THE

Old Sixth Regiment,

ITS

WAR RECORD, 1861-5,

BY

CHARLES K. CADWELL,

Late Sergeant of Co. F.

NEW HAVEN, CONN., 1875.

NEW HAVEN:
TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE & TAYLOR, PRINTERS.
1875.

TO

THE LOYAL WOMEN,

WHOSE

HUSBANDS, BROTHERS AND FRIENDS

CAST THEIR LOT WITH THE OLD SIXTH

IN

DEFENCE OF THE FLAG,

THIS MEMORIAL OF PATRIOTIC SERVICE IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED

By the Author.

INTRODUCTORY.

The object of this work is to give a true and impartial record of the old Sixth Regiment during the war. The author collected the facts from a private diary kept by himself while in the service. Less has been known of the Sixth by our citizens than most of the other regiments; perhaps this is due partly to the fact that when we arrived in Washington Colonel Chatfield instructed officers and men that it was unmilitary to write letters for the press; he desired that the War Record should know the record of the Sixth, and not the newspapers only. Its history is less full on this account; yet none can say that the record of the Sixth is sullied. In many trying places the regiment proved itself honorably and gained confidence from its corps and department commanders.

There may be errors in this work, and if any are inclined to censure, I trust they will remember that very few histories are without them; yet they are errors of the head and not of the heart. If what is here written meets the approval of the old members and the intelligent readers in general, I shall feel that my labors have been amply rewarded.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

In camp at New Haven.—Fall in for rations.—Uncle Sam’s “Tanyards.”—Squad drills.—An old man’s blessing.

CHAPTER II.

Off for the conflict.—Reception at Philadelphia.—Through Baltimore at night.—Cattle cars to Washington.—“Soldiers’ Retreat” in Washington.—Fat pork and muddy coffee.—Visit the Capitol.—Camp at Meridian Hill.—At Annapolis, Md.—Embark on an Expedition.—Terrible storm at sea.—Incidents, &c.

CHAPTER III.

In Port Royal harbor.—The ball opens.—First naval engagement of the war.—Forts Walker and Beauregard.—Union fleet bombard the rebels.—Complete rout of the enemy.—Triumphant victory for the Union.—Great enthusiasm.—Connecticut lands the first troops.—Terrible scenes on land.—Rebel pigs and chickens.—Uncle Sam’s rations at a discount.—Warsaw Sound, Ga.—“Greybacks accumulate.”—“Sketch for special artist.”—Spotted fever.—Deaths daily.—The old Sixth unfit for duty.— Ordered to Hilton Head.—Dawfuski Island Camp.—Jones Island on Savannah river.—Fort Vulcan built of mud.—Yankee ingenuity and cunning displayed.—High tides, &c.

CHAPTER IV.

Capture of Fort Pulaski.—Heavy bombardment.—Back to Dawfuski Island.—North Edisto Island blackberries help Uncle Sam’s pork to digest.—Across John’s Island.—Col. Chatfield’s speech, victory or death.—Tedious rain.—Guerillas cut off our supplies.—Three days without food.—50 cents for a “hard tack.”—Arrive at Legareville on the Stono river.—Cook rations.—Across the river to James Island.—Tom Grimball’s Plantation.—Rebel advance.—Battle of Secessionville.—Evacuation of James Island.—Go to Beaufort.—Band of the Sixth mustered out.—Expedition to Mackay’s point.—Battle of Pocotaligo.—Col. Chatfield and Lieut. Col. Speidel wounded.—Whole command return to Hilton Head.—The Sixth at Beaufort.—Death of our department commander Maj. Gen. Mitchell.

CHAPTER V.

Off for Florida.—Land at Jacksonville.—Occupy houses instead of tents.—Skirmish with the enemy.—Streets barricaded to prevent incursions of the rebel cavalry.—Sermon by Rev. Mr. French.—Evacuation of Jacksonville by Union troops.—Town fired by the 8th Maine and a colored regiment.—Back to Beaufort.—Thirty-five hours in the town.—Embark again—a fizzle.—Back to Hilton Head.—Off again; land at Folly Island.—Battery building at night.—Speak in whispers.—Up Folly river.—Capture of the southern portion of Morris Island.—Brilliant charge of the Sixth.—Capture a rebel flag.—Assault on Fort Wagner.—Terrible scene at night.—Awful carnage.—Col. Chatfield twice wounded.—Union force repulsed.—The ranks of the Sixth terribly shattered.—Ordered to Hilton Head.—Death of Col. Chatfield.

CHAPTER VI.

Our new Colonel.—Great dissatisfaction thereby.—Part of the Sixth re-enlist.—Deserters shot.—Death of Captain Allen.—Up to Virginia under Butler.—Ascend the James river.—Bermuda Hundred.—Skirmish with the enemy.—Battle of Chester Station.—Death of Captain Wilcox.—Advance on Drury’s Bluff.—One of Butler’s “masterly movements.”—Battle of Drury’s Bluff.—Union forces “change front to the rear.”—Resignation of our new Colonel.—Appointment of Captain Rockwell as Colonel of the Sixth.—President Lincoln rides by.—“What mean those cheers.”—Battle of Strawberry Plains.—Hancock’s works.—Battle of Deep Run.—In holes around Petersburg.—Discharge of the non re-enlisted men.—Their reception in New Haven.

CHAPTER VII.

Around Petersburg.—Advance toward Richmond.—Attack on Battery Harrison.—Draft riots in New York.—The Sixth ordered there until after election.—Back again to Virginia.—Embark on expedition down the James.—Capture of Fort Fisher.—Advance on Wilmington.—Skirmishing with the “Johnnies.”—Enemy driven across North East river.—At Goldsboro, N. C.—Surrender of Lee’s army.—Muster out of the Veteran Sixth at New Haven.

APPENDIX.

Association of the Old Sixth meet in New Haven in May, 1868.—Its object.—Permanent organization effected.—Choice of officers.—Yearly reunions, their character, &c.—Pleasant occasions.

ROSTER OF THE OLD REGIMENT.

Names of officers.—Residence.—Date of muster.—General remarks.—Names of enlisted men.—Substitutes and drafted.—Date of muster.—Residence.—General remarks concerning all.—Unassigned recruits.

ROLL OF HONOR.

CASUALTIES OF THE SIXTH.

THE

SIXTH REGIMENT,

Connecticut Volunteer Infantry.

CHAPTER I.

Early Spring in the year 1861, was an eventful one in American history. Troops were organizing in all the loyal States to go forth and suppress the unequal war that was waged upon the people of the North. Deeply was it overshadowing our land and threatening to destroy our liberties as a nation. The shot against Sumpter’s wall was the key note of the Rebellion, and its echo was heard in every town and hamlet, uniting all loyal hearts and inspiring all the people with a zeal which had hitherto remained dormant—a zeal to avenge the insult offered to our flag and to vindicate the nation’s honor. Traitors had been arrogant in our land and had openly defied any power of the national government to suppress their actions, but the shot from Charleston directed against a federal fort aroused the people to a stern sense of duty. The call for brave men was nobly responded to, and regiment after regiment took their place in line, and in due time was off for the conflict. The disaster that befell the three months’ troops in the memorable Bull Run campaign, is widely known and needs no repetition here. Then the call for three years’ men was issued and again the ranks of the army were rapidly filled. None heeded the call with greater alacrity than the men who composed the members of the Sixth Regiment. A finer regiment or a more patriotic one, I venture to say, never entered the Union army; and that they maintained the honor of the State of Connecticut and reflected credit on their organization, subsequent events will prove.

The Sixth was sworn into the State service on the 3d of September, in camp at Oyster Point, New Haven, and on the 12th of the same month Uncle Sam made us secure for three years or the war. The ranks of the Sixth were filled with men who represented almost every avocation in life. There were to be found professional men, others who had made science a study, as well as a number who were skilled mechanics in those higher grades of industry. The merchant left his counting room, the student his books, the mechanic his workshop, the farmer his plow, and stood shoulder to shoulder in the ranks for the one grand object—the suppression of the Rebellion and the restoration of the old flag. The field officers of the Sixth, with one exception, had already been baptized with fire, and quite a large number of the rank and file had seen active service in the three months’ campaign. John L. Chatfield of Waterbury was commissioned as Colonel; Wm. G. Ely of Norwich, Lieut. Colonel; John Speidel of Bridgeport, as Major.

The first company that reported on the ground was from Windham County—Thomas K. Bates of Brooklyn, Conn., as Captain. Three companies were furnished from New Haven, viz: Company “C,” Capt. Daniel Klein; Company “F,” Captain Lewis C. Allen, Jr.; Company “K,” Captain Henry G. Gerrish. Company “B,” Captain Benjamin F. Prouty, was from Hartford and the adjoining towns. Company “D,” Captain Lorenzo Meeker, was recruited principally from Stamford and Greenwich. Waterbury and the towns along the Naugatuck Valley furnished the members of Company “E,” Captain Edward P. Hudson. Company “G,” Captain John N. Tracy, was mainly from New Britain. Company “H,” Captain Henry Biebel, was called a Bridgeport company, although most of the members were recruited in towns and cities north of New Haven. Company “I,” Captain Thomas Boudren, was from Bridgeport, yet the adjoining towns contributed largely to her quota.

The companies, although formed under each letter, were not full when they reported in camp, yet recruits rapidly arriving soon swelled the ranks to the maximum number. The camp at Oyster Point was but the primary school that was to fit us for the more stern duties of the field, and very little care was bestowed upon our future movements, nor did we deem it wise to dwell upon the hardships of the soldier’s life when in the enemy’s country. We had some faint ideas of what might be, and while we could exclude these thoughts from our minds we considered it best to do so, knowing full well that trials would come soon enough. Our duties in camp were not arduous, and we patrolled our “beat” with unloaded muskets and kept a vigilant watch over the commissary stores at night, exercising as much care as in guarding the outposts in an enemy’s land. We would occasionally glance at the future and try to study its mysteries. There was considerable pleasure in the camp of the old Sixth, as well as its sorrows, and the time was well occupied in various ways and the days glided swiftly by. Friends were not wanting to regale our palates with choice food to supercede the rations of Uncle Sam, and to ply all manner of questions regarding our general health and condition. Such questions as “Did we sleep on feather beds?” and “We surely could not be expected to keep awake all night on guard?” and “Don’t they furnish butter on bread and milk in coffee?” All these questions met with a ready response, and we informed our careful friends that there was nothing like getting used to these things, and Uncle Sam would not probably see us suffer while so many patriots wanted a contract to furnish supplies. Our drilling was not very proficient during the first few days of camp life, from the fact that the camp was filled every day with the friends of the regiment, and the soldiers not having their uniforms, it was rather hard to determine who were enlisted in the service and who were the visitors. It is nothing detrimental to say that perhaps we “smelt the battle afar off,” and anticipated a succession of drills when we were removed from our friends and the pleasant scenes that surrounded us in New Haven. But after we received our uniforms and rifles, which was a few days before our departure, it gave a new impetus. Then the boys began to feel that they were really soldiers. We would don the army blue, and with a pair of Uncle Sam’s brogans upon our feet, the boys would respond to the order to “fall in,” with great alacrity; and then such a tramp with the “tan-yards” upon the parade ground was a sight amusing to behold; and woe be to that individual who had corns upon his feet when such a piece of sole leather happened to light upon them. Under the efficient leadership of our beloved Colonel, a brief period sufficed to acquaint us with a soldier’s varied duties. Each soldier received from Uncle Sam the usual equipment of kitchen utensils, which consisted of tin cup and plate, together with a knife, fork and spoon, and the men require no drilling to learn their use. If the order to capture a rebel fort was responded to with as much speed as the boys obeyed the call to “fall in for rations,” the cause of the Union would not suffer defeat at the hands of its defenders.

But all things have an end, and so it was with our pleasant camp at Oyster Point. After receiving the usual articles necessary for transportation, we received our marching orders. There was the usual bustle and excitement incident to breaking up a camp of soldiers, and each one felt that the time for parting with friends had come. Friendly greetings were heard on every hand. Many hearty hand-shakes and “God bless you,” were given with a will, and not a few were bathed in tears as the last good-bye was said. Many fond parents bade farewell to sons for the last time on earth. Lovers greeted those whose ties of affection and sympathy endeared them to each other, and fondly cherished the hope that they would meet again when the war was over. Our city fathers were not lacking in their praise at our soldierly bearing, and extended a prayerful wish for a speedy and triumphant return to our home and loved ones. One good old man, the Hon. James Brewster, from whose name Company “F” Was called Brewster Rifles, appeared in camp to the company he was so endeared to, and made them a speech, recounting the hardships and perils of a soldier’s life, and expressing a wish to hear a good report from Company “F.” As we gazed upon the venerable aspect of this good man, whose counsel and judgment were entitled to so much respect, we could not but inwardly resolve that our best efforts should be put forth in defense of the sacred liberties which had been such a strong bulwark to our nation. Many were affected to tears during his address, and I doubt not the memory of that hour made a lasting impression on many hearts present as he closed with an old man’s blessing.

CHAPTER II.

Tuesday, Sept. 17, was ushered in by a warm sun and a genial atmosphere, which only served to increase our interest in the busy scenes that were before us, for we were all aware that the old Sixth would soon be en route for the seat of war. The colonel and staff were busy issuing orders, captains of companies were instructed to issue no passes to leave camp, and so far as was practicable all visitors were excluded from the precincts of the camp proper. The cooks were busy preparing our rations, and every one seemed to think himself an important personage around the cook’s tent. As the day wore on the clouds began to thicken, portending a storm, and as the call was sounded by the drummers at 2 o’clock to “strike tents,” the rain came down copiously. We rolled up the wet canvass as expeditiously as possible, which was quickly loaded on our army wagons, together with other camp equipage.

We received two days’ rations for our haversacks, consisting of boiled ham and hard bread, to nourish the inner man, and were soon in line for our departure, but the usual delays incident to such an occasion kept us in line about three hours. 5 o’clock came, and with it the order to “Forward, march.” The band struck up “The gal I left behind me,” and we marched through the rain and mud to Belle Dock. The rain did not dampen the ardor of the boys nor decrease the patriotism of the citizens of the Elm City. Handkerchiefs from fair ones waved us adieu; men shouted “God bless the boys,” together with the martial music of the band to increase the enthusiasm, made our departure from New Haven pleasant to contemplate. Pleasant, from the fact that we felt that the prayers and best wishes of our good people would go with us, as incentives to noble principles and holy action. We embarked on the steamer Elm City and soon stretched ourselves on the several decks and in the cabin, glad enough for a chance to rest ourselves, for the rain had drenched us through to the skin. The boat left her moorings at 8 o’clock, and when we awoke we found ourselves alongside the dock at Jersey City. For some unknown reason we did not disembark till about noon. At 2 P. M. we left by rail for the capital of the nation. Arriving at Philadelphia we were entertained at the Union Refreshment Rooms with a bountiful collation, which was indeed refreshing to the inner man, and it also gave evidence of a large stock of loyalty on the part of the good people of that city. Every regiment passing through the city were made heartily welcome to their hospitality, and none will ever forget the hearty cheers and the “God speed” which was heard on every hand.

Leaving Philadelphia, our next stopping place was at Perryville, where we arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening. We were delayed here about two hours, and were then ferried across the river to Havre-de-Grace, when we again started by rail for Baltimore, arriving there at 10 P. M. No cheers for the Union soldier startled our ears at this place. No demonstration of delight at our arrival, but all seemed sullen, and their actions showed more of a secession spirit than otherwise. We were ordered to fix bayonets before we crossed the city, for the memory of the Massachusetts Sixth who had preceded us was not forgotten, and a repetition of those scenes would not have found us unprepared. The spilled blood of the Massachusetts Sixth will ever be a stain upon the records of the Monumental City while this generation inhabits this mundane sphere.

