The 7th of November, 1861, will ever remain in the history of the war
as one in which a grand victory perched upon the banner of the Union;
when treason and rebellion received a blow from which they never fully
recovered. The members of the old Sixth will not soon forget the
events that transpired. Our gunboats were occupied several hours in
getting into position to do the most effective service, and after
forming into a circle, with the grand old frigate Wabash taking the
lead, they sailed around once and then opened fire upon those
strongholds of rebellion. The enemy were evidently expecting something
of the kind, for they returned the fire with great promptness. Fort
Walker, on Hilton Head, seemed determined to drive the Union fleet
away from the harbor, while Fort Beauregard, on Bay Point, which was
opposite, played comparatively a small part, for all her shell fell
short of the mark. As the boats moved nearer and nearer the engagement
became more general, and shot and shell flew like hail through the
air; those of the enemy doing little execution, while our shells seemed
to stir up the sand around and in their batteries at almost every
fire. The troops on the transports watched the engagement with intense
interest, while broadside after broadside were poured into those
doomed works of treason. Orders were signalled to have the troops
prepare, in light marching order, to land at short notice. We were
confident the battle would be short and decisive, as the rebels could
not withstand such terrible odds. As the battle raged, our boats
directed a part of their fire into the woods that skirted the shore on
Hilton Head. What could that be for? was the query; when it was
announced that the rebels were routed and were retreating through the
woods; and such we learned to be a fact, as they could easily be
discerned by the glass, making their escape in that direction. A few
more well-directed shots, and the firing ceased; then we knew the
victory was ours. A boat was lowered and manned by a picked crew of
man-of-wars men, who pulled for the shore with great speed, landed and
made their way into the fort on Hilton Head and raised the glorious
stars and stripes on the rebel flag staff. Words cannot describe the
events that followed in a few brief moments. The battle had been waged
precisely five hours when the victory was announced. Liberty was
triumphant over the despotism of slavery. The different bands on the
steamers struck up the national airs, songs were sung, and cheer after
cheer rent the air from thousands of throats, while the loud huzzas
swept through the fleet like a whirlwind, and not a few prayers arose
to the God of battles for giving us such a signal victory.
Thus was witnessed the first naval engagement of the war. Preparations
were now made to land the troops, as it was feared the rebels would
rally and contest the possession. The Connecticut troops were selected
to land first, and the Sixth, with Lieut. Col. Ely in command, were
put aboard the steamer Winfield Scott, while the Seventh, under Col.
Terry, was in boats in tow of the steamer. The steamer ran as near the
beach as she could, when we got into lighters and jumped into the
swelling surf--a cold bath for us at 10 o’clock at night, with water
up to armpits, our arms upstretched, with our rifles and cartridge
boxes to “keep our powder dry;” but all were in good spirits and
seemed willing to undergo any hardship to save the Union and the
suppression of the infernal Rebellion.
We took possession of the rebel works after we landed, without making
any formal demand therefor, and not until we landed did we know what
dreadful havoc our shells had made; the sight beggars description. The
dead and wounded lay in heaps, and the air resounded with groans and
petitions for help. We built huge fires to dry ourselves, stationed
our pickets and lay upon our arms, not daring to explore the island
very far the first night, for fear of an ambuscade. The night was
spent without sleep, as we were thoroughly drenched through, and we
were glad to hail the morning light. A detachment of three companies
under Lieut. Col. Ely explored the lower part of the island, and met a
few of the enemy who had not succeeded in getting away; had a brisk
skirmish with them, in which they retreated. The detachment brought
into camp two fine brass howitzers, with a valuable pair of horses,
besides seventy other horses, six mules, six wagons, two yoke of oxen,
together with other valuable property of a total value of $50,000; but
no credit was ever given us, not even a quartermaster’s receipt.
The island of Hilton Head was very rich and fertile; the cotton fields
were ripe, waiting for the second picking. The palmetto tree was green
and the air as balmy as June. Sweet potatoes were plenty, to be had
for the digging. Every building near the fort was riddled by our
shells, while the tents were torn into shreds. Our surgeons provided
for the wounded as well as they could with the means at hand. Many of
the dead were literally torn to atoms, and some were half buried where
they fell; guns were dismounted, army wagons smashed, and many fine
horses and mules lay in heaps. During the bombardment, a rebel gunner,
wearing a red shirt, was noticed by our fleet to occupy a very
prominent position on the parapet, and was seen to pat his gun every
time he fired it, and we found one arm with a piece of red flannel
upon it near the gun, which seemed to be all that was left of him; he
was evidently blown to atoms. Those who succeeded in getting away
alive must have beat a hasty retreat, for knapsacks, blankets and
rifles lay in confusion all around, and were found at almost every
step for miles through the woods. The armament of the fort was 22
heavy guns, most of which were rifled and of the most approved
pattern; and two heavy globe-sight rifled cannon, the gift of some
_neutral_ English friends to the Confederate States.
