has ever seen. It was not the glitter of the thousands of bayonets and sabers and polished brass cannon which made it so, not the hundreds of battle-flags and banners in line, not the splendid gathering of generals who had distinguished themselves in the war—Meade, Sherman, Custer, Crooks, Hartranft, Miles, Howard, Logan, Blair, Buell; it was the men in ranks who, for six hours on one day, seven on the other, passed sixty abreast in “cadence step” through the wide Washington avenues. The great throng which had gathered in Washington to witness the review sat as if spell-bound watching hour after hour these great blue masses passing as steadily and rhythmically as an ocean tide. Now and then men turned wondering dazed eyes to each other and asked, “Where did they all come from? Have we sent so many men to the front? Is it true that this is but one-fifth of the army? “With this surprise at the numbers came a deeper surprise—that an army looked like this. |
The soldiers walked six abreast in "cadence step" for six hours on one day and seven hours on the other.
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For four years they had been seeing soldiers daily—buoyant lads, marching with shining eyes to the front, or crippled men crawling home to die—but soldiers like these they did not know. These men were bronzed and stern and indifferent. The spectators felt almost a terror in watching the ranks, so irresistible seemed their power, so mighty their will. This, then, was what Lincoln meant when he talked to them of “veterans.”
This was the kind of men war made of their bright-faced boys.
The effect of the Grand Review on the people of the country was deeper than Mr. Stanton ever had dreamed. They saw at last the quality of the men the war had called out, and, though they shuddered at what the tattered banners recalled, and wept as they realized how often these rows of soldiers’ regiments had been cut to fragments and refilled, they carried away a great thankfulness. They saw now why the young Republic had been able to grapple successfully with the most dangerous enemy a country can have--an evil within.
If the belief that a great principle was in danger could raise up such a body of men as this, then government by the people was no longer an experiment.
For the North the Grand Review was a benediction on the Civil War.
This was the kind of men war made of their bright-faced boys.
The effect of the Grand Review on the people of the country was deeper than Mr. Stanton ever had dreamed. They saw at last the quality of the men the war had called out, and, though they shuddered at what the tattered banners recalled, and wept as they realized how often these rows of soldiers’ regiments had been cut to fragments and refilled, they carried away a great thankfulness. They saw now why the young Republic had been able to grapple successfully with the most dangerous enemy a country can have--an evil within.
If the belief that a great principle was in danger could raise up such a body of men as this, then government by the people was no longer an experiment.
For the North the Grand Review was a benediction on the Civil War.
- The Final Dispersion North … and Home
In the interval after the order for disbandment came, and while the troops were marching to their rendezvous, transportation by river and rail had been preparing to take the men to their State camps. All the steamers, cars, and engines of the North were at the service of the government for this task. Indeed, from now on the transportation service of the North existed first for the soldier.
Everything was ready then, when, on May 29th, the first body of Sherman’s and Meade’s soldiers was marched to the station at Washington to lead in the northward flow of the armies. So perfect were the plans, so complete the preparation, that in the next forty days the one little railway which then led from Washington to the Relay House, a junction north of the city, carried away 233,200 men, 12,838 horses, and 4,300,850 pounds of baggage. All the States of the North were represented in the two armies, so that at the Relay House the solid stream which had flowed from the capital divided for east and west. At Baltimore and Parkersburg these branches divided again. The troops for New England, New York, and portions of the Middle West were taken by rail to New York City. Here they were reassorted, and sent to their several States. Those for the Northwest were transferred to steamers at Parkersburg and carried down the Ohio to Cincinnati, Louisville, Lawrenceville (Ind.), and St. Louis, and again divided and forwarded. Soon every railroad of the North; the Ohio, the Mississippi, the Lakes, were carrying a ceaseless stream of men.
To join the troops from Washington there soon came those who had been mustered out at Louisville, Charleston, Savannah, Mobile, Vicksburg, St. Louis, Nashville; and the whole country north of the Ohio was crisscrossed with lines of living blue. Throughout the summer and fall this kept up, until the tramp of soldiers became one of the sounds of every street, blue coats a part of the general coloring of every town.
