The story of the Thirty Eighth regiment of Massachusetts volunteers

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Title: The story of the Thirty Eighth regiment of Massachusetts volunteers
Author: Powers, George W.
Language: English
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EIGHTH REGIMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS ***

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.

THE STORY

OF THE

THIRTY EIGHTH REGIMENT

MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS.

GEORGE W. POWERS.

[Illustration]

Cambridge Press:
DAKIN AND METCALF.
1866.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
GEORGE W. POWERS.
In the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the
District of Massachusetts.

PREFACE.

In the following pages, an attempt has been made to present a
connected and reliable account of the movements of the Thirty Eighth
Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers during its term of service in
the army of the United States. It has not been the purpose of the
writer to describe the movements of armies, or chronicle the results
of campaigns, except to illustrate more fully the doings of the
regiment. Even in the record of battles, he has rather endeavored to
confine himself to the particular part taken by the regiment, than to
any more extended view; and has preferred to give more prominence to
those smaller matters peculiar to its experience. Nothing has been
drawn from imagination, and no attempt made at word-painting. Neither
has it been attempted to describe the scenery of the country, or the
manners of the people, in the region where the regiment performed its
service. The scope of the work would not allow of this.

Where all, or nearly all, did their duty to the best of their
ability, it would be invidious to single out a few, and bring them
into prominent notice. Consequently, individual names seldom occur
in the text; and where they do, it is only to illustrate some
movement, or give a clearer idea of the occurrences alluded to.
During thirty-two of the thirty-five months’ service here recorded,
the writer was constantly with his regiment, and noted down the
daily events, for the benefit of friends at home. For the remaining
time, including a large part of the campaign in the Shenandoah, when
he was sick in hospital, he is indebted to the letters, diaries,
and conversations of his messmates, Messrs. Joseph G. Bartlett,
Richard A. Fitzgerald, and Nathaniel Monroe. He would also return
his thanks to Adjutant Wellington, for valuable official papers, and
for assistance, and to Lieut.-Col. Richardson, and Captains Rundlet,
Bennett, Jewell, Howland, and Davis, for the muster-out rolls of the
regiment.

The writer is well aware that the same objects are seen by different
parties in a widely different light; and he has had a lively
illustration of the fact while endeavoring to learn the movements
of the regiment during his absence; for, while all agreed as to the
main points, as soon as details were entered upon there was a wide
difference of opinion, or of memory. However, he trusts that nothing
essential has been misstated.

The roll of the regiment was compiled from duplicate copies of the
muster-out rolls taken at Savannah, with the exception of Companies
B and H, which were copied from the rolls in the office of the
Adjutant General, whose assistants courteously permitted them to
be used. These rolls contain the particulars relating to each
man as far as known at the muster-out of the regiment. Additional
items have been obtained from the non-commissioned officers of the
various companies, and much care taken to have this portion of the
work correct. But owing to the frequent carelessness and neglect of
hospital officials in sending returns to the regiment, and from other
causes, errors may have crept in, which will not be wondered at,
considering the numerous dates and other minutiæ recorded. With all
its faults, the author commends it to his comrades and to the friends
of the regiment, with the hope that it may occasionally revive old
associations, and keep alive old memories.

G. W. P.

BOSTON, December, 1865.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. PAGE

State of the country in the summer of 1862—Call for six hundred
thousand volunteers—The Thirty Eighth rendezvous at Lynnfield and
West Cambridge—Visit of Cos. A, B, and F, to the City of
Cambridge—Departure of the Regiment from the State—Passage through
Philadelphia—Arrival at Baltimore—Camp Belger, 1

CHAPTER II.

Leave Belger—Visit of Baltimore Ladies—Camp Cram—Religious
Services—Drills—Band—Marching Orders—Camp Emory—Return of Co. K to
Regiment—Cold Weather—Departure from Emory—Take Transports—Fortress
Monroe—Target-Shooting—Washing in Salt Creek, 15

CHAPTER III.

Departure from Fortress Monroe—Sea-voyage—Arrival at Ship
Island—Christmas Day—Embark for New Orleans—Up the Mississippi—Land
at Carrollton—Camp Kearney—Col. Ingraham in command of
Brigade—Plaquemine Expedition—Unpleasant Duty—Break Camp preparatory
to taking the Field, 26

CHAPTER IV.

Baton Rouge—Review by General Banks—March on Port Hudson—Passage
of the Batteries by Hartford and Albatross—Burning of the
Mississippi—Return to Baton Rouge—Wood-chopping—Embark for
Algiers—Easter Incident—Take Cars for Brashear—Berwick City, 49

CHAPTER V.

On the March again—Co. F Detached to guard Bridge—Centreville—Battle
of Bisland—Pursuit of the Enemy—Franklin—District of the
Tèche—Neutral Flags—A Day’s Rest—Fording a Bayou—Opelousas, 63

CHAPTER VI.

Camp at Opelousas—Cotton versus Potatoes—Fourth Wisconsin
Cavalry—Term “boys” not to be used in Third Brigade—Arrival of
Grierson’s Cavalry at Baton Rouge—The March resumed—Alexandria—Red
River—Start for the Mississippi—Morganza, 80

CHAPTER VII.

Cross the Mississippi—Bayou Sara—Storm—St. Francisville—Approach
Port Hudson—Skirmish on the 25th of May—Negro Soldiers—Battle
of May 27—Death of Lieut.-Col. Rodman—The Ravines, 88

CHAPTER VIII.

Relieved—March to Clinton—Great Heat—Deserting a Plantation—Return
to Port Hudson—Assault on the 14th of June—Heavy Loss in the
Thirty Eighth, 101

CHAPTER IX.

After the Battle—Great Mail—Burial of the Dead—Remove into the
Ravines—Deserters—Fall of Vicksburg—Surrender of Port Hudson—A
Disappointment—Stores Plains—Night March to Baton Rouge—Embark
for Donaldsville—Dress-Parades—Six Months’ Pay, 112

CHAPTER X.

Back to Baton Rouge—The Highland Road—Camp Rodman—Bivouac on the
Boulevards—A and K detailed for Provost Duty—Co. I sent to
Plaquemine—Camp Banks—Picket Duty—Cold Weather—New Year’s
Ball—Visit of Mr. Wellington—Flag-Raising—Recruits, 119

CHAPTER XI.

The Spring Campaign—Leave Baton Rouge—Port Hudson again—Fort de
Russy—Red River Country—Alexandria—Departure of the Army for
Shreveport—The Second Division left at Alexandria—Disaster—The
Thirty Eighth embark on the Mittie Stephens—Guerilla Attack—Grand
Ecore, 126

CHAPTER XII.

Grand Ecore—What caused the Repulse?—Retreat through the Pine
Woods—Battle of Cane River—Rear-Guard—The Retreat continued—
Arrival at Alexandria, 133

CHAPTER XIII.

The Fleet in Danger—Red River Dammed—Foraging Expedition—Departure
from Alexandria—Captured Mails—Battle of Mansura Plains—Scarcity
of Water—On the Old Road—Reach the Atchafalaya—Engagement in
the Rear, 143

CHAPTER XIV.

Cross the Atchafalaya—The Fleet and Army part Company—Morganza—
Saw-mill Expedition—Up the River—Embark for Algiers—Serenade the
Lieutenant-colonel—Good-by to Louisiana, 150

CHAPTER XV.

Arrival at Fortress Monroe—Washington—Georgetown Heights—Monocacy
Junction—Up and down the Valley of the Shenandoah—Battle of
Opequan Creek, 158

CHAPTER XVI.

The Pursuit—Congratulatory Order—Fisher’s Hill—Gen. Emory—Mount
Jackson—Mount Crawford—Cedar Creek—Build Breastworks—Surprise—
Battle of Cedar Creek—Fall back to Kearnstown—Martinsburg—
Thanksgiving, 168

CHAPTER XVII.

Preparations for Winter—Log-huts—Break Camp—Winchester—Provost
Duty—Baltimore—The Stables—Visit of Rev. Dr. Ware—Extracts
from Letters, 178

CHAPTER XVIII.

Departure from Baltimore—Arrival at Savannah—Desolation of the
City—Sherman begins his March through the Carolinas—Conflagration—
Gen. Grover in Command of the Post—Music in the Park—Marching
Orders, 190

CHAPTER XIX.

Hilton Head—Cape Fear River—Paroled Prisoners—Wilmington—Morehead
City—Newbern—Back to Morehead—Fatigue Duty and Oysters—An
Alarm—Battle of Petersburg—All aboard for Goldsborough—Sherman’s
Army—Surrender of Lee—Assassination of the President—Surrender
of Johnston—Morehead again—Transport—Rubber Coffee—Savannah, 197

CHAPTER XX.

Change in Savannah—Southern Ladies and Clergy—Portion of the
Brigade go to Augusta—Habits of the Country People—Jeff.
Davis—Cos. C and G go to Darien—Arrival of First Division—Scarcity
of Muster Rolls—Want of Transportation—Start for Home—Gallop’s
Island—Reception in Cambridge, 209

IN MEMORIAM, 233

ROLL OF REGIMENT, 242

[Illustration: Story of the Regiment.]

THE

STORY OF THE THIRTY EIGHTH.

CHAPTER I.

State of the country in the summer of 1862—Call for six hundred
thousand volunteers—The Thirty Eighth rendezvous at Lynnfield
and West Cambridge—Visit of Cos. A, B, and F, to the City of
Cambridge—Departure of the Regiment from the State—Passage through
Philadelphia—Arrival at Baltimore—Camp Belger.

The Thirty Eighth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers was organized
in the summer of 1862, under the call, issued on the 1st of July, for
three hundred thousand men to serve for three years. For a better
understanding of the circumstances under which it was raised, a brief
glance will be taken at the state of the country, and the feeling
of the great body of the people in regard to the war. From the very
beginning of the struggle, it was felt that Virginia was to be the
scene of the severest conflicts; and, consequently, the movements
of the Army of the Potomac had attracted a large share of public
interest. That army, after a series of desperate battles, and an
almost incredible amount of hardships, baffled in its attempts to
capture the rebel capital, was recruiting its strength at Harrison’s
Landing. The Union arms had been successful at various points in
the West; but the batteries of Vicksburg and of Port Hudson still
kept the Mississippi sealed to the passage of national vessels.
Charleston and Savannah and Mobile boastingly bade defiance to the
combined efforts of army and navy; and the blockade-runners stole
in and out between the ports of the Atlantic seaboard and foreign
parts, supplying the enemy with the materials of war,—some of them
performing their voyages with almost the regularity of packets. The
Confederacy, notwithstanding its severe losses, elated at having
checked a movement from which the North had anticipated so much,
and their whole available resources, both of wealth and population,
wielded by a few bold, determined leaders, looked confidently forward
to the final success of their arms. Foreign powers talked of the
Union as a thing of the past; and even in the North, there were not
wanting those, who, by word and deed, gave countenance to the foes of
the country, and discouraged every loyal effort.

But neither defeat, mismanagement, foreign jealousy, nor domestic
treason, caused the President to swerve from his determination to
restore the supremacy of the government over the whole country.
Availing himself of the power granted him by the Constitution and
by Congress, he had called three hundred thousand volunteers into
the field for three years; and, while each State was using all its
energies in raising its quota, a new call was issued on the 4th
of August for three hundred thousand volunteers for nine months.
In Massachusetts, it seemed at first impossible to raise this
additional force without resorting to a draft. But the towns vied
with each other in filling their quotas. Public meetings were held;
processions, with banners, and bands of music, paraded the streets;
patriotic songs were sung in the churches, and stirring appeals made
from the pulpit; and liberal promises were made to care for friends
left behind.

The young men of Massachusetts responded promptly to the calls
upon their patriotism. Leaving their counting-rooms, workshops,
and studies,—with professions and trades half-learned, and
business prospects broken up,—they went into the ranks, to undergo
the hardships of a soldier’s life, and submit themselves to an
unaccustomed and often irksome discipline.

Before the end of the year, Massachusetts had put twenty-one new
regiments of infantry and several batteries into the field, beside
sending a large number of recruits into all the old organizations.
Among these regiments was the Thirty Eighth. Without claiming undue
merit for the motives or the deeds of the members of this regiment,
or exalting them at the expense of other troops, it may be said
that few of them enlisted without making pecuniary sacrifices to a
greater or less extent; and the local bounty of a hundred dollars did
little more than provide them a comfortable outfit, and purchase the
numerous articles then considered necessary for a soldier’s comfort.

The men composing the Thirty Eighth were gathered from various towns
and counties; and the majority of them were brought together for
the first time upon their arrival at camp. Seven of the companies
rendezvoused at Camp Stanton, Lynnfield, and three (Cambridge
companies) at Camp Day, in North Cambridge. Owing to this division of
the regiment, a little confusion existed at first in regard to the
letters by which the several companies should be designated; but
this matter was amicably settled upon the arrival of the regiment
at Baltimore; and, in speaking of the companies in this sketch, the
letters by which they were finally known will be used entirely.

Co. A was raised in Cambridgeport; Co. B, principally in East
Cambridge; Co. C, in Abington; Co. D, in various towns in Plymouth
County; Co. E, in Lynn; Co. F, in Cambridgeport; Co. G, in various
parts of Plymouth County; Co. H, in New Bedford and Falmouth; Co.
I, in Milton, Dedham, Medway, Wrentham, and other places; and Co. K
represented as many as fifteen cities and towns. In nearly all the
companies there were men who belonged in places not mentioned here,
as will be seen by the roster appended to this sketch. Although the
regiment was thus collected from various localities, harmony always
prevailed. Common dangers, common sufferings, and common triumphs,
drew the members more closely together as the numbers decreased; and,
when the final disbandment came, all separated with the most friendly
feelings.

As soon as the various town quotas were filled, they were sent into
camp, and organized into companies and regiments.

The recruits for the Thirty Eighth were under the command of Major
D. K. Wardwell, who was commissioned lieutenant-colonel before
leaving the State, and who enjoyed a high reputation for courage and
practical military knowledge. Col. Ingraham, holding a commission
at the time as lieutenant-colonel of the Eighteenth Massachusetts,
had been commissioned for the Thirty Ninth; but was afterwards
transferred to the Thirty Eighth. Upon the promotion of Major
Wardwell, Capt. William L. Rodman, of Co. H, was commissioned to
fill the vacancy. During the stay of the regiment at Lynnfield, many
of the men were absent on furloughs, and new recruits were being
constantly added, so that little progress was made in drill.

While the seven companies were thus occupied at Lynnfield, Cos. A,
B, and F were being introduced to military life at Camp Day, in
North Cambridge. The camp at that time was crowded with recruits
for the various regiments and batteries in the field; and as the
accommodations were limited, the men of the Thirty Eighth were
furloughed nearly every night, reporting at sunrise in the morning.

Monday, Aug. 18, by invitation of the citizens of Cambridge,
the volunteers visited that city. During the afternoon, many of
the places of business were closed, flags were hoisted, and a
procession, composed of delegates from the military and fire
departments, the Cambridge and Irving Literary Associations, the
printing-offices, and police, accompanied by the city government and
a numerous concourse of citizens, escorted the volunteers through the
principal streets of East Cambridge and Cambridgeport to the City
Hall, where an address was delivered by the mayor; and from thence to
Williams Hall, where a fine collation was served.

It had been expected that Cos. A, B, and F would join the regiment
at Lynnfield, before leaving the State, and orders were daily looked
for to that effect. But another course was pursued by the military
authorities. The companies at Lynnfield were mustered into the
United States service on the 21st, at that place. On the 22d, Capt.
McLaughlin mustered in the Cambridge companies at Camp Day.

When the army clothing was drawn, many amusing scenes took place.
No. 1 men drew No. 4 clothing, and _vice versa_. If a small man
complained of an undue proportion of cloth in his coat, he was
pleasantly assured by the issuing officer that it would shrink. Did
a stout boy feel a pinching in the arms,—it would soon stretch
According to the style then prevalent, the new volunteers had cut
their hair very short, showing the phrenological developments
distinctly; and when encased in army blue, their own mothers barely
recognized them. Previously to their departure from Camp Day, the
mothers, sisters, and friends of the volunteers visited the camp,
armed with needles, thread, and scissors; and the dropped stitches
were taken up, shaky buttons made firm, pockets inserted, and
blankets bound. Each man was then furnished with a housewife, and all
future repairing turned over to his clumsy fingers, probably with
many misgivings.

The seven companies were furnished with arms and equipments at
Lynnfield; and, during the forenoon of the 26th of August, the
regimental line was formed, Lieut.-Col. Wardwell in command. The
day was a hot one; and, as the men had not yet acquired the art of
packing knapsacks and wearing equipments to the best advantage, many
of them were prostrated by the heat. They were transported in the
cars to Boston, and marched across the city to the Worcester depot,
where a special train was in readiness to take them. Cos. A, B, and
F, not making their appearance at the appointed time, this portion of
the regiment embarked at once, and proceeded on their way.

In the meantime, Camp Day was all alive. The dinner was on the fire,
when the orders to march were received. Hastily packing knapsacks,
the three companies were soon in line. The citizens of Cambridge had
provided horse-cars to convey them to Boston; but, in the first flush
of military spirit, they voted to march. The knapsacks, filled to
overflowing with innumerable articles then considered essential to a
soldier’s well-being, bore heavily on the backs of the new recruits;
and without arms and equipments, and not fully uniformed, the column
had not a very military aspect as it marched down Main Street. Dusty
and tired, the halt in Cambridgeport was a welcome one; and justice
was done to the collation provided by the city.

Bidding the last good-bys, and followed by the good wishes of
relatives and friends, the three companies continued their march.
Upon arriving in Boston, it was found that Lieut.-Col. Wardwell had
already started; but, after a short delay, another train was made
up, and the regiment overtaken at New London. Quarters were provided
on the cabin floors of the steamer, and the blankets spread for the
first time. The fatigue and excitement of the day brought a good
night’s rest, and every one awoke in the morning refreshed; the decks
being soon covered with men, enjoying the scenery of the river, as
the steamer approached New York; while, from the cottages along the
banks, loyal women waved a patriotic God-speed to the volunteers.

Passing by New York, the regiment landed at Jersey City; and there
being a scarcity of transportation, a portion of the regiment did not
get away until afternoon. The companies from Camp Day had received
no rations before leaving; and the crowd of hucksters, with which
the place swarmed, reaped a rich harvest. Mr. J. C. Wellington, of
Cambridge, came on with the regiment, and one company was indebted
to him for a bountiful supply of hot coffee,—the first of a series
of kindnesses conferred upon that company and the regiment, when in
garrison and field, which made his presence always a welcome one.

While waiting at Jersey City, the famous Sixty Ninth New York arrived
at the depot, on their return from their second term of service.
These real soldiers, who had actually been in battle, were looked
upon with much interest by the untried volunteers who were on their
way to the scene of action, and the contrast between the appearance
of the two sets of knapsacks was a suggestive one. Taking the train
vacated by the Sixty Ninth, the rear of the regiment was soon riding
on after the advance. All through New Jersey, people on the roadside
and in the fields cheered, while flags and handkerchiefs were waved
from the houses. The men were in excellent spirits, and enlivened
the journey with songs and mirth. Getting passing glimpses of
Newark, Burlington, Princeton, Trenton, and other historic cities,
now invested with renewed interest, and being liberally supplied
with water whenever the train stopped long enough, the regiment rode
through New Jersey, arriving at Camden about eight in the evening.
Crossing the ferry, they were taken to the Cooper Shop Refreshment
Saloon, where they partook of a bountiful collation, and were then
conducted to a long row of wash-basins provided for the purpose.
After the hot and dusty ride, the ablution was peculiarly refreshing,
and was greatly enjoyed. Again forming in line, the regiment marched
across the city to the Baltimore depot.

Although the passing of troops was now a daily occurrence, the
enthusiasm of the people did not abate. Ladies waved their
handkerchiefs from the windows, and even grasped the hands of
the passing soldiers from the doorsteps, while men crowded the
sidewalks, and heartily cheered. This enthusiastic greeting will
long be remembered by the survivors of that column; for it was far
more cordial and earnest than the welcome given them in the capital
of their own State, when after three years’ toil and battle, with
thinned ranks, but with an unstained record, they again marched
through the streets of Boston. Notwithstanding the great number
of troops that had passed through Philadelphia that summer, the
hospitality of the city never wearied. No regiment was allowed to
pass uncared for; and when returning wounded and sick from the front,
singly or in groups, the same kind feelings were manifested, and the
warm-hearted ladies with their own hands administered the delicacies
their generosity had provided. Other Northern cities cared well for
the passing volunteers; but none equalled Philadelphia, whose efforts
were continued as well in seasons of defeat and gloom as in those of
victory and triumph.

Taking the cars after midnight, the regiment arrived at Baltimore
about ten o’clock, the next day, and marched over nearly the same
route taken by the Massachusetts Sixth, on the 19th of April, 1861.
No noisy mob appeared to dispute the passage up Pratt Street; but the
sullen, averted looks of the majority of the people on the sidewalks
betokened no love for the Union. A substantial dinner was furnished
the regiment at the Union Relief Rooms (for Baltimore had Unionists,
whose devotion to the country was as intense as was their hatred
to Secession); and it was then learned, that, instead of going to
Washington, and thence on to Virginia, the regiment was to occupy a
camp in the vicinity of Baltimore, about to be vacated by the Thirty
Seventh New York, whose term of service had expired. A march of a few
miles led to the camping-ground,—a pretty place, in a grove of trees,
formerly known as Druid Hill Park, then called Camp Belger. There
were good facilities for bathing near the camp; while the shade-trees
furnished cool retreats when off drill. On the 30th, the guns and
equipments for Cos. A, B, and F were received and distributed; and
the day was spent in fitting them.

On the 3d of September, Col. Ingraham arrived to take command of
the regiment. The greater portion of the time was now occupied
in drilling. Col. Ingraham and Lieut.-Col. Wardwell were both
thoroughly versed in military tactics; and the company-officers
seconded their efforts in endeavoring to bring the regiment up to a
high standard, in the manual of arms and in marching. Adjutant Loring
kept a sharp look-out for the whereabouts of every button, and the
polish of every shoe, on parade; and the surgeons enforced a strict
attention to the rules of health and cleanliness in the quarters,
and about the camp-ground. Thus the regiment was fairly started on
its military career. What this training resulted in may perhaps be
gathered from the following pages.

On the 5th of September, Co. K was detailed to guard Stuart’s
hospital; and, as it marched out of the camp, its appearance showed
the improvement that had already taken place in military bearing.
Sept. 7, Mr. Stacy Read, arrived in the camp with parcels for the
Cambridge companies, showing that the folks at home had not yet
forgotten the absent ones; and as Mr. Read had manifested great
interest in Co. F, that company, by unanimous vote, adopted the name
of “Read Guard.”

CHAPTER II.

On the 8th of September, orders came for the regiment to pack
up, and be ready to march on the following morning. Rations were
cooked, ammunition dealt out, and the tents struck and packed, Co.
F remaining behind to guard the camp. Owing to a mistake of the
guide, the regiment marched a number of miles out of its way, causing
unnecessary fatigue.

Co. F marched up the next day. Before leaving Camp Belger, this
company was visited by some Union ladies from Baltimore, who regaled
them with roast meat, peaches, tomatoes, and biscuits.

The new camp, called Camp Cram, was about seven miles from Baltimore,
near the village of Powhattan, and in a position to guard the
Liberty turnpike. The rebels were then threatening Maryland with a
large force; and strict orders were issued regarding vigilance on
guard and picket, and the importance of keeping a sharp look-out
for spies. One day, a vigilant sentinel seized a suspicious-looking
personage, and brought him to the officer of the guard. He proved to
be a Baltimore clergyman, and preached to the regiment the following
Sunday.

The tents were pitched on a rising ground, shaded by large trees. In
front of the camp, the ground sloped down to the Powhattan Creek; and
the battalion drills up and down this declivity developed the muscles
of the men, who were then little aware of the need they should
have of good, stout limbs to carry them through the pine woods of
Louisiana.

The regiment having no chaplain, religious services were performed on
the Sabbath by Col. Ingraham, according to the Episcopal usage; and
social religious meetings were conducted by Private Mudge, of Co. E.
The Sabbath services were attended by citizens from the surrounding
country, and they usually stopped to see the parade. Some of the
companies had not been furnished with uniform pants in Massachusetts,
and as it was a good while before any could be procured, it may be
imagined that these necessary articles of apparel began to show
signs of wear, and it required some manœuvring on the part of line
officers to get presentable men in the front rank. Any other view
of the regiment on one of these parades might not have added to its
reputation. When the new pants arrived, they were received with a
round of cheers.

A thorough system of drills began at Camp Cram,—squad, company,
battalion, and skirmish; and, at the close of those warm October
days, the arbitrary “taps” fell on willing ears. The skirmish drills
were conducted by Lieut.-Col. Wardwell, and were a relief to the
monotony of the battalion and company drill.

The subject of a band had been agitated in the regiment from the
time of their first going into camp; and measures had been taken
to procure instruments. They were received during the last week
in September, and the band made their first appearance on parade,
Saturday, Sept. 27. This attraction drew an increased number of
visitors from the surrounding country, especially on the Sabbath; and
the camp was enlivened by the presence of country dames, in their
holiday attire, who, during the week, had done a thriving business
in selling pies and apple-butter to the soldiers. Co. K, in the
meantime, having performed the duty required of them very acceptably,
had returned to the regiment, with an improvement in drill which
caused increased emulation among the other companies, and raised the
standard of military acquirements still higher in the command.

While the Thirty Eighth were thus acquiring proficiency in drill,
and inuring themselves to life in the open air, stirring scenes were
being enacted within cannon sound. The distant boom of the guns at
Antietam were heard in camp; and orders were looked for every day,
which would send the regiment to the front. One gallant Massachusetts
regiment (the Thirty Fifth), that had left the State but a few days
previous to the Thirty Eighth, had already been in the thick of the
fight, and had lost heavily.

In a few weeks, the tide of war again rolled northwards, and the
troops of Stonewall threatened Pennsylvania. On the 11th of October,
the Thirty Eighth received orders to be ready to move the next day.
Tired of the monotony of camp-life, the news was received joyously;
and the camp rang with the shouts of those to whom the unknown perils
of the battle-field had a strange fascination. Far into the night,
busy hands were at work packing knapsacks; and many an article which
kind but inexperienced friends at home had considered indispensable
to their soldier-boy’s comfort was left behind.

Early Sunday morning, Oct. 12, the regiment broke camp, and began
the march toward Baltimore. No one would have recognized this body
of drilled soldiers, with neatly packed knapsacks, marching with
steady step and closed ranks, as the procession of awkward recruits
who passed through the same streets less than six weeks previously;
and in after times, when disease and battle had reduced them to a
remnant, the survivors of the column looked sadly back in memory upon
that October morning, when the long line followed its commander over
the Maryland hills.

Marching through the city of Baltimore, the regiment took the cars
for Chambersburg, but had not proceeded a mile, when the orders were
countermanded, the train called back, and the troops disembarked.
Quarters were procured in the machine-shops for the night; and the
next morning, after breakfasting at the Union Relief Rooms, the
regiment marched to Camp Emory, on the outskirts of the city, on
property owned by the relatives of Charles Carroll, of Revolutionary
fame. The One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York had been encamped
on a part of the ground, but had gone to Chambersburg, leaving a
lofty flagstaff and a pile of boards for tent-floors, both of which
were appropriated at once by the Thirty Eighth; but upon the return
of the former regiment, the flagstaff was returned, and a loftier one
procured, which was afterwards transferred to the One Hundred and
Fiftieth New York.

The old routine of drill was now resumed. Col. Emory commanded the
division to which the Thirty Eighth was assigned; and the men here
first saw the stout old soldier who afterwards became such a favorite
leader.

On the 28th of October, an order came from Gen. Wool for one company
to go to Baltimore on special service. Co. F went through the city
on the double-quick, with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets; but
their services were not required, and they came back to camp rather
disgusted at having added nothing new to the fame of the regiment.
It was rumored in the camp, that some one had insulted the hostler
of a general, and a squadron of cavalry and a body of infantry were
ordered out to avenge it.

While at Camp Emory, the regiment received a visit from the Rev. Mr.
Ware, of Cambridge, a gentleman who always manifested great interest
in its welfare, and whose kindness will long be remembered by its
members.

In this camp, the companies drilled daily in “reversed arms,” for the
purpose of attending the funeral of some officer who had died, or was
expected to die. But their services were never called for; and it
became one of the regimental legends that the officer had refused to
die upon hearing that the Thirty Eighth were drilling for the purpose
of burying him.

Toward the end of October, the weather began to get cool, and every
one looked uneasily forward to a winter in tents in Maryland; but
as a new well was almost completed, and a new guard-house begun,
the men still had hopes of getting away. Col. Ingraham was now
acting brigade-commander, and Lieut.-Col. Wardwell in command of the
regiment; and brigade and division drills took place several times a
week.

During the first week in November, marching orders were received,
and preparations were made to embark on ocean transports; but the
regiment did not break camp until Sunday, the 9th. A few days
previous, there had been a severe snow-storm, which would have done
honor to Massachusetts; and every one was eager to get into a warmer
climate. Just before the cold weather, Mr. Wellington, of Cambridge,
had visited the camp, and furnished each of the members of Co. F with
a pair of gloves, a present from Mr. Stacy Read. The band of the
One Hundred and Fiftieth New York escorted the regiment through the
streets of Baltimore to the Union Relief Rooms, where a good meal
was furnished them. Quarters for the night were found in unoccupied
houses; and the next day the regiment was taken down Chesapeake Bay
in small steamers, and transferred to the steamship Baltic, which
had been selected by Gen. Emory as his flag-ship. The ship stopped a
short time off Annapolis to take on board two companies of the One
Hundred and Thirty First New York, and then proceeded to Fortress
Monroe, arriving at Hampton Roads on the morning of the 8th.

The victories of Farragut had not yet added their brilliant record to
the achievements of our navy; and the scene of the little “Monitor’s”
victory, and of the “Cumberland’s” glorious death, was eagerly
studied, while one of the officers, who had been an eye-witness to
the engagement, related the story to a group of interested listeners.

For nearly a month, the regiment remained on shipboard at Hampton
Roads, occasionally going on shore to practice target-shooting and to
drill. An amusing incident occurred at this time, the memory of which
will bring a smile to many a face. There had been no facilities for
washing clothes since leaving Camp Emory, and the regiment had not
yet roughed it long enough to become accustomed to dirt; so one day,
when it was announced that the knapsacks were to be taken on shore,
and an opportunity given to wash clothes in fresh water, soap became
in demand, and all anticipated one more cleaning up before going into
the field. A tiresome march through the streets of Old Point Comfort,
by the “contraband” village rising around the chimneys of ruined
Hampton, brought the regiment to the vicinity of a creek; and soon
the bank was lined with busy washers. But the soap furnished by Uncle
Samuel had no effect upon the dirt contracted on his transports.
Suddenly some one discovered that the creek was a salt-water one. The
washing fever subsided, and the regiment went back wiser, but very
little cleaner.

Day after day slipped by, and still there was no movement. On the
18th of the month, the regiment received their first visit from the
paymaster, being paid off on the deck of the ship. The companies
changed quarters more than once on board the “Baltic,” and had the
opportunity to test the comparative hardness of nearly all the beams
in the ship. It required skill in gymnastics to go from the bunks to
the deck without coming in contact with some animate or inanimate
body.

Thanksgiving Day found the regiment still at anchor, _waiting_. The
men went on shore in the morning, and had the liberty of the beach
and of the sutlers’ stores until afternoon. Many had received “boxes”
from home; and turkeys and puddings graced impromptu tables, spread
on the beach, the fresh sea-breeze giving a flavor superior to any
gravy. Those whose boxes did not arrive in time picked up a dinner in
private houses, saloons, and at the counters of the sutlers, who were
liberally patronized, and who long remembered the Thirty Eighth.

At length, the “horses came on board,” and the signs of departure
seemed to multiply. Lieut.-Col. Wardwell resigned before the
regiment left Fortress Monroe; and his resignation was accepted,
to take effect from Dec. 3. Major Rodman succeeded to the vacant
lieutenant-colonelcy, to date from Dec. 4; and Capt. Richardson, of
Co. A, was promoted major. The two companies of the One Hundred and
Thirty First had been transferred to another ship, and the Thirty
Eighth had the Baltic to themselves.

CHAPTER III.

Thursday morning, Dec. 8, everything was astir in Hampton Roads.
Important little tug-boats sputtered and whistled; quartermasters’
boats brought off their last supplies of fresh bread and meat; and
tardy officers joined their regiments. About nine o’clock, A. M.,
the Atlantic weighed anchor, and led the way to sea, followed,
at intervals, by the Ericcsson, the Spaulding, the Arago, the
Pocahontas, and others of the fleet. Slowly steaming between Fortress
Monroe and the Rips Raps, their decks covered with troops, and their
flags blowing out clear in the fresh breeze, the ships presented
a fine sight. About four o’clock, the Baltic weighed anchor, and
followed the fleet, the gun-boat Augusta bringing up the rear, as
convoy. Of course, the destination was the great theme, and rumors
flew thick and fast, but nothing definite was learned.

The weather was very beautiful; and the men thronged the deck,
reading, writing, and watching the movements of the strange fishes
and birds which occasionally made their appearance. There was
comparatively little sea-sickness, and the general health of the
regiment was good. The cooking facilities were poor. The galley, in
which coffee was boiled, and salt-beef cooked for a thousand men,
was of the smallest proportions; and those who went through that
voyage have a vivid remembrance of “big Charlie” bending over the
meat-boiler. Notwithstanding the inconveniences, there was little
grumbling; and the division commander expressed himself well pleased
at the orderly conduct of the men. Charleston, Pensacola, and Mobile
were passed, and still the ship kept on her course. At length, the
appearance of a large fleet, hovering around a low island, told that
the destination was reached. The place of rendezvous proved to be
Ship Island, much to the disgust of the regiment, who had conceived a
strong dislike against this place. In truth, it looked as if a large
wave might wash the whole concern, with its military storehouses and
fort, into the Gulf of Mexico. Here it was learned that New Orleans
was the destination; and, as the Baltic drew too much water to cross
the bar off the mouth of the Mississippi, the Thirty Eighth had to
land on the island, and await the return of some of the lighter draft
transports. Part of the regiment disembarked on the evening of the
13th, and the remainder followed the next day; glad enough to be
once more on terra firma, if this sand-bank could be so denominated.
Although near midwinter, the temperature was mild; and the beach was
soon covered with bathers, enjoying the luxury of a good plunge in
the water after such a long sea-service. There was no chance to be
dirty while here. Tin dippers and plates shone with a lustre that
would have excited the admiration of a Knickerbocker housewife;
and the muskets were bright and polished. The sand was everywhere,
and must have assisted the stomach wonderfully in digesting the
antediluvian hard-tack occasionally issued.

There was a good deal of fatigue work to do here, unloading stores,
and transporting ammunition; and even the drilling through the
sand was unusually fatiguing. At this time, there was a number
of political prisoners on the island, rendering service to the
government, and strengthening their own muscles, by pounding
stones. Some of them had been prominent citizens in New Orleans,
and had been banished to this place, by order of Gen. Butler, for
acts of disloyalty to the Union. The soldiers of the Thirty Eighth
looked upon these persons as “the right men in the right place,” and
cordially endorsed the policy of “Old Ben.”

A number of the larger transports had been unable to cross the
bar; and the island was dotted with canvas villages. Drilling was
resumed by the various regiments, and prosecuted vigorously, although
the marching in the sand was fatiguing. Christmas was now near at
hand. On the evening of the 23d, after brigade drill, the colonel
addressed the regiment briefly, stating that they would probably
spend Christmas there, and that he wished them to enjoy the day as
well as they could under the circumstances. The camp was to be given
up to the regiment from ten o’clock, A. M., till “tattoo;” they
were to elect their own field, staff, and line officers; make their
own camp-regulations, and hold the regimental officers to a strict
observance of them, punishing any violation of them with confinement
in the guard-house. The men entered into the proposal with spirit.
Committees were appointed from the different companies, line officers
elected; and the camp scoured for materials with which to get up a
mock parade. Santa Claus did not make his appearance. The jolly old
saint, in his fur cap, would have been sadly out of place in that
sunny clime. One poor fellow, in a fit of absent-mindedness, hung up
his stocking in his tent, but indignantly rejected the idea that the
army pastry found therein was from the old friend of his boyhood.
He thought the other “Nick” had more dealings with the commissary
department. The day opened with a good breakfast of baked beans.
After breakfast, the regiment was drawn up around the colonel’s tent,
when the Christmas service of the Episcopal Church was read by Col.
Ingraham, the band and a volunteer choir assisting in making the
service interesting. The camp was then “turned over” to the regiment,
the colonel holding the power in reserve to check the proceedings if
they became disorderly. The regular guard being relieved, a new guard
and police detail was at once made out, selected from the ranks of
the commissioned and non-commissioned officers. In the forenoon, a
burlesque dress-parade took place, which furnished much amusement to
all concerned; and, considering the limited materials on the island,
was quite successful. The series of orders read by the adjutant’s
clerk were _slightly_ personal, and good-humoredly embodied the
complaints of the men against certain obnoxious changes in the drill,
and regarding other regimental matters. During the day, the officers
were nearly all under arrest for some violation of the “orders of
the day.” One Timothy Ingraham was taken to the guard-house for
attempting to leave camp without a pass. Giving a satisfactory
excuse, he was released. Other officers were not as fortunate; and
some of them worked out the penalty of their offences with the
shovel. The Christmas dinner consisted of a bountiful supply of
salt-beef and hard-tack, washed down with cold water. The afternoon
was spent in rambling over the island, each one enjoying himself in
his own way. About five o’clock, a dress-parade took place, conducted
exclusively by enlisted men, each company doing its best to make
the parade creditable. The officers loaned their uniforms for the
occasion to those selected to command the regiment and companies; and
they acknowledged that the reputation for drill which the regiment
enjoyed at this time did not suffer during the temporary transfer
of authority. During the evening, some amusing courts-martial took
place; but, as it is not the purpose of the writer of this sketch to
“tell tales out of school,” the mere mention of it will be sufficient
to bring the scene before the minds of those who participated in the
events of the day. “Tattoo” dissolved the spell. The companies fell
in for roll-call, the guard went on again, and shortly after nine
o’clock, the lights were all out, and perfect quiet reigned in the
camp. Nothing occurred during the entire day to mar the peacefulness
of the festival. There had been no quarrelling, no drunkenness, and
no infraction of military rule.

On the evening of the 28th, the long-looked for transports made their
appearance. There was an immediate inspection of knapsacks; but
personal property had dwindled down to a small compass, and there
were few articles to be left behind. The cooks were busy all night
preparing rations; and orders were given to be ready to start at
ten in the morning. At noon, the tents were struck; but there being
a large amount of commissary stores to put on board, the regiment
did not embark till midnight; those not on duty grouped around the
camp-fires, “laying up sleep” for the future. As the regiment
marched to the wharf, the band played “Yankee Doodle,” bringing many
of Gen. Butler’s protegés to the doors and windows of their quarters.
Embarking on the transport Northern Light,—a large California
packet-steamer, much better adapted to convey troops comfortably
than the majority of government vessels,—the men gladly sought their
canvas-bottom bunks; and about sunrise, on the morning of the 30th,
the steamship weighed anchor, and steered for New Orleans. Although
the residence on the island had not been an unpleasant one, none were
sorry to see its outlines fade in the distance, or wished to revisit
it. On the morning of the 31st, the ship crossed the bar, and entered
the Mississippi; few on board then anticipating the long months
that were to pass before their eyes would be gladdened by the sight
of the blue water again. The sail up the Mississippi on this last
day of the year was an interesting one to Northern eyes. The large
plantations of corn and cane, dotted over with negroes, looking like
so many charred stumps on a partially cleared field; the orange-trees
laden with fruit; the mansions of the wealthy planters, half hidden
by fresh-looking shrubbery; the rows of neat, white-washed negro
cabins; the tall chimneys of the sugar-mills in the rear; with the
back-ground of forest-trees, gray with the Spanish moss,—formed a
picture in striking contrast to the winter-scenery the northern-bred
volunteers had been accustomed to.

Two sunken gun-boats near Forts Philip and Jackson reminded the
Thirty Eighth that they were in the same department with “old
Farragut,” and that, in any co-operation between the land and sea
forces, the army would have to look to its laurels. On the way
up the river, another transport was passed, containing the Forty
Seventh Massachusetts; and the two regiments exchanged friendly
greetings. Being the last day of the month, the regular inspection
and muster took place on the deck of the steamer; and, to show the
good health of the regiment on entering the Department of the Gulf,
it may be stated that one company, which left Boston over four months
previously with ninety-five enlisted men, mustered ninety-one for
inspection,—four having been left behind, sick, at Fortress Monroe.

A little after dark, the long line of lights was seen glimmering on
the river-edge, marking the outlines of New Orleans. The steamer cast
anchor in the stream near the upper part of the city; and the deck
was soon deserted by all except the guard, who paced their beats,
“watching” the old year out, and the new year in.

At noon, the ship steamed up the river to Carrollton, one of the
suburban towns of New Orleans, where the regiment landed. It was
the first day of January; but the orange-trees were in bloom, the
roses perfumed the air, and the vegetables were growing vigorously.
This was the “Sunny South” indeed. The new camp had at one time been
occupied by rebel troops, and was well adapted for drilling. On one
side of the Thirty Eighth, the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York
were encamped, and, on the other side, the One Hundred and Seventy
Fifth; beyond which, were the Forty Seventh Massachusetts. Between
the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Sixteenth, a friendship
sprung up, which lasted during the entire term of service; and
although the One Hundred and Sixteenth were soon transferred to
another brigade, and afterward to another division, whenever the two
regiments met on a campaign, friendly greetings were exchanged; and
this, notwithstanding the fact that they were rivals, each aspiring
to take the lead in drill and efficiency.

