USA > New Hampshire > History of the Twelfth regiment, New Hampshire volunteers in the war of the rebellion > Part 39
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Our last duties as a military organization have been performed, and as we are about to separate, perhaps for time. we must say farewell.
As you have been faithful, brave, and true soldiers, I feel assured that you will be good and worthy citizens, and of your duties as such I will not venture a word, except an admonition that you will ever greet the bereaved friends of our comrades that we have buried in a distant land, or sent home to rest beneath their native sod, with kind words and helping hands.
Soldiers, I am proud of your record, and the highest honor that I ask is that, when the history of the Rebellion is written, my name may be recorded as the commander of the Twelfth New Hampshire Volunteers.
With kindest wishes for you in all your relations of life, and that Heaven's richest blessings may be shed upon you all, I bid you a kind and affectionate farewell.
THOMAS E. BARKER,
Col. 12th N. H. Vols.
CHAPTER XVI.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Though the previous chapter closed the military career of the Twelfth Regiment, so far as its marches, battles, and principal matters of record, while in the service, have furnished salient points along its historic line, yet there is much of interest that remains to be written before its history can be called complete, or within a near approach thereto, which is as much and more than can reasonably be expected.
And among the many subjects, incidents, and anecdotes that will be referred to and related in this and the succeeding chapter, some may be considered as reinforcements of the main line, already formed, while others more properly belong to the rear guard. And, without respect to their order in the column of review, this chapter, as indicated by the above engraving, will commence with a brief account of the origin and dedication of the regimental monument that now marks the spot where the Twelfth fought on the field of Gettysburg.
Encouraged by a gift of five hundred dollars from the State to aid every regiment or organization therefrom, that were engaged in the battle of Gettysburg, in erecting monuments on that ever memorable field to mark the places where all the sons of New Hampshire fought, the Second, Fifth, and Twelfth regiments and the Sharpshooters have erected memorials, shaped from the granite of their native hills, that will long stand to mark the places where they fought.
In 1887 the Twelfth Regiment Association chose a committee of Captains R. W. Musgrove and A. W. Bartlett and Lieut. Rufus E. Gale to decide upon a design, and contract for the construction and erection of a monument for the purpose and upon the field above referred to. The whole work was done, according to contract, by Thomas Nawn of Con- cord to the entire satisfaction of the committee and the regiment, and was dedicated September 29 in the presence of quite a large collection of the members of the regiment and citizens of New Hampshire who were accompanying them on an excursion to Washington, Richmond, and the battle-fields of Gettysburg, Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Fredericks- burg, including among other places of interest a visit to Luray Cave in Virginia.
The monument, as will be seen, somewhat resembles in shape and style a Grecian sarcophagus surmounted by a knapsack. The dimen- sions of its base are 6 feet 10 inches by 4 feet 6 inches ; its die is 6 feet
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2 inches by 3 feet 8 inches, and the cap 6 feet 8 inches by 4 feet 4 inches. Its total height, from sub-base to apex. is 8 feet and 4 inches, but stand- ing, as it does, upon a mound that covers an elevated foundation, and the whole upon a billow-like swell of land considerably higher than the road in front or ground in rear, it looks to be much higher than it measures, and its appearance is both imposing and inspiring. It was worked out of unblemished blocks of the choicest Concord granite by the most expert and skillful hands, and is so appropriately and beauti- fully artistic in design and finish, that it has often been pronounced by competent judges to be one of the nicest among the nearly three hundred stone and bronze memorials that now mark regimental and battalion positions on the monumental field of Gettysburg.
From the centre of the nicely polished front of the die a panel was chiseled out so as to leave therein, in outstanding yet protected letters. the following inscription :
JULY 2, 1863. ENGAGED, 224.
KILLED, 20 ; WOUNDED, 73; DIED OF WOUNDS, 6.
Beneath this is a couplet from Holmes's pathetic poem, entitled " Brother Jonathan's Lament for Sister Caroline," which was written upon the occasion of South Carolina's legislative act of secession :
" Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky ; Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the dic."
The two remaining lines of the verse are -
" Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with steel, The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal."
