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  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  The three footnotes in the Catalogues (Chapters IX to XII) have
  multiple anchors denoted by [A], [B] and [C]. These footnotes have
  been left at the end of each relevant section, as in the original
  text. The footnotes are listed here for easy reference:
    [A] Taken prisoner at Fredericksburg.
    [B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.
    [C] Taken prisoner at Gettysburg.

  Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.




  THE

  “TWENTY-SEVENTH.”

  _A REGIMENTAL HISTORY._


  BY
  WINTHROP D. SHELDON, A.M.,
  LATE LIEUTENANT COMPANY H.


  [Illustration: (Publisher colophon)]


  NEW-HAVEN:
  MORRIS & BENHAM.

  1866.




TO THE

OFFICERS AND PRIVATE SOLDIERS

OF THE

TWENTY-SEVENTH REGIMENT CONN. VOLUNTEERS,

THIS MEMORIAL OF PATRIOTIC SERVICE

IS

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.




CONTENTS.


                                                   PAGE

     I. CAMP NEAR WASHINGTON,                         9

    II. TO THE FRONT,                                17

   III. FREDERICKSBURG,                              22

    IV. CAMP NEAR FALMOUTH,                          33

     V. CHANCELLORSVILLE,                            43

    VI. ON TO RICHMOND,                              56

   VII. GETTYSBURG,                                  71

  VIII. IN MEMORIAM,                                 89

    IX. RECORD OF CASUALTIES,                       100

     X. CATALOGUE OF COMMISSIONED OFFICERS,         115

    XI. PROMOTIONS,                                 119

   XII. CATALOGUE OF ENLISTED MEN,                  123




FREDERICKSBURG,

December 13th, 1862.


CHANCELLORSVILLE,

May 1st, 2d, and 3d, 1863.


GETTYSBURG,

July 2d, 3d, and 4th, 1863.




THE

“TWENTY-SEVENTH”

CONN. VOLS.




CHAPTER I.

CAMP NEAR WASHINGTON.

      “As by the west wind driven, the ocean waves
      Dash forward on the far-resounding shore,
      Wave upon wave: first curls the ruffled sea,
      With whit’ning crests; anon with thundering roar
      It breaks upon the beach, and, from the crags
      Recoiling, flings in giant curves its head
      Aloft, and tosses high the wild sea-spray,
      Column on column--so the hosts of Greece
      Poured ceaseless to the war.”
                                            HOMER.


The campaign of the Twenty-seventh Regiment Connecticut Volunteers
began in the most critical and anxious period of the war against
the rebellion--the year 1862. After long months of diligent
preparation, the Army of the Potomac opened the year with its
first memorable advance against the rebel capital. The inspiring
faith of all loyal hearts followed every step of its progress up
the Peninsula, toward the stronghold of treason; and when the
shattered but undaunted remnants retreated down the James river,
and hurried to the defence of the national capital, menaced by
an exultant foe, deep was the disappointment which filled the
whole North. Every ear was strained to catch the result of the
conflict before Washington, only to hear that the rebels had been
partially successful, and were crossing the Potomac into Maryland
and Pennsylvania. Those were days of profound anxiety, but not of
weak irresolution. Each new disaster seemed to bring the people
nearer to a realization of the magnitude of the struggle, and nerve
them to fulfil the imperative duties of the hour. The President,
early in July, issued his Proclamation, calling for three hundred
thousand men, to serve for three years; and on the fourth of August
following summoned to the field three hundred thousand more, to
serve for nine months. The Twenty-seventh Regiment was organized
under this latter call. Its members were recruited from New-Haven
county, and mainly from the city of New-Haven, with considerable
numbers from Madison, Milford, Meriden, Wallingford, Branford,
Clinton, and Guilford, and still smaller quotas from other
neighboring towns.

The character and material of the regiment well illustrated
the heartiness with which all classes responded to the earnest
call of the President in those dark days of the Republic. Every
variety of condition and employment found representatives in the
Twenty-seventh. The agricultural population of the county responded
with a goodly number of the votaries of Ceres. Many of the most
respected and enterprising mechanics and business men of the
community laid aside for a season the implements of their labor to
join its ranks. Members of the press exchanged pen and type for
sword and bayonet. There were also several accomplished engineers
in the regiment, one of whom was detailed in that department, on
the staff of General W. S. Hancock, and had charge of the General’s
topographical maps and plans of battles. The public schools of the
city contributed one of their most esteemed teachers, who gave
his life on the field of Fredericksburg; and in the room where of
yore he so successfully led on his pupils from step to step in
knowledge, hangs his portrait, to them a daily-recurring lesson of
noble patriotism and self-devotion. Also the various professions
furnished of their members; and old Yale, never faithless to the
patriotic instincts of her Revolutionary sons, was represented
by several of her graduates and students, one of whom was a
color-bearer of the regiment at Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville,
and Gettysburg.

The first company went into camp at Camp Terry, New-Haven, in the
latter part of August, and by the middle of September the whole
number of companies were on the ground, with nearly a full quota
of men. Being technically a militia regiment, the choice of field
officers was vested in those of the line. Richard S. Bostwick, of
New-Haven, was elected Colonel; Henry C. Merwin, of the same place,
Lieutenant-Colonel; and Theodore Byxbee, of Meriden, Major; all of
whom, with a number of the company officers, had been connected
with the three-months volunteers at the beginning of the war. After
several weeks spent in perfecting the organization and equipment,
the regiment was mustered into the United States service, October
twenty-second, 1862, for the term of nine months, and started for
the field in the evening of that day, numbering eight hundred and
twenty-nine, rank and file.

Without stopping to dwell upon the passage to New-York, to Port
Monmouth, or upon the generous hospitality of the Quaker City, and
passing by the night journey to Baltimore, succeeded by a day’s
rest on the pavements of that city, the morning of the twenty-fifth
found us in Washington. Camp Seward, on Arlington Heights, is soon
reached, and quickly long rows of tents rear their white roofs
in General Lee’s peach orchard. Possibly in other days we should
have been summarily ejected by a grand charge of that gentleman’s
dusky retainers, or perhaps indicted in the courts for presuming
to trespass upon the domain of an F. F. V., and have paid dearly
to appease his injured feelings. But now the crowd of slaves is
dispersed, and “Massa Lee” is not there to dispute our right to
possession.

Our introduction to the Old Dominion would be incomplete unless the
foreground of the picture presented to view that bugbear, Virginia
mud, which has made and unmade so many Generals, and stopped the
wheels of the Army of the Potomac with periodical regularity. We
had hardly arrived at Camp Seward when the clouds began to marshal
their forces for an illustration of their power to change the
sacred soil into a sea of mud; and as if to show the minutiæ of the
forming process, it began to drizzle slowly; the mist gradually
enlarged into drops, and the soil grew softer and softer. As we
floundered about, we began to realize that the aforesaid mud was
not altogether a myth, conjured up by inefficient commanders to
excuse inaction. The storm continued at intervals during the
twenty-sixth, and, as night approached, a strong wind, superadded
to the pelting rain, swept howling over the ridge, tearing many
of our tents from their uncertain moorings. All, however, were
disposed to view philosophically this somewhat unceremonious
welcome to the soil of Virginia, and the hardships of a soldier’s
life.

At noon of the twenty-seventh the order came to strike tents,
preparatory to moving our camp a few miles up the Potomac. Late
in the day the march began. Crossing over into Georgetown, by the
Aqueduct Bridge, and following the picturesque course of the river
up to Chain Bridge, we return to the left bank, and bivouack for
the rest of the night around huge fires. The next morning Camp
Tuttle assumes a veritable existence, and here the Twenty-seventh
settle down to a month’s routine and drill, preliminary to the
rough experience of an actual campaign. Our camp was situated upon
a rising ground, from which could be seen the majestic dome of the
Capitol. Some distance in front of the parade, and on the left,
were thick woods, while the right was skirted by a road, across
which were encamped the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-eighth New-Jersey,
and the One Hundred and Twenty-seventh Pennsylvania, which, with
our own regiment, constituted a brigade of Abercrombie’s division
of the army, for the defence of Washington. As soon as the camp was
established in its new location, the Colonel issued a regimental
order, setting forth the programme of daily duty as follows:
Reveille at six A.M.; guard mounting at eight; company drill from
nine to eleven, and again from one to two; battalion drill from
three to four, and dress parade at five P.M.; tattoo at nine, taps
at half-past nine. All this was varied by an occasional season of
picket duty, a few miles up the Leesburg turnpike.

Our first Sabbath at Camp Tuttle forms, in most respects, a sample
of all the rest. Sunday is to the soldier the most anomalous day
of the calendar, especially if situated, as we were, without a
chaplain. The weekly inspection and freedom from drill are the
chief points which distinguish it from other days. In the present
instance, however, an unexpected cause of excitement appeared.
After dress parade, it was announced that in consequence of certain
rumored movements of the enemy in the direction of Leesburg, it
might be necessary to beat the long roll, to call the regiment
under arms at any moment during the night. Of course, the very
thought of a rebel added new zest to our military existence. Every
one was on the _qui vive_, and made his arrangements to respond
to the call with the utmost promptness. But the apprehended raid
did not take place, and our rest was therefore undisturbed by the
soul-stirring notes of the long roll.

Every few days a company was detailed to go on picket--an event
not altogether unwelcome, as a relief to the monotonous round of
camp duties, and as an introduction to a new phase of experience.
To obtain some idea of this portion of our regimental life around
Washington, let us “fall in,” fully armed and equipped, and follow
one of these parties to the picket-line. On the present occasion,
Company H, with detachments from other regiments, started out
one morning, and, after marching several miles on the Leesburg
Turnpike, arrived about ten o’clock at the village of Langley.
The line of pickets extended along the main road a short distance
beyond the centre of the place, and also along a cross-road, which,
coming up from the south, connects with the turnpike just before we
reach the village. Houses, favorably situated at different points,
were occupied as headquarters of the various squads, or, if such
conveniences were not at hand, brush huts supplied their place. At
that time Langley consisted of about a dozen houses, and one small
church, and had once been favored with two regular taverns, whose
sphere was now filled by two boarding-houses of minor importance,
one of which indicated its character to the public by the sign:

  +---------------+
  |               |
  |     RESTER    |
  |         ANT   |
  |               |
  +---------------+

The dinner hour having arrived, the pickets unanimously conclude
to set aside Uncle Sam’s homely fare, and take advantage of the
enlarged facilities of entertainment afforded by the village.
Accordingly they adjourn to one of the boarding-houses, kept by
a man of secession proclivities, whose principles, however, do
not interfere with his untiring efforts to please. Such houses of
refreshment, where a civilized meal could be obtained, situated
as they were here and there along the picket-line, added much to
the enjoyment of these brief excursions from camp. Our duties were
not very onerous, requiring the attention of each man two hours
out of every six, and consisted in seeing that no one passed along
the road, or appeared in the vicinity, without proper authority.
In good weather, the two days of picket duty, occurring once a
fortnight, were quite agreeable; but if stormy, they afforded good
material for the grumbling fraternity.

In view of the approach of winter, and the probability of remaining
in our present location for some time, it was thought best to make
corresponding preparations. Pine logs, with considerable labor,
were cut and brought in from the neighboring forest, and soon Camp
Tuttle began to present an air of comfort positively inviting.
But after only a brief enjoyment of our improved quarters, and as
if to remind us of the uncertainty always attending the soldier’s
life, orders came, November eighteenth, for Company H to strike
tents, pack up, and march over to Hall’s Hill, there to clear up
a place for the regimental encampment. Arriving on the hill in a
pelting rain, huge fires were built of the brush and stumps which
covered the ground, and by evening our tents were up, and we were
as comfortable as circumstances would allow. Hearing of several
deserted encampments about a mile distant, on Miner’s and Upton’s
Hills, many parties went out the next morning to secure anything
which might add to their convenience. A large barren plain was
covered far and wide with the huts and _débris_ of a portion of
McClellan’s army, which encamped here in the winter of 1862. The
whole presented a very curious and suggestive sight. Meanwhile,
orders came to strike tents and rejoin the regiment. It appeared
that all the regiments in the vicinity were ordered to prepare for
a rapid march. The Army of the Potomac had but recently crossed
the river, after the battle of Antietam, in pursuit of Lee, and
the enemy were said to be threatening General Sigel, in command
at Centreville. In view of this state of affairs, the reserve, in
the defences of Washington, was called upon to be ready for any
emergency. Returning to camp, we found the men earnestly canvassing
the nature of the contemplated march. The orders, however, were
countermanded in the evening, perhaps in consequence of a severe
storm, which continued for several days.




CHAPTER II.

TO THE FRONT.


The soldier who is untried in the fearful ordeal of war looks
forward with a kind of adventurous excitement to the time when he
shall cross swords with the enemy; and especially if his heart is
bound up in the cause, and his motives lie deeper than mere love of
adventure, he desires to stand at the post of duty, though it be in
the deadly charge, and at the cannon’s mouth.

At length the last day of November, a beautiful Sabbath, came,
and with it marching orders. All attention was now concentrated
upon the movement to take place the next day, at nine o’clock.
The cooks were busy preparing rations for the march; the men were
arranging their traps in the most portable form, and all looked
forward with eager interest to the new scenes before us. At the
appointed time, on the following morning, the Twenty-seventh, with
the other regiments in the brigade, began the march for Washington,
leaving our comparatively commodious A tents standing. Henceforth,
shelter-tents, and for much of the time no tents at all, were to be
our covering. Our final destination was all a mystery, until, as
the days advanced, conjecture was enabled, with some probability,
to fix upon Fredericksburg. The march across Chain Bridge, through
Georgetown and Washington, and down the Potomac, fifteen miles,
consumed the first day, and that night a tired set slept beneath
their shelter-tents, nestling in the woods by the road-side.

By eight o’clock, December second, we were again in motion, and
before sundown accomplished the appointed distance of twenty miles,
through a pleasant country, divided into large and apparently
well-cultivated plantations. Sambo’s glittering ivory and staring
eyes gleamed from many gateways, greeting us half suspiciously. One
young colored boy concluded he had been beaten quite long enough by
his master, and not liking the prospect before him if he remained
in slavery, thought best to join the column, and march to freedom.
In anticipation of some such proceedings on the part of the colored
population, the planters of that region patrolled the roads on
horseback, watching our ranks as we filed past, to see if some
luckless contraband were not harbored therein.

The third day brought us within three miles of Port Tobacco, and
without standing on ceremony, we encamped for the night on the
grounds of a secessionist planter, and availed ourselves of his
abundant store of hay and straw. December fourth, we passed through
the town--a very ordinary, shabby-looking place, whose secession
population hardly deigned to glance at us, except from behind
closed shutters.

Thus far the weather had been delightful, but the fifth day of our
march, and the last on the Maryland side of the Potomac, opened
rather inauspiciously, and by the time we reached the river bank
at Liverpool Point, a cold rain-storm had set in, in which we
were obliged to stand a couple of hours awaiting our turn to be
ferried across to Acquia Landing. At length the rain changed into
driving snow, and when we arrived at the Landing, the surrounding
hills were white with the generous deposit. The village at Acquia
Creek, after being evacuated sundry times, had risen again from
the ashes of several burnings to become the base of supplies for
Burnside’s army before Fredericksburg. Busy carpenters were rearing
storehouses, eventually to take their turn at conflagration, and
the offing was full of vessels of every description, loaded with
stores to be transferred by rail to Falmouth.

In the snow we disembarked, and after many delays reached our
camping ground, on a hill-side, a mile or more up the railroad. It
was now evening, and the prospect seemed anything but encouraging,
in view of the fact that the storm continued with even augmented
fury. We pitched our shelter-tents and made our beds in the
snow, and built fires, under difficulties which can hardly be
exaggerated. To add to the discomfort of the case, our supplies
were entirely exhausted, and although the wharves and storehouses
at the Landing fairly groaned with pork and hard-tack, we could
not obtain these articles, owing to inflexible red tape, and in
part to the fact that the railroad was monopolized in carrying
subsistence for the army at Falmouth. A very limited supply of
sawdust ginger-cakes constituted the universal bill of fare until
the evening of the next day.

December sixth dawned upon us, cold and frosty, but clear--just
such weather as graces the month in the latitude of New-England.
The discomforts of the preceding day were soon forgotten in the
cheerful sunshine. At this time our worthy chaplain, Rev. J. W.
Leek, joined the regiment. Though separated from us in one short
week, by reason of an almost fatal wound, yet in that brief period
he had gained the hearty respect and esteem of all, and connected
his name most honorably with the history of the Twenty-seventh.

After a rest of two days, we bade adieu to Acquia Creek on the
morning of December eighth, and resumed our march to Falmouth.
Having lost our way, the journey, which properly required but
one day, occupied until noon of the next, when we arrived at the
headquarters of General D. N. Couch, at that time in command of
the Second Army Corps. By him the Twenty-seventh was assigned to
the Third Brigade, General S. K. Zook’s, of the First Division,
commanded by General W. S. Hancock. At this time the Army of the
Potomac was divided into three grand divisions--the right, left,
and centre--the first, of which our corps formed a part, under the
command of General Edwin V. Sumner.

We were now marched off to our camping ground, a short distance
from the Rappahannock river. Henceforth the fortunes of the
Twenty-seventh are linked with the Army of the Potomac. The
regiment belonged to a corps whose thinned ranks eloquently
testified to the hard-fought contests of the Peninsula, where
it had borne the brunt, always in the fore-front of battle, and
the last to retire when retreat became necessary. The history of
the Second proved it to be one of the most reliable corps in the
service--always ready for any desperate encounter under its brave
and fighting leaders. The famous Irish Brigade formed a part of
our division. Such being the character and history of the corps,
it was evident that the Twenty-seventh must now make up its mind
to the severest of campaign service. Scarcely were our tents up,
when the Colonel received orders to have the company cooks prepare
four days’ rations, to be ready by the next morning--the inevitable
preliminary to more important events.

The forenoon of December tenth was occupied in cleaning our arms
and preparing for an inspection, to take place at twelve o’clock,
before General Zook and staff. Perhaps at this point it might
be well to speak of the weapons the General was called upon to
inspect, and which he declared unfit for service. One of his staff,
a day or two later, remarked: “Boys, if you can’t discharge them,
you can use the bayonet.” That certainly was the most serviceable
part of the gun. At the outset, the Twenty-seventh, with the
exception of the flank companies, was furnished with Austrian
rifles of such an inferior order that no regular inspector would
have passed them. Scarcely one of these weapons was without defects
in the most essential particulars. These facts are not mentioned
to bring discredit upon any of the authorities cognizant of such
matters, but simply as a matter of justice to the regiment.
Doubtless the best of reasons could have been given to justify
the temporary distribution of such arms. Early, however, in the
following January, the regiment was supplied with the Whitney
rifled musket, a weapon in the highest degree satisfactory to all.




CHAPTER III.

FREDERICKSBURG.


In the afternoon of the tenth, two hundred and fifty men of the
Twenty-seventh were detailed to picket along the Rappahannock
above Falmouth. During all the following night might be heard an
unusual rumbling of cars, bringing up subsistence from Acquia
Creek, and the rattling of ammunition wagons and pontoon trains,
slowly moving to their respective destinations. At half-past four,
on the morning of the eleventh, the Colonel passed around to the
officers’ quarters, giving orders to have their companies supplied
with three days’ rations, and fall in by half-past six, in light
marching order. Let us leave the scene of busy preparation in camp,
and for a few moments view the events transpiring on the river.
Three points had been carefully selected by General Burnside where
bridges were to be thrown across--one a short distance above the
Lacey House, another a few rods below the railroad bridge, and the
third about two miles below the city. Boat after boat is anchored
in its place; plank after plank is laid in quick succession, and
the river is well-nigh spanned by the trembling structure, when
suddenly two signal guns break on the still night air, and a sheet
of flame bursts from houses on the opposite bank, where hundreds
of sharp-shooters lie concealed. The defenceless bridge builders
are temporarily driven from their work, while the cannon from the
bluffs behind belch forth a defiant response to the rebel challenge.

To return to the Twenty-seventh. Promptly at half-past six the
regiment fell in and joined the rest of the brigade, a short
distance from camp. Silently, through woods and across fields,
we marched to the corps rendezvous, in a deep hollow near the
Phillips House, where General Sumner had his headquarters. On the
way we passed long lines of troops moving rapidly to the river, or
resting behind rows of musket stacks. Here we were to remain until
a crossing could be effected.

Meanwhile, the frequency of cannon discharges increases. Every
moment another adds its voice to the swelling volume, until from
twenty batteries, comprising more than a hundred guns, arranged
along the banks of the river, bursts a tempest of shot and shell
over the rebel city. This continues, with little cessation, until
noon. For three hours following, only occasionally a gun disturbs
the comparative quiet. Then the ball opens again with renewed
violence. A visit to the top of the hill, overlooking the city,
reveals columns of smoke, with now and then a flash of flame,
testifying to the effectiveness of the bombardment. At the river,
all attempts to complete the pontoon bridge had hitherto failed.

With particular interest we gazed upon a regiment of the corps, as,
tired, dusty, and powder smeared, it rejoined us after a protracted
effort at the bridge. History records but few parallels to the more
than heroic valor which crowned that day’s work. A trusty weapon
supports the soldier’s courage, but to stand, unarmed, the target
of unerring sharp-shooters, unable to respond to their attacks, and
in view of almost inevitable death, is the highest test of courage.
It became evident that the bridge could be completed only by
driving the sharp-shooters from the houses on the opposite side, by
a sudden dash across the river. This hazardous duty was intrusted
to the Seventh Michigan and detachments from several other
regiments, and nobly was it performed. The rebels were driven from
their hiding-places, the bridge touched the opposite shore, and the
first act in this fearful drama closed. This success was received
with universal joy, and all attention now concentrated in what the
future should unfold. General Howard’s division of the Second Corps
crossed over into the city, while Hancock’s and French’s bivouacked
for the night in a strip of woods near the Phillips House.

Early the next morning, December twelfth, we crossed into
Fredericksburg, over the bridge which had cost so much blood and
labor the preceding day. Evidences of the bombardment everywhere
presented themselves, in the houses perforated with shot and
shell, and in the miscellaneous rubbish which hindered our
progress through the street. Mattresses, pitchers, chairs, kitchen
utensils, and other furniture, scattered about in grotesque
confusion, testified that those who had passed the night in the
town had availed themselves of all the comforts within reach. We
moved down Water street, and halted at the first pontoon bridge,
a few rods below the railroad, where we encamped that day and
night. The Twenty-seventh spent the day in bridging gullies and
mud-holes with boards and planks from neighboring fences, so that
the artillery could pass. Company B was detailed to lay pontoons
across a stream uniting with the Rappahannock just below the town.
About the middle of the afternoon the rebel batteries attempted to
annoy the men engaged in these preparations, and for a time a very
brisk artillery duel was maintained between the opposing forces.
Sheltered as we were by the steep bank, the rebels could not obtain
accurate range, and most of the shells shrieked harmlessly over our
heads, and fell into the river or struck on the opposite side.