While at Carrollton, Col. Ingraham took command of a brigade, and
never rejoined the regiment. He participated in the first part of
the Tèche campaign; but, being unable to endure field service in the
climate of Louisiana, was appointed Provost Marshal at Washington,
in which position he gave such satisfaction that he was retained
in service by special order after the regiment was mustered out,
and brevetted as brigadier-general. A few days after arriving at
Carrollton, the regiment experienced its first Louisiana rain-storm.
The camp-ground was soon intersected by miniature bayous; and, as the
drains were not in good order, some of the streets were completely
flooded; while the tents, being old, afforded but little shelter from
the storm. The company streets, after one of these winter-rains, were
like so many mortar-beds. Much has been written about the Virginia
mud, in connection with the Army of the Potomac; but, if it equalled
that of Louisiana, the face of the country in that part of Virginia
must have been greatly changed by the movements of the armies;
and the mixing of soil will afford matter for study for future
agriculturists. As soon as the regiment was fairly settled in camp,
drills were resumed with vigor. During the stay on Ship Island, the
manual of arms had been changed: the old system was now restored,
much to the satisfaction of the men. On the 6th of the month, Gen.
Banks, accompanied by Gens. T. W. Sherman and Emory, visited the
camp. The regiment was engaged in battalion drill, at the time; and,
as the visitors approached, were drawn up into line to receive them.
Then, the Thirty Eighth, as far as regarded appearance, were in their
prime. Disease had not yet thinned the ranks; four months’ drill,
under competent field and line officers, had brought them to a high
standard in the manual of arms and in battalion movements; Adjutant
Loring had paid particular attention to the personal neatness of the
men; and the men were not yet discouraged by those gloomy accounts
which afterward came from the North, showing a want of faith in the
ability of the army to put down the rebellion, and an unwillingness
to strengthen it by reinforcements of good men. As spring drew near,
the camp was full of rumors in regard to the coming campaign; and
three days’ rations were kept cooked most of the time.

At midnight, on the 11th, sudden orders came to “fall in” for sixty
rounds of cartridges each; to pack knapsacks, and put two days’
rations in the haversacks. It was rumored that the rebels operating
up the river had been largely reinforced by troops from Richmond,
under Longstreet, and that the Thirty Eighth were to join the main
body of the Army of the Gulf. The knapsacks were to be packed, and
left behind, and the camp left standing, the troops going into the
field in light marching order. After waiting until the middle of
the forenoon, the orders were countermanded, the extra cartridges
returned, and drill resumed.

On the 24th of January, the Thirty First Massachusetts, Col. Gooding,
who had been doing duty at the forts, arrived, and went into camp
near the Thirty Eighth, Col. Gooding taking command of the brigade.
At this time, brick ovens were built in the camp, and the regiment
had their baked beans regularly Sunday mornings.

During the first week in February, the division drilled together
at Camp Parapet, near Carrollton. On the 3d, the One Hundred and
Sixteenth struck tents, and marched off in the direction of Baton
Rouge; and, in a few days, their camp was occupied by the Fifty Third
Massachusetts,—a nine-months’ regiment, who were in the third brigade
until their term of service expired.

On the morning of the 10th of February, the knapsacks were again
packed preparatory to a move; but the tents were left standing, and
the camp put in charge of the light-duty men, of which there were
then a large number.

When the regiment first arrived at Carrollton, the general health was
unusually good; but the change in the water, the dampness of the low
land, and the frequent guard-duty had made their mark, and thinned
the ranks.

It was nearly dark before the regiment embarked on the first of the
numerous river-boats with which they afterward became so familiar. A
thick fog came up during the night; and, in the morning, the boat was
found to be snugly moored to the river-bank, near a large plantation,
the mansion-house being then occupied as a signal-station; but the
fog cleared up during the forenoon, and the boat proceeded on her
voyage. The sail was a pleasant one, and was greatly enjoyed; and, as
the river had risen since the arrival of the regiment at New Orleans,
it presented a nobler appearance than at that time. Plantation after
plantation stretched along the banks, on both sides of the river; but
few of them showed any signs of activity. The residences of many of
the planters indicated taste and refinement; and, in some instances,
the negro cabins had a very attractive and picturesque appearance.
These plantations may have belonged to men of the St. Clare school;
but no Evas were seen sporting among the roses, or Uncle Toms
“keeping an eye on things.” During the afternoon, Jefferson College
was passed, and, still later, a large convent, prettily situated near
the river, with grounds tastefully laid out. About midnight, the boat
arrived at Plaquemine, an old-fashioned, dilapidated looking town,
but which is said to have been a thriving place before the rebellion,
when the Mississippi was covered with steamers, and the products of
the cotton and cane-fields were filling the coffers of the plantation
princes. The few citizens who remained had evidently not lost their
hope of the ultimate success of the South; for Confederate paper was
worth half as much as greenbacks.

Sunday afternoon, Feb. 15, the Louisiana Belle arrived at Plaquemine,
having on board Gen. Emory and staff; and she was soon followed by
another boat, with the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth New York, and
Col. Ingraham and staff. A gun-boat started with them, but broke
down on the way, and put back for repairs. A portion of the Thirty
Eighth being on the upper deck of the transport, and exposed to the
weather, quarters were procured for Cos. C and F in unoccupied houses
on shore. It was after dark when they landed, and raining hard. The
mud was knee-deep in the streets, and the night pitchy dark. After
floundering along for half an hour or more, it turned out that the
guide had lost his way, and the two companies had to countermarch,
and retrace their steps part of the way. In after times, many a
laugh was had over the misfortunes of that night; but, at the time,
Mr. Webster and Mr. Worcester would have been astonished at the
capabilities of the English language in furnishing expletives.
Finally, the house that had been selected for quarters was found;
and all except the unlucky guards were soon oblivious of the mishaps
of military life. Afterward, several of the remaining companies were
transferred to quarters in the town.

The regiment drilled, as usual, at Plaquemine; and the men often
wondered when that lazy soldier-life they had heard so much about was
going to begin; for, hitherto, with drill, guard-duty, fatigue, and
rifle-cleaning, they barely had time to answer their letters from
home.

In the meantime, the gun-boat had arrived; and a number of men
acquainted with boat-service had been detailed from the regiment,
and sent up the Bayou Plaquemine in launches, on a reconnoitring
expedition. While awaiting the return of the boats, the sugar-houses
in the vicinity were visited, and candy-making became the order of
the evenings. In the succeeding months, the molasses-candy expedition
was often recalled, and its incidents talked of over the camp and
picket fires.

The reconnoitring party returned with the information that the
bayou was completely obstructed by piles and immense drifts of
logs, and that it would be impossible to force a passage through.
In consequence of this report, the troops again embarked, and the
transport headed down the river, reaching the landing at Carrollton
at six o’clock on the evening of the 19th. In the morning, the
march was taken up for Camp Kearney, where everything was found in
order, although the camp bore evidence of having been pretty well
flooded by the rains of the previous week. A mail had arrived during
the absence of the regiment, and it had been sent up the river, to
the disappointment of every one. Numerous absurd rumors concerning
disaster to the regiment had been brought down the river, and one had
found its way into the New Orleans papers, to the effect that nine
companies of the Thirty Eighth had been captured. Acting upon this
information, the sutler had packed up his wares, and gone to another
regiment, concluding that his chances of money-making in the Thirty
Eighth were at an end.

Immediately upon arriving in camp again, the tents were struck, and
the floors taken up, that the sun might dry up the dampness. On
Sunday, Feb. 22, divine service was performed in the camp by Col.
Ingraham, the band, and a select choir from the ranks, assisting; and
the day was further honored by the firing of a national salute from
Camp Parapet.

On the 26th, by the advice of the surgeon, the regiment were to have
“a rest, not more than three hundred men having come out the day
before for battalion drill;” but in the afternoon, however, an order
came from brigade head-quarters for the regiment to have skirmish
drill. Capt. Rundlet, being in command at the time, deployed the left
wing as skirmishers, drilling them especially in the movement of
“lying down;” the right wing, in the meantime, remaining in reserve.
This order did not increase the popularity of the brigade commander.
On the last day of the month, the regiment was again mustered for
pay. On that day, also, a number of boxes reached camp, which had
been sent to the regiment when at Fortress Monroe. They had been
intended for Thanksgiving, but did not reach their destination until
the fleet had sailed; and three months’ confinement had reduced the
turkeys and chickens to skeletons, and the puddings and pies had not
increased in flavor.

During the month, the regiment lost several valuable members from
disease. On the 3d, Orderly Sergt. Samuel J. Gore, of Co. E, died
of typhoid fever, and was buried under arms; and on the 4th, Sergt.
Charles A. Howard, of Co. A, died of the same disease. Sergt. Howard
received a commission as lieutenant in another regiment a day or two
before he died. On the 3d of March, the Sergeant-major, Walter W.
Nourse, added another to the list from this fatal disease. Sergt.
Nourse came out as 1st Sergt. of Co. F, and was the pet of that
company, as well as a favorite with the whole regiment. Resolutions
expressive of their sympathy were forwarded by Co. F to his bereaved
friends; and they also testified their respect for their comrade,
by having his body embalmed, and sent home, where imposing funeral
obsequies took place upon its arrival, and touching tributes to his
memory were published in the newspapers.

During the first week in March, a regimental well was dug; and
marching orders were at once expected, for, hitherto, these events
had followed each other in close order; and the rule was not now
to be broken. On the 4th, the cooks had orders to cook rations.
The next day, drill was dispensed with, and orders were issued to
pack knapsacks, and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Somewhat
experienced in marching orders, the men made themselves quite easy
over it, not expecting to get away for several days. Consequently,
they were taken completely by surprise to hear the “assembly” just
after dark, followed immediately by the “orderly’s call” and the
“officers’ call;” and there was quite a hubbub in the camp. At first,
there was supposed to be trouble in New Orleans; and the men were
elated at the prospect of having something to do. That morning, one
company had brought out but twenty-eight men for drill,—thirty-five
reporting sick, and a number being detailed,—but, in a few minutes
after the assembly was heard, sixty men were in line, equipped for
active service; and the same spirit was shown in all the other
companies. It was soon learned that the duty to be performed was
near home, and was not relished so well. There had been some trouble
in the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New York; the men refusing to go
on the campaign until they were paid, they not having received any
money since their enlistment. Their camp was surrounded by the other
regiments of the brigade with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets; but,
after a short address from the brigade commander, the men of the One
Hundred and Seventy Fifth returned to duty, and the Thirty Eighth and
the other regiments were released from their unpleasant task.

The next morning opened with a drizzling rain. At noon, orders were
given to strike the tents on one side of the company streets, and
put the knapsacks in those of the other side; and this was barely
done, when the rain began to pour in torrents, and continued to
do so for the remainder of the day. Three days’ rations were put
in the haversacks, and all the regimental baggage packed. The One
Hundred and Seventy Fifth had started in the morning; and the Fifty
Third broke camp in the midst of the rain, and marched to the levee;
but the Thirty Eighth lingered until evening, when orders came to
strike all the remaining tents, and take the baggage to the cars,
which passed near the camp. The mud grew deeper and deeper, as the
men wallowed through it; and, as the night was very dark, it was a
difficult task to keep in the track. A large detail had been sent
to store the baggage on board of the transports, and there were so
many on the sick-list that it took the remainder nearly all night
to load the cars. The few hours before morning were spent around
the camp-fires; and, at sunrise, the regiment marched to the levee,
stacked arms on the sidewalk opposite, and proceeded to put the
remainder of the baggage, quartermaster’s stores, &c., on board of
the St. Mary’s. It was a very carnival of mud; and soon every one
was coated with it. About noon, the regiment embarked; and tired,
sleepy, muddy, and packed like sardines, the men coiled themselves up
in all shapes, and slept soundly in the hot sun. The boat arrived at
Baton Rouge the next morning, and found the river full of gun-boats,
mortar-boats, and transports; and signs that the campaign was about
to open were everywhere apparent. Landing on the levee, the Thirty
Eighth marched through the streets of the old capital of Louisiana
to the Theatre Building, where they were quartered. Although the
climate and the unwholesome water had begun to do its work, the
regiment was still comparatively strong, some companies taking near
seventy men into the field; and the long rows of stacked muskets on
the floor of the Theatre had a martial look, and spoke of work in the
future.

CHAPTER IV.

Baton Rouge was alive with troops, belonging to every branch of the
service. Staff-officers and orderlies were galloping through the
town; quartermasters and commissaries were full of business; and
flags were waving continually from the signal-towers. A few citizens
were to be seen in the streets, grim and sullen; but they were almost
lost amid the blue-coats. The Thirty Eighth had orders to pack their
dress-coats, and all other articles except blankets, overcoats,
and a change of clothing. Old soldiers may smile at this idea of
“light-marching order;” but the men had not yet learned how little
baggage was necessary for comfort and health.

Wednesday, March 11, the iron-clad Essex, so famous in the annals of
Mississippi warfare, arrived at Baton Rouge, and was inspected with
much interest by the troops. This boat was the wonder and delight
of the contraband population; and amusing stories were told of the
effect produced upon both black and white Southerners, when she first
made her appearance before the city. Another examination was made in
the division now, and the sick men, and those unable to endure the
fatigue of field service, were sent to the hospital, and the command
stripped to its marching and fighting material.

Shelter-tents were issued on the 11th; and during the first march,
everybody carried tent-pins, with which to pitch them; and this
in a densely wooded country. The Thirty Eighth were proficient
in the manual of arms, and could go through battalion movements
creditably; but they were not yet soldiers. On the 12th, the division
was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory, accompanied by a large and
brilliant staff, Admiral Farragut being present, and the centre of
attraction. Although the knapsacks had been reduced somewhat, the
addition of the shelter-tents, and twenty extra rounds of cartridges,
made the load fall heavy enough to be on the back from eight in the
morning till one in the afternoon, when the review closed. The force
on the field consisted of thirteen regiments of infantry, three
batteries, and several companies of cavalry; and the review took
place on the old battle-field of Baton Rouge, near the spot where
Gen. Williams was killed, the marks of the bullets then fired being
still visible on the trees and fence-posts.

While at Baton Rouge, an order was issued by Gen. Banks, very
complimentary to the Thirty Eighth. After a severe rebuke of the
manner in which the officers of certain regiments had performed their
duties, as shown by the reports of the Inspector-General, the order
went on to say: “The Commanding General cannot forbear pointing to
the marked contrast indicated in the same reports concerning the
condition of the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts and the One Hundred and
Sixteenth New York Volunteers, enlisted at about the same time; but
carried, by the zeal and laudable ambition of their officers, beyond
the reach of this pernicious influence.”

Although very flattering to officers and men, it was afterward
thought that this order did not contribute much to the comfort of
the regiment when under the control of brigade officers whose own
commands were thus unfavorably contrasted with it. At six o’clock,
on the evening of the 13th, orders came to fall in; and the line
was formed in front of the Theatre. Being on the left, the Thirty
Eighth remained in line while the division moved by; and cheers were
exchanged, as the various regiments which had been connected with
the Thirty Eighth passed, the One Hundred and Sixteenth being loudly
greeted. When the time came for the regiment to move, Gen. Dudley,
whose quarters were opposite, addressed it in a few words, concluding
with, “Men of the Thirty Eighth, keep cool, obey orders, and fire
low.”

After leaving the city, and passing through the camps of Dudley’s
Brigade, which formed the reserve, and which was not to move until
the next day, the road led through dense woods, where the vines and
creeping-plants wove the forest into an almost impenetrable barrier,
which shut out every ray of light. The column made slow progress,
and the innumerable halts were as tiresome as the marching; but
about midnight, the bugles sounded a halt, and the army went into
camp for the night in a corn-field. When the rear of the column
reached the camp, the field was ablaze with camp-fires, and the fumes
of the coffee were rising in the air. Up to this time, the company
cook had done all the cooking, but each man had now to prepare his
own rations, or go without. Upon going into camp, the troops were
informed that the plantation belonged to a “Union man,” and that they
were only to take the “top rails” for fires. This order became a
standing one in the Nineteenth Corps, and, during the campaign, they
made it a point to take only the top rails, _as they found them_.
The men were too weary to pitch the new shelter-tents; and rolling
their blankets round them, all except the camp and picket guard were
soon asleep. The reveillé was beaten at two o’clock, and an early
breakfast cooked. By this time, the “top rails” were more accessible
than on going into camp.

At daylight, the march was resumed. The day proved to be a hot one;
and the roadside was soon strown with blankets, overcoats, knapsacks,
and other articles thrown away by the regiments in advance. It was
apparent that the army was rapidly coming down to light-marching
order. Contrabands hung on the flank and rear, picking up the
cast-off garments. Some of the men, not yet having made up their
minds to part with their overcoats, cut off the sleeves and skirts to
lighten their loads. After marching about eleven miles, the column
halted and went into camp in a cane-field, and stacked arms, a
picket being thrown out. The sun came down hot, and the shelter-tents
were found to be convenient. Toward night, the sound of heavy guns
was heard in the vicinity of Port Hudson, and the cannonading
continued through the night, while the shells from the gun-boats
could be plainly seen bursting over the fort. The reveillé was beaten
at four o’clock. The firing at Port Hudson had ceased; but a large
mass of flame, which had been supposed to be some portion of the
enemy’s works, set on fire by the guns from the fleet, began to move
slowly down the river, accompanied, at intervals, by explosions. All
eyes were fixed on the mysterious light, and many gloomy forebodings
indulged in. Had Farragut been defeated, and the fleet been destroyed
by some infernal machine? Or was this one of the marine abortions
of the enemy, committing suicide? Suddenly, at daylight, the mass
of fire seemed to leap high in the air, followed by a dense column
of smoke. The spectators waited in breathless suspense, for a few
seconds, for the explosion. Soon it came; and then every sleeper
started to his feet. Orders were issued to put out all fires, and
for every one to be equipped, and ready for action at a moment’s
notice. It was the general opinion that there would be a brush with
the enemy, if not a pitched battle; and the men were quiet, but
determined. But the morning wore away without an alarm; and, at ten
o’clock, the line was formed, and the column headed for Baton Rouge,
in which direction the wagon-train had already moved. The troops were
in ill-humor, the whole movement seeming incomprehensible to them.
Soon an aide from the commander-in-chief rode up to Col. Gooding
with an order, requesting him to announce to the third brigade
that the “Hartford” and the “Albatross” had passed the batteries
of Port Hudson, and that “the object of the expedition had been
accomplished.” Gradually, the men recovered their accustomed spirits;
and when Gen. Banks rode by the column he was heartily cheered. On
the march back, the carcasses in the fields showed that the reserve
brigade had been “living on the country.” The pontoon bridge was
reached before night, but was not crossed, the brigade marching into
the woods near the road, where they stacked arms and pitched tents.
Soon after dark, it began to rain heavily, and the camping-ground
became a swamp, while the water came through the new shelters,
leaving few dry soldiers in camp that night. The next day, at noon,
another expedition was undertaken. The roads were in a bad condition,
and, in many places, it was necessary to go in single file, to escape
being mired. After a four-mile march, a halt was made in a clearing,
where the command remained during the night, ready to spring to arms
at a moment’s notice, and, the next day, marched back to the bayou.

Friday, the line was again formed, and the brigade marched into Baton
Rouge, and through the city to a magnolia grove, a mile beyond. The
place was alive with mosquitoes, wood-ticks, and similar insects, and
the nimble lizards glided about, making themselves familiar; but the
men were too weary to study natural history, and were soon sleeping
soundly, in spite of such annoyances. The next day was devoted to
bathing, washing clothes, and resting. On Sunday morning (22d), the
regiment started again; and, after marching through all the swamps,
cane-fields, and hedges, bounding that part of the town, halted in
one of the most forbidding looking spots in Baton Rouge, about a
mile from the river, near the “Perkins Road.” A camp was laid out,
company streets staked off, and fatigue parties detailed to clear
away the rubbish, dig up the stumps, and fill the bog-holes. The
tents were pitched just in time to afford partial shelter from a
rain-storm. The men at this time had the impression that Sunday was
the day especially selected in the Nineteenth Army Corps, on which to
begin new movements, or do extra fatigue duty. In a day or two, the
regimental and company baggage that had been packed was returned, and
the A tents again pitched.

Saturday, March 29th, the regiment took its turn at chopping down the
forests in the vicinity of Baton Rouge, so that the guns from the
fort might have a free range, in case of an attack from the enemy.
Some could use the axe professionally; and all tried their hands on
the lofty oaks, beeches, and magnolias, whose fall resounded through
the forest, until the sound of the recall, at four o’clock, when the
regiment returned to camp, tired, but in great good-humor. Drill was
resumed, and the old routine of camp duties began; but this did not
last long, however; for the first day of April found the regiment on
board of a transport, again steaming down the Mississippi. Landing at
Algiers (opposite the city of New Orleans), a new camp was laid out,
the tents again pitched, and drilling went on as usual. Regiments
continued to arrive every day; and soon the plains of Algiers were
white with the tents of Emory’s division.

Here, for the first time since its organization, the regimental
camp-guard was dispensed with, and the men allowed a little liberty
to look around, and see the country they were fighting for. That they
did not abuse the confidence thus reposed in them by their officers,
may be inferred from the fact, that no regimental guard was placed
around the Thirty Eighth after that time; and when other regiments
were confined to strict camp-limits, Lieut.-Col. Richardson allowed
his command, when off duty, to roam anywhere within sound of the
bugle, and, when stationed near a town or city, freely gave leave of
absence when it did not conflict with orders from higher authorities.

At this time, the Forty Seventh Massachusetts was doing garrison
duty in New Orleans, and, having many acquaintances in the Thirty
Eighth, visited them often. The contrast between the nicely-fitting,
home-made uniforms of the Forty Seventh boys, and the shoddy affairs
furnished by the contractors to the Thirty Eighth, was a source of
much amusement to the members of the latter regiment. In the field,
clothing was a matter of little importance; but when a haversack
strap or a knapsack buckle broke at the beginning of a long march,
or the sole came off a shoe at a slight stumble, which very often
happened, the comments on the patriotism of those who provided for
the wants of the army were more expressive than elegant.

Although New Orleans and Algiers had been in the Union hands for over
a year, the feeling was still bitter toward the North. The following
incident will illustrate this feeling. The day before Easter, the
writer of this sketch had a few hours of leisure, and was strolling
through the streets looking at the objects of interest, when, passing
a small church, the sound of Easter hymns floated out on the air.
Not having been inside of a church for many months, the sweet music
brought memories of home to the mind; and, stepping noiselessly
inside, he stood near the door, listening respectfully. The choir
was engaged in a rehearsal, under the direction of a gentleman whose
white cravat and clerical air bespoke the minister. Suddenly, the
singers caught sight of the blue uniform, and the music instantly
ceased. Upon following the direction of their glances, the clergyman
cast what he evidently intended to be a withering look on the
unwelcome spectator. A silence of a few moments ensued, when the
soldier asked if he was intruding. “Yes,” was the reply, in a very
curt tone. Apologizing for the unintentional intrusion, the visitor
retreated, followed to the door by the chivalrous clergyman, who
probably took precautions to prevent his choir from being shocked by
the presence of any more blue uniforms, while singing the anthems of
“Peace on earth, and good will to men.”

Labor being scarce in Algiers, several regiments were called upon to
furnish fatigue parties to assist in raising a gun-boat on the ways
in the dry-dock; and, on the 8th of April, the Thirty Eighth took
their turn, and completed the task.

The regimental baggage was again packed away; and all personal
property, with the exception of a rubber blanket, overcoat, and
change of clothing to each man, was packed in the knapsacks, and
nailed up in large boxes; and at two o’clock, on the morning of the
9th, the reveillé woke the sleeping camp, the tents were struck, and,
by seven o’clock, the regiment was on board of the cars, bound for
the interior of Louisiana. For eighty miles, the road ran through
a low, swampy country. The ditches beside the embankment on which
the track was laid were full of alligators, who swam lazily through
the green, stagnant waters, or basked in the sun on the banks;
nearly every floating log or stick was tenanted by a repulsive
water-moccasin; and frogs of huge proportions plumped into the
water as the train went by. These specimens of the animate life of
Louisiana were regarded with much interest by the regiment, as they
were to be intimate neighbors, possibly, in the future.

The line of road was guarded by New York and Connecticut regiments;
and their post did not appear to be an enviable one. A little after
noon, the train arrived at Brashear City. The place was full of
troops; and others were continually arriving in the cars or on foot,
and crossing the bay to Berwick City. The Thirty Eighth formed in
line, the sick-call was blown, and another examination held; and all
those who were considered unable to keep up with the column were
kept behind, to do light guard-duty. Some who had been foremost in
every duty were left here, much to their regret. After waiting for
an hour or two, the regiment embarked on the gun-boat “Clinton,”
and was transported across Berwick Bay to Berwick City, accompanied
by Gen. Banks and staff, and the shelter-tents pitched in a level
field, where the clover was ankle-deep. A large force was collected
here, the troops of Emory’s division being joined to the veterans of
Weitzel, who had already achieved victory in this vicinity.

CHAPTER V.

On the March again—Co. F Detached to guard Bridge—Centreville—Battle
of Bisland—Pursuit of the enemy—Franklin—District of the
Tèche—Neutral Flags—A Day’s Rest—Fording a Bayou—Opelousas.

On the 11th of April, the division broke camp, and moved out on the
main road toward Centreville; the gun-boats shelling the woods from
the bayou, and the cavalry scouting in advance. Co. F was detached,
and ordered to remain behind to guard a bridge on the line of the
railroad, to prevent raids on the rear, while the army moved on.

The rebels were reported to be in large force near Pattersonville,
under the command of Gen. Dick Taylor, determined to stop the advance
of the Union troops through this portion of the Confederacy; and they
were reported to have erected strong fortifications at Camp Bisland.

After a dusty march over the turnpike, feeling its way along, the
army went into camp beyond Pattersonville; and soon the camp-fires
were blazing for miles around, lighting up the country, and giving
the enemy warning of the approach of the Union forces.

Co. F remained in its position, crouching behind the brakes, and
occasionally throwing sticks at the alligators in the ditches, and
all the while keeping a sharp look-out for the rebel pickets ahead,
until four o’clock, when it crossed the bridge, and struck out for
the army. Just beyond the bridge, a letter was picked up, addressed
to a woman in Texas, and bearing Confederate postage-stamps. It
purported to have been written on picket that day, and gave a
statement of the number of Confederate troops in the vicinity, with
some account of the movements of the Union forces. It was well
written, but had probably been dropped on purpose, with the intention
of misleading. Night found the company marching through the woods,
the rebel picket-posts by the roadside giving evidence of having been
occupied quite recently. No one in the company was acquainted with
the road; and the chances were even of bringing up in either camp;
but the orders were peremptory to join the regiment in the evening.
After a march of several hours, sometimes by the flank, sometimes in
single file, through ditches, hedges, and swamps, the camp-fires of
an army appeared in sight. Doubtful whether it were friend or foe,
Captain Rundlet sent out reconnoiterers, who soon ascertained that
all was right, and the company marched into the camp of the Second
Rhode Island Cavalry. The regiment was a mile further on, encamped in
a cane-field, beyond Pattersonville.

The owner of the plantation had fled; but many of the negroes still
remained, and were soon at work making corn-cakes for the soldiers,
out of massa’s meal.

About noon, the army advanced in line of battle. The march was
through a cane-field, the canes still standing; and, as they grew
thick and strong, it became difficult to keep a proper line. The
batteries were moving up to the front, shelling the woods as they
advanced; and a rifle-shot would be occasionally heard. After
marching in this manner for two miles, the regiment halted for
several hours, the cannonading still continuing. Between three and
four o’clock, it was announced that the fighting was over for the
day, and the march was resumed; but it was suddenly stopped by the
breaking out afresh of the artillery fire. Laying on the ground, in
cover of the standing cane, the regiment witnessed a sharp artillery
engagement. A large sugar-mill had been set on fire, and the flames
soon spread to the surrounding cabins. The bursting of the shells,
the volumes of flame and smoke issuing from the mill, the sharp crack
of the rifle, the galloping of aides over the field with orders, and
the bayonets glistening over the tops of the canes, as the brigades
manœuvred over the field, was a new experience to the Thirty Eighth.
The firing lasted about an hour, gradually ceasing as the batteries
fell back; the position of the enemy having been ascertained, and the
object of the reconnoissance accomplished. Fires were not allowed,
and the men went without their coffee for the first time. Equipments
were kept on, and the regiment bivouacked in rear of the stacks.
In the evening, a call was made for sharpshooters, to pick off the
gunners of the Diana, in case she should come down the bayou; and
the number required reported at once. There was no alarm during the
night; and, in the morning, the army again moved forward. A bridge
had been thrown across the bayou; and the third brigade crossed
over, a rebel shell occasionally dropping into the water, near the
bridge, sending up the spray, and facilitating the passage of the
troops, who wished to do their fighting on firmer footing than the
swaying bridge afforded. The artillery were at work on both sides,
and it was evident that the long-expected battle was about to take
place. While the brigade was getting into line, after having crossed
the stream, Gens. Banks and Emory passed, and were enthusiastically
greeted. Marching up the road, the brigade filed into a cane-field,
in front of a portion of the rebel works. The Thirty First
Massachusetts were in advance, the Thirty Eighth following, with
the Fifty Third Massachusetts in the rear; and the One Hundred and
Fifty Sixth New York were sent toward the woods on the right. The
cane-field was intersected with broad, deep ditches, now entirely
dry, and their sides lined with blackberry bushes. The Thirty First
deployed, and moved forward in a skirmish-line part way across the
field, until within gunshot of the enemy, when they halted in one of
the ditches, and began to fire, the rebels occasionally returning
the shots, from behind the breastworks. The Thirty First retained
their position during the forenoon, losing two or three men, who
were carried to the rear past the Thirty Eighth, which remained in
reserve, picking blackberries, watching the fight, and getting their
ears accustomed to the shrieking of the shells, and the discharges
of musketry. The One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, in the meantime, were
gradually working their way into the woods on the right flank. The
heavy firing on the left of the bayou told that the other brigades
were also at work.

While Gen. Emory’s division and Weitzel’s brigade were confronting
the enemy, and engaging their attention, Gen. Grover’s division,
which had crossed the country through the La Fourche district, was
endeavoring to come in their rear, and thus, by enclosing them
between the two portions of the army, cut off all retreat, and compel
the surrender of the entire force. Having this programme in view,
it had not been the policy of Gen. Banks to bring on a decisive
engagement until Grover was ready to “close up the bag.”

At noon, the ammunition of the Thirty First being exhausted, it was
relieved by the Thirty Eighth. This position was occupied but a short
time, when the order was given to advance. Keeping the exact distance
they had been taught in the drill, in a well-dressed skirmish-line,
the men moved steadily toward the breastworks. The right companies
soon began to receive shots from the woods; but were instructed not
to fire in that direction, as the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth held
the position. Obeying orders, they reserved their fire until the
rebel gunners were plainly visible working the batteries. A piece of
cane had been left standing near the line of earthworks; and, just
before the advance reached its cover, the rebels opened a rapid fire
of artillery and musketry. The skirmishers were ordered to lie down,
while the shells and bullets screamed and whistled over their heads.
But they were not long inactive. Taking advantage of stumps, ditches,
furrows, and canes, they poured a rapid fire into the enemy’s works.
The gunners were picked off; and the traditional “officer on the
white horse” was made an especial target. While the right was more
exposed to the enemy’s rifles, the centre and left suffered from
their artillery, the colors being a prominent mark. Color-corporal
Trow, of Co. D, was instantly killed by a solid shot; and Cos. A and
G suffered particularly from shells. By one of these explosions,
Capt. Gault, of the former company, had his leg badly shattered, and
died in a few hours; and a number of men were wounded.

The battle lasted all day on both sides of the bayou. As evening
drew near, the ammunition of the Thirty Eighth gave out. Many men
had fired all their cartridges, and were trying to borrow from
their more economical comrades. The wounded had been taken to the
rear, and attended to in the field hospital. And now the Fifty Third
came forward, and relieved the Thirty Eighth, who fell slowly back
under fire, till they reached the place selected as quarters for the
night,—a deep, dry ditch, near the centre of the field. Of course, no
fires were allowed, and supper was made of hard-tack and water.

Partly filling the ditch with dry canes, and wrapping their blankets
around them, with the guns of the First Maine Battery beating the
tattoo a few yards in their rear, the men laid down, their rifles
by their side, and their equipments on, ready to fall in line at
the first call. Contrary to expectation, there was no alarm during
the night. In the morning, a portion of the field was searched
for missing men. Thomas W. Hevey, of Co. I, was brought in, dead,
the stem of his pipe firmly fixed in his teeth. He was smoking
when struck by the fatal bullet, and fell on his face. During the
engagement, six had been killed and thirty wounded, a complete list
of whom will be found in another portion of the work.

Fires were now allowed to be built, and coffee made, after which
the regiment moved forward in line. The Fifty Third had remained
all night in the front, and its flags were seen near the works, the
regiment advancing in line of battle. The Thirty First was also
moving on. All was quiet behind the earthworks; and soon the report
came that the enemy had evacuated their position during the night,
and were in full retreat, three miles ahead. At this time, Gen.
Grover was supposed by the men to have cut off all retreat, and the
army was in excellent spirits at the anticipated bagging of the whole
force; but it was soon learned that a hole had been left, and the
slippery foe had wriggled out of it. Crossing the cane-field, the
Thirty Eighth entered the rebel works. The killed and wounded men
had been removed; but the dead horses scattered about gave evidence
of the accuracy of the aim of the brigade in this its maiden fight.
The camp-fires were still smouldering inside of the works; and the
remains of the hasty breakfast of roasted ears of corn gave proof
that the rebels had not been long gone. Skirmishing a short distance
through the woods beyond the fortifications, and finding no enemy,
the line was again formed, and the brigade moved by the flank along
the road, until further progress was stopped by a bayou, the bridge
over which had been partially burned, and was still smoking. Here an
abandoned caisson was fished out of the stream, the first trophy of
the victory. The pioneers soon repaired the bridge, and the column
passed over, and halted a few hours, while the artillery and the
wagon-train were brought across.

It was a long, weary march that Gen. Dick Taylor led the Army of
the Gulf through this country of bayous and plantations. Had there
been a respectable cavalry force in the department, but few of those
who fought behind the fortifications of Bisland would have reached
Alexandria; but the delay caused in repairing bridges prevented the
Union army from coming up with its foes, and the majority of them
escaped, although completely demoralized, and deprived of the power
of acting on the offensive for several months.

An amusing incident occurred just after the march was resumed. A
man, apparently dressed in gray uniform, was seen running across
a corn-field, toward the woods. Although many hundred yards off,
a number of rifles were instantly levelled at him, and the minies
went whistling on their errand. He hesitated for a moment, and then
started on again, when another discharge took place, and the dust
was seen to fly near the mark. Making frantic signals, he faced
about, and came toward the road. A nearer inspection proved him to
be a harmless contraband, in the usual plantation suit. The fighting
of the day before had given the boys a liking for the sound of their
Enfields; and probably every gun in the regiment would have been
discharged if the fugitive had not halted. The poor fellow, no doubt,
came to the conclusion that the “day of jubilo” had not yet come.

The heat was intense during the day, and the men suffered a good deal
from the dust and from thirst, many falling out. But the commanding
general wished to give the enemy no time to throw up intrenchments.
Barely halting long enough for a hasty lunch at noon, the column
pushed on. A little while after dark, the brigade passed through
the pretty town of Franklin, and went into camp in a cane-field. No
one thought of pitching tents, or of cooking coffee. Eating a few
hard-tack, and washing it down with bayou water, each man (except the
unfortunate guard) selected as level a furrow as convenient, spread
his rubber, and was soon enjoying a well-earned rest. Just as the men
had settled themselves for the night, the commissary sergeant came
around with the information that fresh meat was ready. It was left
on the ground for the benefit of the plantation hands who swarmed in
the rear of the army.

Wednesday morning, April 18, the column moved at six o’clock, the
Thirty Eighth on the right of the brigade, making the marching a
little easier than on the day before. The country through which the
army was now passing, known as the Tèche district, was considered
the richest part of Louisiana previous to the war. Unable to get
their crops to market, the sugar and cotton-houses were filled to
overflowing. Large herds of cattle fed in the pastures, and the
woods were full of hogs. Nearly all of the able-bodied young men
were in the Confederate army; and, at the approach of the Union
troops, the old planters fled to the woods in many instances, and
hid until the column had passed by. No Northern soldiers had been
seen in that country before; and the long lines of infantry, the
numerous batteries, and the immense wagon-trains, were a source of
never-ending wonder to the crowds of slaves, who flocked to the
roadsides and climbed the fences to see Massa Linkum’s boys. “Bress
de Lord! We’se been lookin’ for ye dese twenty years, and ye’re
come at last!” exclaimed one well-developed old lady, who, clothed
in a very short dress, very full pants, and a broad plantation hat,
had mounted on a high rail-fence to get a good look at the Yankee
soldiers. These poor people had little means with which to gratify
their desires to serve those whom they looked upon as friends; yet
many of them baked their last mess of meal into corn-cake for the
hungry soldiers. The few white men that were seen in this region
had the appearance of having just thrown the musket aside, with the
intention of resuming it again as soon as the army passed, and before
the sun-marks should fade from their faces.

On many of the houses, English and French flags were flying; the
inmates thinking their property might be more secure by claiming
foreign protection. During the entire march, private property was
respected to a degree never before shown by an army in an enemy’s
country; and guards were placed over many of the houses of prominent
rebels. It is true that less regard was shown to the occupants of
a poorer class of houses; and the immense number of contrabands
attached to the Army of the Gulf, in the capacity of officers’
servants, were not very scrupulous, and generally came into camp at
night pretty well laden with poultry and vegetables; but, as their
labor had produced these articles, perhaps they were entitled to
them. An indiscriminate liberty to forage would have been fatal to
the efficiency of the army, and might have defeated the object of the
campaign. Thus, while there was comparatively little foraging carried
on, these foreign flags were no safeguard. If an unlucky chicken or
pig had happened in the way, he would have been gobbled up, if he had
borne the private mark of Victoria or Napoleon.

Thursday night, the army went into camp before dark, beyond the
village of Indian Bend. The country hitherto had been perfectly
level, and, previous to the war, was mostly devoted to the culture of
sugar; but, in accordance with the advice of the Confederate leaders,
many of the plantations were now planted with corn.

On Friday, the aspect of the country changed, and rolling prairies
succeeded to the low plains. Herds of cattle roamed over these
prairies; the view of which caused some lively comments on the
starving-out theory indulged in by some of the good people at home.
Saturday, April 18, the entire force rested. It had been a full
week since leaving Berwick City; and the troops had been marching
or fighting continuously, sleeping nearly every night with their
equipments on. In addition to this, each regiment furnished its
proportion of the picket; and, after a march of from twenty to thirty
miles, those detailed had to sling their bundles again, go off half
a mile or a mile into the woods, and keep awake part of the night,
peering into the darkness, and making their supper of hard-tack and
water. It may, perhaps, be imagined how welcome this day of rest was
to both man and beast, under these circumstances.

A fine head of cattle was confiscated here; and a large portion of
the day spent in feasting. In fact, there was no lack of fresh meat
during the entire march through this country; but, as it was brought
into camp generally after the men had quartered for the night, little
of it was cooked. And then this was the first year in the field, and
that experience had not been acquired which makes the difference
between raw recruits and veterans.

Sunday morning, the 19th, the army was again in motion. The line was
just forming, when the clouds opened, and the rain and hail came
down in a manner peculiar to Louisiana. In a few minutes, every one
was wet to the skin; and, in this state, a long day’s march began.
The cavalry and artillery cut up the roads, so that the infantry
went into the soft mud to the ankles at every step. During the day,
the army marched through the village of Lafayetteville, in which
nearly every house had a white rag hung out as a token of peace.
These people had heard such stories of the Union army, that they
looked upon its approach with terror and apprehension; but the men
who enlisted in ’61 and ’62 were no desperadoes, and did not make war
on women and children. That night, the brigade encamped on a piece
of grassland, and found it much preferable to the usual cane-field
furrows. Starting again in the morning (April 20), a wide, shallow
stream was reached, which had to be forded. The horses went over
first, making numerous holes in the soft bottom; and it was an
amusing sight to see the infantry feel their way cautiously along,
half sliding, half walking, some unfortunate individual occasionally
missing his footing, and plunging headlong into the muddy stream.

About four o’clock, P. M., the bugles sounded a halt, and an
aide rode down from the front with an order to the effect, that
Opelousas, the Confederate capital of the State, had surrendered
unconditionally. This important announcement was received with
cheers; the ranks closed up; the colors were unfurled; the drums
beat; and, with a proud step, the column marched on. Passing a few
scattering houses, the open country was again reached, when the
inquiries became numerous as to the whereabouts of the capital. It
was learned that the army had marched through one of the principal
streets. This was not the first time they had been deceived by an
imposing name bestowed upon a handful of buildings; but it was hardly
worth while to make a parade of surrendering this little clearing,
if the travelling government of the State did make a transient stay
there.

CHAPTER VI.

Taylor’s force had by this time become completely demoralized and
broken up, and a portion of it captured; there was no longer any fear
of its assuming the offensive; and the army remained in camp until
the 5th of May, while plans were being matured for the continuance
of the campaign. Great inconvenience was experienced here from the
scarcity of wood and water. Beginning with the nearest fences, the
cooks and their assistants had gradually laid bare the fields beyond
the picket-line. A muddy pond near the camp furnished a portion of
the water, until the horses refused to drink it, when the men gave
it up, and brought water from the wells, at a great distance. While
laying here, long trains of wagons daily passed in sight of the
camp, laden with cotton; and many of the volunteers, who had been
accustomed to think for themselves, and still held that privilege in
reserve, were of the opinion, that if the teams had been employed,
under regularly organized fatigue parties, in bringing sweet potatoes
and other vegetables into the camps, a more efficient force might
have been taken to Port Hudson, and the country better served than in
collecting cotton, even for its own benefit.

During the halt at Opelousas, a series of complimentary orders
were read to the troops on parade, from Gens. Banks, Emory, and
the brigade commander, Col. Gooding, congratulating them on their
success, and expressing confidence in the successful prosecution of
the campaign.

On the 24th, the division was reviewed by Gens. Banks and Emory. The
first brigade (Col. Ingraham’s) had been broken up, and the regiments
composing it stationed at the various important posts between
Brashear and Opelousas; so that there were present only eleven
regiments of infantry, two batteries, and some squadrons of cavalry.
The Fourth Wisconsin made its first appearance at this review as
cavalry. Mounted on horses and mules of every description, with most
primitive and unique equipments, it excited considerable merriment,
and gave little promise of the great reputation it afterwards
attained,—the pride of the Army of the Gulf, and the terror of the
rebels of Louisiana.

At this time, an order was issued by the brigade commander,
forbidding officers to address the men as “boys,” saying that they
were men in every sense of the word, and should be so styled at
all times. The “boys” laughed at this new idea: the custom was too
deep-seated in the service to be eradicated by a brigade order. The
mails did not reach the regiment very often; and there were all kinds
of rumors in regard to matters in the world outside. The announcement
of the fall of Charleston was received with mingled cheers and
expressions of doubt.

Monday night, May 4, an order was read on parade, announcing the
arrival at Baton Rouge of a cavalry force under Col. Grierson, after
a successful raid through the State of Mississippi. The news of this
achievement was received with pleasure by the Army of the Gulf, as
showing that the heavy drain on the fighting men of the South had
begun to show itself by the defenceless state of that portion of
the Confederacy away from the immediate vicinity of the chief rebel
armies.

