EXPEDITION TO GOLDSBORO—SKIRMISHING—SOUTHWEST CREEK—BATTLES OF KINSTON, WHITEHALL, AND GOLDSBORO—INCIDENTS—RETURN OF THE EXPEDITION TO NEWBERN—THE 17TH RELIEVED BY THE 45TH IN NEWBERN—ACROSS THE TRENT—BUILDING FORTS—SICKNESS—BEAUFORT—AN ACCOUNT OF THE FREEDMEN, ETC., ETC.

The indulgent reader, who has accompanied me thus far in my peregrinations through Dixie, need not be alarmed, upon looking at the caption of this page, at the prospect of being bored with so many dry, solid pages as he has waded through in the first part of this work. I have prepared this literary feast, if not of the best materials (and I have no better, I assure you), at least after the most approved style of French cookery, and, therefore, have kept back the best dishes to the last. It is in this second part of my humble work, that I hope to give the most stirring (I might say thrilling) and interesting part of my narrative of

“Moving accidents by flood and field,"—

and, if I do not succeed to my own satisfaction, I hope, at least, to give satisfaction to my patrons. This done, I can pocket the profits with a clear conscience.

In November, 1862, when the nine-months troops had about all arrived, the work of brigading them with the old regiments, and drilling them in field movements, was undertaken and vigorously prosecuted.

Preparations on a scale of considerable magnitude for a large expedition had been going on for some time; but to what point it was destined was wisely kept a secret, though it was generally understood to have some connection with the movement of Burnside in Virginia.

On the 8th of December, the war-worn veterans of General Wessells’ brigade (of Gen. Peck’s division) arrived in Newbern, and preparations for the expedition were hastily completed. The same evening, at dress parade, an order was read from Gen. Foster to all the regiments, to be ready to march in thirty-six hours in light marching order, viz.: without knapsacks, carrying only blankets and overcoats, with three days cooked rations to be carried in haversacks, seven days’ to be conveyed in wagons.

The following day was a busy one for the quartermasters of the Subsistence Department, and the cooks. In the evening the guards were withdrawn, and the 8th Mass. regiment, which had not yet been fully provided with arms and equipments, took charge of the city, and sent out details of men to patrol the streets.

This was a busy night for us all. Like sailors before a storm, we had to make snug our tackle, and spread only as much sail as we thought the ship could conveniently carry. Everything in the shape of spare clothes and blankets were snugly packed in our knapsacks; and, when the final order came for us to be in line at three o’clock in the morning, we were ready at the moment to start. But we visited Billy Patterson, and each man proceeded to stow away into his haversack what he judged would be sufficient to subsist him for three days. We then turned in, to gain a little repose and freshen our energies against the morrow.

At three o’clock on the morning of Thursday, Dec. 11, 1862, we were awakened by the bugle call, and after a hasty meal, formed in the yard of our quarters, and proceeded to the place of rendezvous for the regiment on —— street. A gray, frosty mist enveloped the city, which was alive with marching men, horse, foot, and artillery, and forage and ambulance trains. As early as was the hour, however, the whole population—especially the negro portion—seemed abroad in the streets, and many a fervent prayer and good wish for our success were showered upon us by the poor negro women as we passed along.

“Oh,” exclaimed one, “I know de Lord am walkin’ alongside ob you, and you will beat de rebs, I knows—I knows!”

“Aunty,” sang out a soldier from the ranks, “if I don’t come back you’ll never get paid for them clothes you washed for me.”

“Nebber mind de close, honey,” exclaimed the generous old woman; and then, changing her tone, she continued, as if to herself—"Oh, Lord!—de Lord!—Oh good Lord!—Nebber come back!—Oh, de poor sojer!—Lord, help de poor sojer! Amen for de poor sojer!—Amen! Glory!”

We halted on the Trent road, just beyond Fort Totten, and awaited the movement of the various bodies of troops that were to precede us.

