USA > Connecticut > Litchfield County > Woodbury > History of ancient Woodbury, Connecticut : from the first Indian dead in 1659 to 1872, Vol. II > Part 35
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"Nov. 3d, 1862. Last night we had the first death in the regi- ment, and it has made us all sad. I have been up to the tent where the body lies, previous to embalming. He looks peacefully at rest, and my tears fall more for his friends than for him. He was a young Lyman, from Goshen, and only about 18 years of age. They report another death this morning. We hope Gen. Slough will see the bad result of giving this regiment such hard work to perform, and will, in a measure, release the strain upon the poor fellows, who have been on duty ten days and nights in succession.
" This region is furroughed with graves. Fairfax Seminary- 1 Vaills' Hist.
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how a hospital, and a most beautiful building-is just opposite us, beyond a ravine. Almost everywhere around, a little apart from the road, I can see the tell-tale mounds, without headmarks, where some poor fellow has been tucked away. Oh! horrid, horrid War! In the old burial grounds, in amongst many a family group, one sees a nameless grave, new made, shallow dng, in which some Northern soldier has been laid. But how long will his bones re- main there untouched ? Will they not, at a later day, be rudely ejected to make room for some returning, rightful owner ? Will they not be scornfully thrown aside as the remains of a " Cursed Yankee." I cannot bear to think that the time may come when unhallowed revenge shall be taken upon the dead, and our best Northern blood have served only to enrich this vile, Virginia soil.
The first death that occurred in our Woodbury Company I, was that of Corporal John L. White, on the 13th of November, 1862, and the second, that of James C. Polley, on the 19th. The sickness and death of the latter, is thus alluded to in Mrs. Smith's Diary :-
" ALEXANDRIA, Dec. 5, 1862.
"Two days before I was taken sick, Mr. Polley came to see me. ooking so well ;- but while I was in bed, he sickened, and I found him, when I got out, in hospital, sick with typhoid fever. He was very glad to see me. I talked with him awhile, and urged him to bat. The difficulty with this fever, in the commencement is, the absolute loathing one has for food. Mr. Polley said he could eat, if would make him some chicken tea. So I sent all over town for a chicken, and finally, the servant returned with a nice, tender one. made it into an absolute jelly, thickened it with isinglass, and ook it over just at tea-time. It was early morning when I had promised it to him, and he had refused all food till I came. Hav- ing but one hand, I could not feed him, but the nurse did, and he smacked his lips and said, ' Oh, splendid, I can eat it all.' But he soon wanted to rest, and then insisted it should be put under his bed, for fear some one should get it. And so, for several days I visited him, carrying him almost all he eat, and standing by him. counted so many swallows at a time, for he would always eat for ne, and always knew me, till the last. Two days before he died, went over to see him, and my heart sunk. There was that fatal Irop of jaw, and that look of the eye, as if it were piercing dist-
24
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ance. I have learned, alas ! to know the death-mark, unerringly ! It did not seem as if we could let him die-he was so patient- every one was interested in him. All the officers and men and nurses, clung to the idea that he would rally, and so we all hoped. But he was sinking beyond our reach. I asked him if I should not write to his family. He said yes. I asked him what I should write. The fever was very high upon him then, and, as I fanned the flies off his face and pushed his hair away, he looked up in my face, wanderingly. It was but for a moment, and then he smiled, and said :- " Oh, Mrs. Smith, write to my family as you think best for them and me. Your judgment will judge for me bet- ter than my judgment could judge." That night I got Mrs Kel- logg to write to Mrs. Polley, at my dictation, but my letter must have been preceded by the sad telegram of his death. The night before he died, I took him eggs, beat up in whiskey and sugar, and though he did not want to take it, he did, when I asked him to take it for his family. It was very strong, and he looked at me with a smile, and said, "Is this food ?" I took his poor, hot hand in my cool one, and held it for a few moments, said a few words of cheer and comfort from a Source which he knew well, and left him, feeling in my heart, that ere dawn he would be at rest. About six o'clock, the same morning, he prayed in a strong. clear voice, so that they heard him all over the hospital, and in a few moments, without a struggle, he had gone home ! They sen: me word as soon as I was up, and geting some white chrysanthn mous, and beautiful box, from a neighbor, I made a cross and bou quet, and when he was ready, they came for me to place then upon his body. He looked so calm, and so utterly at peace, that except for his wife and little children, I had no tears. We places the cross in his hands, and the bouquet on his feet, and then h was slowly borne away to the town, to be embalmed, the Mason bearing all the expense."