Everything was ready then, when, on May 29th, the first body of Sherman’s and Meade’s soldiers was marched to the station at Washington to lead in the northward flow of the armies. So perfect were the plans, so complete the preparation, that in the next forty days the one little railway which then led from Washington to the Relay House, a junction north of the city, carried away 233,200 men, 12,838 horses, and 4,300,850 pounds of baggage. All the States of the North were represented in the two armies, so that at the Relay House the solid stream which had flowed from the capital divided for east and west. At Baltimore and Parkersburg these branches divided again. The troops for New England, New York, and portions of the Middle West were taken by rail to New York City. Here they were reassorted, and sent to their several States. Those for the Northwest were transferred to steamers at Parkersburg and carried down the Ohio to Cincinnati, Louisville, Lawrenceville (Ind.), and St. Louis, and again divided and forwarded. Soon every railroad of the North; the Ohio, the Mississippi, the Lakes, were carrying a ceaseless stream of men.
To join the troops from Washington there soon came those who had been mustered out at Louisville, Charleston, Savannah, Mobile, Vicksburg, St. Louis, Nashville; and the whole country north of the Ohio was crisscrossed with lines of living blue. Throughout the summer and fall this kept up, until the tramp of soldiers became one of the sounds of every street, blue coats a part of the general coloring of every town.
As soon as the soldiers were north of the Potomac and Ohio they began to rejoice over the change from the want and desolation of the South to the order, thrift, and plenty of the North. They hung from the car windows and crowded the decks of the boats, admiring and exulting.
The farmers were at work in the fields, gardens were green, apple-trees in blossom. The ways of doing things, the style of house and barn, the white meeting-house, the country school—all the familiar things they had grown up with—were before them. It was “God’s country,” they said, and they would never leave it again. At every station, they swarmed forth to shake hands with the crowds, which seemed all the summer and fall to be always on hand to cheer them, to offer them hot coffee or cool drinks, to fill their pockets with fruit and cakes. When, as sometimes happened at stations, there were delays, they fell to playing ball, chuck-a-luck, or leapfrog, with the abandon of boys. |
The soldiers fell to playing ball with the abandon of boys.
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- Monitoring Every Aspect of the Movement to Get Each Soldier to the Doorstep of Home
There was great care taken that the delays at stations where changes were made should not be long; nevertheless, at great terminals like New York, Cleveland, or Chicago, it was inevitable there should be frequent congestions of soldiers. In New York, permanent barracks were erected on Howard Street and at the Battery, to which the regiments were marched as soon as they came into town. Their coming was so continuous that a standing head in the city papers came to be “The Returning Soldiers.” It was the merest enumeration of the regiments arriving—the names of their officers, and the list of the battles in which they had fought, and sometimes the numbers of men they had lost.
So common a sight did the soldiers become in New York and other great centers that after a few weeks they passed almost unheeded in the streets. This indifference so shocked the “Evening Post” that, as early as June 7th, it protested energetically against the coldness of the populace and begged that henceforth the soldiers be cheered as they marched through.
It was intended that each company, in reaching its State, be sent immediately to the camp where it had been mustered in, if possible. Several camps existed in each State. Thus those in New York State were at Poughkeepsie, Newburg, Albany, Plattsburg, Ogdensburg, Sackett’s Harbor, Auburn, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo, Elmira, Binghamton, and Norwich. It was here in these encampments that many of the most touching reunions after the war took place.
Each returning company found, already in camp, companies from the same district, which had been doing service in fields far distant from its own. Men from Sherman’s army here found comrades who had been serving with Thomas, with Canby, with Meade. For months, perhaps years, the men had known nothing of each other. They had enlisted together—one was sent east, another west; scores of their fellows had been killed, they knew.
“Is Bill still alive?” the man asked himself sometimes at night, when alone on picket he thought of home. The silence was ominous. Probably Bill was dead. And now here, the first man to greet him as he entered was his boyhood friend. It was these reunions, with the exchange of experiences, the stories of battle, and the endless discussions of the merits of their favorite generals—of Grant, Sherman, “Old Pap Thomas,” or “Little Phil”—that made the few last days of army life and discipline, here at the very threshold of their homes, tolerable to the men.
They could not, and probably would not, have endured it long. Nor were they obliged to. Ahead of them in camp were the officers with their discharge papers and their pay, and as rapidly as it could be done each man was dismissed. It was characteristic of the foresight with which the entire business of disbandment was managed that it was arranged that the soldiers should not be paid until they were within the restraining and protecting influence of their own homes. The soldiers, their pay in their pockets, would certainly have deserted in shoals in the delays at rendezvous and camps, and most of them would have been easy prey for the crowds of sharpers which gathered at every point, hoping that payday would put the men in their power.
