USA > Connecticut > The story of the Twenty-first Regiment, Connecticut Volunteer Infantry, during the Civil War. 1861-1865 > Part 24
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
weak and exhausted, they halted just at the foot of the slope and partially under cover, to rest and reform.
But our work was not yet done. And after a short pause, with one fierce shout, and more determined effort, they dashed through the leaden rain waiting to receive them, on to victory. The day was won. And the emblem of liberty waved over the stronghold of rebellion. Although the greater part of the regiment were nobly doing their duty at another portion of the line, yet the three small companies with the assaulting column, proved themselves veterans. And while all did well, yet a few deserve special mention for their devotion to their colors, which they closely followed into the fort and proudly unfurled to the breeze.
Among the first, then, Corporal Howard Camp, of Com- pany I, although severely wounded before reaching the sum- mit, stood by the flag he carried till safely transferred to Corporal Rix, of Company G, who bore it on, till, just as we were scaling the parapet, he, too, was wounded, but careful to see it again safe in other hands. Lieutenant, now Captain E. P. Packer, of Company G. while gallantly leading his division in the charge, was seriously wounded in the head by a frag- ment of shell, and fell senseless a short distance from the fort.
Sergeant George P. Edwards, of Company A, received a serious wound in the arm just as he leaped over the parapet. And then a little band of nine rallied round the dear old flag in the moment of victory. Curtis, of Company C; Coon, Wilcox, Tucker, and Colgrove, of Company G; Maynard and Fardon, of Company I, and Rouse, of Company K, were the first inside the fort. A gallant color guard and worthy of their colors !
But little more remains to relate. The regiment was not again engaged during the day, though subjected all the after- noon to a terrific shelling from the enemy's gunboats, which had been brought to bear upon our line, in the course of which several men were slightly wounded. But night stopped the mouths of the dogs of war, and we went busily to work
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Bermuda Hundred.
reversing the enemy's entrenchments. Just at dark, however, in withdrawing from an advanced position on the left, to our main line, the enemy made a sudden dash upon us, capturing some prisoners and materially accelerating our speed towards the main body, by a severe fire of musketry in our rear. And here again we are called upon to shed a tear over the death wound of another gallant officer, Captain H. R. Jen- nings, of Company E. A fatal ball crashed through his lung, and after weeks of what we thought a slow recovery, he, too, lay a still, white sacrifice upon the altar of his country. But his memory we shall ever cherish.
Surely we are doing our part in this war. On every field some noble form is laid.
ENCAMPMENT OF UNITED STATES TROOPS, AT NEWPORT NEWS, VA.
An extract from a private letter to the wife of the late Captain Henry R. Jennings, of the Twenty-first Connecticut Volunteers, from an officer high in rank and belonging to another State, contains the following eulogy upon the conduct of the gallant Twenty-first, upon several occasions, of which he was an eye witness, and which is worthy of the regiment. It reads thus :
" Great has been your sacrifice in the noble cause of our country. Brave, noble, patriotic, and able as your husband was,
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
he was an honor to even his magnificent regiment. When I have seen the gallant Twenty-first Connecticut Regiment in battle, I have, as an American, felt proud of them. A noble regiment, it has a splendid record. Never shall I forget their splendid behavior on that terrible 16th of May last, when the field at Drewry's Bluff was covered with from eight to ten thousand killed and wounded men of both armies, and the Twenty-first stood firm and fearless, in the terrible shock of that fearful charge, and repulsed it on their front. Many times in the heat of that conflict, I looked towards the Twenty-first, fearful that I should see them overwhelmed. They did their noble State immortal honor that day, as they have in every battle in which they have been engaged, and acquitted themselves with credit.
"September 29th, at Chapin's Farm, they performed distin- guished services in the brilliant charge that captured those sixteen cannon and the enemy's line of works.
" It is a very honorable distinction to any one to have belonged to that faithful regiment."
When the meed of praise is thus bestowed by those so entirely disinterested, we may be sure it has been fairly won.
AN ALL DAY'S MARCH.
35 1
Poem on the Battle of Drewry's Bluff.
THE BATTLE OF DREWRY'S BLUFF.
MAY 16, IS64.
[Extract from a poem by Rev. Theron Brown, Norwood, Mass., read at the reunion of the Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers, at Willimantic, May 14, 18So.]
