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Menges Family HistoryPersonal Papers of Jacob Robenalt Menges
I, Jacob R. Menges, the subject of this sketch, was born near the village of Turbotville, PA, June 27, 1840, being the son of Samuel and Katherine Robenalt Menges, and the youngest of a family of seven brothers and two sisters. My boyhood and early life was spent on my father's farm which consisted of about 800 acres. In March 1861 my mother died. On August 18, 1861, I, with a cousin John Stahl, was sent to Turbotville to the store of William Savage to buy axes. I had bought and paid for my axe, when an acquaintance, John Shannon entered the store. The three months men, who had responded to the first call for volunteers, and whose term had expired, were beginning to return home and Shannon was acting as a recruiting officer for Capt. Prysons Co. of the Seventh Pennsylvania Cavalry. Shannon asked me if I did not want to enlist in his company for three years and without deliberation I signed the papers and turning to Mr. Savage asked him to keep the axe until I returned. He placed it on the shelf and said, "It will stay until you call for it." Knowing my father and brothers would seriously oppose my action I did not dare return home but sent word by Stahl and accompanied Shannon to the hotel to spend the night. Shortly after retiring my Uncle Peter and brothers Benjamin and Isaac came to call for me. At first I refused to rise, knowing their mission, but after a time dressed and went down to meet them. As I supposed they tried to dissuade me from my plans but finally I said, "I have signed and I will go no matter what happens," so they sadly took their way home. The next morning my brother John came with a wagon and a rope and promised to bring me home by force if necessary. Fortunately when he arrived I was already on my way to Weistown or there would have been a lively tussle as I should not have submitted unless overpowered. Early next morning Shannon took me with thirteen others to Weistown where the company was being formed, where we found about seventy-five men. Captain Pryson had promised to make Shannon 1st Lieutenant, but refused on account of his failing to obtain the requisite number of men and offered to make him first Sergeant instead. Shannon would not agree to this and next day took his men to Philadelphia where he turned us over to Colonel Weis who was organizing the Keystone regiment of Pennsylvania volunteers. We afterward understood that Shannon received $21.00 each for us from Colonel Weis. We were quartered in the old Pennsylvania bank building and were there sworn into state service but not assigned to any particular command. We were kept in Philadelphia one day and taken to Camp Badger near Germantown where Company A of the Keystone regiment lay with its full quota of men. Our squad was to form the nucleus of Company B. Company A was soon withdrawn and we were left in a tent without commissioned officers and could draw no rations. When our food was gone, Shannon took us back to Philadelphia where he left us to enlist in Goslins Zouaves. While roaming about we fell in with a recruiting officer to whom we told our story and who sent us to Harrisburg, where, on September 24, 1861, I succeeded in being enlisted in Company D, Eleventh Pennsylvania Volunteers under Captain John Knox and Colonel Coulter for three years or during the war. We were soon after taken to Annapolis, Maryland where during the winter of 1861-1862 we did duty as provost guard in the navy yard. We were quartered in St. John's College. The duty here was very pleasant and we mingled with the townspeople who were friendly to the soldiers. While at Annapolis an accident occurred which might have caused me some trouble. The orders were that the pickets should always remove the caps from the guns at the gate of the college where we were quartered. One morning on coming in from picket duty I uncapped my gun as usual and instead of throwing the cap away, put it in my cap box. I went in, laid the gun on the floor beside my bunk and went down to my breakfast. Soon one of the boys came down and said, "You will catch it now, someone kicked the hammer of your gun and it went off and blew the heads out of the drummers drum." I was arrested and taken before the Colonel who reprimanded me for not obeying orders. I said, "Colonel, when my comrade and I reached the gate we removed our caps as usual." He said, "What did you do with the cap?" "Put it in my cap box." He said, "Go bring your cap box." I brought the box and the Colonel emptied the caps on the table and after examining them he put them back and said, "You are right, go back to your quarters, they have no business kicking around the guns." The percussion of the cap had stuck to the nipple of the gun and as soon as he found the cap without percussion he knew I told the truth, otherwise I would have been sent to the guard house besides being compelled to pay for the drum. In early spring, Burnside's expedition left Annapolis and we expected to go with them, but the people of the city objected so strongly to our being replaced by a strange regiment that we were left behind. In the spring of 1862 we left Annapolis for White Plains, Virginia, where we did guard duty for about two months, leaving there to join the second brigade, second division of the First Corps under General McDowell. The army was concentrated near Alexandria and McDowell's Corps