On the base, as can be plainly seen in the picture, is deeply engraved - I2TII N. I. VOLS.
On either end is a raised diamond, representing the badge of the Third Corps, to which the regiment at that time belonged, and in which it served most of the time while in the Army of the Potomac. Within each of these diamonds is cut -
IST BRIG., 2D DIV., 3D CORPS.
Upon the back side of the die is the following inscription :
This regiment was raised in four days ; served nearly three years in the armies of the Potomac and the James ; and lost, in killed and wounded, over 50 per cent of those engaged at Chancellorsville and Cold Harbor, and of its original number while in the service.
It marched to this field on the night of the first, fought here on the second, and supported the centre against Pickett's charge on the third.
JULY 2, 1862. ENGAGED, 224. KILLED, 20; WOUNDED, DIED OF WOUNDS, G.
12-N.H. VOLS.
THE TWELFTH REGIMENT MONUMENT AT GETTYSBURG.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
The cost of the monument. exclusive, was eight hundred and seven dollars, over three hundred being contributed by members of the regiment.
The dedicatory exercises commenced about 3 o'clock : the forenoon, and until a late dinner, being taken up in visiting the most important and interesting parts of the battle-ground, and listening to short explanatory lectures from Col. John B. Bachelder, government historian of the battle, who joined the excursionists on their way to Gettysburg and conducted them over the field.
After a short but eloquent prayer by Rev. Thomas Tyrie, a veteran of the First New Hampshire Cavalry, the monument was unveiled by Mrs. II. B. Fowler and Mrs. E. G. Musgrove, who removed the national flag that covered it, and Surgeon H. B. Fowler, in a few expressive words, hailed it in behalf of the living and the dead, whose deeds it now stood forth in all its grandeur and beauty to commemorate, and formally presented it as unveiled to a grateful country and admiring world.
Miss Ellen Jenkins, one of the daughters of the regiment, then read a poem written for the occasion by Mrs. Dr. John Wheeler, of Pittsfield, N. H .. and Capt. A. W. Bartlett delivered the oration.
Capt. R. W. Musgrove, chairman of the regimental committee above referred to, next formally presented the monument, in behalf of the sur- viving members of the regiment, to the .. Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association," and the accepting of the trust, in a few appropriate remarks by Mr. J. M. Krauth, secretary of that organization, closed the exercises.
During the dedication a shower cloud arose whose aspect of rain. which begun to fall while he was speaking. hastened the orator to a close, and abbreviated somewhat the closing exercises .*
This reminded the veterans present of the terrible battle-storm that. coming from the same direction. and at nearly the same time of day, burst and beat upon them while standing upon the same spot more than quarter of a century before.
The poem. oration, and presentation address, having been preserved, are here given in their order. The unveiling salutary by Doctor Fowler was impromtu and no report of it can now be found.
POEM.
BY MARY H. WHEELER.
STEP softly ! this is Gettysburg. And here our soldiers came :
The hills that are around us And the skies remain the same.
With Cemetery Ridge to right. And Round Top there you see ;
And here the field and road they crossed In eighteen sixty-three.
But where are now the multitudes, The swaying lines of blue? Where is the smoke of battle And its dust and darkness too?
Where is the sound of shot and shell, The cannon's deeper roar ?
Where are the smoke-grimed faces Of the comrades seen no more ?
* See mention of in oration.
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Step softly ! for these blades of grass With heroes' blood were fed ; And human hearts are blended In the soil whereon we tread.
These rocks have heard, this sky received, The moans of dying men. When ranks of naked souls passed on To fields beyond our ken.
And many a mother, bowed with grief, Drooped slowly year by year : And widows wept and children wailed For those who perished here.
The nation stood in silent awe When first the types revealed The valor of her dauntless sons Upon this bloody field.
And in the tide of war that rolled Across this valley then, Were any worthier or more brave Than our New Hampshire men ?
The Granite State may proudly own Her regiments, and tell Where fought her Second and her Fifth. And her good Twelfth as well.
Her Twelfth, those patriotic boys, Who left the schools and farms, And rushed at Father Abram's call In eager haste to arms.