Wet with the tears of the sky, and wet with the breath of the river, Wet with the drench of the swamps where they tramped thro' the horrible ooze,
Wet to the skin, thro' the creeks they had waded with feverish shiver,
And miles of the mud of old Chester stuck waxy and wet to their shoes.
Satire of Sabbath day rest ! No church bell rung them to meeting; Never a prayer that Sunday they heard, nor sermon, nor psalin, Only the shout of the captain and nearer and nearer repeating,
Random shots of the skirmishers, sounding the battle alarm.
Tired to the heart of their strength with plodding o'er low land and high land,
Silent they halted at night on the dark wooded bluff of the James ;
Sodden and soaked and fireless, no bed nor a meter of dry land To lie on and nibble their hardtack, while waiting the calling their names.
Camped in the hurry of danger, they crouched on their guns till the morning,
Under the drip of the trees in the mist that smothered the shore, Drowsing with heavy eyes, but ears awake to the warning
Crashed from the picket rifles in front of the old Tenth Corps.
Half-past four in the dawn. Hark ! the big wardogs are snarling ! That was the bark of a howitzer-that was the shriek of a shell ; To your feet, every man of you ! up! They are sallying out of Fort Darling,
And Heckman's banners are bent with the wind of the rebel yell.
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
Louder !- and fiery and short was the tug of the true and the traitor ;
Brave men broke on the right where the battle was sudden and sore,
Where the foe swarmed out of the fog like fiends from the neck of a crater,
And blue met gray in the forest and mingled in blood on the shore.
Down like a whirlwind they came, and the cannon are silent that faced them.
Where are the New York squadrons ? and where are the cohorts of Maine ?
Down on the bold Twenty-first in the trenches where duty had placed them,
Alone of a host that with valor had battle for glory in vain.
Did they run-that Connecticut thousand ? Did they cower like game to be eaten,
Left with one wing in the air, forlorn in the sweep of the fray ? No; lads of tough Yankee metal, they didn't know they were beaten ;
And Johnnies come never so many, they stood like a wall in the way.
" Steady !" cries Burpee ; and ghastly with gore and grimy with powder,
Breasting that tempest of death, they darted their volleys of fire,
All thro' the murk of the morn, while the terror grew thicker and louder,
They stayed there determined to fight or sink in their tracks in the mire.
See ! gallant Stanton is struck ! On the right brave Shepard is bleeding !
And the foe in the might of their numbers surge on like the surge of the sea,
Slaughtered, but still three to one, o'er their fallen they trample unheeding,
And rage at the handful of Spartans who never surrender or flee.
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Poem on the Battle of Drewry's Bluff.
And there grand old Chaplain Brown, now swift from the caissons springing,
Rushes with rations of cartridge, feeding the patriots' guns ; Now by the wounded and dying kneels down where the bullets are singing,
Faithful to fight for his country or pray for the souls of her sons.
Veteran of two wars ; since the last campaign on the border,
When Dearborn and Hampton led, and Jackson and "Tippe- canoe,"
Grown gray a soldier of God, the Union found him in order
For work with his boys at the front with a sword and a Bible, too.
Blotted and blear came the sunrise. The clouds that dammed up the daylight,
Rolled with the smoke of the battle over the bold little band ; And under that horror whose shade made winter gloom of the May light,
The rebels have crushed on their flank ! They are heroes, but how can they stand ?
" Front to rear on the center !" They bent like a door on its hinges,
Sternly in serried square, two-faced to the terrible strain,
Like Cesar's "elbow of battle" when trapped by the naked Tulinges,
And pushed by the wild old Swiss on the hills at the springs of the Seine.
Eight o'clock ! Will the fight never cease ? Will it turn to a slaughter,
Where that pale regiment struggles ? How long must they struggle alone,
Ironting a whole brigade-in blood and brimstone and water- No shout of relief from behind, no trumpet to rally them blown.
Only an orderly rode on the scene, peering at them and round them,
German, with spectacled nose, and cried as he cantered away,
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
" Brace up, boys! Hold them back ! In a minute old Gilmore will pound them.
The rebels will turn on their tracks, and leave you the field and the day."
Still round the grim little troop rolled the war flood, swelling in fury,
And still in the search of death they gallantly held their ground ; And hot upon flesh and bone that hour of the field of old Drewry
Blistered its story of terror in many a weeping wound.
