Part 2

I was a Vernon Center boy but was working in the town of Glastonbury, when the war broke out, with Hubbard and Broadhead at teaming and farm work. At this time the gloom was deep but the people were not discouraged. At the request of the governors of eighteen loyal states, President Lincoln, on July 2nd, 1862, called out three hundred thousand men for three years' service, and on August 4, ordered a call for three hundred thousand men for nine months. At this time it was hard to tell what one's duty was, but I had made up my mind to go and of course I have never been sorry, as I look back and say with just pride that I was one who went out to help save our Republic from dissolution and preserve civilization itself on this Western Hemisphere from destruction.

I fear I have been wandering from my subject already but I could not help giving expression to the thoughts that were burning within me. Yes, I was a Vernon Center boy, my father moving there when I was sixteen years old. I enlisted September 2nd, 1862, in Company G, Twenty-fifth Regiment, C.V. Our company met in Hartford, near the old State House (what is now City Hall), on the morning of September 8th. We marched down to camp before noon on that day, but instead of finding tents to sleep in we found a string of barracks long enough for a thousand men. I want to tell you how they looked as I remember them. They resembled the cattle sheds that we see nowadays at our fairs, except that they were built with three tiers, instead of one. The bunks were made for two men, one above the other, about four feet wide. Of course we had to have a little straw to lay over the "soft side" of the boards. This building I believe we named "The Palace Hotel" because of its "great beauty and comfort." I wonder if you can imagine how tempting those bunks looked after leaving the good beds that we had been accustomed to. I think there were some pretty homesick boys that first night in our new quarters, if I remember correctly. But the food! Well, I don't think I had better say much about that, for I had been a farmer boy and I think I had the advantage over some of the boys, as I knew what it was to rough it and go without my dinner in the winter time when the days were short and I would be out in the woods all day chopping, or drawing logs with an ox team.

We left our old camp ground on November 18, 1862, with flying colors, to the tune of "Dixie" and "The Star Spangled Banner," and other patriotic airs. But all this did not occur without many tearful eyes, for the streets were crowded with friends and loved ones that were to be left behind. We pulled out of the dock at the foot of State street on the steamer City of Hartford about four o'clock in the afternoon. We arrived at Williamsburg, L.I., early the next morning, and the good people of that city treated us with all the sandwiches and coffee that we wanted. We marched about ten miles, with a portable bureau or what you might call a knapsack on our backs, before one o'clock that day, to the Centerville race course. We pitched our tents and made things as comfortable as we could for the night as you must know it was quite cold weather, it being the last of November. There is no place that reveals the real character of a man so quickly and so clearly as a shelter tent in an army on the field. All there is in him, be it noble or base, strong or weak, is brought to the front by the peculiar experiences of the soldier. The life of a soldier in camp is tedious and wearisome, but when a regiment starts for the field under a government not prepared for war (ours was not), the real trials of the soldier begin. When our regiment arrived at the camp at Centerville, after a march of ten miles, we found that no provision had been made for us,--and it now being the last of November. In the small hours of the morning Colonel Bissell drilled the regiment on a double quick movement on the race course to warm us up. The regiment was ordered to embark on November 29. The Twenty-fifth regiment was to have started on Saturday when lo! just as we were drawn up in line preparatory to a start, General Banks' orderly gallops up, bringing an order for Companies C, D, F, and G to remain behind and go with the Twenty-sixth Connecticut. Here was a pretty fix, for tents, baggage, and everything had already gone. To add to our troubles up came one of the hardest rainstorms, such as only Long Island can produce. As there was no other place, we were compelled to quarter in the old barn which was later turned into a guard house, where we slept on bare boards. Not a wisp of straw had we to lie on, for it was so rainy we could not gather any.

On the evening of the fourth of December, we received marching orders, and at about 8 o'clock, we were very glad to get away from this forsaken place, which we did in a hurry. We arrived in Brooklyn about 12 o'clock that night and I assure you it was no easy matter to find a place to stay till morning. It was a long cold December night. The men got places wherever they could find them. I and several other comrades stayed with a Doctor Green. We were up early in the morning and the doctor wanted us all to stay and have breakfast with him, an invitation which we accepted with thanks. I wrote a letter to my mother while there.

On the morning of the fifth of December we embarked on the steamer Empire City with the Twenty-sixth Connecticut Regiment. The men of the Twenty-sixth were in the hold of the vessel while the Twenty-fifth men took a deck passage which we didn't appreciate especially at this season of the year, December 6th. We left the Atlantic Dock, Brooklyn, at six o'clock that morning. We hadn't been out long before the water became quite rough and the steamer plunged and rolled dreadfully which made the soldiers very sea-sick.

December 7th was dark and boisterous and the good old ship creaked and swayed on the mighty deep. By the way, I hadn't been sea-sick since we left the Atlantic dock, but I could not help laughing, the first day we were out, to see the guards of the vessel from stem to stern lined up with anxious sea-gazers, their knees knocking together, their countenances ashen and a very intimate connection evidently existing between the stomach and the mouth. Even my risibiles were aroused though myself not entirely insensible to the attractions of Neptune.

December 8th. It was Sunday and when daylight came it brought with it a calmer sea and a more jolly set of soldiers, although the water was several inches deep on deck. That day was spent, as all others, without any religious exercises so we had nothing to do but watch the porpoises, of which there had been a great many in sight all day.

We had been out of sight of land since the previous day at noon. Well, we had found out where our expedition was going. It was going to sea. One thing was certain, we were going pretty far south.

