In the grayed gloaming of a

September afternoon in 1865, the

tawny foothills of Camp Lacey,

one mile southwest of Doyles-

town, acquired a bizarre nature.

Five years before, the same

grounds had been a site of en-

campment for more than one

thousand men of the 104th Penn-

sylvania Regiment.

It had rung with the cries of

soldiers preparing for war— sol-

diers who had sung before many

campfires grotesque in the chill

of September nights.

Cruel Task Done

General W.W.H. Davis was

home now and his cruel task was

done.  He was home in the fields

of Camp Lacey as he stepped

lightly through its bracken,

brushing it aside with the deft

motion of a strong, right hand un-

damaged by war.

“What is war?” he murmured

aloud.  “Do only the ones who die

know what it is?”

It was unusually cold for early

September.  The short, bearded

man pushed, the collar of his

jacket to his solemn face.

He found a quiet spot in a

pocket of ground near the base

of a steep hill and sat down,

careful not to put too much

strain on his left arm held high

by a sling.

That arm, he reflected, as in-

jured at John’s Island.

Reminisces

“John’s Island,” he said, “cer-

tainly not the worst battle of the

Civil War.  I’d say Fair Oaks

was.

“Yes, Fair Oaks.  That was

the worst one.”

Fair Oaks was the worst bat-

tle.  But, how many had there

been altogether?  How many kill-

ed and wounded?  How many

times had General Davis wielded

a pistol and sounded the call to

arms?  How many men in pain? 

How Many retreats?  How many

victories?

On August 21, 1861, after his

return home for the campaign

on the Potomac, W.W.H.

Davis was authorized by the Sec-

retary of War to raise a regiment

of infantry and a six-gun battery

to serve for three years during

the Civil War.

Appeal to Young Men

I was authorized to form a

camp in Doylestown,” Davis ex-

plained, “and I issued an appeal

to the young men to rally around

the flag.  They responded quickly,

“We held a meeting at the

court house on August 30 and be-

fore its adjournment, forty had

volunteered.  Many of these were

from young men who had al-

ready served under me for three

months.

“They had a practical know-

ledge of a soldier’s duties.”

Recruiting the regiment cre-

ated considerable excite-

ment throughout the county.  Citi

zens of all parties helped and

various meetings were called to

recruit men.

The place selected for the camp

was the exhibition ground, one

mile southwest of Doylestown.  It

was named Camp Lacey, in hon-

or of the gallant brigadier gen-

eral John Lacey, of Bucks

County, of the Revolutionary Ar-

my.

Tents Pitched

Tents were pitched for three

hundred men on the 14th of Sep-

tember,” Davis said, “and by the

17th there were enough to accom-

odate the whole regiment.

“The encampment was laid out

with ease, but before the arrival

of arms from the government,

guard duty was done with clubs.”

Recruits poured in rapidly after

the camp was established, ac-

cording to Davis.  By September

24, there were six hundred men

present.

“And before the month was fin-

ished,” he noted, “ten companies

were in camp.”

The regiment was supplied with

flour from the borough mill, the

bread baked at a local bakery

and beef was furnished from

stores in Philadelphia.

Instruction

A strict and pretty thorough

system of instruction was now

established in camp.  The com-

missioned officers, were formed

into a squad and drilled two

hours in the morning, who in

turn drilled their non-commission-

ed officers.  And, the latter drilled

the privates in squads of eight or

twelve.

The chaplain held religious ser-

vices in camp daily and on Sun-

day there was preaching in morn-

ing and afternoon.

“Our numbers increased every

day,” said Davis.  “On October 25

the strength was a thousand and

seventy.

“During that month, I ap-

pointed my staff and field offi-

cers.”

They included, John W. Nields,

lieutenant colonel; John M.

Gries, major and Lieutenant

Thomas H. Hart, adjutant.

James D. Henrie, a lieutenant

in the first company recruited,

was appointed quartermaster;

William R. Gries, pastor of Saint

Paul’s Episcopal Church, Doyles-

town accepted the post of chap-

lain.  Doctors William Allen Peck

and William T. Robinson of Mont-

gomery County, were assigned

as surgeon and assistant sur-

geon.

“I had Edmund A. Wallazz, of

Philadelphia, for sergeant

major,” Davis recalled, and

with Robert Holmes, quar-

termaster, James M. Rogers for

sergeant and John Hargrave and

Joseph Winner for principal mu-

sicians, the organization of my

staff was complete.”

Trumpets Sound

And Men Stir

The first noise was the trumpet

—then, the men stirring in the

dank mist of early morning.