were left there during the campaign in the peninsula. Shortly afterward we were taken to Fredricksburg where we were retained by the President's orders until sent up the Shenandoah Valley to support General Banks who was threatened by Stonewall Jackson. On this march we touched Alexandria again where the sick and wounded were left and I among them on account of rheumatism. I remained in the hospital three weeks when, against the doctors orders, I left to rejoin my regiment. Our regiment took no part in the operation in the valley and were returned to Fredrecksburg. At the close of June, General Pope took command of the Army of the Potomac formed of the corps of McDowell, Banks and Fremont and took the field to prevent Jackson from passing through Thoroughfare Gap to Manassas and so cut off Pope's communication with Washington. At Thoroughfare Gap we met the enemy for the first time under fire. We lost our lieutenant and six or eight men. After the sharp actions at Chantilly and Manassas which took place shortly after, the men who had been so impatient to see real war began to take a more serious view of the undertaking. At Manassas, where our brigade was driven back in disorder, I found myself on the bank of Bull Run Creek and was debating whether to wade or find an easier crossing. Just then a shell struck the ground a few feet behind and exploded showering me with earth. I hesitated no longer, but jumped into the middle of the creek and up to my middle in water, losing my gun. At nightfall I arrived at Centerville and after picking up another gun from the side of a soldier I found sleeping, laid down in the mud and rain until morning, when I succeeded in finding my company. One of our boys called "Dutchy Boweres", supposedly lost came straggling in and the Captain said, "Why Dutchy, where have you been?" He said, "Captain, I have skirmished all over hell and came out at Centerville." The army, after reorganizing at Arlington Heights, again met the enemy at Antietam on September 17, 1862, and again at Fredricksburg December 11-14, 1862, where we supported the 50th Engineers while laying the pontoon bridge across the river. After this disastrous defeat, General Reynolds became our Corps commander and General Hooker took command of the Army of the Potomac and began the fourth campaign against Richmond. While in the enemy's country considerable foraging was done. On the march near Fredricksburg our Colonel came riding by and said, "Boys, there is a drove of hogs over that hill and I don't want to see you touch one of them." He was hardly out of sight before a great squealing could be heard and that night there was plenty of fresh pork and you may be sure the Colonel had his share. On another occasion, my tent mate, James Kemmery and I saw a fine turkey gobbler near a house and planned how it might be secured. I, at last, decided to buy it, but the lady we found in charge refused to sell. While we were arguing, Kemmery shot the turkey. I said, "Now see what that rascal has done?" "If I get the turkey now, will you sell him?" She said, "Yes" so I started after my comrade who had started off with the turkey, but strange to relate I did not overtake him until we were safely out of sight of the house. The winter of 1862-1863 was spent on Hog Back Ridge near Falmouth about a mile from Belle Plain Landing, Virginia, where the army was in winter quarters. We built log huts with chimneys and were very comfortable. Here Kemmery secured a white bantam rooster and we built a roost for him in a corner of our cabin. At four o'clock every morning the rooster would begin to crow and the boys all along the line would join in until there would be no more sleeping. The Colonel said he would give ten dollars to find that "dammed rooster." He never discovered his whereabouts. Our next battle was Chancellorsville on May 1, 1863, where we saw our share of bloody work, but were forced back to the north bank of the Rappahannock River. Lee thought he had our army so beaten that he could now safely attempt his second invasion of the north and seizing the passes of the Blue Ridge Mountains, commenced a forced march north, under cover of the hills. When Hooker arrived at Frederick, Maryland, he was superseded by General Meade. Now ensued a race between the two armies on parallel lines. We were compelled to march over hot, dry plains where water was very scarce and there was great suffering in our ranks, while the Rebels in the edge of the mountains had plenty of shade and water. On this march, I suffered a sunstroke from which I never fully recovered, but kept up with my regiment. Probably no one knows less about the maneuvers of troops and the general plan of a battle than the men actually engaged and so many years have elapsed that I have not attempted to describe in detail any of the sixteen major engagements in which I fought. In the battle of Gettysburg, however, which is conceded to be the decisive battle of the war, I will try to describe the movements of my division only. We arrived in the vicinity of Gettysburg over the Baltimore Pike about 2 o'clock in the afternoon of July 1, 1863. The armies there were already engaged and we formed a line of battle along the road and advanced toward the village where the fighting was already going on. On arriving at the top of Seminary Ridge, we met the enemy and lay down while the bullets cut off the timothy heads above our backs. I here fired fourteen rounds when the