Part 5

On Saturday, April 11, 1863, the Twenty-fifth Connecticut, less than 500 strong, embarked on the steamer St. Mary, a New York and Galveston liner built to carry 500 passengers at a pinch, but loaded on this occasion with 2,500.

We were crowded. We were just packed as close as the squares of hardtack in the bread barrels, closer than sardines in a box. So close that we didn't have room to sweat. We had to hold our haversacks that contained three days' rations of sheet iron biscuit and salt pork, on our heads. The decks were covered with a solid mass of humanity. We cast off the lines and our ship slowly steamed up the Atchafalaya, now and then rubbing the banks so closely that we could grasp the branches of the magnolia and cypress that formed one green, unbroken fringe on either side.

General Emory's division of Banks' army had already moved up the west bank of the Bayou Teche, fighting its way against the fresh active troops of Dick Taylor. We were in General Cuvier Grover's division, and were expected to sail up Grand Lake and disembark at Hutchins Landing, where the Teche, by a sharp bend, comes within two miles of the lake; and on this narrow strip was the only road (as we supposed) over which an army and especially artillery and baggage wagons could pass. During Saturday night, Sunday, and Sunday night we were crammed, stifled and suffocated on the steamer's deck, as she slowly felt her way up through the muddy and shallow water of Grand Lake. To have run aground would have been disastrous failure to the whole expedition. Towing astern were large flat bottomed scows, loaded with artillery and artillery men. These were indispensable when on Monday morning we found that it was impossible for our ship to approach within half a mile of the shore, and the men were ferried from the steamer to the bank, where a lively little skirmish was going on between some Confederate scouts and Col. Dick Holcomb's First Louisiana. General Grover was ahead of us, smoking as usual, and in his excitement he had lighted a second cigar and was vigorously puffing and pulling at both corners of his mouth. He grasped Colonel Bissell by the hands in welcome, as the colonel leaped from the boat. No delay now, forward! A few hundred yards brought us to the woods. Our skirmishers went through and we soon had orders to follow. We halted at the open clearing on the other side and awaited to hear from General Grover, who had gone ahead to reconnoitre. Off to the southwest we could hear the artillery firing that told us that Emory's forces were having a fierce fight with Taylor's, only a few miles away. Another half mile advance, another halt and again forward. Just as the sun was going down we crossed the Teche over a drawbridge and filed into the main road and skirted the fertile plantation of Madame Porter. This stately, handsome lady, surrounded by scores of fat, happy looking and well clad slaves, stood in front of her elegant home and sadly watched us as we passed. No farm in Connecticut, however carefully supervised, could show better evidences of wise management than this. The houses, fences, granaries, fields, slave quarters and everything, were in perfect order--all were clean, whole, and systematically arranged. The fertile soil seemed to proclaim audibly to our farmer boys its readiness to give back a hundred and fifty fold for its seed and care. The shades of night were falling fast when we filed into an open ploughed field and moved by the right of companies to the rear into columns. We halted, stacked arms, ate hardtack and raw pork, and rested. The ground was soft alluvial; mist came with sundown and rain came with the darkness, and the surface of the earth was soon transformed into soft, deep mud. There was no noise, no music, no laughter. Every man knew instinctively that the morrow's sun would shine upon many a corpse. Our generals had believed, and we had hoped, that as soon as Taylor would find this large force of ours suddenly occupying the road in his rear, he would submit to the inevitable and surrender, but he had not surrendered and would not surrender, and that meant a fierce engagement for us. As soon as darkness had set in, General Grover sent up rockets to apprise General Banks of our position. Sleep was impossible. Colonel Bissell and I sat on a bread box, back to back, our feet in the soft mud and our clothing gradually absorbing the rain that fell steadily upon us. The hours dragged slowly along, and before daybreak our men were aroused, made a hasty breakfast, and in the grey of the morning we set out in advance of our brigade that consisted of the Thirteenth and Twenty-fifth Connecticut, Twenty-sixth Maine and One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York, Colonel Birge in command. We were all on foot, officers and men alike. Our horses, baggage, and impediments had been left at Brashear to follow the column of General Emory.