We crossed the city to the depot where we found cars waiting to transport us to Washington. We were huddled aboard cars that we understood were used to transport cattle the day previous, and we had no reason to disbelieve the report, for the muck and filth covered the floors to such a depth that anything short of a pair of Uncle Sam’s “tan-yards” would have been lost sight of in a short time. However, we accepted the situation, believing that it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. We arrived in Washington on the 19th, at 6 o’clock in the morning, very much fatigued by our wearisome ride in the cattle cars, wishing, longing, hoping, for what the soldier calls “a good square meal.” We expected Washington would not be behind Philadelphia in this respect, and after stacking our arms and waiting patiently for about two hours our ears were startled by that sound so welcome to every soldier, “Fall in for rations.” They marched us into a building having a sign over the door reading “Soldiers’ Retreat.” Visions of cold ham and soft bread appeared unto us, and that beverage, which always cheers but does not inebriate, we thought we smelt afar off; but alas, for a soldier’s hopes. What a sight greeted our eyes as we filed into that building. Three long rows of tables, running the length of the building, were piled up with chunks of half boiled pork which looked as if they had been cut from the hog when just killed, for the bristles were long enough to lift up each piece by. A quantity of stale and musty bread and some very muddy coffee, completed our bill of fare. We had not anticipated such a re-treat as this; however, we felt that it was nothing like getting used to these things, and we did retreat and got our breakfast at the eating houses. We had a few hours to see the sights of the city, and improved them by a visit to the Capitol and House of Representatives, also the Senate chamber, where some of the boys sat down in the chair which Jeff. Davis had vacated, just to see how it would seem. Others made impromptu speeches on the great questions which were agitating our country.

The camp which was assigned to us was out to Meridian Hill, about four miles from the capitol, and thither we marched and pitched our tents, and were quite willing to enjoy a comfortable snooze when the drums beat the tatoo.

The Sixth was brigaded with the Fourth and Seventh New Hampshire and the Seventh Connecticut, which arrived the next day, all under command of Brig. Gen. H. G. Wright.

A member of Co. “B” was taken ill when but a few days in camp, and was removed to Columbia Hospital, where he died of congestion of the brain on the 26th of September. This was the first death since our organization. Death claimed another victim in a member of Co. “F,” Theodore Gibbons by name. He died on the 7th of October.

The twenty days of our camp life in Washington was one unceasing drill: morning drills by the sergeants, before breakfast; company drill after that meal was over; then the brigade drill after dinner, taken with our other duties, made our time pretty much all occupied. We began to see in these extra duties the inner life of a soldier, and our proficiency in drill was manifest from day to day, yet as we heard of the clash of war and read the accounts of skirmishes, we longed to be at the front where we might participate in those stirring scenes. Several times during our camp life here, we were called into line and extra rounds of cartridges given us, with the orders to hold ourselves in readiness to move at a moment’s notice, but as often dismissed to await the next call.

On the 8th day of October we left Washington by rail for Annapolis, Maryland, and arrived there after a wearisome ride of twelve hours. We were quartered in the Navy Yard for a few days, which gave us an opportunity of seeing a few of the relics of the war of 1812. Many ancient looking swords, old flintlock muskets and wooden canteens were among the collection. A few days passed and we went outside the town and pitched our tents near a grove of fine old trees, where we might have better facilities for drilling, &c. We were inspected several times by prominent officers of the regular army, which gave evidence of some movement or other on foot, and a short time elapsed ere it was noised abroad that we were going on an expedition.

The 19th of October found us all packed up and tramping up the gang-planks of the steamers to sail on the great expedition, with sealed orders, under Gen. Sherman. The right wing of our regiment was assigned to the steamship Marion, the left wing to the steamer Parkersburg. There were seventeen regiments in all, and thirty-three steam transports to hold us, besides quite a fleet of gunboats, made up the entire fleet. Such formidable looking boats presented to our vision, gave evidence of something else beside a mere excursion. We knew that hard work and fighting were before us and that only a few days would elapse ere we should see the rebel soil.

Weighing anchor, we passed down the bay to Hampton Roads, Va., where we remained several days, waiting like Micawber, for something to turn up. Finally, the union jack gave the signal for sailing, and glad enough were we at the prospect of soon being able to step on terra firma once more. Two days out from Hampton Roads we experienced a terrible storm at sea, and for several hours the prospects of seeing anything but a broken wreck and finding a watery grave, were exceedingly dubious. Wave after wave poured over us. The hatches were fastened and everything on deck was lashed tight to prevent being washed away. The red glare of the lightning, with the terrific peals of thunder, made the scene awfully grand. Now in the trough of the sea and another moment upon the crest of the waves, with all on board terribly sea-sick, was a picture not very pleasant to dwell upon. Our fleet became scattered and two vessels were sunk; others had horses washed overboard; while another was forced to throw into the deep her entire armament, which consisted of some improved guns which we expected would do some very effective service. A merciful Providence permitted us to outride the storm and once more see the scattered fleet all together again, save those that went to the bottom. Many a prayer of thankfulness went up to God for our safe deliverance from such a storm.

A day or two of pleasant sailing brought us at anchor in the harbor of Port Royal, South Carolina, with two very formidable looking rebel batteries on either side of the harbor. Here we saw that our mission was to reduce these works and gain a foothold on South Carolina soil. The rebel soldiers gazed at us from their strongholds, and two very scaly looking gunboats ventured down from their hiding place a short distance above the batteries, and sent us their compliments in the shape of a few shells for about the space of half an hour, but with no damage to our fleet; but as soon as one of Uncle Sam’s boats gave them a few messengers of war, they were glad enough to change front to the rear and troubled us no more that day.

CHAPTER III.

The 7th of November, 1861, will ever remain in the history of the war as one in which a grand victory perched upon the banner of the Union; when treason and rebellion received a blow from which they never fully recovered. The members of the old Sixth will not soon forget the events that transpired. Our gunboats were occupied several hours in getting into position to do the most effective service, and after forming into a circle, with the grand old frigate Wabash taking the lead, they sailed around once and then opened fire upon those strongholds of rebellion. The enemy were evidently expecting something of the kind, for they returned the fire with great promptness. Fort Walker, on Hilton Head, seemed determined to drive the Union fleet away from the harbor, while Fort Beauregard, on Bay Point, which was opposite, played comparatively a small part, for all her shell fell short of the mark. As the boats moved nearer and nearer the engagement became more general, and shot and shell flew like hail through the air; those of the enemy doing little execution, while our shells seemed to stir up the sand around and in their batteries at almost every fire. The troops on the transports watched the engagement with intense interest, while broadside after broadside were poured into those doomed works of treason. Orders were signalled to have the troops prepare, in light marching order, to land at short notice. We were confident the battle would be short and decisive, as the rebels could not withstand such terrible odds. As the battle raged, our boats directed a part of their fire into the woods that skirted the shore on Hilton Head. What could that be for? was the query; when it was announced that the rebels were routed and were retreating through the woods; and such we learned to be a fact, as they could easily be discerned by the glass, making their escape in that direction. A few more well-directed shots, and the firing ceased; then we knew the victory was ours. A boat was lowered and manned by a picked crew of man-of-wars men, who pulled for the shore with great speed, landed and made their way into the fort on Hilton Head and raised the glorious stars and stripes on the rebel flag staff. Words cannot describe the events that followed in a few brief moments. The battle had been waged precisely five hours when the victory was announced. Liberty was triumphant over the despotism of slavery. The different bands on the steamers struck up the national airs, songs were sung, and cheer after cheer rent the air from thousands of throats, while the loud huzzas swept through the fleet like a whirlwind, and not a few prayers arose to the God of battles for giving us such a signal victory.

Thus was witnessed the first naval engagement of the war. Preparations were now made to land the troops, as it was feared the rebels would rally and contest the possession. The Connecticut troops were selected to land first, and the Sixth, with Lieut.Col. Ely in command, were put aboard the steamer Winfield Scott, while the Seventh, under Col. Terry, was in boats in tow of the steamer. The steamer ran as near the beach as she could, when we got into lighters and jumped into the swelling surf—a cold bath for us at 10 o’clock at night, with water up to armpits, our arms upstretched, with our rifles and cartridge boxes to “keep our powder dry;” but all were in good spirits and seemed willing to undergo any hardship to save the Union and the suppression of the infernal Rebellion.

We took possession of the rebel works after we landed, without making any formal demand therefor, and not until we landed did we know what dreadful havoc our shells had made; the sight beggars description. The dead and wounded lay in heaps, and the air resounded with groans and petitions for help. We built huge fires to dry ourselves, stationed our pickets and lay upon our arms, not daring to explore the island very far the first night, for fear of an ambuscade. The night was spent without sleep, as we were thoroughly drenched through, and we were glad to hail the morning light. A detachment of three companies under Lieut.Col. Ely explored the lower part of the island, and met a few of the enemy who had not succeeded in getting away; had a brisk skirmish with them, in which they retreated. The detachment brought into camp two fine brass howitzers, with a valuable pair of horses, besides seventy other horses, six mules, six wagons, two yoke of oxen, together with other valuable property of a total value of $50,000; but no credit was ever given us, not even a quartermaster’s receipt.

The island of Hilton Head was very rich and fertile; the cotton fields were ripe, waiting for the second picking. The palmetto tree was green and the air as balmy as June. Sweet potatoes were plenty, to be had for the digging. Every building near the fort was riddled by our shells, while the tents were torn into shreds. Our surgeons provided for the wounded as well as they could with the means at hand. Many of the dead were literally torn to atoms, and some were half buried where they fell; guns were dismounted, army wagons smashed, and many fine horses and mules lay in heaps. During the bombardment, a rebel gunner, wearing a red shirt, was noticed by our fleet to occupy a very prominent position on the parapet, and was seen to pat his gun every time he fired it, and we found one arm with a piece of red flannel upon it near the gun, which seemed to be all that was left of him; he was evidently blown to atoms. Those who succeeded in getting away alive must have beat a hasty retreat, for knapsacks, blankets and rifles lay in confusion all around, and were found at almost every step for miles through the woods. The armament of the fort was 22 heavy guns, most of which were rifled and of the most approved pattern; and two heavy globe-sight rifled cannon, the gift of some neutral English friends to the Confederate States.

For a short time Uncle Sam’s rations were at a discount, as the trophies of war in live stock seemed abundant. Pigs were roaming at will, only to be confiscated by a soldier; chickens and geese were found in large numbers, and we regaled our palates with sweet potatoes, sugar cane, roast pig and broiled chickens. The commissary stores of the rebels were probably larger at this time than during the latter days of the confederacy. But after a while of sumptuous living, we were obliged to fall back on our regular salt junk and hard tack.

After the stars and stripes, the State flag of Connecticut was the first to wave over South Carolina soil, and the Connecticut troops made the first advance into the interior. 120 head of beef cattle, numerous porkers, large quantities of chickens and other fowls were brought in from the adjoining plantations in the days that followed, but these latter captures had to be turned over to the Quartermaster, except occasionally some fowl or porker that was slyly appropriated by a soldier for a “side dish” to accompany the junk and tack. We made frequent skirmishes over the island, but the foe had departed and the negroes were the sole occupants of the homes of their masters. The groves of orange trees at Seabrook’s plantation were very fragrant, and the ripe fruit was quickly disposed of as contraband of war. We scouted out to the plantation owned by one Graham, which was about five miles from Hilton Head. There we found quite a village of negroes, who seemed pleased to see the “Yankees,” as they termed us; and on our inquiry as to the whereabouts of their masters, their reply was, “I dunno, massa; dun gone for true dis time; spect him a right smart way off.” The plantation of “Squire Pope,” as the negroes called him, was a lovely place, indeed. The fine old southern mansion was situated in a large grove of live oak trees, with ample grounds neatly fenced. Large groves of orange trees, whose fragrance filled the air and gave evidence of the home of contentment and wealth, but the occupants had fled and left their household goods to the mercy of the soldiers. Two spacious libraries were in the house, filled with books. Heavy plate glass mirrors and fine oil paintings adorned the walls, which, together with the rich furniture, made the place seem too good to be destroyed by the ruthless hand of war.

Our forces were busily engaged in unloading the transports of their cargoes; piles of lumber were brought ashore and three large storehouses were erected on the island to hold Uncle Sam’s rations; and everything indicated that Uncle Sam was to hold possession. Wheelbarrows, pickaxes and shovels were numerous, and we soon learned their use. A long line of earthworks was thrown up by the troops for protection from any advance that might be made. While we remained at Hilton Head we became very proficient with the shovel and pick, and for a time our rifles became rusty; but the same could not be said of our shovels.

The early months of winter, 1862-3, the Sixth remained on the island, perfecting themselves in drill and awaiting orders; and the 20th of January found us with orders to embark on a secret expedition under Gen. Wright. We were hurried aboard of the steamer Cosmopolitan, a boat much too small to accommodate our regiment; but we were informed that our stay aboard would be of brief duration—perhaps only a day or two would elapse before we should land. We accepted the situation, as it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. A storm set in and kept the fleet in the harbor for nearly a week; after which we weighed anchor and dropped down to Warsaw Sound, Ga., with the idea of avoiding Fort Pulaski and capturing Savannah by the way of an inlet. A long experiment was made by our gunboats, while the transports with the troops lay in Warsaw Sound. Commodore Tatnall, of the rebel navy, with his “mosquito fleet,” as it was named, made several assaults on our gunboats, but was invariably compelled to withdraw without any advantage gained. Our condition on shipboard was deplorable; so cramped were we for room that when we lay on the decks at night one could not walk among the sleeping forms without stepping on a soldier. For sixteen days we were fed on salt pork and beef, and no vegetables, with hard tack that was full of vermin, and water that had been put in kerosene oil barrels three months before. The water was so thick in one barrel that the writer saw, it could be lifted up on the finger. It was so nauseating and foul that when poured into the sea, the water was discolored by it. We had no water to cleanse our bodies, save what the sea afforded, and salt water without soap is not very good to cleanse with. Dirt and filth prevailed to an alarming extent, and “gray-backs,” as the boys called them, accumulated upon our bodies in a fearful manner. As one Dutchman expressed it, he had lice so big, “shust like wheat.” None were exempt from these pests, from the Colonel down. So alarming was our condition that the whole brigade was ordered ashore that we might bathe and wash our clothes while the boats were fumigated. Scarcely had we landed ere the whole beach presented a ludicrous appearance—a sight of which a “special artist” might envy—that of a brigade of soldiers stripped to the waist, picking off these vermin. We remained ashore one day and then returned to our old quarters on board the ship, and in a short time were as filthy as ever. Severe sickness in the form of “spotted fever” broke out in the ranks of the Sixth in consequence, and became so aggravating that there was an average of four or five deaths daily. Large strong men were attacked in the morning and before night were dead. It baffled the skill of our surgeons, who worked with untiring zeal to break up this dread malady. Death seemed near at hand; and to pass away by a foul disease contracted by being kept amid such filth was hard to contemplate. All expressed a desire rather to face all the guns of the rebel army than to meet death in this manner.

A religious interest sprang up and prayer meetings were held in the cabins every evening. Many were converted and a large number professed Christ as their only hope. The Division Surgeon came on board and pronounced our condition as a very critical one, and said we must be sent back to Hilton Head to recruit; so back we went, although we would have preferred to go with the fleet if our quarters had been suitable to stay in. News of our illness reached the Head before we did, and when we landed, there were none to bid us welcome; all the soldiers kept at a safe distance. We pitched our camp on the old parade ground of the Ninth Maine Regiment, but no soldiers ventured near to greet us, as is usual on such occasions. One regiment sent us some coffee, bringing it as far as our camp guard and leaving it for us to take at our pleasure.

Being once more on mother earth, with plenty of exercise and the facilities for keeping clean, the regiment rapidly improved in health, deaths became less frequent, and we felt like ourselves once more. As soon as practicable we were detailed to work on the fortifications, and the pick and shovel were not allowed to rust. The 20th of March again found us under marching orders; this time our destination was Dawfuskie Island. We embarked in the morning and landed at 10 o’clock at night; marched through the woods to the end of the island opposite Fort Pulaski. A drenching rain made our march very wearisome, and we were glad enough to find a chance for rest a short time before daybreak.

Dawfuski Island was a beautiful place. The groves of orange and fig trees were in blossom and their fragrance filled the air. The pomegranate and persimmon looked fine indeed, and the plantations were beautified with many choice flowers in full bloom. The Sixth made several reconnoissances up New River, toward Savannah, and watched the enemy in that direction. Part of our regiment was selected to occupy Jones Island, which was on the Savannah River, about midway between Fort Pulaski and the city. A few companies of the Forty-eighth New York Regiment had preceded us and were engaged in building a fort to prevent the enemy from reinforcing Pulaski. We built a corduroy road across the island by laying several tiers of logs across each other; and it was with extreme difficulty we could gain a foothold, as the mud was so soft we would slip and go down knee deep into the mud. None but Connecticut Yankees would have thought it possible to fortify themselves in such a place. There was not a tree or shrub on the whole island; nothing but tall rank sea grass. We pitched our tents in the mud; banked them up with mud, and it was mud everywhere. At some of the high tides the entire island was covered with water to the depth of several inches. The writer has a vivid recollection of being awakened one night with the water surging into his ears, and we were all obliged to get up from our bed of sea grass and wait for the tide to recede, with no more sleep that night. The confederacy and its leaders did not receive very flattering compliments from the Union soldiers about this time, or the writer’s ears deceived him.

