The following is transcribed from 'Army Life : A Privateís Reminiscences of the Civil War', by Theodore Gerrish. Theodore Gerrish was born in Houlton, Maine on June 19, 1844. He enlisted into the 20th Maine on July 21, 1862. Was wounded at the Wilderness and survived the war. Entered the Methodist ministry after the war. And died on February 9, 1923.

From 'Army Life' by Rev. Theodore Gerrish.
Chapter VIII.

Rappahannock Station.

The campaign of 1863 had closed, and once more the old army of the Potomac went into winter quarters. On the 4th of December our regiment encamped at Rappahanock Station, for the purpose of guarding the railroad bridge at that place. Our camp was on the crest of a hill upon the north bank of the river. The hill overlooked for a long distance the blue river that rolled swiftly at its base, the railroad bridge, a vast expanse of country, and the fortifications upon the opposite side. We were upon historic ground. The rebels had strongly fortified this position and it had been garrisoned by the brigades of Generals Hoke and Hayes. A detachment of eighty men from our regiment, under the command of Captain W. G. Morrill, had co-operated with a portion of the Sixth corps in its capture, on the 7th of the previous November. The assualt was one of the most brilliant and successful of the war. Maine was well represented by several regiments and in the little cemetery on the hillside we built a wooden monumnet and dedicated it to the memory of the brave soldiers of our State who fell in the gallant charge. In the trenches and among the rocks we buried the rebel dead, who fell in their brave defense of the position. When we returned and encamped, the breastworks were torn down, and upon the rocky surface of this elevation we leveled our parade ground, made our streets and built our tents. It was a beautiful place for an encampment, healthy from its elevated position and in picturesque in every sense of the word. Our tents, built of logs and covered with tent cloth, were large and quite comfortable. Good water was plenty, wood was easily obtained, the men were healthy, and this winterís experience was the most pleasant that we enjoyed while in the army. There was but little fatigue duty and only a small section of picket line to sustain, and a large portion of our time was devoted to such amusements as we could devise in camp. The principal feature in these were the practical, good-natured jokes we used to practice upon each other. In our company there were about thirty men, nearly all of whom were less than thirty years of age. As I recall the names of those brave fellows, and I think of the amusements of that winter, I am almost tempted to assert that it was the happiest period of my life. Many recruits came to us during that time, and of course they were proper subjects for practical jokes. One fellow from the backwoods of Maine reached the regiment late in the afternoon. He soon revealed to a number of the boys that his only fear in becoming a soldier was that he would not be able to stand on ìa picket post.î He felt that it would require a great deal of practice to do this in a skillful manner, and since he had decided to enlist, he had not had a momentís time to practice it. Of course the boys had a great deal of sympathy for him, and kindly promised to assist him, for which he was very thankful. They informed him how difficult a thing it was for them when they first began. They accompanied him to the lower end of the street, where a post some four feet in height and six inches in diameter was set upright in the ground, the upper end being sharpened nearly to a point. With a little assistance the recruit succeeded in reaching its sharpened top, and in the evening twilight, for nearly two long hours he managed to maintain his position, and recieved the compliments of his comrades. He then went to his tent, proud of the fact that he had mastered so difficult a problem in so brief a time.

