Also, please see the military timeline I created: Timeline of Private Daniel H. Otis with Company B, 14th Connecticut Infantry Regiment
NOTE: There is so much more to read on this website than these "Excerpts From Select Books." I would suggest starting with Daniel H. Otis: His Story, and working out from there. Other pages of interest are: Daniel's military service records, and the official muster roll that I re-organized for Capt. Elijah Gibbon's Co. B. If genealogy is your thing, there is plenty of that on this site too. Start with the Otis Family Genealogy page. Thanks for reading!
Excerpts from select books cited on this page are:
“History of The Fourteenth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteer Infantry,” by Charles D. Page
“The Fredericksburg Campaign,” by Francis Augustin O’Reilly
“Souvenir Excursion to Battlefields,” by the Society for the 14th Connecticut Regiment
“A Noble and Glorious Cause: The Life, Times, and Civil War Service of Captain Elijah W. Gibbons,” by Thomas La Lancette
Several of my notes are peppered throughout the excerpts. My notes are in bold, as are certain parts of the excerpts.
// Excerpt from “History of The Fourteenth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteer Infantry,” by Charles D. Page //
During the early spring months of 1862, the Union forces were successful upon all the lines of their advance. There was a wide-spread feeling that the end of the conflict was at hand. This feeling was further strengthened by an order from the War Department on April 3, 1862, discontinuing enlistment in all the states.
This action and the wide-spread belief that the armies then in the field were sufficient to meet any emergency, quickened business and revived industry. The call of the President in 1861 for 500,000 men had been filled and the last of Connecticut’s quota (13,037), the 13th Regiment had left New Haven on March 17th and were doing duty at Ship Island.
These were the conditions when on May 21st the War Department signified its willingness to accept from Connecticut one regiment to form a contingent of 50,000 men for a “Camp of Instruction” at Annapolis, Maryland.
The next day on May 22nd, the government directed that volunteers be received sufficient to form one regiment to be known as the 14th Regiment of Infantry, to server 3 years. The plan of the regiment to be the same as those already in the field. The Regiment was ordered to meet at Hartford. The camp was located on the New Haven Turnpike about 2 miles from Hartford and was called Camp Foote.
The 14th Regiment was to be a regiment from the state a large. For the reasons mentioned above, the enlistments were slow and unsatisfactory. The prospect of spending an indefinite period in a “Camp of Instruction” was not alluring to a true soldier, certainly not to that class of men that finally made up the 14th Regiment.
No one at that time would have ventured to prophecy that this very regiment, conceived for the dull duties of a “Camp of Instruction,” was destined to play an important part in some of the bloodiest battles of modern times, and to do valiant service in some of the pivotal actions of the great conflicts.
By July about 250 men had already enlisted—which was nearly 2 months after the call for volunteers. Suddenly all these conditions changed.
Reverse followed reverse with in the Union army and the tide of rebellion swept westward and northward until the people of the North were depressed and alarmed.
Governor Buckingham joined with the governors of all the states requesting the President to “call out a sufficient number of men to garrison the cities and military posts that have been captured by our armies and to speedily put down the rebellion that now exists in several Southern states.”
Therefore, President Lincoln issued an order for the enlisting of 300,000 more men. Connecticut’s quota in this call was: 7,145 men.
July 1st Governor Buckingham issued a call for that many men to form 6 more regiments. Immediately following the call, the Governor issued an impassioned address and appeal for volunteers. Meetings to promote enlistments were held in nearly all of the cities and larger towns of the state. These meetings were addressed by some of the best-known men and characterized by intense patriotic enthusiasm and fervor. The effect of the Governor’s appeal and influence of these meetings were electrical. From one end of the state to the other, the stirring scenes of April, 1861 were re-enacted. Young men flocked to the recruiting offices eager and earnest to enlist in the service of their country.
The “lonely squads” of the 14th Regiment that had passed up and down the dusty field of Camp Foote for weeks, felt the impulse of the new enthusiasm and everyday brought new members to its ranks.
The last of July Captain Burpee brought in Company D from Vernon. Soon followed Company B, Captain Elijah Gibbons, from Middletown, who entered camp with band playing and flags flying and escorted by the firemen of Middletown. There was great rejoicing when this company came into camp and we formed a line and gave them three hearty cheers.
Daniel enlisted on August 4, 1862 and was mustered in on August 20, 1862. By August 22nd the last man had enlisted and the last commission had been assigned. On August 23rd the Regiment was mustered into service.
The 14th Connecticut was on the right of French’s Division with the 130th Pennsylvania next, and the 108th New York on the left, marching that day with the Third Brigade in front, their own Brigade (the Second), under Colonel Morris, next and under the First Brigade in the rear.
Also in regard to the Union looting, one Fredericksburg resident says this about returning to her home after the battle: “…the Federals did as much damage as possible. One room was piled more than halfway to the ceiling with feathers from beds ripped open, every mirror had been run through with a bayonet, a panel of each door cut out, furniture nearly all broken up, the china broken into bits, and everything of value taken away.”
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// Excerpt from “History of The Fourteenth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteer Infantry,” by Charles D. Page //
During the early spring months of 1862, the Union forces were successful upon all the lines of their advance. There was a wide-spread feeling that the end of the conflict was at hand. This feeling was further strengthened by an order from the War Department on April 3, 1862, discontinuing enlistment in all the states.
This action and the wide-spread belief that the armies then in the field were sufficient to meet any emergency, quickened business and revived industry. The call of the President in 1861 for 500,000 men had been filled and the last of Connecticut’s quota (13,037), the 13th Regiment had left New Haven on March 17th and were doing duty at Ship Island.
These were the conditions when on May 21st the War Department signified its willingness to accept from Connecticut one regiment to form a contingent of 50,000 men for a “Camp of Instruction” at Annapolis, Maryland.
The next day on May 22nd, the government directed that volunteers be received sufficient to form one regiment to be known as the 14th Regiment of Infantry, to server 3 years. The plan of the regiment to be the same as those already in the field. The Regiment was ordered to meet at Hartford. The camp was located on the New Haven Turnpike about 2 miles from Hartford and was called Camp Foote.
The 14th Regiment was to be a regiment from the state a large. For the reasons mentioned above, the enlistments were slow and unsatisfactory. The prospect of spending an indefinite period in a “Camp of Instruction” was not alluring to a true soldier, certainly not to that class of men that finally made up the 14th Regiment.
No one at that time would have ventured to prophecy that this very regiment, conceived for the dull duties of a “Camp of Instruction,” was destined to play an important part in some of the bloodiest battles of modern times, and to do valiant service in some of the pivotal actions of the great conflicts.
By July about 250 men had already enlisted—which was nearly 2 months after the call for volunteers. Suddenly all these conditions changed.
Reverse followed reverse with in the Union army and the tide of rebellion swept westward and northward until the people of the North were depressed and alarmed.
Governor Buckingham joined with the governors of all the states requesting the President to “call out a sufficient number of men to garrison the cities and military posts that have been captured by our armies and to speedily put down the rebellion that now exists in several Southern states.”
Therefore, President Lincoln issued an order for the enlisting of 300,000 more men. Connecticut’s quota in this call was: 7,145 men.
July 1st Governor Buckingham issued a call for that many men to form 6 more regiments. Immediately following the call, the Governor issued an impassioned address and appeal for volunteers. Meetings to promote enlistments were held in nearly all of the cities and larger towns of the state. These meetings were addressed by some of the best-known men and characterized by intense patriotic enthusiasm and fervor. The effect of the Governor’s appeal and influence of these meetings were electrical. From one end of the state to the other, the stirring scenes of April, 1861 were re-enacted. Young men flocked to the recruiting offices eager and earnest to enlist in the service of their country.
The “lonely squads” of the 14th Regiment that had passed up and down the dusty field of Camp Foote for weeks, felt the impulse of the new enthusiasm and everyday brought new members to its ranks.
The last of July Captain Burpee brought in Company D from Vernon. Soon followed Company B, Captain Elijah Gibbons, from Middletown, who entered camp with band playing and flags flying and escorted by the firemen of Middletown. There was great rejoicing when this company came into camp and we formed a line and gave them three hearty cheers.
Daniel enlisted on August 4, 1862 and was mustered in on August 20, 1862. By August 22nd the last man had enlisted and the last commission had been assigned. On August 23rd the Regiment was mustered into service.
No Connecticut regiment ever took to the front of more noble representation of the best elements of the state than did the 14th. Dr. Jewett says of them: “They are young men of good character.” It was indeed a regiment from the state at large, a regiment of the people. No less than 86 towns were represented upon the roster.
The 14th Regiment numbered 1,015 men. "The Fighting Fourteenth."
Company A
Company B (Daniel Otis’ Company), Captain Elijah W. Gibbons. Middletown: 93 men; Durham: 6 men; Waterbury: 2 men; Bridgeport, New Haven, Norwich, Vernon, Haddam: 1 man each (106 men total).
Company C
Company D
Company E
Company F
Company G
Company H
Company I
Company K
Now came the busy preparation and the impatience to move to the front.
The men of the 14th were to be armed with Springfield rifles, with the exception of Company A and Company B, which were to be equipped with Sharps rifles.
Rigid military discipline was not yet introduced into camp. There was a lack of fire arms at Camp Foote. Guard duty under such conditions was a trifle lax and without such equipment we could not stop men from passion over the lines if we tried, so we let them go. This was bad discipline, for when we reached the enemy’s country and the boys suspected there was something good to eat outside the lines, we were quiet willing to have our back to them when they went and came. Sometimes we shared an extra bit of fresh pork, lamb, or hoe caked as a result of our blindness.
No member of the Regiment will forget those closing days at Camp Foote, the hurried bustle of preparation for departure, the throngs of people who came to say farewell.
August 25th the Regiment broke camp and started for Washington. They left camp with bands playing and flags flying, marching to the dock in a column of fours. As we moved the crowds increased and when we reached the corner of Main and State Streets, it became so dense that we could hardly make progress. Reaching the dock, six companies boarded the steamer “City of Hartford,” and four companies upon the transport “Dudley Buck.” When we reached Middletown, it seemed as if the whole city had turned out to meet us. The dock and all the space about was black with people. Many came to the boats with baskets of fruit and food, which were greatly appreciated by the boys. At Cobalt a great gun on the hill gave us a roaring “God-speed.”
Slowly the steamer and transport steamed out of the Connecticut River and into the broader waters of the sound. “At the right lay the old state, dear to the hearts of those on board, their birthplace, the scenes of their ambitions and hopes, and the homes of those they loved who were left behind. Slowly they passed the familiar hilltops, the rugged cliffs, the undulating shore and the broad fields that floated back to the western sky. So the twilight drifted into the shadow and the shadow into darkness, and the fair scene was hidden from view. Alas, how many were never permitted to look upon it again!”
The Regiment arrived in New York early the next morning, where they were refreshed with a bountiful supply of food by the Soldier’s Relief Committee. They did not land, but were transferred to a large transport, the “Kill von Kull,” and steamed down the harbor past Staten Island to the Elizabeth River, and up to the river to Elizabethport, where the troops were again transferred to cars, and after some delay, a long train in two sections steamed away toward Baltimore by way of Harrisburg and York, Pennsylvania.
The night was long and tedious. The decks of the steamer were several degrees harder than the ground at Camp Foote and were also crowded, dirty, and hot, so there was very little sleep or rest.
On the way, the entire journey during the daylight hours was characterized by the same outbursts of patriotic enthusiasm as that sent out from the shores of Connecticut.
“Our progress was a sort of triumphal journey. Steamers sounded a salute with their whistles, flags unfurled, and bells rung. Farmers waved their hands and hats as a hurrah.”
The day wore slowly away. We passed through the borders of New Jersey and along the mountains of Pennsylvania.
“We were side-tracked an hour or two at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, as we might be ordered to Chambersburg. Lee’s army was in the Shenandoah Valley and the Pennsylvania border was threatened. We were ordered to Washington instead.
We passed through Harrisburg and in time reached Baltimore. We marched across the city to the Washington depot. Call Baltimore a secession place if you will, but we were treated better here than in any other place on our route. When we halted before entering the city, ladies ran out with pails of water, bread and butter, and melons for the soldiers.
We marched into the Soldier’s Relief Building provided by the citizens of Baltimore, where long tables were spread for the Regiment, and all sat down to as much good bread and cheese, ham, coffee, and ice water as we could take care of. "
During the delay at Baltimore, the Regiment passed under view of General Wool who said, “A splendid regiment. Not one drunken man in the ranks; too good a regiment to be sent anywhere but to the front.”
About 9 pm Thursday, we started for Washington in an old cattle train—about 40 men to a car. We arrived in Washington about 4 am in the morning and marched directly to the barracks.
Touching on the passage through Washington, Corporal Crittenden recalls: “I recall the reviewing stand where President Lincoln, General Scott, Secretary Stanton, and other dignitaries stood while we passed in review. Our staff officers and captains entered the reviewing stand and were in turn introduced to the President and his staff of officials. When the head of Company B, the left of the Regiment, reached the stand, President Lincoln was so busy and we felt we were not to be noticed. So, with one accord, we struck up loudly singing ‘We are coming Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more.’ At once he faced us, straightened up his tall form, doffed his high silk hat, and bowed and bowed until we were by.
President Lincoln said of our Regiment that we were the finest-looking body of men that had passed through Washington.”
"About 11 am the next day, we were formed into columns and with our clumsy knapsacks upon our backs, passed up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Long Bridge over the Potomac. Here a long halt was made to allow a train of mules to pass. We crossed over the bridge and found ourselves upon the “sacred soil” of Virginia, and very nasty soil it is—thick, yellow dust lay three inches deep and we were surrounded by a dense cloud of it. We came upon a little spring, and at least 500 men attempted to reach it all at once and there was general confusion."
That night the Regiment rested near Arlington Heights, calling it “Camp Chase.” It had taken three days to get from Camp Foote in Connecticut to here. The journey from Connecticut had been hard and fatiguing. The transportation was wretched, the delays were long and tedious, with little opportunity for sleep.
Samuel Fisk sums up the journey: “Our boys, on their way to the field, slept on the dirty decks of a steamer, lying together as rows of pins on a paper, were packed in dirty, close cars like sheep in a pen, and marched through dust so thick and fine, that mixed in proper proportions with perspiration caused by the intense heat, it formed a good plaster cast of every mans’ face and form. Water is often too precious to use for washing; linen gets dirty; washerwomen are scarce; clothing of every kind grows ragged and the whole dirt steadily and surely prevails…A soldier’s life is a pretty thirsty and hungry life. For three days together, during the first week, we had nothing to eat but a few hard crackers and once a morsel of cheese, and once a slice of ham a piece; and for one night and part of a day we had no water.”
The hope that a few days, if not weeks, would be allowed the Regiment for rest and recuperation; that much needed sleep would be obtained and rations be more plenty and steady—were not realized. Before the morning light of August 29th had dawned upon Camp Chase, the long roll was sounded and the men sprung from their sleep to meet an impending danger, which the call indicated. The boxes were hastily opened and the arms distributed, with the exception of Company A and Company B, which received their Sharps rifles as they came off Long Bridge. The threatened danger ended up being a false alarm.
After making coffee, the Regiment moved off in a light marching order, leaving baggage behind, and taking only their rubber blankets, toward Fort Ethan Allen near Chain Bridge, about 10 miles above Washington.
Sunday, September 7th, the Regiment, with the 130th Pennsylvania and 108th New York Volunteers, two new Regiments, were assigned to form the Second Brigade of the Third Division, Second Army Corps of the Army of the Potomac. Colonel Dwight Morris was placed in command of the Brigade and Lieutenant-Colonel S.H. Perkins assumed command of the 14th Regiment. The destinies and fortunes of the 14th Regiment was now linked with those of the Army of the Potomac.
Lieutenant-Colonel Perkins had perhaps by instinct and some training, a larger share of military spirit than the average commissioned officers. It was mainly due to his persistent zeal in drilling the men and instructing the offices, that when the green regiment was hurled into the Battle of Antietam (within 3 weeks of muster in), that it won for itself such honorable record.