We managed, however, by excessive labor, to build a fort of mud, with the assistance of a few bags of sand which we got out of the river when the tide was low. The hot southern sun baked the mud quite hard as we piled it up, and by degrees we managed to get a foundation secure enough to mount nine heavy guns, which we drew across the island by night. The task was very laborious, and many gave way to fevers and other diseases, which made extra duty for those who managed to survive. Day after day we worked in mud and water up to our knees. The gnats and mosquitos were so thick we tied cloths around our heads to get a partial relief from the insects. Our water for cooking and drinking purposes we got from the river; it was brackish and insipid enough, and many sighed for a cooling draught from the old oaken buckets of our northern homes.

CHAPTER IV.

The batteries on Tybee Island being already very strongly entrenched (the mortars out of sight of the fort), everything appeared ready for the battle. The Seventh Connecticut was assigned the duty of serving at the mortar batteries and other troops were on duty at the rifled guns. The work before us seemed no easy task, considering the strength of the enemy. Fort Pulaski’s walls were seven feet thick and mounted one tier of guns in embrasures and on en barbette. It was a huge five-sided fortress and was said to have been built by a Connecticut Yankee. Twenty guns, including 10-inch Columbiads, bore upon our batteries at Tybee, which had a decidedly unpleasant look. Col. Olmstead, the commander of Pulaski, was once more and for the last time invited to surrender; but he sternly refused by saying he was put there to defend the fort and not surrender it. Our batteries opened the ball at 8 o’clock on the morning of the 10th of April by a signal gun from battery Halleck. Simultaneously all the guns and mortars blazed away with such a deafening roar that the very island itself seemed to shake in its marshy anchorage. From that hour onward till the surrender, the artillery fire against the solid masonry of Pulaski’s walls was terrific. The rebels replied vigorously and in a determined manner. The smoke was so dense that the sun was obscured. At a quarter to eleven o’clock the rebel flag-staff was shot away and the rebel rag tumbled down. This was hailed with intense cheers and seemed to add new zeal to the soldiers who manned our guns. The distance between the combatants was at least a mile, yet it was very evident that nearly all our shots were telling. Our solid shot brought away great piles of masonry and clouds of brick dust filled the air. All day long an incessant fire was kept up, and at night the mortar batteries sent their compliments while the others ceased. At daylight the next morning the battle was resumed with its accustomed vigor, and in the early part of the forenoon a large breach was made in the walls. Guns were dismounted and seen to fall, yet the rebs seemed as tenacious as ever. Our gunners directed their fire toward the magazine of the fort in such well-directed shots that the rebels, fearing an explosion, hoisted the “white flag” at two o’clock, April 11th, and its appearance was greeted with the wildest enthusiasm. Cheer after cheer rent the air as victory had once more perched on our banners. The firing ceased, the smoke cleared away, and then we saw plainly the great destruction our shells had made. The Seventh Connecticut had the honor of taking possession of the works and was also awarded the rebel flag.

After the fall of the fort, Col. Chatfield was ordered to dismantle Fort Vulcan, on Jones Island, the battery of mud upon which we had worked with so much zeal. But, by some misunderstanding, our gunboats were drawn off, which left us in rather an unpleasant predicament, had the rebels chosen to come from Savannah and attack us. But Col. Chatfield was equal to any emergency, and with his usual foresight and calm self-possession, he dismounted the 10-inch columbiad in the night and floated it on a raft over to Pulaski, where it arrived safely the next day. In its place we mounted a black log with a barrel on one end. After our evacuation, Johnnie Reb sallied down the river and captured the “Quaker.” We resumed our pleasant camping ground on Dawfuski Island, which was quite a pleasing contrast with that on Jones Island; but the arduous labors imposed upon the Regiment for the past few weeks began to tell upon the men and patients at the hospital were numerous.

We remained here drilling, and with our usual camp duties, till the last week in May, when we were ordered to report at Hilton Head, again embarking on that dreaded steamer Cosmopolitan, but did not remain on board very long this time, for, upon reporting to the General, we sailed for North Edisto Island, and arrived there in the evening of May 22d. Large quantities of blackberries were ripe in the field, and we found them very palatable and we thought they helped Uncle Sam’s pork to digest. The Brigade under Gen. Wright was here reorganized and composed of the following troops: 6th Conn.; 47th New York; 55th and 97th Penn. Regiments. We here spent the time in brigade drills and the usual picket duties till the 1st of June, when we crossed over to John’s Island. We expected our destination would be somewhere in the vicinity of Charleston, and were not disappointed. After marching several miles we halted at a large sugar plantation for rest. Col. Chatfield addressed us on our mission, and assured us we were marching on to victory or death, as we were going into the hot bed of rebeldom and undoubtedly would see some hard fighting; but he was confident we would meet the issue with determined bravery, and he was to “lead us forward.” This last remark brought forth cheer after cheer for our gallant Colonel. The members of the Sixth felt justly proud of Col. Chatfield.

Our march across John’s Island was slow and tedious, as the guerillas infested us on all sides. Our cavalry scouts were ever on the alert, but, as the road was new to them the rebs used every advantage against us. Our wagon trains were cut off and the command was without food for three days. Men offered 50 cents for a hard-tack. One soldier offered to eat a dog if it could be found. A body of cavalry moved to the rear and assisted greatly in dispersing the guerillas, and we were again rejoiced to see some salt junk. To add to our discomfort, a drenching rain storm set in which lasted three days, and while we were without tents or shelter of any kind except a gum blanket. To skirmish the woods through the briers and underbrush all day and lay on our arms at night with our clothes wet through and flesh all parboiled, was not very agreeable. We were not allowed to build a fire on any condition, as our near approach to the foe might discover our strength. When we arrived at the little village of Legareville, on the Stono River, opposite James Island, we found none to oppose us; all had fled. The poor shanties that composed the village were the only dry wood available for fires; we concluded we would confiscate enough to dry our clothing and cook our pork. As we were now within sight of the Johnnies, no further seclusion seemed necessary, for in a few days at least, we expected to “get together,” and we knew we should have more zeal with a good square meal in our stomach and dry clothes upon our backs. Our chaplain counted eighty-three fires made on the ground, with an average of five cups to each fire, cooking pork, bacon and coffee. Col. Chatfield was assigned to the command of our Brigade, and on the evening of June 8th, he moved across the river to James Island, which is only about four and a half miles from Charleston. We rested for the night on Tom Grimball’s plantation. The enemy attacked us the next night in our front, but were repulsed after a brisk skirmish of an hour’s duration. The Connecticut battery was here, doing excellent service under Captain Rockwell, and the gun boats shelled the enemy over our heads, both of which proved valuable assistants to us. The Sixth held the advance picket line on the left for several days, and the rebels annoyed us exceedingly by sudden dashes through the woods upon our front, but we held our position firmly and repulsed every sortie made. Their sharpshooters, posted in trees and in places where they could see our position, very often shot down the picket without giving us a chance to fire back unless we fired at random. Gen. Wright remarked to his staff that he could rest quietly while the Sixth Connecticut held the advance; he was not afraid of the picket line being deserted, as was the case with a Pennsylvania regiment who ran into camp in great haste one night, reporting the advance of the whole force of the Johnnies, when it was found that only a few of them had ventured near our lines to see what material Uncle Sam’s boys were made of. Gen. Wright promptly sent them back to their post, with orders to remain there till properly relieved. The pickets kept up their fire along the lines, and many were killed and wounded without extending the line on either side.

The battle of Secessionville was fought the 16th of June. This was a small village north of Stono river, but was strongly entrenched outside. With Gen. Lamar’s forces in the rifle-pits, a strong abatis in front, flanked by creeks and marshy ground and everything in their favor, the task seemed not an easy one to accomplish. Gen. Benham started his forces at daylight, and when near enough to do any service, the command, which consisted of about 7,000 men, wheeled into line and the attack became general. The enemy poured a most galling fire into our forces and mowed down our men with fearful loss. The swampy ground making it impossible to form a line of battle, the forces were massed together, which impeded its progress as well as destroyed its efficiency. After several assaults, the forces were obliged to give up the contest and withdrew in good order, with nothing gained, but with a great sacrifice of life. The whole expedition seemed to have been shockingly managed. Ten thousand men were sent here on a five days’ march with about two days’ rations, and the plan of the battle reflected no credit upon the person who conceived it. It was reported in camp that it was a successful reconnoissance to find the exact position of the enemy, and, as the troops withdrew in good order, the second attack would prove victorious. But all soldiers are not deceived by reports from headquarters. We well knew it was a defeat, with everything that word implied, and a second attempt would have resulted as disastrously as the first under the same leadership and plan of attack. Our loss in killed, wounded and missing footed up to 763. Only two companies of the Sixth were directly engaged. The other portion of the regiment was held in reserve. Had the enemy followed up their advantage they might have compelled us to seek shelter under the banks of the river, but could have forced us no further, as the gun boats were a strong defence whenever an opportunity offered itself. The enemy shelled us pretty severely for several days after this, and we were constantly under arms, expecting an advance, but none was made.

When Gen. Hunter arrived from the North he ordered an immediate evacuation of the island. The command moved at midnight across the island to Battery Point, where we leveled to the ground two of the enemies’ batteries which they had evacuated for a season, destroyed by fire a long bridge that spanned a river, and then embarked. The Sixth and Seventh Conn. went back to Edisto Island with Gen. Wright, while the remaining forces were sent to other stations. Our stay on Edisto was a brief one of only two weeks duration, when we were called to Port Royal. After reporting at the latter place we were sent up to Beaufort. This little seaport town was once the summer resort for the chivalry. It contained some very pretty houses, two medium-sized hotels, several churches and an arsenal; but how desolate in appearance now,—not a white inhabitant of the town remained to greet us; all had fled. The negro population welcomed the advance of the Union troops and gladly hailed the appearance of their deliverers. Brig. Gen. Brannon commanded the post here. We encamped in a fine grove of live oak trees that skirted the banks of the river and considered ourselves fortunate in getting such a pleasant place for our camp. The greater part of the summer months were inactive in this command. The forces settled down for the regular camp drill and discipline. Each regiment took its turn at the ten days’ picket service, which duty called them out to some fine plantations in the suburbs of the town. Here we enjoyed the life of the soldier. Our duties were not arduous and we had opportunity for reading and writing. The fields were filled with sweet potatoes and corn, together with the orange and fig trees which abounded near the houses, made our visits on this picket duty desirable. Our lines skirted the banks of the rivers and streams, with an occasional raid upon the main land in search of the Johnnies. These raids sometimes resulted in great captures, not of the rebs themselves but of their fowls. The Union soldiers did not want the fowls to lack or suffer hunger, and so confiscated them that they might not starve. Lieut.Col. Ely left the regiment here at Beaufort, having been promoted to be Colonel of the Eighteenth Connecticut. During the intense heat of the summer many fevers prevailed and a number sickened and died. Yellow jaundice prevailed to a great extent. All seemed afflicted with it more or less, which was about as comfortable to endure as sea-sickness. Capt. Gerrish, of Company “K,” died on the 19th of August, of typhoid fever, after an illness of about three weeks; his loss was deeply felt in the regiment.

It was during our sojourn in Beaufort that orders were issued from Washington for the discharge of all regimental bands. The members of the Sixth deeply regretted the loss of their band; it was such a comfort to hear the strains of music, and we felt that we could march better, yea, fight better, with the band to enliven the scenes that surrounded us; but the order was peremptory and home they went, regretted by all.

In the latter part of October an expedition was conceived by Maj. Gen. Mitchel, commanding the Department of the South, to proceed inland with a small force and burn the railroad bridges between Charleston and Savannah. Scouts had been sent out on several occasions to find the position of the enemy. A negro lent valuable assistance on one of these occasions, and the attempt at least seemed practicable. Sergt. Robert Wilson, of Co. “D,” Sixth Connecticut, had been selected to pilot the raid, as his knowledge of the position of the enemy had been carefully gained by his recent daring scouts in their vicinity. Two brigades of troops under Brig. Gen. Brannan were selected for the occasion. The first brigade was led by Col. Chatfield, including his own regiment; the second brigade being led by Gen. Terry. The fleet consisted of nine gun boats, three transports, one schooner and two tugs. The Sixth was commanded by Lieut. Col. Speidel, a man noted for his bravery and his keen judgment and foresight. The fleet sailed on the afternoon of the 21st of October, through Broad River, twenty miles from Port Royal, and the next morning at 7 a. m. we landed at a place called Mackay’s Point, at Boyd’s landing. Here the whole command rapidly disembarked and pushed forward. The first brigade led the advance, and the force, in column by companies, kept together as closely as the state of the road would permit. We passed many recently deserted plantations, pushing on over corn and cotton fields, through ditches and swamps for about five miles, when we discovered the enemy posted on a rising ground beyond a marsh and flanked by thick wood. They immediately opened upon us with a heavy fire of musketry and howitzers as we entered a large corn field, and our command quickly formed in line of battle and “went for them” pretty much the same as “Bill Nye went for the heathen Chinee.” Haversacks and blankets were immediately thrown off and we were very soon hotly engaged. The rebs fled along the road before the second brigade was fairly on the ground. The first brigade entered the woods under a galling fire of grape and cannister. Here we found it difficult to proceed, as the underbrush was so thick we could scarcely stand upright, and all the while subjected to a storm of bullets without a chance to make an effective return shot. We were ordered to fall back in the corn field while the skirmish line moved up the road. We soon cleared the woods of the enemy and again pushed forward through a deep morass, over ditches and through such thick briers that the blood oozed from our hands and faces. The jolly Jack Tars from the gun boats, led by the Middies, brought up several field pieces by means of drag ropes, and did very effective service in dislodging the enemy at this point. Here our regiment suffered severely. Col. Chatfield and Lieut. Col. Speidel were both struck with cannister shots while bravely leading the men. The old Sixth, as if to avenge the wrong, became more desperate than ever and charged upon the Johnnies and drove them across the Pocotaligo river into the town bearing that name. They immediately fired the bridge to prevent our crossing, and the structure was rapidly consumed. The river being too deep to ford, we were obliged to remain on its banks. Our object was to destroy the bridges over the Pocotaligo, Salketchi and Coosawatchie rivers, and cut the railroad at this point, in which we were partially successful.

Col. Barton, of the 48th New York, landed at the mouth of the Coosawatchie river and proceeded inland to the railroad, where they encountered a train of cars loaded with rebel soldiers. They fired upon them, killing the engineer and also the color-bearer of the “Whippey Swamp Guard,” and captured his flag. The 48th was obliged to fall back, as the rebels outnumbered them three to one, but made good their retreat without the loss of a man. The first brigade was engaged felling trees to bridge the river preparatory to crossing, but the fire of the enemy was so deadly we were obliged to desist. During the lull a locomotive whistle was heard in the distance and a train of cars thundered into the village laden with rebel troops, which was received with cheers for “South Carolina.” Late in the afternoon our ammunition was spent and we were obliged to fall back. The Sixth Connecticut and 47th New Hampshire covered the retreat. Our return to Mackay’s Point was slow and tedious, as we carried off all our wounded and gently laid out our dead, covering them as far as we could with the blankets of the soldier.

The horrors of war were indeed sickening, as the rebels had every position in their favor and their fire was very destructive. Dead soldiers and horses lay in the woods as we passed; broken gun carriages lined the road, and blankets, haversacks and rifles lay around the ground in large numbers. One sight which the writer witnessed gave evidence of true heroism. As the man-of-war’s men filed down the road dragging their guns, one old Jack Tar who had lost his right leg and from which the blood was still oozing, was strapped upon his gun, while his comrades were gently cheering him up. As he passed our regiment he looked up with as cheerful a face as he could command, and, reaching out his arm, patted his gun as affectionately as one would a favorite child. Such heroism should not go unrewarded. Many of our command displayed unflinching courage, and the record of the Sixth Connecticut at this battle was indeed gratifying to its general officers.