At length the eventful thirteenth arrived--a day full of scenes
and experiences which will never fade from the memory of those
who participated in them. Immediately after breakfast we were
marched up to Caroline street, the principal street of the town,
parallel with the river. Here the division was formed in line of
battle, and stacked arms, while arrangements were being completed
to storm the heights back of the city. Staff officers were riding
in hot haste to and fro, carrying orders, or disposing the forces,
and occasionally our division general, Hancock, rode slowly and
proudly up and down the line, surveying the ranks, his countenance
wearing an aspect of quiet and cool determination. At length the
sound of cannonading comes to our ears from below, indicating
that General Franklin has entered upon the task assigned him, of
seizing the railroad and turning the enemy’s flank. Like banks
of keys in a great organ, the rebel works rise behind the town,
and gradually the chorus of notes bursts forth directly in front
of us. The rebel shell crash among the houses or strike in the
street, while the batteries of the Second Corps, on the north bank
of the Rappahannock, send their shrieking replies over the city.
“Attention!” rings out loud and long above the din. Every man is in
his place, his musket at a shoulder. “Right face!” “Right shoulder
shift arms!” follow in quick succession. At this moment General
Hancock rides up to the Twenty-seventh, and leaning forward in
his saddle, with his right arm upraised, briefly addresses them:
“You are the only Connecticut regiment in my division. Bring
no dishonor upon the State you represent.” The order is given,
“Forward! March!” reëchoed by commanders of brigades, regiments,
and companies, and we move in quick time down the street to the
railroad.

While the column is moving on, let us briefly survey the position
of the battle-field. Fredericksburg is situated in a large
amphitheatre, admirably adapted for defence. Directly in the rear
of the town is a smooth field with a slightly ascending grade,
extending back a little less than half a mile to the telegraph
road, which is flanked by a stone wall, beyond which rises a ridge
somewhat abruptly from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet high.
This range of high ground extends as far as Hazel Run, a little
stream emptying into the Rappahannock just below the lower edge of
the town, and in the other direction bends toward the river, which
it very nearly touches just above Falmouth, about a mile above
Fredericksburg. Rebel batteries were strongly posted along this
eminence, so that a front and enfilading fire could be secured upon
any force advancing across the level plateau. General Longstreet
was in command of these lines of fortifications, while Stonewall
Jackson commanded the rebel right, opposite General Franklin, the
whole under the supreme direction of General Lee. Bearing in mind
that the task before us was to capture these formidable heights,
let us return to the storming column.

Sheltered in a measure by the houses, it passes down Caroline
street with little interruption; but as soon as we arrived at the
railroad dépôt, several rebel guns, trained upon the spot with
fatal accuracy, welcome us to the encounter. Very near this point
fell Captain Schweizer, the first of the long list of casualties
which at nightfall told how fearfully the conflict had decimated
the ranks of the Twenty-seventh. Several were knocked down, one of
whom, leaping up, exclaimed earnestly, “I’ll have pay for that!”
then springing to his place, rushed on to death, for no one ever
saw or heard of him afterward. The division now advanced at a
double-quick into the open field; then, after resting a few moments
on the ground, at the order, “Charge!” moved by the left flank
with fixed bayonets, passing French’s division, which had been
obliged to fall back. A second brief rest, then on again, while
shot and shell plow the ground in front, burst over our heads, or
make fearful gaps in the line. Yet on we rush. The wounded are
left where they fall. Not a word is spoken, not a gun fired. As we
approach nearer the rebel lines, all the elements of destruction
ingenuity can devise or position afford, are concentrated upon
the narrow space. From rows of rifle-pits, protected by a heavy
stone wall, bursts a continuous roll of musketry; from neighboring
houses flashes the deadly fire of sharp-shooters, while batteries
posted on the heights behind strong field-works, and supported
by infantry, sweep the field with shot and shell and grape and
canister. Enfilading batteries on the right and left of the rebel
semicircle pour in their swift discharges, and behind us, the
batteries of the Second Corps, on the other side of the river,
shell the enemy’s works with little effect at the distance of
nearly three thousand yards, but with so much danger to the
storming party, that General Couch orders them to cease firing.
The line now begins to waver, and, with some disorder, presses
forward to a brick house, from which a brisk musketry fire is kept
up in the direction of the stone wall. At this time the various
regiments became mingled together, and, unfortunately, at the order
to deploy into line to renew the charge, the Twenty-seventh, in
consequence of the confusion, separated into several fragments,
advancing to the right and left of the house. The time for a
sudden dash had passed, and unable longer to stem the avalanche
of fire, which seemed to gather intensity as we proceeded, the
charge was continued only as far as a board fence, all full of
bullet holes and torn with shot, less than a hundred yards from the
famous stone wall, as estimated by an officer of the regiment who
afterward visited the spot under flag of truce. With the exception
of a partially successful attempt to approach still nearer the
rebel rifle-pits, the men remained at this point the rest of
the afternoon, loading their guns on the ground, then rising
sufficiently to deliver their fire.

The rebel musketry continued with almost uninterrupted violence
until night overshadowed the scene, never entirely ceasing in our
front. At times it surged off to another part of the line, with
only a scattering fire opposite our position; then rolled back
again with redoubled power, the peculiar rattling of separate
discharges being fused into one prolonged sound. Lines of rebel
troops could be seen marching along the ridge, and running down
to aid their comrades in the rifle-pits below. But for a weary
two hours no reënforcement advanced to the support of the Union
forces. At one time appearances seemed to indicate that the rebels
were about to charge upon our feeble line, but a few well-directed
volleys admonished them to remain behind their stone walls.

The Union artillery had thus far accomplished comparatively little,
owing to its distance from the rebel works, and to the absence
of all favorable positions where guns could be posted, on the
Fredericksburg side of the river. Late in the afternoon, however,
several guns took position in the upper streets of the city.
The battle-field shook with their combined discharge. Meanwhile
Hancock’s division had been mostly withdrawn, to give place to the
other division of the Second Corps. But many of the Twenty-seventh
and other regiments remained at their posts, their safety being
still more endangered if they attempted to leave the field.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Howard’s division advanced to
the attack, to be hurled back before the overwhelming fire of
the rebels. Only a brief time is now left before darkness will
cover the scene. A final, desperate effort must be made to take
the heights. Supported by the batteries in the streets, a fresh
division advances into the field. How splendidly they charge! with
what a perfect line! We can look into the faces of the men as they
come on. Nothing apparently can withstand their onset. They come
steadily to within a few paces of where we lie. Then bursts forth
from the rebel works an iron tempest which had scarcely a parallel
even on that day. Showers of bullets went whistling by or struck
the ground in every direction, while pieces of shell, bits of old
iron, grape and canister, rained down with a dull sound as they
hit the earth. Arrested in its course, the line wavers, fires a
few volleys, then scatters like chaff. It was now about dusk, and
many of the Twenty-seventh who had remained on the field after the
withdrawal of our division, retired into the city. At the edge of
the plateau, where a battery was stationed, mounted officers were
endeavoring to rally into some sort of order the shattered remnants
of the division, whose magnificent charge we have just described.

The aspect of Fredericksburg that night cannot be adequately
described. Lines of troops were under arms in the streets, ready to
meet the enemy should they attempt to follow up their advantage and
drive the army across the river. Crowds of soldiers, all excited
by the events of the day, moved rapidly along the sidewalks.
Processions of stretcher bearers tenderly conveyed their mangled
freight to the hospitals. The eloquent red flag waved from almost
every house, suggesting that the surgeons were diligently at work,
while the glare of candles from the windows added to the wildness
of the scene without.

The next day was the Sabbath, bright and clear overhead, but
inexpressibly sad to us; for one third of the three hundred and
seventy-five who followed the colors of the Twenty-seventh into
battle, lay dead on the field, or wounded in the hospital. That
forenoon was spent in cleaning our guns, in anticipation of further
fighting. The Connecticut Brigade, under General Harland, was
drawn up in line of battle on the main street, under orders to be
ready at any moment to charge up the heights. As will subsequently
appear, they were spared this perilous duty. Occasionally a
resident of the town came timidly forth from his hiding-place, or
a family, loaded down with bundles of household effects, slowly
wended their way across the pontoon bridge, to escape the terrors
surrounding them. A disagreeable uncertainty hung over every moment
of the day, and when we awoke on the morning of the fifteenth,
nothing had transpired to diminish our suspense. It was plain that
something must be done, and that very soon. Delay only added to the
difficulties of the situation. The army must fight, or evacuate the
city. Every few minutes during the day we were ordered to fall in.
The expectation was universal that we were again to be led to the
attack. Hour after hour processions of ambulances moved across the
pontoon bridge, and up the opposite bank, so that by evening the
town was nearly empty of the wounded. General Burnside rode by and
received a hearty welcome. Evidently a movement of some kind was
soon to be made. A short time after dark the division was ordered
under arms, and all, except the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, marched
down Water street toward the railway bridge. Our little band stood
waiting thus during the evening, in momentary expectation of being
led out to support the pickets. At length orders were received to
advance a few hundred yards below the railroad. As we arrived, the
rest of the brigade silently arose from the ground where they had
been sleeping, and like spectres vanished in the darkness. Here we
remained until near midnight, obtaining what sleep was possible,
then noiselessly fell in, and without a word spoken above a
whisper, retired rapidly down the street to the pontoon bridge. The
streets were as silent as death. A few soldiers were preparing to
loosen the moorings which held the pontoons to the banks. After a
brief halt, the Twenty-seventh, carrying a few boxes of ammunition,
re-crossed the river by the same bridge on which they had entered
the city four days before. On the road to Falmouth we met General
Hancock, who asked, “What regiment is this?” and being informed,
the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, expressed his great satisfaction
with the conduct of the regiment in the events of the last few
days. After losing our way in the darkness, and experiencing a
heavy rain-storm, we arrived at our old camp ground on the morning
of the sixteenth.

All unconscious of the night’s events, the rebels threw a few
shells into the town, and meeting no response, crept cautiously
down from their fortifications, expecting to find our forces
concealed under the banks of the river. But no pickets challenged
their advance: the Union army had slipped from their grasp, the
pontoons were up, and thus was accomplished one of the most skilful
movements recorded in military history.




CHAPTER IV.

CAMP NEAR FALMOUTH.


The failure at Fredericksburg, considered in itself, and especially
in connection with its causes, was well calculated to produce
much discouragement throughout the entire army. On the eleventh
of December the troops streamed forth from their camps, confident
in their ability to drive the foe from Marye’s Heights, and hurl
him back to Richmond. On the sixteenth they returned, baffled and
dispirited, having lost twelve thousand men in fruitless efforts
to overcome the natural and artificial advantages of the rebel
position. The fearful scenes of a battle may well impress the
veteran of many conflicts; but when, for the first time, a regiment
meets the enemy with every advantage in favor of the latter, and
when the list of killed and wounded swells to unusual proportions,
and nothing is accomplished by this expense of life and energy,
it is no sign of weakness that despondency and gloom for a time
prevail. Such a feeling, resulting from failure in the campaign,
and from the loss of a large number of our most esteemed officers
and men, pervaded the Twenty-seventh in common with the rest of
the army. The loss of such men as Captains Schweizer and Taylor,
Sergeants Barrett and Fowler, Corporals Mimmac and Alling, and
many others, men of high character, who went to the field purely
from a sense of duty--such men in their death could not fail to
leave behind, among their fellow soldiers, a universal sorrow,
reaching to the very depths of the heart. The memory of those who
fell on the thirteenth of December, and many of whom lie in unknown
graves back of Fredericksburg, will never lose its freshness,
but rather grow in strength as the history of future years adds
significance to the conflicts of the present.

Fortunately for the success of Burnside’s plan of evacuation,
his operations were concealed in the darkness of a severe storm,
which had not terminated when we arrived in our former camp on
the morning of the sixteenth. In the afternoon the two hundred
and fifty men of the Twenty-seventh who had been picketing along
the Rappahannock for the previous six days, rejoined us, many of
them much exhausted by their unusually prolonged duties. Expecting
to be absent from the regiment only a day, the ordinary limit of
picket duty at one time, the party took with them only one day’s
rations, and in the confusion attending the movement of troops and
the battle, rations for the additional time could be procured but
irregularly and in insufficient quantities.

According to orders, the camp was now moved to a strip of pine
woods skirting the west side of the division parade-ground. But
this was not to be our permanent location; and after manœuvring
for several days from one place to another, we at length encamped
in the edge of a forest, only a few rods from where we first
pitched our tents, on the line of the Rappahannock. An elevated
plain stretched away between us and the river, and above a slight
depression the clustered spires of Fredericksburg rose to view,
from whose belfreys, on a Sabbath morning, we could sometimes hear
the summons to the house of God. A walk of a few rods brought us in
full view of the city, sitting in calm quiet among the hills, while
long red lines told where the rebel earthworks lay, and little
specks of white in the background disclosed the enemy’s camps.
Just under the edge of the bluff to our right, and concealed from
view, was the village of Falmouth, a mongrel collection of houses
arranged along dirty, unpaved streets.

Although intimations were thrown out that the army would now go
into winter quarters, yet it was nearly two weeks before our men
could dispossess themselves of the idea that some fine morning the
old stereotyped order, “Strike tents and pack knapsacks!” would
scatter to the winds their plans of personal comfort.

As soon as it was evident that no further movements would be made,
the men vigorously applied themselves to the work of building
huts, devoting the mornings to this labor, while brigade drill
occupied the afternoon. In the hundred and thirty log houses of
our little regimental village was embraced an amount of comfort
wholly inconceivable by those who know nothing of the numerous
contrivances a soldier’s ingenuity can suggest to supply the place
of ordinary conveniences. Generally, four congenial minds would
unite their mechanical resources. A pine forest within reasonable
distance, an axe and a shovel, one of Uncle Sam’s mule teams,
and a moderate degree of ingenuity, constitute the only capital
of these camp carpenters. Having secured a favorable site, ten
by seven, these comrades in bunk sally forth to the neighboring
grove, and before their sturdy blows the old pines come crashing
down, are split into slabs of the required length, and in due time
reach their destination in camp. After smoothing the ground, and
carefully removing stumps, the logs are hewn out and placed one
above another, with the ends dove-tailed together, or set upright
side by side in trenches, and soon the huts assume their full
proportions--seven feet by ten. Every man now becomes a mason. The
surrounding region is ransacked for stone and brick, with which to
construct a fire-place at the front end. While this important work
is going on, another is vigorously plying his wooden trowel, in
plastering up the fissures with clay, on the principle that nothing
is without its use, even Virginia mud. The roof is made of thin
shelter-tents, buttoned together. As regards internal arrangements,
at the further end are two bunks, one above the other; and as the
upholsterer has not performed his part, and very likely never
will, the occupants must content themselves with the soft side of
pine slabs. On one side of the hut is a rack for the reception of
guns and equipments, while at the other a cracker-box cover on
stilts does duty as a table. In respect to seats, the ingenuity
of different individuals showed itself in rudely constructed
benches, or square boards, elevated on three-pronged crotchets,
obtained in the woods, or was satisfied with the trunk of a tree
cut into suitable lengths. Over the fire-place a mantle was
generally located, containing a confused collection of tin plates
and cups, knives and forks, and an endless variety of rubbish. In
winter quarters it is very desirable to have a liberal supply of
culinary furniture. The man whose fire-place is adorned with an
iron frying-pan, is an object of envy to all his comrades, and is
universally agreed to have reached the acme of comfort. However,
the halves of old canteens, fitted with handles, answer very well
in its place. In many of the huts, telegraph wire might be found
doing service in the shape of a gridiron, upon which an occasional
steak is broiled. Very likely, in its appropriate place is a
coffee-pot, perhaps of the plantation style, two feet high, and
large in proportion, which some argus-eyed soldier has observed and
quietly confiscated.

Our huts were now nearly completed, and with no little satisfaction
we surveyed their rough architecture, pork-barrel chimneys, and
cracker-box doors, feeling that though the winds might blow, and
the rainy season pour down its floods, we were prepared to endure
it patiently. When the army has just completed its preparations
for a comfortable time, it is safe to prophesy marching orders
within three days thereafter. So it proved in the present instance.
At dress parade, on the sixteenth of January, an order was read
for the regiment to be ready to march on the next day with three
days’ rations. Details were dispatched at midnight to the Brigade
Commissary’s, after rations, and in good season on the seventeenth
we were ready to start; but no final orders came, and it was
bruited about that General J. E. B. Stuart, while roving around
Dumfries and Alexandria with his rebel cavalry, in the absence of
General Burnside in Washington, had telegraphed an order, as if
from him, for the army to be ready to move. This is of a piece with
a joke Stuart perpetrated on another occasion, when in the name of
a Union General he telegraphed to Washington for certain stores,
and is reported to have received them in good order.

On the eighteenth, Generals Burnside and Sumner reviewed our
Army Corps. In the afternoon of the twentieth, an order was read,
announcing that the army was “about to meet the enemy once more.
The auspicious moment had arrived to strike a great and mortal blow
at the rebellion, and to gain that decisive victory due to the
country.” The plan was for Hooker and Franklin to cross at Banks’s
Ford, six miles above Falmouth, and capture Taylor’s Hill, the
key of the position, from which they could advance in the rear of
Fredericksburg, and turn the enemy’s flank. This being done, Sumner
with his grand division, to which the Twenty-seventh belonged,
was to cross directly in front of the city at the old place, and
take the batteries which had baffled our efforts in the battle of
December thirteenth. The plan was substantially the same as the
previous one, except that the flank movement was to be made upon
the rebel left wing instead of his right. The failure of December
resulted from the inefficiency of Franklin’s flank demonstration,
which allowed the enemy to mass his forces in front of Sumner. But
now it was proposed to use two corps in the preliminary movement,
and, provided they were successful in taking Taylor’s Hill,
Sumner’s success would be assured, notwithstanding the rebels had
been engaged for a month previous in strengthening and extending
their works. Hooker and Franklin were in motion on the twentieth,
while impetuous Sumner waited in his camps to hear the signal which
should summon his veteran legions to the conflict. For several
days, artillery and pontoons had been passing camp _en route_ for
Banks’s Ford. If the weather continues favorable, the morrow will
bring to our ears the boom of a hundred and fifty cannon.

But one of those strange events beyond man’s power to avert
disconcerts the whole plan. Instead of the roar of artillery, the
unwelcome sound of rain salutes our ears the next morning, and
continues for several days. Impassable roads, guns and pontoons
fast in the mud, men toiling slowly along, or pulling at the boats,
add a new page to the chapter of misfortune which had followed
the noble Army of the Potomac. The rebels briefly summed up this
last advance in these laconic words, “Burnside stuck in the mud!”
which they impudently displayed from their picket-line, derisively
inquiring when the “auspicious moment” would arrive. The rainy
season had now set in in good earnest, and the wearied troops
returned to their camps to await the advent of spring.

The progress of events had already foreshadowed a change of
commanders, and on the twenty-ninth of January general orders
were read announcing that General Burnside had been relieved, and
the accession of Joe Hooker. The brief two months of Burnside’s
command had secured for him the sincere respect of the whole
army. His honesty of purpose could not be impeached, and none
felt more keenly than himself the ill success which had attended
him. History, in summing up his campaign, will assign no small
significance to the fact that Burnside did not receive the hearty
coöperation of his subordinate commanders. He possessed an
excessive self-distrust, and it was creditable to his candor to
confess it; yet it is a question whether this distrust did not
reäct unfavorably upon the officers and men of his command. Condemn
it as we may, the boastful self-confidence of Hooker had no little
influence in reïnspiring the army with that self-reliance which
forms an important item in the calculations of success.

The advent of General Hooker was signalized by the abolition of
the grand divisions, and a return to the simpler organization of
_Corps d’Armée_. And what was of more consequence to the soldiers,
an order was published directing the issue of four rations of fresh
bread and fresh beef, and two rations of potatoes per week, with an
occasional supply of other vegetables. This measure went right to
the hearts of the army, for it must be confessed, and it is nothing
to their disgrace, that the hearts of soldiers are very near, if
not actually in, their stomachs. For an army is a great physical
machine, expending a vast amount of animal power, and requiring
careful attention to its animal wants to secure the highest moral
efficiency.

From the battle of Fredericksburg to Hooker’s move in the spring
of 1863, the Twenty-seventh was engaged in picket duty along the
Rappahannock, whose banks are as familiar to the men almost as
the walks of childhood. Every other day, at seven in the morning,
our quota of the division picket, equipped with blankets and one
day’s rations, formed in front of the Colonel’s tent, and, after
inspection, marched a mile to General Hancock’s headquarters to
undergo another inspection, after which a march of two or three
miles brought them to the line of the river. The fact that three
fourths of the time it was either rainy, or snowing, or cold
and blustering, will give some idea of the arduous character of
picket duty. By mutual agreement, the custom of picket firing, so
annoying and useless, was discontinued, and friendly intercourse
was no uncommon event; which latter practice, though harmless in
itself, was yet so liable to make trouble that it was prohibited
by special order. Frequently the rebels launched out on the river
their diminutive craft, laden with tobacco and the latest Richmond
papers, and bearing a note to “Gentlemen of the United States,”
requesting an interchange of commodities.

February twenty-second, we experienced the severest snow-storm of
the season. At noon, through the thick mist of snow-flakes, came
the deep boom of cannon, swelling into a loud chorus, from the
adjacent batteries, answered by the low, muffled murmur of the
distant discharge. In every direction salutes were being fired in
honor of Washington’s birthday. The time and place gave additional
interest to this demonstration of respect for the Father of his
Country, for this region is intimately connected with his history.
Here he lived, and here are his descendants to this day, while on
the other side of the Rappahannock a simple tomb marks his mother’s
resting-place.

March fifth, General Hooker reviewed the Second Army Corps, on a
large plain, near Hancock’s headquarters. The corps was drawn up in
nine lines by brigade, in all nearly fifteen thousand men. General
Hooker and General Couch, the then corps commander, with their
brilliant and numerous staffs, rode rapidly up and down the several
lines, while the men presented arms. Then taking position in front,
the brigades marched by in column by company. Nothing was more
impressive than the sight of the many regiments reduced to a mere
fragment of their former strength--a silently eloquent commentary
upon the inscriptions on their banners.