There was but little drilling at Opelousas, the intense heat during
the greater part of the time, making officers and men alike glad
to seek the shade. Capt. Doten, of Co. G, resigned his commission
at this time, and made a farewell address to the regiment before
taking his leave. On the 30th, the regiment was mustered for pay;
and Tuesday morning, the 5th of May, found it again on the march.
Passing through the little town of Washington, about six miles from
Opelousas, the route lay through a rich cotton and sugar section;
but the greater portion of the land was now planted with corn, the
rebels having learned that Cotton was no longer king. Marching for
miles through these immense fields of corn, growing rapidly under
the Louisiana sun, the men of the Thirty Eighth were amused at the
ponderous articles which occasionally reached them in some of the
Northern journals, demonstrating how easy it would be to starve the
South into submission.

The roads began to be very dusty, and oftentimes the water was poor
and scarce; but the army kept on its way, day after day, the men
dragging themselves into camp at night, with blistered feet, and
too tired to cook the fresh meat regularly issued. For four days,
this forced marching was continued, barely stopping long enough at
noon to boil a dipper of coffee. On the 8th of May, when a few miles
from Alexandria, news came, that the gun-boats of Admiral Porter had
reached that town, and that it was in possession of the navy. After
a long halt at noon, the regiments unrolled their flags, the bands
uncovered their instruments, and the army marched into the town in
good order, to music which had become strange to this portion of
the Union, and which was heard by the residents with no emotions of
pleasure. The faces of the citizens wore that same expression of
mingled bitterness and curiosity that had been noticed in Franklin,
Opelousas, and Washington; and even the little children seemed to
think it no pageant in which they should take delight. Marching
through the town, the brigade went into camp on a level grass-plat,
near the banks of the Red River.

By order of Gen. Emory, drills were dispensed with at Alexandria, and
“every opportunity given the men to recover from the fatigues of the
recent march, and prepare for the active duties still before them.”
The river was alive with bathers daily; and its banks were lined with
busy washermen. Gun-boats and transports steamed up and down the
river, giving a lively appearance to the place; but business, other
than military and naval, was stagnant.

On the 14th, marching orders were received. The reveillé was beaten
at two o’clock, A. M., the next morning (Friday); but the Thirty
Eighth having the position of rear-guard, did not move until
daylight. There had been heavy showers the day previous, turning the
dust into mud, and the progress was slow. Still twenty miles were
made, the army going into camp occupied by them on the upward march,
on the banks of a bayou.

The next morning, the third brigade had the centre of the column,
and the marching was easier. The old road was followed as far as the
village of Cheneyville, when the route changed, and the army turned
again toward the Red River. That night, the regiment camped in a
cane-field near a large sugar-mill, stored with more than one year’s
crop. The troops were liberally supplied with sugar by order of the
division commander, the neighboring fields supplied adventurous
foragers with new potatoes, and the plantation ditches were full
of ripe blackberries; so that, with the fresh meat issued by the
quartermaster, the regiment fared unusually well, and long remembered
the bivouac by the old mill.

A short march was made the next day, the army going into camp at nine
o’clock, near Simmsport, on the Atchafalaya River. There, to the
great joy of every one, a large mail, both of letters and papers, was
received; and the regiment once more learned how the world outside
was moving. Tuesday morning, May 19, the troops were ferried across
the Atchafalaya, and encamped on the other side, with the expectation
of remaining several days; but Thursday morning saw the inevitable
“orderly” ride into camp, and the column was again in motion.

For the past month, the weather had been rapidly growing warmer, the
roads more dusty, and the swamp and bayou water on the line of march
more unpalatable; and the regiment parted with regret from the clear
Atchafalaya, with its green, shady banks, and its beautiful scenery.

A portion of the country in this vicinity having been flooded by
breaks in the levee, the progress was slow; the artillery and wagons
being obliged to go on top of the embankment raised to keep back
the waters of the Old River,—a former bed of the Mississippi. The
regiment went into camp about dark, in a woods, beyond a small town,
and starting again at daylight, during the forenoon reached the
Mississippi, at Morganza Bend. De Soto and his Spaniards greeted the
mighty river with no more enthusiasm on its discovery than did the
dusty and thirsty Army of the Gulf when it once more came in view.
Its muddy waters were eagerly sipped, and the canteens filled for
future use.

CHAPTER VII.

Cross the Mississippi—Bayou Sara—Storm—St. Francisville—Approach
Port Hudson—Skirmish on the 25th of May—Negro Soldiers—Battle of
May 27—Death of Lieut.-Col. Rodman—The Ravines.

At Morganza, the army found transports awaiting to take it across
the river. A sail of fourteen miles brought the steamers to Bayou
Sara, where the troops were disembarked, and rations issued. This
village had seen fit to harbor the guerillas, who, from their ambush,
had fired alike on vessels of war and peaceful river-boats; and it
bore the marks of the prompt punishment inflicted by the gun-boats.
Solitary chimneys arose from heaps of rubbish which marked the spots
where once houses and places of business had rested secure under the
old flag; and a general air of lifelessness and decay pervaded the
place.

The regiment had scarcely begun the ascent of the steep bluff
overlooking the village, when one of the sudden storms peculiar
to the Valley of the Mississippi, broke over them; and in a few
minutes they were not only wet through, but the deep red soil was so
saturated, that marching became almost impossible. Passing through
the village of St. Francisville, the brigade encamped at night near a
cotton-press, and built huge fires, around which the men grouped till
partially dry; the picket detail, however, going to their posts wet
and supperless, but without complaint.

The next morning, upon the arrival of Mack’s Black Horse Battery
(Eighteenth New York), the column moved toward Port Hudson. The
road was bordered on each side by a high hedge, which shut out all
air, and made the heat very oppressive; and it was gratifying, upon
emerging into the open country, to find a broad, shallow stream,
with a clean, pebbly bottom directly in the line of march. It was
easily forded by the infantry, but the artillery and wagons caused
some delay. While waiting for the batteries to cross the stream, a
body of cavalry rode by, which proved to be the famed command of Col.
Grierson, whose great raid through Mississippi was the forerunner
of the exploits of Sheridan, Stoneman, and Kilpatrick. Gen. Banks
and staff also rode by; and the cheering news was announced that a
connection had been made with the division of Gen. Augur, which had
marched up from Baton Rouge, and that Port Hudson was completely
surrounded, and its fall a matter of time only.

Sunday, May 24, the regiment enjoyed a rest, merely changing camp
once. On the 25th, the Thirty Eighth leaving the brigade, marched to
Sandy Creek, on the extreme right of the line; and several of the
companies deployed as skirmishers near the creek, the enemy firing
across the stream from the opposite side. In this skirmish, two men
were killed, and two wounded.

In the afternoon, two native Louisiana regiments arrived at the
creek; and the Thirty Eighth had an opportunity to witness the
behavior of the first colored troops under fire in this war. A great
deal of romance has been spoken and printed about this affair; but,
without wishing to detract in the least from the really valuable
services rendered by the colored troops during the siege, especially
in the engineer’s department, it may be doubted if the exaggerated
accounts of their bravery were of any real benefit to the “colored
boys in blue.”

It had been the fashion for so long a time to decry the courage of
the colored man, and deny him all the attributes of manhood, that,
when he proved himself something more than a beast of burden, public
opinion went to the opposite extreme; and men who had been for
years boasting of the superiority of the Northern over the Southern
races, and quoting all history to prove it, now asserted that this
new freedman was the equal, if not the superior, of the Northern
volunteer. It was even reported that Gen. Banks had said that the
colored soldiers went where the white ones dared not go; and although
this was an improbable story, it injured the general’s popularity,
and increased the prejudice already existing against the colored
troops in the Thirteenth and Nineteenth Corps.

The regiment remained near Sandy Creek during the next day,
supporting the battery, while the colored regiments were at work
building a bridge. On the night of the 26th, there were two alarms,
caused by the stampeding of mules; and the Thirty Eighth received
a volley from one of the colored regiments, who thought the enemy
were making a cavalry raid; but, owing to the high range taken, the
bullets whistled harmlessly over head, and the panic soon subsided.

During the Tèche campaign, Co. E had held the honorable position of
head-quarter guard for Gen. Emory, and had seldom encamped near the
regiment; but upon the withdrawal of that general to New Orleans,
the company returned to its proper position in the Thirty Eighth, and
shared in all the labors of the siege.

Wednesday morning, the regiment received orders to join its brigade,
which had been engaged, farther on the left, in driving the enemy
from the woods, and into his works. The Thirty First had been
prominent in this skirmishing, and had lost a number of men.

The battle began early on the morning of the 27th; and as the Thirty
Eighth drew near the front, on the double-quick, the wounded men were
already being carried to the rear, and the surgeons of the various
regiments were arranging their instruments on the temporary tables
put up in the fields, not entirely out of reach of wandering shells.
The sight of the glittering instruments was suggestive; but there was
no time for foreboding.

While the Thirty Eighth was hunting in the woods for the brigade,
Gen. Paine rode up, and sent it forward to support Duryea’s Battery,
which he had just placed in position on the edge of the woods, in
front of the rebel works. Taking cover in rear of the guns, the
regiment awaited events, having enthusiastically promised Gen. Paine
to stand by the battery at all hazards.

The artillery directed a heavy fire upon the fortifications from
various points, dismounting cannon, and blowing up caissons; the
skirmishers had worked their way up to the ditch in front of the
breastworks, and were seen running up the embankment; and the fire
from the enemy had almost ceased. It was generally believed that the
outer line of works had been abandoned; and the regiment, issuing
from the rear of the battery, formed in line of battle, and charged
on the double-quick; but, on account of the ravines and fallen
timber on each side of the roadway, the line of battle could not be
maintained, and the order was given, “by the right flank,” which
movement was immediately executed. Another regiment was in advance,
and through some misapprehension, did not go forward, causing the two
commands to be mixed up, the colors being nearly side by side.

By this time, the breastworks were fully manned, and a volley of
musketry met the advancing column; but there was no hesitation,
when, to the surprise of the regiment, the order came to “lie down.”
Accustomed to obey orders promptly, the men dropped at once, some in
the roadway, others in the ravines to the right and left. And now the
enemy had it all their own way. Safe behind their works, they took
deliberate aim at every man in that exposed position who showed signs
of life. Lieut. Col. Rodman, rising to give or receive an order, was
struck in the breast by a bullet, and fell lifeless, the command
then devolving upon Capt. Wyman, of Co. B. For hours, the men in the
roadway remained beneath the scorching sun, suffering for want of
water, and knowing that the least movement would be the signal for
a death-messenger from the enemy; yet, notwithstanding the constant
artillery and musketry fire, men slept soundly at times. During the
afternoon, the dry brush and trees in the ravines took fire, adding
to the intense heat, and driving portions of the troops to seek new
cover. The assault on other portions of the line had been equally
unsuccessful, and the casualties still larger, an unusual number of
commanding officers being among the killed; but the ground was held;
and, before night, the men had acquired such a knowledge of the
position, and availed themselves so thoroughly of every advantage
afforded by the ravines, that it was unsafe for a rebel to show his
head above the breastworks.

The casualties in the Thirty Eighth had been few, considering the
severe fire to which it was exposed; and the rebels must have
discharged their muskets at random. There had been three killed and
fourteen wounded.

The regiment remained on the field through the night, the dead and
wounded having been taken to the rear before dark. A few extracts
from letters written at the time, may perhaps give a better idea
of the events that transpired within the following week, with the
impressions of the men, the rumors, etc., than any more formal
account:

“Thursday, May, 28.... The rebels opened fire this morning from their
batteries, and ours replied, blowing up a caisson of ammunition
inside of the works. A flag of truce was put up soon after, and the
firing ceased. Both sides have been burying the dead this forenoon;
and we have been lying in the ravine, near the works, the sun coming
down hot. The truce will be up at two o’clock, I believe, when the
battle will probably begin again.

“Friday morning, 29th. The flag of truce was up till seven o’clock
last night. There was perfect quiet along the entire line; and
officers and men were scattered over the field, looking for the dead
and wounded, and gazing at the works in front of us. Two companies
of the One Hundred and Sixtieth New York were in the ditch in front
of the works; and the rebels occasionally looked over, and chatted
with them. We understood that the long truce was on account of some
negotiations; the rebels offering to surrender the place if allowed
to march out with military honors. These terms were not accepted,
and the truce was to terminate at seven. Just before that hour, we
received orders to keep under cover, as the battle was to commence
as soon as the flags were withdrawn. We watched the little white
signals closely. Ours was taken down, and then that of the enemy
was withdrawn. In a few minutes, the ball opened on our side, and,
for about an hour, the roar of cannon and musketry was continuous.
The firing gradually died away, with the exception of a little
skirmishing, which was kept up during the night, with an occasional
discharge from the batteries, to let them know that we were on the
alert. We kept awake all night, ready to drive them back, if they
attempted to cut their way through, which it was thought they might
possibly do.... There is not much fighting this morning, although a
bullet hums by when any one goes for water or shows his head above
the level of the hill.

“Saturday morning, May 30.... We remained in the ravines yesterday,
the right and left wings of the regiment having changed position.
Skirmishing was kept up all day, and the batteries were at work
a portion of the time; but the firing was not very heavy. A smart
shower passed over toward evening, soaking us through, and we had a
prospect of passing a very disagreeable night, for it is quite cool
yet without blankets, even when one is dry. Just at dark, however, we
were relieved by the Twelfth Maine, and sent into the woods in rear
of the batteries.”

This three days’ exposure to alternate heat and moisture broke down
many constitutions that had borne up under all the severe marching
through the Tèche country; and men were daily sent to the rear, the
majority of whom died before, or soon after, reaching Baton Rouge,
to which place the sick and wounded men were at first sent. It would
be impossible, in the limits of this sketch, to give an extended
notice of all who died from hard service during the campaigns of the
regiment; but the writer has taken pains to prepare a correct list,
which will be found in another place; and the facts will also be
appended to each name in its appropriate place in the company.

After reaching the position selected in the woods, the blankets were
brought, and, still wet through, the regiment laid down to rest
without equipments on, for the first time since the morning of the
assault.

Although the batteries kept up an occasional fire through the night,
it did not prevent sleep; and even when a stray shell from the other
side went wandering carelessly through the forest, making a path
among the thick woods, it was scarcely heeded, so exhausted had the
men become from the week’s labor.

Saturday (30th), the regiment remained in the rear; and many were
made glad by receiving letters from home, brought by Mr. Stacy Read,
of Cambridge, who had come from Massachusetts to make inquiries into
the situation of the various regiments from the State. At the same
time, Maj. Richardson returned to the regiment, although not having
recovered from the severe illness with which he had been suffering.

The Thirty Eighth was not allowed to remain long in the rear. As
soon as the approach of night shrouded the movement from the foe,
the line was formed in the edge of the woods; and, cautiously
marching past the batteries, taking especial care that no loose
dipper should notify the enemy of an approach, the regiment passed
unharmed over the road where it had met with such a hot reception,
and took its old position in the ravines. This time, the blankets
and shelter-tents were taken; and they were arranged so as to afford
some protection from the rays of the sun. Upon entering the woods on
the morning of the assault, the knapsacks had been left in charge of
a guard, and the men had gone into the fight with no incumbrance but
their haversacks and canteens; and thus for three days they remained
in the ravines in front of the works, with no shelter from the sun or
rain.

The rations were cooked in the woods; and volunteers went from the
quarters, and carried them to the several companies. While doing
this, they were exposed to the fire of sharpshooters from behind the
works, who had obtained a complete range of the road travelled by the
ration-bearers, and who never failed to send their compliments, when
they saw the coffee and meat on its way to the ravines; and in this
way one member of the regiment was killed, and one wounded.

Not knowing at what moment the enemy might sally out from his
works, and attempt to force his way through the lines, and thus
escape an inevitable surrender from want of food, the troops in
the ravines were obliged to exercise strict vigilance, especially
during the night. Pickets were thrown out on the road, and one-half
of the regiment kept awake while the other slept, all with their
equipments on, and with loaded rifles by their side, ready for
battle at the first note of alarm; but the rebels, either doubting
the practicability of a successful attack upon the Union lines, or
waiting for outside assistance from Johnson, remained in their works,
contenting themselves with sending a few shells and shot occasionally
over the heads of the troops in the ravines. One rebel gun, the “Lady
Davis,” was particularly active in this work, and generally sent a
few of her noisy messengers in the vicinity of the Thirty Eighth
every evening.

CHAPTER VIII.

Relieved—March to Clinton—Great Heat—Deserting a Plantation—Return
to Port Hudson—Assault on the 14th of June—Heavy Loss in the
Thirty Eighth.

When the regiment went to the front the second time, the men expected
to be relieved in twenty-four hours; but the fourth day found them
still there. On the evening of that day, they were relieved, and
enjoyed another day’s rest in the woods. What followed may be learned
from the following extract from a letter:—

“Saturday, June 6th, 5 P. M.—We are now out of the din of battle
which surrounds Port Hudson, and went to sleep last night, for the
first time in twelve days, without the accompaniment of cannon and
musketry. It appears that the rebels have been collecting a force
at Clinton, about twenty or thirty miles from Port Hudson, and have
recently defeated a portion of our cavalry, compelling them to
retreat; and there was danger of our supply-trains being captured.
In consequence of this, a force has been sent out, under command of
Gen. Paine, to drive them off, or give them battle if they stand.
We started early Friday morning; but several of the regiments took
the wrong road, and we had to wait until they retraced their steps,
and caught up with us. At noon, we halted for an hour or so, and
then resumed our march; but, while we had been laying in front of
Port Hudson, the sun had been climbing up in the heavens, and it was
found that we could not march as we had done. Men began to fall, all
through the line; and the hospital stretchers were soon filled with
them, panting for breath. The whole force was at once taken into
the woods, where it remained until six o’clock in the evening, when
the march was resumed, and kept up till nine o’clock.... We started
at six this morning, and marched till eleven, and have been in the
shade since, near a swift-running bayou, which affords an excellent
opportunity for bathing.”

At twelve o’clock, Saturday night, the command was again in motion,
although few had obtained any sleep. “We nodded as we marched along,
and were completely lost if we halted a moment.” Having marched to
within eight miles of Clinton, the column halted, rested for a short
time, and then faced about, and took the road back, the cavalry
having gone ahead, and learned that the enemy had evacuated the town.
We again quote from the letter:—

“Tuesday morning, June 9.—We are again back in the woods opposite
Port Hudson, with the cannon booming around us; but first, I
will tell you a little more about our Clinton expedition. Friday
afternoon, while on picket, I had an opportunity of witnessing a
scene quite common in Louisiana,—the desertion of a plantation by
the whole body of slaves. Near the picket-post was a house, over
which a guard had been placed, when we halted the day previous, to
prevent plundering. The lady of the house, letting her temper get the
better of her judgment, abused the guard, calling them bad names,
and hoping the rebels would get the whole of them. The officer of
the guard removed his men, and the household property began rapidly
to decrease, when the lady repented, and the guard was restored.
On the return from Clinton, we halted near the same place; and the
house was again protected. There were about eight negro cabins on the
plantation; and the inmates were preparing to leave the old home.
All their worldly possessions were spread out on the floors of the
cabins, and they were selecting a little bundle of the most valuable;
for people who travel with the Nineteenth Army Corps have to go in
‘light marching order.’ One man was too old and lame to go; and he
wandered around among the busy emigrants, with a half-mournful,
half-resigned look. ‘I’m sorry we’re all gwine to leab ye, Uncle
Joe,’ said one of the men, looking up from his work; ‘but ye couldn’t
stan’ de march.’—‘No; I can’t leab,’ said Uncle Joe, sadly, as
he hobbled off to another cabin. At the door of the mansion, the
mistress, who was so rampant yesterday, was selling eggs at a great
price to Gen. Paine’s cooks.”

The march back to Port Hudson was not so fatiguing; and the regiment
again took up a position in the woods, where it remained until the
afternoon of the 13th of June, when it was removed to the edge of the
woods, near the front, ready to take part in the grand assault which
was announced to take place the next day. The army had not been idle
since the charge on the 27th of May. Guns had been put in position
along the whole line, and strong works erected to protect them; and
roadways had been worked through the ravines, so that sharpshooters
could approach within rifle-shot, under cover. But the work of the
spade was too slow; and another assault was resolved upon. The order
of advance was announced to the third division as follows: The Eighth
New Hampshire and the Fourth Wisconsin to deploy as skirmishers;
the Fourth Massachusetts, and five hundred picked men, to follow
with hand-grenades; the Thirty First Massachusetts, with bags of
cotton, to fill up the ditch; and then the three brigades of the
third division, the third brigade in the advance. This programme was
somewhat changed afterward. In regard to a charge so interesting to
the regiment, an extract from a letter written two days after, will
be allowed to tell the story:—

... “We were roused a little before midnight, and packed our
blankets, which were to be left behind. Hot coffee was served out
by the company cooks; and, with our haversacks and canteens filled,
we moved silently to the front. Many regiments were forming on the
edge of the woods; and we expected a short, sharp fight. Gen. Paine
himself thought that we should be inside the works within half an
hour, and gave orders that the wounded men were not to be removed
from the field till the battle was over. Crossing a bridge, which had
been covered with cotton to deaden the sound, we marched down a road,
enclosed by thick hedges, deployed as skirmishers on an open field,
and laid down. The centre was kept in reserve, with orders to follow
as the right and left advanced. There were two regiments in front of
us, deployed, and lying down,—the Fourth Wisconsin and the Eighth New
Hampshire, and also a detachment of men from other regiments, with
hand-grenades, to throw over the breastworks. Just behind us was the
Fifty Third Massachusetts. As soon as we laid down, our artillery
opened fire on the fortifications, throwing the shot and shell over
our heads; but some of the shells fell short, injuring our own men.

“After a brisk cannonading, Gen. Paine passed down the line in front,
his form just visible in the gray of the morning, repeating to every
‘group,’ in a clear voice, ‘As soon as I have passed the line, the
Fourth Wisconsin, the Eighth New Hampshire, and the grenadiers will
go forward to the works.’ He had scarcely reached the left of the
first line, when the Wisconsin boys sprang up with a loud cheer,
and dashed through the openings in the hedge which screened our
movements from the enemy. They were followed closely by the Eighth
and by the grenadiers. Then the general passed down our line, saying
to every company, ‘As soon as I give the word, the Thirty Eighth and
Fifty Third will go forward.’ Soon the order came, ‘Forward Thirty
Eighth and Fifty Third.’

“The first shout of our advance had been answered by a volley of
musketry; and the cries of the wounded men told us what to expect. No
one hesitated, however, and the two Massachusetts regiments pressed
through the hedge. The distance to the works was farther than we had
anticipated, and consisted of a succession of hills and ravines,
blocked up with fallen trees, scrubby bushes, and brambles. As we
passed the brow of every hill, we were exposed to a severe fire,
and our men fell thick and fast; yet the regiment kept on, for the
voice of Gen. Paine was heard, in spite of the roar of cannon and
musketry, ‘Forward Thirty Eighth. Forward Fifty Third.’ Many of the
officers had fallen; the nature of the ground rendered it impossible
to keep a line, and the four advance regiments soon became completely
mixed up. Still they moved forward until ordered to stop. A few of
the Wisconsin men reached the fortifications, and went over, where
they were immediately captured; others of them, and many of the
Eighth New Hampshire, were dead in the ditch beneath the works. The
hand-grenades had been a complete failure, and had been thrown back
by the enemy to make sad havoc in our own ranks. More than one third
of the Thirty Eighth, and one quarter of the Fifty Third, lay wounded
and dying, on the hills and in the ravines. The support did not come
up; and that voice which had inspired the whole movement was no
longer heard. Whatever chance of success there may have been at the
outset, the fall of Gen. Paine destroyed it. And now, almost without
officers, the men sought cover from the enemy’s rifles on the slopes
of the hills, and returned the fire whenever an opportunity offered.
The One Hundred and Thirty Third New York, with its brave colonel
leading, made a gallant attempt to retrieve the disasters of the
day; but the fall of Col. Currie, and the heavy fire poured into the
regiment, caused it to seek shelter. The Thirty First Massachusetts
had advanced some distance with the cotton-bags, with which they
made breastworks, and held a position in front of the fortifications
during the day, having over thirty men killed and wounded.”

Major Richardson, just returned from the hospital, and still
suffering from illness, had been obliged to leave the field, and
the command devolved upon Capt. Wyman, who, in turn, was partially
disabled by a piece of shell, which shattered his sabre, and bruised
his leg. Lieut. Holmes had been killed, and Lieuts. Spear, Russell
of Co. F, Russell of Co. D, Bullard, and Jackson, were wounded. In
all, ninety-one of the two hundred and fifty who formed in line that
morning had been killed or wounded. All day, the regiment, scattered
in groups over the field, remained beneath the scorching sun,
suffering for water, and exposed to the fire from their own batteries
in the rear, as well as from those of the enemy in front.

Water could only be procured from a few mud-holes in the ravines;
and the paths leading to them were commanded by the rebel works, the
numerous dead and wounded men in the vicinity telling how dangerous
was the attempt to reach them. For a long time, Gen. Paine, who had
been shot in the leg, remained behind a log, every attempt to carry
him off the field being the signal for a volley from the enemy,
who knew that some prominent officer must be the object of so much
solicitude.

The stretcher corps were repeatedly fired upon. Two colored men had
succeeded in getting to the extreme front with a stretcher, and were
endeavoring to take off a fallen soldier (supposed, at the time, to
belong to Co. I, of the Thirty Eighth), when they were fired upon,
and both fell wounded. One of them tried to get away, and was again
shot down; and, making a second attempt, received a third wound. But
the longest day must have an end; and darkness at length kindly came,
and hid from sight the terrible scenes of that sad Sunday. During the
evening, the few remaining officers gathered the scattered groups
together; and, about midnight, the regiment withdrew from the field,
not, however, without a parting volley from the rebels, who heard the
movement.

The day after the battle, attempts were made to recover the bodies of
those who had fallen; but, as the rebels had command of the field,
all of them could not be reached. Toward evening, members of Co. F
succeeded, after a long search among the dead men, in finding the
bodies of Sergt. Angell and Corp. Champney, and by torchlight laid
them quietly to rest under the magnolias near their quarters, beside
another of their comrades, Joseph A. Morris, whose body had been
recovered early in the day.

It would swell our sketch to an unwieldy size to record the names and
good qualities of all those fell on this day, or of the wounded who
passed weary months on hospital beds. Those who saw them know how
well they did their duty. In another place, will be found a full list
of the casualties.

CHAPTER IX.

After the Battle—Great Mail—Burial of the Dead—Remove into the
Ravines—Deserters—Fall of Vicksburg—Surrender of Port Hudson—A
Disappointment—Stores Plains—Night March to Baton Rouge—Embark for
Donaldsville—Dress-Parades—Six Months’ Pay.

On the 15th, the long-looked for mail arrived, with the letters that
had been accumulating at New Orleans for weeks; and then wounds
and sickness were momentarily forgotten in the pleasure of again
communing with those at home. The letters averaged seven or eight to
each man; and some had over a dozen; but it was sad to think how many
would be returned unopened, to strike a chill to the hearts of the
writers.

The wounded men were sent to Baton Rouge and New Orleans, and
the field-hospitals made ready for a new lot of patients; for,
notwithstanding the failure of the assault, the siege still went on.

But few of the Union dead had been brought from the field; and four
days they laid beneath that summer sun before a truce was arranged,
and the bodies buried. Previous to burial, they were placed in rows,
to the number of over a hundred; but it was impossible to recognize
them, except by some mark on their clothing, or, as was the case with
the body of Lieut. Holmes, by articles found in the pockets.

The Thirty Eighth remained in the woods until the 19th (five days),
when it was again removed to the front to support batteries,
relieving the Thirteenth Connecticut, who had excavated holes in
the side of the ravines, safe from bullets as long as the head was
kept below the crest of the hill; but a gauntlet had to be run every
time one went for water, or to the cook-houses in the woods. In the
meantime, spades were again in the ascendant; trenches had been dug
almost up to the earthworks of the enemy; and sharpshooters were
posted all through the ravines, so that it was a dangerous matter for
a rebel to raise his head above the embankment. The batteries daily
and nightly threw their missiles inside of the fortress, giving the
enemy no rest; and such an accurate range had been obtained, that
rebel guns were dismounted as soon as put in position.

Deserters came over occasionally, with stories of scarcity of food,
and that the only hope of Gen. Gardner was in outside relief;
and that if Vicksburg fell, and Grant be thus enabled to turn his
attention to Johnson, Port Hudson would fall at once. Although his
army was rapidly diminishing, by casualties and the diseases incident
to the climate and the season, Gen. Banks still pressed the siege
vigorously, encouraging the men by his presence and by appeals to
their patriotism and courage; and a storming party was organized and
drilled to take the lead in a new assault.

But stirring news was at hand, which was to crush all the hope of the
garrison in receiving help from Johnson, and leave them in the hands
of those who had toiled so hard for the prize. On the 7th of July,
the tidings of the fall of Vicksburg was received, and published
through the camps; and as it spread from regiment to regiment, till
it reached those almost directly beneath the works, one shout of
exultation arose, giving the enemy an intimation of the speedy close
of the struggle. Early on the morning of the 8th, an order from Gen.
Banks was received by all the regimental commanders, stating that
Gen. Gardner had proposed a cessation of hostilities, with a view
to settling the terms of surrender, if Gen. Banks could satisfy him
that Vicksburg had fallen. Preparations for the attack were still
to go on, but the general wished all active demonstrations to cease;
and, in a little while, flags of truce were put up, and the men, who
had been opposed to each other so long, met at the breastworks, and
carried on a brisk trade, swapping hard-tack for corn-cakes, and
exchanging tin canteens for wooden ones. The battles were discussed
freely, but perfect good-humor was maintained on both sides; and the
rebels freely passed over their corn-beer to their late antagonists.
The Fifteenth Arkansas had occupied that part of the works opposite
the post of the Thirty Eighth, and had scarcely left the front for
thirty days; and this was the second time they were to surrender, the
whole regiment having been captured at Donelson.

Gen. Gardner surrendered unconditionally, and preparations were
made to take possession at once of the fort. Two regiments from
each division were selected to go inside, and assist at the formal
surrender of the stronghold; and, in the third division, that
honor fell upon the Eighth New Hampshire and the Thirty Eighth
Massachusetts. This indorsement of their conduct by the commanding
general was especially gratifying to the regiment; but they were
not destined to see the inside of those famous works; for, on the
afternoon of the 8th, a storm came up, and the ceremonies of the
formal surrender were postponed until the next day; and, at midnight,
the regiment was called up, and sent, with the brigade, to Stores
Plains, five miles from Port Hudson, to relieve Dudley’s brigade,
which had been ordered to Donaldsonville, where the defeated army of
Taylor, having reassembled, were assuming the offensive. The regiment
remained at Stores Plains until the 11th, the complete quiet which
reigned seeming almost unnatural, so long had they been accustomed
to the almost constant discharge of cannon and musketry; and, on
the afternoon of that day, the brigade received orders to report at
Baton Rouge. All night the regiment marched, reaching the capital as
the sun arose above the housetops; and then sought shelter from the
intense heat during the day as best it could. This night-march, after
having burrowed so long in the holes at Port Hudson, told heavily on
the men; and many, who had been on duty during the whole campaign,
broke down, and fell out of the ranks.

On the 15th, the regiment embarked on transports, in company with
the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth
New York, and arrived at Donaldsonville that evening; one small boat
affording sufficient room for the three regiments. Only four or five
officers accompanied the regiment, some having been wounded, and
others having obtained furloughs to visit New Orleans and the North;
so that the regiment made rather a ludicrous appearance on parade,
with one field, one staff, and two line officers, four headless
drums, and two hundred ragged men. If the dress-parades did not
afford much satisfaction, the excellent bathing facilities did; and
all day the river was alive with men who thus sought refuge from the
intense heat which prevailed.

On the 25th, the paymaster appeared, after a six months’ absence;
and soon the regiment formed itself into an irregular triangle; one
side being composed by the line marching to the paymaster’s tent,
the other side by a long procession on their way to the sutlers,
and the base by the returning crowd on their way to their quarters,
with armfuls of cheese, gingerbread, pickles, etc. The health of the
regiment was very poor at this time, nearly every one being afflicted
with a species of scurvy sore, the consequence of an almost entire
abstinence from vegetables for so long a time; and, for some days
after the arrival of the paymaster, the army rations were hardly
touched. This state of things was, of course, very gratifying to the
sutlers, and to the numerous corn-beer and gingerbread venders, whose
stands sprung up like mushrooms, all over the town, as soon as the
troops were paid.

CHAPTER X.

Back to Baton Rouge—The Highland Road—Camp Rodman—Bivouac on
the Boulevards—A and K detailed for Provost Duty—I sent to
Plaquemine—Camp Banks—Picket Duty—Cold Weather—New Years’
Ball—Visit of Mr. Wellington—Flag-Raising—Recruits.

August 1, the regiment embarked for Baton Rouge, landed, and went
into camp near the Highland Road, just outside of the city, when
clothing was issued, and the men once more had an opportunity to
appear decently. From this time until the following February, the
history of the regiment presents no striking features; but it was far
from being idle.

On the 2d of September, a large portion of the troops at Baton Rouge
embarked for what was then supposed to be a Texan expedition; and
the Thirty Eighth was ordered out to guard the streets leading from
the levee, and prevent any of the men from leaving their command,—an
unpleasant duty at all times. A few days after, the regiment changed
camp, moving near the city, on the ground recently occupied by the
Forty Ninth Massachusetts, and calling their new location “Camp
William L. Rodman.” This camp was just outside the line of works
surrounding Baton Rouge; and, upon a threatened attack one night from
the bands of guerillas who hovered around the lines continually,
the camp was abandoned, with the tents standing, while the regiment
bivouacked on the boulevards in the city until morning; when, there
being no prospect of an engagement, it once more returned to its
quarters.

The Thirty First Massachusetts having been sent to New Orleans for
the purpose of being mounted, the Thirty Eighth removed into the
vacant camp (Camp Banks) on the 10th of December. Cos. A and K were
detailed as provost guard, and had quarters in the city, where they
were efficient in preserving order, and gave satisfaction alike to
the commander of the post and to the inhabitants of the city, who
were protected in all legitimate business, and who ever found the
men of these two companies courteous and polite when on duty, and
quiet and peaceable at all times. Co. I was stationed at Plaquemine,
a portion of the company being mounted; and, in conjunction with the
Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry, they did efficient service in guarding
that town against the incursions of the guerillas, who harassed
the few people disposed to render allegiance to the government, and
took every opportunity to capture wagon-trains, and shoot those who
ventured outside of the lines. The remaining companies picketed a
portion of the line, did guard-duty in the commissary and other
departments, and furnished men to act as clerks and orderlies, and do
other duties incident to the garrisoning of such an important post;
while a number of the officers held important positions on the staffs
of the post and brigade commanders.

No articles whatever were allowed to be taken outside of the lines
without a permit; and the pickets were instructed to use great care
in examining all parties; but it became a delicate task occasionally,
when some fair-looking dame, taking advantage of the respect ever
shown to woman by the members of the regiment, attempted to “run
the blockade.” On more than one occasion, where the suspicions were
unusually strong, a gentle shaking brought strange appendages to the
ground, to the confusion of the owner, and the amusement of the boys;
and a close examination of the seats and bottoms of vehicles often
brought to light articles not on the permits.

As the year drew to a close, the weather became cold; and, during
Christmas-week, the pickets often found the water in their canteens
frozen in the morning, and their beards white with the frost. The
citizens complained of the cold also, saying that such weather had
not been seen in Baton Rouge for twenty years, and that the Yankees
had brought their climate down with them; which may have been true,
for they had established some customs quite as uncongenial to the
South as the cold weather. It was reported that one chivalrous
citizen, after taking the oath, with the intention of supporting the
government, became so disgusted at seeing a sign hung out, stating
that doughnuts and baked beans were to be had within, that he
immediately left for some country where New England and her famous
dishes were unheard off.

The health of the regiment was remarkably good through the winter,
some companies reporting every man for duty, notwithstanding the
fact that they were on picket twice a week, exposed to all the
storms of the season; but the quarters in the camp were comfortable,
consisting of board shanties, three to four feet high at the sides,
with tent-roofs, and furnished with stoves, bunks, and stools. By
this time, the men began to consider themselves veterans, making it
a point to look out for personal conveniences; and, as a consequence,
“household stuff” accumulated, so that whenever the regiment broke
camp, they left a variety of articles, valuable in the eyes of the
contrabands.

On New Year’s, a ball took place under the direction of Co. A, then
doing provost duty in the city; but the sympathies of the people
were still with the bands of guerillas prowling about outside of
the lines, and they held themselves aloof from Union officers and
men; so that the ball was not graced by the presence of many ladies.
During the winter, J. C. Wellington, Esq., of Cambridge, who had
been commissioned by the governor of Massachusetts to visit all the
regiments from that State then in the Department of the Gulf, spent
a number of days in the camp, conforming to army life, and making
himself familiar with the condition of the regiment.

During the first week in January, the alarms occasioned by
guerillas were unusually frequent; and the regiment was under arms
several times, the pickets doubled, and preparations made to repel
an assault; but the enemy never came within musket-shot of the
breastworks, although they captured detached parties. For several
weeks, the brigade stood under arms from daylight until after
sunrise; while the pickets deployed in a skirmish-line; but the
guerillas never fulfilled their threat of dining in Baton Rouge.

Wednesday, Feb. 27, the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry raised a new flag in
their camp, celebrating the event with music and speeches, and the
Thirty Eighth were invited to be present, with other regiments. They
appeared with full ranks, to the evident gratification of the Fourth;
and from this time, the good feeling between the two regiments, which
had been partially interrupted by an unfortunate affair between a
member of the Fourth and one of the provost guards, resulting in
the death of the former, was restored. On the 3d of February, the
One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York raised a new flag, with
appropriate ceremonies, reminding the spectators of the early times
of the war, when patriotism expressed itself in bunting.

The rebels still hovered around the picket-line; and on the 8th of
February, Lieut. Williams, one of the most daring of the Wisconsin
officers, was killed just outside of the lines, several of his men
being wounded at the same time, and the detachment which accompanied
him driven back. His regiment immediately started in pursuit, and
captured several of the enemy; while the third brigade were under
arms behind the breastworks.

Feb. 7, the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth
marched to the stockade, seven or eight miles from the city;
and, on the march back, a scrub-race took place between the two
regiments,—molasses _versus_ sour-krout, as the boys called
it,—molasses coming in slightly ahead.

March 11, a number of recruits joined the regiment, for the first
time in its history; the Department of the Gulf evidently not being
in favor among the latter volunteers.

It should have been mentioned before, that the ladies of Cambridge,
during the summer, had procured a very handsome silk flag, with the
name of the regiment, and the engagements in which it had taken part,
inscribed upon it in golden letters. This flag was forwarded to Baton
Rouge, and entrusted to the care of the regiment by Major Allen, who
read a very eloquent and patriotic letter from the donors, and also
read the reply which was to be sent in the name of the regiment. Five
more battles were afterward placed upon its stripes.

CHAPTER XI.

The campaign had already opened on the Red River, with the capture
of Fort de Russy by Gen. A. J. Smith; and a batch of three hundred
prisoners had been sent to Baton Rouge, and thence to New Orleans.
The Seventh and Twenty Second Kentucky Regiments had arrived to
garrison the post; and the third brigade daily expected orders to
prepare for the field.

On the 21st of March, the ever-welcome face of the paymaster was
seen in camp, the regiment receiving two months’ pay; and the next
day, the surplus baggage was packed, the campaign coffee and sugar
bags made, the detailed men returned to their several companies,
the cartridge-boxes filled, and everything made ready to start
at a moment’s notice. The regiment had become well accustomed to
river-steamers by this time; and, as the regimental baggage had been
cut down from its former huge proportions, breaking camp was now a
comparatively easy task, consequently, there was but little delay
after reaching the levee; and at noon of the 23d, the transport left
Baton Rouge, and steamed up the river. Much interest was manifested
to see Port Hudson from the river-side; and that place, so famous
in the annals of the Thirty Eighth, was reached in time to see the
setting sun cast its rays on the glistening musket of the Corps
d’Afrique sentinel, who walked his beat on its ramparts. The regiment
had now been in front of Port Hudson, and to the rear of it, and on
all sides of it, but were never destined to enter its works.

Leaving the Mississippi, the steamer entered the Red River, and,
on the afternoon of the 24th, passed Fort de Russy, a grim-looking
structure, but now in the hands of its rightful owners; while those
two old Mississippi mud-turtles, the Benton and the Essex, lay
silently at anchor, pictures of war in repose. The country of the
Red River presents a striking contrast to that of the Mississippi.
For miles, the traveller sails on, through an almost unbroken
forest, the river taking a new turn every few yards. Occasionally a
clearing comes in sight, in the centre of which stands a dilapidated
building, apparently engaged in a perpetual conflict with the laws
of gravitation; a few cattle and long-nosed hogs, and a great many
lank dogs, roam about the apology for a garden; while groups of
flaxen-headed children peer out of the doorways. It is the country of
the poor whites, where labor is considered degrading, where education
is unknown, and where Northern enterprise has never penetrated. But
the North-western farmer boys have looked on this rich soil; the
North-western and the North-eastern lumbermen have felled the tall
trees near the river-bank; the mechanics of Massachusetts and New
York have seen the field for improved implements in husbandry and in
domestic life; and ere many years this distant Southern country will
put on a new life, and be the seat of an educated, industrious people.

The boat reached Alexandria at midnight, and, the next morning the
regiment disembarked, and went into camp three miles beyond the city.
The place was full of troops, belonging to the Thirteenth Corps, who
had been in Texas, and had marched up through the Tèche country; the
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, who had captured De Russy; the
Nineteenth Corps, a portion of whom had been in the department so
long that they had become fully acclimated; and one or two brigades
of colored troops—mostly Louisianians. The third brigade of the
second division was selected to garrison Alexandria, while the main
body of the army moved up the country toward Shreveport; and the
Thirty Eighth removed to one of the vacated camps, falling heir to
the stock of boards collected by the Western men, who were adepts in
building shanties.

April 1, the regiment again broke camp, moving nearer the centre of
the city; and as Gen. Grover, of the second division, had command
of the post at Alexandria, and the army having met with but slight
opposition in its march toward Shreveport, it was thought that
the third brigade would go no further. At Alexandria, in addition
to picket, the regiment did much fatigue duty,—lugging oats,
corn, hard-tack, etc., up the steep banks of the levee, working
nights as well as days. Beside the white and black soldiers, there
was an appendix to the army at Alexandria, consisting of a body
of gray-coated scouts, natives of this portion of the country,
acquainted with all the by-ways and the hiding-places of the rebels,
who went out and in at their pleasure, and who were looked upon
rather uneasily at times by the troops, although confidence was
placed in them by Gen. Banks.