With the usual incidents of camp life, the 14th Regiment remained near Fort Ethan Allen until Sunday, September, 7th when it was ordered to be in readiness to move with the Army of the Potomac in pursuit of Lee.
September 8th camped in the woods near Rockville, Maryland. “We are in a magnificent oak grove and a better spot for a camp could hardly be imagined. In these same woods two or three other regiments, which compose our brigade are bivouacked.”
Day after day the regiment marched side-by-side with the Irish Brigade and well do the men of the 14th remember how they were jeered and guyed by the Irish Brigade, who called them ‘blue-legged devils’ and assured them they could not be seen for the dust they would kick up getting away from Bobbie Lee when he once got after them. It may be recalled, however, that after the 14th had been for nearly two hours in the thick of the battle of Antietam and had watched the Irish Brigade make their charge on the Sunken Road, saw them slaughtered and repulsed: and the 14th went over to support that part of the line, then their tune changed and ever after that they recognized the 14th as fighting men and were never happier than when they were alongside of them in battle, confident that the 14th would hold its part of the line secure.
Four days marching brought the regiment to Clarksburg, Maryland. The following day, September 12th, they arrived at Hyattstown and encamped at White Oak Spring, upon ground occupied by the Confederates two days previously. Step-by-step, they saw the desolation and waste of war-ruined homes, dismantled gun carriages, piles of muskets, and putrefying bodies of horses and mules.
Saturday, September 13th, the march was continued toward Frederick City. The boys were in the best of spirits and sang with a will “John Brown’s Body,” etc.
The men were well-received and as they passed up the main street, were greeted with loyal cheers. As they passed an old engine house, in which were a number of Confederate prisoners, one called out “What regiment is that?” “The 14th Wooden Nutmeg,” was the reply, to which the audacious prisoner answered, “You will soon get your heads grated.”
The Regiment then marched two miles beyond the town and bivouacked in a field near the reservoir. The next morning, Sunday, the Regiment was called at 2 am and drew three rations of hard-tack, pork, sugar, and coffee, and lay down again. At 8 am the Regiment was again called and began the march toward Antietam, crossing a stream and marching until 2 pm, with two short halts, and crossing a range of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Here, a halt was made in a field and coffee cooked and about 5 pm it moved off again. We were to take part in the battle of South Mountain, but were prevented from doing so by difficulty in crossing a canal, which delayed the Regiment several hours.
At 12 midnight, they were able to pass the canal and marched to the battlefield of South Mountain, which that day had been the scene of a bloody contest between McClellan and Lee. Here, the men saw for the first time the dire effects of the war.
Sergeant Benjamin Hirst, on September 15th, says: “I awoke about 5 am on the battlefield of yesterday and went out to see what war was without romance. I cannot describe my feelings, but I hope to God never to see the like again.”
About 10 am the march was resumed, crossing the maintain at “Turners Gap,” proceeding to Boonsboro, which place was reached about 3 pm. The column turned east, facing Sharpsburg. The enemy was close at hand.
The march continued through Keedysville, which was passed about 9 pm. On the line of march, acres of soldiers were camped upon each side of the road. About a mile beyond Keedysville, the column of which our Regiment was a part of, bivouacked in a field on the Boonsboro Pike, a short distance in the rear of McClellan’s headquarters.
The Battle of Antietam
Wednesday, September 17, 1862, the day of the Battle of Antietam, called by the Confederates the Battle of Sharpsburg. Antietam was the most memorable in the history of the Regiment. Within three weeks of leaving their home state, the Regiment was plunged into one of the most fiercely fought and bloody battles of the war, and with only scant military drill and instruction in the use of arms. They were linked in a Brigade with two other regiments equally deficient in discipline. With a frightful loss of men in killed and wounded, leaves in the minds of those who participated in it memories that cannot be effaced.
Looking from the north, we see the Mumma building (later burned) and the neat and tidy premises of the Roulette Farm. Around these latter buildings was the center of the operations of the 14th Regiment.
The Federal troops that really fought at the battle of Antietam were the First, Second, Ninth, and Twelfth Corps (Daniel was in the Second Corp). This was proven by the report of losses. The corps mentioned lost over 20% of their number, while the Fifth and Sixth Corps and the Cavalry division lost only 2%, showing that they were practically unused.
When we last left the Regiment they were camping in a suburb of Keedysville on the Boonsboro Turnpike, after a long and tedious march from Fort Ethan Allen, which they left September 7th. The next day, the men rested, if rest is possible under such circumstances. Occasional shot and shell, and the sound of cannonading kept the men in mind of an approaching battle.
General Sumner ordered General French to have his Division in readiness to move at daybreak. At 2 am, Wednesday morning the Regiment was aroused to prepare for the march, each man receiving 96 rounds of cartridges and 45 caps.
The Regiment began marching toward the scene of the day’s conflict. They crossed the Boonsboro Turnpike, turned to the right and around the hill and after marching about 2 miles over fields and through woods, and in some instances fences were pulled down that obstructed the Regiment.
The Regiment forded Antietam Creek about 8 am at the third ford which was deep and slippery.
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| Where the 14th forded Antietam Creek |
The 14th Connecticut was on the right of French’s Division with the 130th Pennsylvania next, and the 108th New York on the left, marching that day with the Third Brigade in front, their own Brigade (the Second), under Colonel Morris, next and under the First Brigade in the rear.
After marching about 2 miles by flank, they entered the East Woods. The order was given to form line of battle. Shells were bursting around them, tearing off huge branches of trees while shot was cutting the air with its sharp shriek.
Coming to a fence, the Third Brigade, in front, passed over first. As they came in sight, the Confederate batteries opened a fierce fire and there was a storm of shot and shell. The column then passed down a slight hill terminating in low marshy ground between the houses of Mr. Mumma and William Roulette. The line was turned a trifle to the right into a cornfield.
The spring house of William Roulette was occupied by some belligerent sharp-shooters who were captured by Company B, after which the Company joined the Regiment. They passed by the Roulette building to a fence dividing the meadow from the cornfield. Climbing this fence, they entered the cornfield, which was about 30 acres and belonged jointly to Mumma and Roulette. The field had a vigorous growth and nearly ripe corn, and for a time the men were partially hidden from view and suffered little from shots of the enemy.
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| The Spring House where prisoners were captured by Company B. |
The Third Brigade, the front rank, reached the opposite fence several yards ahead of the Second Brigade, and their emergence from the field drew at once a terrific fire from the enemy, from which the men of the 14th suffered from over-shooting.
When the 14th had passed through the cornfield and stood on a little ridge on the side, the enemy there burst upon them a perfect tempest of musketry. The line of troops in front had passed well into the open field. It seemed to melt under the enemy’s fire, and breaking, many of the men ran through the ranks of the 14th toward the rear.
The conduct of the 5th Maryland seriously affected the 14th Regiment, by breaking and rushing back through the line. They threw the right wing into confusion, but although the right and center were broken twice, the men of the 14th rallied on the colors and formed in good order.
As by one impulse, the line halted on the edge of the cornfield and opened fire. Probably, they did little damage, as the enemy was well-protected. But on our side the bullets whistled past, cutting off cornstalks, and every moment some one of the men would fall.
First the 14th Connecticut and afterward the 130th Pennsylvania were advanced to the front line, subsequently joined by the 108th New York. All these Regiments came under savage fire, which they bore with remarkable composure, considering that it was their first action.
A fence at the farthest side of the cornfield was the farthest advance in that direction and a monument has been erected to mark the line by the State of Connecticut. They remained in this field for about three hours. The Regiment fell back to, and over the fence separating the cornfield from the meadow where it was reformed.
An order was given to support General Kimball of Richardson’s Division. The men were then marched back by the left flank to the Roulette house. They came round the barn to Roulette Lane, to the Roulette buildings, extending in the same general direction through the Roulette fields, to a position by a wall of the Roulette lane, which Colonel Morris was ordered to take and hold which he did with the 14th Connecticut alone.
After they had been in the thick of the battle at Antietam for about 1 ½ hours, the Confederate fire in front of the left wing of the Regiment slackened, and the left being on higher ground could look beyond the center and right of the Regiment to Ricket’s Battery, which was on high ground a little right of us. A line of Confederate skirmishers were seen creeping up toward the battery and meeting no opposition. Captain Elijah Gibbons saw the move and asked his men if they could see any of our troops supporting that battery. Several replied, “No.” He said they were going to capture the battery. Some troops came from the right of the battery and they and the 14th boys met at the rear of the guns, and the Confederate skirmish line fell back. The left wing then moved back and joined the Regiment at the rear of Roulette barn.
Left of Kimball, the “Irish Brigade” (Meagher’s) was on the right, and heavily engaged. The 14th Connecticut and the 108th New York were sent as temporary re-enforcements. While taking this new position, the Regiment moving from the wall, but yet in Roulette Lane, was subjected to a terrible ordeal by the bursting of a shell in Company D, killing 3 men and wounding 4.
The movement continued to the left beyond General Richardson’s regular line, to a point from 10 to 20 rods beyond the fence. Although not within musket range, they were within shelling range and some were struck. One of those shells passed through the ground under Hiram H. Fox of Company B. It produced a great shock, rendering him unconscious for several hours.
The Regiment was then ordered to support a battery at the top of a hill. The Regiment was then moved to the top of the hill by orders of General Hancock. “Finding a considerable interval at a dangerous point between Meagher’s Irish Brigade and Caldwell’s Brigade, the 14th Connecticut was placed there, and detachment from the 108th New York on the extreme left.”
As soon as the Regiment reached the summit of the hill, they attracted the fire of some Confederates who had come out from Bloody Lane on to the plowed field of the Roulette Farm. To escape this fire, the Regiment was ordered to lie down, which it did. But the enemy, having the range, harassed them until dark, principally with shells. The ground had recently been plowed and was covered with a layer of powdery earth. They longed for night to come and were well-high exhausted, having no water through the day and only a few hard crackers. Soon night came and the firing ceased. During the night there was a severe rain which while refreshing, did not add much to the personal beauty of the men. Here they lay all that night, and the next day and night, and then until 10 am Friday morning.
All that night through, and the following day and night, they heard the dreadful groans and cries of the wounded and dying wretches in Bloody Lane just over the hill calling for water or help, or to have taken off others who dead, were lying across or upon their tortured and helpless bodies, or for death to release them from their anguish. But the men of the 14th were powerless to render the assistance their hearts longed to give.
Major Hincks gives some details of the trying experience of the Regiment on the plowed field: “We had moved to the top of the hill to the right of the battery and had commenced to form a line by throwing out our guides as on parade, when one of General French’s aids ordered the Lieutenant-Colonel to make his men lie down at once. The action was needed for the enemy had seen us and at once commenced shelling us. It was very trying to have to lie inactive under fire and listen to the hideous howling of the shell, varied only by their crash in exploding, and occasionally the shriek of someone who was struck. I lay closer to the ground than ever before in my life, although it was an exceedingly dirty place. I never prayed more fervently for darkness than then. This was by far the most trying, though by means the most dangerous part of the day.”
Darkness came and the enemy’s fire slackened and then ceased altogether and the thunder of battle died away. We could once more raise our heads and the few of us who were fortunate enough to have rations, found an opportunity to eat something. We throughout a few scouts in front of us and slept such sleep as we could get on the plowed ground with neither overcoats, blankets, nor tents. A shower during the night wet our clothing through.
The rebel sharp-shooters opened upon us as soon as it was daylight and our skirmishers replied. One could not raise his head from the ground without being observed and having a shot come whistling over. The rebels who seemed to be posted in an apple orchard, climbed trees to get a better view of us, but there our skirmishers soon dislodged them. Upon our right, we connected with a remnant of the Irish Brigade, and a little further on was a battery of brass guns. Upon the left, I do not know what troops were near us, if any.
As tired, hungry, cold, and dirty as we were, we were not personally anxious to renew the contest, but all day we expected the order, and had it come no doubt we would have done our duty.
Friday morning dawned and no enemy appeared in our front. Our skirmishers were advanced for over a half a mile without meeting opposition. Now we could stand upright and look around us. Just in front of us, and but a very few rods distant was a rebel rifle pit. Their dead bodies lay thick in it, and just in front of it lay the dead body of one of our men, apparently killed in the very moment that he was captured.
About 10 am we were relieved, and sent back to the rear where we joined the other Regiments of the Brigade, and had ammunition, bread, and pork issued to us. We bivouacked in the East Woods. Thus ended our actual share in the battle.
Samuel Fisk of Company G writes: “The battle itself was a scene of indescribable confusion. Troops did not know what they were expected to do, and sometimes, in the excitement, fired at their own men. But in the main, for green troops, I think we behaved well. The men fired with precision and deliberation, though some shut their eyes and fired into the air. Old officers said the musketry fire was the hottest they ever heard. The excitement of battle comes in the day of it, but the horrors of it two or three days after. The air grows terribly offensive from the unburied bodies, and a pestilence will speedily be bred if they are not put under ground. Most of the Union soldiers are now buried. Think now, of the horrors of such a scene as lies all around us, for there are hundreds of horses too, all mangled and putrefying, scattered everywhere. Then there are the broken gun carriages, wagons, and thousands of muskets, and all sorts of equipment, and the clothing all torn and bloody, and cartridges, and cannon shot, and pieces of shell; the trees torn with shot and scarred with bullets. The farm houses and barns knocked to pieces and burned down, the crops trampled and wasted. The whole country forlorn and desolate.”
Causalities for the 14th Connecticut Regiment in the Battle of Antietam:
Loss in killed: 2 commissioned officers; 19 enlisted men
Wounded: 2 commissioned officers; 86 enlisted men
Missing: 28 enlisted men
Total: 137
Company B Casualties
Killed: Private Robert Hubbard
Wounded: Corporal Frederick R. Beebe, Corporal David Maitland, Private Samuel G. Camp, Private Charles C. Galpin, Private Joseph McClusky, Private Hugh McBrayne, Private Benjamin C. Wilcox
Missing: Private George Brown
>Second Lieutenant George H. D. Crosby of Company K, was mortally wounded at the battle. The government did not supply sufficient rations, so he purchased them for his men from his own limited means, declining to be repaid.
>General French said, “The conduct of the new Regiments (14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York) must take a prominent place in the history of this great battle. Undrilled, but admirably armed and equipped, every Regiment either in advance or reserve, distinguished itself.”
>Colonel Morris says of the 14th Connecticut: “There never was such material in any army and in one month, these splendid men will not be excelled by any.”
>Colonel Dwight Morris says: “My Brigade (14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York) left camp at Keedysville on the morning of September 17th. After fording the Antietam, marching about two miles by the flank, we formed line of battle—the 14th Connecticut on the right, the 130th Pennsylvania at center, and 108th New York on the extreme left. We marched forward, forming in front of William Roulette’s house and farm, which was occupied by the enemy. Having driven them from that position, the right (14th Connecticut) rested in a cornfield, and the center occupied a space in front of an orchard. Here we were exposed to a galling cross-fire for 3 hours, but maintained the position. The 5th Maryland Regiment fell back early in the action, passing through the right wing of the 14th Connecticut. The right was immediately formed by Lieutenant-Colonel S.H. Perkins, and the Regiment three times formed under a severe cross-fire. Having received orders to support General Kimball, I reported to him and was ordered to take a position near a stone wall and to hold it. This I did with the 14th Connecticut alone, until ordered to advance the 14th to support Colonel Brooke who commanded the First Brigade—Richardson’s Division. I took the position assigned and remained until further orders. The 14th Connecticut was here, shelled by the enemy, until ordered by General Hancock to the front, which position the 14th held for 36-hours, constantly harassed by the enemy. My Brigade captured 2 stand of colors, 2 captains, 7 lieutenants, and about 400 privates, who were turned over to the provost-marshal at Boonsborough. Besides wounding many field officers of the enemy, we also took over 400 stand of arms, which were turned over to the ordnance officer. I attribute our success in a great measure to the constant communication with the commanding general through the day, as well as to the unsurpassed bravery of our men. The men in my Brigade were all new troops, hastily raised, and without drill or experience, and although under fire for the first time, behaved with great gallantry. In front of the last position held by the 14th Connecticut, more than 1,000 of the enemy lie slain. My loss in killed, wounded, and missing is 529.”