We had about 4500 troops engaged, composed of the following regiments: 6th Conn.; 4th New Hampshire; 47th and 55th Penn. regiments, in the first brigade under Col. Chatfield. The 7th Conn., 76th Penn., 3d Rhode Island, and 3d New Hampshire, composed the second brigade under Brig. Gen. Terry, besides the Jack Tars from the frigate Wabash. The total loss to the whole command is not within my knowledge, but the Sixth suffered a loss of five killed, twenty-nine wounded and three missing. Orderly sergeant Robert B. Gage, of Co. “I,” who displayed great bravery on the field, was killed by a rifle ball in the side.

We arrived at Mackay’s Point about eleven o’clock at night, tired and footsore, and bivouacked on the banks of the river till morning, when we commenced to embark, which was completed at sunset, as the wounded were all brought in and tenderly cared for. We returned to our old camp at Beaufort, where we again settled down to the routine of drills, etc.

On the 30th of October our corps commander, Maj. Gen. Mitchel, died of yellow fever after an illness of a few days. The whole command mourned his loss as a brave and efficient general; one who had endeared himself to the soldiers by his many good qualities of heart and his pleasing address. The funeral was attended in St. Helena church at Beaufort. It was quite an impressive scene. The Forty-seventh Pennsylvania regiment acted as escort and was followed by the First Massachusetts cavalry and four pieces of the regular battery, besides detachments from all the other regiments in the command, the naval officers, headed by admiral Dupont, officers of the army on horseback, together with the agents of the government, made up the funeral cortege.

During the winter months of 1862-3 the Sixth remained at Beaufort, steadily increasing in drill and guarding the island from attacks from the main land. While thus comparatively inactive the members cast about for something to relieve the dull monotony of the season, and it was resolved to form a society for our mutual improvement. Having obtained consent of our commander, the society called “The Young Men’s Literary Association of the Sixth C. V.” sprang into existence. The officers elected were: President, Timothy H. Eaton, of Co. “A;” Vice President, Robert McLavy, of Co. “E;” Secretary, James A. Wilson, of Co. “K;” Treasurer, Charles K. Cadwell, of Co. “F;” Executive Committee, Clark M. Loomis and Charles M. Morris, of Co. “F.” We held many interesting debates in the Chapel tent on the leading questions of the day. As the society increased in membership we found our quarters much to small, and, by the consent of the commander of the post, we obtained permission to occupy one of the churches near our camp for our sole use, which we dedicated Chatfield Hall. This we fitted up as well as our limited means would allow, and, by the help of some of our generous officers, we added a small library. The society rapidly increased in interest, and members were admitted from other regiments, and many exciting debates, which would have reflected credit on the floor of Congress, were heard within this place. The Glee Club of the Sixth, composed of Benjamin Terrell, of Co. “F,” sergeants Whiteley, Deming and Edward Yates, and corporal Cummings, of Co. “G,” rendered some fine music on several occasions. Regular meetings for prayer and conference were also held, and many of these meetings were largely attended, with gratifying results. Exhibitions of various kinds were given by the boys, including arts of ventriloquism, negro minstrelsy, tableaux, &c. Thanksgiving day was spent in a variety of out-door sports, such as ball-playing, pitching quoits and running races; and at the close of the day we had a “Mock dress Parade,” in which privates acted as the general officers, being dressed as oddly as possible, some with only underclothes on, others with coats and pants turned inside out and with knapsacks under their coats. All orders from the “Col.” were obeyed directly opposite to the command. A large number of visitors were present and were convulsed with laughter at the proceedings, while the participants maintained as much decorum as when on a real parade.

New Year’s day, 1863, found us still at Beaufort, with the privilege of “half holiday.” The day was beautiful and the ushering in of the new year was pleasantly greeted by all, with many a hope and prayer that we should soon see the close of the war. A variety of games were gotten up to make time pass pleasantly, the first of which was a target practice. The first prize of ten dollars was awarded to a private in Co. “A,” the second best, a prize of five dollars, was awarded to a private of Co. “K.” The jumping feats were next in order, with a large number to compete. The prize of five dollars was awarded to Joel C. Osborn, of Co. “F.” Following this came the “hop, skip and jump.” Corporal Cummings, of Co. “G,” jumped, hopped and skipped thirty-three feet and four inches, and was declared the winner of the first prize of five dollars. The second best, a prize of two dollars and a half, was given to a private of Co. “I.”

These exercises closed the pleasures of the forenoon. In the afternoon a running match was first in order, distance 150 yards; first prize, of five dollars, awarded to corporal Botts, of Co. “D;” second prize, two dollars and a half, awarded to private Banty, Co. “D.” The next on the programme was a target placed in the ground to be bored with an auger at twenty paces, blindfolded. The prize of five dollars was awarded to Orrin Lathrop, of Co. “F,” he being the only competitor who touched the target at all. Next came the wheelbarrow races, distance 100 yards; first prize, five dollars, awarded to private Duprey, of Co. “A.” Nearly all the competitors went about a hundred yards from the point in opposite directions. The sack races were the most laughable of all, as each contestant was completely enveloped in a sack, which made their progress over the ground very ludicrous to behold. Catching the greased pig and climbing the greased pole were other games resorted to and had many contestants. The day closed with another burlesque dress parade and a short review, which was a decided improvement on our last one, and caused much pleasure to the spectators, among whom were Gen. Brannan and staff and a large number of ladies.

The Sixth spent a great deal of time on the surrounding plantations on picket duty, at which places we were picketed for ten days at a time. Each company made certain plantations their headquarters, while every nook and ravine where the enemy were likely to attack was strongly guarded. For a time we found rebel chickens and pigs more palatable than hard tack and pork. The oranges and figs were not left to spoil upon the trees, and every sweet potato and corn field was visited for supplies. The rebel pickets at Port Royal Ferry were very communicative, and several times we exchanged papers with them. They seemed anxious to “barter” something with a Union soldier whenever an opportunity presented itself. Their stock in trade consisted chiefly of tobacco, which they would readily exchange for salt or coffee. They invariably deprecated the war and wished for its close. Several flags of truce came at this point for different objects, the bearers of which were clad in the poorest of homespun clothes and always had the appearance of half starved creatures; long, lank, hollow-eyed, and hollow cheeks, with tangled hair and a saffron look in the face betokened the straits of the confederacy. Well might they wish for the war to close and “go hum,” as they termed it, when they gazed on the comparatively well fed and well dressed soldier of the Union army.

CHAPTER V.

The Sixth Connecticut Regiment left Beaufort on the evening of the 18th of March, bound down the coast. We passed several places of interest on our journey, among which were Mayport Mills, Fernandina and Fort Clinch. Deserted plantations lined the banks of the river and everything had the appearance of war’s desolation. In trying to cross the bar and enter St. John’s River we got aground, and after several ineffectual attempts, we finally succeeded by the aid of a tug-boat, and our destination, Jacksonville, was reached on the morning of the 20th of March. One U. S. colored regiment were the only troops in the town. We did not pitch our tents here, but occupied the houses which had but recently been vacated. We found in many of the houses everything necessary for housekeeping, even to beds and bedding. So hastily was the retreat of the chivalry from this place that many valuable household goods were among the trophies. Large quantities of eatables were found buried in stone pots, some quaint looking guns and almost every article needed for house use. Quite a number of families of rebel proclivities remained in the town, who were either unable to get away after we took possession, or else were unwilling to lose their household goods. We barricaded the streets and avenues leading out of the town by felling trees across the roads to prevent the incursions of the rebel cavalry which infested the woods back of the town.

Jacksonville was once a watering place and home for invalids, and many of our northern people resorted there during the months of winter to enjoy its salubrious climate. It must have been an inviting retreat in its palmiest days. Everything here seemed to have been laid out for comfort and convenience, unlike many places which we have visited. But alas! how things had changed. Houses that were once the home of wealth and luxury were now the abodes of the Union soldier. Gardens laid out with the choicest flowers were trampled under foot by horses of our cavalry; the stores were closed, the goods removed; and business at a standstill. A few negroes lurked around the town, who were glad to get under cover of the Union arms. Co. “F” of the Sixth occupied the fine old mansion belonging to Col. Pierson of the rebel army, which was situated on the corner of Market and Duval streets, opposite the Episcopal Church. There many of the troops resorted and the organ was in constant use.

The first Sabbath we spent in Jacksonville we attended service and listened to a very able discourse by the Rev. Mr. French; his subject was “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon.” The church was densely crowded with white and black soldiers, navy and army officers and civilians. In the course of his remarks he alluded to the deserted city and why the inhabitants had left it, fearing their lives would be in danger if they remained till the so-called Yankees made their advent in their midst. He expressed himself quite well pleased with the conduct of the white troops, and especially the Sixth Connecticut. He said Gen. Hunter had selected the Sixth above all others to occupy this place and protect the remaining inhabitants from the lawlessness of the rebel cavalry. He assured us our position was not an enviable one, as we were in a bad place and the woods swarmed with rebel cavalry, waiting only their chance to surprise us; but he (the speaker) was confident that the enemy would not catch us napping, and when brought to the foe, would meet them with determined bravery. We were quite pleased with the speaker’s allusion to our regiment, and he was personally thanked by many for the exalted opinion he entertained for us.

The Eighth Maine regiment arrived here from Beaufort a few days after we took possession. The rebels frequently annoyed us by shelling the town with a gun which they had fastened to a railroad car, and would bring it as near the town as they dared on the track, and then shell us. Our gunboats were not slow to disperse them, however, and they were soon driven back. On one of these occasions a shell entered a house (which the writer visited), passing through the bed-room in which a man and wife were sleeping, and in its course it passed through a stuffed-seat rocking chair on which lay the man’s coat, cutting off the skirts and forcing them through the back of the chair. The window glass were shattered and two looking glasses hanging in the room were broken, while the occupants of the bed were literally covered with plaster and splinters. The lady remarked to the writer that she was not partial to balls of that kind, and told him if he ever met Gen. Finnegan (the rebel commander), to present her compliments with the request that fish-balls would be more acceptable next time.

We found ourselves busy each day in preventing the raids of the enemy, and several times were called up at night by the pickets being driven in. Our force was so small that an advance very far would have been with a great sacrifice of life for us, and our gunboats prevented a very long stay of the rebel troops in the town. We suffered no loss of life in our regiment while here; a few were slightly wounded. An expedition of the negro troops went up the river as far as the town of Pilatki, where they surprised a small force of rebels and captured 14; the rest fled in dismay, fearing a large force was at hand. They also captured some horses and about $3,000 worth of cotton, which they brought away in safety. While on their way down the river the enemy fired upon them, wounding Lieut. Col. Billings of the First S. C. troops, a ball passing through the palms of both his hands and another through his leg.

On Sunday, the 29th of March, Gen. Hunter ordered the evacuation of Jacksonville by all the Union troops. The inhabitants begged permission to accompany the troops, as their lives were in danger as well as their property, if left at the mercy of the rebel troops. Their request was partially granted and they flocked in numbers to the transports with large quantities of household goods, which so completely blockaded the room that orders were issued to put the goods on the wharves again. Large numbers of negroes secreted themselves on board the boats, fearing to be left behind. As we left the town an old lady appeared on the veranda of her house wringing her hands and sobbing as if her heart would break, doubtless sad at our departure. A large number of the houses and stores were set on fire just before we got on board the steamers, and as we left the wharves the larger part of the town was in flames and was probably destroyed. This wanton act of vandalism was charged upon the negro regiment, and they in turn said the Eighth Maine Regiment was to blame; no doubt both of these regiments had something to do with its destruction. It was entirely unnecessary and uncalled for, and the wanton act of burning a town would not destroy the Rebellion nor reflect any credit upon those soldiers of the Union who fired it. Justice should overtake all, and severe punishment meted out to those who so far forget the bounds of propriety as to disgrace the honored cause in which they are engaged.

We did not arrive at Beaufort as soon as we expected, owing to a heavy storm of wind and rain which set in, and as our boats were old and so heavily laden it was not deemed prudent to venture outside in such a gale. The storm passed by and we reached our destination in safety on the morning of April 1st. We pitched our tents, expecting to settle down again; but the soldier has no abiding place in time of war, nor does he know one day where he will be the next. After thirty-five hours in Beaufort, we were off again on another “excursion.”

The rumors in camp seemed to indicate that this time the expedition was to be more formidable than any previous ones, and this was true, as the sequel will eventually prove. Large numbers of troops were being put on board steamers at this place and at Hilton Head; gunboats were active and all was bustle and excitement. The wildest rumors prevailed as to our destination; some asserted that we were going to Virginia, while others claimed Charleston as the most probable place of attack. The Sixth embarked on the steamer Belvidere and steamed down to Hilton Head, where we lay for one day awaiting orders; in the mean time troops were embarking and getting ready to sail. When all seemed ready, we were off for the conflict and came to anchor in Stono River, a little below the village of Legaresville. Here we found other troops had preceded us and were also waiting to land. The monitors and other gunboats were busily engaged up the river shelling the camps of the enemy. Two shots from the enemy came in rather too close proximity to our steamer for safety, and we hoisted anchor and dropped a distance down the river out of range. The gunboats were engaged nearly every day for a week in the direction of Charleston, while we remained on board ship awaiting orders. Finally it was rumored that there was some trouble existing between some of our officers high in command, and that the whole force was to be withdrawn. The rumor proved correct. Admiral Dupont and Gen. Hunter disagreeing in the plan of the battle, it could no longer avail anything and the whole affair proved a fizzle. In the meantime Gen. Hunter was relieved and Maj. Gen. Gilmore appointed to command. Gen. Gilmore was well known for his engineering skill and also his military prowess.

The morning of April 11th, the fleet withdrew to Hilton Head and reported, while the different regiments were sent to various posts. The Sixth encamped at Hilton Head, just outside the breastworks, where we remained till the 18th of April, when we again embarked and sailed for North Edisto, arriving there the next morning and anchored in the stream close to the dock, but we did not land till the 26th, when we were put ashore on Botany Bay Island, which is near the Edisto. We were immediately ordered out on a scout of about seven miles, after the Johnnies; but with the exception of passing a deserted cavalry camp we saw no evidence of the enemy. We returned to the landing and went on board the steamer, where we passed four more days, when we finally made a landing on Folly Island. The island was rightly named, for a man in civil life must indeed be a fool to think he could live on such a barren place; but a soldier is expected to live anywhere where he is sent. The island is a long strip of land about three-quarters of a mile wide at the widest point, and about four miles long, lying immediately south of Morris Island, from which the northern point is separated by only a narrow stream called Lighthouse Inlet. The lower part of the island runs down to a sharp angle and is covered with a thick growth of pine and palmetto trees, while the upper part was a low, marshy swamp. With swarms of sand fleas and mosquitoes for our constant companions, we pitched our camp on the sand hills; there could be no order or regularity to our company streets, for some tents were pitched on a hill, while others were in a valley. Our fatigue duty was quite arduous, as we were obliged to work nights, and had to maintain the utmost silence, speaking only in whispers. From the upper or northern portion of the island, where we built the batteries, we could see the Johnnies on Morris Island very plain; but they little thought of the doom that was in store for them. They suspected no serious movement on our part, and did not think we had more than one field piece on the whole island. When we were obliged to fell trees we sawed them in two and lowered them gently to the ground by means of ropes. All the heavy cannon were brought through the woods and mounted at night, and then masked by covering them with leaves and dirt. It was with the greatest secrecy that the work was pushed forward. The enemy saw none of our troops nearer than the woods except the picket line, and while we seemed idle by day, hundreds of shovels gleamed at night by willing hands, while battery after battery rose up, yet nothing was visible to the rebels. Huge mortars and parrot guns came from Hilton Head, landed at Stono Inlet and were dragged slowly and tediously to their place under cover of darkness. Ammunition was taken forward and concealed every night for over three weeks. The Sixth found its labors very severe. By moonlight and during heavy thunder showers the work went steadily forward. At the end of that time, ten large batteries had been completed, mounting 48 heavy guns and within 400 yards of the enemy’s works.