The Twelfth, or what remained thereof, Since from its riven ranks Red war had garnered ample sheaves On Rappahannock's banks,
Footsore from long and weary march. Arriving in the night, With little time for rest or food - We find them in the fight.
Here in the battle front they stood, 'Mid smoke and flying lead. With gleam of flashing musketry On faces of their dead.
And prompt to do, and brave to dare, And ready to obey. They fought as only heroes fight, On that midsummer day.
With cannon thundering to left And belching death and woe, Behold them grimly changing front To meet the flanking foe !
Here French, with sword in hand, went down In life's delightful morn, With love and hope encircling him And glory beckoning on :
1 And Howe, who bore our flag of state Firmly to faltering breath, Nor yielded then his precious charge But grasped its folds in death ;
And Parker, who the stars and stripes Upheld with loyal pride, And falling wounded unto death. Still "Save the colors !" cried.
Our nation's starry standard see, When all its guard lay low. By ready hands still borne aloft Or shaken at the foe.
O words, dull words, how weak they are, Employed by tongue or pen, To picture deeds engraven here In blood and lives of men !
Not all the brave in battle die. Nor are all heroes slain ; And while we sorrow for the lost, We prize those who remain.
Where are they? These with frosted hair, These quiet men we see ; Are these the bold New Hampshire boys Who fought in sixty-three?
Yes, quiet now, but should their flag Be menaced by a foe, You'd see the old-time courage rise, The old-time valor glow ;
And, like the war horse of the tale, At the first bugle strain, You'd find them falling into line Prepared to fight again.
The years with steady step march on As conquering armies do ; They level fortress, trench, and mound, And feud and fury too.
They set new boundaries to lands, New rulers on the throne, And pillage from the precious things We treasure as our own.
But long this granite sentinel Its silent watch will keep, Where fought our valiant Twelfth so well And where its fallen sleep ;
And long New Hampshire tell their roll And count their brave deeds o'er, And 'mid her treasured trophies hold The tattered flags they bore.
And longer yet shall Liberty Her starry banner wave, And grateful generations own The land they helped to save.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
ORATION.
BY CAPT. A. W. BARTLETT.
Standing, as we now are, upon soil made sacred by the blood of the patriot martyrs, who here offered themselves as a sacrifice for their country's freedom and our national redemption, we realize, as never before, how impotent are words from mortal lips to do justice to those whose immortal deeds shall outlive the monumental granite which we have come hither to dedicate to their memory.
Upon such an occasion as this, silence is more impressively eloquent than speech, for we seem then to be listening to the spirit voices of that vast army of the heroic dead who fought and fell in the great struggle for liberty and union that culminated upon this field a quarter of a century ago.
It is here that the historic past and the prophetic future of our country arise before our mental vision, and solemnly remind us of the obligations and respon- sibilities of the living present.
We seem to be standing, as indeed we are, on the high dividing line between the right and the wrong, the old and the new; not only as relating to the eman- cipation of a race and a " new birth of freedom " in our own land and time, but in the whole history of the world's civilization.
Other great and decisive battlefields have changed the boundaries of empires and fixed the destiny of nations, but not until the lightning flash of victory illuminated the dark and threatening battle-cloud that gathered in awful moment and power around the blood-drenched crest of Cemetery Ridge, did the silver lining, the bow of promise, and the sun of liberty, appear to gladden, cheer, and bless, as never before, the people of every land and clime on the face of the earth.
This is not Marathon, nor Morgarten, nor Bannockburn; but greater than either, and high above them all, the name of Gettysburg shall shine as a star of promise in the zenith heaven to light up the pathway of the nations down through the ages of time.
Here, as upon no other battlefield, shall the Christian patriot from every nation come, and in humble reverence bow the head and bend the knee at this consecrated shrine of civil and religious freedom.
How true it is that great and enduring blessings spring not up like prairie flowers, spontaneous on every hand, to please the eye with their beauty and sweeten the air with their fragrance, but are the result of conflict and suffering stern and severe; the offspring, it may be, of the discordant and destructive elements of hatred and passion, directed and controlled by the supreme wisdom of One who makes the wrath of man to praise Him. Out of chaotic darkness and from the elemented strife of conflicting forces came forth light and harmony
" When the radiant morn of creation broke, And the world in the smile of God awoke."