>Lieutenant-Colonel Sanford H. Perkins says something similar: “We broke bivouac at camp near Keedysville, Maryland on the morning of September, 17th and marched two hours by flank, when we formed line of battle and moved forward a distance of about one-half mile. When we became engaged, our position being in a corn field west of William Roulette’s farmhouse, the enemy occupying a position on the summit of a hill to our front. The 5th Maryland Regiment, being slightly to our advance, I reserved my fire until they broke, which threw three companies of my right wing into confusion, when we opened fire from the left and proceeded to rally the right, which having been effected, we held our position under a severe cross-fire for nearly 3 hours. During the time above, my right and center were broken twice, but rallied on the colors and formed in good order, and when ordered to retire, moved from the field with precision. We then took a position near a stone wall, east of the farmhouse, holding the same until ordered to support Colonel Brooke. During this movement, while marching by flank, a shell was thrown into our ranks, killing several of our men. The ranks were at once closed, the Regiment moved forward at quick time and in good order. Where all behaved so well it may seem invidious to particularize…..Captain Gibbons of Company B (Daniel’s Company) deserves notice, who finding the farmhouse occupied by a large force of the enemy, ordered his Company to advance and fire, scattering them and driving a portion of them into the cellar, where by, closing the door, a large number of them were captured. As you are aware, our men, hastily raised and without drill, behaved like Veterans, and fully maintained the honor of the Union and our native State.”
Loss in killed: 2 commissioned officers; 19 enlisted men
Wounded: 2 commissioned officers; 86 enlisted men
Missing: 28 enlisted men
Total: 137
Company B Casualties
Killed: Private Robert Hubbard
Wounded: Corporal Frederick R. Beebe, Corporal David Maitland, Private Samuel G. Camp, Private Charles C. Galpin, Private Joseph McClusky, Private Hugh McBrayne, Private Benjamin C. Wilcox
Missing: Private George Brown
>Second Lieutenant George H. D. Crosby of Company K, was mortally wounded at the battle. The government did not supply sufficient rations, so he purchased them for his men from his own limited means, declining to be repaid.
>General French said, “The conduct of the new Regiments (14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York) must take a prominent place in the history of this great battle. Undrilled, but admirably armed and equipped, every Regiment either in advance or reserve, distinguished itself.”
>Colonel Morris says of the 14th Connecticut: “There never was such material in any army and in one month, these splendid men will not be excelled by any.”
>Colonel Dwight Morris says: “My Brigade (14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York) left camp at Keedysville on the morning of September 17th. After fording the Antietam, marching about two miles by the flank, we formed line of battle—the 14th Connecticut on the right, the 130th Pennsylvania at center, and 108th New York on the extreme left. We marched forward, forming in front of William Roulette’s house and farm, which was occupied by the enemy. Having driven them from that position, the right (14th Connecticut) rested in a cornfield, and the center occupied a space in front of an orchard. Here we were exposed to a galling cross-fire for 3 hours, but maintained the position. The 5th Maryland Regiment fell back early in the action, passing through the right wing of the 14th Connecticut. The right was immediately formed by Lieutenant-Colonel S.H. Perkins, and the Regiment three times formed under a severe cross-fire. Having received orders to support General Kimball, I reported to him and was ordered to take a position near a stone wall and to hold it. This I did with the 14th Connecticut alone, until ordered to advance the 14th to support Colonel Brooke who commanded the First Brigade—Richardson’s Division. I took the position assigned and remained until further orders. The 14th Connecticut was here, shelled by the enemy, until ordered by General Hancock to the front, which position the 14th held for 36-hours, constantly harassed by the enemy. My Brigade captured 2 stand of colors, 2 captains, 7 lieutenants, and about 400 privates, who were turned over to the provost-marshal at Boonsborough. Besides wounding many field officers of the enemy, we also took over 400 stand of arms, which were turned over to the ordnance officer. I attribute our success in a great measure to the constant communication with the commanding general through the day, as well as to the unsurpassed bravery of our men. The men in my Brigade were all new troops, hastily raised, and without drill or experience, and although under fire for the first time, behaved with great gallantry. In front of the last position held by the 14th Connecticut, more than 1,000 of the enemy lie slain. My loss in killed, wounded, and missing is 529.”
>Lieutenant-Colonel Sanford H. Perkins says something similar: “We broke bivouac at camp near Keedysville, Maryland on the morning of September, 17th and marched two hours by flank, when we formed line of battle and moved forward a distance of about one-half mile. When we became engaged, our position being in a corn field west of William Roulette’s farmhouse, the enemy occupying a position on the summit of a hill to our front. The 5th Maryland Regiment, being slightly to our advance, I reserved my fire until they broke, which threw three companies of my right wing into confusion, when we opened fire from the left and proceeded to rally the right, which having been effected, we held our position under a severe cross-fire for nearly 3 hours. During the time above, my right and center were broken twice, but rallied on the colors and formed in good order, and when ordered to retire, moved from the field with precision. We then took a position near a stone wall, east of the farmhouse, holding the same until ordered to support Colonel Brooke. During this movement, while marching by flank, a shell was thrown into our ranks, killing several of our men. The ranks were at once closed, the Regiment moved forward at quick time and in good order. Where all behaved so well it may seem invidious to particularize…..Captain Gibbons of Company B (Daniel’s Company) deserves notice, who finding the farmhouse occupied by a large force of the enemy, ordered his Company to advance and fire, scattering them and driving a portion of them into the cellar, where by, closing the door, a large number of them were captured. As you are aware, our men, hastily raised and without drill, behaved like Veterans, and fully maintained the honor of the Union and our native State.”
After Antietam and Before Fredericksburg
Afterward, the Army of the Potomac had an opportunity for rest and recuperation. The Army, though jaded and worn by the terrible experience of the week, would however, have responded to a call for a further attack cheerfully.
The men of the Regiment went over the ground and viewed the havoc of the battle. In consideration for the Regiment’s service at the front, the men were relieved from the disagreeable duty of helping to bury the dead, though some of the men assisted anyway.
Saturday afternoon there was an inspection of the Regiment in common with the entire army.
On Sunday religious services were held in the beautiful oak grove where the Regiment was bivouacked, with flag-draped drums for a pulpit and the inspiring music of the band serving as church bells and orchestra. This was the first religious service in the field, few have been held under such circumstances and none will forget that impressive occasion. During Sunday, a ration of fresh beef was served, which was the second since leaving Hartford. All the rations the Regiment had during the week since reaching Antietam had been four issues of hardtack, coffee, sugar, and salt pork.
On Monday, September 22nd, the Regiment started on its march to Harper’s Ferry, fourteen miles directly south, moving to the Hagerstown Turnpike, passing the battered and shot riddled Dunkard Church and through Sharpsburg. The march was over a dusty road. The day was excessively hot and many of the men felt it a hard task to keep up. Officers and men were falling out every mile.
About 2 pm, they arrived opposite Harper’s Ferry and found the bridges burned, making it necessary to ford the river. The river was a wide brawling stream with a rapid current, but not more than 2 or 3 feet in depth. It was an animating scene, the band leading the way playing “Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel,” “Way Down South in Dixie,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “Old Virginia.” Every now and then some unfortunate wight would be carried off his feet by the current or would slide on the slippery rocks that formed the bottom of the river and would go under the water, blowing like a porpoise and dripping wet, emerging to the infinite amusement of his comrades. It was merry work crossing the stream and there was a feeling of exhilaration as they passed by the ruins of the arsenal where John Brown had fought so stoutly, the band playing “Glory Hallelujah.”
After leaving Harper’s Ferry the column marched through the town of Bolivar until it reached Bolivar Heights where they encamped about 2 miles from the town, which is nestled in a valley at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers between three tremendous hills—a most beautiful view. The Rebel campfires were in view about 8 miles distant.
The experience of the week, and the scanty supply of food, overcoats, and blankets caused great suffering.
Detachments from the Regiment were assigned to duty here and there guarding government stores and doing picket duty.
My note—picket duty: Picket - An advance outpost or guard for a large force was called a picket. Ordered to form a scattered line far in advance of the main army's encampment, but within supporting distance, a picket guard was made up of a lieutenant, 2 sergeants, 4 corporals, and 40 privates from each regiment.
During the stay at Bolivar Heights, there was much sickness in the camp. Many times, more than 200 men being under the doctor’s care. This was owing to bad water, lack of proper food, and no overcoats or blankets, and the nights were cold and frosty. At least the Shenandoah River was relatively near, where the men could go to bathe.
The water here was so bad, and with other conditions, caused a great amount of sickness and eventually a large number of deaths. Chronic diarrhea was prevalent.
The Routine of the 14th Regiments Life
At 5:30 in the morning the men were aroused by the roll of the drums. They would beat only 4 or 5 minutes and the man who was not in the ranks, dressed and ready for roll call when the beat ceased, was reported to headquarters for punishment. Calling the roll took only about 5 minutes, then they were dismissed to get their own breakfast as best they might. The main difficulty was the long distance and steep road over which they had to go for water and wood.
At 7:30 am, the bugle sounded “Surgeon’s Call” when all the invalids went down to have an interview with the doctor. The doctor felt the pulse of his patient, looked at his tongue, punched him in the ribs, and if he though him not so sick as the invalid represented himself, he swore at him and bade him off. If however, the doctor thought him really unwell, he gave him a nauseous pill before dismissing him. This pill came to be known among the men as “No. 9.”
My note— the excessive “prescribing” of “No. 9” pills by military doctors resulted in the troops mockingly depicting it as a cure-all for the common soldier’s many ailments. In reality, the “No. 9” was “a universal laxative pill, given when no other remedy was deemed suitable. It gave rise to the bingo call ‘Doctor’s orders – number nine.’ ”
At 8 am was guard mounting. Some 30 men were chosen from the various Companies to act as sentries for the ensuing 24-hours. They were marched out, paraded, clothing and equipment inspected, and marched off to their posts to the sound of music.
At 8:30 am the Regiment was drilled either by Company or Battalion, usually for about 2 hours. From 11 am until 3 pm, the men did not have much to do except to get dinner. From 3 pm until 5:30 pm, they were drilled again and wound up the duties of the day by dress-parade. At 8 pm was roll-call and at 9 pm the bugle was sounded to extinguish lights.
The retreat call at sundown was really enjoyed and oftentimes the fine band of the Regiment would extend it into an evening concert. The almost universal time-killer in camp was cards. Various games were played, but poker was king. A game of the latter could be found in almost every Company street, officers as well as men taking a “twist at the tiger.”
There was no question about the morals of the Regiment, and it may be a joke, but has some significance when it is said that the Colonel offered a prize of $5 for anyone that heard a man swear.
The Regiment left Bolivar Heights on the morning of October 30th, crossing the Shenandoah on a pontoon bridge and taking a hilly road through the mountains a few miles, and then bivouacked about 8 miles from Harper’s Ferry, between that place and Leesburg.
There was something inspiring in the sight of the great army on the march. The long trains of wagons, the shining brass pieces of artillery, the horses with scarlet blankets, the long steadily moving columns of men, the gleaming steel weapons and the echoing bugle calls rouse the martial spirit in a man if he has any.
Then at night the campfires, shining through the darkness over all the surrounding hills, make the landscape look like a view of some great city in the evening; and the little groups of men around the fires, the stacks of arms, and the horses grazing, make groups that a painter might well copy.
November 1st the march was continued down the Louden Valley about 3 miles. Sunday, November 2nd, the march was continued in the direction of Snicker’s Gap, where they encamped for the night. Few of the Regiment will forget that encampment. It was a bright moonlight night and the men had been sent to these heights to keep the Confederates from passing through the Gap. Picket lines were thrown out. The view was a grand one as on the one side could be seen the Louden Valley along which the Union troops were camped and on the other side could be seen the Confederate Army in the Shenandoah Valley. The lights of the camp fires of each army were plainly visible.
November 2nd the Regiment went into bivouac at Uppersville. There was evidence that the enemy’s cavalry were close in front and were falling back upon the advance. Their campfires were still smoking and it was apparent they had made a hasty retreat. Many of the men who had fallen out from various causes rejoined the Regiment and at this time it numbered about 450 men, all told. A portion of the Regiment was detached to guard an ammunition train, the rest moving on and bivouacking about 10 miles from the battlefield of Bull Run.
Novbember 7th the march was resumed and the Regiment had their first experience of snow in the South. November 8th the march was through Warrenton, Virginia with colors flying and band playing. We encamped on the outskirts of town. It was while here that the Regiment learned of the removal of McClellan, he being superseded by General Burnside. The Regiment remained near Warrenton until the 15th, when after a hard march of about a dozen miles, they bivouacked with the rest of the division on a great plain not far from Warrenton Junction.
On November 16th Company A was detached to guard a cross-road and spent the day there while the entire Corps marches past, and in the middle of the afternoon they started and overtook them, after marching about 10 miles, and encamped about 2 miles in the rear of Falmouth. They remained there until 3 pm of the 18th, when they took up the line of march for Belle plain. General French was at the head of the column, and was saluted with cheers. He swung his hat and was cheered in return and really seemed sorry to see the regiment go. General French was familiarly known among the boys as “General Blinkie.” A nickname applied to him from the peculiar blinking of his eyes which seemed to move all the muscles in his face, they moving up and down like shutters of a blind.
The march was resumed about 7:30 on the morning of the 19th. Colonel Morris became bewildered and marched them round and round, through woods, across steams and through farmer’s dooryards. The rain fell heavily and the Regiment crossed the same stream four times and every now and then would about face and take the back track, and were some 5 hours marching a distance of 4 miles. On reaching Belle Plain the Regiment was marched and countermarched several times over the ground at length. The worst possible spot having been selected, the men went into camp about dark, wet, muddy and dispirited.
The condition of the Regiment at Belle Plain was most uncomfortable. The camp was situated amid swamps and mud flats, their blankets and clothing were wet through and their fires could not be made to burn. Detachments from the Regiment as well as the Brigade were sent out to unload barges and steamboats. Sergeant E.B Tyler of Company B says:
“The march through the Louden Valley and from thence to Falmouth, the sickly disagreeable, non-soldier-like experience of Belle Plain where our men, wholly unused to such work, were detailed to do duty as stevedores and long-shore man, some slight of frame and weakened in muscle by soldier fare (food), staggering from the barges under loads they could scarcely carry, while a big, fat, lazy negro stood by, sleepily mouthing out something that was supposed to be tally, although almost unintelligible to our men. This and the apparent inability of our surgeons to cope with the various diseases and ailment that were reducing our muster roll day by day; the full import of the differences in condition, as well as apparent importance in the esteem of the government between officers and men, especially those officers of high rank: these were things that tried the mettle and patience of our soldiers; so recently citizens, with all the rights and privileges of American citizenship, more than facing Confederate musket and cannon.”
Afterward, the Army of the Potomac had an opportunity for rest and recuperation. The Army, though jaded and worn by the terrible experience of the week, would however, have responded to a call for a further attack cheerfully.
The men of the Regiment went over the ground and viewed the havoc of the battle. In consideration for the Regiment’s service at the front, the men were relieved from the disagreeable duty of helping to bury the dead, though some of the men assisted anyway.
Saturday afternoon there was an inspection of the Regiment in common with the entire army.
On Sunday religious services were held in the beautiful oak grove where the Regiment was bivouacked, with flag-draped drums for a pulpit and the inspiring music of the band serving as church bells and orchestra. This was the first religious service in the field, few have been held under such circumstances and none will forget that impressive occasion. During Sunday, a ration of fresh beef was served, which was the second since leaving Hartford. All the rations the Regiment had during the week since reaching Antietam had been four issues of hardtack, coffee, sugar, and salt pork.