A few days later is recorded the following picture of the Cor valescent Camp, which was at that time a disgrace to humanit and a shame to the nation, that was pouring forth its treasure: like water, to sustain the war!
" It is fearfully cold to-day. We have had quite a heavy fall snow, and the wind blows piercingly. It was a bitter nigh though we were perfectly comfortable : but we lay awake a lon while thinking of the poor convalescents above us, and of or
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brave fellows at the front. There must be a vast amount of suf- fering among them, for they have nothing but shelter tents and a blanket to protect them against the blast. There is one poor cripple in the Convalescent Camp, who comes on crutches up the hill, and while hanging on one, he works away at the old stumps, from which he gets a few miserable splinters. Day before yester- day I saw a thin, shadowy man, with a remnant of an old blanket, painfully gleaning chips into it, where others stronger, or smarter than he, had chopped up whole trees. I said to him, 'are you going to have a good fire ?' ' Yes 'm,' said he, and his teeth chat- tered .- ' I am so very cold.' A mile, and even two miles out, you may see exhausted beings staggering home with armsfull of twiggs, and this morning the guard found, on the edge of our camp, above, a man clinging to a precious faggot, but dead !- fro- zen to death ! His fire on earth was never lighted. His own lamp of life went out in the effort. But Heaven grant that that poor sufferer shall be among the 'comforted ' hereafter. I cannot express too strongly my horror of the institution called the Con- valescent Camp. Men who have been sent from the hospitals to join their regiments, have been left to rot in this camp, where dirt, disease and lice, abound! They are allowed to freeze to death, while fat secessionists have Union guards to protect their trees and fences ! As I write, the sun is setting, and in the dread of a long and freezing night, men almost frenzied with cold, are working away at old roots on the hill. So far they have respect- ed, the wooden head-boards of the grave-yard, but the bits they are painfully cutting are covered with frozen snow, and I have seen them look longingly at the seasoned pine over the graves. I have no right to carry them some sticks from here. The whole Convalescent Camp would be down upon us; but, as I sit here by a warm fire, with a heart aching for those poor fellows, that same heart keeps up a reproachful refrain- Inasmuch as ye have not done it unto others ye have not done it unto me.'-Oh, you at home with warm houses and bright lights and glowing fires, think, this fearful weather, of those who have nothing but a frail canvas> between them and the freezing night air."
The following is a graceful tribute to Colonel Kellogg :
"Colonel Kellogg, though very rough, is one of the softest hearted men I ever saw. He is a great traveler, and a man of
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wonderful information, while his powers of description are rare. His men are attached to him, and respect him, and those who see him as I do, kind-hearted, full of sympathy for the sick, and with tears in his eyes at the sight of suffering he cannot alleviate, know, that in spite of rough words and looks, he is a good man, as well as a strict disciplinarian and soldier.
" Again at the hospital. I fear we have two more doomed ones in there. One man, who is deranged, requested yesterday, that if he died, his body should be sent home. That is the last cry of all these poor fellows. Send me home! Don't bury me in this horrid land of traitors and secession ! Send me home to the old grave- yard, with its mossy stones and its drooping trees, the resting place of generations of ancestors and remembered loved ones- Send me home ! Send me home !"
" Dec. 22, 1862. I did. not sleep much last night, from some reason or other. But the nights do not seem long. Every two hours the relief comes along, and I hear the challenge and the change of sentinels-then, at midnight, the grand rounds. Then I can hear variously tuned snores, and oh ! the coughs! The va- riety and the number are astonishing. There is the surface rack, and the cavernous-the throaty gag and the wrenching-the-la- bored and the catarrhal, the near, the distant, and the dreary, dry cough, which tells that consumption is nigh at hand. Sometimes, too, I have heard from the street tents the home-sick out-cry of some poor fellow, who has been the mother-boy at home, and bitter cold nights I could have shed tears, too, for 'those I left behind me.' Alas ! alas ! for a soldier's life. The old song that it is full of joy, may do well enough for the 'piping times of peace,' but in days of war, and intestine war too, the song is a mocking lie."