white flags went up in front of us and we rushed down the hill and captured the entire regiment and took them back of our lines to Little Round Top where we remained during that night. On the next morning we were marched to the cemetery and laid there until afternoon when we were taken around the cemetery and placed behind the stone wall just outside the cemetery and facing Seminary Ridge where we laid that night and until about 3 o'clock on the afternoon of the third day. During this time we were not engaged, although there was severe fighting on both sides. On the afternoon of the third we saw the rebels in three lines of battle coming down the hill and through the valley in front. They were in plain sight for nearly a mile and made a sight to stir ones blood as they moved steadily forward in splendid order straight toward our position. Our Colonel walked up and down our lines saying, "Now boys, you are on your own ground, show them what you can do, but don't a man fire until I give the word." When they were about 200 feet away we got the order "Fire" and the first line of the enemy seemed to disappear. A battery of big guns just behind us opened, throwing grape and canister over our heads and the second line melted away and the third broke and ran back. This was the end of the battle for having been repulsed at other points along our lines as well, they gave up the attempt to break through and that night Lee withdrew his broken and discouraged army. That night I was detailed for picket duty and in passing over the field of battle, stumbled over the dead and wounded at almost every step. Our army was too exhausted to pursue the enemy and for three days we had nothing warm to eat or drink. The seven months following Gettysburg were consumed in maneuvering by both armies. Lee slowly retreating and the Union leaders trying to force him into position where a decisive battle could be fought. Several small battles occurred in which our brigade took part at Manassas Gap, Culpepper Court House, Bristow Station and Mine Run and December 1, 1863 found me at Cedar Mountain, Virginia, where I was discharged for the purposes of re-enlisting on January 1, 1964 as veteran volunteer for three years in the same regiment and company. On February 13, 1864, I went home on furlough and remained until April 1, when I left to rejoin the regiment at Culpepper, Virginia. Grant had meanwhile been made commander-in-chief and the battles of the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, Mechanicsville and Petersburg followed during the next four months. In all of these, our regiment was actively engaged. We were among the first pickets placed before the forts of Petersburg where we were obliged to build breastworks with our tin plates, and where about a week later we were withdrawn to support the cavalry. On the morning the mine exploded under the rebel fort, I was lying on my bunk and Kemmery was getting breakfast. Although we were a mile away the shock shook the earth and threw me six inches into the air off my bunk. We were soon after detailed to guard the Weldon Railway and on August 19, 1864, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, I was taken prisoner. Kemmery and I were on picket duty about half mile in front of our breastworks, when a skirmish line of the enemy drove us in. We were just congratulating ourselves on regaining the breastworks in safety when the rebels, who had out-flanked us began to shell us from the rear so sharply that the whole woods were full of bursting shells and falling limbs. I ran through the woods toward the rear, where I supposed our forces lay, when a rebel stepped from behind a tree and ordered me to drop my gun. As his bayonet was almost touching my breast, I didn't stop to argue the matter a second, and in a few minutes found my self in company of several hundred of my fellows who had met a similar fate. Kemmery who had run farther toward the left escaped as our men had driven the enemy back in that direction before he reached them. We did not meet again for several months and neither knew what had befallen the other. We were taken behind the forts at Petersburg and kept there that night, and the next morning were sent by rail to Libby Prison at Richmond, where we remained about twenty-four hours. Here we were told that if we gave up our money and registered on our discharge it would be returned to us. Those who did not comply were searched and their money taken. I had a $2.00 and a $5.00 bill. The latter I wrapped in a chew of tobacco and put in my mouth, the $2.00 bill I folded and pushed into the counter of my shoe. The rebels got neither and I believe the $2.00 bill saved my life, for with it I bought two pods of red pepper which I steeped, a small piece at a time in my drinking water while in prison and so escaped the dysentery which caused the death of so many of our boys. From Libby we went to Belle Island where we remained about a month and from there to Salisbury, North Carolina and placed in the prison (Andersonville), which consisted of about eight acres surrounded by a board fence, ten feet high, with a dead line drawn around the inside ten feet from the fence. Around the outside of the fence ran a platform patrolled by armed guards. The only shelter was a few Sibley tents and shallow dugout covered by brush, pieces of blanket and anything that could be found. In rainy weather the mud was ankle deep over the entire enclosure. There were