Leander Otis Merriam was a sergeant-major in the 31st Maine’s Co. F. He had been a student in Exeter, Maine, preparing to enter college, when he heard about Fort Sumter and Lincoln’s call for 75,000 men to put down the rebellion. He considered enlisting but Maine’s regiments filled up quickly and, in any event, he preferred to get a college education first. In the winter of 1863-4 he was still a civilian, teaching school in the eastern Maine town of Buxton during his winter break from Bowdoin College. He knew the spring would bring a new campaign and, rather than return to school, he decided to “chip in and add one more to the Union Army.” He returned home and told his parents of his decision. His father supported it, and so did his mother, albeit reluctantly. By early March Merriam was in Augusta as a soldier in the 31st Maine and he later became the sergeant major of Co. F.
In this account he writes about an incident—amusing perhaps only in retrospect—that happened to him while the Army of the Potomac was hunkered down at Cold Harbor in the days after the futile attack of June 3, 1864. The adjutant Merriam writes about was William B. Allyn. He was from a good family in Belfast and Merriam thought he was something of a snob. “He was a young fellow of 25, probably, of good form, dark hair, a small dark mustache, waxed to give him the real military style…. He wore a dandy uniform, was very much ‘stuck on himself’, to use the modern slang, and it was a treat to see him form the regiment for dress parade after the first of May.”
Allyn had already seen plenty of action. After enlisting as a private in the infantry, he received a commission as a lieutenant in the 6th Massachusetts Battery and fought with it at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where he was wounded and had two horses shot out from under him. His health suffered in the south, and Allyn returned to Maine and re-enlisted in the 31st Maine. Merriam was wrong about his age: Allyn was only 19 when he enlisted and 22 when he joined the 31st Maine.
Simon Griffin was the commander of the 31st Maine’s brigade in Robert Potter’s IX Corps division. Balding, with a long beard and pouchy eyes, Griffin had earned a reputation as a fighter while serving in Mississippi and Tennessee before receiving command of his brigade. Wrote Houston in his history of the 32nd Maine, “During his service, General Griffin took part in twenty-two battles, and in numerous minor engagements. He had two horses killed, and five wounded under him. And from first to last, whenever his men were ordered to go under fire, he went with them. Yet he never received a wound, and was never absent from his command on account of illness.”
This is Merriam’s account of his quick, non-voluntary visit to Griffin.
It was at this place that I made a very informal call on Gen. Griffin at his headquarters. As I have already stated, these headquarters were located in the open field behind the ravine in our rear. They were protected from the frequent shelling of the rebel batteries by earthworks some eight or ten feet high thrown up all around their tents. We had held this point several days and had got our entrenchments so strong that we felt quite at ease. One beautiful day, after I had finished my regular work for the morning, and the Adj. not having put in an appearance to find more for me to do, I had stretched myself out behind the line to chat with the boys, read any papers we might get hold of and perhaps get a little extra nap. The rebel pickets and sharpshooters were throwing away their usual quantity of lead over our heads, to which we paid no attention whatever, while one or two batteries, having the range to a nicety, were raising the dust about the brigade headquarters, which did not trouble us in the least, as we were not in the range.
Just then the Adjt. showed up and it was evident that he had not recovered from his last spree and had been trying to banish his headache by some more of the same. He had a paper in his hand which he held out to me and snapped out, “Sergt., take this to headquarters.” I knew what the paper was, only an ordinary statement of some kind that I had made myself, and which would not be missed if it did not go for a week. I ventured to call his attention to the way in which the batteries were raking down the field around the headquarters and to suggest that it might be well to wait for a few minutes when perhaps their fire would slacken, but the drunken fool was ugly, and evidently thought me the safest person on whom to vent his feelings. So he only growled out, “go now”, turned on his heel and stalked back to his tent. There was no help for it and I struck down into the ravine, but am free to confess that I went very slowly after getting out of sight of the Adjt. Our cooks had made their quarters in the lowest part of the ravine, as the safest place they could find and I lingered there as long as I dared to, hoping the batteries would slow up. Then I walked very slowly up to the edge of the field and stopped to take in the situation. Perhaps two hundred feet from me were the earthworks which sheltered Gen. Griffin and his staff; a little distance, but an awfully long one under the circumstances. The roar of the guns, the rush of the solid shot and the explosion of the shells in that two hundred feet were not calculated to quiet my nerves, and the sight of a single mounted officer flying across, his horse spurred to his best speed and the man himself lying down as close as he could get on the horse’s neck and hanging on for dear life, didn’t help matters any for me.