For some days, the reports from the moving army and navy were
all favorable; the rebels were in full retreat, abandoning their
strongholds, and falling back upon Shreveport, where they were to
find Gen. Steele in their rear, and the whole trans-Mississippi
country was to fall into the hands of the Union generals. Suddenly,
there was a pause in the news; then ominous whispers of disaster;
finally a full confirmation of the ill-tidings,—Nims’s, the Chicago,
and a regular battery taken; the newly-mounted infantry regiments
defeated and demoralized; the Thirteenth corps cut to pieces,
and heavy losses in the Nineteenth; with the entire army on the
defensive. All thoughts of summer quarters in Alexandria were at an
end; and on the 12th, the regiment struck tents, marched a few miles
beyond the town, and embarked on board the Mittie Stephens, to join
the army above. The boat steamed on until midnight, when the low
state of the water, and the frequent turns in the river, rendered
it imprudent to go further; and a halt was made beside the bank, a
picket being thrown out to guard against guerillas. Starting at
daylight in the morning, the boat proceeded on her course, without
incident until noon, making rather slow progress against the current.
As usual, when on a transport, the men were scattered about the
vessel, making coffee, eating, sleeping, and reading, not a gun
loaded, the equipments and knapsacks piled up promiscuously, and the
officers all in the cabin. Every one felt as secure as if sailing up
Boston Harbor, when suddenly a gunshot was heard; and before a minute
had elapsed, a shower of bullets poured into the boat, rattling
against the smoke-pipe, smashing the cabin-windows, and whistling
by the heads of the astonished men. Taken completely by surprise,
away from their guns and equipments, and no enemy in sight, for a
few moments there was some confusion; but the men soon rallied, and
poured several volleys into the woods, although, as the boat kept on
her course, the fire was probably ineffectual.

Considering that the regiment was fully exposed, and the enemy
perfectly secure in his hiding-place, the casualties were remarkably
few. One man, sick in the cabin, and lying on a sofa, was instantly
killed, and one officer and two men wounded. Another attack was
expected at the next bend of the river, and preparations were made
to meet it; but nothing further occurred, and, within an hour or
two, the Union pickets were seen on the bank of the river, and the
steamer soon reached Grand Ecore, where the Nineteenth Army Corps was
encamped. A boat crowded with captured gray-coats lay in the stream;
and as the Mittie Stephens passed her, the Union men, feeling in bad
humor over the guerilla attack, exulted a little; but the rebels
shouted back the taunts defiantly, and pointed up the river.

The brigade being still at Alexandria, the Thirty Eighth was
temporarily assigned to the second brigade of the third division,
commanded by Brig. Gen. Birge; and during the two or three days
succeeding, the camp was twice changed again, before a proper
position was found.

CHAPTER XII.

Grand Ecore—What caused the Repulse?—Retreat through the Pine
Woods—Battle of Cane River—Rear-Guard—The Retreat continued—Arrival
at Alexandria.

The greater portion of Gen. Banks’s army was then at Grand Ecore, and
busily at work throwing up breastworks,—the pine forests furnishing
abundant logs for the purpose,—while the river was crowded with
gun-boats and transports. Of course the recent battles were the
general topics discussed, and there appeared to be as many opinions
regarding the details as there were soldiers present. The Western
officers and men laid the blame of the repulse on the Eastern
generals; the infantry charged it on the cavalry, the artillery on
the infantry support; the navy on the army. But there were a few
general facts on which all the stories agreed, and which may be
stated in the following order: 1st. The rebels having steadily fallen
back before the advance of the Union army, neither officers nor men
expected a serious opposition until the works at Shreveport were
reached, by which time it was supposed that Gen. Steele would be
ready to coöperate; consequently, the advance was taken by surprise
when they found the entire force of the enemy stopping their path.
2d. A portion of the cavalry had been but recently mounted; and
men who were excellent infantry soldiers when armed with infantry
weapons, being obliged to dismount in the woods, found their cavalry
equipments a great hindrance. 3d. This imperfect cavalry, with a few
light batteries, and a small infantry support, was separated by four
or five hours’ march from the Nineteenth Corps, with the cavalry
baggage-train well up to the front, and blocking up the road between.
4th. The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps were not within supporting
distance of the other portion of the army. These statements were made
by scores of men at the time, and are substantially embodied in the
Adjutant General’s reports of the various Massachusetts’ regiments
engaged in the expedition. Although the fall of the water in the Red
River made it necessary to retreat from Grand Ecore, the repulse at
Sabine Cross Roads was a purely military disaster,—the result of a
disposition of the forces which invited attack. Others may apportion
the blame, and say who was responsible for the lives of the men
sacrificed in this disastrous campaign; the failure did not result
from lack of courage in either the Eastern or Western portions of the
army. During the second Red River expedition, the Army of the Gulf
did not have that confidence in some of its commanders so essential
to success. The troops thought it bad enough to get the condemned
hard-tack of the Army of the Potomac, without having its condemned
generals; and Emory and Weitzel and Paine and Grover, under Gen.
Banks, were considered competent to lead them to victory as they had
done the year before.

As some relief to the disasters, all concurred in awarding great
honor to Nims’s Battery, which, with double-shotted guns, mowed down
the ranks of the advancing rebels while their ammunition lasted, and
only attempted to save themselves when their horses were shot and
there was no possibility of getting their pieces off the field. The
Nineteenth Corps, also, acted as became it, and taught the enemy,
that although repulsed, the Army of the Gulf was not demoralized;
while the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps sustained the reputation
they had acquired under Gen. Grant.

Extensive breastworks were erected at Grand Ecore, each regiment
building opposite its own line; so that the whole camp was soon
enclosed, in anticipation of an attack.

Thursday, April 16, a detail of one hundred men being called for from
the regiment, Cos. C, G, and H, were selected, and sent to guard
a transport on her passage down the river; and the next day the
regiment again changed camp. But the water was rapidly falling; it
began to be whispered that a large force was collecting on the river
below, to cut off all supplies; and the news of the defeat of Gen.
Steele was confirmed. On the 21st, marching orders were received;
and the entire army prepared to evacuate Grand Ecore, and retreat
to Alexandria. As a rapid march was expected, with the probability
of having to fight all the way down, everything superfluous was
destroyed, and blankets, overcoats, extra clothing, and relics went
to feed the flames which were rising in every direction through
the pine woods. Not a hard-tack box was left for the enemy; and
their only spoils of war consisted in the well constructed line of
breastworks surrounding the encampment.

The sick men were put on board of transports; and at five o’clock
in the afternoon, the retreat began, the Nineteenth Corps in
advance. Working its way slowly through the immense wagon-train, the
third brigade took the road through the pine woods, in which large
fires had been built to guide the men in picking their way among
the stumps. The Thirteenth Corps followed the Nineteenth; and the
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, under the command of Gen. A. J.
Smith, brought up the rear. The advance marched till four o’clock
in the morning, through woods and plains, and then went into camp,
having made over twenty-five miles; while far in the rear, the lurid
light of burning barns and mills told where the Western soldiers,
thinking of the tortures of their fifty thousand comrades in the
prisons of Virginia and Carolina, were making war with ungloved hands.

The march was continued the next day; and, in the twenty-four hours
after leaving Grand Ecore, forty miles had been travelled. But the
enemy, who had been exulting over the anticipated capture of Gen.
Banks and his entire army, were not disposed to let the prize slip
through their fingers so easily; and on the morning of the 23d of
April, as the Nineteenth Corps were marching along the banks of
Cane River, near the crossing, the rebels opened with artillery
on the advance. The infantry at once formed in line of battle, in
the road and the adjoining fields, while the light batteries were
sent to the front, followed by Gen. Banks and staff. After a brisk
cannonading with little apparent result, a body of troops, under
command of Gen. Birge, was sent across the river,—the detachment of
the third brigade, led by Col. Smith, of the One Hundred and Twenty
Eighth New York, being the first to ford the stream. Climbing up the
steep banks, the brigade entered the woods, and, marching through a
swamp, came in the rear of the enemy, when the Thirty Eighth was sent
forward in advance to skirmish, and ascertain the position of the
rebels. Moving steadily forward through woods and across open fields,
occasionally receiving a shot from a concealed enemy, the regiment
passed a narrow stream, skirmished up a thickly wooded hill, and
down its descending slope, till a rail-fence was reached, bounding
a cleared piece of ground, beyond which was another wooded bluff,
showing signs of rebel occupancy. A halt was made behind this fence,
while the reserve formed in the rear, and dismounted cavalry was sent
into the woods on the right to reconnoitre. The order “Forward” soon
came; and the Thirty Eighth, still deployed, went over the fence,
and charged the hill under a heavy fire. Thanks to Gen. Birge, the
regiment was not thrown forward unsupported. Emerging from the woods,
the Thirtieth Maine and the One Hundred and Sixty Second and the
One Hundred and Sixty Fifth New York followed the skirmishers, in a
magnificent line of battle, charging across the open field and up the
bluff, from which, after a short resistance, the rebels retreated
precipitately, leaving a portion of their dead and wounded on the
ground.

Reforming the lines, and being strongly reinforced, the column
advanced through the woods to another opening, with a hill beyond
similar to the one just taken, and where it was expected the enemy
would make a more stubborn resistance; but when the charge was made
in lines of battle, with fixed bayonets, no foe was found, and the
road to the river was clear.

That night the regiment encamped near the spot where it had crossed
in the morning; and glad enough were the men to unsling the knapsacks
which they had carried all day, and gather around the camp-fires, to
discuss the battle, while they prepared their simple supper.

The casualties had been comparatively few, the close ranks of the
support furnishing a fairer target than the skirmish-line. Capt.
Julius M. Lathrop, of Co. I, was mortally wounded, and died a few
days afterward. Capt. Lathrop had rode in an ambulance the day
previous, unable to march; but, upon the approach of an engagement,
had taken command of his company, and was leading his men when he
received the fatal shot. The regiment lost two killed and eight
wounded, the greater part of the wounded men dying during the summer.

As soon as the enemy was driven off, a pontoon bridge was thrown
across the river, and the wagon-trains and the batteries passed
over. The Nineteenth Corps had continued the march during the
night, followed by the Thirteenth Corps; and the next morning the
One Hundred and Twenty Eighth marched on, leaving the Thirty Eighth
with the Western corps, who had been engaged with the enemy in the
morning, and who reached the crossing as the rear of the other corps
left it.

An immense number of contrabands, of all ages, sizes, and colors,
came in with Gen. Smith, laden down with bundles, hastily packed up
as they deserted the plantation, and left old massa and missus to
hoe their own corn and bake their own hoecakes. Some were mounted on
mules, and some had rigged up old mule-carts, and filled them with
bags of clothes, iron pots, and babies. An artist would have found
many subjects worthy of his pencil in the quaint procession; and one
group impressed itself very vividly upon the mind of the present
writer. A woman, with an immense bundle on her head, was leading a
mule by a rope-halter, walking with as stately a tread as did ever
Cleopatra. Astride of the mule were two little children, the foremost
one holding on to a large bundle, the other clasping her companion’s
waist. The children were neatly dressed, the long fringe on their
straw hats partially shading their faces, while their eyes were
steadily fixed on their mother; and the complexion of the whole party
told of other than African blood.

The appearance of these contrabands reminded the spectator of the
exodus of the Israelites from Egypt; for, like the ancient fugitives
from slavery, these modern ones had evidently borrowed largely
from their masters and mistresses, and many a gay parasol and lace
mantle spoke of the mansion rather than the cabin. They were illy
prepared, however, with such loads, to accompany a retreating army,
closely pursued by its foes; and, either by the advice or command
of some wise officer, a sifting of their effects took place at the
crossing, and a portion of their burdens was left behind. The Western
boys rigged themselves in the cast-off bonnets and gowns, and the
Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps looked like a masquerading party as
they filed across the pontoon.

For some unexplained reason, the Thirty Eighth was detained to
support a battery, until the whole army had crossed the river, and
the pontoon was taken up, when the battery moved on, and the regiment
followed. Everything now in the rear was rebel; and the unfortunate
soldier who fell out had a fair chance of seeing Galveston via
Shreveport. The enemy followed, and had constant skirmishes with the
cavalry; but the infantry was not again engaged; and, after three
days hard marching, partly through the pine woods, the regiment
entered Alexandria on the afternoon of the 26th, and went into camp
near the place from which it had started fourteen days previously,
finding a large mail awaiting it, much to its gratification.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Fleet in Danger—Red River Dammed—Foraging Expedition—Departure
from Alexandria—Captured Mails—Battle of Mansura Plains—Scarcity of
Water—On the Old Road—Reach the Atchafalaya—Engagement in the Rear.

Although the army had thus reached Alexandria in safety, the fleet
was still above the rapids, and there appeared to be no prospect
of the river rising. The enemy were busily at work on the lower
part of the river, throwing up earthworks; and in a short time all
communication was cut off, and several transports captured, one of
which contained a large mail sent from Alexandria upon the arrival of
the army at that place.

But there were men in the Nineteenth Corps to whom obstacles only
brought increased energy; and the bold project of damming the Red
River, and thereby raising the water to a sufficient height to float
the iron-clads over the rapids, was undertaken by Lieut.-Col. Bailey
of the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry. Gen. Banks provided a great number
of negroes for this purpose; and assistance was rendered by details
from the several divisions of the army, which, in the meanwhile,
was engaged in throwing up an additional line of breastworks around
Alexandria.

The fatigue duty was very hard at this time; for, in addition to the
work of intrenching, the infantry had to unload the greater portion
of the transports, not only of the rations for its own use, but also
of the oats and corn for the cavalry, working night as well as day,
carrying heavy burdens up the steep banks of the levee, which were
made slippery by the frequent rains. While the infantry was thus at
work, the cavalry was no less actively engaged in reconnoissances;
and scarcely a day passed in which wounded men were not brought into
the town.

On the 7th of May, the Thirty Eighth and the One Hundred and
Twenty Eighth New York, accompanied by a squadron of cavalry,
marched thirteen or fourteen miles from Alexandria, as guard to a
wagon-train, which had been sent to procure forage. Scouts reported a
body of the enemy engaged in obstructing the road, and there had been
some skirmishing by the cavalry in the morning; so that the order,
“Over the levee!” caused no surprise. Like a wave rolling up a smooth
beach, the regiment swept over the embankment in an unbroken line,
and then paused to see what the matter was; but no explanation could
be given, and the march was resumed. This incident illustrated the
complete discipline existing in the regiment, and the promptitude
with which orders were obeyed. In the afternoon, the detachment
returned to camp, having marched nearly thirty miles since morning.

Lieut.-Col. Bailey had succeeded in his difficult undertaking; and,
on the 9th, the gun-boats floated over the rapids, and arrived at
Alexandria. Preparations were at once made to evacuate the town, and
march to the Mississippi; and the men worked night and day, loading
the transports with quartermaster’s stores and ammunition. At two
o’clock, on the morning of the 11th, the regiment broke camp; and,
with the brigade, began the march; but the progress of evacuation
was slow, and it was not until the 14th that the whole army was
fairly on the road. That day, the point was passed where the enemy
had blockaded the river; and near their rifle-pits were found the
remnants of the captured mails, the ground being covered with the
envelopes of the sixteen thousand letters that had fallen into their
hands. The postage-stamps, not yet defaced, had been carefully torn
off, as if the captors had a lurking suspicion that the portrait of
Washington was of more intrinsic value than that of either of the
Confederate chiefs.

Although the enemy had abandoned their position on the river, they
still continued to harass the retreating army, keeping the cavalry
constantly skirmishing; and on the afternoon of the 15th, the firing
became so rapid, that the army formed in line of battle several
times, with the expectation of an engagement. At sundown, the
musketry increased, accompanied by artillery, and the second division
of the Nineteenth Corps went through the little town of Marksville on
the double-quick, to the assistance of the cavalry, who were reported
to have been severely handled. The enemy drew off, however, and the
division bivouacked on an open plain beyond the village. Gen. Grover
performed an act of kindness that night for the regiment, which was
never forgotten. No water could be found nearer than the village, at
least half a mile distant; and while the men were debating whether
to hunt for wells in the dark, or to lie down parched with thirst,
the cavalry body-guard of Gen. Grover rode into the camp, with
instructions from the general to take all the canteens of the Thirty
Eighth, fill them, and bring them back; which they proceeded to do.

The morning was ushered in by discharges of artillery at the front;
and the division moved forward in line of battle across the Plains
of Mansura. In the absence of Col. Sharpe, the command of the third
brigade devolved upon Col. Smith of the One Hundred and Twenty
Eighth New York; but that brave officer being disabled, Lieut.-Col.
Richardson, at the approach of an engagement, left the ambulance in
which he had been obliged to perform the greater part of the march,
put himself at the head of the brigade, and manœuvred it over the
field of battle as coolly, and with as much skill, as when on the
parade-ground at Camp Kearney, leaving the Thirty Eighth under the
command of Capt. Wyman, who was never known to flinch in battle.

The advance of the Nineteenth Army Corps across the Plains of Mansura
on the 16th of May, was the finest military spectacle seen in the
Department of the Gulf during the war. The batteries at the front,
enveloped in smoke; the infantry moving steadily up in lines of
battle, division, brigade, and regimental flags easily distinguished;
the cavalry on the flanks, impatiently waiting an opportunity to
charge; with the long lines of ambulances and wagons in the rear,—all
of which could be taken in at a glance,—stamped itself on the memory
of those present with a vividness never to be forgotten.

As the lines moved forward, the enemy fell back, his fire gradually
slackening, until it finally ceased, and he retreated by one of the
roads branching off into the interior. The infantry had not come
within musket-shot during this engagement; and although the shot and
shell from the rebel batteries fell all over the field,—one huge
mass of iron falling a few feet in front of Co. H,—there were no
casualties in the regiment. But the whole corps suffered severely
from the want of water, being obliged to quench their thirst in
mud-holes from which the hogs had to be driven, and which was more
than lukewarm.

Continuing the march, in the afternoon a belt of woods was reached,
with a clear bayou running through it, at the sight of which one
glad cry broke from the ranks, and the brigade rushed eagerly to its
banks. A halt was made beside this stream, until the men had fully
quenched their thirst, and rested; then emerging from the woods,
the old Semmesport Road came in sight, over which the army had
marched the year before; and, as the regiment passed by the familiar
sugar-houses and plantations, sad memories rushed to the mind, of
comrades who had then shared the toils and pleasures of the march,
now done forever with life’s battles.

The army went into camp a mile beyond the resting-place of the
previous year; and the next morning, after a march of eight miles
reached the Atchafalaya, where a large number of transports and
gun-boats were collected. Although the enemy had withdrawn from the
front, he still hung in the rear; and on the 18th, an engagement took
place, when the enemy were driven back by Gen. Mower, in command
of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, assisted by the cavalry
division. The Third and Sixth Massachusetts Cavalry made several
brilliant charges in the action, did effective service, and lost a
number of men.

CHAPTER XIV.

Cross the Atchafalaya—The Fleet and Army part
Company.—Morganza—Saw-mill Expedition—Up the River—Embark for
Algiers—Serenade the Lieutenant-colonel—Good-by to Louisiana.

On the 18th, the Nineteenth Corps crossed the Atchafalaya, near which
it remained, merely changing camp several times, until the 20th; and
on the evening of that day, the entire naval and military force left
Semmesport for the Mississippi. The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps
were on the transports, on their return to the department from which
they had been borrowed; while the Thirteenth and Nineteenth Corps,
with the cavalry, were to continue the march through the country.

At the junction of the Atchafalaya and the Red Rivers the main army
and the navy separated. The sun was setting as the long procession
of river-boats, gun-boats, and monitors swept around the bend of the
river; and a feeling of loneliness fell on the army as it turned
inland, and took the course for the Mississippi.

The previous year, the country was everywhere flooded, and the
water-mark could now be seen on the houses and trees; but the summer
of 1864 was a dry one, and the roads in good condition to march. At
midnight, the army went into camp; and the day following reached the
banks of the Mississippi, at Morganza Bend, after one of the most
fatiguing marches the regiment had ever experienced. After a great
deal of manœuvring on the evening of the 21st and the forenoon of
the following day, the division finally encamped on the sandy plain
between the new levee and the river, where it quietly remained,
recovering from the fatigue of the march, until the morning of the
30th, when the third brigade of the second division, and a portion of
the Thirteenth corps, with cavalry and artillery, left the camp and
took the road to the Atchafalaya.

The column marched until 10 A. M., halted during the heat of the day,
and started again at 8 P. M. As night came on, the road became poor,
and marching difficult; but no danger was evidently anticipated by
the commanding officer, for the usual precaution, when in an enemy’s
country, of throwing out flankers, was dispensed with. Suddenly,
from a thickly wooded hill on the left, across a bayou, a volley
of musketry broke upon the stillness of the night, taking effect in
the Twenty Second Iowa, in advance of the Thirty Eighth. “Ambushed!”
was the thought of all, as the ranks closed up, and formed in line
of battle in good order. A battery sent a shell into the woods from
whence the discharge had come; but there was no response; and, after
remaining in line for a short time, the column moved forward, but had
scarcely started when another volley came from the woods, this time
directed against the regiments in the rear. The echoes had not died
away, when a sheet of flame flashed along the line of the One Hundred
and Fifty Sixth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth, followed by a
crashing report.

Nothing more was heard from the enemy; and as soon as a bridge was
reached, the Thirty Eighth was sent across the bayou, to act as
“flankers.” The darkness could almost be felt; and as the men groped
their way through the woods, falling into holes, tumbling over
stumps, and occasionally running into a thorn-tree, with a lurking
suspicion all the time, which was afterward confirmed, that the main
army did not know of their presence across the stream, and that the
accidental discharge of a rifle would be the signal for a murderous
volley from their friends, it will not be wondered at that respect
for those in command was, for the time being, lost, and that officers
and men alike were disgusted at the incompetency shown. It is
needless to say that Gen. Emory was not with the expedition.

After a mile or two of this stumbling work, the column halted, it
being then midnight, and “bivouacked in rear of the stacks.” One
officer in the Twenty Second Iowa had been killed, and several men in
the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth and One Hundred and Seventy Fifth New
York, wounded, by the fire of the guerillas; and it was reported that
a number of the enemy had been killed by the heavy volley of the two
latter regiments. Several parties living near the spot were arrested,
but their fate was never made known.

In the morning, the command retraced its steps, and marched back, to
the resting-place of the day previous, where it remained during the
night, getting the benefit of a summer rain. The next day, June 1,
the expedition again marched toward the Atchafalaya, and remained
in reserve a short distance from that river while the Seventh
Massachusetts Battery shelled a saw-mill on the opposite side,
destroying its machinery, and rendering it useless. Another night
was spent in the vicinity, and on the morning of the 2d the command
marched back to camp, glad that the “saw-mill expedition” was over.

Nothing further transpired until the 6th of the month, when the
paymaster arrived, and the division received four months’ pay, to
its own satisfaction and to the great profit of the sutlers, who
gathered as turkey-buzzards to a feast. With the exception of several
reviews, for the gratification of travelling generals, the regiment
remained in camp, sending out a picket every day, and drilling in the
morning, until June 19, when it embarked on the steamer Starlight,
and proceeded up the river as far as Fort Adams, in the State of
Mississippi, the guerillas having made their appearance in that
vicinity. This excursion was a pleasant one, the regiment bivouacking
under the trees on the bank of the river during the day, and retiring
on board the transport when the mosquitoes became troublesome at
night. No enemy being discovered, the troops returned to Morganza on
the 21st, and occupied their old camps.

From this time until the 1st of July, about all the volunteer labor
performed by the men consisted in writing the two words “very hot”
in their diaries, although there was some involuntary work, such as
corps reviews, inspections, etc., with the thermometer up to 100°
in the shade, and the sand blistering to the feet; while the picket
had a nightly contest with the mosquitoes,—Louisiana mosquitoes,
be it remembered. On the 1st of July, the Sixth Massachusetts
Cavalry (formerly the Thirty First Infantry) passed by Morganza in
a transport, on their way home on furlough, having re-enlisted; and
the Thirty Eighth formed in line on the river-bank, and gave them a
farewell cheer.

The camp as usual was full of rumors with regard to future movements;
and one day the brigade would be going to Texas; then to New
Orleans to do provost duty; then they were to be transformed into
marines, and patrol the river on steamboats; again, Col. Ingraham
had procured a “soft thing for the regiment in Washington.” On the
3d of June, however, the brigade, now increased by the addition of
the One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New York, embarked on board of
the City of Memphis, and the next day (July 4), landed at Algiers,
and went into camp, where it remained until the 20th. On the march
to Morganza, for some frivolous pretext, the brigade commander, who
was disliked by the entire brigade, had put the lieutenant-colonel
of the Thirty Eighth under arrest. The charges were investigated by
a court-martial, and Lieut.-Col. Richardson was honorably acquitted
and restored to his command. The entire absence, in this officer,
of that pomp assumed by many of the Eastern officers, and which was
seldom found in the Western regiments, together with his desire to
make the duties of the rank and file as agreeable as was compatible
with good discipline, and his superior military acquirements, had won
the attachment of the regiment; and, upon his being restored to the
command, the men procured a band, and serenaded him in his quarters,
to which he replied in a neat speech.

The regiment remained at Algiers, trying to keep cool during the
day, and fighting mosquitoes at night, until the 20th of July, when
it took passage on the Karnack, with two companies of the Thirteenth
Connecticut, and squads belonging to other regiments, and, bidding
good-by to the Mississippi, was once more on the blue water.
Fortunate was it for the Thirty Eighth that no storms disturbed the
Atlantic during this passage, or their history would have had a
sudden termination; for the vessel on which they embarked was old,
and had been on the Florida reefs the previous voyage; the crew
scarcely knew one rope from another, and their officers knew very
little more; the troops were packed so close, above deck and below,
that there was barely room to turn over; the cooks, even by working
all night, could not supply the men with half rations; and there was
no protection whatever from the sun or the rain.

CHAPTER XV.

Arrival at Fortress Monroe—Washington—Georgetown Heights—Monocacy
Junction—Up and down the Valley of the Shenandoah—Battle of Opequan
Creek.

On the eighth day after crossing the bar off the Mississippi, the
ship reached Fortress Monroe, where Lieut.-Colonel Richardson
received orders to proceed to Washington immediately. Entering the
Potomac, the men realized that they were no longer on Louisiana
waters; the hills stretching up from the river, the hay and grain
fields just reaped, and the scattering farm-houses, being in striking
contrast to the low banks of the Mississippi, with its plantations,
its negro cabins, its orange-trees, and its alligators.

The steamer came to anchor off Alexandria; and was subsequently towed
up to a wharf in Washington, the regiment remaining on board till
morning, when it landed and marched through the city to Georgetown
Heights. While resting on the sidewalk in Pennsylvania Avenue, the
regiment received a visit from Col. Ingraham, who appeared glad to
see the boys, and who must have been struck with the great change in
the appearance of his old command since he had last seen it.

All summer, the troops in Louisiana had been obliged to drink warm,
dirty water, from rivers, bayous, and mud-holes; and when, upon
arriving at Georgetown Heights, two cool, delicious springs were
found bubbling out of the rocks, the satisfaction was unbounded, and
many men lingered around them as if attracted by some fairy spell.

The stay in Georgetown was a short one. On Sunday afternoon, July 31,
the regiment broke camp, and again marched through Washington, to the
Baltimore depot. The closed stores, the crowd of church-going folks
on the sidewalks, and the absence of vehicles in the streets, told
the men of the Thirty Eighth that they were once more in a land where
the Sabbath was outwardly observed, at least. A brief extract from a
letter written a day or two after the march through Washington will
give an idea of the interest which the arrival of troops at that time
excited.

“.... There was an interest and a curiosity manifested by the
citizens never exhibited in New Orleans. In that city, regiments
might march through the streets from morning till night, and no
one would think of asking who they were, or where they came from.
In Washington, on the contrary, the questions put to us were quite
numerous. The deep color burnt into our faces by the Louisiana sun
told plainly that we were no militia men, even if our marching
and general appearance did not show it; and so the first question
was, ‘What corps do you belong to?’ ‘The Nineteenth.’ ‘Oh, Banks’s
men.’ And the inquirers generally appeared to be pleased at the
information. A general surprise was shown at the smallness of the
regiment; and one man asked me, ‘What company is that?’ ‘_Company!_’
said I, ‘That’s the Thirty Eighth Massachusetts _regiment_.’ ‘Where’s
the rest of them?’ ‘A good many were buried in Louisiana.’ ‘Oh, you
belong to the Nineteenth Corps.’ I expected, before we got through
Washington, to be asked what _squad_ we were.”

It must be remembered that the enemy then threatened Washington by
way of Harper’s Ferry, and the arrival of the Nineteenth Corps was a
great relief to their fears, although the regiments appeared small,
accustomed as they were to the arrival of new regiments with full
ranks.

After a supper at the “Soldier’s Rest,” the regiment took the cars
about eight o’clock, and reached Monocacy Junction a little before
noon the next day, going into camp in a reaped grain-field, near
the still smoking ruins of the depot, and in the vicinity of the
battle-field of Monocacy, where the first division of the corps was
then in camp.

No movement took place until the 4th of August, when the cars were
again taken, and, in company with the Third Massachusetts Cavalry,
which had been dismounted, the regiment rode to Harper’s Ferry,
bivouacking for the night on the heights overlooking the town.

August 6th, the army broke camp, and marched to Halltown, four
miles beyond Harper’s Ferry, where the Thirty Eighth was attached
to the first brigade of the second division, then in command of
Col. McCauley, of the Eleventh Indiana. On the 10th, the whole
force, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, under Gen. Sheridan, moved
forward in pursuit of the enemy, the cavalry skirmishing with their
rear-guard; and, on the night of the 12th, the regiment went into
camp a few miles beyond Middletown, near Cedar Creek.

The men of the Nineteenth Corps, who had been worn out by the Red
River campaign, who had regained but a small portion of their
strength while encamped on the banks of the Mississippi under the
burning sun, and who had been packed almost as close as slaves on the
transports, began this new campaign under unfavorable circumstances.
Unlike the level plains of Louisiana, the marching in this portion
of Virginia was over hills and through valleys, and the summer heat
was still intense; but the clear, cold springs all through the valley
were a luxury the Thirty Eighth was unaccustomed to, and men lingered
around them, drinking again and again.

The army remained at Cedar Creek until near midnight of the 15th,
when, in danger of being flanked by the enemy, the whole command
fell back toward Winchester, the Thirty Eighth going into camp at
Milltown, where they remained during the day. The reveillé was beaten
at one o’clock, A. M. of the 17th, and passing through Winchester,
the regiment reached Berryville at noon, and went into camp.

Thursday, the 18th, opened with a rain-storm; but the weather seldom
interfered with Gen. Sheridan’s operations, and the army still fell
back, encamping at night in the vicinity of Charlestown, where the
Thirty Eighth remained until the 20th, when, in pursuance of orders,
it changed camp, and rejoined the third brigade, which had just
arrived in the Valley under the command of Col. Sharpe.

Sunday, Aug. 21, orders came to pack up; and the regiment formed
in line of battle, stacked arms, and threw up breastworks, heavy
skirmishing going on at the front; but, during the evening, again
fell back, passed through Charlestown, and reached Halltown at one P.
M., of the 23d, going into camp for the night. During a heavy rain,
the next day the regiment built more breastworks, and then moved to
the left; but returned on the day following, and remained in camp
until Sunday, the 28th, when the army again assumed the offensive,
and advanced to Summit Point, a few miles beyond Charlestown. While
these movements were being executed, skirmishing between the advance
of one army and the rear of the other was continually going on, and
the cavalry were almost constantly in the saddle.

On the 3d of September, the army again broke camp, and marched to
Berryville, where a sharp encounter took place between a portion
of the Eighth Corps and Early’s force; but the enemy retiring, the
engagement did not become general. The third brigade, however, formed
in line of battle, took up a position on a ledge of rocks, and
remained there all night, sending out two companies as skirmishers.
Every one was wet through, and the wind swept coldly over the ledge.

Sunday, Sept. 4, the regiment was detached from the brigade, and
marched further to the front, where new breastworks were thrown up,
the rain still continuing; the enemy, all the while, shelling the
line, and skirmishing constantly going on. During the next fortnight,
but little worthy of mention transpired, except that the army here
completed a third line of breastworks.

On the 14th, a detail was sent from each company to procure the
blankets belonging to the men in the regiment, which had been packed
at Baton Rouge previous to the Red River campaign, and which were
then supposed to be at Harper’s Ferry; but upon the arrival of the
detail at that place, it was found that the boxes had been sent to
Washington, and the blankets were not received until late in October.
When the weather permitted, company, battalion, and brigade drills
took place while the regiment was encamped in this place.

Although Gen. Sheridan kept his own counsels, he was not deceived in
regard to the movements of Early. At three o’clock, on the morning of
the 19th of September, the reveillé was beaten in the camps, and the
army marched through Berryville, the Nineteenth Corps halting beyond,
and being informed that they would probably fight on that spot. At
this time, heavy cannonading was heard on the right, and at the
front, where the cavalry was engaged. After halting an hour or two,
the Nineteenth Corps advanced by the flank, passing a hospital into
which great numbers of wounded men were being brought, who had fallen
when the cavalry drove the enemy from the woods on each side of the
Winchester Pike. Passing through a defile, the brigade came upon a
high table-land, and formed in line of battle on the edge of a belt
of woods between the opposing forces, the third brigade being at this
time on the extreme left of the Nineteenth Corps, and connecting with
the Sixth Corps. Each regiment sent out skirmishers, who advanced
into the woods, followed by the brigade in line of battle; and
emerging on to an open plain, which was crossed at a rapid pace, the
enemy were encountered in the woods beyond, and the battle became hot.

The brigade had advanced too fast, leaving its right flank exposed;
and, unable to withstand the heavy fire concentrated upon it, the
Thirty Eighth fell back, having lost many officers and men. At one
time, the battle-flag was within a few yards of the banner of a rebel
regiment, and its capture seemed imminent; but color-sergeant Lunt,
supported by color-corporal Abbot, bravely carried it through. Col.
Sharpe and Lieut.-Col. Richardson had been wounded; and the command
of the brigade devolved upon Lieut.-Col. Neafie, of the One Hundred
and Fifty Sixth New York, Maj. Allen taking command of the Thirty
Eighth.

The regiment, as usual, had gone into battle with few officers.
Lieuts. Whitney and Davis, and Sergt. Palmer, in command of
companies, had been shot down, with many warrant officers, and many
men; and in the retreat, owing to this fact, and to the nature of the
ground, the regiment became separated from the brigade, which had
been partially broken up by the impetuosity of the first charge. The
men, however, rallied around the colors; and, under the lead of Major
Allen and Adjutant Wellington, again sought the front of the fight.

After a desperate struggle, the enemy broke; and, having formed his
army in three crescent-shaped lines of battle, Gen. Sheridan gave
the order, “Forward!” Before that victorious charge, the veterans
of Stonewall Jackson fled in confusion, the whole rebel force
went “whirling through Winchester,” and the Union army remained in
possession of the hard-fought field.

The cavalry followed the retreating enemy, and gathered up the spoils
of the victory; but the infantry went into camp on the outskirts of
Winchester, and rested from the labor and excitement of the day,
while the great news was silently speeding its way North to electrify
and gladden the loyal hearts of the country. The Valley of the
Shenandoah was no longer to recall memories of defeat and humiliation
alone.

The loss in the regiment had been eight killed, thirty-eight wounded,
eight prisoners, and one missing. A number afterward died from the
effects of the wounds received; but those captured were remarkably
fortunate, the majority of them being paroled in a few days, and sent
to Annapolis.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Pursuit—Congratulatory Order—Fisher’s Hill—Gen.
Emory—Mount Jackson—Mount Crawford—Cedar Creek—Build
Breastworks—Surprise—Battle of Cedar Creek—Fall back to
Kearnstown—Martinsburg—Thanksgiving.

The battle was won, and now came the pursuit. Col. McCauley assumed
the command of the third brigade, which broke camp at daylight of
the 20th, and began the march up the Valley, reaching Strasburg in
the evening. The next day, congratulatory orders from the President
and Gen. Grant were read to the troops; and in the afternoon,
the regiment changed camp, and took a new position on the hills
overlooking Strasburg. The enemy were strongly entrenched on Fisher’s
hill, in a position considered almost impregnable; but they were
not allowed to remain in undisturbed possession long. At daylight,
on the 22d, the Nineteenth Corps moved up in front, and constructed
breastworks, driving in the rebel skirmishers from their rifle-pits.
The Eighth Corps, passing up the north side of the mountain, took the
enemy completely by surprise, while the Nineteenth Corps charging
in front, in three lines of battle, cheered on by Sheridan, drove
them in confusion from their strongholds. It was near night, when the
rebels fled; and the pursuit was kept up till morning, when Woodstock
was reached.

In the heat of the pursuit, the advance forces were fired into by an
ambush, and one man instantly killed. Some confusion ensuing, Gen.
Emory rode up, and inquired what regiment it was. “Thirty Eighth,”
was the reply. “Just the regiment I want,” said the old veteran; and
he immediately formed the regiment in line of battle across the pike.

Soon after, it was sent forward to skirmish, and marched in that
manner during the night, reaching Woodstock in the morning, and
remained there till noon. Continuing the march, the brigade went
into camp at night beyond the beautiful little town of Edenburg. The
next day’s march (in column by brigade) was a fatiguing one, the
Nineteenth Corps being obliged to make a flank movement at Mount
Jackson, to drive the rebels from a thickly wooded hill beyond the
Shenandoah River; and upon going into camp beyond Newmarket, the
rear-guard of the retreating enemy was in sight.

On Sunday, 25th, the brigade reached Harrisonburg, which was then
full of wounded rebels, and remained quietly in camp until the 29th,
when the Nineteenth Corps and one division of the Sixth Corps marched
to Mount Crawford to support a cavalry movement, the Thirty Eighth
acting as flankers, and being detailed at night as picket. The next
day, the entire force moved back to Harrisonburg, having destroyed a
great number of barns and mills.

During this march up the Valley, rations were often short, the
supply-trains not being able to keep up; and the army was obliged to
live partly on the country. The fine apples were especially prized
after the long abstinence from vegetables and fruit; and the premium
sheep afforded rich repasts to the hungry boys, who seldom stopped
to inquire whether they were of the long or short wool species.
Indeed, some of the city boys of the Thirty Eighth were not adepts
in agricultural matters, or one of them would not have approached a
“lord of the herd” with a coaxing “So, mooly; so, mooly,” his dipper
carefully concealed behind him.

Remaining at Harrisonburg until Oct. 6th, on that day the regiment
marched to Newmarket, making eighteen miles, and, on the day
following, had a still harder march of twenty-two miles. Still
falling back, on the 8th Flint Hill was reached, where there was
much suffering from the cold. On the 10th, after hearing orders from
Gen. Sheridan, announcing a large capture of artillery, wagons,
ambulances, and prisoners from Early, the army moved back to Cedar
Creek, and again constructed breastworks. An engagement took place
on the 14th, between a brigade of the Eighth Corps and a portion
of Early’s troops, in which the Thirty Fourth Massachusetts lost
heavily, Col. Wells, in command of the brigade, being killed.

On the evening of the 18th, the third brigade received orders to be
in readiness in the morning for a reconnoissance, and were in line
before daylight for that purpose, when a sudden crash of musketry on
the left, where the Eighth Corps were encamped, gave intimation of
an attack. The brigade was ordered to the breastworks immediately,
and men sent forward to the creek, at the base of the hill, to give
notice of the approach of the enemy. No attack was made in front;
but, on the left, having flanked the Eighth Corps, and driven it
back in confusion, the rebels fell upon the Nineteenth, of which
the third brigade of the second division was the extreme left, the
Thirty Eighth being on the right of the brigade. Exposed to a severe
cross-fire, the brigade-commander, Col. McCauley, being wounded, and
the victorious rebels sweeping all before them, the regiment fell
back, passed through the camp, and joined in the retreat. At this
time the battle seemed lost, and all the manœuvring in the Valley
for the past two months thrown away; but the enemy failed to follow
up his advantage promptly; and the Union army, recovering from the
confusion into which it had been thrown by the suddenness of the
attack, reformed its scattered ranks, and disputed the further
advance of the rebels, when the arrival of Gen. Sheridan on the
ground at noon, put a new face upon matters. The army was no longer
without a leader. A temporary breastwork of rails was thrown up,
behind which the rebel advance was awaited; and, as they drew near,
a terrific volley of musketry staggered and repulsed them. The
tide was turning. Riding over the field, showing himself to every
regiment, and everywhere received with enthusiasm, the presence of a
master-spirit was at once felt; and when the proper time came, and
the order was given to charge, the army advanced with a power that
crushed all resistance. The cavalry dashed into the broken ranks of
the fleeing enemy, capturing them by hundreds, while the infantry
pressed on eagerly toward the camps they had left in the morning.
In this final charge, for almost the first time in its history, the
regiment was in the second line of battle.

Back over the battle-ground where they had triumphed all day, over
the Union breastworks, and beyond Cedar Creek, in one confused mass,
the discomfited rebels fled, abandoning guns, wagons, rations,
and even the plunder of the Union camps; while the victors took
possession of their recovered quarters.

“Up from the south at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

“And wilder still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon’s bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

“But there is a road from Winchester town—
A good, broad highway leading down;
And there, through the flush of the morning light,
A steed, black as the steeds of night,
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight.
As if he knew the terrible need,
He stretched away with his utmost speed:
Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

“Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
With Sheridan only ten miles away.

“Under his spurning feet, the road,
Like a narrow Alpine river, flowed;
And the landscape sped away behind,
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire;
But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire,—
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

“The first that the General saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops.
What was done—what to do—a glance told him both;
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril’s play,
He seemed to the whole great army to say:
‘I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester down to save the day!’

“Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!
Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky,—
The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,—
There, with the glorious General’s name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:
‘Here is the steed that saved the day,
By carrying Sheridan into the fight,
From Winchester,—twenty miles away!’”

The men had lost everything not on their persons,—clothing, blankets,
likenesses of friends, letters, journals of the two years’ service,
and mementos of the Louisiana campaigns; and, worse than all, over
thirty of their comrades were on their way to torture and starvation
in Salisbury or the Libby. Leaving the cavalry to pursue the flying
enemy, the infantry, cold and hungry, bivouacked for the night on
their old camp-grounds. In the morning, the army moved two miles
toward Strasburg, and remained there until the 21st, when the second
division returned to Cedar Creek.

Congratulatory orders from the President to Gen. Sheridan were read
to the troops on the 24th; and, on the 26th, the ever-welcome face
of the paymaster appeared in camp. The Cambridge companies were
gratified, on the 30th, by a visit from Mr. Wellington, who, as
usual, brought many articles for the comfort of the men. With the
exception of a corps review by Gens. Sheridan, Wright, Cook, and
Emory, on the 7th of November, nothing of importance transpired
until the 9th, when the army fell back to Kearnstown, and went
into quarters between that village and Winchester (Camp Russell),
where heavy breastworks were thrown up. The enemy had not yet left
the Valley. On the evening of the 10th, the wagons were packed in
anticipation of an attack; and there was lively skirmishing at
the front during the next day; but, the enemy did not appear in
force, and Powell’s cavalry by a bold dash, made a large capture of
prisoners and munitions of war.