Madly they fought-but they listened in vain for the sign of assistance ;
Nine o'clock -- but no breeze from the left brings the burst of a cheer,
Cannon roar from the Court House, nor battle-cry in the distance, Nor charge of the Tenth up the railroad, crowding the foe to the rear.
Bravo ! They strove to the last ; but their muskets are foul with their firing,
They are fewer by ten times ten than they were when the combat began.
Gone are their cartridges too-gone where, never think of inquir- ing ;
They have given them away to the graybacks, a hundred rounds to a man.
Out of the useless carnage our heroes fell back at the order,
Sullen, as back from their trenches fell Bunker Hill's powderless guard,
Out of the woods ; and the Johnnies, well quit of them, stop at the border,
Too glad of their riddance to follow the fighters who hit them so hard.
Out of the woods; but only for breath they halt in the meadow ;
Stored with fresh ammunition and re-enforced for the fray,
They dash to their terrible work again in the thicket and shadow, And hold the field, till the head of the army commands thein away.
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Sketch of Chaplain Thomas G. Brown.
Woe for the fate of that day, the battle where " somebody blun- dered,"
Woe for the charge on the left when Gilmore had word to retire ! And woe for the pride of the brave, who bitterly murmured and wondered.
.Thousands retreating unbeaten and scarcely smelling of fire.
But oh, when you talk of Richmond and tell of its battle-scarred region,
The roads and the woods, and the river below it, remember to say How stood the gallant and stanch Twenty-first Connecticut legion Three hours in the death-gap at Drewry on the fatal 16th of May.
SKETCH OF CHAPLAIN THOMAS G. BROWN.
Rev. Thomas Gibson Brown was commissioned as Chaplain of the Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers, April 23, 1863, being at that time sixty-four years of age. The writer of this sketch well remembers the impression many members of the regi- ment had of him when he joined us. " Why is so old a man sent to us?" was the query, and " what good can he do?" Quiet, unassuming, yet active, obedient, and responsive to every call of duty, mindful of the welfare of every man, unselfish, no hardship too great, no weariness of his would at any time prevent his doing all that was possible for the physical, as well as the spiritual, well- being of even the most humble man in the regiment.
Time past, many learned to love him for himself, and his practical Christianity. His experience as a Methodist preacher, belonging to the New England Conference, had taught him how to reach and influence men, and to gain their respect.
The 16th of May, 1864, found the regiment at Drewry's Bluff, engaged in battle against fearful odds, and Chaplain Brown was with us, not at the rear, but on the front line where shot and shell were flying, ministering to the wounded and dying, wounded him-
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self but staying at what he thought was his post of duty, until the regiment was ordered to fall back. On seeing him the next day, I said to him, " Why, Chaplain, are you wounded?" " Oh ! that is nothing, just a scratch," was his reply. Then we found that the old man, our Chaplain, was a hero, and he had the love of every one of us. No one dared say a slighting word of Chaplain Brown in the presence of a member of the Twenty-first, after that.
This is his record -- one of deeds, not words-and how we loved him. He was our father, we his boys, as he loved to call us in after years.
His father, an only son, was a soldier of the Revolutionary War. Three of his brothers served in the War of 1812, and he enlisted near the close of that war, but saw no active service. His three sons and a son-in-law, all the male members of his family, served in the War of the Rebellion ; the oldest, Henry B. Brown, as Pay- master in the navy, the youngest, E. Plummer Brown, as Pay- master's Clerk, the other son, Delos D. Brown, as Captain in the Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers, and the son-in-law, F. W. H. Buell, as Lieutenant in the Twenty-first Regiment Con- necticut Volunteers, dying while in the service at Chapin's Farm, Va. E. Plummer Brown died soon after the war.
March 12, 1885, twenty years after the close of the Civil War, Chaplain Brown died, and on Good Friday of that year many of his comrades of the regiment gathered at his funeral, and with sor- row and sincere affection followed his body to the tomb.
His memory is still with us, and his benign countenance, his sturdy form, his pleasant words, his cheerful smile, as he met with us at our yearly reunions, are a recollection always with us, and the influence of his service and life is a heritage which will always be ours.