Another recruit, fresh from the schools and refined society, but who had never seen much of the world, came to our company. The boys saw at a glance that he was a glorious subject for a practical joke, and anxiously waited for an opportunity. It soon came. The young man was very confidential, and before he had been with us a whole day revealed all his plans. He had enlisted, knowing that his education and polished manners would give him rapid promotion. Of course he would be a private but a few weeks, so he had brought an officerís uniform with him, and had the whole suit packed in his knapsack. Seeing that we were deeply interested in his plans, he asked if we could advise him in any way that would assist in his promotion; he would do anything to gain success in that line. Various things were spoken of by his advisers, which, if done, might aid him in his commendable ambition. One remarked that extravagance in the use of goverment stores was the great evil of the army, and when the officers noticed that a man was prudent, and looked out for the interests of the Goverment, he was always rapidly promoted. We all took the hint. Only the day before this conversation, fresh ammunition had been issued to our regiment, and that which we had carried so long having become worthless by exposure to air and moisture, was thrown away. The cartridges were scattered along the street and through our tents. ìYes, that is so,î continued another, ìnow, there are those cartridges; it is too bad to have them wasted, and I have no doubt the colonel would promote any man who would gather them up and carry them to his tent, but I wonít do it.î ìNeither will I,î said speaker number three, ìI enlisted to shoot rebels; I am perfectly willing to wade in blood, but I wonít do such work as that if I am never promoted.î After this patriotic declaration he yawned, and turned over in his berth as if he would sleep; but the bait had been swallowed. The recruit glided from the little group of soldiers, went to the cookhouse, borrowed two large camp kettles, and then through the tents and streets he went, until the kettles were nearly filled with cartridges, and he had all the load he could possibly carry. Then staggering along with a kettle in each hand, he walked to the colonelís tent. He passed the guard who was on duty there and did not halt until he had reached the dorrway. He gave a smart knock, with the assurace of one who is confident of recieving a warm welcome. One of the field officers answered the summons. The expectant recruit made known his business. The officer glanced down the street and saw the laughing soldiers. He took in the whole situation at a glance. There was a scowl, an oath, a vanishing officer, a door closing with a fearful slam, and Company H yelled and howled with delight. The sounds of merriment must have grated harshly upon the ears of the poor fellow who had been the victim. This episode crushed his expectations, and we never heard him utter a word of promotion again.

These jokes were not confined to each other, but the men in the ranks took great delight in practicing them upon the officers whom they did not like, when it could be done innocently. At one time a regiment in camp was living upon very poor rations. The bread was moldy, hard, and unfit to eat. There were no rations of meat, and as for the coffee and sugar, the grip of the quartermaster could be detected in every spoonful. There was a chaplain in the regiment who was suppossed to look after the interests of the men, especially if they were sick, but the boys thought that this one paid too much attention to the officers and too little to them, as he never came to their tents or spoke with them when he met them. He was a remarkably sleek and well fed looking individual. One day he, together with some officers from another regiment, passed through a company street just as the men were eating dinner. The chaplain had his hands behind him and wore a self-satisfied look. A wag by the name of Dick sat on the ground by his tent door, trying to eat the musty hard-tack. Assuming almost an idiotic look as the chaplain approached, he inquired very innocently, ìChaplain, will you be kind enough to tell me what the two capital letters, B.C., stand for, when they are printed together upon anything?î ìO, yes,î blandly answered the chaplain, raising his voice so loud that it would attract the attention of all the men in the street, ìit means before the birth of our saviour, previous to the beginning of the Christian era.î He proceeded to give quite a profound theological exposition of the matter, and then inquired, ìBut, my man, why did you ask so unusual a question?î ìO, nothin,î answered innocent Dick, ìonly we have seen it stamped on these sheets of hard tack, and were curious to know why it was there.î At this point the listeners all exploded with laughter, while the chaplain was that he was sold, and walked rapidly away.