So common a sight did the soldiers become in New York and other great centers that after a few weeks they passed almost unheeded in the streets. This indifference so shocked the “Evening Post” that, as early as June 7th, it protested energetically against the coldness of the populace and begged that henceforth the soldiers be cheered as they marched through.
It was intended that each company, in reaching its State, be sent immediately to the camp where it had been mustered in, if possible. Several camps existed in each State. Thus those in New York State were at Poughkeepsie, Newburg, Albany, Plattsburg, Ogdensburg, Sackett’s Harbor, Auburn, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo, Elmira, Binghamton, and Norwich. It was here in these encampments that many of the most touching reunions after the war took place.
Each returning company found, already in camp, companies from the same district, which had been doing service in fields far distant from its own. Men from Sherman’s army here found comrades who had been serving with Thomas, with Canby, with Meade. For months, perhaps years, the men had known nothing of each other. They had enlisted together—one was sent east, another west; scores of their fellows had been killed, they knew.
“Is Bill still alive?” the man asked himself sometimes at night, when alone on picket he thought of home. The silence was ominous. Probably Bill was dead. And now here, the first man to greet him as he entered was his boyhood friend. It was these reunions, with the exchange of experiences, the stories of battle, and the endless discussions of the merits of their favorite generals—of Grant, Sherman, “Old Pap Thomas,” or “Little Phil”—that made the few last days of army life and discipline, here at the very threshold of their homes, tolerable to the men.
They could not, and probably would not, have endured it long. Nor were they obliged to. Ahead of them in camp were the officers with their discharge papers and their pay, and as rapidly as it could be done each man was dismissed. It was characteristic of the foresight with which the entire business of disbandment was managed that it was arranged that the soldiers should not be paid until they were within the restraining and protecting influence of their own homes. The soldiers, their pay in their pockets, would certainly have deserted in shoals in the delays at rendezvous and camps, and most of them would have been easy prey for the crowds of sharpers which gathered at every point, hoping that payday would put the men in their power.
This disorganization was prevented by making payday the last day in the process of disbandment. The matter was the more important because the sum to be distributed was so large.
The Army of the Potomac had not been paid since December 31, 1864, Sherman’s and Thomas’s armies had not been paid since August, 1864. There were bounties coming to many men and officers. The aggregate amount of money paid out to 800,000 men discharged by November 15th was about $270,000,000. Thus it was that though a man reached his State camp penniless he found himself free a few days later with a comfortable sum in his pocket. The first use he made of his money in most cases was to buy the arms he had carried through his service. These arms belonged to the government and were to be deposited in the State arsenals unless bought by the men. Many preferred to do this, and so, with knapsack on his back, musket in hand, the soldier presented himself at last at his own home door. |
"Soldiers returning home."
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- For the 1865–66 Timeframe, This Was an All-Too-Unheralded Feat of Logistics
It was on May 29th, as has been stated, that the first soldiers left their rendezvous. By August 7th, General Vincent was able to report 640,806 volunteers mustered out; by September 14th, 741,107; by November 15th, 800,963; by February 15, 1866, 952,452. In nine months practically the whole force of volunteers had been returned to their homes. The disbandment had been accomplished so easily, so quickly, that the country had hardly realized what was going on. General Grant did not say too much when, in October, he wrote Mr. Stanton that 800,000 men had passed from the army to civil life so quietly that it was scarcely known “save by the welcome to their homes received by them.”
And yet this feat, which at the time passed unheeded, was the greatest feat in handling men which this or any government has ever performed. Its success was due primarily to the fact that the administration, instead of organizing a new bureau for the work and filling it with inexperienced men, used the trained men it had on hand in the department which had been mustering men into the army; secondly, to the fact that the reversing of the great engines of the mustering-in bureau took place at once, and from the beginning to the end of disbandment the great Napoleonic war rule—time is everything—was vigorously enforced.
A simple business proposition carried out in a business-like way, men say. And this is true, but that it should have been considered such by the army and the government, and so carried through, was, at the time, the wonder of every foreign civilized government, and it remains one of the most splendid achievements of the country.
What followed was even more wonderful.
And yet this feat, which at the time passed unheeded, was the greatest feat in handling men which this or any government has ever performed. Its success was due primarily to the fact that the administration, instead of organizing a new bureau for the work and filling it with inexperienced men, used the trained men it had on hand in the department which had been mustering men into the army; secondly, to the fact that the reversing of the great engines of the mustering-in bureau took place at once, and from the beginning to the end of disbandment the great Napoleonic war rule—time is everything—was vigorously enforced.
