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| Carrier of Co. B, 14th Regiment, Conn. Vols. From Sergeant T.B.E Small 1864 E11c, Connecticut Historical Society |
First, my note on the poem "Carrier of Co. B, 14th Regiment, Conn. Vols."
This was a unique find at the Connecticut Historical Society. It is a poem about all 101 of the original members of Company B, 14th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry, written by a Sergeant of that same company.
The individual who takes credit for writing this poem is a "Sergeant T. B. E." (See bottom right of the poem for author's initials; photo above).
For a while, I could not figure out who exactly the author was, as there is no one on the Company Muster Roll (which covers enlistment dates through 1864) with the initials "T. B. E.", and certainly not one who was a Sergeant!
To write what he did, the author had to be someone who was intimately acquainted with each of the original members of Co. B, so I knew a substitute or a draftee could never have written it. Then when I was transcribing the poem and staring at the initials "T. B. E." it came to me as sure as lighting bolt shoots from the sky!
Read the "T. B. E." initials backwards!
"E. B. T."
These are the initials of Sergeant Elnathan B. Tyler!
This is the same Elnathan B. Tyler who wrote "History of Company B," which is housed at Connecticut College. This is also the same Elnathan B. Tyler who wrote about the mortal wounding of Daniel Otis at Fredericksburg and how he was "one of the youngest and one of the best members of Co. B.” (To read more about what Tyler wrote, see "Daniel H. Otis: His Story," subheading: "One of the Best Members: "Mustered-Out.").
Obviously Sergeant Tyler was an avid and creative writer! He kept a journal about his military experiences and named it "History of Company B," and he wrote this poem too. But why the backwards initials? Was he seeking some type of anonymity?
There is something so personal and heartfelt about Tyler's poem, and every time I read it, these men of Co. B leap off the page and come alive anew. I have transcribed the poem below. Where Daniel Otis is mentioned, I highlighted it in bold. Enjoy!
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Carrier of Co. B, 14th Regiment, Conn. Vols.
[First Row]:
As a company we’re come
From the town of Middletown,
Not expecting to go home
‘Till we’ve put secession down.
When we left our native State
We had brave Gibbons us to lead;
Ah! How we deplored his fate,
When we knew he was dead.
Captain Broatch and Lucas too,
As our Lieutenants, were on hand
But they with Company B are through,
A and D they now command.
Orderly Sergeant, Charley Galpin,
Became Lieutenant of Company A,
Robert Russell and Johnny Pelton,
Both wear shoulder-straps to-day.
Sergeant Hubbard, fat and stout,
Company B all know him well;
Although of late what he’s about
Would puzzle most of us to tell.
And J. Frank Morgan, he is now
The Orderly of B Company;
He calls the roll and makes a row
With those inclined to be lazy.
Corporals Maitland, Beebe, Shaw,
Were wounded and are now at home:
But Shaw a Sergeants’ rank did hold,
Before he got his wounded arm.
Corporal Richard Singleton,
A clerk of General Doubleday’s
Was a good fellow, full of fun.
But he didn’t fancy army ways.
We left both him and Corp’l Bonney,
At Bolivar, long, long ago;
Uncle Sam ne’er made much money
Out of either of them two.
Lloyd belonged to the color guard,
He used to tend the telegraph;
A jolly fellow, somewhat hard,
But just the one to make you laugh.
‘Twas on the field of battle red,
To guard our flag he nobly tried;
But ‘neath a deathly shower of lead
He fell, he for our flag has died.
And then there’s Corporal Guernsey Smith,
He’s left us too, he lives in Durham;
As clever a fellow to be with,
As ever served good Uncle Sam.
The officer last without commission,
Was Corporal Tyler of Westfield;
he says he’s to the height of his ambition,
For a Sergeant’s rank by him is held.
Eugene S. Bowers blows the fife,
Pierre Hurlburt used to beat the drum;
of the fife corps Bowers was the life,
But Hurlburt’s now discharged, and at home.