On Monday, September 22nd, the Regiment started on its march to Harper’s Ferry, fourteen miles directly south, moving to the Hagerstown Turnpike, passing the battered and shot riddled Dunkard Church and through Sharpsburg. The march was over a dusty road. The day was excessively hot and many of the men felt it a hard task to keep up. Officers and men were falling out every mile.
About 2 pm, they arrived opposite Harper’s Ferry and found the bridges burned, making it necessary to ford the river. The river was a wide brawling stream with a rapid current, but not more than 2 or 3 feet in depth. It was an animating scene, the band leading the way playing “Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel,” “Way Down South in Dixie,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “Old Virginia.” Every now and then some unfortunate wight would be carried off his feet by the current or would slide on the slippery rocks that formed the bottom of the river and would go under the water, blowing like a porpoise and dripping wet, emerging to the infinite amusement of his comrades. It was merry work crossing the stream and there was a feeling of exhilaration as they passed by the ruins of the arsenal where John Brown had fought so stoutly, the band playing “Glory Hallelujah.”
After leaving Harper’s Ferry the column marched through the town of Bolivar until it reached Bolivar Heights where they encamped about 2 miles from the town, which is nestled in a valley at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers between three tremendous hills—a most beautiful view. The Rebel campfires were in view about 8 miles distant.
The experience of the week, and the scanty supply of food, overcoats, and blankets caused great suffering.
Detachments from the Regiment were assigned to duty here and there guarding government stores and doing picket duty.
My note—picket duty: Picket - An advance outpost or guard for a large force was called a picket. Ordered to form a scattered line far in advance of the main army's encampment, but within supporting distance, a picket guard was made up of a lieutenant, 2 sergeants, 4 corporals, and 40 privates from each regiment.
During the stay at Bolivar Heights, there was much sickness in the camp. Many times, more than 200 men being under the doctor’s care. This was owing to bad water, lack of proper food, and no overcoats or blankets, and the nights were cold and frosty. At least the Shenandoah River was relatively near, where the men could go to bathe.
The water here was so bad, and with other conditions, caused a great amount of sickness and eventually a large number of deaths. Chronic diarrhea was prevalent.
The Routine of the 14th Regiments Life
At 5:30 in the morning the men were aroused by the roll of the drums. They would beat only 4 or 5 minutes and the man who was not in the ranks, dressed and ready for roll call when the beat ceased, was reported to headquarters for punishment. Calling the roll took only about 5 minutes, then they were dismissed to get their own breakfast as best they might. The main difficulty was the long distance and steep road over which they had to go for water and wood.
At 7:30 am, the bugle sounded “Surgeon’s Call” when all the invalids went down to have an interview with the doctor. The doctor felt the pulse of his patient, looked at his tongue, punched him in the ribs, and if he though him not so sick as the invalid represented himself, he swore at him and bade him off. If however, the doctor thought him really unwell, he gave him a nauseous pill before dismissing him. This pill came to be known among the men as “No. 9.”
My note— the excessive “prescribing” of “No. 9” pills by military doctors resulted in the troops mockingly depicting it as a cure-all for the common soldier’s many ailments. In reality, the “No. 9” was “a universal laxative pill, given when no other remedy was deemed suitable. It gave rise to the bingo call ‘Doctor’s orders – number nine.’ ”
At 8 am was guard mounting. Some 30 men were chosen from the various Companies to act as sentries for the ensuing 24-hours. They were marched out, paraded, clothing and equipment inspected, and marched off to their posts to the sound of music.
At 8:30 am the Regiment was drilled either by Company or Battalion, usually for about 2 hours. From 11 am until 3 pm, the men did not have much to do except to get dinner. From 3 pm until 5:30 pm, they were drilled again and wound up the duties of the day by dress-parade. At 8 pm was roll-call and at 9 pm the bugle was sounded to extinguish lights.
The retreat call at sundown was really enjoyed and oftentimes the fine band of the Regiment would extend it into an evening concert. The almost universal time-killer in camp was cards. Various games were played, but poker was king. A game of the latter could be found in almost every Company street, officers as well as men taking a “twist at the tiger.”
There was no question about the morals of the Regiment, and it may be a joke, but has some significance when it is said that the Colonel offered a prize of $5 for anyone that heard a man swear.
The Regiment left Bolivar Heights on the morning of October 30th, crossing the Shenandoah on a pontoon bridge and taking a hilly road through the mountains a few miles, and then bivouacked about 8 miles from Harper’s Ferry, between that place and Leesburg.
There was something inspiring in the sight of the great army on the march. The long trains of wagons, the shining brass pieces of artillery, the horses with scarlet blankets, the long steadily moving columns of men, the gleaming steel weapons and the echoing bugle calls rouse the martial spirit in a man if he has any.
Then at night the campfires, shining through the darkness over all the surrounding hills, make the landscape look like a view of some great city in the evening; and the little groups of men around the fires, the stacks of arms, and the horses grazing, make groups that a painter might well copy.
November 1st the march was continued down the Louden Valley about 3 miles. Sunday, November 2nd, the march was continued in the direction of Snicker’s Gap, where they encamped for the night. Few of the Regiment will forget that encampment. It was a bright moonlight night and the men had been sent to these heights to keep the Confederates from passing through the Gap. Picket lines were thrown out. The view was a grand one as on the one side could be seen the Louden Valley along which the Union troops were camped and on the other side could be seen the Confederate Army in the Shenandoah Valley. The lights of the camp fires of each army were plainly visible.
November 2nd the Regiment went into bivouac at Uppersville. There was evidence that the enemy’s cavalry were close in front and were falling back upon the advance. Their campfires were still smoking and it was apparent they had made a hasty retreat. Many of the men who had fallen out from various causes rejoined the Regiment and at this time it numbered about 450 men, all told. A portion of the Regiment was detached to guard an ammunition train, the rest moving on and bivouacking about 10 miles from the battlefield of Bull Run.
Novbember 7th the march was resumed and the Regiment had their first experience of snow in the South. November 8th the march was through Warrenton, Virginia with colors flying and band playing. We encamped on the outskirts of town. It was while here that the Regiment learned of the removal of McClellan, he being superseded by General Burnside. The Regiment remained near Warrenton until the 15th, when after a hard march of about a dozen miles, they bivouacked with the rest of the division on a great plain not far from Warrenton Junction.
On November 16th Company A was detached to guard a cross-road and spent the day there while the entire Corps marches past, and in the middle of the afternoon they started and overtook them, after marching about 10 miles, and encamped about 2 miles in the rear of Falmouth. They remained there until 3 pm of the 18th, when they took up the line of march for Belle plain. General French was at the head of the column, and was saluted with cheers. He swung his hat and was cheered in return and really seemed sorry to see the regiment go. General French was familiarly known among the boys as “General Blinkie.” A nickname applied to him from the peculiar blinking of his eyes which seemed to move all the muscles in his face, they moving up and down like shutters of a blind.
The march was resumed about 7:30 on the morning of the 19th. Colonel Morris became bewildered and marched them round and round, through woods, across steams and through farmer’s dooryards. The rain fell heavily and the Regiment crossed the same stream four times and every now and then would about face and take the back track, and were some 5 hours marching a distance of 4 miles. On reaching Belle Plain the Regiment was marched and countermarched several times over the ground at length. The worst possible spot having been selected, the men went into camp about dark, wet, muddy and dispirited.
The condition of the Regiment at Belle Plain was most uncomfortable. The camp was situated amid swamps and mud flats, their blankets and clothing were wet through and their fires could not be made to burn. Detachments from the Regiment as well as the Brigade were sent out to unload barges and steamboats. Sergeant E.B Tyler of Company B says:
“The march through the Louden Valley and from thence to Falmouth, the sickly disagreeable, non-soldier-like experience of Belle Plain where our men, wholly unused to such work, were detailed to do duty as stevedores and long-shore man, some slight of frame and weakened in muscle by soldier fare (food), staggering from the barges under loads they could scarcely carry, while a big, fat, lazy negro stood by, sleepily mouthing out something that was supposed to be tally, although almost unintelligible to our men. This and the apparent inability of our surgeons to cope with the various diseases and ailment that were reducing our muster roll day by day; the full import of the differences in condition, as well as apparent importance in the esteem of the government between officers and men, especially those officers of high rank: these were things that tried the mettle and patience of our soldiers; so recently citizens, with all the rights and privileges of American citizenship, more than facing Confederate musket and cannon.”
By December 1st, the condition of the camp had somewhat improved. December 6th the Regiment was ordered to break camp at Belle Plain and join the army on the Rappahannock. The march was a wearisome and trying one. Dr. Levi Jewett says, “I remember that march. It was a cold day, the mud deep and stick and a cold rain fell nearly all day, toward night becoming mixed with snow and hail. It was pitch-dark when we reached our destination and we were told to go into the pine woods for the night. Heavy masses of snow were falling from the trees and there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground. It was a dismal place—not much to eat and no way to make fires. There was not much sleep that night. Colonel Morris, with the aid of pioneers, had made a fire at headquarters, where some of us tried to get warm. It seemed as if half the boys would be dead before morning, but they all seemed to come out bright next day and went to cleaning up the ground and making a comfortable camp.” Here they remained until the evening of December 10th.
The Battle of Fredericksburg (aka: Massacre at Fredericksburg)
It chills the blood to follow the experiences of the 14th Regiment during the short time it has been in served. The long march from Fort Ethan Allen to Antietam, the terrible experiences there, the tedious march to Bolivar Heights, the lack of proper food and clothing, the wearisome march to Belle Plain, the unsoldier-like and disorderly condition of the camp, and the heavy work as stevedores, make one wonder how any man could live to reach his native state.
The Regiment is now encamped at Falmouth, about 3 miles above Fredericksburg.
Fredericksburg lies on the south side of the river. The river runs from northwest to southeast. It had a few mills which were fed by a causeway running along in the rear of the town between town and the Confederate fornications. This causeway was from 10 to 15 feet wide, quite deep, and spanned by a number of little bridges, from which the planks were removed at the time of the battle. (Note: one of these bridges is where Daniel was mortally wounded).
The town rambles along the river front for about 2 miles. A high ridge directly in rear of the town was called Marye’s Heights, which encircle the city back some 500 yards, and are the termination of a plateau which rises from one 150 to 200 feet in an abrupt terrace from the plain upon which the city stands. These heights form a half-circle from the river above to a point below the city some little distance from the river, and are most admirable adapted for defensive purposes. The Rebel batteries, numbering at least one hundred guns, were massed on these height, and covered not only every street leading out from the city, but every square foot of the ground of the plain below. A third of the way down the terrace was an earthwork filled with infantry while at its foot ran a stone wall extending southward from the cemetery above the city and was continued by an earthwork around the whole circle. Behind this stone wall was massed a double line of Confederate infantry. To enter either street leading out to those heights was to face the concentrated fire of that mass of artillery and the deadly world of those three lines of infantry. The semi-circular formation of the high ground enabled the Confederate artillery to enfilade the Federal army both at the right and left.
The Battle of Fredericksburg (aka: Massacre at Fredericksburg)
It chills the blood to follow the experiences of the 14th Regiment during the short time it has been in served. The long march from Fort Ethan Allen to Antietam, the terrible experiences there, the tedious march to Bolivar Heights, the lack of proper food and clothing, the wearisome march to Belle Plain, the unsoldier-like and disorderly condition of the camp, and the heavy work as stevedores, make one wonder how any man could live to reach his native state.
The Regiment is now encamped at Falmouth, about 3 miles above Fredericksburg.
Fredericksburg lies on the south side of the river. The river runs from northwest to southeast. It had a few mills which were fed by a causeway running along in the rear of the town between town and the Confederate fornications. This causeway was from 10 to 15 feet wide, quite deep, and spanned by a number of little bridges, from which the planks were removed at the time of the battle. (Note: one of these bridges is where Daniel was mortally wounded).
The town rambles along the river front for about 2 miles. A high ridge directly in rear of the town was called Marye’s Heights, which encircle the city back some 500 yards, and are the termination of a plateau which rises from one 150 to 200 feet in an abrupt terrace from the plain upon which the city stands. These heights form a half-circle from the river above to a point below the city some little distance from the river, and are most admirable adapted for defensive purposes. The Rebel batteries, numbering at least one hundred guns, were massed on these height, and covered not only every street leading out from the city, but every square foot of the ground of the plain below. A third of the way down the terrace was an earthwork filled with infantry while at its foot ran a stone wall extending southward from the cemetery above the city and was continued by an earthwork around the whole circle. Behind this stone wall was massed a double line of Confederate infantry. To enter either street leading out to those heights was to face the concentrated fire of that mass of artillery and the deadly world of those three lines of infantry. The semi-circular formation of the high ground enabled the Confederate artillery to enfilade the Federal army both at the right and left.
My note: Definition of Enfilade: a volley of gunfire directed along a line from end to end.
The long delay in making any move to cross by the Federal forces gave the Confederates ample time to strengthen what was already an impregnable entrenchment.
Many of Burnsides generals advised against the attack, among whom was General Sumner of the Second Corps (Daniel was in this Corp). One wonders whether it was the obstinacy of Burnside or pressure from Washington impelled him to make this attack which resulted in such a fearful sacrifice. Certain if he was a military man of strength, he must have known that it was impracticable and hopeless.
About 3 am Thursday morning, December 11th, work was begun throwing over the pontoon bridges.
We left the Regiment near Falmouth on the evening of December 10th. About 2 am Thursday morning in camp all was bustle and animation, fires were blazing, men were hurrying to and fro, for the Sergeant-Major had just been around with the order, “Strike tents, pack up and be ready at six o’clock for a march and a fight.” The men hastened to obey and just as the day began to dawn, while they were finishing their breakfasts, the boom of heavy guns commenced, indicating the ball had opened. The clear ringing voice of the lieutenant-colonel was heard giving the order to fall in and in 10 minutes the Regiment was in motion. They took an indirect route to avoid being seen by the enemy and at 10 am arrived at a place about ½ mile in the rear of the Major Lacey house, the headquarters of General Sumner. There the Division halted as the pontoons were not yet laid. The Second Brigade was now under the command of Colonel Palmer of the 108th New York (Colonel Morris was left at Belle Plain, sick). The 132nd Pennsylvania had been added to the Brigade.
The experiences had told heavily on the ranks of the Regiment. While they took into the engagement at Antietam 800 men, only 300 muskets left Falmouth.
Toward nightfall, there was a loud and long continued cheer as a signal that the bridges had been successfully laid. The order forward was given and the Regiment passing through a narrow ravine moved toward the brink of the river, which they nearly reached when the order was countermanded and the Regiment marched back and bivouacked in the underbrush. This underbrush was green and wet and it was with great difficulty that fires were made to cook the coffee and rations.
Friday morning, the 12th dawned clear and calm, and the Regiment was early on the move toward the Rappahannock, passing over the bridge whose southern end was a the foot of Hawkes Street. From Hawkes Street the Regiment turned to the left into Sophia Street, the first street from the river and running parallel with it. The town was practically abandoned and here they remained under arms the rest of the day, the roll being called as often as every hour to prevent the men from straying from the ranks. (My note: see letter excerpts below about this “preventing the men from straying” bit.
There came over the regiment a gloomy and solemn frame of mind. There was something unnatural in the quiet of the enemy and it was no longer believed they had retreated. The range of hills at the back of the town had a grim and threatening appearance and the suspense began to tell upon the men. Before night the Regiment was moved to Caroline Street, halting on the north side of the street, the right resting on Hawkes Street and the left on Faquier Street. Night came on and the men were quartered in the houses in that vicinity, but were allowed no fires. At night, many of the men rested in beds with one or two comrades, the first they had occupied since they left Connecticut.
***
My note: according to what the author of the “History of the 14th Regiment” wrote above, it would seem that the 14th Regiment didn’t partake of the notorious looting of the town of Fredericksburg. However, it’s known that Union forces shelled the entire city and then crossed over the river and looted all the empty homes.