The morning broke clear and cool, and beheld a fine array of infantry, cavalry, and artillery taking up their line of march by the Trent road from Newbern. The sight was magnificent as the long lines of infantry with their polished arms, and the cavalry and artillery, slowly but cheerfully took up their line of march, with an elasticity of step and a merry hum of voices that unmistakeably showed how high the spirits and expectations of all were aroused, and that it required only an able general to lead such an army on from victory to victory.

As we advanced into the country the evidences of former strife everywhere met the eye, in the desolated plantations, houses burned to the ground or partially destroyed, and an air of ruin and desolation pervading all.

After a tedious, plodding and plunging march of about fourteen miles, the army bivouacked for the night on a plantation which seemed more fortunate than many others we passed. But its time had come; and as regiment after regiment arrived and stacked arms, it was a curious study to watch the rush they made for the nearest fence, the eager scramble for rails, and the disappearance of the fences, as if by magic. As night darkened over the scene, the countless bivouac fires rose in all directions, casting a lurid glare up to the sky, and forming about as picturesque a scene as could possibly be imagined. And the sound of voices and laughter, and the neighing of horses and unearthly braying of mules, all combined to render that (my first) bivouac a something to be remembered forever.

Beyond where we encamped Thursday evening, the rebels having notice of our approach, blockaded the road for two miles, by felling trees across; but the pioneers set about removing them during the night, and when the army resumed its march in the morning the way was cleared, and we passed on ‘into the bowels of the land.’

About 10 A.M., on Friday, a skirmish occurred near Trenton, between our advanced guard of cavalry and some rebel cavalry and infantry, in which the latter were routed with the loss of three or four killed and several wounded and taken prisoners.

Our advance reached Southwest Creek about noon on Saturday, and the enemy, about 2,000 strong, were posted beyond, with a battery commanding the road.

The 9th New Jersey and Morrison’s battery were sent forward to feel their position, and a smart cannonade of some two hours’ duration took place, when the 9th New Jersey made a detour through the woods and captured the battery, putting the rebels to flight. They made another stand about four miles this side of Kinston, when the same force pushed after them and engaged them for about half an hour, when the rebels again fell back.

While the skirmish was going on, the troops, as they arrived, were assigned their places in line of battle, almost parallel with the road. Towards evening, the regiments bivouacked in the same position they had taken when expecting the assault of the enemy. We were pretty hungry by this time, you may depend, not having, some of us, tasted food for nearly two days. When orders were given to stack arms, there was a general rush for rails, but some of the boys, while seeking out the latter, came across some luckless porkers, which bit the dust, were skinned, and their still quivering flesh subjected to a barely warming process, ere it was devoured by the half-famished soldiers. I fell in for a stray piece, and computed that the flesh I was then devouring, had fifteen minutes before formed a portion of an animate pig, careless of sorrow, and only seeking some innocent pieces of garbage or succulent root wherewith to tickle his palate and satisfy the cravings of hunger. How rapid are transmutations, sometimes! Little did that pig dream that on the morrow he would stimulate the nerves of many a soldier in the defeat of rebels and the capture of Kinston. But so it was; and this curious fact might lead me, if I were given to abstract reasoning, to trace this influence of forces by the abundance of pork. But no; for me are plainer and perhaps more demonstrative revelations.

There was a house in our front about one fourth of a mile distant, whither some of our lads found their way, and soon all the available beds and bedding which the frightened inmates left behind were confiscated and appropriated by the tired soldiers. The pig did not satisfy me. I was too fond of vegetables to be satisfied with flesh, and, accordingly, set out at the first opportunity in search of sweet potatoes. Espying a house upon a rising ground, about a mile to the right of our encampment, I made for it; but night came down just as I was starting, and I was compelled, as it were, to grope my way through a rice-field or swamp that intervened, where I met many a ditch and slough, some of which I avoided, and some I fell into. But, nothing daunted, I held on, and drew near the house, when I beheld in the darkness the dim outlines of a man in my path, of what description—union soldier or guerilla, friend or foe—I could not make...