The next extract from the ' diary,' which will be given, is the touching account of the sickness and death of Corporal, or rather 2d Lient. Frederick Whitlock. Though in chronological order this would belong in the place allotted to the events of the early days of 1863, yet in the grouping of incidents, it comes in more properly here.
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Whitlock was always, though younger in years, one of the au- thor's most considerate, firm, and faithful friends. Indeed, that was his nature. He was true, genial and faithful to all. His countenance and his life were ever sunny. It is with a full heart that the writer records his virtues on this memorial page.
As has been seen, immediately after the disastrous battles of the "Seven Days in the Wilderness," under the leadership of Mc- Clellan, the President called for 300,000 vol- unteers. As an inducement to earnest recruiting, Gov. Bucking- ham ordered, that every suitable candidate who should enlist forty men, should receive a 2d Lieutenant's Commission. Under this provision, Whitlock procured enlistment papers from the Adjutant General, and opened a recruiting office in Woodbury. But learn- ing that Mr. Eli Sperry, who afterwards became Captain of our Co. I, had also obtained papers for the same purpose of obtaining a commission. which bore date a day or two earlier, and believing that it would be highly detrimental to the cause of enlistments, if two opposing offices should be kept open in our small, rural com- munity, with a most praise worthy patriotism he closed his office, returned his papers, repaired to New Haven, enlisted the 15th of August, 1862, and was mustered in as a private, in Co. F, of the 20th regiment. He was very soon promoted Corporal and Ser- geant, for faithful service. But his ambition led him to undertake to do too much. The 20th regiment was called upon to do heavy marching, the latter part of the year, and being determined to do the work of the strongest, he fell sick, and was sent to Trinity General Hospital, at Washington. The writer had been in recent correspondence with him. Whitlock knew that he expected to visit the camps in a few days, and had arranged for a meeting. He had important matters which he said he wished to submit to him, expressing the greatest solicitude to see him. The writer de- sired, on his part, to see him, and accomplish his wishes, if possible. He accordingly went to Washington, but on account of a general or- der, promulgated the very day of his arrival, he was unable to get a pass to go any further than the "Defences of Washington aud Alexandria." Whitlock, meanwhile, was with his regiment at Fair- fax Court-House. It turned out in the sequel, that he was carried through Alexandria, sick, to Washington, the very day the writer
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was there, seeking a pass to go to him. After a visit to the sol- diers in the camp, he returned to Washington, and was there till the day Whitlock died, almost within a stone's throw of him, but was unaware of his presence in the city, and returned home in ignorance of it. The writer has never ceased to regret, that while each sought the other with such perseverance, they could not have met, and that the poor sufferer's dying hours could not have been soothed by his life-long friend. It would have been a great privilege to have been permitted to do something to allevi- ate the pains of such a friend, while passing " over the dark river." But the secret he so much desired to impart died with him. We may fondly hope that so great, so kind, so good a heart, has found nobler employment beyond the portals of death.
There was another sad circumstance in his death at this time. He had so well fulfilled his duties as a soldier, that Gov. Bucking- ham granted him a commission as 2d Lieutenant, and the commis- sion reached him while in a state of insensibility, too late for him to know that his ambition had been gratified, and his merit reward- ed. He died Jan. 24, 1863. His body was embalmed, sent to New York, and buried in Greenwood Cemetery.
Two extracts from Mrs. Smith's " diary " follow :-
"FRED. WHITLOCK .- 6th Jan., 1863. I have been much amused to-day, by the account that Lieut. Col. Wooster, of the 20th C. V., has given us of Corporal Whitlock. He says he is all energy and spunk, determined to keep up with the biggest and burliest soldiers, and die game, if he dies at all. The regiment has been, from the outset, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather, never having remained stationary in any ony one place long enough to make themselves comfortable, and unprovided with other than the shelter tent. They have been continually on long, forced marches, sometimes for several days together, and Fred. has reso- lutely kept up with the best of them, refusing to lighten his knap- sack or even to put his baggage into one of the regimental wagons, as the Colonel told him to do. He seems to be a great favorite and a good soldier. Colonel Wooster spoke of him with great friendliness and kindness."