For a mile below Madame Porter's plantation the Bayou Teche runs to the southeast and then turns sharply to the southwest towards Franklin, a very pretty village, some five miles below. The road following the sinuosities of the stream runs parallel to it, with a strip of a few rods in width between. We enter an immense cane field, its furrows in line with the road. On the west the field was bounded by a rail fence, beyond which arose a dense wood of magnolias, cotton wood and semi-tropical trees looking like a long green wall. Far in front arose a transverse wall like to the first, and making at its intersection a right angle. At this angle, the road entered the wood, near to the ground this forest was absolutely impenetrable to the sight, by reason of the suffocating growth of briars, vines, palmettos and underbrush. We ought to have occupied these woods the night before, and have hemmed the enemy in the open beyond. We now knew that the foe was in our immediate front. We marched down the field, the right wing deployed as skirmishers, the left wing in close battalion front following a few rods in its rear. By and by a puff of smoke from the green wall in front of us and a second or two afterwards the crack of a rifle. The fight had begun; another puff, another crack then more and more, multiplying as we approached. The bend in the road is now disclosed, the enemy's skirmishers disappeared from our front to reappear in greater numbers on our right. Our skirmishers were called in and we changed front forward on first company, moved down towards the wood on the right, and halting about 150 yards from the fence, we poured a volley into the enemy's ranks. The One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York came down into line on our left, the Twenty-sixth Maine formed in our rear, the Thirteenth Connecticut took position on our extreme left occupying both sides of the road. The canes of the previous year's sugar crop stood in the field and their volley firing didn't get our range, and our lines were parallel with the furrows. The enemy's shot rattled through the dry stalks, crackling like hail against the windows. The enemy were armed with the smooth bores, every cartridge charged with a bullet and three buck shot, while our regiment was armed with Enfield rifles and so the Rebels, man for man were giving us four shots to our one in return.

The enemy had an immense advantage in position and the conviction was stealing over us that they had the advantage in numbers also. Our men had warmed up to their work; every soldier had long before drained the last drop from his canteen; the sun was rising high and hot and we learned then that there is no thirst so burning and terrible as that which seizes upon the soldier in battle. Every command given by the Confederate officers was as distinctly heard by us as if given in our own companies. Their lines already extended far beyond our flank and their oft-repeated cheers told us how rapidly their ranks were being increased by new arrivals. Suddenly a loud cheer from the Rebels; then the thundering war of a field piece, and in an instant from overhead came a crack, with a rain of iron fragments as a shell exploded right over our line; another roar, a crack, and iron shower and we see to our dismay two brazen guns admirably served, trained directly upon us pouring shell grape and cannister into our ranks, while their musketry fire grew hotter and fiercer than ever. Our men were nearing the end of their supply of ammunition. If the Confederates had charged upon us at this time they would have annihilated our brigade!

Wounded men were crawling to the rear, where Dr. Wood, with McGill and his assistants, stood under their yellow hospital flag. Col. Bissell's voice rang clear and cheerful as ever, but his face was anxious. Down into the field came Bradley's battery at a gallop and very soon their guns were answering the enemy's. Up went Bissell's sword, with a joyful cheer, as he shouted to Lieutenant Dewey "There's music in the air!" Our re-enforcements of artillery gave us renewed spirits but it was in vain to hope for victory against a better posted and overwhelming force.