It’s interesting to note that a soldier and a drummer boy of the 14th Connecticut paint a different picture through their correspondence. (Bold is mine).
14th Connecticut Sergeant Major, John Pelton says, “On the following morning (Friday) the remainder of Sumner’s corps crossed at a double quick. We entered the city without molestation and remained there all day. We ravished every house in the city and found many desirable articles.” (The remainder of this letter can be read in the December 24, 1863 Middletown newspaper, “The Constitution.”)
And 14-year-old Lucien Welles Hubbard, drummer for the 14th Connecticut says, “Dear mother, We have been in a great battle. Our regiment went in the battle with 362 men and came out with 105. Our. Lt. Col, was wounded and our major. We had 1 Lieut. killed and all the line officers except 4 are wounded. Our company lost two killed and considerable many wounded. George Carlock was killed. Fred Standish was wounded in the hand. We had a good time while we were in Fredericksburg, We rummaged the houses for …. sugar, butter, jellies, tea coffee and all the dishes you can think of. I made some slapjacks and I got some dried apples and made some apple dumplings and I found a piece of fresh pork and made a pork pie. …. We live high and slept in a cellar. I received your photograph and I never saw a better likeness in my life. I send you an old copper coin I found in Fredericksburg.”
The long delay in making any move to cross by the Federal forces gave the Confederates ample time to strengthen what was already an impregnable entrenchment.
Many of Burnsides generals advised against the attack, among whom was General Sumner of the Second Corps (Daniel was in this Corp). One wonders whether it was the obstinacy of Burnside or pressure from Washington impelled him to make this attack which resulted in such a fearful sacrifice. Certain if he was a military man of strength, he must have known that it was impracticable and hopeless.
About 3 am Thursday morning, December 11th, work was begun throwing over the pontoon bridges.
We left the Regiment near Falmouth on the evening of December 10th. About 2 am Thursday morning in camp all was bustle and animation, fires were blazing, men were hurrying to and fro, for the Sergeant-Major had just been around with the order, “Strike tents, pack up and be ready at six o’clock for a march and a fight.” The men hastened to obey and just as the day began to dawn, while they were finishing their breakfasts, the boom of heavy guns commenced, indicating the ball had opened. The clear ringing voice of the lieutenant-colonel was heard giving the order to fall in and in 10 minutes the Regiment was in motion. They took an indirect route to avoid being seen by the enemy and at 10 am arrived at a place about ½ mile in the rear of the Major Lacey house, the headquarters of General Sumner. There the Division halted as the pontoons were not yet laid. The Second Brigade was now under the command of Colonel Palmer of the 108th New York (Colonel Morris was left at Belle Plain, sick). The 132nd Pennsylvania had been added to the Brigade.
 |
| The area where 14th Connecticut crossed into Fredericksburg on a pontoon bridge |
The experiences had told heavily on the ranks of the Regiment. While they took into the engagement at Antietam 800 men, only 300 muskets left Falmouth.
Toward nightfall, there was a loud and long continued cheer as a signal that the bridges had been successfully laid. The order forward was given and the Regiment passing through a narrow ravine moved toward the brink of the river, which they nearly reached when the order was countermanded and the Regiment marched back and bivouacked in the underbrush. This underbrush was green and wet and it was with great difficulty that fires were made to cook the coffee and rations.
Friday morning, the 12th dawned clear and calm, and the Regiment was early on the move toward the Rappahannock, passing over the bridge whose southern end was a the foot of Hawkes Street. From Hawkes Street the Regiment turned to the left into Sophia Street, the first street from the river and running parallel with it. The town was practically abandoned and here they remained under arms the rest of the day, the roll being called as often as every hour to prevent the men from straying from the ranks. (My note: see letter excerpts below about this “preventing the men from straying” bit.
There came over the regiment a gloomy and solemn frame of mind. There was something unnatural in the quiet of the enemy and it was no longer believed they had retreated. The range of hills at the back of the town had a grim and threatening appearance and the suspense began to tell upon the men. Before night the Regiment was moved to Caroline Street, halting on the north side of the street, the right resting on Hawkes Street and the left on Faquier Street. Night came on and the men were quartered in the houses in that vicinity, but were allowed no fires. At night, many of the men rested in beds with one or two comrades, the first they had occupied since they left Connecticut.
***
My note: according to what the author of the “History of the 14th Regiment” wrote above, it would seem that the 14th Regiment didn’t partake of the notorious looting of the town of Fredericksburg. However, it’s known that Union forces shelled the entire city and then crossed over the river and looted all the empty homes.
It’s interesting to note that a soldier and a drummer boy of the 14th Connecticut paint a different picture through their correspondence. (Bold is mine).
14th Connecticut Sergeant Major, John Pelton says, “On the following morning (Friday) the remainder of Sumner’s corps crossed at a double quick. We entered the city without molestation and remained there all day. We ravished every house in the city and found many desirable articles.” (The remainder of this letter can be read in the December 24, 1863 Middletown newspaper, “The Constitution.”)
And 14-year-old Lucien Welles Hubbard, drummer for the 14th Connecticut says, “Dear mother, We have been in a great battle. Our regiment went in the battle with 362 men and came out with 105. Our. Lt. Col, was wounded and our major. We had 1 Lieut. killed and all the line officers except 4 are wounded. Our company lost two killed and considerable many wounded. George Carlock was killed. Fred Standish was wounded in the hand. We had a good time while we were in Fredericksburg, We rummaged the houses for …. sugar, butter, jellies, tea coffee and all the dishes you can think of. I made some slapjacks and I got some dried apples and made some apple dumplings and I found a piece of fresh pork and made a pork pie. …. We live high and slept in a cellar. I received your photograph and I never saw a better likeness in my life. I send you an old copper coin I found in Fredericksburg.”
 |
| The looting of Fredericksburg by Union Soldiers |
Also in regard to the Union looting, one Fredericksburg resident says this about returning to her home after the battle: “…the Federals did as much damage as possible. One room was piled more than halfway to the ceiling with feathers from beds ripped open, every mirror had been run through with a bayonet, a panel of each door cut out, furniture nearly all broken up, the china broken into bits, and everything of value taken away.”
Side note: In the spring of 1864, drummer for the 14th Connecticut, Lucien W. Hubbard, suffered from chronic diarrhea. Severely weakened, he died from the disease on April 16, 1864. He was about 16 years old.
End of my note.
***
The morning of the 13th was foggy and the position of the enemy could not be seen nor our own guns on the opposite side of the river. It was generally rumored in the Regiment that it would be the Second Brigade that would first attack the stronghold of the Confederates. This was no mistake. About 9 am the Regiment was suddenly ordered to fall in and obeyed, leaving their half-cooked salt beef on the fire. They marched to Princess Anne Street and halted between the church and court house, the former which was used as a hospital.
It was here that the Regiment was ordered to prime and fix bayonets. Shells came crashing down into the city, tearing down brick walls and scattering death and destruction around. One would fall amid a group of men, burst with noise, and in a few moments pale and mangled forms with bloody garments would be carried by in silence.
At noon, “Forward 14th” was again the word and they moved down the street, sometimes on the double-quick to the depot, turning square to the right on to one of the only two bridges by which they could cross the canal and gain the plain in front of the enemy’s position. The firing of a dozen Rebel guns came to a focus on each of these two points. The path was narrow and uneven and the ranks a little disordered. Across the causeway they filed and to the right near a stone wall, behind which a number of wounded lay. Some of the faces were already white with strange pallor of death. Still on and on, out into the open field under the full fire of the enemy’s guns.
Here the Regimental line was reformed and the men ordered to lie down. While lying here several shells burst directly over the left wing of the Regiment, causing much suffering in their ranks. By some mistake, the Regiment had formed in the rear of another Regiment and accordingly the 14th had to about face, march back a few rods, face to the front, and then lie down again. The Regiment showed much steadiness under such heavy fire. Soon the order came to rise and move forward again on the double-quick. This brought the Regiment to the very front just under the heights occupied by the enemy’s artillery and very close to the sunken road in which were posted the Rebel infantry.
“Into a slaughter-pen indeed, were the men going, but with brave hearts they pushed forward.”
*************
// Excerpt from the book, “The Fredericksburg Campaign,” by Francis Augustin O’Reilly //
Right Grand Division (General Sumner)
>Second Army Corps (General Couch)
>First Division
>Second Division
>Third Division (General Palmer)
My Note: Each Division consisted of about three Brigades, and each Brigade consistent of several Regiments. Daniel Otis was in the Third Division of the Second Brigade under Colonel Palmer.
Palmer’s Brigade had a spent the previous night bivouacked near the upper pontoon crossing. General French shifted it to Princess Anne Street where it connected with Andrews Brigade north of Hanover Street. The 14th Connecticut formed on the left near the courthouse. The 130th Pennsylvania held the center, with its right resting on George Street. The 108th New York formed just north of George Street.
Colonel Mason and his officers identified several exit routes from the city and examined the millrace that girded the backside of Fredericksburg. The race served as a spillway for the canal north of the city, and it ran around Fredericksburg. The millrace split near the railroad on the south end of the city, with one course going underground to the river by Marye’s mill, the other flowing southward into Hazel run. The sluiceway had walls lined with stone and wooden boards, and bottom five feet deep and 15 feet wide. Only three bridges crossed the sluiceway: at Prussia Street, Hanover Street, and William Street. Confederate pickets guarded both sides of the stream at two bridges.
Andrew’s and Palmer’s Brigades had waited for orders near the city courthouse. The clock chimed noon as French sent his last two brigades into the battle. Andrew’s Brigade led the way, and Palmer’s followed it. Colonel Oliver Palmer commanded a triad of Regiments: 14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York. The 14th Connecticut joined Andrew’s right rear, near the bullet-pocked Saint George’s Episcopal Church. Many of the men welled with nervous excitement. “Waiting in suspense with such apprehension as came to them, seemed worse to endure than a dash upon the filed,” lamented a Connecticut soldier.
French briefed Andrews and Palmer before he sent them forward. He told Andrews to support Kimball’s Brigade and that Palmer would back him up. As soon as Andrews Brigade turned down Princess Anne Street, it dew fire immediately from Confederate artillery on Marye’s Heights. Their shells bowled through the column with terrifying effect. Andrews Brigade had barely moved before the leader of the 10th New York received a disfiguring wound to his head and neck. A shell exploded in Colonel John E. Bendix’s face and dropped him in a blood heap. Confederate shells often exploded against the buildings hurling shrapnel and bricks with equal velocity. Wounded men literally clogged the street. A shell burst left, a member of the 132nd Pennsylvania lying in the thoroughfare with his leg dangling by a bloody tendon. Andrews column came under a more destructive “hurricane of iron” when it entered Prussia Street. Federals darted across the millrace by a brickyard owned by the Mullens or Alers Family. A shell cleaved a 4th New York soldier in two and then exploded, killing and wounding another 11 men.
Eugene Cory of the 4th New York called this the “most terrific artillery fire we had ever faced.” Nearby, Pennsylvania John Kistler took a direct his that tore his arm off at the elbow. Most of Andrews Brigade hurried across the millrace and dipped behind the rise along the watercourse.
Oliver Palmer’s Brigade (Daniel Otis’brigade) traversed the same route out of the city (as described above). When Andrew’s men started down Princess Anne Street, Palmer’s officers ordered their men to fix bayonets. After a brief pause, the column lurched into motion. The Brigade marched to Prussia Street, hurrying across the exposed intersections. The 14th Connecticut led the way, with the 130th Pennsylvania and 108th New York in trace. Bursting shells and crashing walls engulfed the Brigade in smoke, dust, and noise. “Screaming shells shattered the roofs of many of the houses, scattering the debris over our heads.”
The Brigade turned into Prussia Street. Houses on the right protected the column of men until it reached the railroad depot, and “then the storm burst upon them.” Confederate artillery wreaked havoc with the Federals channeling through the choke point at the millrace. Colonel Palmer reported, “Their guns appeared to have the exact range of this passage.” The bottleneck slowed the advance and created an inviting target. A Connecticut soldier later recalled that “the missiles did murderous work.” Sergeant William B. Hincks of the 14th Connecticut wrote, “Canister shot went hopping around the depot yard and on the causeway like enormous marbles, and shells burst with a hideous crash on every side.”
Palmer’s Brigade hesitated at the sluiceway. A Pennsylvanian wrote that the bridge was a “most serious and embarrassing obstacle, and very disconcerting under a raking storm of projectiles.” “Our men fell like leaves,” recalled a New Yorker.
One shell tore off both of David Lincoln’s legs as he crossed the span. (This is the same shell that took Daniel Otis’ leg off. I'm not sure why the author passed over Daniel, failing to mention him.). Soldiers of the 14th Connecticut shied away in revulsion. Others stood transfixed by the spectacle. Lincoln smiled weakly, offering his comrades words of encouragement as they filed past. Following the Connecticut soldiers came the Pennsylvania and New Yorkers. “When crossing a sluice, I noticed several men standing still looking at something,” remembered a member of the 108th New York. To the latecomers Lincoln evenly intoned: “Pass on boys. Don’t stop to look at me.” At the same time, Captain William McLaughlin herded a portion of the 130th Pennsylvania onto the bridge. Shells carved huge gaps in his ranks. One of the shells decapitated Captain McLaughlin, splattering his brains over the company.
Converging artillery fire and nightmarish scenes like those of David Lincoln and McLaughlin unnerved some of the men. The 14th Connecticut’s advance degenerated into a chaotic shambles. Some of the 130th Pennsylvania cowered behind the railroad depot. When routed from their shelter, Union soldiers darted across the millrace and hid behind a brickyard. The 108th New York behaved the same way when artillery “swept the brave men away like chaff.” A New Yorker wrote, “The shells burst among them with awful havoc.”
More men might have fallen had not Lieutenant Colonel Sanford H. Perkins taken the initiative. Perkins, the 14th Connecticut, told the head of the paralyzed column to follow him. The broken ranks picked through the human debris and sidled to the right, under cover of the millrace depression. Filing up the ravine, the 14th Connecticut overlapped the left of Andrew’s Brigade, and arrived behind the 10th New York. Unable to find a spot in the line, they turned to re-trace their march. As Perkin’s men about-faced, the surrounding troops jeered them for leaving. The Regiment, however, quickly pivoted back into line on the left of the 10th New York and lay down. The rest of Palmer’s soldiers re-formed along the ravine. Some of them took cover behind a short stone wall overlooking the waterway.
Several Union soldiers saw a hot air balloon rise above Stafford Heights. Confederate artillery also descried the balloon and hurled several rounds at it, even though it floated well beyond their range. 14th Connecticut Lieutenant James L. Townsend blurted our impulsively, “They are firing at the balloon!” “Good God,” scoffed Captain Samuel H. Davis, “Townsend is afraid they were firing at the balloon. I should think somebody was firing at us!” Laughter rippled down the line. (Emphasis in original letter.)
“One may ask how such dangers can be faced,” reflected Frederick Hitchcock, the adjutant of the 132nd Pennsylvania. “The answer is, there are many things more to fear than death.” Hitchcock dreaded cowardice and failure to fulfill his duty more than Rebel cannonballs. The adjutant wrote, “This is duty. I’ll trust in God and do it. If I fall, I cannot die better.” Hitchcock probably whispered the sentiments of many of the men on the battlefield, North and South.
Shortly after Andrew’s assault, Palmer’s Brigade took up the attack. The men had endured 20 minutes of shelling along the millrace (where Daniel Otis was mortally wounded). From its position, the Brigade saw Andrew’s attack collapse. A 14th Connecticut soldier summarized the violent onset: “There was a rush, a cheer, a crash of musketry with a tempest of bullets driven straight at their breasts, and the line dissolved.”