Monday afternoon, Nov. 14, the regiment broke camp, and marched to
Winchester; and, on the following morning started for Martinsburg,
as guard to a supply-train, making the entire distance, twenty-two
miles, before night. Leaving Martinsburg on the 19th, the regiment
returned to camp near Winchester, and resumed camp duties.

The picket duty at Camp Russell was very severe, especially as
the weather grew cold. No fires were allowed at night; a vidette
was thrown out from every post; and, at daybreak, the picket-line
deployed, and remained so until sunrise. At the same time, every
regiment stood in line of battle behind the breastworks.

Thanksgiving Day, the regiment received a portion of the poultry sent
from the North for the soldiers; and, by clubbing together, nearly
all the messes had a tolerable soup. A real Thanksgiving, however,
arrived from Cambridge on the 27th; and then Cos. A, B, and F had
turkeys and chickens and puddings in abundance. If the kind friends
at home could have looked into those little tents at Camp Russell, at
that time, they would have considered themselves repaid for all their
trouble.

CHAPTER XVII.

Preparations for Winter—Log-huts—Break Camp—Winchester—Provost
Duty—Baltimore—The Stables—Visit of Rev Dr. Ware—Extracts from
Letters.

Preparations now began to be made for passing the winter at Camp
Russell. The shelter-tents afforded poor protection against the
snow-storms, which were becoming frequent, and boards were scarce;
so, in every camp, log-villages arose, many of them far neater in
appearance than the tenements in which families of poor whites had
been reared on the banks of the Red River.

The regiment was putting up its last row of huts, when a sudden stop
was put to all further work, by the reception, on the afternoon of
the 20th, of marching orders; and before daylight the next morning,
in the midst of a driving storm, the third brigade broke camp, and
marched to Winchester, where the Thirty Eighth was selected to do
provost duty, and quartered in deserted buildings in the vicinity of
the Court House. A portion of the duty here consisted in guarding
the rebel prisoners brought in by the cavalry, and in taking squads
of them to Harper’s Ferry.

The people in Winchester, and all through the Valley, were bitter
foes to the Union, giving constant information to the enemy of all
military movements; and many of the prominent citizens had been sent
to Fort Henry, in Baltimore. The women adhered to the Confederate
cause with a tenacity that could not but win respect, and daily
brought baskets of food to the captured rebels. One day, it was the
duty of the writer to notify the citizens to have the snow taken off
their sidewalks within a certain specified time,—not a very pleasant
task considering that the majority of the houses were tenanted by
females. Some quietly said it should be done; others were not so
tractable. One fair dame said, in a rich Virginia accent, that we
had taken all the men off, and that she would see us “durn’d” before
she’d shovel snow: she’d “go to the gurd-house first.” Fortunately, a
“right smart rain” that night did the work, and saved the dignity of
the fair ones.

The provost duty at Winchester was of short duration. Marching orders
were received on the 5th of January; and before daylight the next
morning, the regiment was groping its way through the silent streets
to the outskirts of the town, where it awaited the arrival of the
brigade, under command of Lieut.-Col. Richardson, who had recovered
from his wound, and returned to duty a few days previously.

The railroad terminated at Stephenson’s station, five miles from
Winchester, and upon reaching that place, the brigade was obliged
to wait several hours in a cold rain-storm while the train was made
up, when, packed close in cattle-cars and on them, the division
again brought together, rode to Baltimore, reaching that city on the
morning of the 7th. The journey had been an uncomfortable one, those
on the outside being exposed all night to the storm, while the men
were packed so close inside that holes had to be cut in the cars to
let in fresh air.

Upon arriving at Baltimore, the division quartered in the cavalry
stables at Camp Carroll, near the old camp, Emory, from which the
regiment had departed over two years before. The weather was cold,
the boards were partly off the buildings, and the only way to keep
comfortable was by building large fires in the centre of the stable,
the smoke from which found its way in time through the crevices in
the roof. The Twenty Second Iowa occupied one side of the stable;
and when the two regiments were frying pork over dozens of fires up
and down the length of the building, it required strong lungs to
stand the smoke and smell. Nevertheless, one Boston lady, Mrs. James
H. Norris, an agent of the Christian Commission, learning that a
Massachusetts regiment was in Baltimore, found it out, braved the
unpleasant surroundings, and delivered mittens, socks, needle-books,
etc., not only to those who needed them in the Thirty Eighth, but
also to the Iowa boys. The regiment also had the pleasure of a visit
from an old friend, the Rev. Dr. Ware, formerly of Cambridge, then
pastor of a church in Baltimore, who had once made a visit to Camp
Emory, and who now came loaded with packages of tobacco, stationery,
and other articles acceptable to soldiers who had been months without
pay. The doctor distributed his treasures not only to the Thirty
Eighth, but to the Iowa boys on the opposite side of the stable.
Dr. Ware repeated his visit, and gave an account of the impressions
he received in two letters to the “Cambridge Chronicle,” which were
perused with much pleasure by the men of the Thirty Eighth.

The following extracts from these interesting letters will give the
reader a view of the regiment from the “outside”:—

“.... It was a clear, cold Sunday,—a day like the finest of our New
England winter days, and a walk of some three miles brought me to
the camp. What memories it awoke! Not three years ago, close by,
lay encamped the Thirty Eighth, on the crest of a hill, surrounded
by other regiments of the same brigade. Everything about war was
new then, and I well remember how clean and neat the whole camp
was, and with what pains every man rubbed his buttons, and blacked
his boots, and brushed his coat, and kept his gun.

“I remember, too, the admirable drills, the perfect dress-parade,
in such marked contrast with all the regiments about. I remember
a brigade review, in which I stood a delighted listener to the
praises heaped upon the Thirty Eighth, by New York officers not on
duty. The last time I saw Col. Rodman—the friend of many years, who
fell before Port Hudson—was there at evening parade. I see his fine
form before me now. I recall his pride in the appearance of his
men,—how we lingered and chatted after the parade was over,—how we
parted at the camp lines,—neither he, nor many others then there in
life and hope, to come back to their homes again.

“All this and more was in my mind as I walked up and down the camp
of —— thousand men, asking for the Mass. Thirty Eighth in vain.
Chancing to remember that regimental numbers are not apt to be
known beyond the regiment, I asked for the Third brigade, and at
last was told that in a certain long barn I should find the Thirty
Eighth, on the right hand side,—the left being occupied by some
other regiment. I remembered the stable as belonging to the cavalry
of Emory’s brigade two years and a half ago. It was made of rough
boards, which probably never had matched, and the wind and wet,
the cold and heat of the months since had not drawn them any more
closely together. As I entered, the sight was one of which those
at home can form no conception. All down the long centre of the
building, at company intervals, were circular piles of logs, around
which men were grouped as thick as they could sit, some chatting,
some singing, some eating, some silent. On either side were others
taking their supper, sitting or lying on the ground, or writing
letters; while in grand promiscuousness, blankets, cups, plates,
knapsacks lay about everywhere. You could scarcely keep your eyes
open for the smoke, which these old campaigners did not seem to
notice. And here was what was left of the Thirty Eighth,—not
spruce and nice as when I last saw them, but thinned by battle and
disease, four hundred and seventy out of a thousand,—and now, just
from a journey of fearful exposure and cold, bearing signs of the
life they had led since we parted.

“.... I recognized some; more recognized me, and I hope they
enjoyed the meeting as much as I did. How I wished the home folk
could be there! It would have made their hearts ache a little to
see how without the shadow of a comfort these men were, while they
would have glowed with pride at the genuine, uncomplaining manhood
before them. They had supposed themselves fixed for the winter.
Orders had been sent commanders to see the men properly housed.
Things were settling down into the inactivity of the cold season.
The Thirty Eighth was doing provost duty in Winchester, when
Thursday evening orders came to march at six the next morning.

“It was a day of cold and rain and wind. That day, that night,
into the next forenoon, in baggage, on platform, in uncleaned
cattle-cars—on them as well—this division journeyed. We have had
no such cold hereabout this winter—some were frost-bitten, but
none seriously. Saturday noon found them at ‘Camp Carroll,’—the
old summer residence of Charles Carroll—weary, cold, and hungry,
with bare shelter from the winds, and such straw for bed as any
individual foraging would supply. And yet they spoke of the
comfortable quarters! I pulled my coat about my ears as the wind
whistled by,—I looked out through the chasms in the barrack sides
at the clear, cold moonshine,—I looked up at the dense smoke hiding
the roof,—I looked around at men’s faces as the camp-fires lighted
them up,—and I wished again that the men and women at home might
see and hear these men, and be glad as I was in their devotion, and
learn, as I did, something from their cheerful endurance. It gave
me the old feeling of shame that I was not with them in body as
well as in heart, and my citizen’s dress seemed to me as a badge of
disgrace, while the contrast between the scene before me and the
comforts I came from, and should return to, was painful indeed. It
is a good gift of God that the soldier can be so content in his
lot,—as we said,—‘asking no questions of the future, but taking the
present as it comes.’

“I went in and out all over that camp, and I saw much the same
thing repeated everywhere. A happier, more contented set of men you
would not find. Bound they knew not where,—I wished that I did
not,—the one desire seemed to be to get this thing through that
they might be at home again. As I threaded my way out, I heard
one man, sitting by the fire, say, in half soliloquy, ‘Who would
think this was Sunday night!’—‘Little enough like the old Sunday
nights at home,’ I said in passing; and I walked out into the
night, and by the challenges of the guard, and over the fields, and
looked back at the camp and down upon the great city, and heard
the evening bells, and knew how well-dressed, comfortable people
would soon be gathered to their worship, little imagining what
Sunday night was to those who suffer peril, privation, absence from
home, and all civil pleasure and privilege, that they might enjoy
churches and home in quiet. I doubt not there was in the camp, that
night, as hearty service in many a heart as in the city cathedral,
chapel, or church.

“On Monday, 9th, I again made my way to their camp. If you had my
eyes, you could realize better than you can with the help of my
pen, how the inexorable laws of military rank showed themselves in
the matter of the different head-quarters. The division commander
and his staff were in the mansion-house of the ever-venerable
Charles Carroll, outside the lines. The brigade commander and his
staff were in a two-story building, no way near as good as my
old barn; the staff and line of the regiment were in a similar
building, but they seemed to have about as much room for all of
them as the brigade-commander had to himself. Even in such details,
in a casual camp, you are impressed with the difference that a
little priority in rank makes. And now from regimental quarters,
even to company quarters, from the tight walls and roof of the
barrack to the gaping sides and roof of the stable, from the
comfortable stove, though its nose be thrust out of a window, to
the fires of logs all up and down the sitting, dining, sleeping
room—all in one—of our friends of ‘the rank and file,’—the contrast
is very great—yes, painful; none the less so because the men bear
it so well. Speaking to the officers of the state of things, more
than one said he had tried to go through the smoke, and had given
it up.

“Tuesday came. During the night had come up one of those rains for
which this latitude is a little too famous. There is no half-way
about them. I had waked, more than once, and thought of the poor
fellows out there in the camp in the mud,—for this stable of theirs
had no floor to it, and was on the slope of the hill. As soon as I
could, I pulled on my cavalry boots, and in the old ‘Reserve Guard’
overcoat, minus the buttons of brass, made my way to the city, and
filling a carpet-bag with chewing and smoking tobacco, newspapers,
pictorial papers, dominoes, and various kinds of puzzles, started
for camp. I found the stable more comfortable than I had feared,
and distributed my treasures to eager hands and thankful lips, and,
I think, hearts. It was a real pleasure to see the pipes filled,
the quid rolled on the tongue, and men here and there settling
themselves to their papers and games. The Twenty Second Iowa,
on the other side of the stable, came in for a share, and as I
heard one of them say over my shoulder, ‘That bag holds out like
the widow’s cruse,’ I could not help wishing it did, and not one
of those eight thousand men—the number is not contraband now—but
should have had something to comfort him that comfortless day.

“Crossing the camp, I met, ankle deep in mud, Lieut. Davis, whom I
last saw in hospital, just from home, looking exceedingly nice,
but not quite well enough for such rough weather and work. Lieut.
Whitney, whom I had also seen while here wounded, I was sorry to
hear had been discharged. He is well spoken of by every one, and
the last thing he said to me was that he hoped to get back to his
regiment before it was all over. I think government is a ‘little
rough’ upon the men she can no longer use. It is a poor way, it
is a mean way of reducing expenses, if that is the object. A MAN
is something after all, even in such a crisis as this, and a man,
scarred and disabled, should be ‘tenderly cared for.’ No government
can afford to be without a heart!

“On Wednesday the weather was clear and cooler, and though the
chances were that camp would be broken up, one brigade having
marched in the rain the day previous, I again took my bag, filled
with paper, envelopes, pencils, and newspapers, and found our
friends still in their old quarters. From inquiry I had learned
they were in need of these things, but when I had satisfied their
demands, I had still ‘a few more left.’ Coming up to a squad of
_Iowa_ men, I said, ‘Any of you here would like some paper?’
Not a word in reply. Every man seemed stolid and dumb. They sat
about their logs, and looked in the fire. At last one, somewhat
hesitatingly, got up, and put his hand in his pocket and drew out
two or three pieces of ‘fractional currency,’ and said, ‘I _should_
like a little, but I don’t know as I have money enough to pay for
it.’ ‘My friend,’ said I, ‘you haven’t money enough to pay for it.
That isn’t what I am at. If you want paper, take it and welcome.’
You should have seen the change,—up sprung those stolid, dumb men:
‘I should like a sheet of paper, if you please, sir.’ ‘Can you
spare me an envelope?’ ‘Thank you, sir.’ ‘I should like a pencil.’
I was the centre of eager men. You should have seen those hands
stretched from all sides toward me,—hands grimed with dirt, but
honest, and hearty, and loyal hands, that had been clasped in agony
by dear ones far away, hands that had toiled for the dear country
God has given us,—hands, dirty, indeed, but there was an expression
in their fingers and palms as they eagerly waited for their turn,
such as I never detected in the unsoiled, delicate hand of which
some men as well as some women are foolishly vain. The same thing
struck me that always does in hospital and camp,—a certain reserve
and modesty. They asked for one or two sheets, or envelopes, but
almost invariably replied to my inquiry, if that was really all
they wanted, that they would like more if I had them to spare.
Before I left, I saw many ‘writing home.’ As I finished, one man
came up to me and said, ‘Have you any more of the puzzles you had
yesterday?’ and I was sorry I had not. Thinking the brigade must
leave before I could come out, as rations again for fifteen days
had been served, I said ‘Good-by’ and ‘God bless you,’ expressing
the hope that I might find out when they sailed, and give them one
good, hearty Massachusetts cheer.

“Sitting with the men on the knapsacks they piled for me, I felt
that I came to know something of them, and in some sort as if I
were a link between them and the home we all alike love. I found
them a little inclined to be thoughtful, not gloomy at all, but
they had been disappointed in finding themselves ordered on active
duty just at the time that furloughs were being granted and they
were feeling sure of reaching home. Some had not seen home since
the day of that march from Camp Cameron, which none will forget. I
think that being here so long and inactive increased the feeling,
and it would not surprise me if a little homesickness lurked
underneath. Their destination was a thing of uncertainty. They
hoped not Petersburg,—many desired Louisiana; but as soon as the
rations were given they said, ‘You can’t long keep things from an
old soldier,—this means Wilmington or Savannah.’ The leading topic
seemed the coming home again in August.

“One would have supposed these men would stand in need of some
of that aid we are so anxious at all times to give. What was my
surprise to find them packing up their superfluous baggage to send
home! They looked like men in very light marching order, but I
believe a soldier has always something he can do without. I was
sorry to find they had not been paid recently. How unjust this
seems! I was glad to hear them praise Sheridan; and glad, Mr.
Editor, of another thing,—to hear them put Massachusetts first, and
then Cambridge a little ahead of her! Didn’t I join hands with them
there? If you at home love the old city as well as we whose various
duties call us away, and will keep her up not merely to what she
has been, but to what she can be, we will do all we can to prove
ourselves citizens of no mean city, of whose doings she need not be
ashamed.

“Before this stands in type they may have again looked upon the
battle glare; they may have tasted reverse; they may have won some
new honor to their flag, new laurels to themselves; they may have
written their names among the immortal band whose fidelity and
courage shall ensure that redemption of the country to which we are
‘marching on!’”

CHAPTER XVIII.

Departure from Baltimore—Arrival at Savannah—Desolation
of the City—Sherman begins his March through the
Carolinas—Conflagration—Gen. Grover in Command of the Post—Music
in the Park—Marching Orders.

The third brigade left Camp Carroll, Jan. 13th, and, marching through
the streets of Baltimore,—its citizens not scowling at the troops as
they did two years before,—took transports at the wharves, the Thirty
Eighth embarking on the Oriental, in company with the One Hundred and
Seventy Fifth and One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New York.

As usual, there were no cooking facilities; but the men had brought
excellent appetites from the Shenandoah Valley, and two men found no
difficulty in eating a raw ham in the eight days’ passage. Stores
were taken on board at Fortress Monroe, and, at three o’clock, P. M.,
of the 15th, the steamer took her departure for the South, arriving
at the mouth of the Savannah River on the 19th, where she remained
waiting for a pilot until the 23d.

No large ship had been up the main channel, through the
obstructions, since the occupation of Savannah by Gen. Sherman; and
the undertaking was a delicate one. The men of the three regiments
crowded the rigging and the deck, barely giving the pilot a chance
to see his course; but had it been generally known that there were
seventeen torpedoes still in the harbor, between the anchorage and
the city, curiosity might not have been so active.

The passage of the obstructions was successfully made, and the
city reached before dark. The warehouses, the wharves, and the few
citizens seen, all had a decayed, broken-down look; and the fog
hanging over the river added to the gloominess of the scene. On the
Mississippi and in the Shenandoah Valley, the men of the Thirty
Eighth had seen the destruction produced by actual conflict, where
the shot and shell had whirled through the air, and plunged into
storehouse and dwelling: here, they saw the effects of war on the
prosperity of a thriving commercial city, which had seen no battle
horrors, but which had been shut up within itself, to live on its own
resources.

The regiment remained on board until morning, and then went into
quarters in a warehouse on Bay Street, where it remained until the
26th, the weather still being cool enough to make ice at night. At
this time, Savannah presented a scene of desolation sad to behold,
even in an enemy’s country. Pools of green, stagnant water stood in
the principal streets; the beautiful squares had been stripped of
their railings and fences to build the shanties of Sherman’s troops,
who were encamped all through the city; the houses, as well as the
stores, were shut up, and apparently tenantless; the broad avenues
were deserted, except by passing soldiers, who vainly tried to fathom
the mystery of the closed blinds, wondering if this were not one of
the charmed cities pictured by Eastern story-tellers; and a green
mould, beginning at the basement, seemed to be creeping up the sides
of the houses.

Early Thursday morning, the 26th, the regiment left its quarters in
Bay Street, and marched to the outskirts of the town, halting on
the edge of a swamp, where the collection of dead mules and horses
only awaited the rays of the summer sun to breed pestilence and
death. At first, it was supposed that the halt in this, the most
dismal-looking place to be found in the vicinity of Savannah, was to
be only a temporary one; but, to the intense disgust of officers and
men, orders were received to lay out a camp. However, as Sherman’s
troops were breaking camp to begin their famous march through the
Carolinas, boards were plenty; and, in a few days, the regiment was
more comfortably housed than it had yet been; while the mules and
horses were buried, the company streets graded, and every precaution
taken to make the camp healthy.

Sherman’s army, after leaving Savannah, were obstructed in their
march by the flooding of the low lands; and it was still uncertain
whether Hardee and Beauregard would permit him to sweep through
the country unopposed. Consequently, some commotion existed in the
camps of the second division of the Nineteenth Corps, when a sudden
explosion of shells took place at midnight on the 27th. At first,
it was thought by some, that Sherman had been forced back; but the
church-bells beginning to ring, and the explosions becoming more
rapid, the fact soon became apparent that the arsenal in which the
rebel ammunition had been stored was on fire. A detachment from the
regiment was sent for, and, under direction of Lieut. Copeland, who
took charge of the engines, did efficient service in checking the
progress of the fire, not, however, before it had destroyed a great
many blocks of brick and stone buildings. The negroes worked manfully
at the engines, some of them being struck by the fragments of falling
shells, which were thrown at a great distance over the city; but
those of the inhabitants who were not immediately affected by the
catastrophe, stood idly on the corners of the streets, with their
hands in their pockets.

Afterward, another call was made, for all who were in camp to go on
guard in the streets to prevent pillaging; and the entire regiment
remained until daylight, when, returning to camp, in an hour or two,
the greater part were detailed for picket or fatigue. The fatigue
duty consisted in unloading stores sent from Boston and New York to
the “suffering poor,” who were too lazy to unload it themselves. The
duty of the regiment in Savannah consisted in unloading commissary
stores, furnishing guards and pickets, and building breastworks; the
men being on duty nearly every other night.

Gradually, the people began to steal out of their houses, and
business, which always followed in the track of the Union armies,
became better; but there was no loyalty yet. While the citizens
condescended to take the supplies of food furnished by government
and by the North, their sympathies were with Lee behind the
breastworks of Richmond, and with Johnson in Carolina. As soon as
Gen. Grover took command of the post, he set all the unemployed
people, black and white, at work cleaning up the city, and, in a
short time, the streets were drained, the squares put in order, and
the dead animals buried. Concerts were given in the Park several
times a week by the bands of the Ninth Connecticut and the Fourteenth
New Hampshire, and special guards appointed to preserve order; but,
in spite of all the general could do for the comfort and pleasure of
the citizens, they remained sulky.

The clergymen, especially, clung to the fortunes of the falling
Confederacy; and notwithstanding a large portion of their audience
on Sunday consisted of Union officers and soldiers, not a word of
sympathy was expressed for the government, nor a word of reprobation
for the cruelties of Andersonville, which were casting a blot on the
fair fame of Georgia never to be forgotten while one victim of that
prison-pen survives.

On Sunday the 19th, news was received of the evacuation of
Charleston, and the guns of Fort Pulaski announced the fact to
the unwilling ears of the citizens. The birthday of Washington
was celebrated by the firing of salutes, ringing of bells, and a
cessation from all unnecessary labor. Good news now began to pour in
fast. The fall of Charleston was soon followed by that of Wilmington;
and the men began to lay plans, which they had never done before, of
what they would do “when the war was over.” But the journeyings of
the Thirty Eighth were not yet at an end. By the time the “shebangs”
were made comfortable, and the camp-ground in good condition,
marching orders were received, and the brigade was notified to pack
up preparatory to taking transports.

On the 4th of March, the Twenty Fourth Iowa and the One Hundred and
Seventy Sixth New York broke camp; and the next day, the Thirty
Eighth, the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth, and the One Hundred
and Fifty Sixth, accompanied by the band of the latter regiment,
marched through the city, treating the citizens who were returning
from church to a taste of Union music, and embarked on the steamer
Ashland. Not one of the six regiments composing the brigade having a
colonel present, the command was conferred upon Col. Day, of the One
Hundred and Thirty First New York.

CHAPTER XIX.

Hilton Head—Cape Fear River—Paroled Prisoners—Wilmington—Morehead
City—Newbern—Back to Morehead—Fatigue Duty and Oysters—An
Alarm—Battle of Petersburg—All aboard for Goldsborough—Sherman’s
Army—Surrender of Lee—Assassination of the President—Surrender of
Johnson—Morehead again—Transport—Rubber Coffee—Savannah.

At daylight, the steamer left the city arriving at Hilton Head
about noon, where, after transferring the brigade head-quarters and
a portion of the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth to another ship, she
anchored for the night. Leaving Hilton Head the morning of the 7th,
the mouth of Cape Fear River was reached about noon the next day. A
flag was hoisted for a pilot; but none responding, the captain of
the ship determined to follow the lead of another steamer, and go up
to Wilmington. The Ashland was about a hundred yards astern of the
other ship, when the latter suddenly grounded, and a collision seemed
certain. Fortunately, there was time to change the direction, and the
Ashland rubbed by, smashing a quarter-boat in the contact. Had the
distance between the two vessels been a few yards less, the effect
upon both might have been disastrous.

Coming to an anchor off Fort Caswell, the troops had an opportunity
to see the effects of heavy shot on an iron-clad,—one of the monitors
that had taken part in the assault on Fort Fisher lying near. Soon a
despatch-boat came alongside, with orders for the vessel to run up as
far as Smithville, and there await further instructions.

While anchored off Smithville, a boat came down the river loaded with
paroled prisoners, among them a number of the Thirty Eighth, who had
been captured at Cedar Creek, had been sent to Salisbury prison, and
were paroled upon the approach of Sherman’s cavalry. They all told
the same old story of hunger and exposure.

After some delay, a pilot was procured, and the steamer started
again for Wilmington, but owing to a thick fog, did not reach the
city until morning, when, as she was hauling into the wharf, a
harbor-master hailed the captain, wanting to know what brought
him there when he had orders to go to sea. Down went the anchor
again, and Lieut.-Col. Richardson went on shore to report, and see
if anybody knew anything about the third brigade of the second
division of the Nineteenth Army Corps. Getting instructions, the
lieutenant-colonel returned, and the ship again steamed down the
river. Passing by Forts Anderson and Caswell, by the obstructions
in the river, and by the wreck of Admiral Porter’s mock-monitor,
the ship again anchored, and waited for the fog to lift. In the
afternoon, a pilot came aboard, and, it being then clear, the steamer
stood out to sea, the earthworks of Fort Fisher looming up like hills
in the distance.

After a pleasant voyage along the coast of North Carolina, the
transport reached Morehead City on the afternoon of the 8th, and
landed the troops, who marched through the straggling village,
and stacked arms beside the railroad track. The place was full of
rumors in regard to fighting at Kinston, where Johnston was trying
to overpower Schofield before the arrival of Sherman; and all the
available troops were being sent to the front.

At eight o’clock, P. M., the regiment crowded into and on top of its
portion of an immense train of box-cars, and after a moonlight ride
through the turpentine forests of North Carolina, reached Newbern at
midnight, waking the town with cheers; for the brisk March air made
the blood run quick, and the men were in the best of spirits.

Disembarking at the depot, the regiment stacked arms, and soon
numerous camp-fires were blazing, and the indispensable coffee
boiling.

The rumors had grown less warlike as the train approached Newbern;
and upon arriving at that place, the troops were informed that they
were just too late,—that the fighting was all over, and that their
services were not needed. The men of the third brigade had been in
the field too long to be “spoiling for a fight,” and were not sorry
at being “counted out” of a battle just on the eve of peace.

The night was sufficiently frosty to harden the ground; and after
drinking their coffee, the men spread their blankets, and were soon
in repose. In the morning, the brigade marched a short distance
beyond the city, and quartered in buildings formerly occupied as a
hospital.

Newbern had been occupied for so long a time by the Union forces,
that its garrison had acquired habits different from those in vogue
in campaigning regiments; and the advent in their midst of such a
brigade as the third made quite a commotion. As soon as they had
stacked arms, the men, as usual, began to hunt for boards and other
articles to make themselves comfortable, in case of going into
camp in the vicinity. In an out-building, some A tents were found
packed away; and, as A tents were a luxury the Thirty Eighth had not
known for many days, they were at once appropriated. A commissary
sergeant of a certain Massachusetts regiment soon came after the
property, saying that they belonged to his company, and that he would
be responsible for them. “No, you won’t,” said the Company E boys,
whose portion of the prize was claimed. “You can account for them
as lost in action.” This way of accounting for property was beyond
the commissary’s experience, and he invoked the aid of the adjutant
to recover the tents. He supposed that he got them, but afterward
two canvas structures towered suspiciously above the dog-tents at
Morehead.

There being no call for the services of the regiment at Newbern,
it was sent back to Morehead City, arriving at that place in the
afternoon, and going into camp in a grave-yard, between the railroad
track and the river. The Nineteenth Corps was pretty well broken
up at this time,—the first division being still in the Valley with
Sheridan, the second division scattered through Georgia and Carolina,
and the third division in Louisiana.

Morehead City had been selected as the base of supplies for Sherman’s
army, and wharves were being built, storehouses erected, and
additional railroad tracks laid, while the harbor was crowded with
vessels of all descriptions, awaiting their turn to be unloaded. The
work of unloading the ships and loading the cars was done principally
by the men of the third brigade, assisted by colored soldiers and
contrabands; and there was no cessation of labor, night or day,—one
detail going on, when another came off. As a relief to the hard work,
oysters and clams were to be procured in abundance a few hundred
yards from the camp; and, as soon as the tide receded, the beach was
covered with oystermen.

Nothing occurred to break the monotony of the daily and nightly
fatigue duty till Sunday, March 26th, when one of the old Louisiana
style of “scares” took place. The assembly sounded, the regiment
formed in line, and the pickets were reinforced; but beyond the blaze
and smoke from a large fire in the pine woods, and the occasional
discharge of a piece of artillery, no signs of any enemy were seen,
and it soon appeared that the alarm had been occasioned by the report
of an “intelligent contraband,” that the enemy was marching on
Morehead in force,—said contraband having heard a battery practising
at a target.

April 7, the great news of the battle in front of Richmond and
Petersburg, resulting in the defeat of Lee, was read to the
troops, causing much rejoicing, although they did not commit such
extravagances as the speculators in the exchanges of New York and
Boston,—accounts of whose proceedings were read with amazement by the
soldiers in the field.

A change had been made in the military programme, and Morehead was no
longer to be the great base of supplies. At noon of the 8th, orders
were received to pack up, and three o’clock, P. M., found the Thirty
Eighth and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth again on the road to
Newbern on platform cars. Newbern was not the destination, however;
and the train finally reached Goldsborough at three o’clock in the
morning. Great numbers of recruits and high-bounty men had passed
over the road lately; and, at the various wood and water stations,
the old soldiers gathered around the train with such queries as, “How
much bounty did you get?” “How long did you enlist for?” “Where’s
your cow?” etc. One fellow, trying to get a nearer look in the
moonlight, exclaimed, “Why, they are colored troops.” So they were
“colored,” compared with many who had passed over the road lately.
When it was known that the brigade had been “in the Valley with
Sheridan,” there was a change in the tone of the remarks.

The regiment bivouacked near the depot till morning, when the back
mails that had been sent to Savannah, arrived, and were assorted.
Sherman’s entire army was encamped about Goldsborough; and the five
corps broke camp, and began the march toward Raleigh the day after
the arrival of the Thirty Eighth. Among all that force of veteran
troops, none appeared to better advantage, or had a more military
bearing, than the famous Thirty Third Massachusetts, who had charged
under Joe Hooker at Lookout Mountain, and who had marched from
Atlanta to Savannah, and thence to Goldsborough.

Upon the departure of Gen. Schofield, Gen. Birge was left in command
of the post, and the Thirty Eighth selected to do duty in the
town,—Cos. A, B, D, and K as provost guards, and the remaining six
companies to guard the commissary stores.

Two days after the departure of Sherman’s troops, the news of Lee’s
surrender was received, and glad enough were the men of the Thirty
Eighth that the grand old Army of the Potomac had the honor of giving
the finishing stroke to the rebellion.

While the whole army was jubilant at the speedy prospect of peace,
and of the country being once more united, and when a feeling of pity
for the defeated rebels was becoming prevalent among the soldiers, a
wild rumor reached Goldsborough on the 17th that President Lincoln
had been assassinated. The news was so horrible that it was not
believed, and the next day it was reported that he had received only
a slight flesh wound.

Then came the tidings that Johnston had surrendered his entire force
to Sherman; and, without knowing the precise terms,—willing to put
all confidence in Sherman’s integrity,—the soldiers in North Carolina
gave way to an enthusiasm that none of the previous victories had
excited. All day they poured into the government printing-office
to learn if the report was official; and crowds gathered about the
orders posted on the buildings. But the next day, the report of the
assassination was confirmed; and then a revulsion of feeling took
place, and Eastern and Western men alike, in stern tones, hoped
that hostilities would be resumed. Few of the citizens of Raleigh
or Goldsborough dreamed of the slumbering fire in their midst, that
the least provocation would have fanned into a flame that would have
destroyed all before it; and it required all of Gen. Sherman’s tact
to keep his men quiet.

The paroled rebel soldiers, to their credit be it said, were
unanimous in denouncing the assassination; and were determined
to allow of no guerilla warfare in the State, now that the main
armies had surrendered. Perfect good feeling existed between the
late belligerents, although it was rather tantalizing to the Union
soldiers, who had been from home so long, to see the ladies crowd
around and caress the gray jackets.

The terms of Johnston’s surrender not proving acceptable at
Washington, a new arrangement was made; and the lieutenant-general
himself came on to ratify it. On his return, while passing through
Goldsborough, a wheel came off the engine, and the general was
obliged to leave the car, and wait for another locomotive. The news
soon spread that Gen. Grant was in town; and he was flanked at every
turn by the admiring soldiers, who didn’t ask him for a _speech_,
however.

The companies on provost were quartered in the Court House; and those
doing guard-duty had erected comfortable “shebangs,” with the hope of
occupying them until they left for home, when marching orders were
received, and colored troops arrived to relieve them. Breaking camp
during the evening of the 1st of May, the regiment bivouacked in the
grounds of the Court House till morning, and then took the cars for
Morehead City.

At all the little settlements on the road, women waved their
handkerchiefs, probably glad enough to see the stream of blue-coats
again turned northward. Passing through Newbern, the train reached
Morehead about sundown, and the regiment bivouacked in the old
camp-ground, among the graves, where it remained until the 4th, when
it embarked on the transport Thetis, in company with the One Hundred
and Twentieth New York and the _division horses_!

The men thought they had already tasted every flavor capable of
being produced from coffee; but a new experience awaited them on
this transport. The drink was made by putting the ground coffee in
an empty pork-barrel, and letting on steam through a rubber hose;
and the result was a beverage in which the taste of the barrel, the
rubber hose, the cask-water, and the coffee, struggled for the
mastery. One ration was sufficient for some companies, although the
New York boys drank a quart of it twice or three times a day.

On the morning of the 6th, after a search of several hours for Hilton
Head, the officers of the steamer ascertained their whereabouts;
and, at noon, the ship arrived off the Savannah River, when a pilot
was procured, and the voyage continued to Savannah. The troops
remained on board until Sunday morning; when they disembarked, and
took possession of the camps just vacated by a portion of the first
brigade, which had gone to Augusta.

CHAPTER XX.

Change in Savannah—Southern Ladies and Clergy—Portion of the
Brigade goes to Augusta—Habits of the Country People—Jeff.
Davis—Cos. C and G go to Darien—Arrival of First Division—Scarcity
of Muster Rolls—Want of Transportation—Start for Home—Gallop’s
Island—Reception in Cambridge.

Savannah had changed essentially within the past two months. By the
surrender of Lee and Johnston, all hopes of establishing Southern
independence were at an end; and the people were evidently about to
submit quietly, and make the best of their situation. The streets
swarmed with paroled rebels; and the gold stripes and fine uniforms
of the Union staff-officers had no attractions in the eyes of
the ladies, compared with the simple gray jackets of those they
had sent into the field, and whom they now warmly welcomed home,
notwithstanding the failure of their arms. The tenacity with which
the females of the Southern States clung to their cause, and the
great sacrifices which they made for it, could not but win the
respect of those who witnessed it; and seldom did a Union soldier,
no matter what might be the provocation, treat them with other than
the most respectful courtesy. But no such feelings were felt for the
clergy, who were equally devoted to the rebel cause. Preachers of the
gospel of peace, they had been foremost in fomenting the rebellion;
they had never lifted their voices against the cruelties of the
prisons,—which exceeded those of Morocco in her worst days,—or tried
in the least to soften the barbarities of war; and now, when all hope
of Southern success was at an end, and resistance to the government,
either active or passive, a crime, they yielded a sullen submission,
or opposed a petty resistance to the acts of the military rulers.
And it is a strange fact, that, even in the Northern pulpit, the
demands for vengeance against the military leaders of the Confederacy
were greater than any that proceeded from the army; and more than
one minister advocated the breaking of the agreement on the faith
of which Lee surrendered to Gen. Grant,—a proceeding which would
have been looked upon with disgust by every soldier in the army,
as much as they detested Lee and his treason. As the Thirty Eighth
Regiment never had the services of a chaplain, even to give their
dead comrades a Christian burial, perhaps they were not properly
instructed.

Not only in the appearance and sentiments of the citizens had a
change taken place in Savannah; but the city itself had greatly
improved under the auspices of Gen. Grover, and it had become one of
the most desirable places in which to do garrison duty in the South.
Time hung heavily, however, on the hands of the men of the Thirty
Eighth. The war was over; the object for which they had volunteered
was accomplished; and now they wished to lay aside their uniforms,
and resume their citizenship. Beside, every mail from the North
brought accounts of the mustering out of troops, and of the reduction
of the army.

On the 11th of May, the second brigade and the Twenty Fourth Iowa and
the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth New York broke camp, to march to
Augusta, leaving the remaining regiments of the third brigade to do
the light picket-duty, which was now merely nominal, and which was
kept up chiefly to prevent an illicit trade between the city and the
country before proper regulations were established.

The appearance and habits of the country people, who daily passed
out and in the lines, were amusing to men who had been accustomed to
the New England way of doing things. Some of them came thirty miles
to market, with a dozen or two of eggs, a pair of chickens, and a
few vegetables. It took them one day to come, another to do their
business, and a third to return. And then such vehicles were never
seen north of Mason and Dixon’s line. The women generally accompanied
their husbands, and rode on the mule attached to the wagon, with a
snuff-stick or a pipe in their mouth. Sometimes, on reaching the
picket-fire, they would take the snuff-stick out, and get one of the
pickets to light their pipe; and, if reports were true, when the pipe
went out, a quid of tobacco would take its place. This custom of
snuff-dipping appeared to be practised chiefly in Georgia and North
Carolina,—in the latter State, ladies of intelligence and refinement
indulging in the habit: it was not observed in Louisiana.

Little occurred during the remainder of the stay in Savannah to
break the monotony of camp-life, or which is deserving of record.
The regiment daily looked for orders which would send them home,
and all the conversation and thought of the men turned to that
theme. On the 16th, Jeff. Davis passed down the river, on the way
to Hilton Head. A portion of the Sixth U. S. Regulars arrived on
the 21st, and quartered in the town,—all branches of the service
being now represented, regulars, volunteers, and colored troops.
The dress-parades of the latter were attended by almost the entire
colored population, who, upon the close of the parade, swarmed
through the principal avenues, monopolizing the sidewalks, to the
annoyance of the white citizens, and the amusement of the soldiers.

Thursday, June 1, Cos. C and G, under command of Capt. Bennett,
started for Darien, Ga., with twenty days’ rations; and the regiment
gave up all hope of getting home before their full time was served.
The picket was taken off on the 2d, and restrictions to trade
removed; and the only duty to be done consisted in furnishing a few
guards to watch the breastworks.

The re-enlisted regiments of the first division of the Nineteenth
Corps began to arrive in Savannah on the 5th of June, for the purpose
of relieving those troops whose time would expire before the 1st of
November; and the hopes of getting home in a few days arose again. On
the 7th, the first brigade reached the city from Augusta; and, on the
9th, the Twenty Fourth Iowa, and the One Hundred and Fifty Sixth, the
One Hundred and Seventy Fifth, and One Hundred and Seventy Sixth New
York began the march for that place.

Time had never passed so slowly with the regiment before, as during
this month of June, when there was nothing to do but to talk of home
all the long summer-day. Some tried to pass the time in picking
blackberries; some in manufacturing bone rings, corps badges, and
other trinkets; while others, and in the afternoon this class
included nearly the whole regiment, sought refuge in sleep. The
occasional arrival of a mail brought a little change; but then the
letters and papers were all filled with accounts of the return home
of regiments, and with the anxiety with which friends awaited the
Thirty Eighth. Attempts were made to excite an interest in drilling;
but it was up-hill work, and officers and men alike soon tired of it.

Orders, at last, came from department head-quarters to muster out the
regiment; and on the 9th, the officers began to work on a few copies
of blank rolls that had been received; but Cos C and G were still
absent, and delegations from the camp hourly visited the wharves,
and closely scanned every approaching steamer, to be the first to
herald their arrival. The first question upon awaking in the morning
was, “Have C and G got back yet?” At length, the well known beat of
drummer Howe was heard in the camp, and the men rushed out of their
tents to greet their comrades, who were never so welcome before.
Major Allen, who had been acting as provost marshal at Augusta,
joined the regiment the same day, and other detailed men were
returned to their commands.

By some oversight in the chief mustering officers’ department, there
were no blank-rolls on hand, and none arrived until the 23d; but then
all other duties were at once suspended, including an inspection
which was to have taken place, and the officers worked night and day
on the rolls. On the 26th, the recruits, and the colored under-cooks
who had been enlisted at Baton Rouge, less than thirty in all, were
transferred to the Twenty Sixth Massachusetts, leaving the regiment
with less than three hundred of the ten hundred and forty who had
left the State three summers previously.

Finally, the papers were all completed; but there was no
transportation. It seemed to be the fate of the regiment to serve its
full time out. Every other regiment organized under the call of 1862
had already reached home; and, on account of their being a greater
portion of their time in a distant department, probably fewer men of
the Thirty Eighth had ever received furloughs than those of any other
command. Ill feeling began to arise between the men and the officers,
the former, in their nervous, excited state, charging their officers
with not using proper exertions to get home. A few words, however,
from the lieut.-colonel, at the close of the last dress-parade that
took place, on the evening of the 29th, cleared away the cloud and
restored good feeling.

In the forenoon of June 30, the welcome orders came, “strike
tents, to go home.” The orders had scarcely left the mouths of the
orderlies, before the men were swarming on the roofs of the shebangs.

The shelter-tents and mosquito-nets, with all property belonging to
the government, except guns and equipments, were at once turned in,
and the knapsacks packed ready to start.

An order had been issued by the war department, a short time
previously, allowing the soldiers to keep their guns and equipments
by paying six dollars each for them,—about the price they would
bring at a public sale; nearly all the men in the Thirty Eighth had
concluded to take them, and for several days previous to this had
been busily at work, polishing the barrels, varnishing the stocks,
and making covers to keep them in good order on the passage home.

At five o’clock, the assembly was blown, the regimental line formed,
and, escorted by the drum-corps of the One Hundred and Twenty Eighth
New York, the regiment marched through the city, with muzzled guns,
and embarked on the steamer Fairbanks,—a small blockade-runner,
barely large enough to accommodate the reduced command.