Of privates on the muster roll,
Tom Allen’s name’s the first to come;
A jolly fellow heart and soul,
He’s been discharged, is now at home.
Lucius Bidwell, he is with us still,
But Nelson Bailey did not stay;
The rebels Charley Brook did kill
And Levi Burr he ran away.
Ike Brainard left us long ago,
Butler and Brewer both are dead;
And Corporal Henry Brooks we know
Has felt the weight of rebel lead.
He is in New Haven doing well,
George Brown we missed at Antietam;
Al Crittenden now’s a corporal
And Samuel Camp is in Durham.
Clark, Ashbel A. and Alpheus D.
And Capper too, I rather doubt,
Will ever be seen in Co. B,
Except when we are mustered out.
Jerry Corbit still is here,
Marvin Cook has been sent home,
William Clark is a Pioneer,
Cody a corporal has become.
Charles Crowell went to Washington.
To enter there a hospital;
Hen. Crowell keeps a splendid gun,
His rank is now a corporal.
Earl Campbell has a bearing down,
He wrote the President a letter;
Suppose he’s now in Middletown,
And his bearing down has got much better.
William H. Dean a private was,
Corporal and Sergeant he became;
And now he all our ration draws,
And distributes to us the same.
Dwight Davis left us very sick,
Pat Daily’s one of the color guard;
our first deserter was Bill Eck,
To catch him now would be quite hard.
[Middle Row]:
Hiram H. Fox has now become
A member of the Invalid corps;
Fairchild has gone to his long home,
His face we here shall see no more.
Next on the list comes Frank M. Goff,
He used to be a Pioneer,
But I supposed he is better off
In hospital, than he was here.
I’ll next proceed to Ira Graham,
Though not because his case is urgent.
Last of the squad that came from Durham,
He well does fill his place as Sergeant.
Chas. Galpin has got his discharge.
As for Tom Gleason, the next man,
Although in size not overlarge,
He is a good man for Uncle Sam.
At Gettysburg, Augustus Guild
Got an awful [?] his back;
A wonder he was not killed,
His presence here we still do lack.
Next comes little Billy Hall,
A rugged little fellow be;
Although he is so very small,
He’s tough as any in Company B.
Then corporal Samuel G. Huxham,
At Gettysburg he was shot dead;
Doing his duty like a man,
He fell, a bullet through his head.
Hilliker, Joseph and William B.,
Have both been gone above a year;
One lost an eye and cannot see,
The other is dead [?] do fear.
Clark Holmes is now, and long has been,
An attendant in our hospital;
Robert Hubbard one of the best of men
In Company B, died first of all.
Both Daniel Hubbard and Gilbert H.
Traveled with us to Bolivar;
But there some sickness they did catch
That’s taken them we know not where.
Inglis the other day was made
A corporal, a good one too;
But Malcom Ingham he was glad
When Uncle Sam with him was through.
There’s William Johnson and his son,
Both suffered on the battlefield.
The Invalid corps accounts for one,
The old man’s fate to [?] is sealed.
Sherman Johnson, the Pioneer,
The “Johnnies” have not yet devoured;
Wilbur Johnson still is here,
And now is our hospital steward.
Austin Judd and C.H. King;
Belong no more to company B;
Jim Karnes will get you on a sling
As well as any I ever see.
A Westfield man, Eugene Kenyon
Now claims a place upon this sheet;
We saw him last at Warrenton
But him on earth no more we’ll meet.
I glance again upon the roll,
Another Westfield name I see;
The name of one who heart and soul,
Devoted to his country.
David Lincoln was the man,
He fell on Frederick’s gory grounds;
And murmured not, as slowly ran
Life’s current, from his ghastly wounds.
McClusky’s now called “corporal Joe,”
He makes a tip top looking soger;
Murdock hain’t gone up very slow,
For he is now our Sergeant Major.