And thus from the throes of chaos came forth order, and the great physical laws of universal creation were established amid the "music of the spheres," as they first rolled from the hand of their Omnipotent Creator. And, as in the material, so in the immaterial or moral world -light out of darkness! life out of death !
Not only has the truth of this been sanctified and solemnized by the suffering
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and death of the Saviour of the world in the great plan of human redemption, but we see it illustrated by the lives of men and the history of nations.
But where on the calendar of time do we find such an example of its truth and power in the affairs of men as is found in the history of our own country? It was only by seven long years of conflict, toil, and suffering that our Revolu- tionary sires laid with their own hands and cemented with their own blood the foundation stones of this Government. But in the virgin soil of the republic they unfortunately suffered the deadly upas of slavery to take root and grow, side by side with the tree of liberty, until it was almost equally dangerous to the life of the nation to undertake to remove, or longer allow it to stand ; and our ablest statesmen looked out into the threatening future with fear and trembling for the result.
At last the inevitable conflict and the dark hours came on, not, as was feared, to tear asunder and destroy, but to reunite, strengthen, and perpetuate ; and out of the agonizing throes of a civil war, such as no other nation could have sur- vived, America stands forth the laurel-crowned victor of the New World. "redeemed. regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistable genius of universal emancipation." And thus life and light for the future came out of the darkness and death of the past.
Long, then, after this generation has passed away will the free citizens of a mighty republic meet upon this great monumental battlefield of the world, and proudly claim lineage from those who here fought to save from the foot of rebel invasion that which their fathers had wrenched from the hand of oppression. And among those will come the sons and daughters of New Hampshire to point out where her gallant Second, her " Fighting Fifth," and her heroic Twelfth, as well as her no less valiant company of Sharpshooters and Light Artillery, fought as defenders of the nation's life.
While the history of these organizations is full of brave and noble deeds, and each made a record of glory here, it is only of the Twelfth that I shall be expected to speak. This regiment. the survivors of which, with the aid of the State, have erected this lasting tribute to the memory of their comrades who fell upon this field. was raised by the shores of the beautiful lakes that reflect the lofty mountains that stand sentinels of liberty in our own loved " Switzerland of America." Stalwart and sturdy as their native hills, averaging in physical development a standard scarcely equalled by any other regiment from New England or the North, they went forth from peaceful, happy homes twenty-six years ago to battle on southern fields for the preservation of the same heritage of freedom that their fathers had fought for at Bunker Hill and Bennington nearly a century before.
Of its marches and battles, and their record of suffering and sacrifice from that time to the end of the war, except as relating to this decisive field, there is neither time nor need for me to refer. Although less than a year in the service, such had been the sad havoc of death by disease and wounds, that it formed its battle-line near yonder grove on the morning of the second day of July, 1863, with less than one fourth of its original number and little more than one half as many men as were cut from its ranks two months before on the sanguinary field of Chancellorsville. Of the few still living who answered to the roll-call on that eventful morn, but twelve are allowed to enjoy the high privilege of meeting with us here to-day.
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New Hampshire Volunteers.
Though twenty-five years and more have passed since you, veteran comrades, weary, worn, and weather-bronzed, with aching limbs and blistered fect and covered with the sweat and dust of the march, first bivouacked on the soil of Gettysburg, yet how vividly it all comes back to you now! You are standing upon the same ground ; you recognize the same hills and valleys ; you feel the genial rays of the same bright orb above (though yonder cloud now, like the smoke of battle then, obscures his brightness), and are privileged, thank God, to gaze upon the same old flag, with new stars added but none obliterated, still floating upon Cemetery Ridge ; but how different the occasion, how changed the scene ! It was about this time in the afternoon of that awful strife that you met the enemy on the very spot where you now stand, but how great the contrast between that and this hour's exercises! Because of the memory so painfully vivid of that, how solemnly impressive is this! Then was the fiery battle-blast of iron bolts and leaden hail, cutting through your ranks and covering the ground with the dying and the dead ; but now it is the cooling breeze and the gentle rain, falling like tear-drops from Heaven to wash the dust from this mon- ument that we now dedicate to the sacred memory and undying fame of those who perished here.