The boat left the wharf at eleven o’clock, and proceeded down the
river, anchoring at the mouth until daylight, when she steamed up to
Hilton Head, to land a portion of the cargo. At two, P. M., she left
Hilton Head, and steered north. It was the general desire to reach
home before the 4th of July, but the sailing qualities displayed by
the transport during the first two days dispelled that hope. On the
afternoon of Wednesday, Gay’s Head was made,—the first New England
land the majority of the regiment had seen for three years. A pilot
was taken off Holmes’s Hole, and the men retired to their quarters
with the expectation of being in Boston Bay before morning. But it
was the day after the Fourth, and the lights looked hazy to the eyes
of the old pilot; so he concluded to anchor back of Cape Cod until
morning. The cool northern breeze was in striking contrast to the
soft summer airs of Savannah; and the men shivered under the slight
clothing they had brought.

In the morning, the ship weighed anchor, and continued the voyage.
It seemed as if Cape Cod would never be doubled: headland succeeded
headland, until, finally, the point was passed, and the bay entered.
As the towns and villages on the South Shore came in sight, eager
eyes were strained to catch a glimpse of the one spot so long the
object of thought. The luxuriant banks of the Mississippi, or the
historical ones of the Potomac, had no charms compared with the
dwarfed shrubbery of Cohasset, of Scituate, of Marshfield, and of
Plymouth.

At nine o’clock, the steamer cast anchor off Deer Island. The pilot
objected to taking her up to the wharf without a permit from the
health officers; and the lieut.-colonel and Surgeon Ward went on
shore, and procured the necessary papers. But the regiment was not
allowed to get home so easily. Just as the mouth of the harbor was
entered, a sputtering little quartermaster’s boat came alongside
and ordered the captain to land the troops at Gallop’s Island. The
lieutenant-colonel, however, had been too long in the field to take
orders from every boy who talked loudly, and directed the captain to
proceed to the wharf. When off Long Wharf, the tug-boat again came
alongside, and the officer, in a more respectful tone, informed the
commander of the regiment that the order for the troops to land on
the island was from head-quarters, and, at the same time, offered to
take him on shore to report. It was now midnight; and there being no
hope of landing, the men left the decks and retired.

The morning opened with a cold rain; and at nine o’clock, the steamer
proceeded to Gallop’s Island, where the regiment landed, and went
into quarters in barracks. Here, in sight of the homes from which
most of them had been absent for three years, the men remained while
the muster-out rolls were being examined, and preparations made to
pay them. Three passes to each company were allowed for twenty-four
hours; but a majority of the men lived at such a distance that they
were of no avail.

In the meantime, the City of Cambridge had been making great
preparations to give the entire regiment a reception; and the
furloughed soldiers were everywhere questioned in the streets by the
school-children as to their discharge.

The rolls were at last pronounced correct; and on the evening of the
12th, the paymaster announced his intention of coming to the island
the next morning. A grand illumination of the barracks took place
that night, while the rolls were being signed; and the officers on
duty on the island found it difficult to enforce the order in regard
to putting out the lights at taps. Early on the morning of the 13th,
the companies formed in line, marched to the office of the paymaster,
signed the rolls for eleven months’ pay, and received the honorable
discharge so eagerly looked forward to. Then, taking passage on the
ferry-boat the regiment landed on Commercial Wharf, where it was met
by the Committee of Reception from Cambridge, who had provided teams
to carry the knapsacks.

Headed by Gilmore’s band, the regiment marched through Boston to
Craigie’s Bridge, where its arrival was announced by a salute,
and by the ringing of bells. A long procession here awaited to
escort it through East and Old Cambridge to the pavilion erected at
Cambridgeport. The military companies appeared with full members;
the Reserve Guard,—in whose ranks were noticed old friends who had
visited the regiment in field and camp,—had left their business
to welcome the returned volunteers; the firemen had decorated and
polished their engines until they looked like elaborate pieces of
ornamental work; a cavalcade of ladies, dressed with exquisite taste
and with cheeks freshened by the spirited exercise, graced the
occasion with their presence; while thousands of school-children,
bubbling over with joy, lined the streets.

And in addition to all, there were old comrades-in-arms,—some who
had been stricken down by the storm of lead that filled the air on
that June Sunday at Port Hudson; others who, wounded and faint,
had anxiously watched the ebb and flow of victory at the Opequan;
still others who had experienced the horrors of Salisbury, after the
surprise at Cedar Creek. Not until then did the men know how close
were the ties that bound those together who for months or years had
shared a common lot. But the regiment was now in the hands of its
friends; and the account of its reception will be told in the words
of the “Cambridge Chronicle” of the following Saturday, greatly
condensed, however:—

Thursday last (the day of the reception of the gallant Thirty
Eighth regiment, three full companies of which were recruited from
this city) was the greatest day Cambridge has ever known. Every
heart beat high with exultant joy and pride, for there was not
a citizen, young or old, who did not have a special interest in
the patriot soldiers whose return has made us all so happy in the
repossession of our brave soldier sons, brothers, husbands, and
friends.

The reception was a magnificent testimonial of the esteem in which
the services of our soldiers are held by a grateful people. It
was an ovation, wherein the whole people, the young and the old,
the rich and the poor, united together to do honor to the citizen
soldiers who went forth to secure the blessings of Liberty,
Union, and Peace to a distracted country. Right nobly have they
accomplished their holy work! After many weary marches, through
many a battle and skirmish, their patient endurance has been
rewarded by victory so complete, that it would seem to be the
termination of rebellion in this country forever, and of the foul
spirit that inaugurated and controlled it.

Never has our city worn a happier, a more brilliant, or a more
social aspect. The streets were thronged with the people, who
seemed anxious to express by their presence, their joy at the
return of our volunteers. Their lively holiday attire added largely
to the gay appearance, which the decorations that met the eye
on every hand, gave to the streets through which the procession
marched.

The reception was as honorable to the city as it was creditable
to the feelings that prompted it, and must have been particularly
gratifying to the regiment, from the fact that it has had no
trumpeter to blazon forth its every act, and to continually
reiterate the assertion that in the prosecution of the holy war
it has excelled all other regiments. The universality of the
demonstrations of “Welcome Home,”—the approving cheers, the cordial
grasping of hands, the thanks beaming from every eye attested that
its course had been anxiously marked and highly approved,—that,
having enlisted for the war, they realized that their duty was
plain:

“Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do or die.”

THE RECEPTION.

The morning of the 13th dawned, but no bright sunlight gave promise
of a pleasant day; many forebodings of rain, troubled the good
citizens of Cambridge, which, as the day progressed, were banished
by the dispersion of threatening clouds, and nature exhibited
as magnificent a day as the most critical could desire for the
reception of the gallant heroes of the Thirty Eighth.

* * * * *

The regiment arrived at Cragie’s Bridge about half past
twelve,—when the Cambridge Light Battery, Capt. Adams, consisting
of ex-members of the Ninth and Eleventh Batteries thundered forth
the loud welcoming notes, which proclaimed to the anxiously
awaiting citizens that the hour of doubt had passed; that Cambridge
had at last received her noble heroes within her own borders.

Warm, indeed, was the reception at the bridge; great, indeed,
was the temptation to break ranks, but discipline overcame the
waverings of affection toward relations and friends long separated,
and with firm, elastic step, and with joyous smiles, the veterans,
headed by their loved lieutenant-colonel, who has been acting
colonel nearly all the time they have been in service, passed
through the open ranks of the thousands who had assembled to do
them honor. On—on through the long line they passed, greeted by
cheers which can only be given when the heart is in full sympathy
with its object. The gallant colonel, bareheaded, bowed his head
on either side in acknowledgment of the tokens of regard, and so
they passed to Cambridge Street. Here the procession was formed as
follows:—

ORDER OF PROCESSION.

A Detachment of Police, under the command of Chief Stimpson.

Morse’s Brass Band, twenty-one pieces.

MILITARY.

31st Unattached Co. M. V. M., Capt. Torrey, sixty-eight men.
34th Unattached Co. M. V. M., Capt. Harrington, seventy-one men.
12th Unattached Co. M. V. M., Lieut. Leland, seventy-five men.
Under command of Capt. Meacham.

Cambridge Reserve Guard, Capt. Bullard, seventy-five men.
Cambridge Cadets, Capt. Beach, numbering thirty-eight.

FIRE DEPARTMENT.

Steam Fire Engine, No. 1, Capt. Rollins, eighteen men.
Steam Fire Engine, No. 2, Capt. Cade, twenty-two men.
Steam Fire Engine, No. 3, Capt. Murphy, twenty-one men.
Franklin Hook and Ladder Co., Capt. Frazer, twenty-four men.
Hydrant Engine Co. No. 4, Capt. Parker, forty-five men.
Daniel Webster Engine Co. No. 5, Capt. Marston, thirty-five men.
Under command of Capt. George B. Eaton, Chief Engineer.

Aid. CHIEF MARSHAL, Major GEORGE E. RICHARDSON. Aid.

Cambridge Brass Band, twenty pieces.

COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENTS.

George P. Carter, Alpheus Mead, John S. Sawyer, Nathan G. Gooch,
William Daily.

Returned Officers of the United States Army, mounted and in uniform.

Returned soldiers and past members of the Thirty Eighth, and other
Regiments, under the command of Capt. Wyman, 120 men.

WOUNDED AND DISABLED SOLDIERS IN CARRIAGES.

Gilmore’s Band, twenty-four pieces.

THIRTY EIGHTH MASS. REGIMENT,

Under command of Col. JAMES P. RICHARDSON.

Car, with thirty-six young ladies, dressed in white, with appropriate
badges, representing the different States of the Union,
under the direction of J. W. Whittier.

Mounted Cavalry Band, ten pieces.

Cavalcade—finely mounted and caparisoned—consisting of thirty-five
young ladies and upwards of two hundred gentlemen, under
the command of John C. Stiles, Esq., assisted by
O. G. Jones and W. A. Ward.

MOVING OF THE PROCESSION—DECORATIONS, &C.

The procession moved from Cragie’s Bridge under a line of flags and
streamers,—upon which appeared the mottoes, “Heroes of 1862, worthy
sons of the heroes of 1776. We welcome our brave defenders.”

The procession passed up Cambridge Street under a line of flags and
streamers, and a large shield bearing the inscriptions, “All hail
to the Stars and Stripes.” “Honor to the brave defenders of the
Star-Spangled Banner.”

* * * * *

The grand feature of the reception in East Cambridge was presented
between Fourth and Fifth Streets. Here ropes had been drawn along
each side of Cambridge Street, and on the south side were ranged
about eight hundred children from the public schools in East
Cambridge, bearing small flags and bouquets in their hands. The
Putnam and Thorndike Grammar Schools were designated by shield-like
bannerets, bearing the names of the schools. On the opposite side
of the street, a long table was spread with a bounteous supply of
cake, pies, sandwiches, and other tempting baits to hungry men, to
appease their appetites. This pleasing feature was an impromptu
one, conceived by the ladies on the evening previous, and executed
in good taste.

As the procession passed this point, the school-children sang
patriot songs of welcome. When the veterans reached it they
were halted for a few minutes, and partook of a light collation
provided for them, washing it down with tea or coffee as they
preferred. This being accomplished, it was the children’s turn at
presentation. They presented their bouquets to the soldiers, who
then took up the line of march, when all the scholars partook of a
bountiful collation from the same table.

The procession passed on through Cambridge and Winsor streets to
Broadway, along which it passed under flags and streamers, bearing
mottoes of welcome, and acknowledgments of thanks, passing houses
appropriately decorated,—among which was a beautifully draped
portrait of the martyr president,—to Prospect Street. Here a line
of flags and streamers was pendent, and a motto, “Death to Treason.”

On Prospect Street, at the residence of J. C. Wellington, Esq.,
sixteen beautiful young ladies, dressed alike, in white waists
and black skirts, trimmed with national colors, emblems of Love
and Hope and Faith, were ranged. Each held in her hand a splendid
bouquet, which they presented to the veterans as they passed.
The decorations in this vicinity were superb; among which was
an elegantly mounted full-length painting of the Father of his
country. Among the mottoes here were, “You left your homes at the
call of duty. You return victorious, the nation saved.” “1776.
Liberty. 1865. May we never forget your comrades who sacrificed
their lives on the altar of liberty.”

From Prospect Street the procession moved on through Harvard Street
to Quincy. Lines of flags and streamers crossed Harvard Street at
different points; nearly every house exhibited, by flags, drapery,
or mottoes, the thanks and esteem of the residents. The Mayor’s
residence was very elegantly decorated, and bore the mottoes,
“All hail to the Stars and Stripes.” “Welcome!” “One Flag—One
Country—One Constitution,”—“Welcome Veterans.”

On the south side of Harvard Street, near the Mayor’s residence,
fifteen hundred scholars of the different schools of Old Cambridge
and Cambridgeport were stationed to do their part in the outpouring
of welcome home to the veterans. It was the most pleasing feature
of the day. The hundreds of happy children, bearing flowers and
flags, singing songs of welcome home, waving their tiny flags,
and swelling the pæans of praise and welcome to the returned
braves, was indeed well calculated to please, and will doubtless
remain vividly impressed on the memories of the beholders, until
long after those little ones have become actively engaged in
the manifold cares and duties, joys, sorrows, frivolities, and
responsibilities of adult life. Bannerets were distributed through
the ranks of the scholars bearing the inscriptions, “Cambridge High
School”—“Harvard Grammar School”—“Webster Grammar School”—“Allston
Grammar School”—“Washington Grammar School”—“Shepard Grammar
School.” As the veterans passed the scholars, they were made the
recipients of so many flowers, that some difficulty was experienced
as to the disposition they should make of them.

The procession passed on through Harvard and Quincy Streets to
Broadway; thence to North Avenue, and to Harvard Square, amid the
shouts of welcome from the hosts that were assembled in the front
of “Old Harvard.” As the procession passed from Broadway, through
Harvard Square to Main Street, an opportunity was afforded to take
something like a full view of the whole.

It was a magnificent scene as the procession passed from
Broadway to North Avenue, and through the Square. The profusion
of flowers among the military escort, and veterans, the gayly
caparisoned horses of the marshal and his aides, the tall
figure of Col. Richardson, mounted on a splendid charger bowing
his acknowledgments on either hand, the proud bearing of the
veterans, their torn and shot-riddled colors, the throng of
cheering welcomes, the glittering polish of the steam fire
apparatus, decorated with choice flowers, the uniform of the Fire
Department, the larger part wearing scarlet jackets, the long line
of Cavalcade, with their banners,—all combined to make a display
worthy of transfer to canvas as a memorial of the happy day. Here
were seen to great advantage the banners, mottoes, and inscriptions
borne in the procession.

The procession continued through Main Street, toward the City Hall,
passing many elegantly decorated residences, among which that of
the Hon. J. M. S. Williams called forth praise from all observers.
The City Hall was tastefully decorated with bunting. In the centre
of the Main Street front was an architectural display, representing
a Temple, consisting of an arch springing from pillars, on which
were the figures of Victory and Peace. In the arch was the motto
“Emancipation;” and the inscription, “The sun will never rise over
a nation more glorious than ours.” The lower part of the temple
was filled in with blue silk, on which, in letters of gold, was
inscribed “One Country, one Constitution, one Destiny.” Across the
street a line of flags and streamers was suspended.

The members of the City Government and invited guests here took
up their places in the procession, which moved on toward the
Universalist Church. At this point, clouds which for the past half
hour had been gathering overhead, and which it had been hoped would
pass over, and away, commenced to discharge their contents. Many
of the spectators, who had thronged in the vicinity to witness the
countermarch from Columbia to Magazine Street, sought refuge in the
houses and stores, which were thrown open for shelter. With every
minute the violence of the storm increased, drenching every one.

The children, representing the States, were taken for shelter
into Williams Hall, but not before some of them were wet through;
and thereby prevented from fulfilling their part of the programme
of the exercises in the tent,—among which was to have been the
delivery of a beautiful address to the veterans by Miss Nettie
Blake. Mrs. Peters, under whose direction, and by whose patriotic
labors, the design was so far carried out, was deprived of the
reward of her labors in the successful consummation of her designs.
She will doubtless feel compensated in part by the great applause
her troops of pretty ones elicited on the route.

Although the rain poured in torrents, the procession moved on, and
countermarched at Columbia Street up Main Street. Through Magazine
Street passed the procession, the rain still pouring in torrents,
until the head of it reached the tent. The rain gradually ceased,
and before the procession commenced to file into the tent, the sun
came forth in its splendor.

The procession marched around the tent, and entered it at the north
end. Here the selected scholars were seated on raised seats on the
west side, wet through, for the tent had been a poor shelter from
the heavy rain which had fallen. As the veterans entered, they
were received, as elsewhere, with shouts and songs of welcome.
Plates were laid for fourteen hundred guests, and were speedily
turned by that number.

The tent, notwithstanding the rain, presented a cheerful aspect to
the wet and hungry guests. A large tablet presented on one side
the list of twenty-two battles from Fort Sumter to Gettysburg.
On the reverse, another list of twenty-two, from Fort Donaldson
to Richmond. Along the sides, and at the end of the tent, were
mottoes of welcome, and scrolls with the words, “Bisland”—“Cane
River”—“Port Hudson”—“Opequan”—“Winchester”—“Fisher’s Hill,” and
“Cedar Creek,” which recalled the deeds in arms of the gallant
Thirty Eighth.

In obedience to the order of the Mayor, the regiment made an attack
on the refreshment tables, and achieved a complete victory. The
assembly was then called to order, and an eloquent address of
welcome made by Mayor Merrill, which was appropriately responded to
by Lieut.-Col. Richardson. Addresses were also made by ex-Governor
Washburn, ex-Mayor Russell, and Gen. Hincks. But the volunteers, many
of whom lived at a distance, were anxious to reach the homes where
their presence was so eagerly awaited, and the majority took their
leave as soon as the repast was ended. A display of fireworks in the
evening closed the ceremonies of the day.

All honor to Cambridge, who never forgot her soldiers in the field,
and who welcomed them home more warmly than she sent them away.
Many whose citizenship is in other portions of the State will long
remember her deeds, and rejoice at her prosperity.

Warm welcomes were extended to the men from New Bedford, Lynn,
Abington, and other towns, upon their arrival home. Company E was
tendered a public reception by the city authorities of Lynn, but
declined the honor. Abington gave a fine reception to all her
returned soldiers, including those belonging to the Thirty Eighth.

Four months have now passed since the members of the Thirty Eighth
Massachusetts Regiment resumed their duties as citizens. They have
settled in different portions of the country, and are engaged in
all the various branches of civil industry; but not one has brought
discredit upon the fair fame of the regiment, or proved that he is
less capable of being a good citizen because he became a soldier at
the call of the country.

[Illustration: In Memoriam.]

IN MEMORIAM.

Deaths from Battle.

BISLAND, LA.

COMPANY A.

SAMUEL GAULT.
PATRICK J. GILL.
MARCUS O. SULLIVAN.

COMPANY B.

THOMAS GIBSON.
FRANCIS C. SWIFT.

COMPANY D.

GEORGE H. TROW.
JAMES A. LYON.
EUGENE SANGER.
LORENZO TOWER.

COMPANY E.

ALGERNON S. FISHER.

COMPANY G.

JOHN H. CROCKER.
WILBUR SIMMONS.
DANIEL F. SIMMONS.

COMPANY I.

THOMAS W. HEVEY.
JOHN MELLEN.
EDWARD SHANNON.

COMPANY K.

MANTON EVERETT.

PORT HUDSON, MAY 27.

LIEUT.-COLONEL WILLIAM L. RODMAN.

COMPANY B.

JOHN DUCY.
JAMES ENGLISH.

COMPANY F.

JOHN H. TUCKER.

PORT HUDSON, JUNE 14.

COMPANY A.

THOMAS CASSIDY.
GEORGE N. ALLEN.
CHAS. A. CARPENTER.
EDWIN C. PROCTOR.

COMPANY C.

ERASTUS O. PRIOR.

COMPANY D.

WILLIAM A. LEWIS.
ABEL O. STETSON.
ISRAEL H. THRASHER.

COMPANY E.

JAMES C. MCINTIRE.

COMPANY F.

J. FRANK ANGELL.
WILLIAM L. CHAMPNEY.
GEORGE R. BLAKE.
JOSEPH A. MORRIS.
JOHN M. GILCREAS.

COMPANY G.

FREDERIC HOLMES.
SETH GLASS.

COMPANY H.

SILAS C. KENNEY.
AUGUSTUS E. FOSTER.

COMPANY I.

JAMES DOOLEY.
ALBERT T. B. MARTIN.

COMPANY K.

EDWARD DAVID.

PORT HUDSON DURING SIEGE.

COMPANY B.

J. N. FAIRFIELD.

COMPANY E.

ALFRED BACHELLER.

COMPANY F.

JOHN H. DAME.

COMPANY I.

CHARLES H. THAYER.

CANE RIVER.

COMPANY F.

JOHN POWERS.

COMPANY G.

EELEN SAMPSON.

COMPANY I.

JULIUS M. LATHROP.

COMPANY K.

CHARLES G. SHERBURNE.
LEVI C. BROOKS.

RED RIVER.

COMPANY A.

WILLIAM H. LUNT.

OPEQUAN CREEK.

COMPANY A.

JOHN CONNORS.

COMPANY B.

CURTIS HOBBS.
DENNIS WHITE.
DENNIS B. NASH.

COMPANY C.

JOSEPH RIPLEY.

COMPANY D.

ANDREW STETSON.
G. OTIS HUDSON.

COMPANY E.

WILLIAM H. MARSTON.
THEODORE TUCKER.
OWEN HURLEY.
LINDLEY KITCHEN.

COMPANY F.

GEORGE L. BURTON.

COMPANY G.

GEORGE H. PRATT.
JOHN M. WHITING.

COMPANY I.

OLIVER R. WALTON.
GEORGE W. HALL.

COMPANY K.

W. H. DODGE.

FISHER’S HILL.

COMPANY F.

MARTIN G. CHILDS.

CEDAR CREEK.

COMPANY C.

WILLIAM T. EWELL.

COMPANY D.

BELA BATES.

COMPANY F.

CHARLES E. NEALE.

COMPANY H.

JOSEPH H. BLY.

COMPANY K.

ATKINS BROWN.

Deaths from Disease.

SERGT.-MAJOR WALTER W. NOURSE.

COMPANY A.

CHARLES A. HOWARD.
WILLIAM P. HADLEY.
AUGUSTUS A. THURSTON.
JOHN W. BERTWELL.
PATRICK CALLAHAN.
JOHN A. DODGE.
ELIAS W. FARMER.
WILLIAM HARLOW.
THOMAS A. ROPER.
ORRIN SEAVEY.
HIRAM L. THURSTON.

COMPANY B.

MICHAEL T. CROWNING.
CHARLES I. DENTON.
JAMES J. GIBSON.
JOHN HARNEY.
JOSEPH H. HUGHES.
THOMAS MARONEY.
FRANCIS MCQUADE.
MICHAEL MURPHY.
MARTIN O’BRIEN.
JOHN MADDEN.

COMPANY C.

JOHN F. STEINGARDT, JR.
JAMES A. OSBORNE.
GEORGE E. BEAL.
CHARLES L. BALDWIN.
ALLSON BICKNELL.
BRINE DOWNEY.
CALVIN C. ELLIS.
ANDREW W. FISH.
MORTON E. HILL.
JOHN HUDSON.
WILLIAM W. KNOWLES.
JOSEPH MERROWS.
HENRY C. MILLETT.
NATHAN M. STEWART.
CHARLES H. WALKER.

COMPANY D.

JAMES A. BOWEN.
BENJAMIN F. DURGIN.
DANIEL P. ARNOLD.
STEPHEN BATES.
BERTRAND BURGESS.
CHARLES E. DYER.
JOSEPH B. FISH.
MYRON GOULD.
ANDREW M. HYLAND.
JAMES KINGMAN.
JULIUS W. MONROE.
WILLIAM O’BRIEN.
SILAS N. PETERSON.
BRADFORD SAMPSON.
HIRAM F. STEVENS.

COMPANY E.

LEMUEL J. GOVE.
BENJAMIN F. INGALLS.
MORRIS M. KEITH.
ROBERT R. BECKFORD.
WOODBRIDGE BRYANT.
JAMES BIRMINGHAM.
PHILO CARVER.
BARNABAS F. CLARK.
HENRY H. FULLER.
SAMUEL E. HEATH.
SAMUEL E. LUSCOMB.
WILLIAM T. PHILLIPS.
HENRY K. WHITE.
JAMES WALTER.
PATRICK O’NEILL.

COMPANY F.

H. ORLANDO GALE.
LEVI LANGLEY.
WILLIAM S. COPP.
HERMAN J. CLARK.
JAMES H. DUHIG.
JAMES GOLDEN.
JOHN T. GOWEN.
ALFRED JENNINGS.
HENRY H. KENISTON.
WARREN KENNISTON.
CHARLES PARKER.
DAVID SHATTELS.
ABNER SMITH.
ALPHEUS SPAULDING.
WILLIAM L. STEVENS.
CHARLES WHITE.

COMPANY G.

JOSIAH E. ATWOOD.
FRANCIS B. DORR.
WILLIAM A. HATHAWAY.
MELZAR A. FOSTER.
D. OTIS TOTMAN.
JOHN BREACH.
GEORGE E. BATES.
WILLIAM BAILEY.
SETH K. BAILEY.
CHARLES J. CHANDLER.
EDWARD E. GREEN.
THOMAS HALEY.
LEMUEL B. FAUNCE, JR.
WARREN S. LITCHFIELD.
JAMES MCSHERRY.
WILLIAM PERRY.
OTIS SEARS.
BENNET SOULE.

COMPANY H.

LEANDER A. TRIPP.
PETER C. BROOKS.
GEORGE E. HAWES.
EDWIN R. POOL.
BARTHOLOMEW AIKEN.
WILLIAM BENTLY.
HIRAM B. BONNEY.
SAMUEL E. DEAN.
TIMOTHY F. DOTY.
JOHN DUNLAP.
GEORGE W. FISH.
JEHIEL FISH.
JAMES HOLMES.
BENJAMIN JENKS.
EZRA S. JONES.
SHUBAL ELDRIDGE, JR.
CHARLES G. KIMPTON.
ALONZO W. LEACH.
HORACE E. LEWIS.
WALTER T. NYE.
JASON S. PECKHAM.
WILLIAM PITTSLEY.
JOSHUA ROACH.
JAMES RYAN.

COMPANY I.

NEWELL BARBER.
JAMES FARRY.
SAMUEL FARRY.
EDWIN HAYWARD.
GILBERT H. LELAND.
GEORGE H. STONE.
OTIS TUCKER.

COMPANY K.

GEORGE T. MARTIN.
JAMES H. PIKE.
EDWARD L. SARGENT.
JOSHUA E. BATES.
ROBERT AMES.
ALBERT E. BATES.
JAMES W. FISH.
ANDREW W. HATCH.
WM. F. HARRINGTON.
GEORGE R. JOSSELYN.
BENJAMIN LYNDE.
LEONARD F. MILLER.
GEORGE E. RICHARDSON.
DAVID Y. MIXER.
FREEMAN A. RAMSDELL.
ARTHUR B. SHEPARD.
JOSIAH STODDARD.

[Illustration: Regimental Roll.]

ROLL OF THE REGIMENT.

FIELD AND STAFF.

COLONELS.

Timothy Ingraham, New Bedford.
In command of 3d brigade, and afterward of 1st Brigade, 2d
Division, 19th Corps, in winter and spring of 1863; on detached
service as Provost Marshal in Washington, D. C., from Sept.
1863, being detained in service after the muster-out of the regiment,
and brevetted as Brigadier-General.

LIEUTENANT-COLONELS.

David K. Wardwell, Boston.
Resigned Dec. 3, 1862; afterward in Veteran Reserve Corps.

William L. Rodman, New Bedford.
Commissioned Lieut.-Colonel, Dec. 4, 1862; killed at Port Hudson,
May 27, 1863.

James P. Richardson, Cambridge.
Promoted Major, Dec. 4, 1862; Lieut.-Colonel, July 13, 1863; in
command of 3d Brigade, 2d Division, 19th Corps, May, 1864,
Jan., Feb., and March, 1865; wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept.
19, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

MAJORS.

David K. Wardwell, Boston.
Promoted Lieut.-Colonel.

William L. Rodman, New Bedford.
Promoted Lieut.-Colonel.

James P. Richardson, Cambridge.
Promoted Lieut.-Colonel.

Charles F. Allen, Abington.
Promoted Major, July 16, 1863; Provost Marshal at Baton Rouge,
La., from October, 1863, to summer of 1864, and at Augusta, Ga.,
1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

SURGEONS

Samuel C. Hartwell, Southbridge.
Resigned on account of disability, March 2, 1864.

Edwin F. Ward, Worcester.
Promoted to Surgeon, April 27, 1864; in charge of hospital at Port
Hudson, and at Winchester, Va.; on detached service in Shenandoah
Valley, in spring and summer of 1864; mustered out, July,
1865.

ASSISTANT-SURGEONS.

Edwin P. Ward, Worcester.
Promoted to Surgeon.

George F. Thompson, Belchertown.
Discharged, Oct. 26, 1864, to accept commission as Surgeon in 11th
Massachusetts Volunteers; afterward Surgeon in Frontier Cavalry.

ADJUTANTS.

Frank W. Loring, Boston.
On staff of Gen. Emory during campaign in Louisiana, 1863; afterward
on detached service; discharged from regiment, May 26,
1864.

Edward G. Dyke, Cambridge.
Appointed Adjutant, from 2d Lieutenant, Company F, Feb. 8, 1863;
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, March 4, 1863; discharged, to accept
commission as Captain in U. S. Volunteer service, May 18, 1865;
mustered out, 1865.

Austin C. Wellington, Cambridge.
Appointed Acting Adjutant from 1st Sergeant, Company F, August,
1864. Sergeant Wellington was commissioned 2d Lieutenant,
Nov. 21, 1863, 1st Lieutenant, Sept. 16, 1864; and Adjutant, July,
1865; but, the regiment being reduced in numbers below the
standard required by the War Department for a full complement
of officers, could not be mustered, and, after having participated
in every engagement, was mustered out, July, 1865.

QUARTERMASTERS.

Elijah Swift, Falmouth.
Detailed on brigade and division staffs, as A. A. Q. M., and absent
from regiment from its arrival in Gulf Department until its departure
from Savannah; mustered out, July, 1865.

Nathan Russell, Jr., Cambridge.
Promoted from 1st Lieutenant, July 1, 1864; wounded at Port
Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

NON-COMMISSIONED STAFF.

SERGEANT-MAJORS.

Timothy Ingraham, New Bedford.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant.

Frederic D. Holmes, Plymouth.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant.

Walter Nourse, Cambridge.
Promoted from 1st Sergeant, Company F, Jan. 4, 1863; died at
Carrollton, La., of typhoid fever, March 3, 1863.

James T. Davis, Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant.

Albert F. Billiard, New Bedford.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant.

Horatio E. Macomber, Lynn.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant.

John H. Butler, Cambridge.
Promoted from Sergeant, Company F, Nov. 15, 1863: wounded at
Cane River; commissioned as 2d, and again as 1st Lieutenant,
but not mustered; mustered out, June, 1865.

QUARTERMASTER-SERGEANTS.

William Richardson, Newton.
Discharged for disability, at Hampton, Va., Jan. 3, 1863.

George H. Prior, Cambridge.
Appointed from Company F, May 28, 1864; mustered out, July,
1865.

COMMISSARY-SERGEANTS.

Israel B. Nelson, Cambridge.
Discharged.

James W. Davis, Falmouth.
Appointed from Company H, Feb. 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

HOSPITAL STEWARD.

Amasa D. Ward, Worcester.
Mustered out, June, 1865.

PRINCIPAL MUSICIAN.

Albert T. Finney, Plymouth.
Promoted principal Musician, from Company G, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Charles Monroe, Cambridge.
Promoted principal Musician from Musician Company F, Jan. 1,
1864; mustered out, June, 1865.

COMPANY A.

CAPTAINS.

J. P. Richardson, Cambridge.
Promoted Major, Dec. 4, 1862.

Samuel Gault, Boston.
Promoted Captain, and transferred from Co. K, Dec. 4, 1862; killed
at battle of Bisland, Apr. 13, 1863.

William H. Jewell, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, Jan. 4, 1863; Captain, March 8, 1863;
injured by shell at battle of Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1863; mustered
out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Arthur Hodges, Cambridge.
Promoted Captain, April 14, 1863, and transferred to Co. K.

Albert F. Bullard, New Bedford.
Appointed from Sergeant-major; transferred to Co. E.

SERGEANTS.

William H. Whitney, Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieut., March 4, 1863, and appointed to Co. E.

George H. Copeland, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, Sept. 5, 1862; 1st Sergeant, March 5, 1863;
wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; promoted 2d Lieutenant,
July 16, 1863; 1st Lieut., May 1, 1864, and transferred to Co. K.

Calvin C. Smith, Cambridge.
Discharged at Opelousas, La., May 3, 1863.

William P. Hadley, Cambridge.
Died, at Brashear City, La., June 10, 1863.

Charles A. Howard, Boston.
Died, at Carrollton, La., of typhoid fever, Feb. 4, 1863.

Isaac Fellows, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, March 5, 1863; 1st Sergeant, April 30, 1864;
wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863, and at Opequan Creek,
Sept. 19, 1864; discharged at Philadelphia, May 17, 1865.

Samuel Sennot, Cambridge.
Promoted to Corporal, Feb. 4, 1863; Sergeant, March 24, 1863;
wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged at Boston,
April 26, 1864.

John McClintock, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, March 26, 1864; 1st
Serg., May 18, 1865; wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863;
rec. com. as lieut., but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph W. Smith, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, March 26, 1864; wounded
at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles H. Titus, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 5, 1862; Sergeant, July 1, 1863; discharged
at Baton Rouge, La., Feb. 14, 1864, to accept a commission
in the Corps d’Afrique.

William A. Tarbell, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 24, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1864; on
colors from Sept. 26, 1864; received commission as lieutenant,
but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph R. Messer, Cambridge.
Promoted to Corporal, Feb. 4, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1864;
wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; must. out, July, 1865.

George A. L. Snow, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 24, 1863; Sergeant, May 18, 1865;
wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

George W. Belcher, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 4, 1863.

William G. Boyson, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, May 8, 1864; lost leg at capture of Mobile.

Daniel R. Melcher, Cambridge.
Transferred to 1st Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 4, 1863; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Augustus A. Thurston, Cambridge.
Died at General Hospital at Berwick City, La., May 22, 1863.

Llewellyn P. Davis, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 25, 1862; discharged at Carrollton, La.,
Feb. 14, 1863.

Thomas Cassidy, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 5, 1863; died at Baton Rouge, La., June
28, 1863, of wounds received at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Solomon N. Busnach, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, June
14, 1863; on colors from April, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

John C. Lang, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal July 1, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, June
14, 1863; discharged at Boston, Nov. 12, 1863, for disability.

John F. Mead, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 25, 1862; discharged at Baton Rouge,
La., Oct. 14, 1863, to accept a commission in the Corps d’Afrique.

James M. Mason, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Feb. 14, 1864; absent sick in hospital at
Savannah, Ga.; returned home in Aug. 1865.

Ewen R. McPherson, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Feb. 14, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward A. Hammond, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Feb. 14, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry H. Abbott, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1864; wounded at Bisland, April 13,
1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles H. Laws, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1864; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek,
Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, and mustered out, July, 1865.

David M. Smith, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1864; absent sick at Newbern, N. C.;
returned home in September, 1865.

Henry L. Ward, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIAN.

George H. Merrill, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La.

WAGONER.

Elias W. Farmer, Cambridge.
Died at General Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., Oct. 31, 1863.

PRIVATES.

George N. Allen, Cambridge.
Died at Theatre Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 21, 1863.

Henry C. Bandell, Cambridge.
Lost left arm at battle of Bisland, La., April 13, 1863; discharge
at New Orleans, La., Aug. 5, 1863.

Patrick Brady, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., Aug. 3, 1863.

John D. Bertwell, Cambridge.
Died at General Hospital, Berwick City, La.

William L. Baker, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George F. Bicknell, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John H. Childs, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Lewis C. Clark, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles A. Carpenter, Cambridge.
Killed at Port Hudson, La. June 14, 1863.

Patrick Callahan, Cambridge.
Died at Brashear City, La., May 25, 1863.

John Connors, Cambridge.
Killed at battle of Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864.

Bernard Casey, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Phillip Cartwright, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Samuel Cartwright, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Feb. 14, 1863.

Samuel Dias, Cambridge.
Absent, sick in Mass.

John P. Davidson, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, Nov. 17, 1863.

Frank S. Dame, Cambridge.
On detached service in commissary department from arrival at
Baltimore until June, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

John A. Dodge, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans, La., April 17, 1863.

William Friend, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

John Gunnulson, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James M. Goodwillie, Cambridge.
Discharged at Washington, D. C, Oct. 27, 1862.

Patrick J. Gill, Cambridge.
Killed at Battle of Bisland, La.

Jeremiah Grehan, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas Gamble, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865; in commissary department from arrival
of regiment in Baltimore until mustered out, July, 1865.

John Gerry, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July 1865.

James G. Hunt, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, May 29, 1863.

Benjamin F. Hastings, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged at
Boston, Sept. 9, 1863.

Warren A. Hersey, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William Harlow, Cambridge.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa, Feb. 6, 1864.

William C. Jones, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, July 4, 1863.

Samuel R. Knights, Cambridge.
Discharged at Carrollton, La., Feb. 5, 1862; result of sprain.

John Kelley, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July 1865.

William G. Laws, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James M. Lewis, Cambridge.
Transferred to Vet. Res. Corps, April 22, 1864.

William H. Lunt, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; killed by Guerillas while
on passage up Red River, La., April 13, 1864.

John Menix, Cambridge.
Transferred to 1st Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 4, 1863; re-transferred
to regiment, Aug. 23, 1864; not present at muster out.

Robert Milligan, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Nov. 19, 1862.

William A. May, Cambridge.
Discharged at Fortress Monroe, Va., Jan. 7, 1863.

Charles F. Moody, Cambridge.
Wounded at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; discharged, May 22, 1865.

William N. Megroth, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John F. Newell, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George H. Noyes, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Edwin C. Proctor, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans, La., July 27, 1863, of wounds, received at
Port Hudson, June 14, 1863.

Frank F. Pullen, Cambridge.
Transferred to 3d Mass. Cavalry, July 4, 1863.

John Peters, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, July 4, 1863.

Alvin F. Prescott, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Austin Qualey, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 4, 1863.

James A. Reid, Cambridge.
Discharged at Convalescent Camp, near Washington, D. C, Feb.
3, 1863.

Thomas H. Roper, Cambridge.
Died at General Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., April 18, 1863.

George W. Stafford, Cambridge.
Taken prisoner at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864; paroled, mustered
out, July, 1865.

Bartholomew Sullivan, Cambridge.

John Sullivan, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., June 30, 1863; dropsy.

Marcus O. Sullivan, Cambridge,
Died at Brashear City, La., May 7, 1863, of wounds received in
battle of Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Orrin Seavey, Cambridge.
Died at Brashear City, La., June 1, 1863.

Hiram L. Thurston, Cambridge.
Died at General Hospital at Washington, D. C., Aug. 19, 1864.

George T. Tucker, Cambridge.
Acting Hospital Steward; discharged at New Orleans, La., July 17,
1863; died at New Orleans, La., Aug. 13, 1863.

John Talbot, Cambridge.
Taken prisoner at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; died in Salisbury.

Charles E. Warren, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged, May 22, 1865.

Emmett Weeks, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 1, 1863.

John H. Walker, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James C. Wilder, Cambridge.
Acting Hospital Steward; Mail Agent and Mail Messenger; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Charles D. Whitney, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, July 19, 1864.

Joseph W. Welch, Cambridge.
Discharged at Washington, D. C., Sept. 9, 1864.

John E. William, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 23, 1863.

Richard H. Young, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 4, 1864.

Charles W. Damon, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, May 8, 1864.

John Sanborn, Boston.
Joined, Feb. 10, 1865; transferred to 26th Mass., June 25, 1865.

Dura Wadsworth, Gardner, Mass.
Joined, Aug. 20, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass., June 25, 1865.

Joshua Jones (colored under-cook), Baton Rouge, La.
Transferred to 26th Mass., June 25, 1865.

COMPANY B.

CAPTAIN.

J. Henry Wyman, Cambridge.
Injured by shell at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged for
disability, Oct. 25, 1864.

LIEUTENANTS.

Frank N. Scott, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, Aug. 16, 1864.

James N. Bennett, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, April 17, 1863; Captain, Oct. 14, 1863;
transferred to Co. C; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles Mason, Plymouth.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, March 1, 1863; commissioned as 1st
Lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Albert Jackson, Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, April 17, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson,
June 14, 1863; resigned, March, 1864.

SERGEANTS.

James Chapman, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, May 4, 1863.

B. Richard Edgeworth, Cambridge.
Absent sick at muster out of regiment.

Nathaniel Wentworth, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, July 1, 1863; received commission, but not
mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry C. Hobbs, Cambridge.
Wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; received commission,
but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas McIntire, Jr., Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, July, 1863; wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept.
19, 1864; discharged.

Curtis Hobbs, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, Sept. 1, 1863; killed at Opequan Creek, Sept.
19, 1864.

Patrick Murphy, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 15, 1863; Sergeant, March 1, 1865;
mustered out, July, 1865.

William Chapman, Jr., Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, March 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Andrew Jackson, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, March 1, 1865; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Nathaniel P. Low, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 1, 1862; Sergeant, July 1, 1863; discharged,
Aug. 4, 1863.

CORPORALS.

Charles A. Austin, Cambridge.
Detailed at Gallop’s Island, from Aug. 1863; discharged, June, 1865.

Charles D. Challies, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 24, 1863.

Chester M. Davis, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged at Boston for
disability, Sept. 8, 1863.

Emerson Butler, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 19, 1863; discharged from hospital at
Baltimore, Md., May 3, 1863.

Thomas Briny, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1865; sick in hospital at muster out
of regiment; returned home afterward.

James Stinson, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William P. Davis, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., May 10, 1863, for disability.

James Cook, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

James O’Brien, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865;
re-enlisted in Regular Army.

Thomas Gulliver, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, May 3, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

WAGONER.

Moses Ricker, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., Sept. 20, 1863, for disability.

PRIVATES.

James Anderson, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, May, 1864, for disability.

John H. Banfield, Cambridge.
Discharged at Augusta, Me., Nov. 14, 1863, for disability.

Antro Baderschneider, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Melville C. Beedle, Cambridge.
Discharged at Hilton Head, June 8, 1865, for disability.

Edwin A. Black, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, 1865.

Terence Conlan, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Terence Conlan, 2d, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Dec. 27, 1862.