Hurrah! At last, here comes Dwight's brigade. But suddenly, as if evoked by magic, arose a long gray line of armed men. They had crawled unperceived through the thick high canes and our first intimation of their presence was a murderous volley raking our lines from right to left. Bradley's battery was retreating to the rear, with nine of his men dead or disabled on the ground. "Fall back!" shouted the Colonel. Our right wing was in confusion and disorder. The left wing fell back steadily but only for a few rods, the advancing brigade opened ranks to let us pass and we halted and we formed in its rear and sank exhausted on the ground anxiously watching the fate of our gallant supporters. Ninety-five of our brave boys were dead or wounded, nine-tenths of them by that terrible flank fire. In our last five minutes on the field lay the lifeless bodies of Captain Hayden and young Lieutenant Dewey. Arnold and Wilson lay dead. Lieutenant Oliver had been carried from the field with a bullet in his head, to linger for six weeks before death came to his relief. Lieutenant Waterman stood resolute at the head of his company with his arm bandaged and bleeding. Lieutenant Harkness limped painfully along disabled by a spent bullet. John H. Hunt of Coventry had his side torn open by an explosion, and his sufferings were intense. It was strange that he didn't die instantly, yet he lingered for seven days. John Martin fell dead at the final volley from the Rebels. Old Button was carried off the field, his shoulder mangled, the bone splintered in the socket and with but a few days more of life before him. Graham lay dead. Brooks, the tall young sapling whose extraordinary height made him a conspicuous mark, had fallen pierced by a dozen bullets. Sergeant Taft, with a shattered arm, was carried off the field by his lieutenant. Brennan, Gray, Prindle, Lawton, Holden and Carlos Bissell lay dead. Cook lay mortally wounded. Lieutenant Banning was crippled for life. John Thompson of Ellington had a bullet hole through his jaws, incapacitating him for further service. Goodwin, Lincoln, and Avery Brown were also seriously injured in this battle, as were also many others whom I cannot name.

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April 16th. We started at seven o'clock, marching quite slowly through the day. We were on the way to Newton or New Iberia, distance about 35 miles from Irish Bend,--where the battle took place. It was very hot and dusty and the men were getting very foot sore; a good many had to fall out by the road-side to rest. We had formed a junction with Emory's division and Weitzel's brigade and were at this time in close pursuit of the enemy, seven miles from New Iberia. We had taken a large number of prisoners, three pieces of artillery and several caissons and the Confederates fearful of the gunboats Diana and the Queen of the West falling into our hands burned them. In addition to this the Arizona engaged and blew up a Rebel gunboat. We were in hot pursuit of the Rebels, our advance skirmishing with Rebel General Moulton's rear guard.

April 17th. We were up at three o'clock, and started soon after getting some hard-tack and coffee. Our division was alone, Emory's division having taken a different route. We made a hard march of twenty miles. A great many men fell out, but we pushed the Rebels hard. At 5 P.M. they made a stand and an artillery duel ensued in which we lost a few men. The Confederates then retired, burning the bridge over the bayou. We then halted for the night, supposing that our next move would be Alexandra, via Opelousas, which since the capture of Baton Rouge had been the capital of the state of Louisiana.

April 19th, Sunday. This morning we had a hard thunder shower, arousing us from our bunks and soaking us thoroughly. We started on the march at eight o'clock. It was very muddy and we had to march very slow on that account. We went into camp at night pretty well fagged out. About midnight I was called up to go out quite a distance to an out-post on picket. We had a very hard time of it, for we had to be up until morning and stand by our arms.

April 20th. We marched rather slow on account of it being so excessively hot. We forded quite a bayou where the Rebels had burned another bridge. We went into camp at night at Opelousas, where we expected to have a fight but on our approach, we found the Rebels had retreated from the town, which was pretty good news for us.

Opelousas, April 21st. I will endeavor to give a few of my experiences at this place. Here General Banks gave his worn and tired army a rest. The Twenty-fifth Connecticut took position about seven miles east of headquarters, at Barre's Landing. While we privates were enjoying a suspension of active operations, the officers were unusually busy, as their numbers were greatly reduced by resignation, sickness and death. We were still wondering why that long looked for paymaster had not blessed us with his appearance and we were still in despair about it. Since the battle of Irish Bend we pressed the Confederates hard all the way to Opelousas, fighting their rear guard and taking prisoners every day. Our cavalry made a fierce charge at New Iberia. With sabers drawn they charged into the Texicans, scattering them in every direction. We were then at the port of Opelousas and shipping cotton at a great rate. We had shipped some two thousand bales; there was still a large quantity at the landing and more coming in hourly. We had to all take hold and help load it on the boat. While we were out on picket one day we had the good luck to come across one hundred and thirty bales. Opelousas was a very pleasant little city of several thousand inhabitants. There were some splendid mansions with grounds laid out in fine style. There was a small foundry in the place and two magazines; one of its three churches was stored with powder and ammunition, abandoned by the Confederates in their flight. The people were more Union than any we had previously seen and were of a better class. Provisions were sold at fabulous prices; eggs fifty cents a dozen, coffee five dollars a pound, and flour fifty dollars a barrel, and scarcely any at that. We learned from some of our Rebel prisoners how their soldiers lived. They had only one commissary wagon drawn by three yoke of oxen for an army of five thousand men. They lived principally upon the plantations as they passed along, as we had done.