During the latter part of the time they began to suspect something was going on, for we could see them strengthen their batteries on the opposite bank. The rebel pickets were very inquisitive and tried to question us regarding our position, &c. We were on good terms with each other, and made miniature ships, freighted them with salt and coffee, and sent them over to the rebs, and in return they sent us tobacco. They informed us of the death of “Stonewall” Jackson, and displayed their flags at half mast and fired half hour guns throughout the day in honor of the deceased. They generally communicated to us the news of any battle that occurred sooner than we got it through our own sources. They seemed to relish a joke occasionally. One of them informed us that Gen. Beauregard had such an exalted opinion of the “Yankees” on Folly Island that he was coming over to make us a visit and give us all a “farm six feet by two.”

About the 1st of July large numbers of troops began to arrive at the island, and “old Folly” literally swarmed with them. The order was given for us to capture the battery on the end of Morris Island, and we expected to make a night attack, so we sewed pieces of white cotton cloth on the left arm, that we might be distinguished from the foe. At midnight on the 9th, large detachments of troops stepped quietly into boats and rowed silently up Folly River; not a word was spoken above a whisper, nor any noise heard, save the splashing of the oars and the occasional plunge of the alligators from the river bank. At about 3 o’clock the flotilla of eighty large launches had arrived near Morris Island, and we were ordered to keep close to shore and under cover of the tall sea grass that lined its banks. Here we waited patiently for the dawn of day,--a day that was to bring victory to our flag, but death to many a brave soldier. We could see from our position the rebel soldier lazily walking his beat on the parapet, while the smoke from the dim camp fires slowly ascended skyward. Everything indicated to us that they were not expecting cannon balls for breakfast nor the advent of the boys in blue. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the attack, looked every inch a soldier, as he moved among us giving cheering words to all. At precisely 5 o’clock, the batteries that we had worked on so faithfully for weeks, were unmasked to the enemy and opened simultaneously from 48 guns. The astonished rebels soon replied with great rapidity. As the ball opened, the inhabitants of Secessionville, on James Island, crowded to the roofs of the houses till they were black with them, to witness the battle. Our gunboats shelled the batteries with good effect, and the enemy discovering our position in the boats, scattered grape and cannister among us with fearful rapidity. There we lay in the boats for two hours under a heavy fire, while the rebels divided their compliments among us and the gunners at our batteries. The batteries did not seem to have the desired effect of dispersing the enemy, and Gen. Strong was signalled to land his forces and charge upon their works. The rebels perceiving the signal and interpreted its meaning, directed a galling fire at the boats. One boat of the Sixth was struck and a member of Co. “E” lost a leg which soon caused his death; another was wounded and the boat overturned, but was soon righted by help from others and the men rescued. We pulled for the shore, eager to land, and while a detachment of the Seventh Connecticut landed first on the left of the rifle pits and were feeling their way. The old Sixth sprang into the water knee deep and was soon directly in front of their battery; rushing forward with bayonets fixed and with an honest Union cheer. The rebels depressed their guns to rake us as we landed, but the shot struck the ground in front of us and passed over our heads, and the amazed rebels, seeing our determination, turned to flee just as we gained the first line of works, but we were too quick for them, and the Sixth captured 125 prisoners and a rebel flag. Private Roper Hounslow, of Co. “D,” saw the bearer of the flag making for the rear as fast as his legs could carry him, when he ordered him to halt; but he would not, and he shot him through the head. The flag was inscribed “Pocotaligo, Oct. 22, 1862.” It had blood stains upon it which were probably spilled at that place. Col. Chatfield waved the banner aloft, feeling very much elated to think we had captured the flag that bore this inscription, for he received a wound at Pocotaligo. Col. Chatfield led his men to the last range of rifle pits, which was within a rifle shot of Fort Wagner. The Sixth had the advance all day. Our flags were riddled with shell, and the staff of the stars and stripes was broken in three different places. A rebel ramrod was substituted for the broken staff, and our flags floated from the only house on the island. This house was the headquarters for the rebel officers, and when we entered it the coffee was in cups on the table and breakfast nearly ready; but we did not stop to eat, as we were looking for water; and seeing the coffee, disposed of it in short meter. Two solid shot from Fort Wagner came tearing through the house, demolishing the chimney and scattering the bricks upon the tables in great confusion. We concluded that we might be demolished if we remained in there long, so went out; the house being a good target, it was soon riddled with shell from Forts Sumpter and Wagner.

We remained at the front till about sunset, under a severe fire continually. Tired and footsore, with hardly anything to eat, and without sleep for three nights, we were glad when orders came for us to fall to the rear and another regiment to take our place. Gen. Strong was active all day and infused spirit into the soldiers by his commanding aspect. When we landed he was burdened with a pair of long military boots upon his feet, and as we jumped into the water these became so full that locomotion was well nigh impossible, so he pulled them off and threw them away, going in his stockings. The briars over the sand hills soon wore the bottoms of these off, and having captured a rebel mule, got astride of him and went forward with a cheer from the soldiers. Soon after the battle he appeared among the members of the Sixth, still astride the mule, who looked jaded enough. “Boys,” said he, “I don’t look like a General, but you look and have acted like true soldiers,” and immediately rode away, followed by the cheers of the soldiers.

It was determined to assault Fort Wagner and capture it with the bayonet. The Seventh Connecticut was to lead the charge, supported by the Ninth Maine and Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania. Early on the morning of the 11th, before the lark was awake, this command silently moved forward, drove in the rebel pickets and with a cheer rushed into the ditch and up the parapet, but met a very stubborn foe, who poured grape and cannister into their ranks. The Ninth Maine, instead of supporting them, wavered, at such a fearful fire, and ran away, while the Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania stood their ground. But the battle was against fearful odds, and they were obliged to retire and give up the contest. The Sixth lay all night in the rifle pits before Wagner, in a drenching rain, keeping a sharp look out for any surprise. On the morning of the 18th they came into camp wet and covered with sand, weary enough to lay up for a rest; but there is no rest for the soldier in time of war. Scarcely had we brushed off the sand and got a bite of pork and crackers before we were ordered to join in the assault on Wagner at dark. Never was an order more cheerfully obeyed, especially as the word passed around that Col. Chatfield was to lead us into action, the Colonel declaring his preference “to stand or fall with the men of the Sixth,” and refusing the honor of commanding our brigade, which belonged to him as the ranking officer. The gunboats shelled the rebel fort incessantly, plowing up great heaps of sand with one shell, and another perhaps would fill up the crevice. The broadsides from the New Ironsides were terrific, and the five monitors in line, together with five other gunboats, seemed to pour shell enough into Wagner to start several first class iron foundries. Shot and shell crashed above and within it and we wondered if half of them accomplished their mission. Before night came, hardly a gun boomed from Wagner, and many seemed to think an easy victory was within reach. As twilight approached the whole command lay under cover of the sand hills, waiting for the order to advance. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts (colored regiment) were given the post of honor, the right of the first brigade, which position belonged to the Sixth; but at the request of Col. Shaw of the Fifty-fourth, who wanted the black troops to distinguish themselves, Col. Chatfield granted them their wish. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the charge, then addressed them. He said, “Men of Massachusetts, I am going to put you in front of the chivalry of South Carolina, and they will pour iron hail in your faces; but don’t flinch; defend the flag and uphold the honor of the State of Massachusetts.” He further told them “the Sixth Connecticut was immediately behind them, and I know they will not flinch.” They fell upon one knee in the sand and with their right arm raised, they swore they would do it.

The command formed silently on the beach; the men seemed impatient to move as the scene became exciting. “Close column, by companies,” was the order given, and the first brigade was off for its work. Steadily forward we moved, while the gunboats still roared away. At a given signal they ceased their fire and the order passed to charge. The rebels waited till we were within range and then poured a volley into our ranks from their guns on the parapet, while the riflemen rattled their bullets from the small arms. The Fifty-fourth wavered for a moment, and that moment was fatal to them; they broke and fled. On pressed the Sixth through the iron hail, picked our way through the abatis, descended the ditch and climbed up the steep sides of the fort, and gaining the parapet, was among the rebels. The flash of a thousand rifles poured into us, followed in quick succession by hand grenades. Shrapnel, cannister and grape were freely showered into the ranks, while we leaped down to the casemates and bomb-proofs, driving the enemy before us in great confusion. They entered their rifle pits and checked our further advance. The night was so dark it was hard to distinguish friend from foe, and a signal from the rebels turned the fire of Fort Sumpter and Battery Gregg upon the angle of the fort which we held. In vain did we look for help from the second brigade. Many a brave soldier had sealed his loyalty with his blood, and Gens. Strong and Seymour, Col. Chatfield and others, were badly wounded and carried to the rear. We were virtually without any commanding officer to lead us. To wait for daylight would have been sheer madness, and the supporting brigade, terrified by the deadly cannonade, instead of relying upon the bayonet to accomplish the work, stopped and fired. The rebels saw the mistake and rallied upon the Sixth, which stood almost alone within their works. The charge was repulsed, but after remaining for about three hours under such a deadly fire, we escaped as best we could, with terrible loss. Had the second brigade supported us in time, no doubt we could have held it. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment rallied soon after they faltered and came up to the left angle of the fort, where they finally did good service. Here Col. Shaw met his death. The Sixth Regiment and the Connecticut colors were the first in the fort that night. The color-bearer, a German named Gustave DeBouge, was shot through the forehead while carrying the colors in the assault, and fell dead upon the flag, his life blood staining them through. Several brave ones who were near seized them, but they also fell either dead or wounded. Captain Frederick B. Osborn of Co. “K,” as brave an officer as ever wore shoulder straps, finally succeeded in pulling them from under the bodies and bearing them off in triumph. Our flags were much shattered and torn, but both were saved from the enemy.

In leaving Wagner that night, the ditch we crossed was filled with the dead and wounded, and we were compelled to step upon their bodies in making our escape. Many fell wounded upon the beach, and as the salt water surged over their bodies and in their wounds, their groans and cries were terrible to hear. Men begged piteously to others more fortunate, to remove them out of reach of the incoming tide. Our return to camp was attended with almost as much danger as our advance, and many brave men who were spared through the terrible ordeal in the fort, were either killed or wounded in returning to the rear. Every foot of ground seemed to be covered by the fire of the enemy’s guns. Batteries Gregg and Wagner, Forts Johnson, Ripley and Sumpter, besides two gunboats in the harbor, all directed their missiles of death to further our destruction while retreating; and how so many of us were spared through such a terrible conflict, can be attributed only to the goodness of our Heavenly Father. Truly the God of battles was on our side.

Our loss was quite heavy, considering the force engaged; the Sixth being exposed to the deadliest fire, their ranks were pretty well thinned out and the total figures footed up to 141 killed, wounded and missing. Many of the wounded brought off the field died the next day. Among the killed was Lieut. Stevens of Co. “I,” a cannister shot passing through his heart. He was Ass’t Adjutant General on Gen. Seymour’s staff, a position he filled with great ability. Having made military matters a study for a number of years his services were valuable to the government. His body was brought off the field and buried beneath one of the lone palmettos. A large influx of surgeons arrived from the North a few days after the battle, many of whom were mere boys, having hardly attained their majority, without experience, and many without common sense, came to Morris Island to assist in caring for the wounded. A slight wound in the limb was sufficient cause for them to amputate, and many suffered amputation of limbs that with proper treatment could have been spared to them. The writer saw a surgeon’s table improvised on a sand bluff, where these “would-be-surgeons” were using the scalpel knife in severing the arms and legs of the wounded, and a great pile lay beside them. Many a victim protested against this outrage, but was told that it was the only thing that would prolong life. The victims in many cases died soon after the operation.

Fatigue duty fell unusually hard upon the troops on the island, and every night found the Sixth in the trenches, building batteries or hauling heavy guns to the front. Under fire every day and night, the regiment suffered the loss of many members by wounds and death. While at the front one day a flag of truce came from Wagner, borne by a rebel Captain named Tracy. Capt. Tracy of the Sixth met him and found that he wanted to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners. Gen. Vogdes was informed and the terms agreed upon. On Friday, July 24, a large steamer bearing our wounded, came down the harbor and ran alongside of one of the monitors. It was said she was a blockade runner and had recently ran the blockade. Upon her decks were Englishmen dressed in the height of fashion, talking loudly of the superior intellect of the southern chivalry. The steamer Cosmopolitan, which had recently been fitted up as a hospital ship, ran alongside and delivered up the rebel wounded and the rebels gave us 205 Union soldiers. They also reported that they had amputated the limbs of 25 and that 50 had died on their hands. We also learned that they were so indignant because our government employed negro troops, that when they found Col. Shaw’s body they dug a deep trench and put the body in and then threw 25 dead negroes top of it. This circumstance we learned to be a fact, the pickets in our front having reported the same thing to us.

The Sixth Regiment, so shattered in the charge of the 18th and depleted in numbers, was ordered to Hilton Head to recruit and care for the large numbers who were wounded. We landed there on the 31st of July, commanded by Captain Tracy, who was senior Captain in the regiment and highest officer for duty. While at the Head the news came to us of the death of Gen. Strong and Col. Chatfield, both having gone North to recruit their health. The men of the Sixth cherished very great affection for their beloved Colonel, and were grieved to hear of his untimely death.

Col. Chatfield was born at Oxford, Conn., in 1826; was the son of Pulaski and Amanda Chatfield. He was apprenticed to the carpenter business in Derby, where he served four years at his trade; after which he worked as a journeyman. In 1855, having moved to Waterbury, he was associated with a brother in building, and the firm was widely and favorably known. Always upright, a man of sterling integrity, prompt and honorable in all his dealings, he possessed the confidence and esteem of all with whom he came in contact.

Col. Chatfield was born a soldier; he commenced as a private in the Derby Blues and was active in raising the Waterbury City Guard, and afterwards became its Captain. His service with the three months troops was a fine school in which to display his military genius, and he caught the true military spirit, which he seemed to infuse into his fellow soldiers. Subsequently, becoming Colonel of the Sixth, he brought it to a state of discipline second to none in the service. The early part of the service seemed too much for him, and he remained at Annapolis, an invalid, while the regiment was sent on the expedition, but joined it again in January, 1862. At Pocotaligo he received a cannister shot in his right thigh, but recovered sufficiently to join us again in April, when for a time he was placed by Gen. Hunter in command of the forces at Hilton Head. After serving there for some time, he was relieved at his own request and permitted to join in the operations on Morris Island. In the charge on Fort Wagner he was wounded in the leg, and in attempting to drag himself out, was hit a second time in his right hand, which knocked his sword out of his grasp. He was carried to the rear by Private Andrew H. Grogan of Co. “I,” and Chaplain Woodruff procured transportation for him to his home. He spoke very feelingly in regard to the charge of his regiment, and inquired if the colors were safe. Being informed that all that was left of them was brought off the field, his eyes glistened as he replied, “Thank God for that; I am so glad they are safe; keep them as long as there is a thread left.” He was sent home on a steamer, but the journey was exhausting to him and probably hastened his death.

He passed away from his earthly labors August 10, surrounded by his family. Just before his death a gleam of consciousness was visible, and looking up he recognized his weeping family, and expressed his entire willingness and readiness to depart, and died with hardly a struggle. Had Col. Chatfield lived he would have distinguished himself, and no doubt risen high in rank; his record a knight might envy. His noble deeds and eminently Christian character will ever be fresh in the memory of the members of the old Sixth Regiment.

CHAPTER VI.

After the death of Col. Chatfield, Redfield Duryee was appointed Colonel of the Sixth, rising from Adjutant to that position at a single step. He had been North on recruiting service for eighteen months previous to his appointment, but after securing that position he hastened to join the regiment in the field. The appointment was not received very pleasantly by the officers of the Sixth, nor by the privates, who expressed much dissatisfaction at his appointment. Those who had been with the regiment through thick and thin and had borne the brunt of the battles, were more justly entitled to promotion to that position than Redfield Duryee, who had been home for half of his term of enlistment. But merit is not always justly rewarded, and the appointment had to be endured, although it was not according to our taste. Our new colonel enjoined upon the regiment severe drills and guard duties, while it was tasked severely and laboriously with fatigue duty every day and often far into the night. We found it difficult to endure the loss of Col. Chatfield. Few men, living in the midst of such temptations as army life afforded, could resist so practically the attractions that led so many good men astray; yet he stood as a beacon light, and his counsel and judgment were often sought by those who were his superiors in rank. Had Col. Chatfield lived, the entire regiment would no doubt have re-enlisted; but as the command passed into other hands, the number did not exceed 200 who consented to remain till the close of the war. Lieut. Col. Speidel and Capt. Leach resigned their commissions and left the regiment in August, 1863. Ill health was the cause of their resignations.