But if I waited here very long to consider the matter I might be wanted to someone higher than the Adjt., in the regiment and be asked to explain the long time that it took me to go so short a distance. I was not troubled to buy any equipments, everything of that kind having been left at my quarters, so tightening my belt and drawing a long breath I shot out of the cover of the woods. Never before or since have I been able to cover that distance in so short a time. I did not stop to find the proper entrance or to send in my card, but putting both hands on the top of the nearest point in the intrenchments that I could reach, I went over in a style that did credit to my training in the gym at Bowdoin. I landed fairly in front and within five or six feet of the General commanding the Second Brigade, who was keeping himself safely undercover. As I straightened myself up and raised my hand to salute him, he asked somewhat crustily what I was there for. Replying that I was sent there, I handed to him the valuable paper I had brought. It would have gratified me very much if he had asked who sent me, but he probably had more important things to think of, so just glancing at the paper he handed it to the Adjt. Gen., who read it and only said, “All right Sergt.”, which of course dismissed me. I should have appreciated highly an invitation to hob nob with the General till the batteries let up on their little game, but as he didn’t seem to think of it, there was nothing left for me but to get back to my business. Saluting the Gen. and his Adjt. I left, this time by the proper way, and started back. For a moment there was a slackening of the fire which I approved to the utmost and when the next shot came I was safe on our side of the field. It would have done me good that day if the Adjt. could have been held up over our trenches as mark for some Johnny sharpshooter, but I soon forgave him and charged the cost up to bad whiskey.
Such experiences did not exactly endear Allyn to Merriam, but he did develop some respect for him after the Battle of the Crater on July 30, 1864, which left the 31st Maine decimated. Merriam missed the fight, having been sick, but he immediately set out to visit survivors in the division hospital.
One of the first that I found from the 31st. was Lieut. Allyn, the Adjutant. He was sitting propped up on one of the hospital cots looking so well and smoking so contentedly, that I thought he could be but slightly wounded. His first salutation to me was Well, Sergt., how about those reports”? I told him they were not due until the next day and should be attended to promptly. “All right,” he said and then asked me about myself. I told him I could tend to his work till he was well enough to return, at which point he smiled rather faintly and said his leg was broken. I could hardly credit the statement and my respect for him went up several degrees at the site of the cool nerve with which he was bearing such a wound. For fear of tiring him I asked no more questions and left him sincerely wishing him a speedy recovery. It was hard to believe what I was told by others, that the Adjutant’s thigh had been shattered by a rifle ball and that his chance for life was slight indeed. In fact, he died the next day. He and Capt. Dean of Company A., were the only officers who got back to our lines. I have always supposed, though I could never find anyone who knew certainly, that the Adjt. was shot very near our own lines while making his way back from the crater. Certainly he could not have dragged himself very far with a shattered thigh.
I sincerely mourned the death of Lieut. Allyn. He had indeed made things lively for me and with the help of his flask had more than once set me into unnecessary danger, but the brave and uncomplaining way in which he met his death, had wiped out all of the old scores.
A typescript of Merriam’s recollections of the war is in the collections of the Maine Historical Society in Portland. You can read more about Merriam’s experiences in Maine Roads to Appomattox, which will be published in May 2027.
maineroadstoappomattox.com 
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