McBrayne was hit at Antietam,
And was discharged a short time since;
Bill Miller is the Captain’s man,
Although he was a soldier once.
James Marble as sorry wound did get,
And has got through with soldiering;
But George S. May is with us yet,
To do a job of joinering.
Next on the list comes Fred. B. Nye,
Son of Middletown physician;
To do his duty he does try,
And seems content with his condition.
At Fredericksburg, poor Daniel Otis,
Received what proved his fatal wound;
But Priest when Hooker did command us,
Was shot; he’s still away unsound.
And then there’s famous Wilbur Peck,
He’s eat so much and grown so tall,
Unless again he should get sick,
He stands a chance to live through all.
An orderly is Beauchamp Prior,
Of Pelton’s, in the Ambulance corps;
To us death’s work did seem most dire,
When William Russell was no more.
[Last Row]:
Another man, George Parmalee,
He, for a soldier was too lame,
And so a teamster meant to be;
But some good doctor sent him home.
There is David W. Robinson,
A dry old fellow with a joke;
But he was sent to Washington,
From the effects of a sunstroke.
Joseph Schleiter still is with us,
Does his duty like a man;
The death of Shailer made us miss
Another fine old veteran.
Martin Smith we have not seen
Since he was sick in Maryland;
But where friend William Smith had been,
At first we did not understand,
At Gettysburg he was detailed
To cook for hungry men,
But it seems he could not be prevailed
Upon, to always stay with them.
Bill Spencer left a year ago,
He quickly ran his soldier race;
But Edwin Stroud now takes the row
That’s usually called the Sergeant’s place.
James Sage a corporal became,
But soon after was taken sick;
Now I suppose he is at home,
Wishing us poor fellows all good luck.
Andrew Shirer, cheerful, pleasant,
We his youthful fate deplore;
Death, with soldier’s ever present,
Took him from us, evermore.
Louis Singlaub and Nelson Stow,
Music they both understood;
So they’ve instruments to blow,
In our regimental band.
Next we come to William Taylor,
He is a right good fellow too;
In Middletown he was a sailor,
But now he makes a soldier true.
At Fredericksburg, we lost two more,
Vandervoort and Enoch Wilcox, too;
The first is in the Invalid corps,
The other’s fate we do not know.
And then there is Wilcox, Benjamin C.
At Antietam he got a wound;
Discharged and now in Westfield, he
At last, [?] where be found.
And then there’s Dwight Wolcott, we all must
Remember well, in Company B,
At Fredericksburg he too was lost,
And yet his fate we did not see.
Last of all comes George E. Wood,
He did too much for one so small;
So the doctor said he need
Do no more duty now, at all.
We were full one hundred strong,
When we left our native state;
Scarce quarter of that throng
Gathers with us here of late.
We have seen hard times and rough,
Since we’ve come to old Virginia;
But we’ve not done one-half enough,
For our rebel friends, the “Johnnies.”
We have sent them leaden balls,
Cleared the woods from off their farms;
We’ve burned up their old fence rails,
Still they will not come to terms.
And to tell the honest truth,
We’ve done a deal for certain ones;
Given them free board up north,
Taken nothing from them but old game.
In fact, all sorts of ways we’er trying.
To make the “Johnnies” own and love us;
But still they think that we’re lying,
So when they get a chance they shove us.
Sometimes we have a warm debate,
Use arguments of telling foree;
Delivered at a fearful rate,
Through a trumpet drawn by horse.
Sometimes, in these debates, have we
Taken a most active part;
The “point” they almost make us see,
Then up they get, and leave “right smart.”
The other cases we have known,
Where want of argument and men
Have us into confusion thrown;
They’re apt to make us travel then.
Thus days, weeks, and months pass on,
We’re bound that, we’ll keep up good heart;
And when our solder duties done,
For Middletown we’ll make a start.
And truly grateful we shall be,
When we shall see our homes once more;
To feel that we again are free,
And Peace doth reign from shore to shore.
From Sergeant T. B. E.