Col. Speidel never fully recovered from the wound received at Pocotaligo, and the regiment was loth to part with him, as he endeared himself to the boys by his soldierly bearing and commanding ways. He was a brave officer and never flinched on the field, but always inspired the men with true courage and patriotism.

October 20th, five companies of the Sixth went on provost guard duty, relieving the Eighth Maine. We occupied the provost building and had charge of a large number of rebel prisoners, as well as others from Union regiments, who had been guilty of some crime known to military law. Among the rebel prisoners was a Captain Monroe whom the Sixth captured, with others, on Morris Island. He was son of the Mayor of Charleston, and a most bitter and uncompromising rebel. He evinced no desire to shake hands over the “bloody chasm,” but, on the contrary, was bitterly opposed to the Union and to the hireling soldiers employed by Lincoln. He raved and stormed in the guard house like a mad bull, and swore he would fight us to the bitter end whenever he should be exchanged or released. He was taken to some Northern prison with about 100 other prisoners, a guard from the Sixth accompanying them.

Volunteering having partially subsided in the State, and as the government was in need of more troops, drafting commenced in other States as well as in Connecticut. The Sixth received about 200 men in October; some were conscripts and others drafted men, as but few volunteered for the service. Their advent was not hailed with much pleasure or satisfaction by the old regiment, as they claimed that “forced” men would not fight and could not be trusted in case of an emergency. Some were vile roughs and were frequently in the guard house; while others manifested a disposition to do their duty, and did make very good soldiers. Three of the substitutes deserted from the regiment while on picket, but were captured and placed in close confinement at the provost guard house. While there they succeeded in getting away twice; the first time they were found in Ossanabaw Sound and were returned to the post, where they were tried for desertion before a court martial, of which Capt. Tracy of the Sixth was president, found guilty and sentenced to be shot to death by musketry. They were then chained hand and foot to a post inside of the provost quarters; and, notwithstanding these precautions, together with a strong guard, they succeeded in getting away again. They took a boat near the pier and made off; but while in Warsaw sound near the shore, their boat grounded and they were captured by a picket boat from the gunboat Patapsco. They were very bold, ingenious men, and their skill and perseverance might have won them honor if rightly applied. The culprits were Germans by birth: privates Henry Schumaker, of Co. “C,” Henry Stark, of Co. “E,” and Gustav Hoofan, of Co. “B.”

In the case of the latter an error was discovered in writing his name, the name Hoofan having been written Hoffman by the Judge Advocate. Col. Duryee wishing to be merciful to the full extent consistent with duty, availed himself of this technical error and protested against his execution. This protest was allowed, and he was saved from death and ordered to return to duty with his regiment. The man was more than pleased at this announcement, but the Judge Advocate, a lieutenant of the Eighty-fifth Pennsylvania regiment, was severely censured in general orders for his inexcusable carelessness and fatal error.

The following order was issued to the troops for the execution of the deserters:

General Orders, No. 7.

Headquarters Hilton Head,  
Hilton Head, S. C., April 16, 1864.

In obedience to General Orders No. 50, Department of the South, Hilton Head, S. C., April 15, 1864, the sentence of private Henry Schumaker, of Co. “C,” and private Henry Stark, Co. “E,” Sixth regiment Connecticut Volunteers, who were tried before a court martial assembled at Hilton Head, S. C., March 4, 1864, for the crime of desertion, and were sentenced to be shot to death with musketry, will be carried into execution at this Post on Sunday the 17th day of April, 1864, at three o’clock P. M., on the field beyond the causeway and in the presence of all the troops of this command. All fatigue work within the line of the entrenchments will be suspended on that day during the afternoon, and every officer and man not upon the sick list or upon other duty, will be present. The firing party will be furnished by the Sixth Connecticut Volunteers. Capt. E. S. Babcock, 9th U. S. C. T., Provost Marshal, will make the necessary arrangements for the execution. The several regiments and detachments comprising the command will report at two o’clock P. M. to Lieut. Woodruff, A. A. D. C., who will be stationed there to direct them to their positions.

By order of Col. REDFIELD DURYEE,

Walter Fitch,
 1st Lieut. 6th Conn. Vols., Post Adj.

Official:

D. A. Woodruff,
 1st Lieut. 6th Conn. Vols., A. A. D. C.

As soon as the time had been fixed for their execution they were visited by the Provost Marshal, who informed them of their fate and advised them to prepare for death. They seemed stolid and indifferent at first, but upon reflection they gave way to their feelings and desired to have a priest sent to them (they were both Roman Catholics), and Rev. Mr. Hasson, a Catholic priest who was in the department, was sent for and ministered to them. It was for a long time difficult to convince them that their case was hopeless, but Mr. Hasson’s arguments finally forced conviction, and, after hearing their confession twice, he performed all the rites of the Church that were practicable. The prisoners were taken from their cells at about two o’clock, placed in army wagons and seated on the coffins in which they were to be buried. The column was formed as follows:

Capt. E. S. Babcock, Provost Marshal, mounted.
Capt. J. P. King, Asst. Provost Marshal, mounted.
Drum Corps in two ranks.
Firing Party of 24 men detailed from 6th Conn.
The Prisoners in wagon seated on their coffins.
Ambulance containing Rev. Mr. Hasson, and Chaplain Woodruff, of the 6th Conn.; Rev. Mr. Taylor of the Christian Commission; the Surgeon of the Provost guard house, and the Surgeon of the 6th Connecticut.

The funeral escort, consisting of a corporal and eight men, marched to funeral music, with arms reversed. Slowly the procession proceeded to the appointed place; the square was formed on three sides, and the victims were driven around once that all might see them and avoid their fate. They maintained a calm demeanor to all, except as they passed our regiment they took off their caps several times to their old comrades. On reaching the end of the square they were assisted to alight from the wagons, the coffins were placed on the ground, the culprits sitting down upon them while the Provost Marshal read the charges, findings and sentence. After a short prayer by the priest they were blindfolded and their hands tied behind them and made to kneel upon their coffins, facing the center of the square. The firing party came up and were halted at six paces distant, when, at a signal from Capt. Babcock, they fired and the victims fell upon their coffins. Schumaker was pierced with nine bullets and Stark with eight. They lay just as they had fallen till the whole command marched past them on the way to camp, when they were put into the coffins and buried.

On the 20th of April, Capt. Lewis C. Allen, Jr., died of disease. He was formerly a member of a militia company in Georgia, and afterwards removing to New Haven, was drill officer of the New Haven Blues. He went out as 1st Lieut. in Capt. Root’s company in the Third three months troops, and later as captain of the “Brewster Rifles,” Co. “F,” of the Sixth regiment. He participated in all the battles of the regiment, and was looked upon as a brave and efficient officer by all the regiment and was much esteemed by his own company for his uniform courtesy and gentlemanly bearing.

Lieut. Col. Klein, with the re-enlisting veterans of the regiment, were given a thirty days furlough after re-enlisting; they sailed for the North and were received in New Haven with demonstrations of respect, escorted to Music Hall, where Mayor Tyler addressed a welcome to the returning soldiers, after which they sat down to a banquet provided for them.

The regiment remained at Hilton Head through the fall and winter months of ’63 and ’64, engaging in an occasional scout after the Johnnies, drilling and doing fatigue duty in various ways. If a battery was to be built or earthworks thrown up, the Sixth was sure to have a hand in it. Many of our officers having resigned and our ranks being depleted by disease, we were finally ordered, with our corps, to join Butler on the James River, and we bade adieu to South Carolina on the 27th of April, 1864, and sailed for our new scene of labor and strife. We arrived at Hampton Roads after due time and landed at Gloucester Point, opposite Yorktown. Here we found large numbers of troops encamped in very close proximity to each other, and indications pointed to a general advance along the line. The redoubtable Ben seemed in his element and was busy from morning till far into the night, making the necessary preparations for the conflict. Our corps (the 10th), and the 18th corps, under Gen. W. F. Smith, were ordered to pack up all the surplus clothing belonging to the officers and men, and the cooks were divested of all their cooking utensils except two camp kettles. Large quantities of clothes and goods were put in boxes and barrels and shipped to Norfolk, where they were to be stored; but, unfortunately, the steamer containing the goods of the Sixth sprung a leak and sank, the crew barely escaping with their lives. Butler ordered the command to go as light as possible in regard to clothing and effects, and the rations were cut down to such extent that we were to be deprived of many articles that were palatable to a soldier. Beef, beans and potatoes were excluded from our bill of fare, and bacon and salt pork were to be more freely used. Half rations of soap and full rations of whiskey and quinine were among the items which were considered necessary for our comfort, and lastly, two pairs of Uncle Sam’s brogans were ordered for each man, fearing, perhaps, that the sacred mud of Virginia might draw off one pair while experiencing a march after a gentle fall of dew.

May 4th, the whole command embarked at Gloucester Point and ascended the James. The infantry, artillery and cavalry numbered about 25,000 men, all told. The gunboats went up the river a day earlier than the transports. The scenery along the banks of the James was indeed beautiful; the corn and cotton crops were growing splendidly; large fields in cultivation met the eye on every hand, and everything clearly indicated that Johnny Reb did not expect us quite so soon. The steamers were crowded with the troops, and the bunting streaming from the masts and rigging was a pleasing sight to all beholders. If the enemy saw this advance of Butler’s army coming they could not but dread the results.

The 6th of May the entire force landed at Bermuda Hundred and pushed inland. The day was extremely warm and the extra pair of brogans that “Bennie” made us take were soon thrown off, as well as blankets and knapsacks,--anything to lighten our load. The march through the woods and fields was strewed with these articles, but none could tell whether they would ever be needed again, for we wist not what was before us. We marched about eight miles and halted for the night in a piece of pine woods, where we threw up a rude entrenchment to cover us against a sudden attack. The night passed with no general alarm, although the advance pickets skirmished with the enemy. We were up betimes in the morning and on the move, passing many swamps and deep morasses, which made progress slow. A large detachment were felling trees to make passage for the artillery through the woods and swamps.

On the 9th of May our division moved on to the Petersburg & Richmond R. R., at Chester station, where we cut the telegraph wires and tore up the track, burning the ties and poles. Our brigade pried up the rails as we stood close together, and tumbled them down a steep bank. Over a half mile of track was thus disposed of at a time. We destroyed about three miles of the track at this time and guarded the turnpike and all approaches, while the 18th army corps engaged the rebels near Richmond, but with little success, except to find their position. The next day Gen. D. H. Hill’s corps advanced from Richmond and our forces engaged them all along the line. After a sharp contest which continued over two hours, the rebels withdrew from the field and we retired a short distance to the rear. The casualties of the Sixth were one killed (Capt. Jay P. Wilcox), twenty wounded and four missing.

Captain Wilcox left Waterbury as a private soldier in the Sixth, but was soon promoted to the rank of corporal and thence passed rapidly to that of captain. As an officer, Capt. Wilcox gained the honor and respect of all under his command. Resolute, bold and fearless, he proved an honor to the cause, and the Union lost one of its noblest defenders.

On the 14th of May the Sixth was ordered, with the rest of the corps, to advance to Proctor’s Creek, near Drury’s Bluff, at which place we arrived after little skirmishing. We halted near the edge of a piece of woods, expecting to remain but a short time; but Gen. Butler ordered the Quartermasters to bring up all camp equipage and establish our camps there before commencing operations still farther in advance. We knew, however, that we could not advance very much farther except by bringing on a general engagement, as the enemy were strongly entrenched a short distance from us, as we could see them working on their batteries every day. The evening of the 15th the Sixth occupied the extreme front at the center of the line, on picket. The night passed with but little firing on either side. Just before daylight, while a thick fog prevailed, the rebels massed their forces and made a very determined dash in our front, charging upon us furiously, shouting with that peculiar yell so characteristic of the Johnnies. We knew they outnumbered us, and to stand alone as a picket line would be of no avail; yet we emptied our rifles at them several times and fell slowly back upon the reserve. They proved too strong for our corps and it gave way gradually. We did not “retreat,” but “changed front to the rear,” and contested every foot of ground; but the enemy knowing our strength, forced us back slowly but surely. The turnpike being the safest ground to pass over, was besieged by the troops; ambulances carrying the wounded, negro men and women, rebel prisoners and Union soldiers filled the roadway, while heads of staff were busy issuing orders to the different regiments to form here and there to check the rebel advance. One regiment would file in a piece of woods; another made a stand in a ravine, while our batteries limbered up to get a better position and the whole force resisted bravely the attack. We were forced back about six miles, and, as night came on, the battle ended.

The loss on our side was much larger than that of the rebels. The Sixth suffered severely, considering the numbers engaged: seven killed and fifty-three wounded. Among the wounded were Lieut. Col. Meeker, Captains Charles H. Nichols and John N. Tracy, Lieutenants Bennett S. Lewis, Charles J. Buckbee and Norman Provost. Capt. Horatio D. Eaton, of Hartford, was killed while encouraging his men forward. He served through the three months campaign and afterwards went out as lieutenant of the Sixth. He was greatly beloved at home by a large circle of friends, and possessed the esteem of the regiment. Capt. Biebel and twenty others were captured by the enemy.

The day after this battle the men of the Sixth who had re-enlisted came back from their furlough and reported for duty, but found our position rather warmer than they anticipated,--quite unlike the scenes they had just left at the North. We threw up entrenchments every night, working till morning dawned, and the Johnnies were unceasing in their efforts to dislodge us, many of the men being wounded while at work. The picket line was relieved always at night, and we were invariably shelled while going on that duty. After being posted on the lines things generally quieted down, as the distance between the rebel and Union pickets was often less than three rods. Conversation was kept up and exchanges of newspapers frequently took place, as well as the usual exchange of “terbacker” for coffee.

The old Sixth was again engaged on the 20th of May with the enemy; the Johnnies fought stubbornly and seemed determined on driving us back. We held our ground, but made no advance. After about four hours they were repulsed and fell back. Lieut. Bradley and two privates were mortally wounded, and died soon after being brought into camp. Thirty-two of the regiment were wounded and one missing. Thus the ranks of the Sixth were constantly reduced by these frequent skirmishes, and duty fell pretty severe upon those who were able to perform it. Scarcely an hour passed, day or night, without being shelled by the enemy, and rest seemed out of the question. The pale faces and haggard looks of the men told too plainly what they endured. Yet few reproached the cause in which they were engaged. There is very little poetry and a good deal of hard work in an active campaign.

Col. Redfield Duryee resigned his commission on the 27th of May, as failing health, it is said, incapacitated him for active service in the field. The captain of the 1st Connecticut Battery, Alfred P. Rockwell, was chosen to fill the place. Col. Rockwell was brave and fearless, and held in esteem by the members of the Sixth.

The 2nd of June the enemy again tried to force our lines and did drive back some portion of the 3d New Hampshire, but they were repulsed and the line regained. The artillery duel on both sides waged hot for a few hours, and it was difficult to determine which would come out best in the end. One rebel colonel was killed and brought within our lines, and a lieutenant and twenty-six men deserted to us, being, as they said, tired of the war. The loss to the Sixth was only three wounded.

Part of the command, including the Sixth, were sent across the Appomatox River on the 9th of June, to engage the enemy at a certain point, while the cavalry destroyed a railroad. We came upon the outposts of the enemy, drove them in, were subjected to a severe shelling, but with slight loss on our side. The cavalry, it was said, accomplished its object, and the next day found us back to our old line of works. One morning the videttes reported that the enemy had evacuated their line of rifle pits on our front, and the orders were issued for our corps to advance and make a reconnoissance, which we did. Finding their line deserted, we pushed forward and skirmished with them, they falling back all the while evidently to get us into an ambuscade. We fell back to the line evacuated by the rebels and awaited results. The sharpshooters annoyed us exceedingly all day, being posted in the trees, and their clothing was so near the color of the bark of the trees that it was difficult to discover their position. The enemy gave us a vigorous shelling early in the afternoon; and as that nearly always preceded an advance, the whole line awaited anxiously the result. The Johnnies were soon discovered slowly approaching through the woods directly in front of the Sixth. They rushed forward with a yell, but did not find us unprepared to meet them. The bullets flew lively for a time, and the rebels swayed backward, but soon rallied and rushed forward in large numbers, forcing back the Union lines and regaining their rifle pits. Their numbers must have been very much larger than ours, and they evidently expected we would take their pits when they fell back, and no doubt had a plan laid to gobble us all up; but our commander displayed that wisdom requisite for the occasion. We retired, however, with considerable loss. The Sixth lost in this engagement 5 killed, 16 wounded and 18 missing. Capt. Nichols was captured by the enemy.