A simple business proposition carried out in a business-like way, men say. And this is true, but that it should have been considered such by the army and the government, and so carried through, was, at the time, the wonder of every foreign civilized government, and it remains one of the most splendid achievements of the country.
What followed was even more wonderful.
- The Conditions of the North Country When Arriving Home
The soldier was at home, and now, according to all prophets, the country must see trouble. As soon as the order to disband the volunteers had gone forth, the North had begun to ask itself what they were going to do with the million men about to inundate them. Those of the country who took forethought, who knew the history of peoples, who had studied the phenomena of population, looked with foreboding on the coming deluge.
They recalled that after the Napoleonic wars, France was alive with beggars and cripples, that the end of the Thirty Years’ War filled Germany with marauding bands of musketeers, that the close of the Italian wars, so thick were her hills and valleys with brigands, it made Italy unsafe for travel. The newspapers began to warn and advise. Police departments increased their force. The governors of many States asked the War Department for troops to keep the disbanded soldiers in order. Yet by November 800,000 men had been disbanded, and nothing had happened. The men seemed to disappear: What had become of them?
As a matter of fact, the men had gone to work. The soldier of 1865 did not ask to be coddled. He was a manly, matter-of-fact individual, who, having done his best at fighting, and having enjoyed it for the most part, came home, the job done, with one idea in his mind—to get another. He had not begun to estimate how much the country owed him, he had no stomach for sentiment, and he wanted work. He took off his blue coat, hung up his knapsack and musket, and went out to “hunt a job.”
In his dignified task he had the country with him. From the time that the order for disbandment was made public, the North had been discussing its own duty to the returned soldiers. Gradually the people had made up their minds to certain things: the soldier must never be allowed to become a pauper; if disabled, he must have a pension; if he could work, he must do so, and work must be provided for him in preference to other men.
They recalled that after the Napoleonic wars, France was alive with beggars and cripples, that the end of the Thirty Years’ War filled Germany with marauding bands of musketeers, that the close of the Italian wars, so thick were her hills and valleys with brigands, it made Italy unsafe for travel. The newspapers began to warn and advise. Police departments increased their force. The governors of many States asked the War Department for troops to keep the disbanded soldiers in order. Yet by November 800,000 men had been disbanded, and nothing had happened. The men seemed to disappear: What had become of them?
As a matter of fact, the men had gone to work. The soldier of 1865 did not ask to be coddled. He was a manly, matter-of-fact individual, who, having done his best at fighting, and having enjoyed it for the most part, came home, the job done, with one idea in his mind—to get another. He had not begun to estimate how much the country owed him, he had no stomach for sentiment, and he wanted work. He took off his blue coat, hung up his knapsack and musket, and went out to “hunt a job.”
In his dignified task he had the country with him. From the time that the order for disbandment was made public, the North had been discussing its own duty to the returned soldiers. Gradually the people had made up their minds to certain things: the soldier must never be allowed to become a pauper; if disabled, he must have a pension; if he could work, he must do so, and work must be provided for him in preference to other men.
This was to be the country’s reward to him—to see that he got work, steady work, and at once. To the carrying out of these principles it gave its whole mind. The disabled were already in the care of the Pension Office, the roll in the summer of 1865 being about 86,000, 34,000 of whom were soldiers . The appropriation for these 86,000 pensions amounted to over $8,000,000, and the “Tribune,” in commenting on the figures, estimated that when all the pensions arising from the war should have been paid, the amount would be about $13,000,000 annually. In 1898 it was $145,748,865.
The invalids taken care of, there was a nice task in finding work for the semi-invalids. From the first, the government departments were looked to as appropriate places for the returned soldiers. The attitude of the departments in 1865 [before the end of the Civil War] was shown in a notice put out by the Treasury Department. Some fifty applications a day, said the authorities, were being received from disabled soldiers, but no applications could be considered at all, as no vacancies existed. |
"The disabled were in the care of the Pension Office."
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Such a reason for not receiving applications from “old soldiers,” if made a few years later [after the end of the Civil War] would have been enough to oust a Secretary and shake the foundations of an administration.