At that moment, Palmer ordered his Brigade to dress ranks. The Brigade formed a line of battle 150 yards behind Andrew’s struggling command and somewhat to their left. The 14th Connecticut, laughing at Lieutenant James Townsend’s concern for the balloon, suddenly forgot its mirth. Officers stomped down the muddy line, growling, “Up and at ‘em.” Men clawed their way out of the bottoms, slipping and sliding on the mucky slope. Ranks closed, and Palmer’s Brigade launched its assault to take the hill.
My note: by this time Daniel Otis had already been mortally wounded. Nonetheless, the account continues on and this is what was going on around him:
Palmer’s three regiments: 14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York tramped forward in neat ranks and measured steps. Confederate artillery riddled the slow-paced newcomers. Southern guns north of the Orange Plank Road joined the Washington Artillery in shelling the attackers. Confederate prodigy E. Porter Alexander had promised General Longstreet earlier that a “chicken could not live on that field when we open on it.” Palmer’s soldiers attested to his effectiveness. Major Francis E. Pierce recounted charging through “a perfect shower of missiles warlike.” A Connecticut officer watches as his “men fell like pins in an alley before the well-aimed ball of a skillful bowler.” Private Henry Goddard wrote that shells “actually crushed the bones of men like glass.” The ranks instinctively closed the gaps and the lines pressed on.
When the Federals came closer, Confederate cannoneers switched from shell to canister. The shotgun-like blasts cut bloody swaths through the attackers. One enlisted man testified that the cannon “cut us all to pieces.” A Pennsylvanian soldier recounted, “Our men were stricken down by hundreds.” Fewer men surged forward with each cannon report, and the ruptured line started to flare across a wider front.
Cohesion or momentum abandoned Palmer’s brigade by the time it reached the left of Andrew’s brigade in the swale. The 130th Pennsylvania fired a sporadic volley and charged across the fairgrounds. The 14th Connecticut squeezed through holes in the fairgrounds fence and entered the square to the right of the Pennsylvanians. The 108th New York struck the southeast corner of the fairgrounds fence. No units had passed that far south before. The 14th Connecticut rumbled across the fairgrounds and Confederates dropped them by the dozens. Some of the Connecticut soldiers closed to within 150 yards of the Confederate wall, but by then, the attack had lost its drive. Union fire grew weaker until it ceased altogether at certain points. Lieutenant Charles Lyman charged ahead until he found himself alone. Everyone around him had been shot. “Bullets were flying very thick around me, and I had expectation of getting off that field alive.” He retreated to the swale with other survivors. Lieutenant Colonel Sanford H. Perkins raised his sword and cried, “Forward 14th!” just as a Confederate bullet ripped through his neck. Major Cyrus C. Clark fell at the same time, when a piece of shrapnel glanced off his side. Nursing the contusions, he limped off the field, leaving the 14th Connecticut to the command of Captain Samuel H. Davis. He ordered the 14th Connecticut to lie down along the east wall of the fairgrounds.
The 130th Pennsylvania stopped in the middle of the fairgrounds when the 14th Connecticut retired. The Pennsylvanians suffered a number of casualties. Colonel Zinn fell dead with a bullet in his brain. Captain William A. Porter withdrew the 130th Pennsylvani to the edge of the faigrounds and orderd it to lie down beside the 14th Connecticut. The 108th New York drove forward through a storm of shot and shell. The left half of the Regiment, south of the fairgrounds’ wall, passed only a couple paces beyond the swale before grinding to a halt. The right of the Regiment, inside the fairgrounds, lost half of its men before reaching the center of Mercer Square. The line floundered and then drifted back. Men fell at every step. Soldiers looked for cover, but found little. The barren fairgrounds left them stark and easy targets for the Confederates.
Andrew’s and Palmer’s Brigades had waited for orders near the city courthouse. The clock chimed noon as French sent his last two brigades into the battle. Andrew’s Brigade led the way, and Palmer’s followed it. Colonel Oliver Palmer commanded a triad of Regiments: 14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York. The 14th Connecticut joined Andrew’s right rear, near the bullet-pocked Saint George’s Episcopal Church. Many of the men welled with nervous excitement. “Waiting in suspense with such apprehension as came to them, seemed worse to endure than a dash upon the filed,” lamented a Connecticut soldier.
French briefed Andrews and Palmer before he sent them forward. He told Andrews to support Kimball’s Brigade and that Palmer would back him up. As soon as Andrews Brigade turned down Princess Anne Street, it dew fire immediately from Confederate artillery on Marye’s Heights. Their shells bowled through the column with terrifying effect. Andrews Brigade had barely moved before the leader of the 10th New York received a disfiguring wound to his head and neck. A shell exploded in Colonel John E. Bendix’s face and dropped him in a blood heap. Confederate shells often exploded against the buildings hurling shrapnel and bricks with equal velocity. Wounded men literally clogged the street. A shell burst left, a member of the 132nd Pennsylvania lying in the thoroughfare with his leg dangling by a bloody tendon. Andrews column came under a more destructive “hurricane of iron” when it entered Prussia Street. Federals darted across the millrace by a brickyard owned by the Mullens or Alers Family. A shell cleaved a 4th New York soldier in two and then exploded, killing and wounding another 11 men.
Eugene Cory of the 4th New York called this the “most terrific artillery fire we had ever faced.” Nearby, Pennsylvania John Kistler took a direct his that tore his arm off at the elbow. Most of Andrews Brigade hurried across the millrace and dipped behind the rise along the watercourse.
Oliver Palmer’s Brigade (Daniel Otis’brigade) traversed the same route out of the city (as described above). When Andrew’s men started down Princess Anne Street, Palmer’s officers ordered their men to fix bayonets. After a brief pause, the column lurched into motion. The Brigade marched to Prussia Street, hurrying across the exposed intersections. The 14th Connecticut led the way, with the 130th Pennsylvania and 108th New York in trace. Bursting shells and crashing walls engulfed the Brigade in smoke, dust, and noise. “Screaming shells shattered the roofs of many of the houses, scattering the debris over our heads.”
The Brigade turned into Prussia Street. Houses on the right protected the column of men until it reached the railroad depot, and “then the storm burst upon them.” Confederate artillery wreaked havoc with the Federals channeling through the choke point at the millrace. Colonel Palmer reported, “Their guns appeared to have the exact range of this passage.” The bottleneck slowed the advance and created an inviting target. A Connecticut soldier later recalled that “the missiles did murderous work.” Sergeant William B. Hincks of the 14th Connecticut wrote, “Canister shot went hopping around the depot yard and on the causeway like enormous marbles, and shells burst with a hideous crash on every side.”
Palmer’s Brigade hesitated at the sluiceway. A Pennsylvanian wrote that the bridge was a “most serious and embarrassing obstacle, and very disconcerting under a raking storm of projectiles.” “Our men fell like leaves,” recalled a New Yorker.
One shell tore off both of David Lincoln’s legs as he crossed the span. (This is the same shell that took Daniel Otis’ leg off. I'm not sure why the author passed over Daniel, failing to mention him.). Soldiers of the 14th Connecticut shied away in revulsion. Others stood transfixed by the spectacle. Lincoln smiled weakly, offering his comrades words of encouragement as they filed past. Following the Connecticut soldiers came the Pennsylvania and New Yorkers. “When crossing a sluice, I noticed several men standing still looking at something,” remembered a member of the 108th New York. To the latecomers Lincoln evenly intoned: “Pass on boys. Don’t stop to look at me.” At the same time, Captain William McLaughlin herded a portion of the 130th Pennsylvania onto the bridge. Shells carved huge gaps in his ranks. One of the shells decapitated Captain McLaughlin, splattering his brains over the company.
Converging artillery fire and nightmarish scenes like those of David Lincoln and McLaughlin unnerved some of the men. The 14th Connecticut’s advance degenerated into a chaotic shambles. Some of the 130th Pennsylvania cowered behind the railroad depot. When routed from their shelter, Union soldiers darted across the millrace and hid behind a brickyard. The 108th New York behaved the same way when artillery “swept the brave men away like chaff.” A New Yorker wrote, “The shells burst among them with awful havoc.”
More men might have fallen had not Lieutenant Colonel Sanford H. Perkins taken the initiative. Perkins, the 14th Connecticut, told the head of the paralyzed column to follow him. The broken ranks picked through the human debris and sidled to the right, under cover of the millrace depression. Filing up the ravine, the 14th Connecticut overlapped the left of Andrew’s Brigade, and arrived behind the 10th New York. Unable to find a spot in the line, they turned to re-trace their march. As Perkin’s men about-faced, the surrounding troops jeered them for leaving. The Regiment, however, quickly pivoted back into line on the left of the 10th New York and lay down. The rest of Palmer’s soldiers re-formed along the ravine. Some of them took cover behind a short stone wall overlooking the waterway.
Several Union soldiers saw a hot air balloon rise above Stafford Heights. Confederate artillery also descried the balloon and hurled several rounds at it, even though it floated well beyond their range. 14th Connecticut Lieutenant James L. Townsend blurted our impulsively, “They are firing at the balloon!” “Good God,” scoffed Captain Samuel H. Davis, “Townsend is afraid they were firing at the balloon. I should think somebody was firing at us!” Laughter rippled down the line. (Emphasis in original letter.)
“One may ask how such dangers can be faced,” reflected Frederick Hitchcock, the adjutant of the 132nd Pennsylvania. “The answer is, there are many things more to fear than death.” Hitchcock dreaded cowardice and failure to fulfill his duty more than Rebel cannonballs. The adjutant wrote, “This is duty. I’ll trust in God and do it. If I fall, I cannot die better.” Hitchcock probably whispered the sentiments of many of the men on the battlefield, North and South.
Shortly after Andrew’s assault, Palmer’s Brigade took up the attack. The men had endured 20 minutes of shelling along the millrace (where Daniel Otis was mortally wounded). From its position, the Brigade saw Andrew’s attack collapse. A 14th Connecticut soldier summarized the violent onset: “There was a rush, a cheer, a crash of musketry with a tempest of bullets driven straight at their breasts, and the line dissolved.”
At that moment, Palmer ordered his Brigade to dress ranks. The Brigade formed a line of battle 150 yards behind Andrew’s struggling command and somewhat to their left. The 14th Connecticut, laughing at Lieutenant James Townsend’s concern for the balloon, suddenly forgot its mirth. Officers stomped down the muddy line, growling, “Up and at ‘em.” Men clawed their way out of the bottoms, slipping and sliding on the mucky slope. Ranks closed, and Palmer’s Brigade launched its assault to take the hill.
My note: by this time Daniel Otis had already been mortally wounded. Nonetheless, the account continues on and this is what was going on around him:
Palmer’s three regiments: 14th Connecticut, 130th Pennsylvania, and 108th New York tramped forward in neat ranks and measured steps. Confederate artillery riddled the slow-paced newcomers. Southern guns north of the Orange Plank Road joined the Washington Artillery in shelling the attackers. Confederate prodigy E. Porter Alexander had promised General Longstreet earlier that a “chicken could not live on that field when we open on it.” Palmer’s soldiers attested to his effectiveness. Major Francis E. Pierce recounted charging through “a perfect shower of missiles warlike.” A Connecticut officer watches as his “men fell like pins in an alley before the well-aimed ball of a skillful bowler.” Private Henry Goddard wrote that shells “actually crushed the bones of men like glass.” The ranks instinctively closed the gaps and the lines pressed on.
When the Federals came closer, Confederate cannoneers switched from shell to canister. The shotgun-like blasts cut bloody swaths through the attackers. One enlisted man testified that the cannon “cut us all to pieces.” A Pennsylvanian soldier recounted, “Our men were stricken down by hundreds.” Fewer men surged forward with each cannon report, and the ruptured line started to flare across a wider front.
Cohesion or momentum abandoned Palmer’s brigade by the time it reached the left of Andrew’s brigade in the swale. The 130th Pennsylvania fired a sporadic volley and charged across the fairgrounds. The 14th Connecticut squeezed through holes in the fairgrounds fence and entered the square to the right of the Pennsylvanians. The 108th New York struck the southeast corner of the fairgrounds fence. No units had passed that far south before. The 14th Connecticut rumbled across the fairgrounds and Confederates dropped them by the dozens. Some of the Connecticut soldiers closed to within 150 yards of the Confederate wall, but by then, the attack had lost its drive. Union fire grew weaker until it ceased altogether at certain points. Lieutenant Charles Lyman charged ahead until he found himself alone. Everyone around him had been shot. “Bullets were flying very thick around me, and I had expectation of getting off that field alive.” He retreated to the swale with other survivors. Lieutenant Colonel Sanford H. Perkins raised his sword and cried, “Forward 14th!” just as a Confederate bullet ripped through his neck. Major Cyrus C. Clark fell at the same time, when a piece of shrapnel glanced off his side. Nursing the contusions, he limped off the field, leaving the 14th Connecticut to the command of Captain Samuel H. Davis. He ordered the 14th Connecticut to lie down along the east wall of the fairgrounds.
The 130th Pennsylvania stopped in the middle of the fairgrounds when the 14th Connecticut retired. The Pennsylvanians suffered a number of casualties. Colonel Zinn fell dead with a bullet in his brain. Captain William A. Porter withdrew the 130th Pennsylvani to the edge of the faigrounds and orderd it to lie down beside the 14th Connecticut. The 108th New York drove forward through a storm of shot and shell. The left half of the Regiment, south of the fairgrounds’ wall, passed only a couple paces beyond the swale before grinding to a halt. The right of the Regiment, inside the fairgrounds, lost half of its men before reaching the center of Mercer Square. The line floundered and then drifted back. Men fell at every step. Soldiers looked for cover, but found little. The barren fairgrounds left them stark and easy targets for the Confederates.
Soldiers said:
“It was a much harder battle than Antietam.”
“Antietam was a hard-fought field, but this is the most terrible yet in the annals of warfare.”
“I don’t see how a worse place could by any means have been made.”
“When I saw the murderous fire as it swept through the column of our devoted men, my feelings were indescribable.”
“I was so mad. To think of our men marching right into the jaws of death without any site to defend themselves.”
“How any ma went up and back again alive is more than I can imagine.”
“A perfect slaughterhouse.”
Across the way, the Confederates expanded their fire to rake the entire Union front. Nearby, Colonel Oliver Palmer watched his Brigade wither before him. The ranks had become so torn and mixed that the Brigade commander could no longer locate his three Regiments. The Colonel hovered near the north end of Mercer’s Square, where he spotted the flag of the 14th Connecticut. Palmer squatted behind a nearby mound of dirt, and made no further effort to find his Brigade. Unknown to him the 14th Connecticut’s banner did not indicate the Regiments position. Color Sergeant Charles E. Dart had planted the flag behind a broken fence post on the perimeter of the fairgrounds, and lay down between Lieutenant Charles Lyman and Corporal John Symonds. A Confederate shell burst in front of them. Gravel from the blast blinded Symonds, and his eyes swelled to the size of eggs. Shrapnel tore off most of Dart’s face. Shell fragments then sawed through the fence post and struck the Lieutenant. Sergeant Augustus Foote spotted the faceless color-bearer in his death throes. He crawled over and took his place. Confederates shot Foote in the head and hip when he tried to evacuate the flag. The Sergeant lay beneath the upright flag. In his delirium, he begged nearby Union soldiers to kill him. Brigade commander Palmer assumed the standard jammed in the mud marked the Brigade’s whereabouts. Soon afterward to Connecticut soldiers, Frederick B. Doten and William B. Hincks, asked Palmer where to find their Regiment. Palmer pointed to the flag. The two dashed forward, only to discover the state flag unattended. Apparently Foote had either fainted or crawled away, because neither man noticed him. They furled the banner and spirited to safety.
Palmer’s Brigade lingered on the field, but the hope of victory had vanished.
Death and destruction ravaged the prostrate line. Shells screeched overhead and exploded in their ranks, appearing to “lift the earth from its foundation.” Bullets rained down on the men like “drops in a summer shower.” New Yorkers noted that the dead literally “piled upon each other in scores.”
A Connecticut soldier asked, “Who can depict the horrors of that scene? What language can adequately portray the awful carnage of that hour?”