The weather was excessively warm and no exertion was required to produce perspiration. The thermometer on June 22d rose to 103 degrees in the shade. We were apprised of the fact that our worthy President, Abraham Lincoln, was near us, and all that were not engaged on duty were ordered to appear near the regimental quarters and render a proper salute. He came on horseback, attended by Gen. Butler and staff. The troops greeted him pleasantly and gave hearty cheers along the whole line. The President looked careworn and troubled. Undoubtedly the trials through which the nation was passing had much to do with his depression of spirits.

The next day we received some rebel papers which had an article headed, “What mean those cheers?” In allusion to the cheers which they distinctly heard, they inferred that we had received some good news of a recent Union victory; but as no such information had come to them through their sources, they finally came to the conclusion that it must be some scheme made known to the troops from the fertile brain of that “beefy, bloated Massachusetts Yankee,” as they called Gen. Butler.

Sheridan’s cavalry were at the “White House,” and were ordered to join Grant at the rear of Petersburg on the 25th of June. Some of our division were sent over the Appomatox to cover his retreat. The Sixth Connecticut and Third New Hampshire regiments formed a part of the force employed for that purpose, which returned to camp after their mission was accomplished. Sergt. Andrew Grogan, of Co. “I,” who had been but recently promoted to 2d Lieutenant, went on the picket line on the evening of June 29, in charge of the pickets of the Sixth. The rebels fired upon the line, wounding Lieut. Grogan in the thigh. He was carried to camp and the surgeons found it necessary to amputate the limb to save his life. The operation was performed successfully and he fully recovered. Lieut. Grogan was exemplary in his habits and was a consistent Christian; respected and loved by the regiment, and it was with sorrow that we were obliged to part with his services. It will be remembered that Lieut. Grogan bore Col. Chatfield from Fort Wagner after the Colonel was twice wounded in that memorable assault on the night of July 18th.

Gen. Butler issued an order calling for volunteers for fatigue duty upon his famous Dutch Gap Canal, offering eight cents an hour extra pay and two rations of whisky each day. The work was very laborious, the enemy keeping a continuous fire upon the working parties, which together with the excessive heat, rendered the service anything but desirable; yet many availed themselves of the offer. The pickets were strengthened and the reserve made secure to prevent any sudden dash upon the working parties; while our gunboats in the James rendered effective service in dispersing these advances. The Johnnies were pretty sure to retire if the gunboats sent their compliments. Some of the captured rebels affirmed that they could stand any ordinary shelling, but when our navy sent a whole “blacksmith shop, with forge and bellows complete,” they thought it was time to “change front to the rear.”

The report that Gen. A. P. Hill, of the rebel army, was advancing south of Richmond in the direction of Petersburg, aroused our General commanding, and Gen. Smith’s corps was ordered on the move. The Sixth was accordingly ordered to cook up the usual three days rations. We left the front shortly after midnight on the morning of the 14th of August, and at about 5 o’clock Sunday morning we crossed the James River on the pontoons, drove in the advance pickets and rapidly pushed forward, skirmishing with the enemy at different points. We soon heard the rebel yell, and the enemy came pouring upon us with all their fury. Our regiment, divested of knapsacks, immediately charged upon them and captured two lines of rebel earthworks, driving the enemy before us at a place called Strawberry Plains, near Malvern Hill. We skirmished with the enemy all day, and when night came on our division occupied Hancock’s old works near the hill, and gladly availed ourselves of a chance to lay down, but not to sleep, as that would have been a luxury not to be entertained. Owing to the excessive heat of the day, many fell from the ranks completely exhausted. So severe had been our campaign in Virginia, in its marches and fatigue duty, that the Sixth mustered but few men for duty. We were continually on the move; and often, in our midnight marches, some would fall asleep while in the ranks, and as soon as the order was given to halt and rest, the entire regiment would fall down where it stood, and sleep during the few moments allotted for rest.

The Sixth moved again on the 15th of August and fought the battle known as Deep Run. We were posted in the woods with Hawley’s brigade, looking for the position of the enemy; but the woods were so dense that we could scarcely stand in line. The rebel earthworks were in our front, but their exact position or strength was unknown to the brigade. We fixed bayonets and cocked our rifles preparatory to an advance and charge. Gen. Terry informed us in whispers, as near as he could, the location of the enemy, and directed us to creep through the underbrush till we came to a certain tree, and then charge. The word “forward” was given and the brigade moved through the woods as fast as the tangled underbrush would permit. The enemy discovered our advance ere we had proceeded far, and with a loud yell they opened fire from howitzers and musketry. The latter was terrific, and the bullets skipped through the leaves of the trees in terrible volleys. In passing through the woods we came to an opening which was made by the trees being felled and brush cleared away. About twenty rods in our front ranged a strong earthwork, behind which the rebels were strongly posted, and in the front was a huge abatis almost defying any approach. On went our brigade with a cheer, tumbling through the abatis and picking our way as best we could amid a furious storm of bullets; but the desperate rebels held their works till they saw us clear of the abatis and knew that we were coming for them, when they turned and fled; but we were too quick for some of them. Springing upon them in their pits we had a hand to hand combat, till they saw it was useless to hold out longer and a few surrendered, while the main body skedaddled through a corn field into a piece of woods. Beyond this point we did not proceed, as a deep ravine skirted the edge of the field, and beyond this the enemy were massing their scattered forces preparatory to regaining what they had lost.

With our force engaged and with the rebel force in front, it was deemed imprudent to remain on the captured ground and we fell back slowly, harrassed by the rebel sharpshooters. Once they charged upon our line, forcing us back with greater speed than we cared to travel on that hot day; and, although we did not run, we executed “some pretty tall walking.” A second dash made upon us we repelled with a few bullets, which prevented any further trouble from them. They recaptured their lost works and, doubtless, considered themselves the victors. Our captures amounted to about 200 prisoners and two stands of colors. The Sixth lost in this action five killed, sixty-nine wounded and eleven missing. Among the wounded were Captains Bennett S. Lewis, John Slottlar and Dwight A. Woodruff (severely), and Lieutenants John Waters, Joseph Miller and George Bellows. Capt. Woodruff suffered the amputation of his arm and endured severe pain for a few weeks, till released by death. He entered the army as a private and was steadily promoted for good conduct. He was brave and faithful, beloved by the regiment, and his untimely death was regretted by all. The color guard of the Sixth was worsted in this engagement, the sergeant with two corporals were wounded, and one was overcome by the heat. The remaining corporal, Edward S. Downs, seized the flag and brought it off the field in safety.

The second day after this engagement the rebels, emboldened by the fact of the Union lines not being advanced, made a simultaneous attack all along our lines, and drove in our pickets, but were repulsed after a sharp skirmish, and they were glad enough to retire. The corps fell back about two miles at night to a former position occupied by us, and at seven o’clock orders came for us to march again. It had been raining quite hard, and that Virginia mud was decidedly uncomfortable to march in. The artillery often got stuck in the mud and the command was necessarily delayed. After a wearisome march of seven hours we crossed the Appomatox river at Point of Rocks and resumed our march to the Weldon R. R. near Ream’s Station, in the rear of Petersburg.

Here we were again posted at the front. The Sixth occupied one side of the railroad track with the rebels on the other. Tents were out of the question. When a regiment moves from one place to another and halts for a season, to use a military term, “we pitch our tents;” but in this Virginia campaign tents were obsolete, and the term now used was, “we dug our holes.” Tents served to attract the enemy and draw their fire, and it was very unsafe to sleep in one even if we could do so; but in the holes in the ground we felt comparatively secure. It was rather a ludicrous sight to a casual observer to find an army of men burrowing in holes in the earth like so many woodchucks, and yet such was the fact. The whole of Grant’s line, extending from the south of Petersburg along the line of the Appomatox River down across Bermuda Hundred to the James, the army, when not engaged, were inside the “rat holes,” as the boys termed them. Some of these holes held a corporal’s guard, while others only served for two or three. They were hastily made, without any regard to architectural proportions, and yet not so deep but that they could be quickly evacuated.

Shelling from the rebels and from our side was kept up day after day and night after night for weeks, and when the tired soldier had a few moments to sleep he quickly availed himself of it, and no amount of shelling would disturb his slumbers; but let the clear notes of the bugle sound through the air and he was quickly at his post. We knew the bugle call meant work; either some advance was threatened, or the line ordered to move to another quarter. It required but little time to pack up our household goods, and we were not required to run after drays to load them, but the clothes we wore were our bedding, and any hole we found when night overtook us was our bed, with the sky for a covering and with a consciousness that we were battling for the right, made sleep attractive to the Union soldier.

Gen. Hawley’s brigade was ordered out on the morning of Sept. 3d to witness the execution of a soldier of the 7th Connecticut by hanging. The brigade formed three sides of a hollow square around the gallows and saw the victim yield up his life at the end of a rope. He had some real or fancied grudge against a man, and on the battle-field of Olustee, Fla., he took the opportunity to murder him, thinking, no doubt, the exciting scenes on the field would cover up his crime; but he was detected, tried before a drum-head court martial, found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging, and the day above mentioned the sentence was carried out. Another scene witnessed by our regiment, took place soon after, which was the act of drumming a soldier out of camp for cowardice on the battle field. The soldier was a private of Co. “I,” of the Sixth, who was convicted of cowardice by refusing to fight, and skulked to the rear. His head was shaved and the word “coward,” painted on a board, was put on his back, and he was marched through the brigade, with the drum corps playing the Rogue’s March.

The Sixth remained in the trenches around Petersburg, indulging in frequent skirmishing and entrenching themselves, occasionally holding short confabs with the rebel pickets, getting their views on the war question, till the 11th of September, 1864, when they were ordered a short distance to the rear and drawn up in front of Gen. Terry’s headquarters, where the non-re-enlisted men were mustered out of service. Their term of three years had expired, and the rebels, as if to give a parting salute, threw a shell into our midst which exploded, doing no damage, however, as the word “cover” was given in earnest this time. It was with pride and not a little satisfaction that the boys relinquished their trusty rifles, which had been their constant companions through many a hard fought conflict. Gen. Terry, in a speech to them, said: “The State of Connecticut might well be proud of the record of the Sixth.” He thanked us personally for our valor on the field, and hoped that we would live many years to recite the marches and battles on the field to the loved ones at home; and expressed a wish that the conflict would soon terminate, that he might also enjoy the blessings of civil life. Cheers were given with a will for our brave commander, and many a silent prayer went up for his welfare.

“Three days rations” were issued to the boys for the last time, and they bade an affectionate adieu to the comrades who were to remain. Many a tear glistened in the eyes of the old soldiers as the last good-bye was said, and all expressed a wish that the war would soon be over and they also be permitted to greet their friends at home. The boys “changed front to the rear,” and took the cars to City Point, and there embarked on the steamer United States. After a pleasant sail and the usual delays, we reached New York early on the morning of Sept. 15, landing at the foot of Canal street, North River; marched down Canal to Broadway, and down Broadway to the Battery, where a bountiful collation was served to us by the “Sons of Connecticut” residing in New York. After the repast was finished, they went on board the steamer Nassau and sailed for New Haven, arriving there at about 7 o’clock in the evening. Here a splendid reception awaited the old Sixth. Citizens and the military joined as an escort, and amid the booming of cannon (with blank cartridges) and the fireworks along the streets, the boys marched to the State House, where they were heartily welcomed and invited to partake of a rich and tempting repast. Ample justice was done to the viands, after which the boys separated for the night. Their final muster out and discharge was consummated on the 17th of September, just three years from the day the regiment left the State.

CHAPTER VII.

The Sixth remained around Petersburg on the line of the railroad after the non-re-enlisted men had returned home, skirmishing with the enemy, till the 28th of September, when Butler’s army faced to the right and crossed the Appomatox and hurried forward toward Richmond. Gen. Grant had resolved that a further advance toward Richmond in Butler’s front, while a demonstration from Warren and Hancock would weaken the rebel forces so that they would retire and give our siege trains an opportunity to press nearer the doomed city. The 10th corps crossed the James and pushed forward on the extreme right along Four Mile Creek, and advanced vigorously up the New Market road, where it met the rebels and a general engagement ensued all along the lines. Musketry firing was very rapid and the shells exploded with terrible force over the heads of the gallant soldiers. The steady tramp soon became a double quick and the double quick became a run, when the frightened rebels showed signs of weakness; yet they fought with desperation worthy a better cause. The 18th corps confronted Fort Gilmer, where it was for a few moments checked. The 10th corps, under the gallant Terry, then redoubled its efforts and soon effected a junction with the 18th corps near Fort Harrison. Then the whole line advanced with a cheer and the rebels fell back in confusion. The Sixth, with Terry’s corps, advanced up the Darbytown road until the head of the column reached a point within three miles of Richmond, where the spires of the churches and roofs of houses were easily discernible. The success attending the other parts of the line was not sufficient to warrant advancing any further just then, and the corps fell back a short distance, where it entrenched itself.

Fort Harrison was a strong earthwork of great advantage to the rebels. The position was too valuable to surrender without another trial. The following day Gen. Lee brought additional reinforcements from Petersburg to hold their position, but they, like the others, were unable to stand before the Union fire. The capture of Fort Harrison was not gained without severe loss to the Connecticut troops. The Sixth, however, met with comparatively small loss. The 1st of October, Gen. Hawley’s brigade advanced again toward Richmond and was subjected to a severe fire upon the Darbytown road, skirmishing with the enemy along the creeks and swamps, with no chance for a pitched battle. The next week was full of exposure and privation. The troops had crossed the James without tents, and many without blankets; and what little sleep they gained was not very refreshing. They were always compelled to be under arms, and the utmost vigilance was required, besides being much of the time under fire; and when not engaged skirmishing, were hard at work with the pick and shovel, entrenching themselves. Our rifles, of course, had to be close at hand, to be grasped in an instant, and very often were we compelled to drop one to seize the other. Words cannot express the trials and exposures which the Union troops were called to pass through at different periods of the campaign. The Virginia campaign was unusually severe. Most of the time, for seven months, the troops were without tents, and but few had overcoats. Fatigue parties were at work night and day; lines of works were thrown up to afford protection from the enemy’s bullets. Whole acres of land were turned over, and many a tree was felled to make a clearing by which a sudden advance might be checked. The troops had little or no chance to cook their rations, and more salt pork was eaten raw than was ever boiled. A ramrod served the purpose of a gridiron, while an army shovel proved a good frying pan.

The enemy made a vigorous attack on the 7th of October on Gen. Terry’s line, and came dashing on as if intent to drive the Union forces into the James River. The Sixth was the first Connecticut regiment engaged; some of the regiments fell back under the withering fire. The One Hundredth New York Regiment especially dishonored their hitherto good fame by breaking their line and fleeing in confusion, but to the credit of all the regiments from Connecticut, be it said, they kept an unbroken front to the foe; and notwithstanding the twice repeated assaults, the enemy were forced to retire from the field and the division entrenched themselves still more, and at midnight the old picket line was re-established. An attack upon the right of the rebel line was contemplated and the troops again advanced to meet the foe. Passing out beyond the rude line of earthworks, they came upon Chapin’s Farm, and from thence they proceeded through the woods, across a wide ravine and to the plains beyond. The skirmishers opened fire and cautiously advanced; the enemy’s advance line was pressed back into their entrenched position; inactive firing was kept up for several hours while our forees neared those of the enemy. The enemy’s position was favorable to them, as the dense thicket of scrub oaks and the tangled underbrush rendered it exceedingly difficult for our troops to preserve any kind of a line; the forces seemed determined, however, to go forward, and go forward they did; but the advance resulted disastrously and the men fell back again, abandoning the assault.

Col. Rockwell was in command of the Sixth. Lieut. Col. Meeker resigned and Major Daniel Klein succeeded him. Capt. Hiram L. Grant was promoted to be Major. Rev. Charles C. Tiffany, formerly pastor of a church in Derby, was appointed Chaplain. He was said to be a man of fine scholarly attainments and with his whole heart in the cause.