seven shallow wells from which the water had to be dipped with our tin cups, and at all hours of the day and night these wells were surrounded by a crowd of thirsty men who kept them literally dipped dry. Water to bathe in was unknown whether for our clothing or our persons and our bodies were soon covered with skin diseases and our clothing covered with vermin. At one time fourteen thousand men were crowded into this small space and over seven thousand were paroled at the time the prison was abandoned. For fuel we used old railroad ties from outside the stockade and the amount we were allowed, was what one man could carry at once. The prison conditions were terrible, to say the least. The food was scarcely nothing, in fact the South had no food to give to us. The water is what we needed so much. One evening, a group of us men that were Christians, it really was rather hard to be a good soldier and a Christian, but we decided to kneel in prayer, asking God to in some way make it possible to get more water. Strange as it may sound, a terrific thunderstorm came up that night and the wind uprooted a big tree within the prison fence and the hole at once began to fill with water and from then on, there was a fair amount for everyone. I became so weak from starvation, that I had to walk with two canes and then my bunkmate became ill, too ill to eat so he insisted I eat what he couldn't. After two weeks illness, he died. We took him to the dead house at night, and I kept answering to his name for his food until they discovered, but by that time I was able to walk without canes. As there were thousands starving and dying, they decided to exchange the North soldiers for the South, man for man, and I was one of the lucky men to be chosen. On returning to our ranks, I was so weak that the officer in charge gave me a months furlough to go home. While I was home the word came that President Lincoln was assassinated. I only returned long enough to get my discharge papers. While in service, the roar of guns and cannons together with the unsanitary conditions, I became very deaf and one day while home on furlough, while walking through the fields with my brothers, I was startled by a shot, only to find I had regained my hearing. On one of the marches our Company had to travel miles and miles and we were very tired and hungry. As we stopped to rest in a small town, I asked the officer if I could go in one of the homes and buy some food. He asked me if I had money to pay for it and upon finding I did have money, allowed me to go in. I rapped and a man came to the door and when I asked to buy some food just anything would do, he said, "We have nothing for you." I saw a table all set for two people, even coffee poured, so I told him it was on the table and I was willing to pay for it. He refused the second time, so I stepped in the kitchen, set my gun beside me and ate everything that there was on that table. The man stood in one corner and his wife in the other. I got up, thanked them and walked out. When I got to the gate the officer asked me if I had anything to eat. I said yes, but I didn't pay for it and he asked why was that. I explained it all and he said he would have done the same thing himself. But on another march we halted to rest in front of a lovely home and soon tray after tray of hot coffee and cookies were brought out, so there were some real mothers in the South, never-the-less. In speaking about Gettysburg, while in camp there, we had as our mascot, a little dog named Sally. Every man, regardless of regiment or company was firm friend of Sally's, and today on the battlefield at Gettysburg there is a monument erected in her memory. It has her name on it and her image as nearly like her as could be made. We had many sad and varied experiences, but one of the hardest I had, was walking while on picket duty among the dead, dying and wounded after the battle of Gettysburg. Some were swearing, some groaning and some praying. One southerner said something as I passed, I paused and asked what he said, and he asked me for water. Even though he was my enemy, I gave him all I had in my canteen. I am sure he didn't have long to live. During my three years and nine months, I saw a lot of misery, but not a bullet touched my body. I had holes shot in my hat, several through my canteen and that is close and some through my coattail. In one battle a volley came over and the shells killed the man directly in front of me, the man to my left and the man to my right. Yes, I was only a young man and was frightened, but just had to keep on fighting. Just a word about my comrade, Kemmery. We went all through the war together except for the six months I spent in prison. He was one of the best soldiers the North ever had. They never asked for a volunteer, but that he wouldn't be the first to raise his hand and say Aye, Aye Officer. There was a poor unfortunate boy in our company and he just couldn't keep awake. Of course if one falls asleep on picket duty it means he will be shot at sunrise. We had found him asleep on a couple occasions, so one night I sneaked up and took his gun and then woke him up. He was scared to death and cried like a child. From then on Kemmery and I took turns and never let him go on picket duty again. Major battles in which Jacob. R. Menges Fought as a corporal in the First Division, Second Brigade: Thoroughfare Gap - August 26 1862 |
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