Palmer’s Brigade left the field in small, disorganized groups. Most of the troops made their way toward the city and carried their wounded with them.
Kimballs’ Brigade suffered 520 casualties out of perhaps 2,000 troops.
French’s Division had lost nearly one-third of its officers, and a little more than 30-percent of its men.
The new men of the 28th New Jersey bore the heaviest casualties of the Brigade, losing 193 out of 665.
Andrew’s Brigade incurred still heavier losses, counting 342 casualties out of 850 men, a loss exceeding 40 percent.
The 10th New York lost 9 of its 11 officers.
The 132nd Pennsylvania counted 150 casualties out of 340 men—44 percent of the nine-month regiment. They also lost their colors. After several men had fallen while holding the standard, the last one carried it off the field despite a serious wound. The delirious soldier stumbled into a church used as a hospital, Still clutching his flag, he fainted and died. Surgeons propped the flag in a corner and forgot about it.
Palmer’s Brigade (which was Daniel Otis’ Brigade) recorded the lightest losses, amassing 293 casualties. The 14th Connecticut lost 122 out of 270 men, suffering a 45% reduction. Edmund Wade noted later that the wounded commander, Lieutenant Colonel Sanford Perkins, “is most crazy about it and has given notice to the authorities that the Regiment is not fit for duty.”
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// Excerpt from the book, “Souvenir Excursion to Battlefields,” by the Society for the 14th Connecticut Regiment //
Battle of Antietam
Daily marching brought us to Frederick, Maryland. By the 13th, and on Sunday "over the hills of Maryland" the march was pursued, the regiment bivouacking that night on the battlefield of South Mountain, where the dead, the first seen by us of those slain in war, were lying about.
On the 15th we crossed the mountain by Turner's Gap, proceeded to Boonesboro, turned sharply to the left towards Sharpsburg, close in the wake of the enemy, and, passing through the village of Keedysville just at dark and proceeding about one mile beyond, turned into a field at the left of the road, not far from McClellan's headquarters at the Pry house, there bivouacking on the front line of the army.
The next day was spent on that ground, where at one time the regiment was treated to its first shelling from hostile guns—treatment very unwelcome, as every third gun discharged sent a Whitworth bolt over the hill in our front striking somewhere in our vicinity, generally wounding someone. We saw one of these bolts take off the foot of a man across the road from us—and the most pertinent reflection about the scene was, the man struck was out of his place.
Glad we all were when French's battery, that had been sent flying up the road running diagonally past our front, silenced those “dogs of war." All that day it could be seen that things were being "fixed up" for a fight— leaders "cutting out work" for us— and some heavy firing just at evening by Hooker's men far up at the right settled the conviction.
Soon after two o'clock on the morning of Wednesday the 17th the regiment was astir and receiving ammunition, and at daylight in line. Soon afterward we crossed the road and moved, with frequent halts, around the high hill in the rear of McClellan's headquarters, about midway of the slope, making our way toward some ford of the Antietam. About 8 o'clock the ford was reached and crossed. The water was pretty deep, the banks were steep and slippery. The fording was not an agreeable recreation but we knew worse things were ahead.
We were marching that day with the Third Brigade (Max Weber's) of our division in front, our brigade, under command of our own Colonel Morris, next, and the First Brigade (Genl. Kimball's) in rear. From the ford the course was towards and then up the slope flanking the East Woods. * These woods were reached and entered about one mile from the ford and the line was at once faced to the left and advanced. Order was straightway given to form line of battle. Huge shells crashing through the tree-tops and branches and dropping and bursting about had made the men nervous, and this order made them realize that the hour they had thought of and talked of, the hour of battle, of mortal combat, was at hand.
No previous moment of life had been, to most, as serious as this. There would surely be wounding and pain and death; and upon whom of all would these come, men were reflecting. Stern duty granted no time for meditation, for the line, the deadly battle-line, was forming. General French, the division
commander, seeing some halting and confusion in the brigade shouted: “For God's sake, men, close up and go forward!” The 14th, Lieut. Col. Perkins commanding, was formed on the right of the brigade, the 130th Penn. next and the 108th N. Y. at left.
Max Weber's brigade formed in our front and passed over the fence first, the 1st Del. on the right, and the 4th N. Y. and 5th Maryland. Regiments at left of it. Kimball's brigade formed at left of our brigade and advanced later. The line well formed, the order “forward!" was given. Here the writer dismounted, sent his horse back, fell in behind Company B and followed—and that is how he knows the things whereof he writes. His watch at that moment marked nearly 9 o'clock. Out of the woods and over the fence we went and on, one magnificent battle line, with colors that should never again be so bright and companies that should never again be whole. Of course batteries opened on us at once, but, as usual with shelling under such circumstances, they affected the line but little.
Before us was a gentle slope terminating after about one fourth mile in a swale between the houses of Mr. Mumma and Mr. William Roulette. Half way down the slope the right of the regiment passed through a corner of Mr. Mumma's orchard, and, grave as the moment was, men of Co. A plucked the fruit and ate.
A little farther on that same right passed within a few rods of the blazing barn and house of Mr. Mumma, feeling the scorching heat. A little farther, and the "wee" brook coursing through the swale was reached and the line was turned a trifle to the right to advance into the cornfield, whose fence was one hundred paces beyond.
Just then the left of Company B struck the Roulette house and was detained a little to attend to some belligerent sharp-shooters sheltered there.* Then the line swept on over the fence into the cornfield, the regiment ex- tending across its entire breadth. This field belonged to Mr. Mumma and had upon it a vigorous growth of nearly mature, tall corn with hills high heaped. By the writer's pacing this field is about three hundred and fifty yards from rear to front. While passing through this our men were nearly hidden and but little effect of the enemy's firing was felt until we were past the middle. Max Weber's brigade reached the farther fence some yards in advance of us and at once drew a strong fire from the enemy, which our line received a good share of from overshooting.
*Mr. Roulette had removed his family to a safe place in season, but returning him- self to look after his stock he was held in limbo by the Rebs. When firing began he went into the cellar for safety, but when our boys cleaned out the Johnnies he quickly ran out, shouting excitedly: "Give it to 'em!" "Drive 'em!" "Take anything on my place, only drive 'em! Drive' em!" Then he started for the rear, for he wasn't singing just then “there’s no place like home."
The First Delaware men, to whom this was their first battle, stood their ground bravely, but other troops of that brigade did not do so well, as official reports confirm. Not only their wounded fell back through our lines to be cared for by us but the frightened “skedaddlers" also in large numbers. When the 14th reached the fence it received a smashing fire full in the face. This might have dashed our men's courage, but it had been screwed up to the staying pitch and they did not waver. Over the fence they went upon the clear sward field one rod, two rods, every inch of which a withering storm of bullets was smiting them.
Col. Morris, Lieut. Col. Perkins* and Adjt. Ellis rode forth and back most bravely in front of the line urging the men forward ; but at last, finding it impossible to advance farther, the order was given to fall back to the fence and "load and fire at will." This order they obeyed, but no farther back did they go until directed to. Stopping by the rails or dropping back a yard or two among the high corn hills, each man loaded his piece and then fired at whatever seemed a proper target. While it was very easy to feel the enemy it was very difficult to see him—and we will tell why. A lane, called the "Sunken Road," one outlet of the Mumma, Roulette, and Piper farms, leaves the Hagerstown pike about one mile above Sharspsburg, runs towards the position of the 14th about one-third mile, then turns to right a little, descending a slight hill, then turns again a little and runs on nearly southeast about one-fourth mile when it turns again.
*Maj. Clark's nervous horse acted so foolishly that he could not urge him over the fence, and we have a vivid recollection of him among the corn hills holding the refractory beast, grinding his teeth and muttering hot expletives, until Corpl. Ed. Smith of Co. E, limping along with a serious bullet wound in the calf, led it away.
It pursues this crooked way until, after making six angles and seven different lines of direction, all amounting to about one right angle, it connects with the Boonesboro pike west of Sharpsburg, fully one mile and a half from the start point. This road is depressed for over one-half mile of its course, and the part from the little hill mentioned for about one-fourth mile is called ''Bloody Lane."
The Roulette farm lane connects with it a few rods from the foot of the little hill. This sunken part of the road men of Hill's corps had taken possession of upon retiring before our advancing division. From the left of Company B in direct line forward to the first bend of the sunken road at top of the little hill, a little to the right of the house seen in cuts 28 and 30, is one hundred and seventy-five paces.
In this deep cut, at this near point and far up the road, the rebels were ensconced, completely concealed, in full lines, all busily plying their muskets ; and on the rising ground in the field back of this position was another line so located as to fire over their heads. All these had a direct fire upon our left and a raking fire upon the rest of our line. And this was not all. Mr. Mumma's farm outlet to Sharpsburg then was a lane running along the right of our cornfield and skirting the field in our front in a circuitous course, joining the sunken road a few rods from the Hagerstown pike. From this lane directly in front of our center to our line was about three hundred and fifty yards.
This lane had its quota of lurking infantry, and the line was extended northward behind barricades and outcropping ledges. Do our men now wonder where the heavy, deadly fire came from or why no enemy was visible, only occasionally a rusty hat.
Nothing daunted the 14th men, and they settled down to work as though expecting to stay, firing in the direction of the puffs of smoke or at anything indicating the presence of a Reb. Of course many were entirely unused to handling firearms, and there were more shots at a venture that day in the regiment than it ever knew again, but each man did his best and bravest.
But good men were falling all the time under the incessant fusillade of the invisible foe. As they were wounded they, if unable to walk, were borne back to the Roulette house; if able to walk they could go farther back to our division hospital on the Smith farm, near our fording place.
For about two hours this was continued. Sharp sense of danger was, after a time, dulled, and there was a bit of fascination in hearing the buzzing bullets passing by, or in seeing them clip a cornstalk or its leaves or strike up little puffs of dust at our feet as a running mouse would. Some of the time batteries were ex-changing compliments over our heads, and occasionally one of these "compliments" would drop in our field, hoisting the earth, or, bursting in the air, would drop gentle showers of scrap-iron upon us. At one time the conduct of the 5th Maryland affected us hurtfully. Col. Perkins says in his report that their breaking threw three companies of my right wing into confusion.
Soon all the companies were together and retiring to the rear of the Roulette house and into the yard between the house and barn. Soon after the retirement of the 14th to the Roulette house an order came assigning it to the support of Genl. Kimball, some of whose regiments had been obliged to retire to replenish ammunition. It was advanced to the right, beyond the barn, to a position by a wall by the Roulette lane; which "wall" Col. Morris reports he "was ordered to take and hold," adding : "This I did with the Fourteenth Connecticut alone."
The tide of battle was moving beyond Kimball, Richardson's division coming in for a heavy pull. This division had crossed the Antietam an hour later than the 14th, and by the same ford, and had at once moved down the stream, its course for a distance restrained on the left by the stream and the rough ground along it. When the bend at Neikirk's was passed it could extend to the left, and all the brigades advanced up the slope at rear and left of Kimball, the "Irish Brigade" (Meagher's) on the right.
Soon the latter brigade was heavily engaged (partly in support of Kimball), then Caldwell, then Brooke. The regiments on the extreme left, Brooke's men, advanced towards the Piper house, fighting hard and successfully, and others that had advanced beyond the line of the crooked lane faced to the right and charged upon the enemy in the cornfield and orchard between Piper's and our line, driving them and flanking the "Bloody Lane "portion of the road, completing thus the capture or destruction of all its remaining occupants. This advance movement of Brooke on the far left made it necessary that his brigade should have support, so Kimball was directed to send him aid. As he, naturally, preferred to keep his own men, now flush with ammunition, he detached his temporary reinforcements, the 14th Connecticut, and 108th New York, and sent them, under command of Col. Morris, to Brooke. This made necessary a movement of about one-half mile to the extreme left of our corps, some of the way along an exposed hill. Soon after the column started and while ascending the hill (foreground in cut 33) the regiment was subjected to a most trying ordeal. A shell from the enemy cutting diagonally across Co. D burst in the middle of that company, killing outright Henry Tiley, W. P. Ramsdell, and R. Griswold, taking an arm from Joseph Stafford and from L. Griswold and wounding two others.
The movement was continued beyond Richardson's regular line to a point from ten to twenty rods beyond the fence visible beyond the hay-stack.
 |
| Where Richardson fell; The 14th Connecticut's farthest move to left, beyond the fence. |
Soon it retired, by order, to the field in which the hay-stack appears and halted in a hollow, the left of the regiment being about where the large tree appears in the foreground.
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| Position at left when waiting in support of Brooke |
Here, though not within musket range of the enemy, they were within shelling range, and some were struck. One ricocheting shell passed through the ground under Hiram H. Fox of Co. B, who was lying, face down, at full length. It took the breath from his body for a time and put him out of the fight for some hours. W. H. Norton of Co. A was cut nearly in two by a shell. An accident here robbed us of one of our best men, a man exceptionally well qualified for a volunteer soldier on account of his physical training, his intelligence, character, and patriotism, Robert Hubbard of Co. B. He was fatally shot through the careless handling of a rifle by a member of his own company. Another similar fatal accident happened to another promising soldier, Thaddeus Lewis of Co. A. These were not the only instances of such carelessness in the regiment though the only ones resulting seriously. The men were not yet habituated to the continuous handling of loaded guns.
A battery was stationed at the top of the hill, beyond the two large trees on the ledge seen in the above pictures, whose action it was that attracted the shelling our way. While Genl. Richardson was superintending the working of this battery he was struck, receiving a mortal wound. A detail of men of the 14th helped carry him off the field. After lying in this position more than an hour the regiment was moved to the top of the hill and farther up the ridge. This was by order of Genl. Hancock, who had, upon the fall of Genl. Richardson, been directed to come from his own brigade in the Sixth Corps and assume command of Richardson's division. In his official report Genl. Hancock says: “Finding a considerable interval at a dangerous point between Meagher's Irish brigade and Caldwell's brigade the 14th Connecticut was placed there and the detachment from the 108th New York, on the extreme left."
A battery was stationed at the top of the hill, beyond the two large trees on the ledge seen in the above pictures, whose action it was that attracted the shelling our way. While Genl. Richardson was superintending the working of this battery he was struck, receiving a mortal wound. A detail of men of the 14th helped carry him off the field. After lying in this position more than an hour the regiment was moved to the top of the hill and farther up the ridge. This was by order of Genl. Hancock, who had, upon the fall of Genl. Richardson, been directed to come from his own brigade in the Sixth Corps and assume command of Richardson's division. In his official report Genl. Hancock says: “Finding a considerable interval at a dangerous point between Meagher's Irish brigade and Caldwell's brigade the 14th Connecticut was placed there and the detachment from the 108th New York, on the extreme left."
So our brigade was wholly dispersed, the 130th Pennsylvania, being still with Kimball. As soon as the regiment reached the summit of the ridge the one in command attempted to make a perfect alignment, dress-parade style. This made a royal "pot-shot" for rebel artillerymen in sight and they promptly tried it. Very soon a staff officer came dashing up and ordered the body, using a carefully selected vocabulary of words, to get down out of sight as quickly as possible. This was done; but the enemy, having the range, kept up the shelling, greatly to the misery of our men. There was only this to seriously disturb their peace as there was but little infantry firing at the right of the army after two o'clock. The heavy booming of the artillery and the crash of musketry volleys in Burnside's attack far at the left, below Sharpsburg, were heard, and there was a constant expectation of being called to action at some point. They longed for the night to come that the shelling might cease, and at last it came. The spot where they lay will ever be remembered as the "plowed ground." The ground, recently plowed, had a deep layer of thoroughly dry, powdery earth. The men looked bad enough after rolling and burrowing in this, but after a rain came in the night—well, they looked like, "like everything!” All the night through and the following day and night they heard the dreadful groans and cries of the wounded and dying wretches in the Bloody Lane just over the hill calling for water, or help, or to have others taken oft' who, dead, were lying across or upon their tortured and helpless bodies, or for death to release them from their anguish; but they were powerless to render the assistance their hearts longed to give.