The slaves appeared to me, all the way through this long march, to be contented and happy with their families in their cabins. I think they lived principally on corn which they ground by hand power and made into corn bread and hoe cake, with plenty of sweet potatoes which grew abundantly in Louisiana. I think they must have gotten along pretty well. At many plantations where the Union soldiers would stop at nightfall for chickens, the slaves would come out of their cabins and plead with us to let them be. This, our boys were very loath to do, and I don't know as anyone could blame them, for a good chicken was a great temptation after a long hard day's march.

May 5th. We started on our return march this morning very early. We came through a little village by the name of Washington. We marched twenty miles and went into camp for the night very tired and some very foot-sore. I was sick all day but managed to keep up with the regiment. It was very hot and dry.

May 7th. This morning I was sick and got a pass from Doctor Wood, our army surgeon, to go on to the ambulance wagon. But found on investigation that there was no room for me, as the wagons were full of sick men unable to sit up. Therefore I was obliged to ride on a baggage wagon all day. Went into camp at night feeling some better. Went out with other comrades and bought some chickens of the darkies. About this time the paymaster arrived. It was a time of great interest to the men, as we had not been paid for more than four months. A great many wanted to send money to their families and friends who, in some cases were in great need. But we were about two hundred miles from New Orleans, the nearest point from which money could be sent with safety. There were no Confederates in arms between us and New Orleans but the country was full of men who had broken all laws and who held any human life very cheap, when money was at stake. How to send home the money the soldiers could spare was a very important question. In a chapter printed elsewhere in this book, entitled "How the Pay of the Regiment was Carried to New Orleans by Lieutenant Henry Hill Goodell," it will be told how it was accomplished.

On May 21st we received marching orders and about noon we embarked on board the little steamer Empire Parish along with the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York and the Thirteenth Connecticut. I wonder if anyone can imagine how crowded we were, also taking into consideration that a good many of the soldiers were inclined to be troublesome. Colonel Bissell was taken quite sick at about this time and had to find a place to lie down. Soon after 3 P.M., while the rest of the boats were being loaded we shipped from the dock and away up the Atchafalaya to the Red River where we passed the Switzerland and another little boat watching for Rebel craft. Here we slipped down the Red River to the Mississippi, where we came upon the grim old Hartford, Rear Admiral Farragut's flagship. The Thirteenth Connecticut band saluted her as we passed, with "The Star Spangled Banner" and "Yankee Doodle." At about midnight we went ashore at Bayou Sara, sixteen miles from Port Hudson. A portion of our brigade marched on and left our regiment to unload the boats. It was after 2 A.M. before we had any chance to lie down.

May 22nd, at about four o'clock, we started, breakfastless, to overtake the rest of our brigade. Colonel Bissell was left at a house with a guard. Major McManus assumed command of the regiment. We marched a short distance and found the remainder of our brigade encamped at St. Francisville, which was upon a hill the first we had seen since coming to Louisiana. Soon after eight o'clock our column was set in motion, the Third brigade in advance. As we passed through the village of St. Francisville the people thronged to the doors. Some would curse and swear, while others seemed glad to see us. One woman in a spiteful tone called out to another woman: "Come in, for God's sake, and don't stay there looking at those Yankee devils." The manners of these Southern women were astonishing. They would curse and call us vile names and call upon God to save a just cause. We had a hard march climbing up hill between magnificent hedges of jessamine in bloom, the flowers of which were very beautiful. We advanced very slowly for it was quite warm and the dust was stifling. To add to all this it was a terrible country to skirmish through. We had two men seriously wounded during that day. At about 4 o'clock we halted and our regiment was ordered to the front as advance picket for the night. We deployed into a field near a beautiful creek,--Thompson's,--where the water was knee-deep and very clear. Our forces were ordered across the creek to the edge of the adjoining woods. After a short skirmish we succeeded in accomplishing our object. It rained quite hard and we had to be upon the watch most of the night.