The rapid advance of spring, and Hooker’s known determination to
move on the enemy at the earliest possible moment, led to much
speculation as to the plan of the new campaign. Before the close of
March, intimations were thrown out that the army must expect soon
to take the field. Daily balloon ascensions were made at several
points on the river, in order to ascertain the position of the
rebels. As an illustration of “Fighting Joe’s” cool assurance, it
was currently reported that one day he sent his balloon directly
over the city of Fredericksburg, having previously notified the
commandant that any molestation would meet with condign punishment
from his batteries. The comparative nearness of our camp to the
river afforded good opportunities for observing any change on the
rebel side, and the probability that we should have to cross in
front of the city in any future movement, whetted our curiosity.
The rebels had been actively engaged all winter in strengthening
their position, and now dark lines of rifle-pits and earthworks
frowned from the bluffs for miles up and down the banks, commanding
every available crossing. As may well be imagined, the prospect was
by no means inviting.




CHAPTER V.

CHANCELLORSVILLE.


April eighth, the Twenty-seventh participated in the grand review
of the Army of the Potomac by President Lincoln, preparatory to
opening the spring campaign. Fifty or sixty thousand men were in
line, and probably the army was never in better condition than at
that time.

One week later, orders were received to supply the men with eight
days’ rations, five to be carried in their knapsacks, and three
in their haversacks. Overcoats, dress coats, and everything which
could possibly be dispensed with, were to be turned in to the
Quartermaster. Each day company inspections were held, to see that
the men were prepared as the orders directed. About this time the
regiment was transferred to the Fourth Brigade, under the command
of Colonel J. R. Brooke, of the Fifty-third Pennsylvania. A storm
of two days’ duration postponed the forward movement a short
time, but by the twenty-seventh of the month the weather became
tolerably settled, and now began a campaign which it was fondly
hoped would result in the capture of Richmond. In the morning we
sent out an additional picket of over three hundred men, leaving
hardly a corporal’s guard in camp. All day artillery and cavalry,
pack-mules and wagon-trains, were passing camp, on their way to the
right. Late in the evening, orders came to strike tents, pack up as
quietly as possible, and report on the division parade at daybreak.
Our pickets returned at two o’clock the next morning. The camp was
now full of bustling preparation. The huts all illuminated; the
eager hum of voices; men hurrying to and fro; the decided tones of
command, combined to form a scene of excitement nowhere found but
in the army. At daybreak the regiment fell in, and bade farewell
to the dismantled camp, to enter upon an experience none of us had
ever contemplated as likely to fall to our lot.

Camp near Falmouth will linger vividly in memory, when other more
startling scenes of army life have faded into oblivion. Our four
months’ residence witnessed a complete change in the face of the
country. A few stumps, or a solitary tree, were all that was left
of the forests which, four months before, waved over a hundred
square miles of territory. Here and there a house, tenantless,
fenceless, and dingy, or a blackened ruin, with only a bare chimney
standing, loomed above the naked landscape, a picture of complete
desolation.

The division having assembled near General Hancock’s headquarters,
began the march for United States Ford, at seven in the morning.
We passed many deserted encampments, whose late occupants, like
ourselves, were on the move. Instead of following the direct
course of the river up to the Ford, which was only ten miles above
Falmouth, we pursued a very circuitous route, and, after an easy
march, halted in a strip of woods, where we encamped for the night.
The next day, at evening, we had just pitched our tents and built
fires, and were in the act of making coffee, and frying a bit of
pork or beef, when the order came for the Twenty-seventh to fall in
with all possible dispatch. Suppers were thrust into haversacks,
without much regard to order, and in a few moments the regiment
marched off about a mile, to picket in the woods. This duty
occupied us until the next afternoon, when we were relieved, and
hastened on to overtake the rest of the brigade, which had already
broken camp. During the night previous a light fall of rain took
place, just enough, however, to put the roads in bad condition. All
along the route, pioneers were thrown out in advance, to corduroy
the worst places for the passage of the trains. As far as the eye
could reach, a continuous line of army wagons filled the road,
urging their way forward with the greatest difficulty. The woods on
either hand rang with the sharp crack of the teamsters’ whips, and
simultaneously a chorus of wild shouts burst from the driver and
the men pushing at the wheels, while high above the din rose shrill
cries, resembling the notes of the screech-owl. Then, with a quick,
jerking jump, the nimble mules landed the team in the next rut, to
await the reception of the same magical sounds.

Advancing to within a short distance of the Ford, the corps halted
to await the completion of the preparations for crossing. The sun
now burst forth from the canopy of clouds as if in glad sympathy
with the exhilaration which pervaded all hearts in consequence of
the encouraging news from the front. A dispatch from General Hooker
announced that the success of the Fifth, Eleventh, and Twelfth
Corps was all that could be desired, and that the rebels were
retiring. These corps broke camp early on Monday morning, April
twenty-seventh, and took the route to Kelly’s Ford, twenty-five
miles above Fredericksburg. The pontoons were laid and a crossing
effected on the following day, with very little opposition, and the
troops pushed forward rapidly to Germania Ford, on the Rapidan,
for the purpose of concentrating at Chancellorsville. General
Stoneman, with his cavalry, crossed on Wednesday, to enter upon
the grand raid which the _Richmond Examiner_ characterized as
the “most audacious enterprise of the war.” The diversion from
Germania caused the rebels to evacuate their works in front of
the United States Ford, so that no molestation was offered when
the pontoons were laid for the passage of the Second Corps. Late
in the afternoon of April thirtieth, we moved rapidly down the
abrupt, woody bank, and once more, set foot on the south side of
the Rappahannock. A line of well-constructed rifle-pits, with
more elaborate works for cannon, at intervals of several hundred
yards, commanded the crossing. In their hasty retreat the rebels
left behind two pieces of artillery spiked. Only a few miles now
separated us from the scene of operations, and after marching
through woods, and over muddy roads, rendered infinitely worse
by the constant passage of troops, we bivouacked for the night a
short distance from the Chancellor House, a large brick mansion,
so called from its occupant, V. Chancellor. This residence was
situated about five miles from United States Ford, and about ten
miles southwest of Fredericksburg, at the junction of the plank
road to Gordonsville and the Orange County turnpike. A shapeless
mass of ruins is all that now remains of what gave name to one of
the most remarkable battles of the war.

Save an occasional discharge of cannon, the forenoon of May first
was spent in comparative quiet, neither party seeming disposed to
inaugurate the conflict. Movements, however, were in progress with
a view to ascertain the enemy’s position. In the afternoon the
Twenty-seventh participated in a reconnoissance for this purpose,
which came very near proving an affair of no little importance.
Leaving our bivouack in the woods, we advanced down the road by the
Chancellor House, and ascending a gentle elevation, turned aside
into an open lot on the left, near a small dwelling, afterward
occupied by General Lee as his headquarters. Here a section of
artillery was exchanging compliments in a lively manner with a
rebel battery, a short distance up the road. Several companies
were immediately deployed as skirmishers, with the remainder as
a support, and advanced through the woods to feel the enemy’s
position, and develop his strength. Suddenly the artillery limbered
up, the skirmishers were called in, and the reconnoitering force
retired to the rear at double-quick. This movement was rendered
necessary by an advance of the enemy, seriously threatening
our right flank; but they were foiled in the attempt, and fell
back before a stubborn fire of musketry and artillery. For a
few moments we remained in line of battle in the open ground
near the Chancellor House, then, moving down the road a short
distance, deployed through the thick and tangled woods on the left.
Appearances indicated that the rebels were about to charge down
from the ridge from which we had just retired, but they contented
themselves with shelling us furiously with their batteries. Long
before the cannonade ceased, the mellow twilight of a May evening
had passed into the darkness of night, adding to the fearful
sublimity of the scene, as the rebel guns woke the sleeping forest
echoes, and shells careered wildly through the air, and crashed
among the trees. Quietly resting on the ground, we wait for the
iron storm to pass. No sooner has the last shell swept over our
heads and burst into numberless fragments, than we enter upon the
night’s work, of intrenching our position against the anticipated
attack of the morrow. The rebels were apparently engaged in similar
work just across the ravine. It was a busy and exciting scene along
the lines of the army that night. The rapid strokes of axemen,
followed by the dull sound of falling trees, rang through the woods
in every direction. Details of men were at hand to put the logs in
position, while others dug a trench in the rear, and heaped the
soil upon them. For some distance in front of the breastworks,
trees were cut down for the purpose of obstructing the enemy’s
advance. After the completion of our intrenchments, we rested under
arms, and at daybreak, May second, as silently as possible, marched
out into the road, and past the Chancellor House, and took a new
position in Hooker’s line of battle. The rebels soon entered the
place we had just left, which, however, was of very little value to
them, and could easily be reöccupied when circumstances required.
We spent the forenoon in building breastworks, while on the other
parts of the line there was much skirmishing, and several sharp
fights. At intervals during the day the enemy opened upon us with
shot and shell, discovering our position by the smoke curling above
the trees from the camp fires. At noon, when rations were being
dealt out to the companies, the rebel gunners, doubtless tantalized
by the display, seemed determined to involve commissaries and
rations in one common ruin.

Several days had now passed in the usual preliminaries to a battle.
Hooker had succeeded in drawing the main force of the rebels
from their works in the rear of Fredericksburg, and was himself
well intrenched in the dense woods skirting the plank road, and
most appropriately called the Wilderness. The line of battle of
the Union forces formed a broad wedge, whose base rested on the
Rappahannock, the apex terminating at the extreme front beyond the
Chancellor House. The Eleventh Corps held the extreme right, and
next in order were the Third, Twelfth, and Second, while the Fifth
occupied the left.

Lee is said to have issued orders to his troops to break this line,
at all hazards. A brief calm followed the desultory movements of
the day. The men stood in their places behind the breastworks,
gazing into the woods in front, eagerly listening to hear the first
sound which should tell where the rebel blow would strike. At four
o’clock in the afternoon, the enemy advanced in heavy force down
the plank road, and began the attack in the neighborhood of the
intrenchments we had thrown up the night before. The rapid fire
of musketry on our right indicated a serious attempt to pierce
the centre of the Union line. Under cover of this movement, the
indomitable Jackson advanced his hordes through the woods, and
hurled their solid array on Hooker’s right wing, directly in rear
of our present position. Let the Eleventh Corps stand firm, and
victory will rest on our banners ere the close of day. The current
history of the hour tells us how the crisis was met. But more
expressive than history itself was the wild shout of triumph that
burst from one end of the rebel line to the other, as it swept
over the earthworks, and saw the panic-stricken corps dashing
madly to the rear. Who can describe the almost breathless interest
with which we listened to the fluctuations of the conflict? Now
the avalanche of the enemy is stayed a moment in its course; then
nearer and nearer approaches the sound of battle, and it seems
as if the next instant the foe will dash in upon our rear. A
portion of the Second Corps hurries away to the scene of strife,
and General Hancock, every nerve strung to the highest pitch
of excitement, rides up to inform the Colonel that probably we
should not be called into action, but were to hold our position,
and that in case of necessity we could fight on either side of
our breastworks, plainly pointing to the possibility that the
enemy may attack in the rear. Through the woods behind us we can
see batteries of artillery rushing into position near Hooker’s
headquarters, and in a few moments the forest trembles with the
terrific cannonade, vying with the thunders of heaven in the
compass of its sound. In the distance the deep, prolonged boom of a
hundred-pounder swells the bass notes of the chorus. Double-shotted
with grape and canister, the field-pieces sweep the rebel line with
murderous effect. At length darkness put an end to this sublime
exhibition of human power. The frightened whippoorwills ceased
their plaintive cries; the quiet moon rose over the bloody field,
and Nature sank into a silence fairly oppressive. We remained under
arms most of the night, frequently changing our position as the
emergency required.

At eleven o’clock occurred one of those episodes of warfare which,
in startling grandeur and terrible magnificence, well-nigh border
on the supernatural. The forces of Hooker and Lee were resting
on their arms, renewing their energies with an hour of broken
slumber, and ready to rush to battle at the first flash of dawn.
The air was perfectly still and serene, transmitting the rays of
the moon with unusual brilliancy. Scarcely a sound disturbed the
painful silence of the almost interminable woods. All at once the
artillery, massed on the ridge hardly half a mile behind us, with
one tremendous crash poured in its fire upon the enemy’s position,
covering the charge of a division of infantry. The thunder of
musketry and artillery reverberated through the forest with an
effect inconceivably grand.

At the earliest moment on Sabbath morning, May third, the battle
was renewed, but apparently with less vigor than on the preceding
day, and yet, as brigade after brigade became engaged, and the
almost unexampled roar of musketry rolled along the line, it
was evident that the enemy were about to follow up, with even
greater desperation, the advantage already gained. Immediately
after breakfast, the Twenty-seventh, with the exception of two
companies--D and F, engaged in other duty--was ordered down into
the intrenchments we had thrown up, near the apex of the wedge,
the Friday night previous. These works now formed a part of the
picket-line of the army, and from the nature of the position and
its relation to the movements of the enemy, a large force was
required in order to hold it. As is usual in such cases, when
a picket in force is ordered, the colors did not accompany the
column. As the regiment advanced, at double-quick, down the hill
into the ravine, it was met by a heavy fire of musketry. A number
were wounded, and several shot through the head, just as they
entered the breastworks. One or two regiments whose ammunition
was exhausted, were gradually drawn off in small squads. Not
succeeding in their first attempt, the rebels made no further
attack in force upon our part of the line, but, concealed in the
thick woods, continually annoyed us with a scattering fire. The men
replied as they had opportunity, and with considerable effect, as
the rebels themselves afterward acknowledged. Colonel Bostwick was
particularly noticeable for the almost reckless exposure of himself
to the enemy’s fire, while attending to his duties at different
points in the line. Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin reminded him several
times of the great danger he incurred, as he stood on a slightly
rising ground to the rear of the rifle-pits, a conspicuous object
for some rebel bullet.

While the conflict was culminating in other parts of the field,
the enemy in our immediate front were not so idle as appearances
indicated. Looking through the woods, we could indistinctly see
a large body of infantry making a wide circuit to the right,
seemingly with a view to attack some remote part of the line. A
similar movement took place also to the left. “Look out on the
right!” “Look out on the left!” passed up and down the line, and
every man was on the alert, ready to meet them should they attempt
to carry our intrenchments.

Suddenly, from unseen batteries behind us, comes a deep roar,
and the next moment shell after shell shrieks through the trees
and bursts almost in the rifle-pits. The thought flashes upon
us that the rebels are in our rear, but is dismissed with the
reflection that it is only a Union battery firing too low, and
will soon correct its false range. Meanwhile our little band had
been reduced to less than four hundred men, embracing two hundred
and seventy of the Twenty-seventh, with small portions of the
One Hundred and Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second Delaware; and
this force being entirely inadequate to hold the extended line,
Colonel Bostwick dispatched Major Coburn to General Hancock for
reënforcements. In a few moments the shelling ceased, and far up
the road in front appeared a rebel officer waving a flag of truce,
and slowly advancing, waiting for a recognition. The men stopped
firing in the immediate vicinity of the road, while for a moment
the musketry became more brisk on the left flank. At length the
rebel officer arrived within a few paces of the works, where he was
halted, to await the presence of Colonel Morris, of the Sixty-sixth
New-York, commanding the whole line. This officer was not to be
found, and the responsibility of receiving the communication
from the flag of truce devolved upon Colonel Bostwick, of the
Twenty-seventh. The rebel--a tall, rough specimen, and yet with
the manner of a gentleman--announced himself as Lieutenant Bailey,
of a Georgia regiment; that he had been sent to inform us that we
were entirely surrounded; that there was no possible avenue of
escape, and therefore he summoned us to surrender, and thus avoid
the loss of life which would inevitably follow any resistance to
the overwhelming force in front and rear. The Colonel replied that
he did not “see” it, and proceeded to investigate the actual state
of affairs. Meanwhile Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin went up through the
woods in the rear only to find it too true that the rebels were
posted in strong force, to bar any escape in that direction. Masses
of the enemy pouring in on the right and left, revealed at once
the desperate position in which we were placed, while the singing
bullets from the woods behind as well as in front, indicated that
the foe were closing in upon us. The first impulse among officers
and men was to attempt to force our way through. But it was evident
that such a course would result in the destruction of more than
half our number, while the remainder would inevitably fall into
the hands of the enemy. After a hurried consultation among the
officers, a surrender was agreed upon, and the formality had hardly
been completed, when a heavy line of rebel skirmishers swept out
of the woods behind. Only five minutes before, the men stood at
their posts undisturbed by even a doubt of their security; now,
astonished at the sudden _denouement_, we found ourselves about to
enter upon the terrible uncertainties of rebel captivity. And this
surprise and mortification was increased by the conviction that
serious disaster must have overtaken the Union army. The history of
the day establishes the fact, that Saturday’s misfortune, and the
subsequent operations of Sunday morning, compelled the formation of
a new line of battle. The surging conflict had gradually crowded
Hooker back, and late in the afternoon the army retired, by his
order, to a position some distance in rear of the Chancellor House.
As General Hancock afterward stated, orders were sent down to the
Twenty-seventh to fall back at the same time, but they failed to
reach us; and while the rest of the army had retreated to the new
line, the Twenty-seventh still remained at the extreme front of the
old, entirely unconscious of this change of position. Our situation
in a ravine, surrounded by dense woods, rendered it impossible
to observe the movements going on in other parts of the extended
field. The enemy, already aware of Hooker’s withdrawal, immediately
planted a battery behind us, supported, as one of the rebels
afterward said, by two brigades of infantry.

The experience of Major Coburn immediately after the shelling,
while _en route_ to deliver the Colonel’s request to General
Hancock, more than confirms this statement. On his way to the rear
he was accompanied by one of our sergeants, severely wounded in
the early part of the action. They had passed hardly half a mile
through the woods when they were taken prisoners, and the Major was
conducted into the road, where he found a large part of Stonewall
Jackson’s corps, under command of Major-General Anderson. Already
they had formed their skirmish line and were crowding forward with
all possible speed, certain of their prey. Outnumbered on every
hand, and with batteries in front and rear, it would have been
madness to have attempted to force our way through in the face of
such odds. The gallant Brooke, with characteristic bravery, when
he heard the firing, volunteered to charge down with his brigade
to our relief, but General Hancock refused permission, for fear of
bringing on a general engagement while the army was changing its
position.




CHAPTER VI.

ON TO RICHMOND.


Let us now return to the little band of prisoners in that woody
ravine. As soon as the surrender had been consummated the men
threw away their guns, many of them with the cartridges, into a
rivulet near the intrenchments, and some cut up their equipments,
determined to afford as little aid and comfort to the rebels as
possible. Our newly-made acquaintances exhibited a most remarkable
_penchant_ for cutlery and other conveniences Yankees are always
supposed to have in their possession. One of the rebel skirmishers
had hardly lowered his gun from an aim, when he walked up to one
of our men and said: “Have you got a knife to sell?” “No;” and
somewhat abashed, he went off to try his luck in a more promising
field. We were now ordered to fall in, and a part were marched up
the road to General Lee’s headquarters, where the rebels took away
our knapsacks, rubber blankets, shelter-tents, and canteens, and
registered our names. Quite a crowd of butternuts assembled to view
the “Yanks” and prosecute their schemes of trade.

While we were near headquarters, a General of high rank rode up,
unattended by his staff, and was received among his soldiers with
a style of cheering or yelling peculiar to themselves. The rebel
chief seemed lost in deep thought, scarcely noticing the squad of
prisoners or the cheers of his men. The signs of care were strongly
marked upon his iron countenance. Clad in simple garb, with no
prominent badge of distinction, calm and determined in demeanor,
stood before us the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia,
the military pillar of the rebellion. The General hurriedly
retired into his quarters, and our attention was attracted by a
motley array of rebel soldiery marching up the road. Could we have
forgotten the stern realities of our situation, we might well
have regarded the display as a military burlesque. On a closer
inspection, we found the butternut phalanx to be composed of tall,
lank specimens of “poor white trash,” with hats slouched in the
most approved style, and knapsacks of every conceivable variety.
The officers were, many of them, equipped with swords of a most
ancient description, which had already filled a term of service in
the olden time. Here is a man with a very good blanket, and we soon
see the letters U.S. displayed under the folds, while on another
back is strapped an old piece of carpet. A more dirty, seedy,
ill-favored, border-ruffian, ignorant set of men we had never
met before, and this is just the material for an efficient army,
marshalled in defence of treason and slavery.

The preparations were now completed, and under a strong guard we
started off for Spottsylvania Court-House. The roads were full
of Confederate wounded, moving to the rear. Our route crossed a
section of the battle-field, but all was now quiet; only splintered
trees and lines of breastworks told of the fierce conflicts of
the last few days. At dusk we entered the now historic town of
Spottsylvania, and passed the night within the inclosure of the
Court-House. A portion of the regiment remained in the vicinity
of the battle ground, and did not reach the village until the
following afternoon. On the morning of May fourth we resumed our
march for Guinea’s Station, a small hamlet on the Richmond and
Fredericksburg railroad, important as a dépôt of supplies for Lee’s
army. Here seemed to be the general rendezvous of prisoners, and
fifteen hundred had already been assembled previous to our arrival.
Near the station was the house where Stonewall Jackson lay wounded
and afterward died, an event which clothed the whole Confederacy
in mourning. Our stay at Guinea’s Station was prolonged until
Thursday, May seventh--three days of misery, hardly paralleled
in any of the experiences of the whole nine months’ campaign.
Tuesday dawned upon us intensely hot. The broiling rays of the
sun seemed to concentrate upon the large open lot occupied by
the Union prisoners, unrelieved even by a solitary tree. Later
in the day a terrific thunder shower burst upon us, passing at
length into a settled storm, bitterly raw and cold, continuing
all night and the next day at short intervals. The rain poured in
torrents, flowing in streams across the lot. A ludicrous sight,
indeed, were the nearly two thousand shelterless men, emphatically
squatter sovereigns, scattered about over the field in speechless
resignation, drenched through and through in the pelting storm.

Thus far we had subsisted on the scanty remains of Uncle Sam’s
rations. “What a fall was there!” when we descended from Joe
Hooker’s generous hospitality to the frugal fare doled out to us by
the rebel commissary. A brief residence at one of Jeff.’s hotels
is an infallible remedy for all who are disposed to grumble at
army food. The order is given, “Fall in for rations!” We had almost
concluded that this order would never again greet our ears until we
should once more stand under the flag of the Union. Immediately our
thoughts recurred to camp near Falmouth, and in imagination floated
visions of beef, pork, hard-tack, fresh bread--in fact, Uncle Sam’s
army ration loomed up in bolder relief than ever before. In silent
suspense we advance and receive--three pints of flour apiece. The
inquiry arose, What shall we do with it? Our extremely limited
culinary facilities soon settled that question. There was but
one alternative, and the men immediately built little fires and
were busily engaged in cooking up a bill of fare for the march to
Richmond, said bill of fare consisting simply of flour and water
mixed together and dried before the fire. A New-England farmer
would regard it as a personal insult if one should offer such stuff
to his hogs. Even a swill-carrier would indignantly protest.