He enjoyed attending the regiment's reunions and was always present. On one occasion he was presented with a cane, and in his reply to the presentation speech of Sergeant Hill, he said, " I don't see what I have ever done that you boys should love me so."
There were brave men in our regiment and faithful, but it is rare that any officer has been able to bring to himself the love, confidence and esteem of all, as did Chaplain Brown.
His epitaph, written in the hearts of his comrades, is " Duty and Love."
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Operations.
CHAPTER XXI
OPERATIONS.
(Fall of 1864.)
The occupation of Fort Harrison, or Fort Burnham as it was subsequently named, in honor of the gallant leader of the Second Brigade, who there lost his life, was followed next day, September 30th, by a desperate attempt on the part of the rebels to retake the position. For this purpose a division of fresh troops was ordered up from Lee's army at Peters- burg, and scarcely had we completed a temporary breast- work, before the enemy charged upon us with the utmost fury, in three separate columns. One of them struck for the right of our brigade line, and not being just then engaged, the Twenty-first was enabled to pour a galling fire into their flank, and materially assisted in their terrible repulse with heavy loss, though our men only dropped their picks and spades, and grasped their muskets just as the enemy came in view. Shortly after, another column, consisting of a brigade, charged directly upon our own front. But we were ready for them, and no sooner were they within easy range, than they received a most withering fire, as from rank to rank, volley followed volley in quick succession. Still on came that gallant band, though many bit the dust at each discharge.
Their pluck was worthy of a better cause. And as they swept down the opposite slope on the double quick, till
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
within fifty yards of our works, it looked for a moment as though they would surely reach us. But the most invincible courage could not stand such a fire as our brave boys poured into them. And the next tremendous volley caused them,
----
MUSICIAN JOHN BOILES.
like a certain Dutchman well known to some of our readers, to " change their minds ;" and more quickly than I can write it, a portion of the column faced about, and engaged in the " pursuit of happiness," at a much higher velocity than that illustrious seeker of the same, "Captain Bob Shorty."
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Operations.
The remainder of the column dropped to the ground and took shelter behind the bushes, and anything they could find, unable to retreat or advance. Here and there a dirty hand- kerchief raised above the bushes, indicated the owner's desire to surrender. Then the order, " cease firing," was given, and the air resounded with "come in, Johnnies, come in," of which invitation a large number took advantage, and found refuge and safety behind the works of the "detested Yankees."
Our picket line was quickly re-established, and being sent out by the flank, completely surrounded those who had not already given themselves up, and gathered them in. Nearly two hundred were thus secured, while the ground in our front was thickly strewn with killed and wounded. It was a sad day's work for the Johnnies, and they evidently thought so, for they made no further attempt to drive us out. As we fought behind breastworks, our losses were comparatively light. Yet a number received honorable scars, though but one was mortally wounded. The regiment here, as every- where, did honor to its native State. I think the men never fought with more enthusiasm.
The remembrance of so many bloody fields where the enemy, protected by heavy works, had us almost at their mercy, was in every mind. And nobly did Connecticut's brave sons revenge themselves. Where all did their duty, it is hard to discriminate. Lieutenant William S. Hubbell, how- ever, of North Stonington, and Acting Assistant Adjutant- General of the brigade, was here conspicuous for gallantry, and disregarding the numerous bits of cold lead flying about so freely, was so unfortunate as to run into one of them, which quickly put him hors de combat. Although a very serions wound, and one which laid him up for several months, he is now with us again, and rejoicing in the cognomen of Captain, which promotion has been most justly bestowed.
The capture of Fort Burnham ended our summer work, and the hard service and continual exposure of the campaign
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
was followed by a most unusual season of rest and quiet, refreshing alike to officers and men. Comfortable winter quarters were built, and although the picket and fatigue duty was sometimes rather severe, the men on the whole seemed to enjoy themselves, and appeared bright and cheerful, and the camp rung with jest and laughter.
Those brave defenders of our country's flag, who fall in its defense, cannot be too highly honored, or too long remem- bered. Yet, it is with feelings of sadness that we think of the loss of our gallant officer, Captain Isaac D. Kenyon, of Company B, who was mortally wounded while at his post in the trenches before Petersburg, August 18, 1864. He most deservedly possessed the respect and esteem of his brother officers. Possessing a large fund of anecdote and pleasantry, he was ever the life of the circle around the bivouac fire, and always welcome in every tent. Nor was he less welcome on account of his personal worth. He was noble and generous- hearted; brave and unflinching in battle, prompt and ener- getic in the performance of duty. We miss his cheerful countenance and hearty jest. But he died a noble death, and his name is enshrined upon our memories as one of our country's heroes. One of his last wishes was that he might be buried in his military suit, and that his coffin should be wrapped in the American flag. "The flag for which he left his home and friends, and died defending."