May 23rd. We started on the march, our men pretty well tired out by two nights' duty. But we had no mercy shown us. The Twenty-fifth regiment was ordered to take the advance as skirmishers and a hard time we had of it, forcing our way through bamboo brake, pushing over vine and bushes, wading through water, scratching and tearing ourselves with thorns and stumbling over ploughed fields. It was very hard work and many a strong man gave out with fatigue and exhaustion. At 10 o'clock A.M. we met the advance of Colonel Grierson's cavalry. Our wearied column of soldiers were called in, therefore we were very much pleased to see them. We advanced a short distance and halted near a well of delicious cool water, some two miles from Port Hudson. In a few minutes, General Augur rode up and held a conference with General Grover.

At 7 P.M. I was detailed to go on picket. Rather rough on a fellow to be two days and nights on duty. But a soldier's first duty is to obey without grumbling and so I went, but I could hardly keep from going to sleep. It was a beautiful moonlight night and I stood and watched the bombs from the mortar boats curling around in the sky and bursting in a fiery show, making a splendid sight. The night passed quietly, save for a couple of false alarms. At about 5 o'clock A.M., Jared Wells, my old tent mate, and I went out blackberrying. In a little while we had enough for a good meal for ourselves and some for the boys in camp. This was the 24th of May, under the guns of Port Hudson. We got back into camp about 9 o'clock and commenced making preparations for a Sunday advance on the fortifications. The Second Brigade was in advance and the Twenty-fourth Connecticut lost a few men; at about noon the first earthworks were taken and we deployed into the woods on our right. We lay here for two long hours while shells burst all around us, but we were mercifully preserved, though in great danger.

Soon after 4 P.M., our regiment was ordered out as picket-skirmishers and we were stationed behind trees all through the woods to keep the enemy back. On our right was the Thirteenth Connecticut and on the left was the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York. This was the third night that we had been on duty and we were pretty well tired out but it seems they hadn't got through with the Twenty-fifth yet.

May 25th. At about 9 A.M. we were relieved and called in. As we were being relieved by the Twelfth Maine we had to pass over a place commanded by the sharpshooters of the enemy. The bullets whizzed most unpleasantly near, killing one man of the Thirteenth Connecticut. We thought that after being relieved we should get some rest. But about as soon as we got into camp we were ordered to fall in again. We marched out of the woods, over the hill and the entrenchments taken the day before, immediately coming under a sharp fire from the Rebel sharpshooters. We were immediately ordered to fire upon them and drive them out. After a sharp skirmish of half an hour we drove them clear out of the woods and into their rifle-pits. We then occupied the woods, and we kept up such a sharp fire upon them that not one of the rascally Rebs dared lift his head above the works. We were just in time to save the Twelfth Maine from being flanked and cut to pieces.

About 3 P.M. General Weitzel's brigade attacked, and after a severe fight, drove the Rebels out of the woods. While this was going on our right, we could hear the yells, hurrahs and the crackle of musketry, roar of artillery and many other concomitants of the fight, but could see but little. Consequently we stood and fidgeted round not knowing when our turn might come.

May 26th. Our regiment remained on the reserve till 5 P.M., when the four right companies were ordered to the front. We had a splendid view of an artillery duel. The work of Nim's battery was perfect. Our artillery unlimbered two or three guns and their fire was so sharp, the Rebel gunners did not dare load their pieces.