Great numbers of half-disabled men found employments through the bureau established by the Sanitary Commission, and many others worked themselves into places. Not an unusual advertisement in the prints of those days was such as the following, copied from the “Tribune:”
“Mr. J. H. S—a disabled soldier, has established an office at No. 124 Fulton Street, where he will receive orders for carrying messages, small packages, and parcels and other business. We commend him to public favor.”
There is more than one prosperous business in the United States today started in the summer of 1865 in this small way.
Great numbers of men found awaiting them places which had been kept open—carpenters, painters, trades people of all sorts were offered their old positions in hundreds, even thousands of cases. Sir Samuel Peto, an Englishman, who published a volume in 1866 on “American Resources,” records that soon after the close of the war he was in Chicago, and there visited a printing establishment. The proprietor pointed out forty-seven compositors who had been soldiers. “This man was a major,” he told Sir Samuel. “The next to him a captain, the third a lieutenant, another a sergeant. … They were only too happy to return to situations which I had given them an understanding, when they left me, that I would retain open for them.” [See Footnote #2 - This tradition continued through World War II]
Officers in particular were in great demand as business partners and as promoters of new enterprises, their names being considered equal to a good lump of capital.
A New York paper wrote in the fall of 1865:
“One of our military leaders is now in charge of a machine for a patent pumping; another is building a railway through the oil country; one of the first soldiers of the Army of the Potomac is in the pistol business; another keeps a retail grocery store, while one of Sherman’s most trusted lieutenants is a claim agent. One major-general prints a weekly paper in Baltimore.
“These starred and battered gentlemen go down from the command of colonels to become agents and partners and dealers, perhaps with the orderly who stood before their tents, or the private who held their stirrups.”
Great numbers of half-disabled men found employments through the bureau established by the Sanitary Commission, and many others worked themselves into places. Not an unusual advertisement in the prints of those days was such as the following, copied from the “Tribune:”
“Mr. J. H. S—a disabled soldier, has established an office at No. 124 Fulton Street, where he will receive orders for carrying messages, small packages, and parcels and other business. We commend him to public favor.”
There is more than one prosperous business in the United States today started in the summer of 1865 in this small way.
Great numbers of men found awaiting them places which had been kept open—carpenters, painters, trades people of all sorts were offered their old positions in hundreds, even thousands of cases. Sir Samuel Peto, an Englishman, who published a volume in 1866 on “American Resources,” records that soon after the close of the war he was in Chicago, and there visited a printing establishment. The proprietor pointed out forty-seven compositors who had been soldiers. “This man was a major,” he told Sir Samuel. “The next to him a captain, the third a lieutenant, another a sergeant. … They were only too happy to return to situations which I had given them an understanding, when they left me, that I would retain open for them.” [See Footnote #2 - This tradition continued through World War II]
Officers in particular were in great demand as business partners and as promoters of new enterprises, their names being considered equal to a good lump of capital.
A New York paper wrote in the fall of 1865:
“One of our military leaders is now in charge of a machine for a patent pumping; another is building a railway through the oil country; one of the first soldiers of the Army of the Potomac is in the pistol business; another keeps a retail grocery store, while one of Sherman’s most trusted lieutenants is a claim agent. One major-general prints a weekly paper in Baltimore.
“These starred and battered gentlemen go down from the command of colonels to become agents and partners and dealers, perhaps with the orderly who stood before their tents, or the private who held their stirrups.”
- Providing the Encouragement and Means to Safely Save Their Earnings
Seven-thirty loans paid interest of $7.30 on a hundred dollars.
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A widespread and healthy sentiment which the soldier encountered on his return regarded his savings, those snug little sums that most of the men found in their pockets as the result of the long delay in paying the armies. The men must not be fleeced out of these, so everybody had decided—they must be persuaded to invest them.
A favorite investment with many soldiers was the seven-thirties, a national loan issued in sums from $50 upward, and bearing interest at 7½ percent. The seven-thirties were advertised in every town and at every country corner. Agents for them traveled the North over, subscriptions were taken at night, every device possible was practiced for putting them in the way of workingmen and soldiers. Many soldiers did take advantage of the loan, though a greater number used their money more boldly. |
These soldiers sought the oil regions of Pennsylvania, the silver mines of Colorado, the gold mines of Idaho, the cornfields of Kansas, the scenes of any one of the tremendous developments of national resources which had taken place in the four years they had been fighting, hoping to “make a strike” there which would give them wealth.