Many suggestive sights fed our curiosity. Processions of trains
were constantly coming and going from the station, transporting
supplies for Lee’s army. Shabby army wagons--regular Noah’s
arks mounted on wheels--horses and mules reduced to mere skin
and bone--every thing foreshadowed the ruin of the Confederacy.
Thursday morning, May seventh, we began the march for Richmond,
escorted by the Twelfth South Carolina. The roads were in an awful
condition, in consequence of recent rains. On the route we passed
through Bowling Green, a few miles east of the railroad, and by
evening reached Milford Station. Just beyond the village we were
obliged to wade the Mattapony river, and halted for the night in a
forest near by. After a toilsome march, we bivouacked, on Friday
evening, a short distance beyond Hanover Station. At this place
each man received five medium-sized crackers and an ounce of bacon.
Our guards were very incommunicative, but occasionally sung out,
“Git in yer groups of fours dar!” or ventured an “I reckon,” or a
“right smart.”

May ninth seemed to concentrate and intensify all previous
discomforts. The day was exceedingly hot, and our route lay
through a succession of vile swamps, skirting the Pamunkey and
Chickahominy rivers, and extending to within four or five miles
of Richmond. Here the ground is somewhat higher, and pleasant
villas nestle among the trees, now just assuming the verdure of
spring. As we passed one of these residences, the proprietor--an
old gentleman--and the women turned out _en masse_ to view the
procession. No doubt we did present a rather sorry plight; at any
rate, these high-bred F. F. V.’s laughed exultingly, and were loud
and profuse in their remarks, complimentary to Yankees in general
and us in particular. “Oh! well, you have got to Richmond now!”
screeched out one of them with all the impotent ire she could
muster. “Next time we are coming with guns,” was the reply. “Yes,
yes,” chimed in the old man, “we saw a lot of you fellows last
summer over there,” pointing with his cane in the direction of
McClellan’s achievements in the Chickahominy swamps. Thus a running
fire of words was kept up all along the line.

We could now see in the distance the spires of the rebel capital.
Just outside the city, lines of earthworks, with here and there a
frowning cannon, commanded the road. Our flattering reception thus
far in the villages along the route from Guinea’s Station led us to
expect even greater demonstrations from the Richmond populace. As
we entered the city, it seemed as if all Richmond had turned out
to view the Yankee parade. The streets in the suburbs were full of
people--men, women, and children, whites, negroes, mulattoes--all
in one confused crowd, and swayed for the most part with clamorous
exultation; while “her beauty and her chivalry,” arm in arm,
gloated over the scene with a kind of fiendish delight. One old
woman, raising her arms in blank astonishment, screamed out: “Why,
all Hooker’s army is coming!” We thought to ourselves, she is about
right; Hooker’s army will be here one of these days, and with guns
too. “What have you come down here for?” demanded one, whose very
countenance flashed vengeance. “Oh! we are only Hooker’s advance
guard, come down to act as pall-bearers at Stonewall Jackson’s
funeral,” some one quietly replied. In his rage he answered: “If
you were not a prisoner, I’d shoot you down.” “You’ve got to
Richmond in a way you didn’t expect.” “See these Yanks; there’s
hardly an honest face among ’em all.” “What a hang-dog look!”
These, and many other expressions, of all degrees of refinement,
were launched at us. It really seemed as if the chivalry had
studied for this very occasion some vocabulary of Billingsgate, and
practiced it beforehand, so as to get it off in the most approved
style of grimace and tone. Although Richmond was the Sodom and
Gomorrah of treason, and the concentrated essence of rebel villainy
and venom, we were not left entirely to this dark view of the
picture. While we stood in the street, just before entering Jeff.’s
hotel, a German woman, in the kindness and, I believe, loyalty
of her heart, came hurriedly out from a neighboring house with a
large loaf of cake, and divided it up among the eager men. She then
went back, but soon returned, laden with a lot of bread, which
she distributed in like manner. Several other instances of similar
character occurred, like flashes of golden sunlight in a dark and
lowering sky.

Wearied by the day’s march and its exciting scenes, and exhausted
through want of food, most of the men were now ushered into a
tobacco factory belonging to Crew and Pemberton, and situated on
Carey street, opposite the infamous Libby prison, of which it is a
counterpart. More than a thousand men were stowed away in Crew and
Pemberton’s factory, an average of nearly three hundred in each
story. Two hundred and eighty-nine, including the larger part of
the Twenty-seventh, occupied the upper loft, and when all reclined
upon the floor almost every square foot was covered. Many were so
thoroughly exhausted as to be unable to drag themselves up-stairs
without assistance from their comrades. Also, Belle Island welcomed
a small number to its sands and wild onions. Forty or fifty of the
men were assigned to Libby prison, where were already quartered the
commissioned officers of the Twenty-seventh. The latter had arrived
in Richmond a day or two previous, after a journey in crowded cars
from Guinea’s Station. The people residing in the vicinity of the
route seemed in a perfect ferment of vindictive excitement, and
gathered here and there in boisterous groups to gaze at the unusual
pageant. The Virginia women were especially spiteful, in word and
demeanor. Some of them, perched in conspicuous places, waved little
Confederate flags, as if to attract the more attention, and shouted
out, “That’s what’s the matter!” “Come on, you cursed rascals!”
“Have you got Old Abe with you?” “Ain’t you a sweet-looking party?”
The usual miscellaneous assemblage greeted them as they alighted
in Broad street, and seemed very eager to remind them of their
advent in the rebel capital. “Well, you’ve got here, have you?”
“How do you like the place?” “You’re a sweet-looking crowd of
thieves, aren’t you?” Thus they were escorted to Libby, and handed
over to the tender mercies of Captain Turner and his assistants,
who searched the prisoners, and appropriated all contraband
articles.

The day following the arrival of the main body of the regiment
was the Sabbath, just one week since we fell into rebel hands.
During this week all the rations each man received from the rebel
authorities amounted to three pints of flour, five medium-sized
crackers, and an ounce or two of bacon. All day Sunday the men were
clamorous for something to eat. The guards about the prison were
under strict orders to prevent the people from selling any thing to
the prisoners, but, notwithstanding this, some articles did pass
the blockade. At evening, the rebels distributed to every four men
what purported to be a four-pound loaf of bread, and a pound of
pork. Less than three pounds of bread would be nearer the truth,
making about ten or twelve ounces for each man, and this with three
ounces of pork formed the daily ration for one person. As far as
it went, it was very good. Every morning the prison director, with
the rank of major, and his clerk, a renegade New-Yorker--precious
scoundrels both of them--came into the prison to count us over, and
see if we were all there.

Thus affairs continued for several days--the same dull routine of
prison life, varied by nothing except the contraband reading of
Richmond papers, with accounts of Stonewall Jackson’s funeral,
at which there was great joy in Libby. At length, on Wednesday
morning, came the glad announcement that the United States
transports were at City Point, awaiting our arrival. The rebel
officers administered to us the following paroling oath: “We, the
undersigned, do solemnly swear and pledge our sacred word, that we
will not, during the existing hostilities between the United States
and the Confederate States of America, aid or abet the enemies of
said Confederate States, by arms or otherwise, until regularly and
legally exchanged, or otherwise released. So help me God. And we
do acknowledge our names appended to the same, as though signed
by ourselves.” At half-past three in the afternoon, with gladness
indescribable, we left those prison walls, to enter upon the march
to City Point, a place about thirty-five miles from Richmond.
Crossing the James river into Manchester, we took the turnpike road
to Petersburg, under the escort chiefly of cavalry. The rebels
hurried us forward for miles almost at double-quick, without any
halt. As Major Turner rode by, the men called to him for a rest. He
shouted out, “There is no rest for the wicked!” and passed on.

It was the purpose of our escort to continue the march all night,
but a thunder-storm of surpassing violence seriously interfered.
A darkness, so intense that we could not see a foot before us,
enveloped the road. Slowly, through mud, and rain, and darkness,
we straggled along, until near midnight. It was impossible to go
further. Scattered along the roadside for miles were hundreds too
much exhausted to keep up with the column, and finally we all
dragged ourselves into the marshy woods, and, lulled to sleep by
the babbling brooks flowing around us in every direction, forgot
awhile the fatigue of the march. At an early hour the next day
the weary column again moves on, each man sustaining his waning
strength by frequent halts. Petersburg is passed, and ten miles
more of mud. At length the waters of the James river glimmer in
the distance; the old flag, floating proudly at the masthead of
the Union transports, beckons onward. The men attempt to cheer,
but it dies on their lips; nature is too much exhausted to utter
the feelings which swell all hearts. With renewed energy we press
forward, and soon enter the deserted village of City Point, whose
shattered roofs tell of a former bombardment. That march from
Richmond to City Point stands almost unexampled in the whole
experience of the Twenty-seventh. Many were ready to drop on the
ground from utter inability to go further. Behind them frowned the
grim, historic walls of Libby; dreary months of incarceration moved
by in slow procession, crowded full with the records of cruelty,
and starvation, and disease; while forward to freedom and humanity,
forward to generous care and protection, written on every fold of
the old flag, fired them with new determination to toil on. Once
more they stand on a Union deck, resolved to strike a heavier blow
for their country when again they advance to meet her barbarous
foes. As soon as the men were aboard the transports, a supply of
food was distributed to meet their pressing wants. The steamers
quietly dropped down the beautiful James river, bordered with high
banks, rich in the fresh verdure of spring, with here and there a
handsome villa peering above the trees. We anchored for the night
at Harrison’s Landing, an important point in the history of the
Peninsular campaign. The next forenoon our transports steamed into
Hampton Roads. Hampton, once the summer resort of the Virginia
chivalry, Newport News, the distant spires of Norfolk, the topmast
of the Cumberland still pointing skyward, the little monitors, and
the Rip-Raps, and that grand old sentinel, Fortress Monroe, all
crowd on the view as we round to at Old Point Comfort. A brief
stop, and we are off again for Annapolis, where we arrive on the
morning of May sixteenth, and are quartered in barracks in the rear
of the town. After three days of rest, we start for Alexandria, by
way of Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac, and on May twenty-first are
introduced within the narrow precincts of Convalescent Camp.

The majority of the officers were detained in Richmond several days
after the departure of the privates. Meanwhile, the rebels had been
threatening retaliation for General Burnside’s execution of two
spies, in Kentucky; and the officials in charge of Libby took great
delight in telling our officers that they were to have tickets
in the lottery, which would determine the victims of the _lex
talionis_. A few days later, they were relieved of their suspense
by the announcement that the lot had fallen upon two officers
from Tennessee. This affair having been arranged satisfactorily
to the rebel authorities, the officers of the Twenty-seventh
received their parole early Saturday morning, May twenty-third,
and started in freight cars for City Point, and from that place
were transported, _via_ Fortress Monroe, to Annapolis, where they
arrived on the morning of the twenty-fifth.

Leaving the paroled prisoners of the Twenty-seventh to endure as
best they can the idleness and discontent of Convalescent Camp, let
us return in thought to the wilds of Chancellorsville, and from
those scenes of the third of May follow the little band which still
remains at the front, to bear our flag to victory on the heights
of Gettysburg. Eight companies were captured on that memorable May
morning; but D and F, having been detached for duty elsewhere,
escaped this unexpected misfortune, and fell back with the main
army, when General Hooker retired to his new line of battle.
Meanwhile, the duties of these remnants of the regiment were
somewhat disconnected. During Saturday night following the disaster
of the Eleventh Corps, Company A had been out on picket duty, and
were relieved by Company D, at an early hour the next morning, in
time to accompany the main body of the regiment to the place where
they were captured. Company F had been previously detached to
fill up a gap in the line between the Fifty-third and One Hundred
and Forty-fifth Pennsylvania, and were soon after ordered up to
the Chancellor House to support the famous Pettit’s battery. Here
they remained until Sunday afternoon, under a severe fire. Twice
the rebels charged up in solid masses, but were repulsed before
Pettit’s rapid and irresistible volleys. In the evening of that
day Company F went out on picket, and continued in this duty until
the following Monday night. It was on this part of the line that
Stonewall Jackson received his mortal wound.

It will be remembered that when the regiment went down to the
picket-line that Sabbath morning, the colors remained behind
by order of General Brooke. Although the rifle-pits were now
entirely deserted, the color-guard, having no orders to leave,
maintained their position until ten A.M., much of the time under
a severe shelling. At that hour they were ordered to the rear,
and soon after joined Company D, which was the last to leave the
old picket-line of the army, as stated by the staff officer who
brought to them the orders to fall back. The various remnants of
the Twenty-seventh were not reünited until a late hour on Monday.

The conflict of Sabbath morning, May third, terminated at eleven
o’clock, and, with the exception of a feeble demonstration by
Jackson’s forces in the afternoon, the remainder of the day
passed in comparative quiet. Meanwhile, Hooker had contracted his
lines, and the army was now massed within a nearly equilateral
triangle, its base resting upon the Rappahannock. The Eleventh
and Twelfth Corps occupied the side facing Fredericksburg. On the
side looking toward the Rapidan were the First, Third, and Fifth,
while our Second corps was formed in four compact lines at the
angle, which was open ground about a two-story white house, on the
Ely’s Ford road, near the junction with that leading to United
States Ford. This was a strong position, favorable for artillery,
and justly regarded as the most important in the whole line. The
Twenty-seventh held a position to the left of the white house,
where General Hooker now had his headquarters. Such continued to be
the situation of the army during the succeeding two days. The enemy
seemed disinclined to venture a general attack, but occasionally
shelled our intrenchments, as if to reassure themselves that
Hooker was still there. Affairs could not remain long in this
doubtful state. The golden opportunity to crush the rebels, when
the thunder of Sedgwick’s cannon, advancing from Fredericksburg,
filled the breezes with the murmuring notes of success, had passed,
and now every hour of delay added to the swelling torrent of the
Rappahannock, threatening to sweep away the feeble threads which
connected the army with its supplies.

Monday evening, May fourth, General Hooker held a council of war,
which decided that it was best to withdraw the army the following
night. Accordingly, eight o’clock, Tuesday evening, was the hour
fixed upon; but the troops did not begin to move until after
midnight, in consequence of a heavy storm, which carried away some
of the bridges. The Twenty-seventh remained under arms all night,
in the rain, with orders to be ready to start at any moment. At
length, at four in the morning of May sixth, the regiment fell back
with the rest of the brigade, re-crossed at United States Ford,
and, after a march of twelve hours, arrived at the old camp, near
Falmouth. The Sixty-fourth New-York were found quietly ensconced in
the few huts which the scavengers of Falmouth had left standing,
and demurred somewhat at leaving their grateful shelter, but
finally recognized the prior claim of the Twenty-seventh. After a
few days, the regiment changed its camp to a more healthy location
two miles further back from the river. The losses of Hooker’s
campaign had reduced our numbers from nearly four hundred men to
one hundred and sixty, embracing D and F, and small squads of other
companies, the whole under command of the senior officer, Captain
Joseph R. Bradley, of Company F. Dress parades took place as usual,
and duty at the old picket-line on the Rappahannock was resumed,
bearing very heavily upon our diminished ranks. Occasionally
the rebel pickets shouted across the river to know where the
Twenty-seventh Connecticut had gone, and in the same breath gave
the answer, “To picket around Richmond.” On the thirteenth of May,
several of our wounded men came over from Fredericksburg, having
been nine days in the rebel hospitals.

After the battle of Chancellorsville, General D. N. Couch,
the corps commander, was relieved at his own request, and our
division general, W. S. Hancock, justly characterized as the
very impersonation of war, succeeded to the command. As soon as
possible, after the return of our commissioned officers from
Richmond, a part were exchanged, and at the earliest moment Colonel
Bostwick returned to the front, followed by Lieutenant-Colonel
Merwin, Major Coburn, and Lieutenants Frank Chapman, Burdict, Rice,
Muhlner, and Cross, who rejoined the regiment on the eleventh
of June. Colonel Bostwick, being prevented from remaining with
his men, in consequence of a severe and protracted sickness,
the Lieutenant-Colonel took command of the battalion, which now
consisted of three companies, an additional one having been formed
from the remnants of the captured companies, and placed under
command of Captain Jedediah Chapman.




CHAPTER VII.

GETTYSBURG.


The result of the battle of Chancellorsville determined General Lee
to carry out his cherished plan of invading the North. Hooker’s
position in front of Fredericksburg being unfavorable for attack,
the rebel chief early in June began a series of movements with
the view of drawing him away from the river. Leaving Hill’s
corps in the works at Fredericksburg, to keep up appearances, he
concentrated Ewell’s, Longstreet’s, and Hood’s forces at Culpepper
Court-House, near the upper waters of the Rappahannock, and about
the middle of June pushed forward rapidly into the Shenandoah
Valley, and either captured or defeated the feeble Union force
opposing his march. Meanwhile, Hooker’s watchful eye was upon him,
and the Sixth Corps crossed the river just below Fredericksburg
to determine the strength and intentions of the rebels. A few
days later, several army corps broke camp, and started off in
the direction of Warrenton, for the purpose of watching the
movements of the enemy, and covering the approaches to Washington;
while on the ninth the cavalry inflicted a severe blow upon Jeb.
Stuart’s troopers, who were gathering in strong force at Kelly’s
Ford, twenty-five miles above Falmouth, intending to sweep with
destruction the fertile fields of Pennsylvania.

The Second Corps was the last to leave the line of the
Rappahannock. On the eighth of June, the Twenty-seventh Connecticut
received orders to be ready to march at any time, with three days’
rations, and continued in this waiting posture until the fourteenth
instant, when the final orders came, and at three P.M. the
regiment, with the rest of the brigade acting as rear-guard to the
corps, moved up the river to Banks’s Ford, relieved our pickets,
reconnoitered the enemy, and retired toward Stafford Court-House.
This little hamlet was left behind in flames. For several days
the corps followed the roads near the Potomac, passing through
Dumfries, Occoquan, and Fairfax Station, halting here two days, and
arriving at Centreville on the nineteenth. The route now turned
still farther to the left, crossing the old Bull Run battle-field,
which had witnessed the decision of two campaigns. Time had not
effaced the evidences of those disastrous days. Silently the troops
moved over the field, and the thoughts of many a one among the
older regiments, and of some in our own, hurried back to those
scenes with impressive distinctness, as the bleached bones of the
fallen, or the rubbish of battle, lay scattered along the roadside.
After a severe march of twenty miles in the rain, the regiment
arrived, at ten in the evening of June twentieth, at Thoroughfare
Gap, a wild gorge in the Blue Ridge. The intensely exhausting march
from Falmouth made the four days of comparative rest at the Gap
exceedingly welcome. Here the troops were occupied in picketing the
pass, in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the mountains.
Meanwhile, to the north, Stuart and Pleasanton were once more on
the charge at Aldie, Upperville, and Middleburg, and their muffled
cannonade echoed among these hills and pleasant valleys, surely
not unused to the sound, repeating itself again and again, as if
from as many different directions.

June twenty-fifth, the regiment fell in at an early hour, ready to
fight or march, as circumstances might require, for the rebels were
approaching with malicious intent to capture the corps’ beef cattle
and supply train, and sharp picket firing indicated the possible
necessity of adopting the former alternative. But after remaining
in line of battle, with no serious demonstration on the part of the
enemy, the corps advanced through Haymarket, toward the Potomac.
The rebel cavalry followed vigorously, and attempted to come in on
our flanks, but skirmishers were thrown out, and the troops marched
in hollow squares, prepared to repel any attack. At Haymarket, the
batteries turned on the enemy, and drove them back. The column
pushed forward to Gum Springs, and without pitching tents rested
that night on their arms, drawn up in a hollow square, ready at a
moment’s warning to meet any assault of rebel cavalry. At midnight
of June twenty-sixth, the regiment crossed the Potomac at Edward’s
Ferry. The next three days passed in continuous marching up the
valley of the Monocacy river, through many quiet Maryland villages,
among them Poolesville, Frederick City, Liberty, Johnsville,
and Uniontown. Each day’s march was very protracted--that from
Frederick City to Uniontown embracing a distance of thirty-six
miles, and the manner in which it was performed elicited high
compliments from Colonel Brooke, commanding the brigade.

Thus far the army had been manœuvred so as to cover Washington
and Baltimore, and now, as the rebel plans became more apparent,
General Meade, who had recently superseded General Hooker,
directed a concentration of his forces in the vicinity of
Gettysburg. The First Corps held the advance, followed by the
Eleventh, and on Wednesday morning, July first, drove the enemy’s
skirmishers through the town. General Reynolds, in command of the
corps, without hesitation moved forward to the attack, and met
death while bravely posting his troops on the heights beyond. The
rebels fell back slowly, in order to give time for Ewell’s men to
come to their aid, and this being accomplished, they were more than
a match for the combined First and Eleventh, with whose now united
columns rested the decision of the day. At three in the afternoon,
the enemy, thus reënforced, took the offensive, and compelled
General Howard, now in command, to withdraw his troops to the south
of the town, and the close of the day left him securely intrenched
on Cemetery Hill.

While these scenes were taking place around Gettysburg, the
Twenty-seventh Connecticut, with its corps, leisurely moved up
to Taneytown, just below the Pennsylvania State line. Here the
troops rested a few hours, unconscious that the first of a trio of
glorious battle days was already in progress. But soon the ominous
notes of Howard’s and Ewell’s cannon strike on the ear, and add new
emphasis to the call from the front for reënforcements. Preceded
by General Hancock, the corps advanced rapidly to within three
miles of Gettysburg, and were occupied until midnight in throwing
up intrenchments. At early dawn, July second, the brigades moved
forward to take the places assigned them in the line of battle.
Already the fitful fire of opposing pickets and skirmishers can be
heard in the distance, with the occasional boom of heavy ordnance.
The shock of battle, which is to determine the fate of the rebel
invasion, will at the farthest be postponed but a few hours. Just
before coming into position, and while the troops were resting
under arms, the commander of our brigade assembled the officers,
and briefly reminded them of the desperate character of the
emergency, and urged the importance and necessity of devoting every
energy to insure the successful issue of the conflict.