For a short time Uncle Sam’s rations were at a discount, as the
trophies of war in live stock seemed abundant. Pigs were roaming at
will, only to be confiscated by a soldier; chickens and geese were
found in large numbers, and we regaled our palates with sweet
potatoes, sugar cane, roast pig and broiled chickens. The commissary
stores of the rebels were probably larger at this time than during the
latter days of the confederacy. But after a while of sumptuous living,
we were obliged to fall back on our regular salt junk and hard tack.
After the stars and stripes, the State flag of Connecticut was the
first to wave over South Carolina soil, and the Connecticut troops
made the first advance into the interior. 120 head of beef cattle,
numerous porkers, large quantities of chickens and other fowls were
brought in from the adjoining plantations in the days that followed,
but these latter captures had to be turned over to the Quartermaster,
except occasionally some fowl or porker that was slyly appropriated by
a soldier for a “side dish” to accompany the junk and tack. We made
frequent skirmishes over the island, but the foe had departed and the
negroes were the sole occupants of the homes of their masters. The
groves of orange trees at Seabrook’s plantation were very fragrant,
and the ripe fruit was quickly disposed of as contraband of war. We
scouted out to the plantation owned by one Graham, which was about
five miles from Hilton Head. There we found quite a village of
negroes, who seemed pleased to see the “Yankees,” as they termed us;
and on our inquiry as to the whereabouts of their masters, their reply
was, “I dunno, massa; dun gone for true dis time; spect him a right
smart way off.” The plantation of “Squire Pope,” as the negroes called
him, was a lovely place, indeed. The fine old southern mansion was
situated in a large grove of live oak trees, with ample grounds neatly
fenced. Large groves of orange trees, whose fragrance filled the air
and gave evidence of the home of contentment and wealth, but the
occupants had fled and left their household goods to the mercy of the
soldiers. Two spacious libraries were in the house, filled with books.
Heavy plate glass mirrors and fine oil paintings adorned the walls,
which, together with the rich furniture, made the place seem too good
to be destroyed by the ruthless hand of war.
Our forces were busily engaged in unloading the transports of their
cargoes; piles of lumber were brought ashore and three large
storehouses were erected on the island to hold Uncle Sam’s rations;
and everything indicated that Uncle Sam was to hold possession.
Wheelbarrows, pickaxes and shovels were numerous, and we soon learned
their use. A long line of earthworks was thrown up by the troops for
protection from any advance that might be made. While we remained at
Hilton Head we became very proficient with the shovel and pick, and
for a time our rifles became rusty; but the same could not be said of
our shovels.
The early months of winter, 1862-3, the Sixth remained on the island,
perfecting themselves in drill and awaiting orders; and the 20th of
January found us with orders to embark on a secret expedition under
Gen. Wright. We were hurried aboard of the steamer Cosmopolitan, a
boat much too small to accommodate our regiment; but we were informed
that our stay aboard would be of brief duration--perhaps only a day or
two would elapse before we should land. We accepted the situation, as
it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. A storm set in and
kept the fleet in the harbor for nearly a week; after which we weighed
anchor and dropped down to Warsaw Sound, Ga., with the idea of
avoiding Fort Pulaski and capturing Savannah by the way of an inlet. A
long experiment was made by our gunboats, while the transports with
the troops lay in Warsaw Sound. Commodore Tatnall, of the rebel navy,
with his “mosquito fleet,” as it was named, made several assaults on
our gunboats, but was invariably compelled to withdraw without any
advantage gained. Our condition on shipboard was deplorable; so
cramped were we for room that when we lay on the decks at night one
could not walk among the sleeping forms without stepping on a soldier.
For sixteen days we were fed on salt pork and beef, and no vegetables,
with hard tack that was full of vermin, and water that had been put in
kerosene oil barrels three months before. The water was so thick in
one barrel that the writer saw, it could be lifted up on the finger.
