The preface of this regimental history reveals its unusual origin: a private memoir written shortly after the war by a member of Company A, later expanded by a committee of the 'Co. A Associates' for publication in 1882. The author, Charles Eustis Hubbard, draws on his own notes and the collective memory of his comrades, aiming to preserve 'the leading incidents of his army experiences' rather than produce an official record. The narrative voice is that of a participant, not a historian, and the text is punctuated by the specific, often wry observations of a soldier who endured the same mud, marches, and makeshift quarters as his fellows.
A Private Memoir Becomes a Regimental Record
The book's genesis is unusual: it began as a private account written by a Company A member 'for his own private gratification' shortly after mustering out. Only later, at a meeting of the 'Co. A Associates' in January of an unspecified year, was it voted to publish a history with illustrations. The committee, composed of fellow soldiers, expanded the original manuscript into the present volume. This backstory explains the text's intimate, anecdotal tone—it is a veteran's recollection, not a staff officer's report. The preface thanks Colonel Edward W. Kinsley, a civilian friend who 'played so important a part' in the regiment's story, and notes that his 'cheery presence' at reunions provided 'a bit of the inner history of the dark days in '62 and '63.' The reader should expect a narrative shaped by personal memory and the bonds of a company association, not a comprehensive strategic overview.
The Mud and Jokes of the Trenton Expedition
One of the most vivid passages describes a grueling march during the expedition to Trenton. The author notes that 'without exception, the hardest day in all our campaign' was also 'the merriest,' because 'in the army, the harder the work, and the more dismal the circumstances, the better humor the men will be in.' The march covered twenty-one miles in seven hours on 'the muddiest road it has ever been our lot to see.' The men returned without having fired a shot or lost a man. This episode illustrates the book's recurring theme: the soldiers' ability to find humor in misery. The author's voice is wry and self-aware, and he often pauses to remark on the paradoxes of army life. The reader should note how such set-pieces—the long march, the return to camp, the rumors of better quarters—structure the narrative and convey the texture of the campaign.
Quarters in Newbern: A Captured City's Domestic Details
When the regiment moved to Newbern in late 1862, Company A was assigned a house on Pollock Street, described as 'one of the prettiest places in the town.' The building had flower gardens, fruit trees, and a cook-house, but was 'wholly destitute of furniture.' The men improvised bunks in every room, with seventeen occupants in the parlor alone. The author notes that the house still bore the name 'Pierce' on the door, and he offers mock thanks to the absent owner for 'the noble manner in which he retired to the country and generously yielded up his house and grounds, rent free, to the use of the Yankee soldiery.' This blend of precise detail and dry humor is characteristic. The passage also situates the regiment within the larger occupation: across the street stood the former headquarters of 'General Hill, the rebel commander.' The reader gains a sense of how the soldiers made a home in a captured city, adapting civilian spaces to military life.
The Cadet Regiment's Voice: Between Formality and Familiarity
The narrative oscillates between formal regimental history and the casual tone of a company reunion. The author refers to the regiment as 'the 45th Mass., Colonel Codman commanding,' but also uses the first-person plural 'we' and addresses the reader as a fellow veteran. The text includes the full text of orders and official designations, yet it also recounts jokes, rumors, and the men's private opinions. This dual voice is a product of the book's dual purpose: to preserve the official record for posterity and to entertain the 'Co. A Associates' at their annual reunions. The reader should be alert to shifts in register—from the dry recitation of dates and distances to the wry asides about 'donkey-carts' and 'the best possible spirits.' The book is as much a memento for those who were there as it is a historical document for later readers.
This edition preserves the original 1882 text and illustrations by Frank H. Shapleigh, a fellow veteran. Readers should approach it as a primary source: a firsthand account filtered through the lens of a regimental association, rich in specific detail but necessarily partial. The narrative's strength lies in its evocation of the soldiers' daily experience—the mud, the bunks, the rumors, and the jokes—rather than in strategic analysis. For a fuller picture of the 45th's campaign, consult official records or other regimental histories; for the texture of a soldier's life, this account is invaluable.
There’s something about the Cadet Regiment’s quiet record of marches and shared tents that lingers, the way old loyalties do. It reminded me of David Morgan, the Welsh Jacobite a contribution to the history of Jacobitism in Wales — Edition Insights, another voice from a lost cause, clinging to its own small certainties. Both feel less like grand history and more like letters someone kept.