The Campaigns of the 124th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with Roster and Roll of Honor — Story, Setting & Ideas

A Self-Critical Introduction

Lewis opens with an unusual admission: the campaigns "should have been written by one that had as full knowledge of the entire regiment as the author of these imperfect sketches had of the company he commanded." This is not false modesty but a precise statement of the book's limitations. The author positions himself as a company-level observer, not a regimental historian with comprehensive data. He also notes that he wrote some of the campaigns for preservation and delivered them by solicitation before a "permanent organization." The introduction thus frames the text as a retrospective compilation, shaped by the gaps in the author's own record-keeping and the passage of time.

Potatoes and the Sanitary Commission

In the chapter covering the interval after Atlanta, Lewis devotes several paragraphs to a trainload of Irish potatoes sent by the Sanitary Commission. He describes men who had not tasted vegetable food for eighteen months, and the scene of "great bronzed and weather-beaten soldiers, running around with their hands full of potatoes." The detail is striking for its ordinariness: the joy of a potato, served with salt, becomes a measure of deprivation. Lewis explicitly contrasts this with civilian expectations of "nice Jersey butter." The passage also praises the Sanitary Commission as "the greatest and most magnificent of charities ever organized," revealing how supply and morale intersected in the Army of the Cumberland.

Structure and Scope

The table of contents shows a chronological arc from Cleveland to Nashville, with chapters on Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain, Missionary Ridge, East Tennessee, Atlanta, and the final march. The book closes with a roster of field and staff, ten companies, unassigned recruits, and a roll of honor. This dual structure—narrative followed by documentary appendix—is typical of regimental histories, but Lewis's narrative voice is personal and anecdotal. He recounts the disappointment of not being chosen for Sherman's march to the sea, noting the "chagrin and heartburning" of the 124th. The excerpts suggest a work that balances tactical summary with the felt experience of soldiers waiting in camp.

Readers should approach this book as a partial record, shaped by one officer's memory and his acknowledged limitations. The roster and roll of honor provide a counterweight to the narrative, grounding the campaigns in individual names. Lewis's account is most valuable where it departs from official history—in the potato issue, the camp routines, and the quiet frustrations of soldiers left behind. These details, though small, offer a window into the everyday texture of the war as experienced by the 124th Ohio.

Rain tapped the window while I traced the 124th Ohio’s weary march through Georgia, G. W. Lewis’s dry regimental notes feeling oddly intimate. Somewhere between Chickamauga’s chaos and Sherman’s grim resolve, I set it down and picked up A Century of Wrong — Background and Themes. That book’s quiet fury about forgotten injustices lingered like the afternoon’s gray light. One history simply led to another, the way rain finds its way downhill.