It was 3:30 a.m. and the

yawning, brave men, awakened

from a deep sleep by the shrill

morning call, roused themselves

to their individual tasks.

The flaps of tents were opened

slowly.  The rattle of breakfast

utensils was heard.  The mist

blanketed the field as the men

wearily pushed through it.  Most

of them wore no shirts.

The 6th of November, 1861, was

an eventful day in the lives of the

untried soldier of Camp Lacey.

By sunrise, the tents were

struck and the baggage ready to

be hauled down to the station.

Cars Ready.

Twenty-five railroad cars lined

the tracks at the Reading Sta-

tion to receive the troops.  A bel-

lowing crowd pushed near the

scene.  Many had come from the

surrounding country to bid fare-

well to their loved ones.

A little after 7 o’clock, the mas-

sive locomotive Cheltenham

roared off amid the sound of a

hundred cheers.

On to Philadelphia—then Wash-

ington—then the unknown.

“The regiment was saluted with

shouts of patriotism at every sta-

tion, crossroad and farmhouse on

the line between Doylestown and

Philadelphia.  These were an-

swered by returning cheers from

the men and music by the band,”

Davis said.

“When we arrived in Philadel-

phia, “the men marched down

Fourth St. to have supper at the

Volunteer Refreshment Saloon.”

The ladies, Davis recalled,

waved their handkerchiefs and

smiled down their greetings from

the windows above.

Troops Move Out

In the evening, when a cold

rain spattered the area, the troops

moved out for Washington.

“We got there after a long

ride,” noted Davis, “and immedi-

ately reported to general Casey,

who received all new troops and

assigned them to a camping

ground.

“It was nearly sundown when

I got an order to march the re-

giment to Kalorama Heights, on

the western border of the city and

go into camp.

“A guide was sent to point out

the way.”

The return of daylight enabled

the soldiers to determine their

location—just back of George-

town and before the war, one of

the loveliest spots in the vicinity

of Washington.

The men arose, stiffened and

chilled by the cold.

Prepare For Combat

But, if the 104th Regiment suf-

fered form the sharp cold, so did

almost two hundred thousand

men.  Washington was one vast

camp preparing for combat.

Washington had changed.  It had

been usurped by the state of war. 

Warlike preparations were seen

everywhere.

“Tents were pitched on all the

plains and hill-sides and the

troops were seen drilling on every left

hand,” Davis observed.  “It was

not like the good old times of

peace.

“It was a different Washington

—a somber Washington.”

A grand review of the army of

the Potomac was held on the Vir-

ginia side of the river near Wash-

ington on November 20.

Davis, temporarily attached to

the staff of the division com-

mander, formed part of the suite

of the General in Chief.

General McClellan

He watched the review from his

horse.  Next to him, General Mc-

Clellan observed the pomp and

circumstance of war, patient and

unmoved.

The winter passed quietly in

Washington for the troops.  In the

beginning of December, both

small pox and typhoid fever made

their appearance.

A sudden change in weather

prevented the diseases from

spreading to any great extent.

But, one death was recorded dur-

ing an unusually mild season.

Private Tunis K. Smith, of

Company C, died of small-pox.

Ship Aground

More Misery

“The constitution, Hah!  That

poor boat ran aground two

times,” Davis recalled.  He laugh-

ed softly to himself and shifted

the weight of his body to his

left side.

He looked for dry grass, but

found none.

“I’m damp now,” he said, “but

not as damp as when we were

ready to leave on the Constitu-

tion for Fortress Monroe.”

The regiment was ready for the

ship —but the ship wasn’t ready

for them.

Downpour

They stood in the drenching

downpour, in mud shoe-top deep,

for hours.

“We’re aground,” the ship’s

captain called from the deck, 

“We can’t take the 104th with

us.”

The steamer was pronounced

top-heavy by the captain and the

104th was disembarked and plac-

ed on another ship, the state of

Main……

Hours before, a division of four-

teen regiments (twelve thousand

men) received an order to march

in the morning.

March 9, 1861:

The training of winter in Wash-

ington and now the purgatory of

war….now the men would show,

if anything, what they had learn-

ed…..

“The men received the order

with great satisfaction,” Davis

noted.  “The parade ground rang 

with their shouts and boisterous

mirth, which they kept us after

it was dark, with the addition of

bon-fires.

Early Reveille

“The reveille sounded a little

earlier than usual in the morn-

ing and before the hour, the bri-

gade was under arms.”

The soldiers bolted their morn-

ing meal and prepared to march.

They passed fortifications outside

of Washington  and continued

through Fourteenth St. to the

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