May 27th. We were relieved at about 6 P.M., by the Twelfth Maine regiment, but we were almost immediately ordered out to the support of Nim's battery which had just been put into position. Here we lay five or six hours while the enemy's shells burst in most unpleasant proximity. Then our regiment and the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York were ordered out to the support of General Weitzel on our right. We marched on the double-quick down through the woods, when we were ordered by General Grover to advance to the front and carry the earthworks. We were informed that there were hardly any Rebels there. Major Burt of the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth, who was in command, was told that his regiment alone would be able to carry the works and to send back our regiment if it wasn't needed. But we found out very soon that our assistance would be necessary to carry the earthworks. We rushed on through the woods and down a hill, swept by the enemy's artillery. Here we turned to the right and emerged on to a plain. I shall never forget that sight. The valley was filled with felled trees, and heavy underbrush, while thick and black rolled the battle-smoke. There was a hill on our left, strongly entrenched and from here loomed up a big gun. Just below on a little bridge was planted a stand of the Stars and Stripes, the glorious old banner, and gathered around it stood a handful of brave men firing a stream of bullets upon that piece. For six long hours the gunners did not dare approach to load and that wicked looking gun was kept silent. It was here that we had a taste of real war in all its horrors. It was a sort of a floating panorama that passed before me, a hideous dream. There was a roaring and crashing of artillery, bursting of shells and the rattle of muskets, with hissing and whistling of minie balls and battle-smoke lowering down upon us. There were men dropping here and there and all the horrid experiences of war. Still we kept on; there was a short turn to the right and in single file we commenced ascending through a deep ravine. Wading through water, stumbling over and under fallen trees, we finally came to a pit about six feet deep; when we had gotten out of that we were on the side of the hill where we had to prepare to make a charge. It was a wicked place to charge. The nature of the ground was such it was impossible to form in battle line, so to make the attack in three columns over felled trees which were cris-crossed in every shape imaginable. We waited here for a few moments with beating hearts, waiting for the forward charge. The word came and with a terrifying yell we rose to our feet and rushed forward. It was a terrible time, when bounding over the last tree and crashing through some brush we came out within a short distance of the enemy's entrenchments, and it seemed as though a thousand rifles were cracking our doom. This fire was too deadly for men to stand against. Our brave fellows, shot down as fast as they could come up, were beaten back. Then occurred one of those heroic deeds we sometimes read about. The colors of the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth were left on the hill, their color sergeant having been killed. Corporal Buckley of our regiment calmly worked back in that terrific fire, picked up the dear old flag and brought it in, turned to pick up his gun and was killed. He was a noble fellow and much beloved in the regiment.

Resting here a short time, we made a second charge with the same deadly results. Our regiment and the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York lost 80 men killed and wounded. It was a terrible position we were in. Sharpshooters on the left picking us off; sharpshooters on right giving it to us and the rifle pits in front. Here we had to stay till after 10 o'clock that night when the order came to fall back, which we did, bringing off our wounded. I was so tired I fell asleep and barely woke in time to get away. We had several killed and wounded in our regiment. I will say here that our little company was not entirely dissolved at this time though reduced to less than 20 men. Our colonel we missed sadly, but earnestly hoped to welcome him back soon. Our regiment numbered 162 men and eight officers at this time.

May 28th. There was lively firing this morning on the picket lines, but the cannons were quiet. We were expecting reinforcements and we needed them if we were ever to take Port Hudson. This was the seventh day of the siege and we were pretty well fagged out. We had to fight for every foot of ground. But we had carried the first two earthworks by storm. It had been one continual fight since we started in but there was a cessation of hostilities for a short time, and the lull was a great relief, for my ears had been half-deafened by the awful roar of artillery and cracking of musketry. There were three men killed and about twenty wounded, and thirty in our regiment missing. Again in our little company we had several wounded, one fatally. So I think that I must have been in great danger several times, but I felt that a kind Providence watched over me, and brought me out safely. The regiment at this time was under the command of Major McManus, Colonel Bissell being sick with remittent fever at Bayou Sara and the lieutenant-colonel prostrated at New Orleans. The colored regiments fought bravely and made some splendid charges.

May 31st. There has been some firing by the infantry and artillery during the day. About ten o'clock last night we withdrew our forces very cautiously, bringing away all the wounded we could reach, but there were some poor unfortunates lying up under the breastworks that it was impossible to reach. Every time we tried to get to them the Rebs would fire on us. We threw them canteens of water but it was of little use. We marched back and lay upon the battlefield of the preceding day.