Dixwell H. Clark, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Nov. 28, 1862.

Michael T. Croning, Cambridge.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek; died in Salisbury, N.C., Dec. 6, 1864.

Charles T. Denton, Cambridge.
Died in hospital at Brashear City, May 31, 1863.

William Dearing, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability at New Orleans, La., Feb. 28, 1863.

Florence Driscoll, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Donahue, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Michael Cullerton, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

John Ducy, Cambridge.
Killed at Port Hudson, May 27, 1863.

J. P. Doyle, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., 1863.

James English, Cambridge.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., —— 1863, of wounds received at Port
Hudson, May 27, 1863.

James M. Fairfield, Cambridge.
Killed at Port Hudson, June 2, 1863.

Lawrence Fallon, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Patrick Gallagher, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George O. Grant, Cambridge.
Transferred to 1st Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 4, 1863.

Hugh Gray, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Eben T. Gulliver, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, in Louisiana, March 27, 1863.

James J. Gibson, Cambridge.
Died in hospital at Baton Rouge, La., March 21, 1863.

Thomas Gibson, Cambridge.
Killed at Bisland, April 13, 1863.

William Goggin, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Michael A. Gready, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged for disability,
at Boston, Aug. 18, 1863.

William Hoylet, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Philip Hardenburg, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Harney, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans, La., June 4, 1863.

Michael Harney, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, Louisiana, May 13, 1863.

Timothy D. Hill, Cambridge.
Discharged at Louisiana, Aug. 24, 1863.

Joseph H. Hughes, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans La., May 21, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Martin Innis, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Harney H. Johnson, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, May, 1864.

Charles Larrabee, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, July 1, 1864.

Matthew Manning, Cambridge.
Wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; mustered out, July,
1865.

Thomas Maroney, Cambridge.
Died, May 20, 1863, at Ship Island.

Daniel J. Madden, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, Sept. 2, 1863.

John Madden, Cambridge.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., July, 1863, of wounds received at Port
Hudson, May 27, 1863.

Patrick McAleer, Cambridge.
Discharged at Hampton, Va., for disability, March 8, 1863.

Owen McGuire, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John McQuade, Cambridge.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Francis McQuade, Cambridge.
Died on board transport on Mississippi River, while going home on
furlough.

Terence Monahan, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability, Sept. 28, 1863.

Thomas McGovern, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July,
1865.

Michael Murphy, Cambridge.
Died at Brashear City, May 25, 1863.

Israel P. Nelson, Cambridge.
Discharged for disability at Louisiana, Feb. 10, 1863.

Dennis B. Nash, Cambridge.
Died of wounds received at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

George Nixon, Cambridge.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; sick in hospital at
Readville, Mass., at muster out of regiment.

Martin O’Brien, Cambridge.
Died in hospital at Baton Rouge, La., March 6, 1863.

Michael O’Brien, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John H. Ready, Cambridge.
Shot at Savannah while on duty, by provost guard, 1865.

Dwight C. Robbins, Cambridge.
Mustered out, June, 1865.

John Scott, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged for disability,
July 22, 1864.

Francis C. Swift, Cambridge.
Died at Brashear City of wounds received at Bisland, April 13,
1863.

Patrick Sweeny, Cambridge.
Wounded at Bisland; discharged at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Michael Smith, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, May 27; discharged at Louisiana.

Timothy Twohig, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; transferred to Veteran
Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

David Tobin, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Dennis White, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, May 27, 1863; died at Winchester, Va.,
Sept. 21, of wounds received at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

Joseph L. White, Cambridge.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

Asa Worcester, Cambridge.
Sick in hospital at Washington, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward Conlan, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Dec. 15, 1863; promoted Corporal, March 1, 1865;
transferred to Twenty Sixth Massachusetts, June, 1865.

Timothy Crowley, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Dec. 15, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

Thomas Dempsey, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Jan. 18, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

Michael M. Egan, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Jan. 30, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

Mark Fallon, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Dec. 10, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

James Hogan, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Dec. 10, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

John Johnson, Boston.
Enlisted, Jan. 9, 1865; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

Patrick Riley, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Nov. 30, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

COLORED COOKS.

Robert H. Sands, Baton Rouge.
Enlisted Nov. 15, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

Paul Gibbs, Baton Rouge.
Enlisted, Nov. 15, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

COMPANY C.

CAPTAINS.

Charles F. Allen, Abington.
Promoted Major, July 16, 1863.

George N. Bennett, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. C, April 18, 1863;
promoted Captain, Oct. 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Timothy Reed, Abington.
Promoted Captain, and appointed to Co. D, Nov. 1, 1862.

Albert Mason, Plymouth.
Promoted 1st Lieut., and appointed to Co. C, Oct. 14, 1863;
transferred to Co. G, April 23, 1863; re-transferred to Co. C, Jan.
7, 1864; mustered out, May 23, 1864, to accept a commission as A.
Q. M. U. S. Volunteers.

William H. Whitney, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. C, Oct. 14, 1863;
transferred to Co. G, Jan. 7, 1864.

Francis A. Nash, Abington.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. F, March 3, 1863.

Jerome Washburn, Plymouth.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. C, March 8, 1863;
resigned, Jan. 24, 1864.

SERGEANTS.

James E. Bates, Abington.
Received commission as lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Joseph W. Caton, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; paroled; received
commission as lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out, July,
1865.

Ebenezer G. Tuttle, Abington.
Discharged at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., July 9, 1863, for
disability.

William T. Ewell, Abington.
Died, Oct. 27, 1864, of wounds, received in action at Cedar Creek,
Oct. 19, 1864.

John F. Steingardt, Jr., East Bridgewater.
Promoted Sergeant, March 10, 1863; died, Sept. 2, 1863, at Baton
Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Henry W. Powers, Abington.
Promoted Sergeant, July 17, 1863; wounded in action at Cedar
Creek, Va., Oct. 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

John E. Bickford, Abington.
Promoted Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas F. Whiting, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, March 10, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

Nathaniel O. Holbrook, Abington.
Discharged at University Hospital, New Orleans, La., June 7, 1863,
for disability.

Erastus O. Prior, Abington.
Died, June 19, 1863, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
wounds received in action, June 14, 1863, at Port Hudson.

Ephraim T. Cole, Abington.
Discharged, July 2, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., for
disability.

Lysander Teague, Abington.
Discharged, Dec. 27, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

William H. Fullerton, Bridgewater.
Absent sick since April 20, 1864, in U. S. General Hospital,
Readville, Mass.

Edward C. Alden, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, March 10, 1863; on detached service at Boston
Harbor.

Charles D. Nash, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, July 2, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

James A. Osborne, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864;
died, Jan. 23, 1865, at Salisbury, N. C., of diarrhœa.

Edwin R. Robbins, Abington.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June, 14, 1863; promoted Corporal,
July 2, 1863; wounded in action at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19,
1864; absent sick at muster out of regiment.

Edwin Ripley, Abington.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; promoted Corporal,
July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Miles Sampson, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, July 2, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry W. Peirce, Abington.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIANS.

John A. Healey, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William H. Bicknell, Abington.
Discharged, March 4, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La.

WAGONER.

Samuel H. McKenny, Abington.
Discharged, Nov. 18, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

PRIVATES.

Calvin W. Allen, Abington.
Discharged, June, 7, 1863, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

David B. Bates, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles Bates, Abington.
Wounded at Bisland, April 13, 1863; transferred to Veteran Reserve
Corps, April 30, 1864.

Edwin Bates, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; absent sick in
Hospital, Alexandria, Va., at muster out of regiment.

Benjamin K. Barrett, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Daniel W. Beal, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George E. Beal, Abington.
Died, Feb. 16, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
typhoid fever.

David F. Barry, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James Bailey, Abington.
Wounded in action, Sept. 19, 1864, at Winchester, Va.; mustered
out, May 26, 1865.

Ira B. Baldwin, Abington.
Wounded in action at Fisher’s Hill, Va., Sept. 22, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Charles L. Baldwin, Abington.
Died, May 4, 1863, at Brashear City, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Allson Bicknell, Abington.
Died, April 14, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
chronic diarrhœa.

Charles Bushnell, Abington.
Discharged, Feb. 16, 1863, at Fairfax Seminary Hospital, Alexandria,
Va., for disability.

Josiah G. Cook, Abington.
Sick in U. S. Gen. Hospital at Smithville, N. C., at muster out
of regiment.

James H. Corthell, Swanzey.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Daniel M. Corthell, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Frank Carney, Abington.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, May 31, 1864.

Samuel G. Capen, Abington.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, May 31, 1864.

Edward L. Dyer, Abington.
Discharged, July 9, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Brine Downey, Abington.
Died, June 21, 1863, at Arsenal Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., of
typhoid fever.

Frederick Donovan, Abington.
Discharged, Oct. 19, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

James H. Edson, Abington.
Discharged Nov. 10, 1862, at Convalescent Camp, Fort McHenry,
Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Jason Ellis, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Calvin C. Ellis, Abington.
Died, June 23, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
chronic diarrhœa.

George Elmes, Abington.
Transferred to Louisiana Cavalry; re-transferred to Co. C; mustered
out, July, 1865.

James Finnigan, Abington.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

Charles H. French, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Hiram Foster, Abington.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Andrew W. Fish, Abington.
Died, August 3, 1863, at Arsenal Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., of
chronic diarrhœa.

Andrew H. Gurney, Abington.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Morton E. Hill, Abington.
Died, April 13, 1863, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
pneumonia.

John Hudson, Abington.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; died, Nov. 3, 1863,
at East Bridgewater, Mass., of chronic diarrhœa.

Nathaniel T. Howland, Abington.
Discharged, Jan. 23, 1865, at Judiciary Square Hospital, D. C., for
disability, caused by wounds received April 13, 1864.

George H. Howe, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Isaac Hopkins, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William W. Knowles, Abington.
Died, June 3, 1863, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
chronic diarrhœa.

George B. Lovewell, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; paroled; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Seth W. Mitchell, Abington.
Discharged, Jan. 13, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Joseph Merrows, Abington.
Died, Jan. 26, 1863, at Carrollton, La., of typhoid fever.

George W. Manchester, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry C. Millett, Abington.
Died, July 8, 1863, at Church Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., of
typho malarial fever.

Elijah G. Morris, Abington.
Discharged, June 14, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Dennis McGill, Abington.
Transferred to Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 3, 1863.

Edward E. Nash, Abington.
Discharged, June 20, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Harrison O. F. Newton, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph E. Prouty, Hanson.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Perrigan W. Pool, Abington.
Wounded in action at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; in U. S.
Gen. Hospital, Readville, Mass., at muster out of regiment.

Daniel W. Powers, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Jonathan Perry, Abington.
Discharged, Nov. 15, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Joshua L. Perkins, Abington.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; taken prisoner at
Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; mustered out previous to regiment.

David F. Phillips, Abington.
Discharged, Nov. 3, 1863, at Boston, Mass., for disability.

Joseph W. Randall, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; sick in U. S. Gen.
Hospital, Readville, Mass., at muster out of regiment.

Isaac Ramsdell, Hanson.
Discharged, Nov. 29, 1862, at Boston, Mass., for disability.

Philemon W. Ramsdell, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Alvin Rice, Abington.
Discharged, Jan. 18, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Joseph Ripley, Abington.
Died, Oct. 9, 1864, at Winchester, Va., of wounds received in action
Sept. 19, 1864.

John Sampson, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Benjamin Steingardt, Abington.
Discharged, Nov. 17, 1863, at Boston, Mass., for disability.

Daniel N. E. Steingardt, Bridgewater.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph A. Steingardt, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Gibbens Sharp, Easton.
Lost leg at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; discharged, March 28,
1865, at Broad and Cherry Street Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa.

Simeon Sharpe, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry A. Soper, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Nathan M. Stewart, Abington.
Died, August 7, 1864, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
chronic diarrhœa.

Levi A. Swain, Abington.
Discharged, Dec. 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

James N. Sullivan, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas H. Thorpe, Abington.
Discharged, Feb. 14, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

Thomas Taylor, Boston.
Discharged, June 18, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Peter Talbot, Abington.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Jan. 15, 1864.

Newton Townsend, Abington.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Joseph Trust, Abington.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James H. Willey, Abington.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

Charles H. Walker, Abington.
Died, Aug. 21, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Ezra E. Washburn, Jr., Abington.
Discharged, Nov. 23, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., to accept a
commission in Corps d’Afrique.

James Buchanan, Beverly.
Enlisted while regiment was in service; transferred to 26th
Massachusetts, June 25, 1865.

James L. House, Boston.
Enlisted while regiment was in service; transferred to 26th
Massachusetts, June 25, 1865.

COLORED UNDER-COOKS.

Edward Nugent, Baton Rouge, La.
Killed, May 3, 1864, on Red River, at capture of steamer “City
Belle.”

Reuben Nugent, Baton Rouge, La.
Transferred to 26th Massachusetts, June 25, 1865.

COMPANY D.

CAPTAINS.

Timothy Reed, Abington.
Promoted Captain, and transferred from Co. C, Nov. 1, 1862;
discharged March 4, 1863.

Charles C. Howland, New Bedford.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, March 8, 1863; promoted Captain, and
transferred from Company H, Oct. 14, 1863; received sun-stroke
on march to Clinton, June, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Albert Mason, Plymouth.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Company C, Nov. 1,
1862; mustered out, May 23, 1864, to accept Commission as A. Q.
M. U. S. Vols.

George B. Russell, Plymouth.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, Dec. 4, 1862; transferred from Co. G to Co.
D, March 4, 1863; promoted Captain and appointed to Co. G,
Nov. 1, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Cephas Washburn, Kingston.
Resigned March 4, 1863, on account of disability.

Timothy Ingraham, Jr., New Bedford.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant Co. D, Nov. 1, 1862; transferred to Co.
H., April 30, 1863; wounded by guerillas on passage up Red
River, April 13, 1864; on detached service in Washington at
muster out of regiment.

Morton D. Mitchell, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant Co. I., Nov. 1, 1862; resignation accepted
March 23, 1863; died on passage home.

Charles Mason, Plymouth.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, March 1, 1863; commissioned as 1st
Lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

SERGEANTS.

Francis C. Hill, Kingston.
Discharged, Nov. 17, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Charles Everson, Kingston.
Discharged, Aug. 11, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Solomon E. Faunce, Plymouth.
Discharged, Jan. 15, 1863, at Stewart’s Hospital, Baltimore, Md.,
for disability.

James A. Bowen, Plymouth.
Promoted Sergeant, Jan. 15, 1863; 1st Sergeant, Nov. 17, 1863;
died, June 7, 1864, at Morganza, La., of fever.

Andrew J. Stetson, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1862; killed in action, Sept. 19, 1864,
at Winchester, Va.; wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863.

Joseph Smith, Hanson.
Promoted Sergeant, Feb. 27, 1863; discharged, March 9, 1864, at
Baton Rouge, La., to accept a commission in Corps d’Afrique.

Arthur S. Byrnes, Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 8, 1862; Sergeant, Sept. 1, 1863; 1st
Sergeant, June 7, 1864; received a commission but not mustered;
mustered out, July, 1865.

Billings Merritt, Hingham.
Promoted Corporal, Feb. 27, 1863; Sergeant, Nov. 17, 1863; mustered
out, July, 1865.

James L. Keith, Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 1, 1863; Sergeant, March 4, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Leonard F. Gammons, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 1, 1863; Sergeant, June 7, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

Alonzo L. Holmes, Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 1, 1863; on colors; Sergeant, June 1,
1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

Edmund W. Nutter, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, May 26, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

George L. Faxon, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, Jan. 14, 1864, at New Orleans, La., to accept a
commission in the U. S. C. T.

Albert Harden, Bridgewater.
Discharged at Mower Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa., May 25, 1865, for
disability.

Bernard T. Quinn, Plymouth.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Jan. 18, 1865.

Seth P. Gurney, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 22, 1862; discharged at Hilton Head, June
8, 1865, for disability.

George H. Trow, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 1, 1862; killed in action, April 13, 1863,
at Bisland, La.

Benjamin F. Durgin, Plymouth.
Promoted Corporal, Dec. 1862; died in Convalescent Hospital,
Baton Rouge, Aug. 8, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Patrick Smith, Kingston.
Promoted Corporal, April 13, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 4; discharged, Oct. 22, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Nahum F. Harden, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 17, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

John Studley, Cohasset.
Promoted Corporal, March 4, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

James E. Barrows, Plymouth.
Promoted Corporal, June 7, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas O. Hayden, Cohasset.
Promoted Corporal, June 1, 1865; wounded at Opequan Creek,
Sept. 19, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Frank G. Parker, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, June 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIANS.

Francis Bates, Plymouth.
Discharged, Jan. 30, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Thomas Gallagher, Plymouth.
Discharged, Sept. 2, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

PRIVATES.

John C. Ames, Hanson.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Daniel P. Arnold, Cohasset.
Died, Oct. 31, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Edward H. Arnold, Cohasset.
Discharged, Nov. 28, 1862, at Stewart’s Hospital, Baltimore, Md.,
for disability.

George Arnold, Cohasset.
Discharged, May 20, 1863, at Fortress Monroe, Va., for disability.

Alfred Barrows, Pembroke.
Discharged, Feb. 7, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Bela Bates, Cohasset.
Missing in action, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar Creek; probably killed.

Gustavus D. Bates, Plymouth.
Discharged, Aug. 5, 1863, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Stephen Bates, Hanson.
Died, May 21, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Jacob D. Bonney, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, Feb. 14, 1865, at Satterlee Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa.,
for disability.

Ichabod Bosworth, Hanson.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry Brown, Kingston.
Discharged, July 13, 1864, at New Orleans, La., to enter the Navy.

Charles A. Byrant, Pembroke.
Discharged, March 20, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Bertrand Burgess, E. Bridgewater.
Died, March 20, 1864, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., of
scarlet fever.

George T. Chandler, Duxbury.
Discharged, Feb. 15, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Henry O. Chandler, Swansea.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged, Feb. 16,
1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Joseph H. Cook, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, Nov. 23, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Joshua Cook, E. Bridgewater.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles W. Denham, Pembroke.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles E. Dyer, E. Bridgewater.
Died, Nov. 15, 1862, at Chesapeake Hospital, Fortress Monroe, Va.,
of typhoid fever.

George H. Fish, Plymouth.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863; transferred to Veteran
Reserve Corps, May 31, 1863.

Joseph L. Fish, Pembroke.
Died, Oct. 31, 1862, at Hanson, Mass., of chronic diarrhœa, while
home on a furlough.

Joseph W. Fish, Cohasset.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out July, 1865.

Otis Foster, Pembroke.
Discharged Feb. 16, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Enoch Freeman, Duxbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Samuel Gerrish, Pembroke.
Wounded at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863; transferred to Veteran
Reserve Corps, May 31, 1863.

Myron Gould, E. Bridgewater.
Received sun-stroke, on the march to Clinton, La., June 5, 1863;
died Aug. 26, 1863, at Baton Rouge. La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Albert F. Greenwood, Plymouth.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged, Nov. 27,
1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Benjamin Harvey, Plymouth.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Benjamin Hathaway, Plymouth.
Discharged, June 30, 1863, at St. James Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

John H. Haverstock, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George Holbrook, Plymouth.
Discharged, May 16, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Joshua Hollis, Pembroke.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Otis G. Hudson, E. Bridgewater.
Missing in action, Sept. 19, 1864, at Winchester, Va.; supposed
killed.

Andrew M. Hyland, Cohasset.
Died, Nov. 10, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., of typhoid fever.

James Kingman, E. Bridgewater.
Died, June 14, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, of debility.

William W. Lanman, Plymouth.
Discharged, Dec. 27, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Frank E. Lee, Bridgewater.
Discharged, May 3, 1863, at Opelousas, La., for disability.

William A. Lewis, Cohasset.
Killed in action, June 14, 1863, at Port Hudson, La.

Joseph B. Loring, Pembroke.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Daniel Lovett, Plymouth.
Detailed at head-quarters, Gen. Sheridan, Nov. 25, 1864: discharged,
June 10, 1865.

George E. Louzarder, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged, Jan. 23, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

James A. Lyon, Swansea.
Died, April 17, 1863, at Berwick City, La., of wounds received at
Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Patrick Maguire, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Julius W. Monroe, Hanson.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; died Feb. 13,
1865, of starvation in Salisbury prison, N. C.

George H. Morton, Kingston.
Discharged, Feb. 27, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Patrick O’Brien, Kingston.
Wounded at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; discharged, April 3,
1865, at Cuyler Hospital, Germantown, Pa.

William O’Brien, Bridgewater.
Died, Nov. 9, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore, Md.,
of typhoid fever.

John F. Perkins, Kingston.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William A. Perkins, Halifax.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles S. Peterson, Plymouth.
Discharged, Nov. 20, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Silas N. Peterson, Conway.
Died, Nov. 10, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., of typhoid fever.

Henry W. Price, Bridgewater.
Discharged, Nov. 20, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Frederick R. Raymond, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Bradford Sampson, Duxbury.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; died, Aug. 27, 1864
at New York, of chronic diarrhœa, while going home on a furlough.

Eugene Sanger, E. Bridgewater.
Killed in action, April 13, 1863, at Bisland, La.

Thomas G. Savery, Plymouth.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged Dec. 28,
1863, at Boston, for disability.

John Scollard, Kingston.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, May 31, 1863.

Frederick P. Sherman, Duxbury.
Discharged, Feb. 7, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

William S. Sherman, Kingston.
Discharged, Jan. 25, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Henry Soule, Kingston.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Abel O. Stetson, Pembroke.
Died of wounds received at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Hiram F. Stevens, Pembroke.
Died, Jan. 3, 1863, at Chesapeake Hospital, Hampton, Va., of
incipient phthisis.

Philip H. Tew, Pembroke.
Discharged, Oct. 23, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Israel H. Thrasher, Plymouth.
Died June 29, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of wounds received at
Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

James T. Thrasher, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Sylvanus Tinkham, E. Bridgewater.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, May 31, 1863.

Lorenzo Tower, Swansea.
Died, at Brashear City, La., of wounds received at Bisland, La.,
April 13, 1863.

George A. Wheeler, E. Bridgewater.
Discharged at McClellan Hospital, Philadelphia, June 13, 1865.

Samuel C. White, E. Bridgewater.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; absent sick at Post
Hospital, Goldsboro’, N. C., at muster out of regiment.

Thomas Williston, Cohasset.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged Oct. 20,
1863, at Boston, for disability.

Elbridge Winsor, Bridgewater.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged, May 16,
1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

UNDER-COOKS.

William Henderson, Baton Rouge.
Joined Regiment, Nov. 8, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet.
Vols., June 25, 1865.

Lewis Matthews, Baton Rouge.
Joined Regiment, Nov. 1, 1863; transferred to 25th Mass. Vet.
Vols., June 25, 1865.

COMPANY E.

CAPTAIN.

John E. Smith, Lynn, Mass.
On detached service since Aug. 13, 1863, at Boston Harbor; mustered
out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Eben Parsons, Jr., Lynn.
On detached service as Judge Advocate, from Feb. 7, 1863; mustered
out, June 23, 1865.

Vivian K. Spear, Lynn.
First Lieutenant, Feb. 27, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La., June
14, 1863.

William H. Whitney.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant from 1st Sergeant Co. A. March 4, 1863;
transferred to Co. C, Oct. 14, 1863.

Albert F. Bullard, New Bedford.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant from Sergeant-Major, Jan. 4, 1863: and
appointed to Co. A; wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; promoted
1st lieutenant, Jan. 7, 63; in command of Co. E.; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Horatio E. Macomber, Lynn.
1st Sergeant, Feb. 4, 1863; Sergeant-Major, July 1st, 1863; 2d
Lieutenant, Nov. 1, 1863; on Brigade Staff, from March 25,
1864.

SERGEANTS.

Lemuel J. Gove, Lynn.
Died at Carrollton, La., Feb. 8, 1863, of typhoid fever.

William A. Atwill, Lynn.
1st Sergeant, July 1, 1863; received commission as lieutenant, but
not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. A. R. Smith, Lynn.
Discharged for disability, at New Orleans, La., July, 1863.

Algernon Sidney Fisher, Lynn.
Died, at Berwick City, La., April 27, 1863, of wounds received in
action, at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

John Alley, 5th, Lynn.
Sergeant, March 1, 1863; discharged for disability, at New Orleans,
La., Aug. 31, 1863.

William H. Pecker, Lynn.
Sergeant, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

William H. Marston, Lynn.
Sergeant, July 7, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, May 28; killed
in action at the battle of Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

Robert F. Bagnall, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1864; wounded
in action, at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864.

Isaiah G. Hacker, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, March 1, 1865; wounded
in action, Sep. 19, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Peter R. McGrengor, Lynn.
Promoted Sergeant, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

James H. Broad, Lynn.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Jan. 28, 1865.

Augustus R. Parks, Lynn.
Discharged for disability, at New Orleans, La., July, 1863.

Benjamin F. Ingalls, Lynn.
Died at Carrollton, La., March 5, 1863, of typhoid fever.

William H. Newhall, Lynn.
Discharged to receive commission at New Orleans, La., May 2,
1864.

William E. Barnes, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

John F. Galeucia, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; discharged for disability, at
Halltown, Va., Aug. 26, 1864.

Morris M. Keith, Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; died at New Orleans, La., July
19, 1864, of chronic diarrhœa.

Charles H. Nesmith, Bridgewater.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Theodore Tucker, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal; wounded at the battle of Opequan; died at
Winchester, Va., Sept. 21, 1864, of wounds received in action.

John C. Hilton, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Amos H. Breed, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Asa Kimball, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Porter O. Kent, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 26, 1864; on colors; mustered out, July,
1865.

Thomas A. Corson, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, July 12, 1864; wounded in action at Winchester,
Va., Sept. 19, 1864; discharged at Chester Hospital,
Pa., Dec. 29, 1864.

George R. McIntire, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; wounded in action, Sep. 19, 1864;
mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIANS.

Charles T. Eaton, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles E. Mills, Stowe.
Discharged for disability, at Fortress Monroe, Va., Feb. 26, 1863.

PRIVATES.

John N. Allen, Lynn.
Taken Prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; returned to
duty, April 23, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Robert R. Beckford, Lynn.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., April 7, 1863, of typhoid fever.

Woodbridge Byrant, Bridgewater.
Died at Carrollton, La., Jan. 14, 1863, of typhoid fever.

James Brennan, Brewster.
Wounded in action, Sept. 19, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Elbridge H. Bullard, Lynn.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14; discharged for disability, at
General Hospital, Baltimore, Jan. 5, 1863.

John M. Brown, Lynn.
Discharged for disability, at Boston, Feb. 24, 1864.

George Bacon, Brookline.
Deserted at Camp Emory, Baltimore, Md., Nov. 6, 1862.

Jonathan L. Bacheller, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James Birmingham, Lynn.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., July 11, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Alfred Bacheller, Lynn.
Died at Baton Rouge, Aug. 3, 1863, of wounds received at siege of
Port Hudson, July 4, 1863.

Emery Clark, Stowe.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles M. Clark, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John E. H. Chase, Brookline.
Transferred to U. S. Navy, at New Orleans, La., Aug. 1, 1864.

Philo Carver, Bridgewater.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., Sept. 14, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Barnabas F. Clark, Lynn.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 28, 1863, of diphtheria.

John Carnes, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Alvin Conant, Bridgewater.
Wounded at Opequan, Sept. 19; mustered out at Hilton Head, June
8, 1865.

James Collins, Lynn.
Sick in hospital, from Aug. 28, 1864.

Cyrus A. Chadwell, Lynn.
Sick in hospital, from Aug. 5, 1864.

Joseph H. Dwyer, Brookline.
Discharged for disability, at University Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
Oct. 5, 1863.

Henry H. Fuller, Brookline.
Died at New Orleans, La., Aug. 16, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Frank M. Flynn, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William J. Flynn, Lynn.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14; transferred to Veteran Reserve
Corps, April 10, 1864.

George Flynn, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

David G. Goggins, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Frank Hunnewell, Lynn.
On detached service, from Sept. 13, 1862; taken prisoner at Cedar
Creek. Va., Oct. 19, 1864; not heard from.

Stephen A. Hall, South Danvers.
Discharged for disability, at New Orleans, La., Dec. 18, 1863.

Stephen G. Hooper, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Granville Hartwell, Bridgewater.
Discharged for disability, at Fortress Monroe, Va., Feb. 17, 1863.

Samuel E. Heath, Lynn.
Died at Carrollton, La., Feb. 15, 1863, of typhoid fever.

Timothy Harrington, Lynn.
Discharged for disability, at New Orleans, La., Jan. 24, 1864.

Owen Hurley, Lynn.
Killed in action, at the battle of Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

Charles E. Irving, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Clarkson T. Ingalls, Lynn.
Sent to Post Hospital Savannah, May 23, 1865.

John Kain, Lynn.
Sent to hospital at Frederick City, Md., Nov. 8, 1864; mustered
out, at Frederick, Md., May 26, 1865.

James Kitchen, Lynn.
Discharged for disability, at Boston, Jan. 7, 1864.

Lindley Kitchen, Lynn.
Wounded in action, at the battle of Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864;
died at Winchester, Sept., 1864, of wounds received in action.

Daniel T. King, Lynn.
On detached service from April 9, 1864, in Navy.

Wilbur H. Kimball, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Amos L. Little, Lynn.
Sent to Post Hospital, Savannah, May 23, 1865.

Samuel E. Luscomb, Lynn.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., July 9, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Joseph Lindsey, Jr., Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, 1863; transferred to Vet. Reserve Corps, 1864.

William H. McKay, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Boston, Mass., June 13, 1864.

Henry A. Martin, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at New Orleans, La., May 9, 1863.

James C. McIntire, Lynn.
Wounded in action at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; died at
New Orleans, La., July 2, 1863, of wounds received in action.

Joshua W. Mudge, Lynn.
Discharged at Boston, Mass., May, 1865, on account of wounds received
at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864. Mr. Mudge took great
interest in the religious welfare of the regiment, filling the place
of chaplain during the absence of Col. Ingraham. As agent of
the Christian Commission, after the disasters on the Red River,
his kindness will ever be remembered by the regiment.

Walter C. Matthews, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Boston, Mass., Oct. 26, 1863.

George A. Newhall, South Danvers.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph P. Noyes, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at New Orleans, La., May 9, 1863.

Uriah Phelps, Bridgewater.
Discharged, Sept. 15, 1862; excess of maximum.

Andrew J. Pratt, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Portsmouth Grove, R. I., March 4, 1863.

William H. Pearson, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William T. Phillips, Lynn.
Died at New Orleans, La., Aug. 12, 1864, of chronic diarrhœa.

William A. Phipps, Lynn.
Discharged, Sept. 15, 1862, excess of maximum.

Benjamin W. Price, Bridgewater.
Transferred to Vet. Res. Corps, April 30, 1864.

Charles Quimby, Lynn.
Transferred to Navy, July 1, 1864.

Israel Richmond, Bridgewater.
Transferred to Vet. Res. Corps, April 10, 1864.

Thomas Ryan, Lynn.
Deserted at Camp Stanton, Lynnfield, Mass., Aug. 22, 1862.

Wesley Reed, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at U. S. Gen. Hospital at Baltimore, Md.,
Nov. 13, 1862.

Joseph P. Ramsdell, Lynn.
Taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar Creek, Va.

Daniel L. Seavey, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Boston, Mass., Nov. 9, 1863.

Charles Smith, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles B. Smith, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James B. Saul, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 24, 1863.

Rufus S. Southworth, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Shehan, Lynn.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James H. Tuttle, Lynn.
Lost left arm by accident while on fatigue duty at Morehead City,
March 28, 1865.

William Wood, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 10, 1863.

Dennis Welch, Lynn.
Discharged for disability at Boston, Mass., Jan. 8, 1864.

Henry K. White, Lynn.
Taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar Creek, Va.; died at
Salisbury, N. C., Nov. 24, 1864.

James Walter, Lynn.
Taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar Creek, Va.; died at Camp
Parole, Annapolis, Md., March 21, 1865.

William P. Corson, Lynn.
Joined, Jan. 2, 1864; transferred to 26th Massachusetts, June 22
1865.

Luther D. Grove, Boston.
Joined, April 26, 1865; transferred to 26th Massachusetts, June 22
1865.

William H. Tuck, Lynn.
Joined, Aug. 19, 1864; wounded at Opequan, Sept. 19, 1864;
transferred to 26th Massachusetts, June 22, 1865.

Patrick O’Neill, Wellfleet.
Joined, Feb. 26, 1864; died at New Orleans, La., April 30, 1864,
of chronic diarrhœa.

COLORED COOK.

William Lee, Baton Rouge.
Joined at Baton Rouge, La., Nov. 1, 1863; transferred to 26th
Massachusetts, June 22, 1865.

COMPANY F.

CAPTAIN.

Taylor P. Rundlet, Cambridge.
Capt. Rundlet held the positions of Assistant Inspector-General,
on the Brigade Staff, for many months, of Provost Marshal in
Winchester, Va., Morehead City, and Goldsborough, and of Provost
Judge in Savannah; wounded at Port Hudson, May 29, 1863; mustered
out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Joseph A. Hildreth, Cambridge.
Promoted Captain, and appointed to Company K, March 4, 1863.

Frank A. Nash, Abington.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Company F, April 23,
1863; resigned, March 7, 1864.

James T. Davis, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, Jan. 4, 1863; Sergeant-Major, March 3,
1863; 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Company I, March 3,
1863; 1st Lieutenant, and transferred to Company K, Oct 24,
1863; transferred to Company F, March 19, 1864; wounded in
action at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; received commission as
Captain, Sept. 16, 1864, but not mustered; mustered out, July,
1865.

Edward G. Pike, Cambridge.
Promoted Adjutant, Feb. 8, 1863.

Nathan Russell, Jr., Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, March 3, 1863; 2d Lieutenant, April 19
1863; 1st Lieutenant, and transferred to Company I, Jan. 9, 1864;
wounded in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

SERGEANTS.

Walter W. Nourse, Cambridge.
Promoted to Sergeant-Major, Jan. 4, 1863; died at Carrollton, La.,
March 3, 1863, of typhoid fever.

John H. Butler, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, March 3, 1863; Sergeant-Major, Nov. 15, 1863.

Benjamin T. Rice, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1862; 1st Sergeant, April 2, 1863;
discharged at Boston, June 3, 1864, on account of disability,
caused by exposure, at siege of Port Hudson, La.

Austin C. Wellington, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, April 2, 1863; 1st Sergeant, June 3, 1864;
appointed acting Adjutant, Aug. 1864; received commissions as 2d
and 1st Lieutenants, but not mustered.

Alphonso M. Lunt, Cambridge.
Promoted Sergeant, July 1, 1863. Sergeant Lunt carried the
battle-flag through the battles of Cane River, Mansura, and Opequan
Creek, and distinguished himself for especial bravery in the latter
engagement; mustered out, July, 1865.

J. Frank Angell, Cambridge.
Killed in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863. Sergt. Angell
left the hospital while still suffering from disease, and hastened
to the regiment, which he joined a few days before the battle.

W. Forbes Wilson, Boston.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 25, 1862; Sergeant, Jan. 4, 1863: wounded
in action at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged to
accept a commission in Corps d’Afrique, Feb. 29, 1864. Sergeant
Wilson, already wounded in two places, was raising himself up
to give water to a New York soldier, badly wounded, and suffering
from thirst, when he received a third shot in the head.

Thomas F. Palmer, Boston.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; Sergeant, Nov. 15, 1863; wounded
in action at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864, while in command
of Company; mustered out, July, 1865.

Alonzo L. Hodges, Boston.
Promoted Sergeant, April 3, 1864. Sergeant Hodges carried the
battle-flag through the engagements at Bisland, and during the
siege at Port Hudson, as well as on the march through the Tèche
country; but, receiving a sun-stroke, was compelled to give up
his position.

Martin G. Childs, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 15, 1863; Sergeant, July 1, 1864; killed
in action, at Fisher’s Hill, Va., Sept. 22, 1864.

CORPORALS.

Henry H. Keniston, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., July 21, 1863, for disability; died
after leaving service.

Henry L. Mitchell, Cambridge.
Discharged, March 1, 1864, to accept a commission in 1st New
Orleans (white) Regiment.

Levi Langley, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 18, 1862; died, Oct. 4, 1863, at Baton
Rouge, La., of typhoid fever.

H. Orlando Gale, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 4, 1863; died, June 5, 1863, while on the
passage from Springfield Landing to Baton Rouge. Corporal
Gale performed the latter part of the march to Port Hudson under
severe suffering, went into the fight on the 27th of May, and
remained in the ravines until the withdrawal of the regiment to
the woods, when he was taken with a severe fever, and died in a
few days,—even in his delirium expressing the fear that he was
not doing his full duty. The writer will be allowed to pay this
slight tribute to the memory of a messmate and friend, whose
loss was mourned by all who knew him.

Warren Cotton, Cambridge.
Discharged, Feb. 18, 1864, to accept a commission in Corps d’Afrique.

William L. Champney, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, March 3, 1863; killed in action at Port Hudson,
La., June 14, 1863. Corporal Champney was an active member of the
volunteer militia of Boston, and, upon the breaking out of the war,
enlisted in the First Massachusetts, in which regiment he served
until discharged by the surgeon for disability caused by the severe
duty performed in Virginia. Upon his recovery, he enlisted in the
Thirty Eighth, and faithfully performed his duty, being ever in
his place on the march, often under circumstances which would have
discouraged most men. He was killed early in the engagement.

George D. Towne, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, April 2, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. Powers, Boston.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Arthur C. Day, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Abram P. Eaton, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 29, 1863; wounded in action at Port
Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

John E. Pratt, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 29, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward A. Brown, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 4, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles E. Neale, Cambridge.
Promoted Corporal, April 3, 1864; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
May 27, 1863; killed in action at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864.

MUSICIANS.

Charles Munroe, Cambridge.
Promoted to principal musician, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered out, July,
1865.

George A. Copp, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

WAGONER.

Joseph O. Bullard, Cambridge.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

PRIVATES.

John Anglin, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Matthias Barry, Cambridge.
Wounded in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged
at New Orleans, La., Nov. 6, 1863.

William J. Barry, Cambridge.
Absent on detached Service, in Q. M. Department, Readville, at
muster out of Regiment.

Joseph G. Bartlett, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Herman Bird, Cambridge.
Discharged, Oct. 13, 1864, for disability.

George R. Blake, Cambridge.
Killed in action at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863. Mr. Blake
declined promotion repeatedly urged upon him by his commanding
officer, satisfied to do his duty in the ranks, where he
met his death while advancing on the breastworks.

Asa V. Borden, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Abraham Bradley, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Augustus W. Brainard, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. Brainard, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Benjamin R. Bryant, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George L. Burton, Cambridge.
Killed in action at Opequan Creek, Va., Sept. 19, 1864.

Arthur Campbell, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George A. Cole, Cambridge.
Discharged, Aug. 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

William S. Copp, Cambridge.
Died, May 24, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of diarrhœa.

Charles P. Cummings, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John H. Dame, Cambridge.
Killed in action, at Port Hudson, La., May 25, 1863.

Henry O. Downing, Cambridge.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

James H. Duhig, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865; died a few days after leaving service.

George Emerson, Cambridge.
On detached service, in Mississippi Squadron, from May 10, 1864.

Richard A. Fitzgerald, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Patrick Foley, Cambridge.
Wounded in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged
at New Orleans, La., Feb. 1, 1864.

Edward E. Folger, Cambridge.
Discharged, June 1, 1863, for disability.

Hiram T. Foster, Cambridge.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, July, 1864.

Augustus Gaffee, Boston.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

John M. Gilcreas, Cambridge.
Died, at New Orleans, La., June 26, 1863, of wounds received in
action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

James Golden, Cambridge.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., June 16, 1863, of congestive fever.

John T. Gowen, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans, La., March 19, 1863, of malarial cochexia.

Daniel Hancock, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Augustus P. Hanson, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Luther Hapgood, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Ambrose K. Hardinbrook, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Ward W. Hawkes, Cambridge.
Wounded in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged
Nov. 7, 1863.

Lewis O. Hawkins, Seekonk.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward Hogan, Cambridge.
Absent sick in hospital at Readville, at muster out of regiment.

Joseph A. Holt, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Walter J. Hixon, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, Jan. 26, 1864, for disability.

Alfred Jennings, Cambridge.
Died, at Carrion Crow Bayou, La., Nov. 17, 1863.

Warren Kenniston, Cambridge.
Discharged at Boston, March 24, 1864, for disability.

John Leary, Cambridge.
Absent sick at Carver Gen. Hospital, Washington, D. C.

Adolphe M. Léve, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

George Macomber, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George Mansise, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James M. Mason, Cambridge.
Absent sick at Armory Square Hospital, Washington, D. C.

George R. McPherson, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Dec. 13, 1862, for disability.

W. Frank Morse, Cambridge.
Discharged at Franklin, La., Jan. 29, 1864, to accept position as
citizen clerk, in Q. M. Department.

Joseph A. Morris, Cambridge.
Killed in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863. He was but
eighteen years of age, and the only remaining son of a widow who
had already given one son to the country.

Nathaniel Munroe, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Philip Nelligan, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Frank Orcutt, Cambridge.
Discharged, Oct. 22, 1863, to accept a commission in Corps
d’Afrique.

Charles Parker, Cambridge.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., Sept. 20, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

John Powers, Cambridge.
Wounded, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; died at Baton
Rouge, La., May 11, 1864, of wounds received in action, at Cane
River, La., April 23, 1864.

George H. Prior, Cambridge.
Promoted to Q. M. Sergeant, May 28, 1864.

James Redfern, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., Dec. 24, 1863, for disability.

William C. Rice, Cambridge.
Discharged, March 24, 1864, to accept a commission in Corps
d’Afrique.

George W. Robbins, Cambridge.
Discharged at Fortress Monroe, Va., Jan. 25, 1863, for disability.

George S. Russell, Cambridge.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 25, 1863; wounded at Winchester,
Va., Sept. 19, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Albert I. Sands, Cambridge.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 3, 1863, for disability.

Joshua H. Sawin, Cambridge.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. Seaward, Cambridge.
Discharged at Fortress Monroe, Va., Feb. 10, 1863, for disability.

Benjamin A. Small, Cambridge.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., March 9, 1863, for disability.

Alpheus Spaulding, Holliston.
Died at New Orleans, La., June 16, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Edward M. Stearns, Cambridge.
Absent sick at Armory Square Hospital, Washington, D. C.

William L. Stevens, Cambridge.
Died at New Orleans, La., July 10, 1863, of diarrhœa.

George Symons, Cambridge.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; paroled and
mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles H. Taylor, Charlestown.
Wounded in action, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; discharged,
Dec. 18, 1863.