" January 25th, 1863.
" My heart aches with bitter pain and my eyes overflow. Poor Fred. Whitlock is dead-dead in the hospital at Washington, and
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no one to care for his body, or communicate with his friends, but myself! The last time I saw him, he, my husband and myself ex- changed good-byes at Southbury ; Fred., full of enthusiasm and military zeal. The next I heard of him was through Lient. Col. Wooster, of the 20th C. V. Day before yesterday I received a large envelope, franked by a member of Congress, and addressed to me at Fort Barnard. The note enclosed proved to be from Fred., telling me he had been taken to Trinity General Hospital, at Washington, sick with bilious fever, and asking me to send word to Walter, (his brother, of the 1st Conn. Heavy Artillery.) He wrote me that he was in need of clothes, and to ask Walter to bring some for him. Fort Barnard, where Walter is, is three miles from here, and it was impossible to send that night. I sent for Dr. Lawton, who was previously surgeon of the 20th, and the one who examined and passed Fred., and who, supposing at that time he should remain in the 20th, could discharge Fred. later, if he felt unable to continue! Most fortunately, the doctor was going to Washington in the morning, (yesterday,) and I gave him Fred's address, and a note for him, and he promised to go and see him. The weather was such that I could not get out, as we have no con- veyance here now, except our feet, or I should have gone with Dr. Lawton myself, and seen what I could do. Just as we were pre- paring to send our Orderly to Fort Barnard, Walter came in, and I told him about Fred., and that he had better return immediately, and spend the afternoon in getting a pass for Washington-a long job now, as it has to go through so many hands before completion. Last evening Dr. Lawton returned, with the most unexpected in- formation, that he found Fred. in the Dead House !- the poor fel- low had died that morning ! They told the doctor that he had been brought there on the 18th, and had been unconscious almost ever since he had been there, only rallying long enough to ask to have one letter written to a lady. He died easily and unconsciously, but the doctor tells me he was so emaciated, he should not have known him. His letter was dated the 19th, and I did not receive it till the 28d. Had it been simply stamped, I should, probably, have got it in season to have gone to Washington. I cannot con- ceive the cause of its delay. At day-light this morning, we sent an Orderly over to Walter with a note from me, telling him the sad news, and hurrying him to Washington. Dr. Lawton told them at the Hospital not to bury poor Fred. to day, but to wait
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until they heard from me. I telegraphed to his brother, Duncan, last night, and have also requested that Fred. be kept above ground until to-morrow. At eleven this morning, poor Walter, pale, with his eyes swollen by weeping, came and told me he had been waiting since early morning to get his pass signed by Gen. Tyler, who was asleep and no one dared to wake him! Poor fel- low ! his spirit seemed utterly broken, and in his utter loneliness I deeply sympathized with him. The sisterly sympathy did him good, and he left me feeling a little more courage and strength. I have written to his sister, Eliza, and told the story as gently as I could, but I could not modify the dispatch, which stated " Your brother Fred. is dead. Have ordered embalining-come immedi- ately." How little did I ever suppose that when the last came, I should be the means of saving the 'Little Corporal' from a Hos- pital grave, and be the only link between him and his friends at home. Oh! if I could have received his last letter soon enough for me to have gone to him, that I might have gathered some final words for his mother, his sister, and brothers-some last thoughts for his 'loved ones at home!' When Walter reached the Hospi- tal, he found that the body had just been carried away to the 'Sol- dier Rest,' about five miles from Washington, and the poor fellow started after it. He reached there just five minutes sooner than the hearse, and was enabled to take his brother's remains back with him, and commit them to the care of the embalmer, who would forward them to New York.
" HARVEY H. FOX's DEATH .- Feb. Ist, 1863. I went over this morning to the hospital, and was shocked at finding Harvey H. Fox at death's door. I had seen him on guard two days before, and spoken to him, and thought then, the man looked miserably. When he saw me come up to his bedside, he held out his hand, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. I saw the same fatal symp- toms that I have learned to know so well, and, even then, I felt that no earthly power could avail anything. Oh! all of you at home! Can you imagine what it is to see so many lying down to die-to bid so many good-bye !