In order to understand the various positions of the Twenty-seventh
during the action, let us briefly sketch the line of battle, as
adopted by General Hancock, and along which the several corps were
arranged, as they arrived on the field. Three important roads,
the Emmettsburg, Taneytown, and Baltimore turnpike, converge in
Gettysburg from the south. At their junction, just below the town,
is the natural key of the position, the now historic Cemetery Hill.
This elevation forms the northern end of a ridge prolonged about
four miles, almost exactly due south, near to and parallel with the
Taneytown road, gradually diminishing in altitude until it almost
loses itself in the surrounding level, then rises again into the
forest-crowned Little Round Top, or Weed’s Hill, and terminates in
the yet higher ascent of Rocky Round Top itself. Beginning on the
left at Round Top, the Union line extends northward in nearly a
straight course along Cemetery Ridge, and at Cemetery Hill bends
back to the east in the general form of a half circle, with a
radius of three fourths of a mile--Culp’s Hill, and several minor
eminences, lying in the circumference; and the extreme right,
crossing Rock Creek, which flows at the base of these heights,
rests upon the woody summit of Wolf’s Hill. The rebel forces
occupied a series of heights corresponding to these, with an
intervening belt of comparatively level and open country from one
to two miles in width.

The forenoon of Thursday, July second, passed with no demonstration
on either side. The hostile forces are rapidly marshalling on the
opposite ridges. In the Union line the Twelfth Corps holds the
eminences near Rock Creek, on the right; next is the First, on
Culp’s Hill; then the Eleventh, at the centre, on Cemetery Hill,
while along Cemetery Ridge are successively drawn up the Second,
Third, and Fifth, with the Sixth in reserve near the Taneytown
road. The Twenty-seventh Connecticut was stationed about a mile and
a half south of Cemetery Hill, in the line occupied by our Second
Corps on the left centre. Here the regiment remained nearly all
day in quiet preparation for the conflict, which threatened at any
moment to mar that peaceful landscape of thrifty farm-houses and
waving grain.

Early in the afternoon, the Third Corps, on the left of the Second,
advanced down the western slope of Cemetery Ridge, through woods
and an extensive wheat-field, almost to the Emmettsburg road,
which winds through the narrow valley, separating the hostile
forces. Just beyond, Longstreet is forming his brigades, and at
four o’clock, preceded by a brief cannonade, their gray ranks sweep
out from woods and ravines, and once more is heard that strange,
wild yell, as they throw themselves forward upon the thin line of
the Third Corps. But before the storm of grape and canister from
Cemetery Ridge they quickly fall back to organize anew their broken
columns. Meanwhile reënforcements from the Fifth and Second Corps
moved rapidly to the scene of action. Once more in still heavier
masses the enemy advanced to the charge. The Twenty-seventh, with
the rest of the First Division, was hurried forward through fields
and by-roads, to support the faltering line. As the regiment
enters the wheat-field, already referred to, the broken remains
of the Third Corps are slowly retiring to the rear. A few steps
more bring the men under the full sweep of the enemy’s fire.
Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin falls while leading the command with his
accustomed bravery. Under Major Coburn, the line still presses
forward at double-quick, through the wheat-field and woods beyond,
driving the rebels a quarter of a mile, across a ravine, which
on the further side rises into a precipitous ledge. The men with
much difficulty clambered up the rocky steep, but as they appeared
upon the crest of the hill, the enemy, drawn up in readiness just
beyond, within pistol-range, opened upon them a withering fire. The
contest at this point continued for some time. Planting the colors
upon the top, the men loaded their pieces under shelter of the brow
of the hill, then, rising up, delivered their fire. Meanwhile the
troops to our right gave way, and, taking advantage of the exposed
position of the right flank of our brigade, the enemy advanced a
body of troops in that direction, and General Brooke at length
ordered our shattered line to fall back, which was accomplished
under a heavy cross-fire.

Thus with varying success the battle raged from four P.M. until
dark. Now the feeble line of the Third Corps trembles before the
fierce onset of the foe, and retires, contesting the ground inch by
inch; but the irresistible onslaught of reënforcements soon turns
the tide. Again the rebels push back the Union troops almost to
the original lines on Cemetery Ridge, and again are themselves
repulsed before the concentrated fire of our artillery, aiding the
charge of a brigade of infantry.

The conflict on the left wing terminated at dark, leaving the enemy
in possession of the wheat-field. No attack had yet been made
upon other parts of the line, but, as the day closed, a division,
deploying from the edge of the town, made a brief and desperate,
but fruitless, assault upon the batteries posted on Cemetery
Hill. And still further to the right, the enemy, observing that
the larger part of the forces on Culp’s Hill had been drawn off
to meet pressing emergencies elsewhere, crossed Rock Creek, and,
charging up the woody slope, secured a lodgement for the night in
the unoccupied portion of the works. Such was the general result of
the day’s fighting.

The Twenty-seventh went into action with seventy-five men, all
that could be mustered for duty after an active service of not
quite nine months. At the camps of paroled prisoners, the Richmond
voyagers of our regiment, though not permitted to rejoin the
command, yet in thought followed their comrades through all the
vicissitudes of march and battle which attended them. At five P.M.
that little band of seventy-five men formed for the charge at
the edge of the wheat-field. At dark thirty-eight were numbered
among the casualties: eleven killed--among them Lieutenant-Colonel
Merwin, and Captain Jedediah Chapman--twenty-three wounded, and
four missing. One of the latter, when Lee’s army retreated, was
marched by his captors from Gettysburg to Staunton, Virginia, one
hundred and eighty miles, and thence transported by railroad to
Richmond. After a six weeks’ experience on Belle Island, he was
paroled, and returned home so emaciated and worn down by hardship
as to be almost beyond recognition even by members of his own
company.

At the close of the action in front of the left wing, the
Twenty-seventh was assigned a new position in the line of battle,
about midway on the ridge between Cemetery Hill and Round Top. The
regiment remained in this vicinity until the Second Corps started
in pursuit of Lee’s army, three days later. Early the next morning,
July third, the men were roused from sleep by a furious cannonade
from batteries posted on Power’s Hill, about half a mile to the
rear. These dogs of war were paying their morning compliments to
the rebels, who still occupied the works on the extreme right,
which they had captured the previous evening. For an hour this
thunder-toned reveille awoke the resting armies to the still
fiercer drama of the last battle day. The infantry followed up this
fiery prelude with a vigorous attack upon the rebel vantage-ground,
the importance of which seemed fully appreciated by both sides. The
struggle continued with unabated resolution until nine o’clock,
when the Union forces succeeded in dispossessing the enemy of this
to them valuable _point d’appui_ for future operations.

With the exception of a severe artillery fire, to which General
Meade’s headquarters were subjected, the enemy attempted nothing
further during the remainder of the forenoon. The Twenty-seventh
was busily engaged in throwing up intrenchments, gathering for
this purpose rails and stones from neighboring fences, and, in
the absence of picks and shovels, using their bayonets and tin
plates to heap up the earth. In his morning rounds, General Hancock
visited the brigade, and as he stood near by, conversing with Major
Coburn, our acting Brigadier, Colonel Brooke, called the General’s
attention to the little remnant of the Twenty-seventh, alluding,
in strong terms of commendation, to the conduct of the regiment in
the action of the preceding afternoon. Turning to the men, General
Hancock said: “Stand well to your duty now, and in a few days you
will carry with you to your homes all the honors of this, the
greatest battle ever fought upon the continent.”

From eleven o’clock until one, only stifled mutterings of the
impatient storm disturbed the quiet which reigned along the lines.
The rebels were silently maturing their plans for the last grand
charge, upon which they staked the fate of the invasion. Those were
hours of indescribable suspense to the defenders of the Union,
whether or no the sun would set upon a foe elated with victory and
pressing onward to new conquests, or sullenly retiring in defeat.
At one o’clock the combat began. From every commanding eminence
in their concave line, the rebel artillery, numbering more than a
hundred guns, opened a terrific cannonade, probably unsurpassed
in violence during the whole war. For more than an hour this wild
storm of shot and shell rolls over the Union line, from Round
Top to Rock Creek. The infantry are partially sheltered behind
intrenchments, while the cannoneers stand at their posts, replying
occasionally to the bombardment, but reserving their fire for more
decisive work, when the rebel forces advance to the assault. At
length the cannonade slackens, to give way to the next act in the
drama, the crisis of the tragedy. In full view two heavy lines of
troops, the flower of the rebel army, with skirmishers in front,
deploy from the woods and ridges beyond the Emmettsburg road.
With the steadiness of hardened veterans they move forward to the
attack. From Cemetery Ridge thousands of Union troops are watching
their progress, for the assault is directed upon the left centre.
On arriving at the road, the enemy opened a heavy musketry fire,
and dashed rapidly forward across the level plain. The very moment
they emerged from behind Seminary Heights, the Union artillery met
them with shot and shell and solid shot, but now, as they approach
within easy range, their ranks are mercilessly raked with a tempest
of canister. Cemetery Hill is wreathed with flame from the guns
of thickly-massed infantry, and the fringe of fire courses along
the crest of the ridge for two miles, as far as the rebel attack
extends. Though temporarily checked, one division still marches on
with desperate energy up to the very works. Only a weak line bars
their progress, but reinforcements quickly arrive at the critical
point, around which the contending hosts now struggle, in one of
the most hotly-contested encounters of the battle. For a time the
rebels bravely maintain their position, but clouds of missiles
from Cemetery Hill tear into their ranks, while infantry crowd
them vigorously in front and flank. At length, leaving the ground
thickly strewn with killed and wounded, and multitudes as prisoners
in the hands of the conquerors, the broken remnants roll back in
wild confusion, and disappear behind the hills from which they had
sallied forth.

This last charge of the rebels took place just to the right of the
position held by the Twenty-seventh, which we have already referred
to as being half-way between Round Top and Cemetery Hill. From the
relation of the ground to the surrounding high land, the location
of our brigade was regarded as one of the weakest in the line, and
General Hancock expressed the opinion that here the enemy would
make his attack. Fortunately it proved otherwise, although for a
time such a movement seemed imminent. Near the close of the action,
a division, massed in column, advanced directly upon our front,
but the reserve artillery quickly drove them back before they came
within musketry range. The favorable termination of what was felt
to be the last assault the rebels would make, produced a profound
feeling of satisfaction. But one of the saddest of duties remained
to be performed--to bury the dead and gather the wounded into the
hospitals. This work occupied the men during July fourth. On that
day, Lee’s army withdrew from this scene of inglorious defeat, and
retired in a southwesterly direction.

In the afternoon of July fifth, the war-worn Twenty-seventh, with
the Second Corps, left those battle-scarred heights, the theatre
of a costly but substantial triumph, which marks the turning-point
in the fortunes of the rebellion. For the next few days the march
was directed toward the Potomac, following at first the Taneytown
road. But slow progress was made, in consequence of frequent rains
and the thoroughly exhausted condition of the troops. The state of
popular feeling along the route was in striking contrast with the
dejected aspect of every countenance when the army was on its way
to Gettysburg. Now, Frederick City put on its most smiling face.
Flags were flung to the breeze, and the people gave an enthusiastic
welcome to the regiments as they passed through in pursuit of
Lee’s army. The route now crossed the Blue Ridge, by way of
Crampton’s Gap. Here the severe rains had gathered a considerable
torrent, several feet deep, which formed the pathway of the troops
for nearly two miles. The Twenty-seventh was once more in the
vicinity of the enemy, who had retreated down the western slope of
the mountains, and were now in position at Williamsport, on the
Potomac, preparing to cross into Virginia. The sound of cannon in
that direction informed us that they were but a short distance to
the front; and while on the field of Antietam, the brigade formed
in line of battle, as a precautionary measure. The next day the
rebel cavalry attacked the skirmish line, but quickly fell back
before a severe shelling. In anticipation of further fighting, the
men spent two nights and one day in building an elaborate line
of intrenchments; but it proved to be labor lost, as the rebels
retired, on the night of the fourteenth, to the south bank of the
river. Immediately on ascertaining this fact, the Twenty-seventh,
with the brigade, was ordered down to Falling Waters, a short
distance below Williamsport, and arrived there just in time to
witness the capture of the enemy’s rear-guard, more than a thousand
strong.

The invasion was now at an end; and as the last rebel left the soil
of Maryland, the campaign of the Twenty-seventh drew near to its
close. Leaving Falling Waters, the regiment accompanied the Second
Corps down the Potomac to Harper’s Ferry, and went into camp at
Pleasant Valley, about two miles distant. On the morning of July
eighteenth the Twenty-seventh ceased its connection with the Army
of the Potomac. In announcing this event, Colonel Brooke, our
brigade commander, issued the following general order:

  “HEADQUARTERS FOURTH BRIGADE, FIRST DIVISION,     }
           SECOND CORPS, CAMP IN PLEASANT VALLEY,   }
               MARYLAND, July 17, 1863.             }

  “GENERAL ORDER--NO. 9.

  “The term of service of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut Volunteers
  having nearly expired, it has been relieved from further duty,
  and ordered to report to its place of enrolment.

  “The Colonel commanding the brigade desires, in parting with the
  officers and men of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, to convey to
  them his sincere feelings of regret at losing their services,
  while at the same time he thanks them for the obedience and
  faithfulness which have been a marked feature of the regiment.

  “Knowing it intimately for so many months of active and arduous
  service--having been an eye-witness of its many deeds of
  gallantry, and of the noble devotion displayed by it on many a
  memorable day, during the time in which he has had the honor to
  command its services--he feels it a duty he owes, not only to the
  living heroes, but to the memory of those who have fallen in the
  field in battling in our righteous cause, to bear testimony to
  the valor and gallantry it has always displayed.

  “Side by side with the veterans of the Army of the Potomac it has
  fought, and by the gallantry of its conduct won for itself an
  enviable name and reputation, and which may well, in after years,
  cause all who belong to it to feel a pardonable pride in having
  it to say that they served with the Twenty-seventh Connecticut.

  “By order.       COLONEL BROOKE.
  “CHARLES P. HATCH, Lieutenant,
  “Acting Assistant Adjutant-General.”

With glad hearts the men formed in line at an early hour and took
the cars for Baltimore, after a parting salute to the brigade,
as it marched by on its way into Virginia. On the twentieth, the
detachments of paroled men from Annapolis and Camp Convalescent
arrived at Baltimore, and the whole regiment, now mustering about
half the original number, started by railroad for New-Haven. Once
more we were entertained at the “Volunteer Refreshment Saloon,”
in Philadelphia, and, after a night’s bivouack at the Battery, in
New-York, arrived at the “place of enrolment” on the twenty-second
of July, 1863, exactly nine months from the date of departure for
the field. We shall not attempt to describe the hearty enthusiasm
and deep feeling of the reception which followed. That “glorious
welcome home” will long be remembered by the soldiers of the
Twenty-seventh. Escorted by the military companies of the city
and the municipal authorities, the regiment marched from the cars
to the north portico of the State House, while “Welcome!” pealed
from the ringing bells, thundered in the roar of cannon, waved
from every flag-staff, and shone on every countenance of the vast
multitude, gathered from all parts of the county, and thronging the
streets and public square. At the State House, after the regiment
had been drawn up “in column by division,” the Mayor presented the
formal welcome of the city, and was succeeded by Rev. Dr. Bacon
in a brief address, closing with a prayer of thanksgiving. The
following poem, written by Mrs. William Doty, of New-Haven, and
accompanying a gift of laurel wreaths to the field-officers, was
then read:


A TRIBUTE OF WELCOME

TO THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CONNECTICUT VOLUNTEERS.

      We’ll fling to the breeze our banner bright,
      America’s emblem of freedom and right,
      And rallying round the standard true,
      Shout a joyous welcome, brave patriots, to you.

      Ye went forth from us, a loyal band,
      Firm on the side of right to stand;
      Ye return with hearts still brave and true;
      Then our warmest greeting we give to you.

      Ye return, but our tears will fall as ye come,
      For the mournful notes of the muffled drum
      Are borne on the breeze over mountain and wave,
      As it beats the dirge by your comrades’ grave.

      With the order, “Forward!” ye marched proudly on,
      And your colors bright to the front were borne;
      When the smoke of the battle had cleared away,
      Side by side with the “veterans” your brave boys lay.

      Through the summer’s heat and winter’s cold
      At your post ye stood, fearless and bold;
      And when on the field, ’mid the conflict dire,
      Ye _did not_ “quail at the enemy’s fire.”

      Oh! the road to Richmond hath altars bright,
      Where, a “captive band,” ye camped at night,
      And “Libby’s” grim walls a record bears,
      Of the patriot’s song and the hero’s prayers.

      Now the toil is over, the march is done;
      And the wreath of laurel, ye’ve bravely won,
      We offer to you, and our welcome it breathes,
      For our prayers were twined with its glossy leaves.

      But ye’re not _all_ here, and we’ll look in vain
      For the smiles that will greet us never again;
      And the quivering lip and tearful eye
      Mutely ask you where our treasures lie.

      Some sleep where Virginia’s waters flow,
      Murmuring their requiem soft and low;
      Others with fairest flowers were drest,
      And close by the old homes laid to rest.

      When the angel of peace, with brooding wing,
      Shall fly o’er our land and its anthem sing,
      With trembling fingers the strings she’ll sweep,
      As she nears the spot where our loved ones sleep.

      Then a costly crown will our country wear,
      And bright the gems that shall sparkle there.
      She shall sit a queen, peerless and free,
      And the graves of her heroes her glory be!

      Still firmly stand, in God your trust,
      Till the rebel horde shall bite the dust,
      And the North and South encircled be
      With the bands of truth and liberty.

      Fight on, till our starry flag of blue,
      Each glistening fold to its purpose true,
      Shall wave from wild Atlantic’s roar
      To the golden strands of Pacific’s shore.

At the conclusion of these exercises a bountiful collation was
served up, after which the men separated, to await the completion
of the papers necessary to the final muster out of service, which
took place July twenty-seventh, 1863.

Thus terminated the eventful campaign of the Twenty-seventh
Connecticut Volunteers. During this brief term of nine months, the
regiment performed marches in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania,
amounting to no less than five hundred miles, and participated
in three of the great battles of the war--Fredericksburg,
Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg--losing in killed and wounded in
the first, about one third, and in the last, one half, of those
present in action. Very many of our number, on their return,
reënlisted in other organizations, and illustrated on new fields
the same valor which bore them and their comrades up the fiery
slope of Fredericksburg, nerved all hearts calmly to meet disaster
in the wilderness of Chancellorsville, and crowned with victory the
heights of Gettysburg.




_IN MEMORIAM._


The necrology of the Twenty-seventh, during the whole term of
service, includes seventy-five officers and men, and embraces much
that was noblest in the regiment. Of this number thirty-three fell
amid the strife and turmoil of battle; eighteen, after a more or
less lingering period of patient agony, finally succumbed to their
wounds; and twenty-four others slowly yielded to the inroads of
disease, and died among the more quiet scenes of the hospital. Were
it possible, we would gladly dwell upon each individual name, and
gather up those qualities by which each is remembered among his
comrades. But after all that might be said, the simple record of
the central fact in their history, that these men fell in defence
of the most righteous cause ever submitted to the decision of the
sword, is far more impressive than any commemorative words. And yet
there are some whose marked character and prominent connection with
the regiment as a whole, or with single companies, seem to demand
more than a passing notice. Chief among these, the mind and heart
of each member of the regiment will at once recur to the name of


LIEUT.-COL. HENRY C. MERWIN,

who fell in the battle of Gettysburg, July second, 1863. If this
noble spirit must leave its mortal tenement amid the wild tumult
of war, how appropriate that it should be when the black cloud of
disaster, which had so long hovered over the cause of our country,
was just rolling away, and already revealed its silver lining of
victory!

Colonel Merwin was a native of Brookfield, Connecticut, where he
was born September seventeenth, 1839. He spent the greater part
of his life in New-Haven, and at the beginning of the war was
in business with his father and brother. He early manifested a
fondness for military life, to which the subsequent events of his
history proved him well adapted. When the first gun of the war
sounded from the rebel batteries at Charleston, it awoke in his
breast a determined and prompt response. At that time he was a
member of the New-Haven Grays, and immediately volunteered with
that corps for three months’ service in the Second Regiment,
holding the position of sergeant. It will be remembered that that
was one of the very few regiments which returned with credit from
the field of Bull Run. After this brief campaign he remained at
home for a season, constrained by considerations of filial duty,
by which a noble nature like his is ever governed until yet higher
obligations demand attention. The armies of the Union were being
rapidly filled up, and at length the Government stopped recruiting,
while the nation beheld with confidence the vast and apparently
irresistible preparations, which betokened an easy victory. Under
these circumstances it was not strange that so many, like Colonel
Merwin, held back by peculiar home duties, refrained from throwing
themselves into the struggle. But these anticipations resulted in
disappointment, and all this array of resources proved a disastrous
failure. The call of the country was now heard in louder and
more imperative tones than ever before, and appealed to a far
wider circle in the community. Henry C. Merwin responded with a
calm, but earnest alacrity, as is ever true of those whose guide
is duty. His deserved and unsought popularity soon gathered to
his banner a full quota of men, which was designated as Company A
of the Twenty-seventh. Subsequently, at the organization of the
regiment, he was chosen Lieutenant-Colonel by the votes of his
fellow-officers. From this point his history is identified with
that of the regiment. From the moment of departure for the field
to the time of his death in that terrible combat of July second,
at Gettysburg, he had never been relieved from duty, except as
the casualties of war separated him from his command. He shared
the fortunes of the regiment during the terrible and fruitless
battle of Fredericksburg, and met with undaunted courage the
sudden shock of disaster in the thickets of Chancellorsville. He
visited Richmond as a prisoner of war, and on being exchanged at
once returned to the regiment, to the command of which he was now
called. Along the weary march to Gettysburg he inspired the men
with his own indomitable spirit, and on that fated wheat-field,
where the missiles of the enemy, as it were, mowed down the waving
grain, he fell, mortally wounded, breathing out those words of
noble self-forgetfulness, “My poor regiment is suffering fearfully.”

Without disparagement to any, it may truly be said that no officer
in the regiment attracted to himself such universal and unvarying
respect, confidence, and affection among the men of his command.
Nor was this strange in view of the remarkable and harmonious
combination of noble qualities in his character. No pride of
position ever marred the beautiful consistency of his life, and
yet there was a natural dignity which forbade undue familiarity.
He felt deeply the responsibility of his relation to the regiment,
and this o’ermastering principle swallowed up every consideration
of self-interest. Duty was evidently the supreme motive of his
life, and intent upon the performance of his own, he expected and
required equal faithfulness on the part of others. He was quick of
discernment, and rapid in execution, but no harshness ever dimmed
the transparent kindness of his demeanor. His genial countenance
and words of sympathy and encouragement often cheered the
loneliness of the hospital. He thoroughly appreciated the hardships
and trials peculiar to the private soldier, and at all times
endeavored to sustain and inspirit his weary energies. All these
more amiable qualities were supplemented by a manly independence
and decision, which made him always jealous for the rights of his
men. On that trying march to Gettysburg, no arrogance and severity
of superior officers ever deterred him from a gentlemanly, but bold
and firm, maintenance of the rights and interests of the regiment.
He at once secured the respect, and soon the high regard of Colonel
Brooke, commanding the brigade, who felt most keenly the loss of
Colonel Merwin, and, on hearing that he was wounded, gave orders
that every thing possible should be done for his welfare.