It was so nauseating and foul that when poured into the sea, the water
was discolored by it. We had no water to cleanse our bodies, save what
the sea afforded, and salt water without soap is not very good to
cleanse with. Dirt and filth prevailed to an alarming extent, and
“gray-backs,” as the boys called them, accumulated upon our bodies in
a fearful manner. As one Dutchman expressed it, he had lice so big,
“shust like wheat.” None were exempt from these pests, from the Colonel
down. So alarming was our condition that the whole brigade was ordered
ashore that we might bathe and wash our clothes while the boats were
fumigated. Scarcely had we landed ere the whole beach presented a
ludicrous appearance--a sight of which a “special artist” might
envy--that of a brigade of soldiers stripped to the waist, picking off
these vermin. We remained ashore one day and then returned to our old
quarters on board the ship, and in a short time were as filthy as
ever. Severe sickness in the form of “spotted fever” broke out in the
ranks of the Sixth in consequence, and became so aggravating that
there was an average of four or five deaths daily. Large strong men
were attacked in the morning and before night were dead. It baffled
the skill of our surgeons, who worked with untiring zeal to break up
this dread malady. Death seemed near at hand; and to pass away by a
foul disease contracted by being kept amid such filth was hard to
contemplate. All expressed a desire rather to face all the guns of the
rebel army than to meet death in this manner.
A religious interest sprang up and prayer meetings were held in the
cabins every evening. Many were converted and a large number professed
Christ as their only hope. The Division Surgeon came on board and
pronounced our condition as a very critical one, and said we must be
sent back to Hilton Head to recruit; so back we went, although we would
have preferred to go with the fleet if our quarters had been suitable
to stay in. News of our illness reached the Head before we did, and
when we landed, there were none to bid us welcome; all the soldiers
kept at a safe distance. We pitched our camp on the old parade ground
of the Ninth Maine Regiment, but no soldiers ventured near to greet
us, as is usual on such occasions. One regiment sent us some coffee,
bringing it as far as our camp guard and leaving it for us to take at
our pleasure.
Being once more on mother earth, with plenty of exercise and the
facilities for keeping clean, the regiment rapidly improved in health,
deaths became less frequent, and we felt like ourselves once more. As
soon as practicable we were detailed to work on the fortifications,
and the pick and shovel were not allowed to rust. The 20th of March
again found us under marching orders; this time our destination was
Dawfuskie Island. We embarked in the morning and landed at 10 o’clock
at night; marched through the woods to the end of the island opposite
Fort Pulaski. A drenching rain made our march very wearisome, and we
were glad enough to find a chance for rest a short time before
daybreak.
Dawfuski Island was a beautiful place. The groves of orange and fig
trees were in blossom and their fragrance filled the air. The
pomegranate and persimmon looked fine indeed, and the plantations were
beautified with many choice flowers in full bloom. The Sixth made
several reconnoissances up New River, toward Savannah, and watched the
enemy in that direction. Part of our regiment was selected to occupy
Jones Island, which was on the Savannah River, about midway between
Fort Pulaski and the city. A few companies of the Forty-eighth New
York Regiment had preceded us and were engaged in building a fort to
prevent the enemy from reinforcing Pulaski. We built a corduroy road
across the island by laying several tiers of logs across each other;
and it was with extreme difficulty we could gain a foothold, as the
mud was so soft we would slip and go down knee deep into the mud. None
but Connecticut Yankees would have thought it possible to fortify
themselves in such a place. There was not a tree or shrub on the whole
island; nothing but tall rank sea grass. We pitched our tents in the
mud; banked them up with mud, and it was mud everywhere. At some of
the high tides the entire island was covered with water to the depth
of several inches. The writer has a vivid recollection of being
awakened one night with the water surging into his ears, and we were
all obliged to get up from our bed of sea grass and wait for the tide
to recede, with no more sleep that night. The confederacy and its
leaders did not receive very flattering compliments from the Union
soldiers about this time, or the writer’s ears deceived him.
We managed, however, by excessive labor, to build a fort of mud, with
the assistance of a few bags of sand which we got out of the river
when the tide was low. The hot southern sun baked the mud quite hard
as we piled it up, and by degrees we managed to get a foundation
secure enough to mount nine heavy guns, which we drew across the
island by night. The task was very laborious, and many gave way to
fevers and other diseases, which made extra duty for those who managed
to survive. Day after day we worked in mud and water up to our knees.
The gnats and mosquitos were so thick we tied cloths around our heads
to get a partial relief from the insects. Our water for cooking and
drinking purposes we got from the river; it was brackish and insipid
enough, and many sighed for a cooling draught from the old oaken
buckets of our northern homes.