Feb. 4th .- Poor Fox died this morning. I went over as early as I could, but he was dead before I reached the Hospital. He
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knew he must die, and did not murmur, but he did mourn that his wife could not come to him. He looks very calm, and died very quietly. The touch of the mighty Angel of Death has mod- ified and ameliorated the harsh lines of his face, and his poor, be- reaved wife and family will have a last look at his still, manful countenance, when the body, which his company have had embalm- ed, reaches Woodbury."
These sad recitals give us mournful, but living pictures of the sad scenes of sickness and death, on the malarious " old Camp Ground " at Alexandria.
On the 28th of December, 1862, the regiment had a specimen of the emotions they would experience on their first call to battle, and that sort of contest most dreaded by soldiers-a night attack, when one is not sure of distinguishing friend from foe. It is fully described in the following extract :-
" ALEXANDRIA, Dec. 20, 1862.
" Last evening, about six o'clock, Colonel Kellogg came in to say that Capt. Rice, who commanded our pickets and patrol in town, had sent word that the Stuart cavalry were within seven or eight miles of us, and evidently about to make a raid into this immense depot of army stores. If true, the 19th would be called into action-if not true, it would do no harm to be found watch. ing. My husband immediately told me that I must go over to the tavern, and Mrs. Colonel Kellogg received like orders. Without waiting for any thing but to gather one or two precious objects, bidding our husbands a God-speed, and a good-night, we left the camp. We considered the reports exaggerated, and did not feel very great apprehension of an attack, but we heard so much worse things at the secession tavern, that we got thoroughly alarmed. The family is kind, and likes the trust-worthy, gentlemanly sol- diers of the 19th, and we knew we were safe enough there for the present. though had we had time, we should have gone up to Washington. As it was, however, the Colonel and Major felt a sense of comfort in our location, and we were glad to be near them. About ten o'clock we retired-five of us in one room-Mrs. Kellogg's little boy, and the daughters of the house-Union and rebel-making common cause, and utterly forgetting differences, or dislikes. Mrs. Kellogg and I took a bed near a window overlook- ing the road, and part of our camp, and while we talked, the rest
.
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all fell soundly asleep, and absolute stillness came over all sur- roundings. Abont eleven o'clock, our listening ears were struck by a stealthy, but steady and stern tramp, and, springing to the window, we saw the 19th drawing up in battle line just across the road, to the right! They were going to fight, then, our brave boys! Going out under the bright moonlight to risk their lives for their country ! Marching out to meet an enemy 8,000 strong. It was to be the same old story of a few sent against the many- of sacrifice, blood-shed, and, probable defeat. We knew by the splendid, silent march of our men with their glittering muskets, that the enemy would meet with no timid, or straggling foe, but as Colonel Kellogg said, that ' the 19th would make some pretty bad sores before it got through !' Still, our position was one of agony, for beneath our window stretched that glittering line, and we could hear the dear, well-known voices of our husbands, ring- ing their commands through the clear moonlight air. Promptly, silently, grimly did our noble regiment stand ready for whatever might be its fate, and still the child and the two girls slept placidly on, and one of the kittens, a favorite of mine, stole up into my lap, purring cozily. By this time I was up and dressed, and as the moonlight brightened, and the shadows deepened, every stump on Shuter's Hill, and every break in the ground filled our straining eyes with pictures of approaching rebels, or friends and reënforce- ments. Presently, the 19th marched to the brow of the hill, and the men lay down upon their arms. Then, later they returned to camp, and, on their arms again lay down. But not for a long time. Five mounted soldiers dashed into camp, and in two min- utes the Adjutant's cry of 'Fall in ' was heard, and in a moment more, the men turned out, formed, and without a word, without bugle-note or drum-beat, they marched down the road, and we saw our husbands and our regiment disappear in the moonlit dis- tance. Then, for a moment-only for a moment-we broke down. And still the little boy slept peacefully, the girls were quiet, and pussy purred cosily on my knee.
Then, in the camp of the 153d New York, all was stir, bustle, and confusion. They received notification at the same time our regiment did, but with their usnal green, unsoldierly performances, they drummed, and tooted, and shouted, and beat the long-roll of alarm, so familiar to me in the French . rappel,' of insurrectionary memory. Four hours later than the 19th, they marched by the house in full rig-officers all mounted-every one of ours afoot-
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