All that day our men lay in most uncomfortable position and exposed to a scorching sun on the plowed ground. At early light the rebel sharp-shooters began firing at every visible living or moving object. Some of them occupied a conspicuous orchard on high ground on the Piper farm in our front, firing from the trees and from behind the fence palings.
We had a line of skirmishers upon the crest to look out for them. Some of these, notably those of the flank companies (which were Company A and Company B—Daniel Otis’ Company) armed with Sharp's rifles, ensconced behind perfumed barricades of defunct horses, did effective work, tumbling many a Johnny out of the trees. My note: Company B held the position at the far left side of the regiment.
There was no engagement anywhere on the line of the army that day and it became apparent to the dullest mind that Lee must be withdrawing his troops behind this lively mask of sharp-shooters. Also, the heavy and intermitting rumbling of wheels during the night strengthened the impression of the soldiers that the enemy was retreating. O that a Grant or a Sheridan, or even such an one as our own Hancock, had been in command of our army ; someone awake and not fettered by old-time notions about regular military order nor filled with awe-inspiring visions of vast hordes of the enemy never existing! Then would all the reserves and those troops but half used yet in action have been put upon the track of the enemy—to destroy or capture, beyond a doubt.
That night our Commissary Sergt. J. W. Knowlton, having braved military regulations in order to promote the comfort of his comrades, brought a wagon-load of supplies within reach. For this he was highly complimented by officials, with distinct and strong hints of honors that should follow. But the “honors," promotion, like many another baseless fabric of a dream "in soldier life," failed to materialize, being turned aside to others before reaching our worthy comrade.
On the morning of the 19th it was a transparent fact that there was no enemy in our front. Still the 14th boys were kept on the plowed field. At last this becoming intolerable, Col. Morris, at nearly 10 o'clock, instructed myself to go to Gen. French and state to him that the Regiment had been lying in that unfavorable and trying place 42 hours and request that it might be relieved. The "Aid" finding the general about one-half mile away comfortably located told his errand.
When the "Aid" was returning to report his reception he met Genl. Hancock, with his staff', descending the hill, and on reaching the regiment learned that he had just relieved it and ordered its return to its own division. It was then directed to bivouac in the East Woods, about one- third mile from, and in front of, the Dunker Church. Here the men rested until the following Monday morning. They visited freely the battlefield, where they had been engaged and elsewhere, and viewed the sad havoc of war—the hundreds of the slain about the fields; the heaped- up dead in Bloody Lane; the debris of the wrecked batteries ; the ruins of the Mumma buildings and the shattered walls and roof of the Dunker Church.
On Sunday, the 21st, we had, in the grove, with flag-draped drums for our pulpit and our own delightful band for our sweet "church- going bell" and orchestra, our first Sabbath service in the field—a service unusually touching, coming so close upon our recent experiences. These things, with abundant hospital work and burying our dead, fully occupied our time until Monday morning the 22nd, when we broke camp, marched to the Hagerstown pike at the Dunker Church, then down to Sharpsburg and through it on our way to Harpers Ferry.
Our losses were heavy. Of killed and mortally wounded there were thirty-eight, of wounded eighty-eight, and reported as missing twenty-one. Of the officers Capt. Blinn of Co. F and Capt. Willard of Co. G were shot dead at the heads of their respective commands. Lieut. Crosby of Co. K received a mortal wound and Lieut. Coit of the same company received severe wounds of both thighs that disabled him for several months. Lieut. Sherman received a serious contused wound of the side and color-bearer Thomas Mills was mortally wounded. Brave Sergt. Eno of Co. F was killed outright. Our flags were rent and gashed and one staff' was badly shattered, the top being shot away. The horses of Col. Perkins and Adjt. Ellis were shot under them, the adjutant's being killed.
Only weeks after the 14th Connecticut left Hartford, it fought in its first battle outside the village of Sharpsburg, Md. The regiment swept across William Roulette's farm and engaged Confederates in Bloody Lane, suffering 20 killed and 98 wounded. Among the regiment's dead were well-regarded captains Jarvis Blinn and Samuel Willard.
All that day our men lay in most uncomfortable position and exposed to a scorching sun on the plowed ground. At early light the rebel sharp-shooters began firing at every visible living or moving object. Some of them occupied a conspicuous orchard on high ground on the Piper farm in our front, firing from the trees and from behind the fence palings.
We had a line of skirmishers upon the crest to look out for them. Some of these, notably those of the flank companies (which were Company A and Company B—Daniel Otis’ Company) armed with Sharp's rifles, ensconced behind perfumed barricades of defunct horses, did effective work, tumbling many a Johnny out of the trees. My note: Company B held the position at the far left side of the regiment.
There was no engagement anywhere on the line of the army that day and it became apparent to the dullest mind that Lee must be withdrawing his troops behind this lively mask of sharp-shooters. Also, the heavy and intermitting rumbling of wheels during the night strengthened the impression of the soldiers that the enemy was retreating. O that a Grant or a Sheridan, or even such an one as our own Hancock, had been in command of our army ; someone awake and not fettered by old-time notions about regular military order nor filled with awe-inspiring visions of vast hordes of the enemy never existing! Then would all the reserves and those troops but half used yet in action have been put upon the track of the enemy—to destroy or capture, beyond a doubt.
That night our Commissary Sergt. J. W. Knowlton, having braved military regulations in order to promote the comfort of his comrades, brought a wagon-load of supplies within reach. For this he was highly complimented by officials, with distinct and strong hints of honors that should follow. But the “honors," promotion, like many another baseless fabric of a dream "in soldier life," failed to materialize, being turned aside to others before reaching our worthy comrade.
On the morning of the 19th it was a transparent fact that there was no enemy in our front. Still the 14th boys were kept on the plowed field. At last this becoming intolerable, Col. Morris, at nearly 10 o'clock, instructed myself to go to Gen. French and state to him that the Regiment had been lying in that unfavorable and trying place 42 hours and request that it might be relieved. The "Aid" finding the general about one-half mile away comfortably located told his errand.
When the "Aid" was returning to report his reception he met Genl. Hancock, with his staff', descending the hill, and on reaching the regiment learned that he had just relieved it and ordered its return to its own division. It was then directed to bivouac in the East Woods, about one- third mile from, and in front of, the Dunker Church. Here the men rested until the following Monday morning. They visited freely the battlefield, where they had been engaged and elsewhere, and viewed the sad havoc of war—the hundreds of the slain about the fields; the heaped- up dead in Bloody Lane; the debris of the wrecked batteries ; the ruins of the Mumma buildings and the shattered walls and roof of the Dunker Church.
On Sunday, the 21st, we had, in the grove, with flag-draped drums for our pulpit and our own delightful band for our sweet "church- going bell" and orchestra, our first Sabbath service in the field—a service unusually touching, coming so close upon our recent experiences. These things, with abundant hospital work and burying our dead, fully occupied our time until Monday morning the 22nd, when we broke camp, marched to the Hagerstown pike at the Dunker Church, then down to Sharpsburg and through it on our way to Harpers Ferry.
Our losses were heavy. Of killed and mortally wounded there were thirty-eight, of wounded eighty-eight, and reported as missing twenty-one. Of the officers Capt. Blinn of Co. F and Capt. Willard of Co. G were shot dead at the heads of their respective commands. Lieut. Crosby of Co. K received a mortal wound and Lieut. Coit of the same company received severe wounds of both thighs that disabled him for several months. Lieut. Sherman received a serious contused wound of the side and color-bearer Thomas Mills was mortally wounded. Brave Sergt. Eno of Co. F was killed outright. Our flags were rent and gashed and one staff' was badly shattered, the top being shot away. The horses of Col. Perkins and Adjt. Ellis were shot under them, the adjutant's being killed.
Only weeks after the 14th Connecticut left Hartford, it fought in its first battle outside the village of Sharpsburg, Md. The regiment swept across William Roulette's farm and engaged Confederates in Bloody Lane, suffering 20 killed and 98 wounded. Among the regiment's dead were well-regarded captains Jarvis Blinn and Samuel Willard.
The Battle of Fredericksburg
Then came the order for the Second Brigade, our own, to advance. Like a bugle note sounded out Col. Perkin's call: “Forward, Fourteenth!” Down Princess Anne the regiment hurried, amid the sound of arms upon the field and the crash of shells falling in the streets or bursting in the houses, receiving at each intersecting street a galling fire from the batteries on the Marye and Willis hills. Prussia Street reached, facing the old brick depot, the command filed to right and moved out that street one block, covered on the right by the houses, until the dreaded canal was reached and the bridge touched—then the storm burst upon them.
The rebel gunners had the exact range. With abundant time to calculate distances they knew just where to drop their shells and how to time their fuses. The batteries in front had opened all along the line, and as the regiment could go but slowly over the bridge the missiles did murderous work. Sergt. Hincks, close at the head of the line, thus graphically described, "Canister shot went hopping round the depot yard and on the causeway like enormous marbles, and shells burst, with a hideous crash, on every side."
On the bridge fell good David Lincoln of Company B, both legs knocked off above the knees, and Daniel Otis with a fatal wound. Into a “slaughter pen," indeed, were the men going, but with brave hearts they pushed forward, the officers cheering them on. Soon they filed to right by a half wheel, for this road was far to the left of the point to be charged, until the line came under the partial shelter of a slight mound, and formed on the left of Andrews Brigade. One or two changes having been made here to conform lines to positions, instructions were given the men to lie close until ordered up.
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The bridge crossing the millrace where Daniel Otis and David
Lincoln were mortally wounded
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The guns on Taylor's Hill fairly enfiladed the position doing deadly work, particularly at the left of the regiment, as they did in the 10th N. Y. near. It was a moment when men's hearts are stricken with a dreadful expectancy, for the outlook was horrible.
Kimball's veterans were ordered on, and, bracing for the fray, they made their straight, fierce rush at the stone wall; to be hurled back by the leaden storm flung out at them by tiers of musketry as barks are beaten back by raging gales. Then Andrew's brave fellows were ordered up to the charge, to meet a similar fate. There was a rush, a cheer, a crash of musketry with a tempest of bullets driven straight at their breasts, and the line dissolved, stragglers or clusters firing here and there, but chiefly dropping upon the ground to be exposed as little as possible. Then the Second Brigade was ordered “up and at' ‘em !" Ah, that charge!
A few rods brought the line to the flat ground directly in front of the old “Fair Grounds," indicated at that time by some remaining tall posts and some high boards clinging here and there to the rails. Here Col. Perkins shouted his last command to the 14th. He dashed ahead and his brave boys followed. A few rods, over ground every foot of which was lashed by artillery, and the leveled guns on the direful wall coolly waiting spoke out in unison, terrific. Down went the leader, down went Major Clark, Capt. Carpenter, and Lieut. Hawley. Capt. Gibbons and Lieuts. Stanley and Comes went down with mortal wounds, and Lieut. Canfield was killed outright. Other officers were slightly wounded and Sergts. Fiske and Foot received frightful wounds; and so fell Color-Bearer Oliver Dart and hosts of good men of the rank and file.
On pressed the rest as though thinking to encompass victory by their daring, reaching to within one hundred and fifty yards or less of the wall, when, hopeless of success, most dropped beside the huge fence posts or into little hollows for slight protection and to use their guns as best they might against the foe.
There was some more attacking by other troops but it availed nothing as to conquering the position.
How our men got oft' the field it is hard to tell. Finding it a useless and murderous exposure of themselves to stay, they drifted off singly or in little squads as lulls in the storm or the clouds of smoke gave them opportunity, helping off such wounded as they could. Some, sheltered in trifling hollows, waited until night came down to conceal them and then went off.
How our men got oft' the field it is hard to tell. Finding it a useless and murderous exposure of themselves to stay, they drifted off singly or in little squads as lulls in the storm or the clouds of smoke gave them opportunity, helping off such wounded as they could. Some, sheltered in trifling hollows, waited until night came down to conceal them and then went off.
The scenes and the work at the hospitals were appalling. Men had been borne to church edifices, ware-houses, and various public and private buildings until the city seemed full of the wounded, though numbers of those able to walk had gone over the river. A large proportion of the wounds had been made by shells and were of a ghastly character.
To our division hospital, the Absalom Rowe house on the river road, men were brought until rooms, verandas and lawns were full. Under the large sycamore in rear of the house our surgeons plied the knife, saw, and forceps and applied ligament and bandage until far into the night. On the northern porch lay, among others, our Dart, his face torn off as though slashed away with a cleaver, and by his side lay Symonds, his eyes swollen with inflammation to the size of eggs, the sand grains showing through the tightly stretched and shining lids.
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The Rowe House
Wounded 14th Connecticut soldiers were cared for at the divisional hospital there.
This is a war-time photo of Fredericksburg, VA
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A 1940s image of the Rowe House at 607 Sophia Street in
Fredericksburg, VA.
Unfortunately, the house is no longer there. |
“Near the south porch (of the house) lay our Lincoln (David), his two legs dangling from the trunk by naught but the slender cords,” 14th Connecticut Chaplain Henry Stevens recalled. “Though the sight of his poor, mangled form forced out our tears, his smile was beatific as he gave us words of love for his young wife and friends and expressed his devotion to his country and his readiness to die.” As Chaplain Stevens visited with the stricken private, an artillery shell narrowly missed Lincoln, who had no hope of surviving his grievous wounds. “We buried him in the garden, taking sixty seconds of precious time for a little service at his grave.”
In a room above lay, pale as death with his grievous wound, the noble Stanley, and near him Sgt. Fiske, with that rent in his stomach that, though, as he said, not “as big as a barn door nor deep as a well," kept him groaning all the night. And there was Carpenter; also Lloyd, who, though grimacing with the pain of a shattered wrist, would keep his jokish tongue wagging in a way that seemed ghastly just then; also many others.
In a little building just above were, with others, Col. Perkins and Major Clark, the former suffering so from what then seemed an unexplainable wound of the shoulder that it required our steady effort until long past midnight to reduce his sense of pain sufficiently for him to sleep.
In the morning, apprehensive of a renewal of the fighting, we sent over the river all the wounded, Col. Perkins, Major Clark and others unable to walk being borne on stretchers. Then Drum Major McCarthy and myself started on a tour of the hospitals to find Capt. Gibbons and others of the Fourteenth said to have been taken to a church and other buildings on Princess Anne street; but we found that they had already been taken over the river and were safe.
My note: though his comrades “buried him in the garden,” 28-year-old David Lincoln’s final resting place is unknown. The burial sites are also unknown for several other Privates in Company B: William P. Hilliker, William H. Johnson Sr., Enoch Wilcox II, and Dwight Wolcott. Having an unknown burial site would have most likely been the fate of 15-year-old Daniel Otis had his father not retrieved his body.
Other soldiers of Company B that were also killed in the doomed charge were 2nd Lieutenant David E. Canfield, who was buried on the battlefield where he fell, and Company B Captain, Elijah W. Gibbons, whose thigh was shattered by a rebel ball. He died six days later in Falmouth. Ten men total from Company B lost their lives at the Battle of Fredericksburg.
In all, the 14th Connecticut lost 122 out of 270 men, suffering a 45% reduction. Because of this, Regiment commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Sanford H. Perkins was described as “…most crazy about it and has given notice to the authorities that the Regiment is not fit for duty.”
"A Noble and Glorious Cause: The Life, Times, and Civil War Service of Captain Elijah W. Gibbons," mentions "...the near complete destruction of Captain Gibbons' Company B," on that December day in Fredericksburg.
In all, the 14th Connecticut lost 122 out of 270 men, suffering a 45% reduction. Because of this, Regiment commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Sanford H. Perkins was described as “…most crazy about it and has given notice to the authorities that the Regiment is not fit for duty.”
"A Noble and Glorious Cause: The Life, Times, and Civil War Service of Captain Elijah W. Gibbons," mentions "...the near complete destruction of Captain Gibbons' Company B," on that December day in Fredericksburg.
End my note.