But none can do justice to such a character. In his death the
Twenty-seventh laid its costliest sacrifice upon the altar of our
country.

                  “He had kept
      The brightness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.”


[Illustration: ADDISON C. TAYLOR,

CAPTAIN OF COMPANY C.]

This gallant officer fell severely wounded in the engagement
at Fredericksburg, December thirteenth, 1862, and died at his
home in New-Haven, March thirteenth, 1863. He was born October
twenty-eighth, 1841, in Wellington, Lorraine county, Ohio. His
parents were natives of Connecticut, which State became his home
when he was about twelve years of age. For several years he was
a pupil in the Collegiate and Commercial Institute of New-Haven,
and subsequently a teacher, and also the military instructor in
that school. The outbreak of the rebellion in 1861 found him
performing the duties of this position. Though feeling that his
relations and duties to others did not permit him at that time
to enter the active military service of the country, yet he took
an earnest and enthusiastic part in the stirring scenes of that
period. Troops were to be raised and prepared for the field with
the utmost dispatch. How vividly memory recalls the experiences
of those days, then so strange in our national history, when men
were gathering from all quarters for the nation’s defence, and
our streets resounded with the drum and fife, and the public
square was alive with squads and companies moving to and fro
in the mazes of military evolutions! Captain Taylor’s zeal and
military knowledge found an ample sphere for exercise at this
important crisis, and truly most efficient service did he render.
It should be particularly mentioned, that he drilled the company
of Captain, now Brevet Major-General, Joseph R. Hawley, then
of the First Connecticut Regiment of three months’ volunteers.
Brevet Brigadier-General Edward W. Whittaker, the adventurous
cavalry leader, was also at that time a member of this company. So
successfully did Captain Taylor fulfil these duties that Captain
Hawley offered him the most flattering inducements if he would
consent to accompany the regiment; but the time had not arrived
when he was to give even life itself for his country. It came
when the battle summer of 1862 convinced the nation that this was
no ordinary struggle, and brought each man face to face with the
question of his own individual duty. At this juncture the call was
issued for volunteers for nine months’ service; and Captain Taylor,
with his accustomed ardor, immediately entered upon the work of
recruiting the “Monitors” for the Twenty-seventh Regiment, and
soon assembled about him a very superior body of men, to whom his
military knowledge and experience were of very great advantage.
His was the color company, and at its head he moved on that day of
fearful carnage, the memorable thirteenth of December, 1862, when
he received the wound which resulted in death, after three months
of patient suffering.

Did space allow, we might appropriately introduce at this point the
singularly unanimous testimony of those who knew him best, to the
self-reliance which he manifested from his earliest years; to the
thorough, unostentatious sincerity, purity, and conscientiousness
of his life; to the high sense of duty which impelled him to the
field, and animated him in every act; and, more than all this, to
the Christian principles which formed the basis of his symmetrical
character.

      “The light of his young life went down,
        As sinks behind the hill
      The glory of a setting star--
        Clear, suddenly, and still.
      The blessing of his quiet life
        Was in his every look.
      We read his face as one that reads
        A true and holy book.”


[Illustration: JEDEDIAH CHAPMAN, JR.,

CAPTAIN OF COMPANY H.]

Death singled out another shining mark when Captain Chapman fell
in the fore-front of battle, on the same afternoon that beheld the
close of Colonel Merwin’s life. Two congenial spirits in nobility
and worth together passed to the land of immortality on that day of
death’s high carnival.

Jedediah Chapman, Jr., was born in New-Haven, November
twenty-first, 1839. Like Colonel Merwin, he was a member of the
New-Haven Grays at the opening of the war, and accompanied them
to the field as a private in the three months’ service. When the
Twenty-seventh was being recruited under the call for nine months’
troops, he took hold of the work with vigor, and was in great
part instrumental in raising Company H, of which he was chosen
First Lieutenant. During more than one third of the campaign he
had command of the company, and to his exertions and military
experience its efficiency was largely due. Amid the terrors of
that disastrous day at Fredericksburg, no one acquitted himself
with greater bravery and coolness than Lieutenant Chapman. In
consequence of protracted sickness during the spring of 1863, he
did not participate in the battle of Chancellorsville, and thus
escaped the fate of the regiment. But it was a great disappointment
to him not to be with his men, and share with them the vicissitudes
of the campaign. By reason of the disaster to the Twenty-seventh
in that battle, only two companies of the regiment remained in the
field, with a few remnants of those which were captured. These
scattering portions were formed into one company, and Lieutenant
Chapman was placed in command. His peculiar qualifications of
discipline and character contributed much to their unity and
effectiveness during the succeeding campaign of Gettysburg; and
at their head he fell on the second of July, 1863. His commission
as Captain of Company H, dated May thirteenth, 1863, had been
already issued and forwarded; but he did not live to know of this
well-deserved honor.

Much that has already been said of Colonel Merwin might, with
equal propriety, be applied to Captain Chapman. He was an officer
well known, and highly esteemed, not only in his own company, but
throughout the regiment. He possessed in a peculiar degree all the
elements which constitute an efficient, and yet popular, commander.
In all his relations, he manifested a genial frankness of manner, a
conscientiousness of purpose, and keen sense of justice, which at
once gained universal confidence and regard. He was one of the most
unassuming of men, and yet in that soul burned a depth of devotion
to duty, and a power of noble action, which seemed to require the
stern, trying scenes of war to bring them forth in their original
strength and glory. So long as the campaign of the Twenty-seventh
lives in the memory of those who participated in it, so long will
the members of Company H cherish the name and reputation of their
beloved commander, Jedediah Chapman.

       *       *       *       *       *

Let us now turn to the long catalogue of enlisted men, whose names
appear in the necrology of the regiment. History can never do
justice to the grandeur and far-reaching importance of the cause to
which they gave the testimony of their lives, nor can it do justice
to the nobility and value of the sacrifice. It is not necessary
to repeat in this place the names of these worthy men; but we
will call to mind a few representatives of their number. There
was Orderly-Sergeant Richard H. Fowler, of Company A, who died of
wounds received at Fredericksburg. He was a native of Guilford, and
one of a family whose record for active patriotism and sublimity of
sacrifice has few, if any, parallels during the whole war. Corporal
William A. Goodwin and Private Augustus B. Fairchild likewise
fell at Fredericksburg. To the efficiency and worth of them all,
the officers of the company bear willing testimony. Companies C,
D, E, and F, also suffered severely in the loss of faithful and
tried soldiers. The battle of Fredericksburg struck from the roll
of Company H some of its most valued members. Among these were
Orderly-Sergeant Thomas E. Barrett, and Corporals George H. Mimmac
and Frank E. Ailing. Sergeant Barrett was a man of very superior
character and education. Previous to his enlistment he had been
a much-esteemed teacher at the Eaton Public School in New-Haven.
The pleasant duties and associations of this position, and all its
prospects of usefulness, he yielded up to enter the service of the
country. Few made greater sacrifices, or made them more cheerfully,
than he, in obedience to a purely unselfish sense of duty. He
sought and expected no office, and only at the earnest solicitation
of his comrades consented to accept the post of First Sergeant, and
certainly no company ever had a more faithful and conscientious
officer. He was a noble Christian soldier; a man whom society could
ill afford to lose. But he has left behind him an example which
should be carefully cherished and regarded. The sacrifice of such
a man is of no ordinary value, and gives unusual significance to
the struggle through which the nation has passed. Corporals Mimmac
and Ailing possessed very similar elements of character. The latter
was a member of Yale College at the time he enlisted, and left
the congenial pursuits of a student’s life to respond to what he
regarded the call of duty. Such were some of the men the ranks of
the Twenty-seventh contributed to that roll of honored names, whose
heroism and self-sacrifice will grow brighter and brighter, as the
progress of years reveals, in all their meaning and influence, the
events of the war for Liberty and Union.




RECORD OF CASUALTIES.


FIELD AND STAFF.


KILLED.

_At Gettysburg, July 2, 1863._

  Lieutenant-Colonel Henry C. Merwin.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862._

  Chaplain John W. Leek.

_At Gettysburg._

  Adjutant George F. Peterson.


COMPANY A.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Corporal William A. Goodwin, Jr.
  Private Augustus B. Fairchild.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  First Sergeant Richard H. Fowler.
  Sergeant Nelson S. Wilmot.
  Sergeant James B. Blair.
  Corporal William H. Cornwall.
  Private Thomas H. Wallace.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

  First Sergeant Richard H. Fowler, December 17th, 1862, at camp
      near Falmouth.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private Henry B. Hilliard, December 17th, 1862, at Hammond General
      Hospital, Maryland.
  Private Edward C. Hazard, October 16th, 1862, at Camp Terry,
      New-Haven.
  Private Frank A. Johnson, December 14th, 1862, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Treat A. Marks, December 25th, 1862, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Joseph B. Thompson, February 7th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Elbert W. Ball, August 5th, 1863, at New-Haven.


COMPANY B.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._.

  Corporal George E. Wilford.
  Private Timothy Callahan.

  Private Joseph Bennett.
          Patrick Condon.
          Josiah Johnson.
          Michael Taylor.
          L. Mortimer Willis.
          Edwin L. Wilford.

_At Gettysburg_.

Private Charles Paxden.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

  Corporal George E. Wilford, January 8th, 1863.
  Private Joseph Bennett, December 25th, 1862.
          Patrick Condon, December 28th, 1862, in hospital at Annapolis.
          Josiah Johnson, January 5th, 1863.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private George C. Baldwin, January 25th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Edward B. Dolph, March 20th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Lewis M. Tucker, October 10th, 1862, at Branford, Connecticut.
  Second Lieutenant Edmund B. Cross, August 6th, 1863, at New-Haven.


COMPANY C.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Private Charles Michael.
          Wilbur Nash.
          Joel C. Parmelee.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private Samuel B. Clark.

_At Gettysburg._

  Corporal Charles E. Cornwall.
  Color-Corporal Joseph Stevens.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Captain Addison C. Taylor.
  Second Lieutenant Charles B. Brooks.
  Sergeant Henry M. Stanton.
  Color-Corporal Henry E. Wing.
  Color-Corporal James L. Ambler.
  Color-Corporal Sydney R. Thompson.
  Private Hector Murphy.
          John Platt.
          George W. Hine.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Sergeant Charles S. Beatty.

_At Gettysburg._

  Color-Corporal William S. Bodwell.
  Corporal Gilbert A. W. Ford.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

  Captain Addison C. Taylor, March 13th, 1863, at New-Haven,
      Connecticut.
  Color-Corporal William L. Bodwell, July 5th, 1863, at Gettysburg.
  Color-Corporal Sydney R. Thompson, December 30th, 1862.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Color-Corporal Sydney H. Plumb, April 18th, 1863, at camp near
      Falmouth.
  Private John G. Clark, December 30th, 1862, in General Hospital,
      Washington.
  Private Harvey S. Welton, July 14th, 1863, near Harper’s Ferry,
      Virginia.


COMPANY D.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Sergeant Garry B. Sperry.
  Private William Reuter.
          Gilbert Keller.

_At Gettysburg._

  Private William O. Scott.
          William E. Wilson.
          Patrick Dunn.
          Marcus O. Judson.
          John Goodwin.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  First Lieutenant Frank H. Smith.
  Second Lieutenant Ellsworth A. Smith.
  Sergeant John A. Munson.
           Henry B. Hill.
           Benjamin H. Cobb.
           George B. Lego.
  Corporal Andrew J. Barnard.
  Private James Johnson.
          Alpheus D. Cobb.
          Thomas M. Kilcullen.
          Loren M. Higgins.
          John Mitchell.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Sergeant Fitch M. Parker.

_At Gettysburg._

  Captain Cornelius J. Dubois.
  First Sergeant George T. Swank.
  Private Dwight T. Brockett.
          Thomas M. Kilcullen.
          William Lee.
          Charles H. Nichols.
          John Phillips.
          Richard A. Tenner.
          John E. Williamson.
          John Hogan.
          Thomas G. Yale.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

  Sergeant Henry B. Hill, January 14th, 1863.
  Benjamin H. Cobb, January 19th, 1863.
  Private Loren M. Higgins, February 1st, 1863.
          John Mitchell, December 15th, 1862.
          Thomas G. Yale, August 26th, 1863, Philadelphia.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private John W. Lounsbury, December 8th, 1862.
  Private William Goodwill, December 10th, 1862, at College Hospital,
              Georgetown, D. C.
          Spencer Bronson.
          Thomas M. Kilcullen, September 10th, 1863, in Richmond,
              Virginia.


COMPANY E.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Corporal James G. Clinton.
  Private George Brown.
          Andrew B. Castle.
          Edward Thompson.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private William Burke.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Sergeant John D. Sherwood.
  Private Timothy Carroll.
          Seth Woodward.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Corporal Frederick G. Bell.
  Private Edward A. Dunning.
          David S. Rockwell.

_At Gettysburg._

  Private Charles H. Henderson.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private Jacob Schneider, January 19th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.


COMPANY F.


KILLED.

_At Gettysburg._

  Private Michael Confrey.
          Edward B. Farr.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  First Lieutenant DeWitt C. Sprague.
  Sergeant Henry D. Russell.
  Corporal Thomas Ward.
           James B. Munson.
           Elias C. Mix, Jr.
  Private John Crosby.
          John A. Hopkins.
          Charles Higgins.
          William A. Kelley.
          Dennis W. Tucker.
          James Williamson.
          Henry C. Wakelee.
          Henry A. Kelsey.
          Leonard Russell.
          William F. Tuttle.
          Jairus C. Eddy.
          Samuel Fowler, 2d.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Sergeant Thomas Ward.
  Private William Blakeslee.
          John Crosby.

_At Gettysburg._

  Captain Joseph R. Bradley.
  First Lieutenant Charles P. Prince.
  Sergeant Thomas Ward.
  Corporal Henry W. Clark.
  Private Edward B. Fowler.
          Daniel O’Neal.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Sergeant Henry D. Russell, January 4th, 1863, in hospital, Washington.
  Private Jairus C. Eddy, December 20th, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Samuel Fowler, 2d, January 9th, in hospital, Washington.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private John S. Robinson, June 18th, 1863, in Baltimore.


COMPANY G.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Sergeant Casper S. Gladwin.
  Corporal Andrew J. Boardman, Jr.
  Private Hosea B. Button.
          Henry H. Onthrup.

_At Gettysburg._

  Corporal William H. Stannis.
  Private John Griffin.
          Martin Merrill.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Nelson N. Beecher, June 24th, 1863.


COMPANY H.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  First Sergeant Thomas E. Barrett.
  Corporal Frank E. Alling.
           George I. Judson.
           George H. Mimmac.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private John Rawson.

_At Gettysburg._

  Captain Jedediah Chapman.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Sergeant Wareham A. Morse.
           Frederick E. Munson.
           William H. Alden.
  Private Joseph A. Rogers.
          Leicester J. Sawyer.
  Private Hezekiah P. Smith.
          Byron Ure.
          Frank L. Merwin.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private Silas Benham.
          James Braddock.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private Charles L. Alling, March 22d, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private Hezekiah P. Smith, January 18th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.


COMPANY I.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Corporal Corydon N. Thomas.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  First Lieutenant Samuel M. Smith.
  Color-Sergeant James Brand.
  Corporal Henry B. Wilcox.
           William G. Hill.
           Judson H. Dowd.
  Private Francis E. Beach.
          Dennis Crummy.
          Henry D. Calkins.
          Alvah R. Doane.
          Samuel J. Field.
  Private George S. Hill.
          Thomas Pentelow.
          Julian F. Watrous.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private George W. Beckwith.


DIED OF WOUNDS.

  Corporal William G. Hill, January 6th, 1863, in Washington.
  Private Rufus S. Shelley, December 29th, 1862, in hospital, at
      Georgetown, D. C.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private Joseph Hull, March 2d, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
  Private George S. Hill.
          William M. Phile, April 20th, 1863.


COMPANY K.


KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Captain Bernard E. Schweizer.
  Corporal Albert Cabanis.


WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

  Corporal Augustus Vogt.
  Private John Huber.
          George Gunther.
          Ernst Klein.
          Ernst Reuthe.
          John Schaffner.

_At Chancellorsville._

  Private Michael Hauserman.
          George Eckle.


DIED OF DISEASE.

  Private William F. Bernhardt, June 15th, 1863.


Tabular Statement of Casualties during the Nine Months’ Campaign.

  Legend:-
  F: Fredericksburg.
  C: Chancellorsville.
  G: Gettysburg.
  D: Of Disease.
  WF: Of wounds rec’d at Fredericksburg.
  WG: Of wounds rec’d at Gettysburg.
  Co: Company

  -----------------------------------------------------------------------
            |    KILLED.   |    WOUNDED.  |     DIED.    |  PRISONERS.
            |--------------+--------------+--------------+---------------
            |  F |  C |  G |  F |  C |  G | WF | WG |  D |  F |  C  |  G
  ----------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+-----+----
  Field and |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |     |
     Staff, | .. | .. |  1 |  1 | .. |  1 | .. | .. | .. | .. |   4 | ..
  Co. A,    |  2 | .. | .. |  5 | .. | .. |  1 | .. |  5 | .. |  37 | ..
  Co. B,    | .. | .. | .. |  8 | .. |  1 |  4 | .. |  3 | .. |  38 |  1
  Co. C,    |  3 |  1 |  2 |  9 |  1 |  2 |  2 |  1 |  3 | .. |  27 | ..
  Co. D,    |  3 | .. |  5 | 12 |  1 | 11 |  4 |  1 |  4 | .. |   2 |  1
  Co. E,    |  4 |  1 | .. |  3 |  3 |  1 | .. | .. |  1 |  2 |  29 | ..
  Co. F,    | .. | .. |  2 | 17 |  3 |  6 |  3 | .. |  1 | .. |   6 |  1
  Co. G,    | .. | .. | .. |  4 | .. |  3 | .. | .. |  1 | .. |  25 | ..
  Co. H,    |  4 |  1 |  1 |  8 |  2 | .. | .. | .. |  2 |  1 |  30 |  1
  Co. I,    |  1 | .. | .. | 13 |  1 | .. |  2 | .. |  3 | .. |  39 | ..
  Co. K,    |  2 | .. | .. |  6 |  2 | .. | .. | .. |  1 | .. |  42 | ..
  ----------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+-----+----
    Total,  | 19 |  3 | 11 | 86 | 13 | 25 | 16 |  2 | 24 |  3 | 280 |  4
  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

  Killed and wounded at Fredericksburg,                105
  Killed and wounded at Chancellorsville,               16
  Killed and wounded at Gettysburg,                     36
                                                       ---
      Total killed and wounded,                        157
  Deaths in battle and by wounds at Fredericksburg,     35
  Deaths in battle and by wounds at Chancellorsville,    3
  Deaths in battle and by wounds at Gettysburg,         13
                                                       ---
      Total deaths by battle,                           51
  Deaths by disease,                                    24
                                                       ---
      Total deaths by battle and disease,               75
                                                       ---
      Total killed, wounded, and deaths from disease,  181
  Taken prisoners,                                     287
                                                       ---
      Total casualties,                                468




ARMY COMMANDERS OF THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.


_Army of the Potomac._

  MAJOR-GENERAL AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE,
  MAJOR-GENERAL JOSEPH HOOKER,
  MAJOR-GENERAL GEORGE G. MEADE.


_Right Grand Division._

  MAJOR-GENERAL EDWIN V. SUMNER.


_Second Army Corps._

  MAJOR-GENERAL DARIUS N. COUCH,
  MAJOR-GENERAL WINFIELD S. HANCOCK.


_First Division._

  MAJOR-GENERAL WINFIELD S. HANCOCK,
  MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN C. CALDWELL.


_Third Brigade._

  BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL R. ZOOK.


_Fourth Brigade._

  BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN R. BROOKE.


FIELD AND STAFF.

  --------------+-------------------------+-----------+------------------+
       RANK.    |   NAME.                 | RESIDENCE.|     DATE OF      |
                |       REMARKS.          |           |   COMMISSION.    |
  --------------+-------------------------+-----------+------------------+
  Colonel,      |[B]Richard S. Bostwick,  | New-Haven,| Oct. 2d, 1862,   |
  Lieut.        |[B]Henry C. Merwin,      | New-Haven,| Oct. 2d, 1862,   |
      -Colonel, |      { Promoted from Captain, Co. A. Killed at         |
                |      {   Gettysburg, July 2d, 1863.                    |
  Major,        |   Theodore Byxbee,      | Meriden,  | Oct. 2d, 1862,   |
                |      Resigned, March 28th, 1863.                       |
  Major,        |[B]James H. Coburn,      | New-Haven,| March 28th, 1863,|
                |      Promoted from Captain, Co. A.                     |
  Adjutant,     |   George F. Peterson,   | New-Haven,| Oct. 6th, 1862,  |
  Quartermaster,|   H. Lynde Harrison,    | Branford, | Oct. 6th, 1862,  |
                |      Resigned, Jan. 20th, 1863.                        |
  Quartermaster,|   Ruel P. Cowles,       | New-Haven,| April 1st, 1863, |
                |      Appointed from Captain, Co. H.                    |
  Chaplain,     |   John W. Leek,         | New-Haven,| Nov. 10th, 1862, |
                |      { Resigned, March 25th, 1863, by reason of        |
                |      {   wound received at Fredericksburg.             |
  Surgeon,      |   Wm. O. McDonald,      | New-York, | Jan. 17th, 1863, |
                |      Discharged for promotion, May 23d, 1863.          |
  1st Asst.     |   Thomas M. Hills,      | New-Haven,| Oct. 27th, 1862, |
      -Surg.,   |      Discharged, Feb. 2d, 1863.                        |
  2d Asst.      |   Frederick S. Treadway,| New-Haven,| Oct. 18th, 1862, |
      -Surg.,   |      Resigned, March 24th, 1863.                       |
  --------------+-------------------------+-----------+------------------+


NON-COMMISSIONED STAFF.