But of all the ìshining lights,î or men possessing remarkable qualities, in Company H, it is safe to say that our company cook ranked all others. He is living now and if he reads these lines, I know he will forgive the descriptions I give of him, and also thank me for revelations here made that he never knew before. He is a short, thin, frail man, with one leg shorter than the other, and a longer one much more crooked than its mate. Of course he could not march in the ranks, and I think he never carried a rifle. But no man in the army of the Potomac could rival him in the art and science of cookery. Among mess pans, camp kettles, and dish cloths, Daniel shone peerless and alone. He was a generous, kind hearted man, and for the boys who went out with him when the regiment was mustered, he had a profound respect, and could never do too much for them. But like all old veterans, he had a great contempt for recruits, which he was always anxious to display. As I think of his kindness to me I almost feel condemned for the many jokes the other fellows played upon him. Like many other men in positions of trust, Daniel learned some crooked ways. He learned by observation that the longer he boiled the rations of fat portk, the more lard would rise to the surface of the water when it was cooled. He quickly took advantage of this discovery, and by purchasing flour at the sutlerís, soon built up quite a business in frying doughnuts and selling them to us at the rate of about ten cents apiece. We used to complain to him that the doughnut business sadly interfered with out rations of meat, but he always gave us to understand that he knew his own business. There were but a few of us who had any money to buy with, but we were all exceedingly fond of doughnuts, and many were the schemes we devised to come into possession of the coveted stores. One fellow would invite Daniel to his tent, to ask his advice upon some important matter, and he was never known to refuse a request of this nature. While he was thus occupied, some graceless scamps would enter the cookhouse, break open the well known box under the table, and bear away half a peck of the stolen luxuries. Soon after, we would see him coming from his tent, wrath pictured on every feature, and vengeance ringing in every step, to make known to us his loss. How deeply we would sympathize with him! Some one would chance to remember that he saw a recruit coming from the direction of the cookhouse a short time before. A hint enough, and upon their luckless heads he would pour the vials of his wrath. Then in the kindness of his heart he would bring forth the remainder of the doughnuts and divide them among his sympathizers as a reward for their honesty.

The last joke we played, however, was rather overdone, and completely destroyed this branch of the cookís business. It was pay day, the soldiers had lots of money, and the cook had planned for a rich harvest. The rations of pork had been so large that he did not think it wise to issue them all to the men. Round after round of pork had been laid carefully away. Of course the boys understood all about it. This day had been a busy one for Daniel, and as a result of his economy and industry he was in possession of two large camp kettles filled with liquid lard. He had placed them under the table to cool while two kettles of similiar size filled with water were sitting upon the floor of his cookhouse. This building was covered with cotton cloth; its walls were made of pine logs, pitchy and dry; the chimney was made of barrels, which were, of course, as dry as tinder. Morrison, Danielís most trusted friend, called at the cookhouse and informed Daniel that the sutler wished to see him a moment. The summons was quickly obeyed. When his form vanished through the tents, the barrels were set on fire and the kettles of lard exchanged positions with the kettles of water. Soon spiral tongues of flame are seen encircling the sooty barrels. Some one cries fire! The cry is caught up, and fire! Fire! Fire! Resounds along the line. ìCompany Hís cookhouse is on fire!î yells a hundred men. At a moment we see Daniel advancing on the double quick; never before had those illy mated legs done such uniform service. Breathless and with flushed face he crossed the doorsill of that establishment where he alone was king. Seizing what he supposed was a kettle of water, he hurled it upon the greedy flames, and without waiting to notice the result, the contents of kettle number two followed those of number one. A black flame sprang fifty feet into the air, and in a moment the whole cookhouse was a mass of fire. It was with much difficulty that we prevented the flames from spreading through the whole encampment. Poor Daniel was completely demoralized. He sat down by the smoking ruins of his home and wept. A few of us gathered around him and sympathized with him over the fatal mistake he made in putting away the water instead of the lard. To our suprise he shook his head as if he did not believe our theory of the disaster. Lieut. Bickford, commanding the company, came down to where we were talking, and with a frown on his face and a smile of mirth twinkling in his eyes, asked us the cause of the fire. Morrison and others gave various theories in relation to it. But unfortunately for us, the lieutenant was an old soldier, and had known us for some time. As he turned away he remarked, ìMorrison, you and Gerrish and Tarbell and Gilmore must rebuild that cookhouse immediately.î There was no appeal from this decision, and for two long days we toiled in the work of rebuilding. Daniel did not exult over us in our misfortune; but there was a look of satisfaction upon his face as he took charge of the building squad, to which position he had been assigned by the lieutenant commanding.

from 'Army Life : A Privateís Reminiscences of the Civil War' [Hoyt, Fogg & Donham, Portland, Maine, 1882]

By Rev. Theodore Gerrish