After lingering for two weeks, he died at the Eighteenth Corps Hospital, September 1, 1864, attended by his wife and brother, who had been summoned to his side. His body was embalmed and taken to his home.
About the 28th of October, the regiment joined with the rest of the corps in a movement upon the enemy at Fair Oaks, but was not actively engaged, though for some time under a severe artillery fire. After a few weeks great prepa- rations were made for the approaching Christmas and New Year. The camp was beautifully trimmed with evergreens, the entrance of each street being graced with green arches,
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Operations.
the cedar boughs interspersed with red holly berries, ar- ranged in fantastic forms, and each tent was adorned accord- ing to the taste of its occupant, some of them presenting a fit subject for the artist's pencil.
I wish I might here record the arrival of the Christmas turkeys so liberally contributed by our friends at home, for the benefit of their soldier friends, fathers and brothers, in the field. We had been led to expect a perfect feast of good things ; but to our great disappointment, and to the shame of whoever was the cause of it, they failed to reach us. We had received word that a large box had been forwarded expressly for the Twenty-first, from Norwich. And our mouths were all made up for a good taste of mince pies, roast tarkeys, etc., etc., and as the day approached, frequent were the inquiries if the box had come. But no box came, and we were compelled to put up with our usual allowance of salt pork and hard tack. And I deem this a fitting oc- casion to state for the information of our friends, that not one- fourth of the contributions for the regiment as a regiment have ever been received. I am unable to state at present upon whom the blame should fall.
But should the eye of any concerned chance to fall upon this account, it is hoped that they will be careful to conceal all evidence against them, for, should they ever be discovered, their reputation will most decidedly suffer in this regiment. But, notwithstanding the loss of our Christmas dinner, the day, though wet and muddy, was given up to festivity. And when the chance is given, one need not fear that "the boys" will fail to make merry. The men were relieved from all duty not absolutely necessary, and " got upon their muscle," and a vast amount of laughter by their sack and hurdle races, greased poles, greased pigs, pursuit of wealth under diffi- culties, wrestling matches, etc., ending up with a mock dress parade. And Jack Falstaff's crew certainly never presented a more ludicrous appearance than these Christmas votaries in
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Twenty-first Regiment Connecticut Volunteers.
their improvised rags and costumes, and Christy himself could not surpass the paper collars here displayed.
If you ever have occasion to get up a " rag-shag" pro- cession in Connecticut, don't fail to call on the Twenty-first. Their ingenuity in the line of costumes cannot be surpassed. The band, as it marched down the line, each member play- ing a different tune, and the bass drummer occasionally mistaking (accidentally of course), the unsuspecting pate of his file leader for the drum, and the huge appendage, like a fish's tail protruding from under the coat tails of No. I, by his side, wagging in unmistakable approval, afforded infinite amusement to the crowd of spectators, although fearfully sug- gestive of a place called Bedlam.
Although it was a day of merriment long to be remeni- bered ; and if anyone retired that night without sore sides and an extra pound or two of flesh, it was not from lack of fun. New Year passed in a similar manner, and then followed another quiet spell.
The 4th of January was solemnly marked, however, by the sudden death of Lieutenant Frederick W. H. Buell, of Com- pany H, the result, it was supposed, of a congestive chill. He had been complaining but a few hours. Bullets are not always the death-messenger of the soldier. And the death of this young officer was a warning to us all that we are not free from the destroyer, merely because we are not on the field of battle.
ยท The calm and quiet, and monotony of the past winter, has suddenly been broken by events the most stupendous, yet the most welcome. The end has come. The blood of our fallen heroes is avenged. And now the crimson current has ceased to flow. Peace, with extended wings, hovers over our land. May she never more depart from us.
Although our gallant little regiment has not been actively engaged in the closing battles of the past grand campaign, still it has performed the part assigned to it with its usual credit. And if we have lost the glory of loosing half our
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