  ---------------+------------------------+--------------+
       RANK.     |   NAME.                | RESIDENCE.   |
                 |       REMARKS.         |              |
  ---------------+------------------------+--------------+
  Sergeant-Major,|   Edmund B. Cross,     | New-Haven,   |
                 |      { Promoted 2d Lieutenant, Co. B, |
                 |      {   March 25th, 1863.            |
  Sergeant-Major,|[B]Francis A. Foster,   | Milford,     |
                 |      Appointed April 16th, 1863.      |
  Q. M. Sergeant,|   Charles A. Baldwin,  | New-Haven,   |
                 |      Appointed Oct. 8th, 1862.        |
  Com.-Sergeant, |   John H. Steadman,    | Meriden,     |
                 |      Appointed Oct. 8th, 1862.        |
  Hospital       |   Jesse W. Henry,      | Orange,      |
    Steward,     |      Appointed Oct. 8th, 1862.        |
  ---------------+------------------------+--------------+

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


OFFICERS OF THE LINE.

  ---------------+-----------------------+-----------+------------------+
                 |                       |           |     DATE OF      |
       RANK.     |   NAME.               | RESIDENCE.|   COMMISSION.    |
                 |       REMARKS.        |           |                  |
  ---------------+-----------------------+-----------+------------------+
    COMPANY A.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Henry C. Merwin,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 8th, 1862, |
                 |      { Promoted to be Lieut.-Colonel, Oct. 2d, 1862. |
                 |      {   Killed at Gettysburg, July 2d, 1863.        |
  1st Lieutenant,|   James H. Coburn,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 8th, 1862, |
                 |      { Promoted to be Captain, Oct. 2d, 1862,        |
                 |      {   and Major, March 28th, 1863.                |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Frank D. Sloat,     | New-Haven,| Sept. 8th, 1862, |
                 |      { Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, Oct. 2d, 1862, |
                 |      {   and Captain, March 28th, 1863.              |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Frank M. Chapman,   | New-Haven,| Oct. 2d, 1862,   |
                 |      Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, March 28th, 1863.|
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Adelbert P. Munson, | New-Haven,| March 28th, 1863,|
                 |      Promoted from 1st Sergeant.                     |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY B.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Calvin L. Ely,      | Branford, | Sept. 13th, 1862,|
  1st Lieutenant |   Daniel W. Fields,   |Wallingford| Sept. 13th, 1862,|
                 |      Resigned, March 25th, 1863.                     |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]George W. Elton,    |Wallingford| Sept. 13th, 1862,|
                 |      Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, March 25th, 1863.|
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Edmund B. Cross,    | New-Haven,| March 25th, 1863,|
                 |      Promoted from Sergeant-Major.                   |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY C.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Addison C. Taylor,  | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
                 |      { Died, March 13th, 1863, from wounds received  |
                 |      {   at Fredericksburg.                          |
  Captain,       |[B]Ira S. Beers,       | New-Haven,| March 13th, 1863,|
                 |      Promoted from 1st Lieutenant, Co. G.            |
  1st Lieutenant,|[B]Wm. R. Harmount,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
  2d Lieutenant, |   Chas. B. Brooks,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY D.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Cornelius J. Dubois,| New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
  1st Lieutenant,|   Frank H. Smith,     | New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
  2d Lieutenant, |   Ellsworth A. Smith, | New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
                 |      Resigned, April 16th, 1863.                     |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Sewell A. Dodge,    | New-York, | May 17th, 1863,  |
                 |      Promoted from 1st Sergeant.                     |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY E.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   George F. Hotchkiss,|Woodbridge,| Sept. 13th, 1862,|
                 |      Resigned, April 20th, 1863.                     |
  1st Lieutenant,|[B]David S. Thomas,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 13th, 1862,|
                 |      Promoted to be Captain, May 1st, 1863.          |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Wm. S. Rawson,      | New-Haven,| Sept. 13th, 1862,|
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY F.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Joseph R. Bradley,  |East-Haven,| Sept. 9th, 1862, |
  1st Lieutenant,|   De Witt C. Sprague, | New-Haven,| Sept. 9th, 1862, |
                 |      Honorably discharged, May 4th, 1863.            |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Charles P. Prince,  |East-Haven,| Oct. 18th, 1862, |
                 |      Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, May 17th, 1863.  |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Daniel Worcester,   |East-Haven,| May 17th, 1863,  |
                 |      Promoted from Sergeant.                         |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY G.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Theodore Byxbee,    | Meriden,  | Sept. 3d, 1862,  |
                 |      { Promoted to be Major, Oct. 2d, 1862;          |
                 |      {   resigned March 28th 1863.                   |
  1st Lieutenant,|   Ira S. Beers,       | New-Haven,| Sept. 3d, 1862,  |
                 |      Promoted to be Captain, Co. C, March 13th, 1863.|
  1st Lieutenant,|[B]Stillman Rice,      | Madison,  | March 13th, 1863,|
                 |      Promoted from 2d Lieutenant, Co. I.             |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Samuel T. Birdsall, | New-Haven,| Sept. 3d, 1862,  |
                 |      Promoted to be Captain, Oct. 2d, 1862.          |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Frank B. Wright,    | Meriden,  | Oct. 3d, 1862,   |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY H.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |   Ruel P. Cowles,     | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
                 |      { Resigned, April 1st, 1863, to accept          |
                 |      {   Quartermastership.                          |
  1st Lieutenant,|   Jedediah Chapman,   | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
                 |      { Promoted to be Captain, May 13th, 1863.       |
                 |      {   Killed at Gettysburg, July 2d, 1863.        |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Orrin C. Burdict,   | New-Haven,| Sept. 11th, 1862,|
                 |      Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, May 13th, 1863.  |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Winthrop D. Sheldon,| New-Haven,| May 13th, 1863,  |
                 |      Promoted from 1st Sergeant.                     |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY I.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |[B]Chas. M. Wilcox,    | Madison,  | Sept. 10th, 1862,|
  1st Lieutenant,|[B]Samuel M. Smith,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
  2d Lieutenant, |   Stillman Rice,      | Madison,  | Sept. 10th, 1862,|
                 |      { Promoted to be 1st Lieut., Co. G, March 13th, |
                 |      {   1863.                                       |
  2d Lieutenant, |   Charles W. Ely,     | Madison,  | March 13th, 1863,|
                 |      { Promoted from 1st Sergeant; resigned June 4th,|
                 |      {   1863.                                       |
                 |                       |           |                  |
    COMPANY K.   |                       |           |                  |
                 |                       |           |                  |
  Captain,       |  Bernard E. Schweizer,| New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
                 |      Killed at Fredericksburg, Dec. 13th, 1862.      |
  1st Lieutenant,|[B]Oswald Eschrich,    | New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
                 |      Promoted to be Captain, Feb. 28th, 1863.        |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Christian Weller,   | New-Haven,| Sept. 10th, 1862,|
                 |      Promoted to be 1st Lieutenant, Feb. 28th, 1863. |
  2d Lieutenant, |[B]Wm. Muhlner,        | New-Haven,| Feb. 28th, 1863, |
                 |      Promoted from 1st Sergeant.                     |
  ---------------+-----------------------+-----------+------------------+

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


COLOR-BEARERS.


SERGEANTS.

  James Brand.
  Amos N. Benton.

_By Promotion._

  John F. Sanford.


COLOR-GUARD.


CORPORALS.

  James L. Ambler.
  John M. Bristol.
  James W. Baird.
  Joseph R. Clark.
  Joseph B. De Witt.
  John F. Sanford.
  Sydney R. Thompson.
  Henry E. Wing.

_By Promotion._

  William L. Bodwell.
  Sydney H. Plumb.
  Joseph Stevens.
  George W. Tibbals.
  George E. Treadwell.




PROMOTIONS AMONG THE ENLISTED MEN.


COMPANY A.

  Third Sergeant Adelbert P. Munson to be First Sergeant and Second
      Lieutenant.
  Corporal Henry C. Shelton to be First Sergeant.
  Corporal George Ashdown to be Sergeant.
  Privates William H. Cornwall,
           Miles A. Goodrich,
           Samuel J. Hilliard,
           Sherwood S. Thompson,
           Samuel L. Stevens, to be Corporals.


COMPANY B.

  Privates Walter E. Fowler,
           Henry W. Hubbard,
           John K. Wilder, to be Corporals.


COMPANY C.

  Corporal Charles S. Beatty to be Sergeant.
  Private James Mulligan to be Corporal.


COMPANY D.

  First Sergeant Sewell A. Dodge to be Second Lieutenant.
  Fifth Sergeant George B. Lego to be Fourth Sergeant.
  Corporal Fitch M. Parker to be Fifth Sergeant.
           Augustus T. Freed to be Third Sergeant.
           George T. Swank to be First Sergeant.
  Private William E. Wilson to be Corporal.


COMPANY E.

  Privates George Clemson,
           Isaac Bradley, to be Corporals.


COMPANY F.

  Second Sergeant Daniel Worcester to be Second Lieutenant.
  Fifth Sergeant Stiles L. Beech to be Fourth Sergeant.
  Corporal Thomas Ward to be Fifth Sergeant.
  Private Moses Thomas to be Corporal.


COMPANY H.

  Private Winthrop D. Sheldon to be First Sergeant and Second Lieutenant.
  Private Origen Parker to be Sergeant.
  Privates Amariah Bailey,
           William A. Parmalee,
           William G. Martin,
           Edward McCormick,
           Ambrose W. Hastings, to be Corporals.


COMPANY I.

  First Sergeant Charles W. Ely to be Second Lieutenant.
  Privates James R. Matthews,
           John N. Watrous,
           Henry Walton, to be Corporals.


COMPANY K.

  First Sergeant William Muhlner to be Second Lieutenant.
  Corporal Louis Trappe to be Sergeant.
  Private Carl H. Hager to be Corporal.




PIONEER CORPS.


A.

  Charles J. Morris.


B.

  George W. Baldwin.
  Nelson Vibbert.


C.

  Sylvester R. Snow.


D.

  Henry E. Smith.


E.

  John B. Hartshorn.


F.

  Elizur E. Page.


G.

  Nelson N. Beecher.


H.

  Edward E. Gamsby.
  David Ford.


I.

  Corporal Henry Walton.


K.

  Adam Rutz.




  CATALOGUE
  OF
  ENLISTED MEN.


INFANTRY COMPANY A.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 3D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Richard H. Fowler,               New-Haven.
  Nelson S. Wilmot,                Orange.
  [B]Adelbert P. Munson,           New-Haven.
  James B. Blair,                      “
  [B]Alexander H. Coburn,              “

_Corporals._

  [B]Henry C. Shelton,                 “
  [B]George B. Durrie,                 “
  William C. Peck,                     “
  Wm. A. Goodwin, Jr.,                 “
  [B]William H. Merwin,                “
  William C. Tyler,                    “
  [B]Robert C. Arnold,                 “
  William K. Barlow,                   “

_Musicians._

  Edward P. Donnelly,                  “
  Samuel C. Waldron,                   “

_Wagoner._

  George A. Bradley,                   “

_Privates._

  Ahern, Otto,                         “
  Augur, Charles B.,                   “
  [B]Ashdown, George,                  “
  [B]Backus, Chester H.,               “
  Backus, George A.,                   “
  [B]Ball, Elbert W.,                  “
  Barnes, Henry E.,                    “
  [B]Barnes, William H.,               “
  Bainbridge, Henry H.,                “
  [B]Best, William,                    “
  [B]Bradley, DeWitt V.,           Orange.
  [B]Bradley, George H.,           New-Haven.
  Bradley, Franklin,               Orange.
  Bulkley, Frederick,              New-Haven.
  [B]Cowan, Joseph W.,                 “
  Cornwall, Wm. H.,                    “
  Dawson, Frank T.,                    “
  Dardelle, Antonio,               Clinton.
  Dibbel, Samuel,                     “
  Doolittle, Lewis E.,             New-Haven.
  Doolittle, Daniel H.,            Bethany.
  Fairchild, Augustus B.,          New-Haven.
  [B]French, Smith B.,             Orange.
  [B]Fenn, William S.,                “
  [B]Fenton, Frederick B.,         New-Haven.
  Fox, Simeon J.,                      “
  [B]Goodrich, Miles A.,               “
  [B]Hopkins, Sereno A.,               “
  Hall, Aaron A.,                      “
  Hilliard, Henry B.,                  “
  Hilliard, Lewis F.,                  “
  [B]Hilliard, Samuel J.,          Clinton.
  Hotchkiss, Lauren R.,            New-Haven.
  [B]Hofacker, Conrad,                 “
  Hazzard, Edward C.,                  “
  [B]Isbell, Wyllis,                   “
  Jacobs, John,                        “
  Johnson, Frank A.,                   “
  Lanman, John T.,                     “
  Lindsley, Charles T.,                “
  Marks, Treat A.,                 Milford.
  Merritt, Charles L.,             New-Haven.
  [B]Merrells, John W.,                “
  [B]Morris, Charles J.,           Orange.
  Potter, Samuel L.,                  “
  [B]Ransom, George,               New-Haven.
  [B]Rice, George M.,                  “
  [B]Rice, Oliver W.,                  “
  [B]Scharff, Augustus A.,             “
  Scoville, William W.,                “
  [B]Stannard, Orson,                  “
  [B]Stevens, Samuel J.,               “
  Stevens, Alonzo H.,              Clinton.
  [B]Stevens, Samuel L., Jr.,         “
  [B]Story, Richard L.,            New-Haven.
  [B]Storer, George,                   “
  Thompson, Joseph B.,             Orange.
  [B]Thompson, Sherw. S.,          New-Haven.
  Tuttle, Cyrus W.,                Orange.
  Trowbridge, George T.,              “
  [B]Wallace, Robert M.,              “
  Wallace, Thomas H.,                 “
  Wilcox, E. LeRoy,                New-Haven.
  Wright, Williston S.,            Orange.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY B.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 3D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  [B]Daniel Averill, 2d,           Branford.
  [B]Robert B. Goodyear,           North-Haven.
  [B]Samuel S. Cook,               Branford.
  Alonzo F. Hubbell,                   “
  [B]Billious C. Hall,             Wallingford.

_Corporals._

  George M. Prout,                 Branford.
  Albert Harrison,                 North Branford.
  Samuel Beach,                    Branford.
  Henry D. Boardman,               North Branford.
  [B]Charles A. Young,             Branford.
  [B]George S. Rogers,                 “
  George G. Wilford,                   “
  Isaac K. Hall,                   Wallingford.

_Musicians._

  Byron Hill,                          “
  Henry Z. Nichols,                Branford.

_Wagoner._

  Rudolphus Bartholomew,               “

_Privates._

  Baldwin, George C.,                  “
  [B]Beach, William H.,                “
  Bennett, Joseph,                     “
  [B]Beach, Harvey,                    “
  Bradshaw, William,               Wallingford.
  [B]Beaumount, Harvey,                “
  [B]Backus, Michael,                  “
  [B]Baldwin, George W.,           Branford.
  Bunnell, William,                    “
  Camp, Henry A.,                  Wallingford.
  [B]Camp, Joel,                       “
  Condon, Patrick,                     “
  Condon, John,                        “
  Callahan, Timothy,                   “
  [C]Cusher, Joseph,               Branford.
  [B]Dibble, Elizur B.,                “
  Dolph, Edward B.,                Wallingford.
  [B]Ennis, James,                     “
  Evans, Thomas H.,                    “
  [B]Fowler, Walter E.,            Guilford.
  [B]Foster, Andrew,               New-Haven.
  Fairchild, Douglass,             Wallingford.
  Gallaghan, William J.,               “
  [B]Hubbard, Henry W.,            Branford.
  Hotchkiss, John,                     “
  Hart, Henry F.,                      “
  Higgs, Israel,                   New-Haven.
  Hall, Roger,                     Branford.
  [B]Harrison, Nathan,             North Branford.
  Holmes, William W.,              Wallingford.
  Johnson, Josiah,                 North Branford.
  [B]Johnson, Homer R.,            Wallingford.
  [B]Kelsey, Richard T.,           Guilford.
  Kneringer, Matthias,             Branford.
  [B]Kennedy, James,               Wallingford.
  [B]Lamm, Adam,                   North-Haven.
  [B]McGowen, James,               Wallingford.
  [B]O’Neil, Michael,              Branford.
  [B]O’Brien, Thomas,              North Haven.
  [B]O’Brien, Edward,              Wallingford.
  [B]O’Brien, John,                Branford.
  [B]Palmer, William B.,               “
  Parsons, Edwin W.,                   “
  Palmer, Nathan A.,               North-Haven.
  Paden, Charles,                  Wallingford.
  [B]Page, James B.,               Guilford.
  Sheldon, Edward D.,              Branford.
  Stone, Elizur C.,                North Branford.
  Smith, Elbert J.,                North-Haven.
  Sloman, James,                   Wallingford.
  Shepard, Harvey G.,              Branford.
  [B]Tyler, Obed L.,                   “
  [B]Taylor, Michael,              Wallingford.
  [B]Todd, Kirtland,               North-Haven.
  Todd, Beri M.,                   New-Haven.
  Todd, Henry D.,                  North-Haven.
  Tucker, Lewis M.,                Branford.
  Tyler, William A.,                   “
  [B]Vibbert, Nelson,              Wallingford.
  Wilford, Edwin L.,               Branford.
  [B]Wheaton, Merwin,              North Branford.
  [B]Willis, L. Mortimer,          Branford.
  Wallace, William,                Wallingford.
  [B]Wilder, John K.,                  “
  Yale, Solomon,                   Branford.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.

[C] Taken prisoner at Gettysburg.


INFANTRY COMPANY C.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 4TH, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Edward H. Carrington,            New-Haven.
  [B]Edwin B. Baldwin,             Milford.
  Henry M. Stanton,                Norwalk.
  Francis A. Foster,               Milford.
  Amos N. Benton,                  Guilford.

_Corporals._

  Charles E. Cornwall,             Milford.
  Oliver S. Bishop,                Norwalk.
  [B]Joseph L. Stearns,            New-Haven.
  [B]Agur Wheeler,                     “
  Irad Fuller,                         “
  Gilbert A. W. Ford,                  “
  Charles Hurlburt,                    “
  [B]Charles S. Beatty,            Norwalk.

_Musicians._

  Horace W. Brockett,              New-Haven.
  Thomas I. Persons,                   “

_Wagoner._

  George Kellogg,                  Norwalk.

_Privates._

  Ambler, James L.,                Norwalk.
  Baldwin, Dennis E.,              Milford.
  [B]Baldwin, Roger S.,               “
  Baird, James W.,                    “
  Beard, William A.,                  “
  [B]Beatty, George E.,            Norwalk.
  Beers, Calvin H.,                Guilford.
  Benjamin, David W.,              Milford.
  Bishop, Edward L.,               Guilford.
  Bristol, John M.,                New-Haven.
  [B]Bristol, S. Allen,            Guilford.
  [B]Burton, Henry,                Milford.
  Bodwell, William L.,             Norwalk.
  [B]Brown, John T.,                  “
  Clark, Almond E.,                Milford.
  Clark, John G.,                     “
  Clark, Joseph R.,                   “
  Clark, Samuel B.,                Milford.
  Church, William W.,              Durham.
  [B]Conway, William,              New-Haven.
  [B]Cornwall, Frederick,          Milford.
  [B]Denton, Hart,                 Norwalk.
  De Witt, Joseph B.,              New-York
  Disbrow, James H.,               Norwalk.
  [B]Dodge, Jeremiah R.,           Milford.
  Douglass, George,                New-Haven.
  Fitch, Theodore,                 Norwalk.
  [B]Ford, Charles W.,             Milford.
  Graham, William W.,                 “
  [B]Hallett, Henry,               Norwalk.
  Hine, George W.,                 Milford.
  [B]Hine, Lewis,                     “
  Hubbell, Allen P.,               Norwalk.
  [B]Jansen, Albert,               New-Haven.
  Johnson, David T.,                   “
  Joyce, Henry E.,                     “
  Lyman, Chester,                      “
  [B]Lyman, Henry W.,                  “
  Michael, Charles,                Milford.
  [B]Mulligan, James,              New-Haven.
  Murphy, Hector,                      “
  [B]Nash, Olin,                   Norwalk.
  Nash, Wilbur,                       “
  Payne, Elisha T.,                   “
  Parmele, Joel C.,                Guilford.
  Platt, John,                     New-Haven.
  Plumb, Sidney H.,                Milford.
  Pike, Lewis,                     New-Haven.
  [B]Rogers, George E.,            Milford.
  Sanford, John F.,                   “
  [B]Smith, Caleb,                    “
  [B]Snow, Sylvester R.,           Guilford.
  Stevens, Joseph,                 New-Haven.
  Stowe, Edgar P.,                 Orange.
  [B]Talcott, Samuel T.,           New-Haven.
  Thompson, Sidney R.,             Bridgewater.
  Tibbals, George W.,              Milford.
  Tibbals, James S.,                  “
  Treadwell, George E.,            New-Haven.
  Welch, Lewis M.,                 Milford.
  Welton, Harvey S.,               Guilford.
  White, Charles E.,               Norwalk.
  Wing, Henry E.,                     “
  [B]Wixon, James E.,                 “

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY D.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 22D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Sewell A. Dodge,                 New-York.
  John A. Munson,                  New-Haven.
  Henry B. Hill,                       “
  Benjamin H. Cobb,                    “
  [B]George B. Lego,                   “

_Corporals._

  Charles Dodge,                   New-Haven.
  Fitch M. Parker,                     “
  Harvy Brown,                         “
  William S. Peck,                 Woodbridge.
  George T. Swank,                 New-York.
  George W. Barry,                 New-Haven.
  Augustus T. Freed,               New-York.
  Andrew J. Barnard,               Waterbury.

_Wagoner._

  Frank Sanford,                   New-Haven.