John H. Tucker, Cambridge.
Killed in action, at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863. Mr. Tucker
had but recently graduated from Harvard, and was preparing for
the ministry at the breaking out of the war. With no taste for
military pursuits, or ambition for military honors, he entered the
ranks from unmixed motives of duty, bore the privations of
the service with a cheerfulness which excited the admiration
of all who witnessed it, and died regretted by every man in the
regiment who enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance.

Charles White, Cambridge.
Died at Brashear, La., May 30, 1863.

Daniel T. Duhig, Cambridge.
Enlisted, Jan. 6, 1864; transferred to 26th Reg. Mass. Vols., June
22, 1865.

David Shattels, Baton Rouge, La.
Enlisted, Dec. 28, 1863; died at New Orleans, La., July 26, 1864,
of malarial cochexia.

Abner Smith, Taunton.
Enlisted, Jan. 27, 1864; captured by Mosby’s Guerillas, in Shenandoah
Valley, Nov. 1864; died at Barnet, Vermont, April 10, 1865,
from effects of starvation, while prisoner of war.

Eugene C. Wells, Taunton.
Enlisted, Jan. 27, 1864; transferred to 26th Reg. Mass. Vols., June
22, 1865.

John J. Dalglish, Concord.
Enlisted, Feb. 21, 1865; transferred to 26th Reg. Mass. Vols., June
22, 1865.

COLORED UNDER-COOK.

George Harris, Baton Rouge, La.
Enlisted, Sept. 24, 1863; transferred to 26th Reg. Mass. Vols., June
22, 1865.

COMPANY G.

CAPTAIN.

Charles C. Doten, Plymouth.
Resigned on account of ill health, May 20, 1863. Capt. Doten was in
command of the color division (Companies A and G) at the battle of
Bisland, and received the especial commendation of Gens. Banks and
Emory for his courage and coolness on that occasion. Never allowing
passion to overcome his judgment in dealing with the men in the
ranks, to whom the new restraints of military discipline were often
rendered unnecessarily irritating by the overbearing manners of
petty officers, the resignation of Captain Doten was regretted by
the entire command. He was afterward in service in the telegraph
department.

George B. Russell, Plymouth.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, Dec. 4, 1862; transferred to Co. D, March
4, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; promoted
Captain, and appointed to Co. G, Nov. 1, 1863; discharged, Sept.
14, 1864, and commissioned in Veteran Reserve Corps; afterward
Provost Marshal at Washington, in which position it became a part
of his duties to assist in the execution of the prison-keeper of
Andersonville.

LIEUTENANTS.

Albert Mason, Plymouth.
Transferred from Co. C to Co. G, April 22, 1863; re-transferred from
Co. G to C, Jan. 8, 1864.

William H. Whitney, Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. E. March 4, 1863; 1st
Lieutenant, and appointed to Co. C, Oct. 14, 1863; transferred from
Co. C to Co. G, Jan. 8, 1864; discharged, Dec. 20, 1864, on account
of wounds received at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864. Lieutenant
Whitney received a captain’s commission, but, the regiment being
reduced below the standard required by the War Department for a
full complement of officers, could not be mustered.

Frederic Holmes, Plymouth.
Promoted Sergeant-Major, Nov. 1, 1862; 2d Lieutenant, Dec. 4,
1862; killed in action at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

SERGEANTS.

G. Hubert Bates, Scituate.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1862; discharged at Algiers, La.,
April 3, 1863, for disability.

Charles E. Barns, Plymouth.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, March 1, 1863; discharged, May 4, 1863,
at Opelousas, La., for disability.

Josiah E. Atwood, Carver.
Died, July 11, 1863, at Thibadeaux, La., while a prisoner in the
hands of the enemy.

Nahum Sampson, Duxbury.
Discharged, Nov. 26, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Sanford Crandon, Plymouth.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1862; 1st Sergeant, May 1, 1863;
wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; received commission
as lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles Young, Scituate.
Sergeant, May 5, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14,
1863; on furlough by order of War Department, from Oct. 6,
1864, to enable him to enter the Tel. Corps.

Henry O. Cole, Scituate.
Promoted Sergeant, Sept. 1, 1863; 1st Sergeant, June 1, 1865;
mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles W. Lanmar, Plymouth.
Promoted Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1864; in Massachusetts on recruiting
service since August, 1863.

Henry H. Lewis, Duxbury.
Promoted Corporal, March, 1, 1863; Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

Francis B. Dorr, Duxbury.
Died, May 13, 1863, at New Orleans, La.

Joseph A. Brown, Plymouth.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md.

William A. Hathaway, Plymouth.
Died Feb. 23, 1863, at Convalescent Camp, Va.

Eugene Glass, Duxbury.
Discharged, Dec. 27, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Melzar A. Foster, Kingston.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 27, 1862; died, Jan. 21, 1863, at Carrollton,
La.

George W. Merritt, Scituate.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 1862; Sergeant, May 1, 1863; discharged,
Aug. 13, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

John J. Lewis, Duxbury.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Otis D. Totman, Scituate.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1863; died, April 18, 1863, at Baton
Rouge, La.

Austin Washburn, Plympton.
Promoted Corporal, March 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles C. White, Plympton.
Promoted Corporal, May 5, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. Lee, Scituate.
Promoted Corporal, May 5, 1863; discharged, Nov. 1, 1863, at Boston,
for disability.

Lewis M. Bailey, 2d, Duxbury.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
May 27, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

James Downey, Duxbury.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; on colors; mustered out, July, 1865.

Sumner O. Litchfield, Scituate.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; wounded at Cedar Creek, Va.,
Oct. 19, 1864; discharged, June 9, 1865.

Heman Robbins, Plymouth.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 4, 1864; mustered out July, 1865.

PRIVATES.

John Breach, Carver.
Died, May 11, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La.

George E. Bates, Carver.
Died, May 21, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of phthisis.

Charles E. Bates, Scituate.
Discharged, Feb. 3, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

William Baily, Duxbury.
Died, March 29, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Seth K. Bailey, Scituate.
Died, Sept. 6, 1862, at Baltimore, Md.

James Berry, Scituate.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Berry, Scituate.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph P. Bosworth, Jr., Duxbury.
Discharged, Nov. 5, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

James L. Brown, Scituate.
Discharged, July 23, 1863, New Orleans, La., for disability.

Charles J. Chandler, Plymouth.
Died, Feb. 18, 1863, at Carrollton, La., of bronchitis.

Job C. Chandler, Plymouth.
Transferred to 1st Louisiana Cavalry; Feb. 5, 1863.

Alonzo Chandler, Duxbury.
Absent, sick in Lovell’s Hospital, Portsmouth Grove, R. I.

Samuel W. Cook, Scituate.
Discharged, Aug. 6, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

John H. Crocker, Duxbury.
Died, April 21, 1863, at Berwick City, La., of wounds received at
Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Timothy Downey, Scituate.
Discharged, Nov. 25, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Edwin F. Damon, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Timothy T. Eaton, Plymouth.
Absent, at Readville Hospital, Mass., at muster-out of regiment.

Lemuel B. Faunce, Jr., Plymouth.
Died, April 23, 1865, at Goldsboro’, N. C., of internal rupture.

James Frothingham, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Israel B. Finney, Plympton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Ezra J. Ford, Duxbury.
Discharged, Sept. 21, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Edward E. Green, Plymouth.
Died, July 11, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic dysentery.

Abiel Gibbs, Plympton.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Jan. 10, 1865; wounded at
Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Jonathan Glass, Jr., Duxbury.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 22, 1864.

Seth Glass, Duxbury.
Died, June 15, 1863, on board hospital transport, of wounds received
at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Isaac T. Hall, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas Haley, Plymouth.
Died, April 5, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of phthisis.

John B. Hatch, Carver.
Discharged, March 27, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

Samuel Harriman, Duxbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Hogan, Plympton.
Discharged, March 14, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

Caleb M. Jenkins, Scituate.
Discharged, July 15, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Issachar Josslyn, Plymouth.
Discharged, April 3, 1863, at Algiers, La., for disability.

John E. Josslyn, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Bernard F. Kelley, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Robert W. Lashores, Plympton.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; taken prisoner at
Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; paroled; mustered out, July, 1865.

Warren S. Litchfield, Scituate.
Died, Sept. 4, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La.

Edgar F. Loring, Duxbury.
Discharged, May 27, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

Jesse F. Lucas, Carver.
Transferred to First Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 5, 1863; re-transferred
to Co. G, 38th., Aug. 23, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph McLaughlin, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John McNaught, Duxbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James McSherry, Carver.
Died, Jan. 13, 1863, at Fortress Monroe, Va.

Elias O. Nichols, Scituate.
Corporal, Jan. 1, 1864; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct,
19, 1864; never heard from.

William Perry, Plymouth.
Died, June 5, 1863, at New Orleans, La.

Leander B. Pierce, Duxbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William W. Pearsons, Carver.
Discharged, Sept. 1, 1864, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

George H. Pratt, Carver.
Died, October, 1864, of wounds received at Winchester, Va., Sept.
19, 1864.

Jason H. Randall, Duxbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Josiah D. Randall, Duxbury.
Discharged, July 19, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

Levi Ransom, Jr., Plymouth.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Sept. 26, 1863.

Adrian D. Ruggles, Plymouth.
Absent, sick at Newbern, N. C., at muster-out of regiment.

Eelen Sampson, 2d, Duxbury.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., May 7, 1864, of wounds received at Cane
River, La., April 23, 1864.

Isaac L. Sampson, Duxbury.
Discharged, Jan. 20, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Benjamin H. Savery, Carver.
Discharged, July, 1863, at Opelousas, La., for disability.

William Savery, Kingston.
Discharged, May 17, 1865, at Satterlee Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa.,
for disability.

Horatio Sears, Plymouth.
Absent, sick at Mason’s Gen. Hospital, Boston, at muster-out of
regiment.

Otis Sears, Plymouth.
Wounded at Bisland, April 13, 1863; died, Jan. 6, 1864, at Plymouth,
while on a furlough.

Perez T. Shurtleff, Carver.
Discharged, Sept. 12, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Abram P. Simmons, Duxbury.
Discharged, Aug. 29, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Daniel F. Simmons, Duxbury.
Died, May 1, 1863, at Berwick City, La., of wounds received at
Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Wilbur Simmons, Duxbury.
Died, April 27, 1863, at Berwick City, La., of wounds received at
Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Bennett Soule, Plympton.
Died, June 6, 1863, at Brashear City, La.

William Soule, Duxbury.
Discharged, Aug. 13, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Benjamin E. Stetson, Scituate.
Mustered out, July, 1865; wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 27.

Charles A. Taylor, Scituate.
Discharged, Feb. 16, 1864, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

George W. Thomas, Halifax.
Discharged, May 26, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Joseph F. Towns, Plymouth.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Levi C. Vaughan, Carver.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, April 6, 1864.

John M. Whiting, Plymouth.
Killed in action, Sept. 19, 1864, at Winchester, Va.

Corindo Winsor, Duxbury.
Discharged, at Alexandria, Va., for disability.

Davis C. Witherell, Scituate.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles T. Wood, Plymouth.
Discharged, Feb. 5, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

John W. Young, Scituate.
Discharged, Dec. 27, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Henry Burns, Boston.
Joined, Oct. 17, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet. Vols., June
25, 1865.

Abram Glass, Duxbury.
Joined, Jan. 2, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet. Vols., June
25, 1865.

Ethan A. Josslyn, Boston.
Joined, Oct. 15, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet. Vols. June
25, 1865.

Edward Allsworth, Baton Rouge.
Joined, Jan. 5, 1864; discharged, Jan. 3, 1865, at Winchester, Va.,
to accept a commission in 119th U. S. C. T.

COMPANY H.

CAPTAIN.

Thomas R. Rodman, New Bedford.
On detached service as mustering officer in Baton Rouge, La., from
Sept. 28, 1863, to summer of 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

LIEUTENANTS.

Julius M. Lathrop, Dedham.
Promoted Captain, Feb. 27, 1863, and transferred to Co. I; died
April 26, 1864, of wounds received in action at Cane River,
April 23, 1864.

Charles C. Rowland, Boston.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, March 8, 1863; Captain, and appointed
to Co. D, Oct. 14, 1863.

Charles F. Shaw, New Bedford
Promoted Sergeant, Dec. 4, 1862; 2d Lieutenant, Aug. 31, 1863;
mustered out, July, 1865.

SERGEANTS.

George A. Fletcher, Milton.
Transferred to Co. I, Sept. 26, 1862.

Albert H. Nye, New Bedford.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Nov. 13, 1863.

Leander A. Tripp, New Bedford.
Died at Morganza, La., June 30, 1864, of chronic diarrhœa.

Peter C. Brooks, Dartmouth.
Died at Wenham, Mass., Feb. 14, 1864, of chronic diarrhœa.

Albert F. Bullard, New Bedford.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, Sept. 16, 1862; Sergeant-Major, Dec. 4,
1862.

George F. Lincoln, New Bedford.
Promoted Sergeant, Dec. 4, 1862; wounded at Opequan Creek,
Sept. 19, 1864; absent at muster-out of regiment.

William C. Thomas, New Bedford.
Promoted Quartermaster Sergeant, Jan. 31, 1863.

James M. Davis, New Bedford.
Promoted Commissary Sergeant, Feb. 1, 1863.

James N. Parker, New Bedford.
Promoted Sergeant, May 10, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; on recruiting service from Aug. 17, 1863; mustered
out, July, 1865.

George D. Bisbee, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 9, 1862; Sergeant, Sept. 1, 1863; wounded
at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863, mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas E. Bliffens, Dartmouth.
Promoted Corporal, May 10, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1864; discharged
on account of wounds received at Cane River, La., April
23, 1864.

Benjamin Hillman, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, April 10, 1863; Sergeant, July 1, 1864;
wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Henry Hillman, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, April 10, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1865;
wounded and taken prisoner at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864;
paroled Oct. 9, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

J. B. Bullock, New Bedford.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863; transferred to Veteran
Reserve Corps, April 30, 1864.

William H. Bolles, New Bedford.
Discharged at Baton Rouge, La., Feb. 1864, for disability.

David B. Angell, New Bedford.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., Aug. 24, 1863, for disability.

Charles E. Hamlin, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James Egerton, New Bedford.
Detailed as regimental shoemaker; mustered out, July, 1865.

George E. Hawes, New Bedford.
Corporal, Aug. 9, 1862; died at Hampton, Va., Dec. 14, 1862, of
typhoid fever.

William E. Davis, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 9, 1862; discharged at Carrollton, La.,
Feb. 5, 1863, for disability.

Silas C. Kenney, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 9, 1862; killed in action at Port Hudson,
La., June 14, 1863.

Benjamin L. McLane, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 3, 1862; discharged Nov. 25, 1863, for
disability.

Edward J. Anthony, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Dec. 14, 1863; discharged, Oct. 16, 1863, to
accept a commission.

Otis B. Phinney, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, June 14, 1863; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek,
Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, March 2, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Sylvanus A. Gifford, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 28, 1863; mustered out, May 23, 1864.

George W. Swift, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 28, 1863; wounded at Opequan Creek,
Sept. 19, 1864; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864;
paroled, March 2, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

William A. Tripp, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct. 6, 1863; mustered out at Savannah, Ga.
June, 1865.

Edwin R. Pool, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, Oct 9, 1863; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek,
Oct. 19, 1864; died at Salisbury, N. C., Dec. 1, 1864.

John P. Brenning, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Naaman H. Dillingham, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Gilbert M. Jennings, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Reuben E. Phinney, New Bedford.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIAN.

Manning C. Davy, Weymouth.
Mustered as private from Oct. 31, 1862; mustered out, July, 1865.

PRIVATES.

Bartholomew Aiken, New Bedford.
Died at Carrollton, La., Jan. 20, 1863, of typhoid fever.

James C. Baker, New Bedford.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., Aug. 22, 1863, for disability.

Silas R. Baker, New Bedford.
Wounded and taken prisoner at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864;
paroled; sick in hospital at muster-out of regiment.

William Bently, New Bedford.
Died at New Orleans, La., June 4, 1863, of disease of heart.

Joseph H. Bly, New Bedford.
Died Nov. 10, 1864, of wounds received at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19,
1864.

Hiram B. Bonney, Plymouth.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., July 16, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Peleg S. Borden, New Bedford.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, March 2,
1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

William Bosthoff, New Bedford.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Henry C. Bradley, New Bedford.
Discharged in Louisiana, Feb. 9, 1864, to enter Navy as paymaster’s
steward.

Albert Braley, New Bedford.
Transferred to Louisiana Cavalry, January 31, 1863; re-transferred
to Thirty Eighth, but did not join.

Arthur E. H. Brooks, New Bedford.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, March 2,
1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

Joseph A. Chadwick, New Bedford.
Discharged.

Augustus G. Chapel, New Bedford.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Oct. 7, 1863.

Josiah C. Churchill, New Bedford.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 17, 1863, for disability.

George Crabtree, New Bedford.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, March 2,
1865; absent, sick, at muster-out of regiment.

Joseph B. Crocker, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Andrew W. Davis, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Boston, April 10, 1864, for disability.

Henry O. Davis, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John W. Davis, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Fortress Monroe, Va., March 6, 1863, for disability.

Samuel E. Dean, New Bedford.
Died, at New Bedford, Oct. 16, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

George R. Devol, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Leonard Doty, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Timothy F. Doty, New Bedford.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 23, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

John Dunlap, Plymouth.
Died, on passage from Savannah to Morehead, March 9, 1865, of
congestion of the brain.

Cornelius B. Fish, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Boston, Dec. 9, 1863, for disability.

George W. Fish, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 7, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Jehiel Fish, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., June 28, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Perry W. Fisher, New Bedford.
Wounded, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Augustus E. Foster, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., June 21, 1863, of wounds received in
action at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

Robert Grew, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Baton Rouge, La., Sept. 28, 1863, for disability.

Bartlett Holmes, Jr., New Bedford.
Discharged, at Carrollton, La., Feb. 5, 1863, for disability.

James Holmes, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., Oct. 21, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Patrick Honan, New Bedford.
Transferred to Louisiana Cavalry, Jan. 31, 1863; taken prisoner;
paroled, and rejoined regiment, Feb. 28, 1865; mustered out,
July, 1865.

George S. Howard, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Benjamin Jenks, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 14, 1863, of ciproitis.

Ezra S. Jones, New Bedford.
Died, at Carrollton, La., Jan. 12, 1863, of typhoid fever.

Shubal Eldridge, Jr., New Bedford.
Died, at New Orleans, La., June 13, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Matthias H. Johnson, New Bedford.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864.

Charles G. Kimpton, New Bedford.
Died, at New Orleans, La., April 25, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

James Kimball, Plymouth.
Discharged, at Powhattan, Md., Sept. 10, 1862, on account of excess
of maximum.

Nathan J. Knights, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Boston, April 11, 1864, for disability.

Thomas Lapham, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James M. Lawton, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 24, 1863, to accept a
commission.

Alonzo W. Leach, Plymouth.
Wounded, at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; died, May 22, 1865.

Horace E. Lewis, New Bedford.
Died, at Brashear, La., June 1, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Thomas Nye, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Walter T. Nye, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., April 10, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Jason S. Peckham, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., May 18, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Orrin D. Perry, New Bedford.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Samuel Pent, New Bedford.
Transferred to Louisiana Cavalry, Jan. 31, 1863; re-transferred,
but did not join.

William Phillips, Hanson.
Wounded, at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; mustered out,
July, 1865.

George W. Pierce, New Bedford.
Transferred to Navy, May 8, 1864.

Francis Pittsley, New Bedford.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Levi Pittsley, New Bedford.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, March 2,
1865; absent, at muster-out of regiment.

William Pittsley, New Bedford.
Died, at Baton Rouge, La., June 18, 1863, of disease of heart.

James C. Reed, Middleborough.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Joshua Roach, Middleborough.
Died, at Brashear, La., June 1, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

James Ryan, Middleborough.
Died, at New Orleans, La., June 4, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

George W. Soule, Middleborough.
Discharged, at Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 24, 1863, for disability.

Joseph Simmons, New Bedford.
Transferred to Navy, Aug. 1, 1864.

Luther P. Williams, New Bedford.
Wounded, at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; absent, sick, at
muster-out of regiment.

Robert Willis, New Bedford.
Discharged, at Hilton Head, June 8, 1865.

COMPANY I.

CAPTAINS.

James H. Wade, Boston.
Resigned, March 7, 1863.

Julius M. Lathrop, Dedham.
Promoted Captain, and appointed to Company I, March 1, 1863;
died, April 26, 1864, of wounds received in action at Cane River,
April 23, 1864.

LIEUTENANTS.

Osgood W. Waitt, Malden.
Resigned, March 7, 1863.

Vivian K. Spear, Lynn.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, and appointed to Company I, March 1,
1863; wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; transferred to Invalid
Corps, Oct. 12, 1863.

Nathan Russell, Jr., Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Company I, April 19, 1863;
promoted 1st Lieutenant, Jan. 9, 1864; transferred as Regiment
Quartermaster, July 1, 1864.

Morton D. Mitchell, E. Bridgewater.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Company I, Nov. 1, 1862;
resigned, March 23, 1863; died on shipboard on passage home.

James T. Davis, Cambridge.
Promoted 2d Lieutenant, and appointed to Company I, March 3, 1863;
promoted 1st Lieutenant, and transferred to Company K, Oct. 24,
1863.

SERGEANTS.

Oliver R. Walton, Boston.
Killed at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864.

James M. Monroe, Roxbury.
Wounded at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863; discharged at Boston,
Dec. 18, 1863.

Louis Z. Caziare, Hingham.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1862; received commission, but not
mustered; discharged, April 19, 1864, to accept a commission in
89th U. S. Colored Regiment. Lieut Caziare recently distinguished
himself for bravery and coolness on the occasion of the disaster to
the steamship Great Republic; and his old comrades of the Thirty
Eighth have been gratified to see the public commendation of his
conduct.

Charles H. Thayer, Milton.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 2, 1862; killed in skirmish before Port
Hudson, La., May 25, 1863.

William Parker, 3d, Norton.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1862; 1st Sergeant, May 1, 1864; wounded
at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; taken prisoner at Winchester,
Va., Sept. 19, 1864; paroled and rejoined Regiment: received
commission, but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

John E. Simpson, Milton.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1862; mustered out, July, 1865.

John G. Crossman, Milton.
Promoted Corporal, May 26, 1863; Sergeant, July 1, 1863; mustered
out, July 1, 1865.

Alfred Weston, Needham.
Promoted Corporal, Sept. 5, 1862; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

James Wigley, Milton.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 16, 1863; Sergeant, May 1, 1864; mustered
out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

J. Walter Bradlee, Milton.
Discharged, July 10, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

James Kennelly, Melrose.
Discharged, May 3, 1865, at Mower Hospital, Phil., Pa., for
disability.

Charles H. Moulton, Milton.
Discharged, March 28, 1863, for disability.

David B. Brooks, Winchester.
Transferred to Invalid Corps, April 22, 1864.

Charles C. Hunt, Milton.
Discharged, Nov. 24, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

Charles R. Blaisdell, Lowell.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 2, 1862; wounded at Winchester, Va.,
Sept. 19, 1864; discharged.

Thomas L. Pearce, Milton.
Promoted Corporal, July 11, 1863; wounded at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct.
19, 1864; discharged from hospital, Philadelphia, Pa., May 2, 1865.

James Dooley, Lynn.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 2, 1862; died, June 20, 1863, of wounds
received before Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

George H. Moulton, Milton.
Promoted Corporal, March 29, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; on colors; wounded at Opequan Creek, Sept 19,
1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Everett A. Grant, Milton.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; Promoted Corporal,
July 1, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles G. Littlefield, Roxbury.
Wounded at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864; promoted Corporal,
Jan. 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

George P. Cody, Winthrop.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

MUSICIANS.

Claudius T. Williams, Roxbury.
Discharged, Aug. 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Charles Kenniston, Melrose.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; mustered out, July,
1865.

WAGONER.

Marcus L. Daggett, Wrentham.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

PRIVATES.

William Alvin, Wrentham.
Discharged, May 27, 1863, at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Newell Barber, Medway.
Died, Aug. 14, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La.

George Belus, Needham.
Discharged, Nov. 21, 1862, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, for
disability.

Nelson W. Bickford, Melrose.
Discharged, Sept. 28, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Elbridge Blackman, Milton.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; paroled; mustered
out, July, 1865.

James Boyle, Lynn.
Transferred to Invalid Corps, April 22, 1864.

Charles Bronsdon, Roxbury.
Discharged, Aug. 22, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Jonathan H. Chandler, Milton.
Discharged, July 3, 1863, at St. James Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

David A. Clark, Medway.
Taken prisoner at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864; paroled; Provost
Guard at Annapolis, Md., at muster-out of Regiment.

Edmund N. Clark, Medway.
Discharged, Dec. 14, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

Daniel Connors, Wrentham.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Ferdinand Corman, Wayland.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

James P. Croty, Wrentham.
Wounded at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863; absent sick at Beach
Street Hospital, Boston, at muster-out of Regiment.

Michael Farry, Wrentham.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; wounded at Cedar
Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; absent sick at Island Grove Hospital,
R. I., at muster-out of Regiment.

Samuel Farry, Wrentham.
Died, Feb. 4, 1863, at Carrollton, La.

Dennis Fitzgerald, Lynn.
Transferred, Aug. 13, 1863, to 3d Mass. Cavalry.

Cassius M. Flagg, Hamilton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Patrick Flannagan, Needham.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Harland P. Floyd, Methuen.
Discharged, March 4, 1863, at Convalescent Camp, Alexandria, Va.,
for disability.

Edward Freel, Norton.
Discharged, Feb. 14, 1863, at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore,
Md., for disability.

Charles H. Graham, Milton.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., June 14, 1863; transferred to Vet.
Reserve Corps, May 1, 1864.

George W. Green, Wayland.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George W. Hall, Milton.
Wounded at Winchester, Va., Sept. 19, 1864: died, May 1, 1865,
from effects of wounds, at Frederick Hospital, Md.

James F. Hayden, Lincoln.
Discharged, Dec. 9, 1862, at Convalescent Camp, Alexandria, Va.,
for disability.

Thomas W. Hayden, Lincoln.
Acting Hospital Steward; mustered out, July, 1865.

Edwin A. Heywood, Bridgewater.
Died, Aug. 21, 1863, at Church Hospital, Baton Rouge, La.

Thomas W. Hevey, Hingham.
Killed in action, at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Abraham Holmes, Jr., Roxbury.
Act. Hospital Steward; discharged, March 17, 1864, for disability.

Charles C. Hunt, Milton.
Discharged, Nov. 24, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

John V. Hunt, Norton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George A. Jones, Sudbury.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John P. Jones, Milton.
Discharged at Lynnfield, for disability.

Patrick Kelley, Melrose.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Thomas Kelley, Roxbury.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

John Lacey, Milton.
Wounded at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; absent sick in hospital,
Baltimore, Md., at muster-out of Regiment.

Thomas Leach, Lowell.
Discharged, May 16, 1864, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

Gilbert H. Leland, Medway.
Died, June 3, 1863, in Hospital, at Baton Rouge, La.

Elias Mann, Waltham.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, for disability, Jan. 7, 1865.

Albert T. B. Martin, Milton.
Died, June, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of wounds received at Port
Hudson, La., June 14, 1863.

John Mellen, Wayland.
Killed in action, at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863.

Luther Moulton, Jr., Milton.
Discharged, June 1, 1863, at Charity Hospital, New Orleans, La.,
for disability.

Dennis Mullen, Wayland.
Transferred to La. Cavalry, Feb. 3, 1863; re-transferred to
Regiment, March 1, 1865; mustered out, July, 1865.

James Nelson, Wrentham.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Hiram T. Nye, Milton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William L. Ordway, Lowell.
Transferred to Veteran Reserve Corps, Sept. 26, 1863.

Elijah Palmer, Newton.
Wounded at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; absent sick in hospital,
Philadelphia, Pa., at muster-out of Regiment.

George W. Pearce, Milton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

George Rice, Melrose.
Absent, sick, at muster-out of Regiment.

William Rich, Wrentham.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

William Rimmelle, Needham.
Hospital attendant; mustered out, July, 1865.

Brougham Roberts, Medway.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward Shannon, Milton.
Wounded at Bisland, La., April 13, 1863; died of wounds in hospital
at Brashear City, La., May 5, 1863.

John Shanahan, Rehoboth.
On Ship Island when last heard from.

Thomas Sheahan, Watertown.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

John Sias, 2d, Milton.
Discharged at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., July 24, 1863,
for disability.

Joseph Snow, Needham.
Discharged at New Orleans, La., July 3, 1863, for disability.

George H. Stone, Bolton.
Died in Church Hospital, Baton Rouge, La., July 1, 1863.

Terence Sweeney, Milton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James W. Thayer, Norton.
Wounded at Port Hudson, La., May 25, 1863; transferred to Vet.
Reserve Corps, May 31, 1864.

Stephen Thayer, Norton.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Edwin A. Taylor, Needham.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Va., Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out,
July, 1865.

Otis Tucker, Bridgewater.
Died in hospital, at Fortress Monroe, Va., Nov. 30, 1862.

George E. Vose, Milton.
Discharged at Stewart’s Mansion Hospital, Baltimore, Md., Nov.
7, 1862.

Richard Welsh, Bridgewater.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James E. West, Lincoln.
Discharged at Marine Hospital, New Orleans, La., July 29, 1863, for
disability.

Luther S. Wildes, Methuen.
Discharged at Convalescent Camp, Fairfax, Va., Feb. 7, 1863, for
disability.

Daniel V. De Rochemont, Boston.
Joined Regiment, Dec. 29, 1863; promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865;
transferred to 26th Mass. Vols., June 22, 1865.

Benjamin F. Parker, Boston.
Joined Regiment, Dec. 29, 1863; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet.
Vols., June 22, 1865.

Marcus T. Baker, Boston.
Joined Regiment, Jan. 12, 1865; transferred to 26th Mass. Vet.
Vols., June 22, 1865.

James Farry, Abington.
Joined Regiment, April 30, 1864; died at St. James Hospital, New
Orleans, La., July 12, 1864.

COMPANY K.

CAPTAIN.

James H. Slade, Boston.
Discharged at Carrollton, La., February 25, 1863.

Arthur Hodges, Cambridge.
Promoted Captain, April, 1863; on detached service in Engineer
Corps, from Oct. 20, 1863.

LIEUTENANTS.

Samuel Gault, Boston.
Promoted Captain, Dec. 4, 1862, and appointed to Co. A.

George H. Copeland, Cambridge.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, May 1, 1864; transferred from Co. A;
wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

George T. Martin, Melrose.
Promoted 1st Lieutenant, Apr. 14, 1863; resigned, Aug. 12, 1863,
on account of disability; died after leaving service.

Daniel W. Bowen, Westport.
Promoted Sergeant-Major, March 3, 1863; 2d Lieutenant, April 14,
1863; resigned, August 4, 1864.

SERGEANTS.

George H. Henshaw, Boston.
Promoted 1st Sergeant, March 4, 1863; received commission as
lieutenant, but not mustered; mustered out, July, 1865.

Alexander Von Palen, Hamilton.
Color-bearer in winter of 1862; mustered out, July, 1865.

William H. Martin, Melrose.
On detached service in Ordnance Department; mustered out, July,
1865.

Henry P. Oakman, Marshfield.
Discharged, October 27, 1863, for disability.

George H. Story, Manchester.
Promoted Sergeant, March 4, 1863; wounded at the Battle of Cedar
Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry W. Howard, Waltham.
Promoted Sergeant, Mar. 10, 1863; discharged at Boston, Sept. 24,
1864, to accept commission.

George B. Oldham, Hanover.
Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 1, 1863; discharged, Feb. 1864, to accept
commission in Corps d’Afrique.

Henry C. Gardner, Hanover.
Promoted Sergeant, March 25, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Lewis B. Abbott, Hull.
Promoted Corporal, June 1, 1863, Sergeant, Jan. 1, 1865; mustered
out, July, 1865.

CORPORALS.

Samuel Ross, Jr., Marshfield.
Transferred to 1st Louisiana Cavalry, Feb. 5, 1863.

Henry H. Shedd, Brookline.
Discharged, Oct. 24, 1862, at Alexandria, Va.

William H. Bates, Hanover.
Discharged, July 9, 1863, at New Orleans, La., for disability.

James H. Pike, Brookline.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., July 24, 1863, of remittent fever.

Edward L. Sargent, Brookline.
Died at Brewick City, La., May, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

Charles G. Sherburne, Westport.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 20, 1862; died at Baton Rouge, La., of
wounds received at Cane River, April 23, 1864.

Joshua E. Bates, Hanover.
Promoted Corporal, Jan. 12, 1863; died, Aug. 10, 1863, at Baton
Rouge, La., of typhoid fever.

George O. Noyes, Melrose.
Promoted Corporal, Mar. 10, 1863; wounded at Port Hudson, La.,
June 14, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Andrew J. Crowell, Hamilton.
Promoted Corporal, March 25, 1863; taken prisoner at Cedar Creek,
Oct. 19, 1864; paroled, July, 1865.

Lyman Russell, Hanover.
Promoted Corporal, April 26, 1863; mustered out, July, 1865.

Mareus P. Russell, Hanover.
Promoted Corporal, March 14, 1863; taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864,
paroled.

Hiram P. Abbott, Westport.
Promoted Corporal, Nov. 1, 1863; on colors; mustered out, July,
1865.

Benjamin Tower, Melrose.
Promoted Corporal, Aug. 10, 1863; wounded at Cedar Creek, Oct.
19, 1864; Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles J. Worthen, Brookline.
Promoted Corporal, May 4, 1864; mustered out, July, 1865.

Henry W. Pierce, Holliston.
Promoted Corporal, May 1, 1865; discharged, June, 8, 1865, on
account of wounds received at Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

MUSICIANS.

Frederick White, Weymouth.
Transferred to Invalid Corps, Sept. 26, 1863.

Daniel B. Estes, Westport.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

PRIVATES.

Otis J. Andrews, Holliston.
Acted as musician; mustered out, July, 1865.

John S. Adams, Waltham.
Discharged, Dec. 22, 1864.

William W. Averill, Westport.
Taken prisoner, April 13, 1865, at Goldsboro, N. C.; paroled.

Edwin Atwell, Marshfield.
Wounded at Opequan, Sept. 19, 1864; sent to the hospital, June
2, 1865; mustered out, August, 1865.

Robert Ames, Marshfield.
Died at Baton Rouge, La., June 24, 1863, of chronic diarrhœa.

William O. Andrews, Holliston.
Discharged, Nov. 3, 1863, at Boston, Mass., for disability.

William J. Baker, Marshfield.
Discharged, Jan. 26, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Richard Baker, Holliston.
Discharged, March 27, 1863, at Carrollton, La., for disability.

Levi W. Bailey, Marshfield.
Wounded at the battle of Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864; discharged,
June, 1865.

Albert E. Bates, Hanover.
Died, June 23, 1863, at Morganza, La., of chronic diarrhœa and
fever.

George H. Bryant, Westport.
Discharged, March 24, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Thomas R. Brodhurst, Westport.
Discharged at Baltimore, Md., Nov. 26, 1862, for disability.

Atkins Brown, Jr., Holliston.
Died, Oct. 30, 1864, at Winchester, Va., from wounds received at
Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864.

Levi C. Brooks, Marshfield.
Died, April 23, 1863, from wounds received at Cane River, La.,
April 19, 1863.

James Birch, Chelmsford.
Discharged, Sept. 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Warren R. Dalton, Westport.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Solon David, Westport.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Francis Deshon, Melrose.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Edward David, Westport.
Missing at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863 [supposed killed].

Charles David, Westport.
Discharged at Baltimore, spring of 1863, for disability.

William H. Dodge, Hamilton.
Killed at battle of Opequan Creek, Sept. 19, 1864.

Manton Everett, Boston.
Died, April 16, 1863, from wounds received at Bisland, April 13.

Turner Ewell, Jr., Marshfield.
Discharged, Aug. 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

James W. Emerson, Melrose.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James W. Fish, Marshfield.
Died in Savannah, June, 1865, of typhoid fever.

Francis H. Fish, Marshfield.
Discharged, Feb. 13, 1863, at Baltimore, Maryland, for disability.

Seth O. Fitts, Marshfield.
Wounded at Opequan Creek, September 19, 1864.

Charles C. Gilson, Manchester.
Regimental and Brigade Postmaster from spring of 1863; mustered
out, July, 1865.

James Green, Marshfield.
Sun-struck in Valley of Shenandoah; mustered out, July, 1865.

Albion Hatch, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Andrew W. Hatch, Marshfield.
Died, August 22, 1864, at New Orleans, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Charles P. Hatch, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Israel H. Hatch, Marshfield.
Discharged, Dec. 3, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Albert Holmes, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

James R. Howard, Melrose.
Discharged, Dec. 5, 1863, at Boston, for disability.

Richard Hargrave, Hamilton.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Nathan H. Holbrook, Holliston.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Alvan A. Hasty, Westport.
Wounded at Port Hudson, June 14, 1863; discharged, Dec. 15,
1863, at Boston, for disability.

Wilbur F. Harrington, Marshfield.
Died, June 10, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

George A. Jenks, Westport.
Discharged, Nov. 27, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Alfred S. Jewett, Manchester.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Lewis Josselyn, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Eli C. Josselyn, Marshfield.
Discharged, July 15, 1864, at Boston, for chronic diarrhœa.

George R. Josselyn, Marshfield.
Died, Sept. 15, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

John Kendall, Westport.
Discharged, Feb. 13, 1863, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Ira P. Knowlton, Hamilton.
Transferred to Invalid Corps, Dec. 12, 1863.

Elisha A. Loring, Malden.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Benjamin Lynde, Melrose.
Died, August 18, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Leonard H. Miller, Waltham.
Died, July, 13, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Dwight Metcalf, Holliston.
Taken prisoner at Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, 1864; sick in Richmond,
Va., Feb. 22, 1865.

David J. Mixer, Brookline.
Taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar Creek, Va.; died Jan. 18,
1865, in Salisbury, N. C.

Charles A. Nichols, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Otis B. Oakman, Hanover.
Discharged, Nov. 26, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Newton Organ, Malden.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles W. Osborne, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Charles F. Perry, Marshfield.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Edmond Philips, Marshfield.
Wounded in hand, May, 27, 1863, at Port Hudson, La.; discharged,
August, 24, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La.

George E. Richardson, Melrose.
Taken prisoner, Oct. 19, 1864, at Cedar, Creek; died at Salisbury,
N. C., Nov. 3, 1864.

Martin Ramsdell, Jr., Marshfield.
Discharged, Dec. 4, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., for disability.

Freeman A. Ramsdell, Jr., Marshfield.
Died, June 4, 1863, at New Orleans, La., of chronic diarrhœa.

Turner Stetson, Hanover.
Discharged, Nov. 27, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Arthur B. Shepard, Hanover.
Died, Feb. 26, 1863, at Carrollton, La., of typhoid fever.

Francis T. Sheldon, Hanover.
Discharged, Jan. 26, 1864, at Boston, for disability.

Josiah Stoddard, Jr., Marshfield.
Died, Nov. 19, 1862, at Baltimore, Md., of typhoid fever.

Larkin W. Story, Manchester.
Discharged, Aug. 17, 1863, at Baton Rouge, La., for disability.

Samuel H. Sanford, Jr., Westport.
Mustered out, July, 1865.

Sanford White, Weymouth.
Transferred to Invalid Corps, Sept. 26, 1863.

Sylvanus H. Wight, Westport.
Detailed as hospital assistant nearly two years; mustered out July,
1865.

Job H. Perkins, Roxbury.
Enlisted, April 1, 1864; transferred to 26th Mass., June, 1865.

William H. Perkins, Boston.
Enlisted, Dec. 22, 1863; missing while on reconnaissance near
Morganza, La.; returned home after the war closed.

REMARKS ON THE ROLLS.

The Thirty Eighth Regiment received but few recruits after leaving
the State; and consequently it soon became reduced in numbers below
the standard required by the War Department for a full complement
of officers; so that there were no promotions, except to warrant
offices, after the second year. Previously to being mustered out,
complimentary commissions were issued, corresponding to the vacancies.

In the foregoing rolls of the various companies, whenever the date is
not mentioned in connection with a sergeant or corporal, it is to be
understood that he held the original appointment.

The name of the town to which each man is credited, except in two or
three instances, is the one for which he enlisted, and is not always
his place of residence.

Should any reader discover any error in the foregoing rolls, he will
confer a favor upon the author by informing him of it.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.

Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Main text:
Pg 5: ‘the arrival or the’ replaced by ‘the arrival of the’.
Pg 32: ‘amusing court-martials’ replaced by ‘amusing courts-martial’.
Pg 38: ‘Thirth Eighth were’ replaced by ‘Thirty Eighth were’.
Pg 55: ‘an aid from the’ replaced by ‘an aide from the’.
Pg 66: ‘galloping of aids’ replaced by ‘galloping of aides’.
Pg 72: ‘minnies went whistling’ replaced by ‘minies went whistling’.
Pg 129: ‘building shantees’ replaced by ‘building shanties’.
Pg 161: ‘of Col. Macauley’ replaced by ‘of Col. McCauley’.
Pg 215: ‘serve tits full time’ replaced by ‘serve its full time’.
Pg 224: ‘Disablrd Soldiers’ replaced by ‘Disabled Soldiers’.
Pg 227: ‘and his aids’ replaced by ‘and his aides’.
Pg 228: ‘of beautiful address’ replaced by ‘of a beautiful address’.

Regimental Roll:
Pg 246: ‘Sept. 19, 1865;’ replaced by ‘Sept. 19, 1864;’.
Pg 246: ‘June 14, 1865’ replaced by ‘June 14, 1863’.
Pg 249: ‘Mnstered out’ replaced by ‘Mustered out’.
Pg 261: ‘Disharged, June 14’ replaced by ‘Discharged, June 14’.
Pg 261: ‘at Raton Rouge’ replaced by ‘at Baton Rouge’.
Pg 261: ‘received in ao’ replaced by ‘received in action’.
Pg 274: ‘Willliam H. McKay’ replaced by ‘William H. McKay’.
Pg 282: ‘June 14, 1864’ replaced by ‘June 14, 1863’.
Pg 289: ‘July, 1863’ replaced by ‘July, 1865’.
Pg 294: ‘June 31, 1863’ replaced by ‘Jan. 31, 1863’.
Pg 294: ‘Oct. 19, 1865’ replaced by ‘Oct. 19, 1864’.
Pg 296: ‘died, April 20, 1864’ replaced by ‘died, April 26, 1864’.
Pg 304: ‘chronic diarhœa’ replaced by ‘chronic diarrhœa’.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The story of the Thirty Eighth regiment of Massachusetts volunteers" ***

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