December 9th. The weather had become quite fine. The boys had, most of them, gotten over being sea-sick. As the Twenty-sixth boys began to feel as though they had rather be on deck than down in that dirty hole, we were in pretty close quarters, for I think there were as many as twelve hundred men on this old unseaworthy ship which had been used as a transport in the California trade for a great many years. So I was told by Harlan Skinner, who went out as Sutler's clerk of the Twenty-fifth Regiment. (He was a brother of Town Clerk Francis B. Skinner of Rockville and went to California on board of her in 1849.)

December 10th. We were still out of sight of land. Some of us might be imagined reading the Bible or some other interesting book and others were lying asleep on deck, while the rest were watching and wondering where we were going to land, I suppose.

December 11th. It was much warmer, and very pleasant. We were still out of sight of land. Spying an English vessel, we ran up the Stars and Stripes and they ran up their flag to let us know that all was right. Some of the boys sang out, just for a little fun, that the old Rebel gunboat Alabama was in sight.

December 12th we came in sight of the coast of Florida. We had seen the trees and the snow white beach about all day. We also saw several lighthouses. The porpoises and flying fish attracted a great deal of attention and when a school came in sight, all eyes were turned upon them.

December 13th. It has been very pleasant and there has been a smooth sea, consequently we have had a very pleasant day's sail, with a cool breeze. We have been out of sight of land all day, and we long to be on shore once more. As we are so dove-tailed in, when we try to lie down at night, we get very little sleep.

December 14th, Sunday. We were now in the Gulf of Mexico and there had not been a living thing in sight all day. We had a sermon preached on deck. The text was, "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain."

December 15th. We arrived at Ship Island at noon and found about the most God forsaken, miserable hole, man ever got into. The sand was ankle deep everywhere. And such a lot of Negroes; shiftless, lazy dogs, black as the ace of spades and twice as natural. But the little "nigs" kill me outright, they looking so much like a lot of monkeys, I know of nothing so comical. I could sit half the morning watching them and hearing them jabber.

December 16th. We arrived at the mouth of the Mississippi River. A pilot came aboard and took us over the bar in the river in compliance with the rules of navigation. We had a very pleasant day's sail coming up the old Mississippi. We saw many half clad slaves on the banks who seemed much pleased to think that Massa Lincoln's soldiers were coming to set them free. We arrived in New Orleans, La., on the 17th of December and got our fill of oranges and victuals before the peddlers were stopped from supplying us.

I want to tell you here what a beautiful sight a sunrise and sunset is at sea. There is something very fascinating about it.

We arrived at Carrollton, just above New Orleans, and went ashore at Camp Parapet, on the morning of December 18. We pitched our tents in the afternoon and were very glad to be on land once more and have room to lie down at night.

This completes my narrative of our sea voyage which I certainly have never forgotten, after having such an experience as I had on a vessel crowded to its utmost capacity and a deck passage at that.

December 19th. We have cleaned up, washed our clothing and are drying it upon our backs, thereby saving the trouble of hanging it on the bushes to dry.

December 20th. We received our rifles and now I suppose we shall have to put on our accoutrements and get right down to drilling in the manual of arms.

December 21st. I was on guard for the first time at Camp Parapet. I am beginning to find out that camp life in Hartford, Connecticut, was quite different from camp life of instruction at Camp Parapet, La.

From this date I shall omit many of the dates and unimportant events of camp life, as one day we drill the next have inspection, so every day brings us many troubles.

Christmas Day. We don't expect a very elaborate dinner. No doubt we shall be thinking of the good things our friends and loved ones are having at home. Such was a soldier's life fifty years ago.

December 30th. Wrote a letter to mother and put some small magnolia leaves, a magnolia bud, a live oak, a cypress and several other varieties into it which I have in my possession to this day. I had an exquisitely fine sympathy with vegetable life in all its forms and especially with trees.

I wrote at that time: "The country charms me with its magnificent lemon and orange groves. The trees are perfectly bowed down with their weight of fruit. Upon my word, I am in love with the Sunny South. I think when this cruel war is over and I can find my affinity, I shall settle down in this beautiful country for life. But I am not thinking much about that just now, for the girls are not much in love with the Union soldiers. The ladies here wear secesh cockades in their bonnets and it is really amusing to see the curl of the lip and the contempt of countenance with which they sweep by us. Of course it is no wonder, when we take into consideration the way they have always lived, and thought that they were fighting for a just cause."

The object of our expedition was to cooperate with General Grant in the reduction of Vicksburg, but General Banks did not know until he arrived at New Orleans that Port Hudson was fortified and manned by almost as large a force as he could bring against it, or that fifty miles west of New Orleans was a force of five or six thousand men ready to move on the city and cut his lines of communication the moment he moved up the river. In addition to this he was furnished with transportation for only one division of his army and instructions from General Grant. There was only one thing that could be done and that was to destroy the Confederate Army west of the Mississippi; before he could, with safety, leave New Orleans in the rear, and advance on Port Hudson. Therefore, concentrating his army at Donaldsonville, we marched across the country to Burwick's Bay and followed up the Bayou Teche to Alexandra, on the Red River, to the Mississippi. We advanced upon Port Hudson from the north.

On the 15th of January, 1863, our regiments at New Orleans were sent up the river. We went on board a little steamer, called the Laurel Hill at about eight o'clock in the evening. We arrived in Baton Rouge about one o'clock on the sixteenth of January and had our tents pitched before night. We were brigaded with the Thirteenth Connecticut, the Twenty-sixth Maine and the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York, under Colonel H. W. Birge as brigade commander. These regiments formed the Third Brigade of the Fourth Division of the Nineteenth Army Corps, General Grover division commander.