_Privates._

  Bronson, Spencer,                Waterbury.
  Brockett, Dwight T.,             New-Haven.
  Bennett, Edgar H.,               Woodbridge.
  Burwell, Arnold T.,              Milford.
  Beecher, George E.,              New-Haven.
  Bowns, Teunis,                       “
  Craig, Edward,                       “
  Church, Henry,                       “
  Cady, George E.,                     “
  Cobb, Alpheus D.,                    “
  Clock, Gilbert L.,                   “
  Dunn, Patrick,                   Wallingford.
  Eagan, Thomas,                   New-Haven.
  Ford, William B.,                Bethany.
  Griffing, Richard H.,            New-Haven.
  Goodwill, William,                   “
  Goodwin, John,                       “
  Griswold, Isaac,                     “
  Higgins, Loren M.,                   “
  Hitchcock, Dwight L.,            Bethany.
  Hogan, John,                     New-Haven.
  Hotchkiss, Lewis W.,             Bethany.
  Hildreth, Charles B.,            New-Haven.
  Hildreth, John L.,                   “
  Hitchcock, Lewis,                Bethany.
  Hitchcock, Ransom,                  “
  Hipelius, Frederick,             New-Haven.
  Judson, Marcus O.,                   “
  Jones, William H.,                   “
  Johnson, James,                      “
  Jewett, Joseph W.,               Prospect.
  Kent, William H.,                New-Haven.
  Keller, Gilbert,                     “
  Kahn, William,                       “
  Keeler, Herbert E.,                  “
  [C]Kilcullen, Thomas M.,             “
  [C]Lee, William,                     “
  Lounsbury, John W.,              Bethany.
  Lowrie, Robert,                      “
  Loop, Charles N.,                New-York.
  Mitchell, John,                  Bethany.
  Mills, William C.,                  “
  Nichols, Charles H.,                “
  Nichols, Stephen G.,             New-Haven.
  Phillips, John,                      “
  Potter, Willis,                      “
  Reuter, William,                     “
  Rogers, Charles A.,                  “
  Robinson, Lorenzo,                   “
  Robertson, James M.,                 “
  [B]Smith, Henry E.,                  “
  Sperry, Garry B.,                    “
  Schrimper, William,                  “
  Schaner, Paul,                       “
  Sharples, Samuel,                    “
  Scott, William O.,               Milford.
  Tuttle, Wesley P.,               New-Haven.
  Tenner, Richard A.,                  “
  Torney, Claus,                       “
  Taylor, George H.,                   “
  Thoman, Philip,                      “
  Talmadge, Frederick L.,              “
  Thompson, John,                      “
  Williamson, John E.,                 “
  Wilson, William E.,              New-York.
  Yale, Thomas G.,                 New-Haven.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.

[C] Taken prisoner at Gettysburg.


INFANTRY COMPANY E.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 22D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  J. Fletcher Hermance,            New-Haven.
  [B]Henry N. Horton,                  “
  [B]Almarine Hayward,                 “
  [B]Chauncey Hickox,                  “
  John D. Sherwood,                    “

_Corporals._

  [B]Frederick Lundberg,           New-Haven.
  [B]Charles O. West,                  “
  [B]John P. Tyrrell,                  “
  [B]Amos J. Herkins,                  “
  Wm. H. Peckman,                      “
  James G. Clinton,                    “
  [B]George T. Dade,                   “
  Frederick G. Bell,                   “

_Musicians._

  Benjamin E. Brown,               New-Haven.
  Wm. L. Parmalee,                     “

_Wagoner._

  Homer W. Fenn,                   Woodbridge.

_Privates._

  Andrews, Gilead T.,              New-Haven.
  Andrews, Norris,                     “
  Bradley, Joseph W.,              Woodbridge.
  Brown, George,                   New-Haven.
  Baldwin, Edward F.,              Woodbridge.
  Burke, William,                  Cheshire.
  [B]Bradley, Isaac,               Woodbridge.
  [B]Baldwin, Charles,                 “
  Bryan, James A.,                 New-Haven.
  Behinger, Julius,                    “
  Castle, Andrew B.,                   “
  Choisy, Albert,                      “
  [B]Clemson, George,              Bridgewater.
  Carrol, Timothy,                 New-Haven.
  Dunning, Edward A.,                  “
  Doran, Philip,                       “
  Demorest, Charles,                   “
  Elliott, William,                    “
  Elkins, George W.,               New-Haven.
  [B]Fuller, Philo S.,                 “
  Fortunata, Charles,                  “
  [B]Golden, John C.,                  “
  Hartmann, Conrad,                    “
  Hungerford, George W.,               “
  Henderson, Charles H.,               “
  [B]Homan, Elisha F.,                 “
  [B]Hartshorn, John B.,           Orange.
  Holmes, William,                 New-Haven.
  [B]Hickey, William,                  “
  Hill, Jahleel,                   Norwich.
  [B]Hagemeyer, August,            New-Haven.
  Hellgrau, John,                      “
  [B]Munson, William,              North Branford.
  McNeil, William S.,              New-Haven.
  Mansfield, Frederick O.,             “
  [B]McEvoy, Edward,                   “
  [B]McHattie, Thomas,                 “
  [B]Mabie, Henry,                 Bridgewater.
  [B]Mabie, James H.,                  “
  Orlemann, Louis,                 New-Haven.
  [B]Patterson, Robert G.,             “
  [B]Paulscraft, George,           Bridgewater.
  Platt, Cornelius,                New-Haven.
  Rose, Daniel,                    Wolcott.
  Rockwell, David S.,              New-Haven.
  [B]Rosha, Adrian C.,             Bethany.
  Ryan, John H.,                   New-Haven.
  [B]Rice, James W.,               Bethany.
  Stein, Frederick,                Easton.
  [B]Squire, John H.,              Farmington.
  Stinson, Avery,                  New-Haven.
  [A]Stone, Richard,                   “
  Smith, Charles F.,                   “
  Sperry, Charles,                     “
  [A]Sperry, John M.,                  “
  Smith, James,                        “
  Schneider, Jacob,                    “
  Tuttle, Henry E.,                    “
  Thompson, Edward,                    “
  Woodward, Seth,                      “
  Wilson, William,                     “
  Warner, Stephen B.,                  “
  [B]Waldron, Henry O.,                “
  Wilson, John,                        “

[A] Taken prisoner at Fredericksburg.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY F.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 18TH, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Henry A. Barnes,                 New-Haven.
  Daniel Worcester,                East-Haven.
  Charles A. Tuttle,                   “
  Henry D. Russell,                    “
  Stiles L. Beech,                 New-Haven.

_Corporals._

  Thomas Ward,                     New-Haven.
  Elias C. Mix, Jr.,                   “
  James B. Munson,                     “
  [B]Alvan B. Rose,                East-Haven.
  Albert Bradley,                      “
  Henry W. Clark,                  New-Haven.
  George E. Dudley,                    “
  George S. Hine,                      “

_Musicians._

  Charles W. Wilcox,               New-Haven.
  Charles M. Barnes,               East-Haven.

_Wagoner._

  Charles L. Rowe,                 East-Haven.

_Privates._

  Allen, John,                     East-Haven.
  Adams, John,                     North Branford.
  Burrell, David,                  East-Haven.
  Brockett, Lewis,                     “
  Brockett, George E.,             North-Haven.
  Burwell, A. R.,                  New-Haven.
  Barnes, Andrew J.,                   “
  Brady, John,                         “
  Bradley, Rodney,                 East-Haven.
  Benton, Edward R.,               Guilford.
  Buckmaster, Robert S.,           New-Haven.
  Bristoll, William T.,                “
  [B]Baldwin, Theodore,            Orange.
  Beecher, Charles L.,                “
  Blakeslee, William,              New-Haven.
  Condon, Morris,                      “
  Crosby, John,                        “
  [B]Collins, George C. H.,        New-Haven.
  Confrey, Michael,                    “
  [B]Cady, Arrah B.,               Woodbury.
  Deming, Calvin,                  East-Haven.
  Eddy, Jairus C.,                 New-Haven.
  Fowler, Edward B.,               East-Haven.
  Farr, Edward B.,                 New-Haven.
  Ferris, Adam,                        “
  Fowler, Samuel, 2d,              Guilford.
  Goodsell, Luzerne,               New-Haven.
  Higgins, Charles,                East-Haven.
  Hope, James H.,                  New-Haven.
  [B]Hopkins, John A.,                 “
  Hemingway, Willis E.,            East-Haven.
  Judd, Truman O.,                 North-Haven.
  Kelley, William A.,              East-Haven.
  Kelsey, Henry A.,                New-Haven.
  Leonard, George A.,                  “
  Mallory, Zina,                   East-Haven.
  Mallory, Lyman A.,                   “
  Marks, Hobert P.,                New-Haven.
  Meers, Frank B.,                     “
  Munson, Charles,                     “
  O’Neal, Daniel,                      “
  Prout, William,                  East-Haven.
  Potter, Charles E.,                  “
  Potter, Leverett,                    “
  [B]Page, Elizur E.,              North Branford.
  Parmalee, Smith,                 New-Haven.
  Russell, Leonard,                East-Haven.
  Robinson, John S.,               North Branford.
  Richmond, William W.,            New-Haven.
  Riggs, Ranford,                      “
  Stebbins, James,                     “
  Showles, Jacob J.,                   “
  Talmadge, Alson L.,                  “
  Tucker, Dennis W.,               North-Haven.
  Tuttle, William F.,              New-Haven.
  Treat, Horace,                   Orange.
  Thomas, Moses,                   New-Haven.
  Turner, Edward H.,                   “
  Ward, Joseph,                    Wallingford.
  Wharton, John E.,                New-Haven.
  Williamson, James,                   “
  Wilcox, Edward T.,                   “
  Wakelee, Henry C.,                   “
  Wilmont, Henry F.,                   “

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY G.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 22D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Solomon H. Wood,                 Meriden.
  Casper S. Gladwin,               Haddam.
  George W. Taylor,                Meriden.
  Allen D. Baldwin,                Orange.
  [B]Lucius Kentfield,             New-Haven.

_Corporals._

  And. J. Boardman, Jr.,           East Haddam.
  William H. Stannis,              Meriden.
  [B]George L. Seymour,               “
  Collins Upson,                      “
  Gilbert Upson,                      “
  [B]Stiles D. Woodruff,           Orange.
  Albert J. Puffer,                Meriden.
  [B]William H. Stewart,           New-Haven.

_Musicians._

  Thomas W. Crawford,              Meriden.
  William S. Bronson,              New-Haven.

_Wagoner._

  James M. Warner,                 Meriden.

_Privates._

  Bailey, Harvey E.,               Haddam.
  [B]Brinton, Charles P.,          Farmington.
  [B]Beecher, Nelson N.,           New-Haven.
  Button, Hosea B.,                    “
  Chapman, John,                   East-Haddam.
  [B]Carter, James T.,             Meriden.
  Clark, Edwin C.,                    “
  Chatfield, Edwin,                Seymour.
  [B]Coe, Nathan,                  Barkhamsted.
  [B]Clark, E. Beach,              New-Haven.
  [B]Clark, Albertus N.,           Orange.
  [B]Calkins, Arthur B.,           New-Haven.
  Charters, Lucian W.,                 “
  Clarke, Everett B.,              Orange.
  [B]Dunbar, Peter,                New-Haven.
  Eggleston, Augustus,             Barkhamsted.
  [B]Fergurson, William J.,        Meriden.
  Fowler, Frank,                   New-Haven.
  [B]Gladwin, Frank O.,            Meriden.
  Glynn, Patrick,                  New-Haven.
  [B]Grant, Joseph,                Meriden.
  Griffin, John,                   New-Haven.
  Harvey, Amos S.,                 East-Haddam.
  Harding, Charles,                New-Haven.
  Holcomb, Charles F.,                 “
  Hartley, William,                    “
  Isbell, Harlow R.,               Meriden.
  Kinsey, Charles P.,              New-Haven.
  Lowell, Reuben W.,               Meriden.
  Lomax, Thomas,                   New-Haven.
  [B]Miles, Wallace A.,            Meriden.
  Marsh, Florence H.,              New-Haven.
  Merrill, Martin,                 Orange.
  Merwin, Edwin F.,                New-Haven.
  Onthrup, Henry H.,                   “
  Pierpont, J. Evelyn,                 “
  Russell, Stephen D.,             Orange.
  [B]Russell, William M.,             “
  [B]Sanford, Andrew H.,           New-Haven.
  [B]Spellman, James,              Seymour.
  [B]Skinner, Edwin F.,            East-Haddam.
  [B]Symonds, Charles A.,          Meriden.
  Sedgwick, Henry,                    “
  Steel, Edward J.,                   “
  Smith, Henry,                    Chester.
  Scobie, William C.,              New-Haven.
  [B]Smith, Charles F.,            Orange.
  Snow, Albert H.,                 New-Haven.
  Sliney, David,                   Branford.
  Treat, Charles H.,               Orange.
  [B]Treat, Thelus C.,                “
  Yale, Merritt A.,                New-Haven.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY H.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 22D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Thomas E. Barrett,               New-Haven.
  Wareham A. Morse,                    “
  [B]Simeon Smith,                     “
  Frederick E. Monson,                 “
  [B]William H. Alden,                 “

Corporals.

  [B]David S. Eldridge,            New-Haven.
  Samuel Lloyd,                        “
  [B]Henry F. Peck,                    “
  Edgar S. Dowd,                       “
  Henry J. Beecher,                    “
  Frank E. Alling,                     “
  George I. Judson,                    “
  George H. Mimmack,                   “

_Musicians._

  William J. Gore,                 New-Haven.
  Willie P. Downs,                     “

_Wagoner._

  Leander F. Johnson,              Madison.

_Privates._

  Alling, Charles L.,              New-Haven.
  Arndt, Carl,                         “
  [B]Atwood, Joseph,                   “
  Barnes, Henry A.,                    “
  [B]Beach, George H.,                 “
  Benham, Henry E.,                    “
  Benham, Silas,                       “
  Benham, James W.,                    “
  Braddock, James,                     “
  [B]Bailey, Amariah,                  “
  Boyle, Edward,                   Wallingford.
  [B]Carroll, Frank,               New-Haven.
  [B]Cashman, Thomas,                  “
  [B]Chamberlin, M. N.,                “
  Covert, Alexander H.,                “
  [B]Dade, Charles J.,                 “
  Davis, Bronson F.,                   “
  Davis, Wells R.,                     “
  [B]Doty, William,                    “
  Dennison, William,               New-Haven.
  Dewire, Timothy,                 Harwinton.
  Ford, Charles A.,                New-Haven.
  [B]Ford, David,                      “
  Ford, William C.,                    “
  Fay, Charles,                        “
  Friend, Joseph,                      “
  Gamsby, Edward E.,                   “
  Gay, William B.,                     “
  [B]Grant, William R.,                “
  [B]Hastings, Ambrose W.,             “
  [C]Hine, Samuel,                     “
  Johnson, Alphonso O.,            Orange.
  [B]Kinney, William C.,           New-Haven.
  [B]Mansfield, Edward G.,             “
  [B]Martin, William G.,               “
  [B]McCormick, Edward,                “
  McGinnis, John J.,                   “
  McDougal, George J.,                 “
  [B]Miller, Richard,                  “
  [A]Morgan, John,                     “
  Moses, William W.,                   “
  Merwin, Frank L.,                    “
  Olmsted, Marvin,                     “
  [B]Palmer, Richard,                  “
  [B]Parker, Origen,                   “
  [B]Parmalee, William A.,             “
  Peterson, Ernest A.,                 “
  [B]Quinn, Cornelius,             Harwinton.
  Rawson, John,                    New-Haven.
  Riker, John E.,                      “
  [B]Robinson, Augus. R.,              “
  Rogers, Joseph A.,                   “
  Ryan, James,                         “
  Sawyer, Lester J.,                   “
  Seward, Silas W.,                    “
  [B]Sheldon, Winthrop D.,             “
  Spencer, John R.,                    “
  Sperry, Edward M.,                   “
  Smith, Hezekiah P.,                  “
  Tomlinson, Peter,                Derby.
  [B]Tanner, Norman A.,            New-Haven.
  [B]Tuttle, Henry C.,                 “
  Ure, Byron,                          “
  [B]Whitney, William M.,              “
  Willoughby, John,                    “

[A] Taken prisoner at Fredericksburg.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.

[C] Taken prisoner at Gettysburg.


INFANTRY COMPANY I.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 22D, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  Charles W. Ely,                  Madison.
  James Brand,                     New-Haven.
  [B]William B. Hunter,            Madison.
  [B]Wm. B. Crampton,                 “
  [B]Thomas S. Field,                 “

_Corporals._

  Henry B. Wilcox,                    “
  William Hunter,                  New-Haven.
  Corydon N. Thomas,               Madison.
  William G. Hill,                 New-Haven.
  [B]Henry H. Smith,                   “
  James S. Brockett,                   “
  [B]George E. Wheaton,            Madison.
  Judson H. Dowd,                     “

_Musicians._

  Eugene A. Chatfield,             New-Haven.
  A. Dutton Hall,                      “

_Wagoner._

  Sidney W. Buck,                      “

_Privates._

  Adams, Edward P.,                Wethersfield.
  Bean, William H.,                New-Haven.
  Beckwith, George W.,                 “
  [B]Bailey, Frederick F.,         Madison.
  Bailey, John B.,                    “
  Beach, Francis E.,               New-Haven.
  [B]Blake, Edson S.,              Madison.
  Bulkeley, Henry,                 Vernon.
  [B]Crane, John N.,               New-Haven.
  [B]Cutler, Charles L.,               “
  Crummy, Dennis,                  Seymour.
  Calkins, Henry D.,               New-Haven.
  [B]Dickinson, William J.,            “
  [B]Dorman, Joel H.,                  “
  [B]Day, Thomas,                  Madison.
  Doane, Alvah R.,                    “
  [B]Dowd, James Hull,                “
  [B]Dowd, James R.,               Madison.
  [B]Dowd, Timothy A.,                “
  Dudley, Sylvester S.,               “
  Dudley, Lancellotte,                “
  Eckhart, Joseph M.,                 “
  [B]Farren, George L.,            New-Haven.
  [B]Faughnan, John,                   “
  Foote, Wallace J.,                   “
  [B]Field, Samuel J.,             Madison.
  [B]Foster, Frank,                   “
  [B]Fitzgerald, Michael,          Bethany.
  [B]Gould, Jonathan H.,           New-Haven.
  Hine, Albert H.,                     “
  Howd, Henry C.,                      “
  Heitman, Adrian C.,                  “
  Hall, Selden,                    Madison.
  [B]Hill, George S.,                 “
  Hill, Horace O.,                    “
  [B]Hopson, Addison A.,              “
  [B]Hull, Frederick W.,              “
  Hull, Joseph,                       “
  Kane, James,                     Newtown.
  [B]Lee, James,                   New-Haven.
  [B]Meigs, Timothy A.,            Madison.
  Matthews, James R.,              New-Haven.
  Norton, George W.,               Madison.
  Norton, Joseph R.,                  “
  [B]Norton, William S.,              “
  Phile, William M.,               New-Haven.
  [B]Price, William W.,                “
  [B]Patterson, William E.,            “
  Pentelow, Thomas,                Madison.
  Rolf, Henry,                        “
  [B]Ryan, Patrick,                Seymour.
  [B]Smith, Samuel S.,             Madison.
  [B]Smith, Frederick M.,          New-Haven.
  [B]Scranton, Daniel F.,          Madison.
  Shelley, Rufus S.,                  “
  [B]Spencer, James E.,               “
  Spencer, Thomas J.,              Clinton.
  Thompson, James E.,              New-Haven.
  Thompson, Julius,                    “
  [B]Watrous, John N.,             Madison.
  Watrous, Julian F.,                 “
  [B]Walton, Henry,                New-Haven.
  Yemmans, William H.,             Litchfield.
  [B]Young, Charles H.,            Madison.

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.


INFANTRY COMPANY K.

MUSTERED INTO UNITED STATES SERVICE OCTOBER 18TH, 1862.

_Sergeants._

  William Muhlner,                 New-Haven.
  Louis Oppertshauser,                 “
  [B]George Nichtern,                  “
  [B]Frederick Buchholz,               “
  [B]Charles Weidig,                   “

_Corporals._

  [B]Louis Trappe,                     “
  [B]John Boehm,                       “
  Henry Hoffman,                       “
  Gustus Vogt,                         “
  Auguste Halfinger,                   “
  [B]Peter Schmidt,                    “
  Carl Wunsch,                         “
  [B]Henry Vogt,                       “

_Musicians._

  [B]Wilbur F. Calkins,                “
  [B]Charles Spreyer,                  “

_Wagoner._

  Chas. W. Prætorius,                  “

_Privates._

  [B]Baers, William,                   “
  [B]Beahring, William,                “
  Bernhardt, Wm. F.,                   “
  [B]Bauer, George,                    “
  [B]Baumer, Matthias,                 “
  Bruning, William L.,                 “
  Becker, Charles,                     “
  Cabanis, Albert,                     “
  [B]Dobel, Frederick,                 “
  [B]Eckle, George,                    “
  [B]Frank, Louis,                     “
  [B]Ganser, Andrew,                   “
  Gunther, George,                     “
  Gunther, Michael,                    “
  [B]Glamtner, Joseph,                 “
  Hermann, John G.,                    “
  Herman, Jacob,                       “
  [B]Hauserman, Michael,           New-Haven.
  Haiden, William,                     “
  [B]Hartung, Frank,                   “
  [B]Hager, Carl H.,                   “
  [B]Hegel, John,                      “
  [B]Henkel, Frederick,                “
  Huber, Anton,                        “
  [B]Huber, John,                      “
  [B]Kuhrasch, August,                 “
  Kraus, Frank,                    Hamden.
  Knecht, John,                    New-Haven.
  Kessel, John,                        “
  Kramer, Jacob,                       “
  Klein, Ernst,                        “
  Lange, Carl,                         “
  Lacombe, Arthur,                     “
  Miller, Joseph A.,                   “
  [B]Miller, Frederick,                “
  Miller, Carl C.,                     “
  [B]Munzing, Martin,                  “
  Marazin, Emmanuel,                   “
  Michou, August,                      “
  [B]Meyer, Henry,                     “
  Mai, August,                         “
  Otto, Emil,                          “
  [B]Pfleger, Ferdinand,               “
  Reuthe, Ernst,                       “
  [B]Rutz, Adam,                       “
  [B]Richter, August,                  “
  Reinhart, John,                      “
  Ridel, Joseph,                       “
  Rohrbeck, Albert,                    “
  [B]Strobel, Constantine,             “
  Schmidt, John,                       “
  Schmidt, Joseph,                     “
  [B]Schaffner, John,                  “
  [B]Schmidt, Charles,                 “
  Sievert, Frederick,                  “
  Somers, Cyrus,                       “
  Schenck, Paul,                   Branford.
  Timm, Henry C.,                  New-Haven.
  [B]Thesing, Frederick,               “
  [B]Urban, Rudolph,                   “
  [B]Vander Brake, Wm.,            Hamden.
  Victor, Jean,                    New-Haven.
  Welch, Martin,                       “
  Werner, Albert,                      “

[B] Taken prisoner at Chancellorsville.




  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
  the text and consultation of external sources.

  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained: for example,
  reënforcements, reinforcements; roadside, road-side; inclosure;
  superadded; intrenching; careered.

  Pg 67: ‘to ear our flag’ replaced by ‘to bear our flag’.
  Pg 80: ‘while the cannoniers’ replaced by ‘while the cannoneers’.
  Pg 115 et seq.: in these tables, which were very wide in the original
          book, the ‘REMARKS.’ column has been moved under the ‘NAMES.’
          column to make a multiline entry for each name.
  Pg 116: in this table, the comma after ‘Wallingford’ has been
          omitted to fit the name in the cell space.





End of Project Gutenberg's The "Twenty-Seventh", by Winthrop D. Sheldon