- This Process Took Soldiers of Courage and Daring and the Cooperation of People at Home
These then were the outlets into which the returning legions flowed. That they disappeared so promptly and quietly was due primarily to the manliness of the men themselves, their sturdy independence, their unconsciousness of their own deserts, their healthy desire for work. But there was another factor in their assimilation which should not be forgotten. It never could have taken place without the cooperation of the people at home. It was they who had by gigantic sacrifices furnished the money for the war.
It was their energy which had at the same time developed the West, increased imports, opened new industries. It was they who foresaw the danger in the floods of men which the disbanding of the volunteers would cause, and prepared for them, opening to them their old positions, calling them to new enterprises. It was they who said to every civilian, “You must step aside until the soldier is served;” to the soldier, “You must work and here is a place.” The citizens of the North deserve, indeed, as much credit for the rapid assimilation of the volunteer army in 1865 as the War Department for its orderly disbandment.
Manliness, vigor, foresight, efficiency explain the success of the gigantic undertaking, but behind these great qualities—their motive power—was the hallowing flood of solemn and tender emotions which swept over the country at the sight of the returning soldiers. Men remembered them as they had gone forth—gay fresh, and youthful. They saw them now stern, bronzed, and mature.
Every one of these returning men recalled, too, others that had gone out with him, but would never return—recalled terrible days after great battles, defeats, slaughter, long waiting for victory. With the bitter memories came the deep thankfulness that now finally it was all over. There would be no more battles, no more prisons, no more lists of dead and wounded.
The war was over; the cause won. There was too great and too reverent a thanksgiving in the North in 1865 for men to neglect the interests of the boys in blue.
It was their energy which had at the same time developed the West, increased imports, opened new industries. It was they who foresaw the danger in the floods of men which the disbanding of the volunteers would cause, and prepared for them, opening to them their old positions, calling them to new enterprises. It was they who said to every civilian, “You must step aside until the soldier is served;” to the soldier, “You must work and here is a place.” The citizens of the North deserve, indeed, as much credit for the rapid assimilation of the volunteer army in 1865 as the War Department for its orderly disbandment.
Manliness, vigor, foresight, efficiency explain the success of the gigantic undertaking, but behind these great qualities—their motive power—was the hallowing flood of solemn and tender emotions which swept over the country at the sight of the returning soldiers. Men remembered them as they had gone forth—gay fresh, and youthful. They saw them now stern, bronzed, and mature.
Every one of these returning men recalled, too, others that had gone out with him, but would never return—recalled terrible days after great battles, defeats, slaughter, long waiting for victory. With the bitter memories came the deep thankfulness that now finally it was all over. There would be no more battles, no more prisons, no more lists of dead and wounded.
The war was over; the cause won. There was too great and too reverent a thanksgiving in the North in 1865 for men to neglect the interests of the boys in blue.
The men were quick to feel the spirit of the welcome. They realized the sincerity of the enthusiasm and the helpfulness which met them on every hand. They saw themselves the honored guests of the North, and their pride and self-respect were aroused.
They came at once, too, under the sanctifying influence of reunion with friends and families. As they marched into a town they saw again and again a woman rush from a cheering crowd to cling sobbing to a husband, a child bound out crying, “Father! Father!” a comrade spring from the ranks to clasp a mother. It was the sight of wives weeping with joy, of mothers thanking God for their sons; which all the summer and fall stirred the hearts of the returning soldiers. For the sake of these sweet things more than all else, these men, in whom love of danger and adventure had become a strong and compelling passion, hung up their guns and cheerfully took up the steady grind of earning their daily bread. |
"Wives wept with joy, children bound out crying, "Father, Father!"
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Footnote #1: Parole is “an agreement between a prisoner of war and their captors that the prisoner, upon release, will not again take up arms against those who captured them—in this case the United States, for a defined time period or for the duration of the war.”
Footnote #2: This "tradition" continued for the largest and best companies of American corporations that supported the United States' World War I and World War II efforts. To read a summary of IBM's contributions to supporting its war veterans, read this article: [Rehiring World War II Veterans].
Footnote #2: This "tradition" continued for the largest and best companies of American corporations that supported the United States' World War I and World War II efforts. To read a summary of IBM's contributions to supporting its war veterans, read this article: [Rehiring World War II Veterans].
For the contrast between returning home as a Confederate Soldier instead of a Union Soldier, this author recommends reading the Ida M. Tarbell article found on this website that discusses "The Disbanding of the Confederate Army" which can be found here: [Confederate Army Disbanding]