Capt. Frederick B. Osborn of New Haven was honorably discharged Oct. 25, 1864, as his time of enlistment had expired. The Sixth lost no officer more loyal than him;--brave and unflinching, he often inspired courage where courage was lacking, and he asked no soldier to follow where he dared not himself lead. Through his daring and bravery the colors of the Sixth were saved in the assault on Fort Wagner. The first Union flag that waved over Morris Island was borne by him, fastened to his sword. Before the war he was a marine in the U. S. service four years, during which time he cruised 21,000 miles, touching at European cities, and visited the Holy land. He was also on the frigate Niagara when she laid the Atlantic Cable. His term of service in the navy having expired, he hastened home to remain only a few months, for the bombardment of Sumpter again enlisted his loyalty, and he joined the first company of the first regiment of three months troops, passed through the memorable Bull Run campaign, and when the three years troops were called for, he was offered a Captaincy in the Sixth Regiment, which his modesty prevented him from accepting; but he was finally induced to accept the position of 1st Lieutenant in Co. “K,” and by the death of Capt. Gerrish was promoted to the vacancy. He acquitted himself with great credit in his position as Captain, and would have honored a field officer’s commission, for he seemed to lead a charmed life. Where bullets were thickest there he was found, gallantly leading his men, with comparatively little thought for himself, so dear was the cause of the old flag to his heart, and he often won the respect and admiration of those higher in rank, by his deeds of daring, and unflinching zeal for the cause. Within a year after his discharge he was accidentally killed on the New York & New Haven Railroad. A large number of the veterans attended his funeral, and the casket was draped with the flag he carried on Morris Island.

As early winter set in, the old regiments began the work of reorganizing. Many left the ranks, discharged after an honorable service, and new officers were appointed; and, as a lull appeared, the troops began to provide log huts for themselves to sleep in. As November came on the peace men of the North began to make threats of violence against the ballot box, and large frauds were discovered. It seemed to be their desire to stuff the ballot boxes and call the war a failure, and to prevent, if possible, anyone from voting war measures. Gen. Butler was transferred to New York as commander of that Department, and he was accompanied by a division of troops under Gen. Jos. R. Hawley. There were two brigades in the division of 3,000 men each. The Sixth was in the 1st brigade under command of Col. Greeley. Col. Rockwell, of the Sixth, commanded the 2d brigade. The troops made a landing on Staten Island for a short time, but most of the time were kept on board the steamers in the North and East rivers. The men suffered severely on this transfer from the South to the cool air of the North. They were kept on board the boats in a crowded state, and no officer or man allowed to go on shore. Friends of the regiments, wives, sweethearts, &c., came many miles, some of them, but were not permitted to see them. After the Presidential election had passed, the troops immediately returned to their old position on the James. The Sixth found the log cabins they had made with so much care all destroyed, and were obliged to build others to protect themselves from the chilly nights.

In December, Gen. Grant ordered an advance on Fort Fisher at the mouth of Cape Fear river, N. C., in order to suppress, if possible, the blockade running which was carried on to a very great extent. Running into Wilmington and unloading their cargoes, which were thence transferred through the confederacy, they became a great help to the rebel commissary. Gen. Butler was dispatched with about 6,500 men, assisted by Admiral Porter with 73 vessels, carrying about 655 guns. The fleet was well armed, and the land forces were in good condition for an assault. The gun boats opened fire and cannonading was terrific. The forces landed and a feeble assault was made. The troops pushed their skirmish line within 150 yards of the fort and captured a little outwork called Flag Pond battery, with sixty-five men. Gen. Butler conceived the idea that nothing short of a regular siege could accomplish the result, and therefore withdrew the army and returned to Hampton Roads. Admiral Porter was dissatisfied with the result. The President and Gen. Grant both believed that our forces, if led by a competent commander, could capture the works, and soon another advance was contemplated, but this time under the gallant Terry. The forces embarked with the addition of 1500 men and a siege train (which was not landed), and moved down the James. Gen. Terry was unaware of his destination till near Fortress Monroe, when Gen. Grant came aboard and directed him to take Fort Fisher by storm if he thought best; if not, by siege.

The expedition left Fortress Monroe, Jan. 6, 1865: put into Beaufort, N. C., on the 8th, and was detained there by bad weather. On the 12th they arrived off Fort Fisher and landed early in the morning under a heavy fire from Porter’s fleet. At three o’clock about 8,000 troops, with marines, had landed, having three days’ rations in their haversacks and about sixty rounds of ammunition to each man. Intrenching tools, munitions, &c., were landed in spite of the heavy surf that rolled upon the beach. Gen. Terry’s first concern was to throw a strong defensive line across the peninsula whereon Fort Fisher stands, so as to isolate it from all support and enable him to hold his ground against any force the rebels might send down from Wilmington. Some little time was spent in getting the troops in the right position. The line advanced to within 600 yards of the fort, and had determined upon an assault the next day (Jan. 14). The iron-clads began their work of destruction, and so true were their shots that ere long the gunners in Fort Fisher were driven into their bomb-proofs, thus silencing their guns. Meanwhile, about 2,000 sailors and marines, armed with cutlasses, revolvers and guns, had been detailed from the fleet and landed to take their hand in the meditated assault. They had worked their way up on the beach by digging ditches for a cover, till they were within 200 yards of the fort, and lay down anxiously awaiting the order to charge. This order was given at a quarter past three. The fleet was, of course, obliged to change the direction of their fire, so that our forces might not get the shelling which was intended for the rebels. This gave the enemy a chance again to work their guns, and, seeing the marines and sailors advancing they poured grape and shrapnel into their ranks fearfully, while the musketry kept up a steady fire, mowing them down with great slaughter; and, although almost annihilated, they pressed on, and some actually gained the parapet. But the sailors’ assault was signally repulsed and they were obliged to retire. The brigades leading the assault in the other directions were more successful, although for a time it seemed almost impossible to stand up under such a withering fire. The rebels met the charge with a prolonged yell and a simultaneous fire. The division under Gen. Ames, consisting of three brigades, rushed forward, and the fighting was at close quarters. The rebel’s fire told fearfully in the Union ranks, and men were swept away in winrows. Yet on they pressed, almost exhausted, when Gen. Terry sent for Abbott’s brigade, with the old Sixth and Seventh regiments. They pressed the foe in close quarters, while they (the rebels) relinquished foot by foot their possession. Gen. Terry sprang to the head of the advancing column, cheering the troops by his presence, and with redoubled effort the whole line advanced with a yell and the frightened rebels fell back in dismay, while the Union forces invested the Fort, and victory was ours. The Union cheers were by no means faint at this achievement which had crowned their arms, and Gen. Terry became the hero of the hour.

The capture of the stronghold was not effected without severe loss to our forces. The gallant sailors and marines suffered most, as their advance up the beach was opposed with the deadliest fire. The loss of the Sixth was small, considering the part they took in the engagement. The rebels immediately surrendered to Gen. Terry, numbering, all told, 2,083 men, 169 heavy guns, besides about 2,000 small arms, with considerable ammunition and other stores. The Union loss in this battle figured up to 110 killed and 536 wounded. A sad calamity happened the next morning in the Fort. While some of the troops were inspecting the chief magazine, it was supposed that some loose powder lay on the floor which was ignited by the shoes of the soldiers coming in contact. A tremendous explosion followed, in which 200 of our troops were instantly killed and about 100 more were wounded. This sad event cast a gloom over the victorious army, as those brave men who had stood in the fore-front of many a hard fought battle, and just as victory had once more crowned their efforts, to be thus suddenly hurried into eternity was indeed sickening.

By the capture of Fort Fisher the navy also captured five blockade runners which were unable to get away. Part of the enemy retreated across Cape Fear river to Smithfield, but, fearing an advance of the Union forces, they blew up their magazines, deserted their works and fled toward Wilmington. The army of the Union did not rest at this point, but immediately advanced to press the retreating rebels. The Sixth pushed rapidly forward, skirmishing with the rear guard, and on the 22d of February our forces entered Wilmington in triumph, and drove the rebels in confusion through the city. They fled in the greatest haste, scattering their blankets and knapsacks on the way, but were so closely pursued by the Sixth and other regiments that they had no chance to form for battle till near the outskirts of the city, where they determined to make one more stand. Although they were stubborn, they were finally forced to yield and made their escape across North East river.

The Sixth remained in the city of Wilmington one night, when they were ordered across Cape Fear river to Smithville, where their stay was also brief; they soon returned to Wilmington again, where Captain Buckbee of the Sixth was detailed as A. A. C. M., and remained there some time. The Sixth only remained in Wilmington for a short time and was thence transferred to Goldsboro, N. C., where they spent the summer months engaged in patrol and picket duties. The regiment was here when the news came of the surrender of Lee’s army, and great rejoicing was indulged in by the men at the prospect of the termination of the war. The Sixth was ordered to Raleigh for muster out, and from thence went to Petersburg and took cars for City Point, Va., where they embarked for home, after nearly four years of active service.

Lieut. Col. Daniel Klein arrived in New Haven with the old Sixth on the 28th of July, 1865, where they had an enthusiastic reception tendered them by the citizens and military. Ex-Mayor Morris Tyler addressed a welcome to the returned soldiers, which was briefly responded to by Lieut. Col. Klein. The final muster-out did not occur till the 21st of August, when the men were paid off and dismissed.

Thus was ended the organization of the Sixth, a regiment who volunteered early in the war and remained till the close. All through the war for the Union the upholders of the National Cause were more or less exposed to extraordinary hardships and sufferings because of the many densely wooded and sparsely peopled regions over which they generally marched and fought. All soldiers were more or less acquainted with the marshy spots of ground that served for a bed at night after a hard day’s battle or march, and but few arose in the morning without pain racking some part of the body from the effects of such exposure, and yet a large share survived the conflict and returned home to their friends.

One of the most cheering thoughts experienced by the soldier in the field was the fact that his friends at home cherished and loved him, and proved their affection by their prayers and sympathy; and the letter sent from home containing perhaps but a few words traced by the hand of affection, and the simple wish expressed for his safe return, mingled with the “God bless and keep you,” did more to encourage the soldier to endure the hardships and privations than all the promotions that could be offered. He could work better, struggle harder, and fight with a purer zeal, if he could but realize that the prayers of affection, sympathy and love went up to the great Commander of the universe for his safety. The members of the Sixth enjoyed the confidence of all the corps and division commanders under whose leadership they were chanced to be placed, and in many difficult and trying places the old regiment was called upon to aid the enterprise. They always strove to acquit themselves like men, and true soldiers of the Union, never allowing a victory, however great, to elate us too much, knowing full well the great sacrifice of life it ofttimes cost to gain it; nor would we allow a defeat, however disastrous, to shake our faith in the righteousness of the cause in which we were engaged; but, humbly trusting in Divine Providence to lead the army to battle for the cause of liberty and equality to all in our country.

We would not forget those who went forth at the Nation’s call, eager to do battle for the right and to shield their loved ones against an invasion of the foe. We would speak with reverence of those who did not return with us from the field; heroes are they, leaders on field and staff, leaders in line and rank, they offered up their lives for the country’s good. They sealed their patriotism with their blood; many of them unknown to fame, fell amid the strife, not with their names emblazoned high as great commanders of the corps, yet they fill honored and patriotic graves, and the surviving members of the Sixth cherish their memory. The dead of the Sixth sleep in Washington, as well as in the sandy soil of the Carolinas. The palmetto groves and the jungles of Georgia, together with the river banks of Florida and the soil of Virginia hold the ashes of those who will ever be sacred to our memory. They have passed from our sight; their mission has been accomplished, and many long years will elapse ere we can forget our departed heroes. We would offer a prayer for the widow and the fatherless, that He would temper the winds to the shorn lamb, and that His infinite goodness may be round and about them in all their heart sorrows and afflictions, and that they may be united again in that better world when the Master shall call.

APPENDIX.

The members of the Sixth always entertained and cherished a feeling of deep friendship for one another, and when we were discharged it seemed like breaking up a household, so closely were our sympathies united; and it was resolved to organize an association, at no distant day, to perpetuate and keep alive those friendly interests which united us so closely during the dark days of the war. Therefore, pursuant to a call, the members of the Sixth assembled at the old State House in New Haven, on the 16th of May, 1868. The meeting was called to order by Brigadier General Alfred P. Rockwell, who stated that the object of our assembling together was to keep alive and fondly cherish the varied memories of the service, to perpetuate the friendly relations established in the field, and also to preserve a record of the regiment. By a vote of the members present the following were appointed to draft the articles of the Association:

Brig. Gen. Alfred P. Rockwell, New Haven.
Lieut. Rudolph Kost, Bridgeport.
Sergeant Andrew Paul, Waterbury.
  ”   George A. Staples, Bridgeport.
Com. Sergt. Fred. E. Callender, New Britain.

The committee reported that the organization should be called the “Association of the Sixth Regiment of Connecticut Volunteers,” and the membership to consist of all honorably discharged soldiers who had served with the Sixth. The officers of the association were to consist of a President, ten Vice Presidents (one from each company), a secretary, who should also be Treasurer, and a Regimental Historian. The President, Secretary and three Vice Presidents shall constitute the executive committee for the transaction of business. The ballot was taken, and the choice of officers for one year resulted as follows:

For Pres., Sergt. Geo. A. Staples, Bridgeport.
For Sec. and Treas., Augustus F. Bull, New Haven.
For Historian, Charles K. Cadwell,    ”

The Vice Presidents were chosen, one from each company, and the association voted that the Annual Reunion be held on the second Wednesday of September in each year, and the first Annual to be held on Sept. 9, 1868, at Bridgeport, Conn. After the usual hand-shaking and congratulations, the association adjourned.

The association met in Bridgeport, according to agreement, and enjoyed the hospitality of the soldiers’ friends, and at this our first annual the soldiers were extremely gratified to find so much interest taken in these Reunions. Many who were unable to be present wrote us encouraging letters, and we voted that these reunions should be maintained. On motion it was voted that the regiment contribute towards a proposed monument for our lamented Col. Chatfield, that the regiment should give its pledge for $500, and that a collection be taken at each of our reunions for this object. Edwin L. Cook, of Waterbury, was elected treasurer of the monument fund.

The second Annual of the regiment was held in Stamford, Conn. On arriving at the depot we were met by delegates of the resident members and took carriages to Shippan Point, where we sat down to an old-fashioned clam bake.

The third Annual was held again at Bridgeport, where the loyal people of that patriotic town again welcomed the old Sixth, and provided an abundant repast.

The fourth Annual was held in New Britain, and a splendid reception awaited us. A large part of the houses were festooned with flags; business was generally suspended; the regiment was welcomed by the Mayor and invited to partake of the hospitalities of the city. Our faithful Secretary came about 200 miles to attend this reunion; and, as business engagements pressed upon him he felt obliged to tender his resignation. A hearty vote of thanks was given him for his services, and his resignation reluctantly accepted. Wm. F. Smith, of New Haven, was the unanimous choice for the vacancy, and was duly elected.

Our fifth Annual was held in Waterbury, Conn., the home of Col. Chatfield. Here, also, the regiment met with a grand reception. At the depot the Chatfield and Sedgwick Guards met and escorted us to Chatfield Armory, where our business meeting was held, after which the regiment sat down to a bountiful dinner in the City Hall. In the afternoon the regiment marched to Riverside Cemetery, with the guards and the Masonic fraternity, where the base of the monument of Col. Chatfield was laid, under the auspices of Clark Commandery, K. T.

The sixth Annual was held in New Haven, Conn. The visiting comrades were met at the depot and escorted to G. A. R. Hall, where the business meeting was held, and then after a short march we proceeded to Loomis’ Hall, where the comrades were made welcome to the viands before them. A large and beautiful flag was here shown to the regiment, which had been purchased with funds raised for that purpose at our last Reunion.

The seventh Annual was held at Bridgeport, Conn., and the members proceeded to Sharpshooter’s Park, East Bridgeport, where they were finely entertained by the resident members and the citizens. It is the intention to hold these Reunions every year as long as the members live, and to extend a cordial welcome to all friends of the old Sixth to meet with us, have a hearty hand-shake, revive old friendships, and perpetuate those fraternal feelings that so closely united us on the field.