Then yonder heights were covered with artillery, hot in the work of destruc- tion and death, and leaden hail poured from the livid battle-clouds that hung round their base and spread over these valleys. Then the air quivered and the ground trembled with the rush and shock of battle. Then was the charge and the rout, with the rebel yell and the union shout ; the screech of flying shot and the shriek of dying men; the crash of bursting shells and the clash of resound- ing arms. Then was the first part of Dante's Inferno dramatized by the light of the cannon's flash, and death's high carnival pictured in blood upon the scenes. And thus, for three long days, the awful tragedy of war went on, until these green fields were red with the blood of the wounded and dead of the two great armies of the North and the South in the dreadful struggle for the life of the nation ; the one to preserve, the other to destroy. But now the terrible storm is over and the earthquake shock has passed ; and in the cloudless sky above, Columbia's star shines so much higher and brighter than ever before that the nations of the Old World
" No longer question, as they upward gaze,
Whether it's the meteor's flash or the sun's bright blaze."
You remember, comrades, and can never forget the many days and nights of forced marches that brought you from the battle-lined shores of the Rappahan- nock to meet the enemies of your country once more face to face ; but now, for the first and last time, on the free soil of a northern state. You remember the last long midnight march of twenty miles; of your unexpected contact with and fortunate escape from the rebel lines ; and how, by the light of the moon, you saw the hand of your watch point the silent, solemn hour of one, before you sunk almost exhausted upon your arms to rest. Alas! to how many of your little band of veteran heroes it was the last night's rest on earth - the last short sleep of the brave before the long, untroubled sleep of the grave.
Scarcely had the dawn heralded the approach of that never-to-be-forgotten day, when you were called to arms, and soon, moving forward a short dis- tance, formed your first line of battle. Then came the hours of waiting and
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watching for the enemy's advance which was every moment expected. The sun has risen half way in his upward course, and not a sound of battle is yet heard ; but you know too well that it is the portentous lull before the dreadful storm, and soon the scattering fire of the skirmish line gives warning of its near approach.
At noon you are again advanced to support Seeley's battery at the apple orchard, then just to the rear of the house upon my left, though the trees no longer stand to mark the spot ; and a little later, moving a few rods to the right and front, you take position here with the other regiments of your brigade along the line of this Emmitsburg road. One-two-three, the hours pass, and you anxiously watch the slow descending sun; for. still unengaged, you begin to hope that the evening may come as the morning has gone, and find you untouched by the fire of battle.
Delusive shadow of hope, how soon to be dispelled ! For almost before you cherish it, the skirmish fire on your left swells into the tempest of battle, and with the crash and roar of musketry and artillery extending toward the right, will soon burst in all its fury upon you.
It is the determined attack of Longstreet's solid columns, hurled upon the left of Sickles's corps at the peach orchard; and although the iron-nerved and lion-hearted veterans of Birney and Graham are there and the contest is terrific, yet no power of man can withstand the cyclone of ruin and death that envelopes them, and the fatal angle is crushed in and swept away.
But you have no longer to wait and listen, for look! the skirmishers are coming in, firing as they run. while close behind them you see the long, unbroken lines of rebel gray swiftly approaching to attack your front. They are the fresh troops of General Anderson's division, and are greeted with shot and shell from Turnbull's and Seeley's batteries on your right and left; but on they come, while the same missiles of destruction from their own batteries, brought rapidly into position on yonder crest, are cutting through your ranks.
Steady, men ! Stand firm, New Hampshire Twelfth! for the long expected and dreaded hour of your trial has at last come ! They are now within range of your muskets, and you open upon them a rapid and well directed fire.
But before you can stay the tide in your front, above the roar of battle and sharper than the bugle's blast you hear the well known charging yell of Barks. dale's forces, who, having nothing now to oppose them on the left, come sweeping down like an avalanche upon your flank. Now is the crisis moment of the trying hour ; for just as you resolve to stand or fall, conquer or die, upon this spot already within the vortex of the battle, comes the startling order from General Humphreys to change front to the rear !
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