The Sixth Connecticut Regiment left Beaufort on the evening of the
18th of March, bound down the coast. We passed several places of
interest on our journey, among which were Mayport Mills, Fernandina
and Fort Clinch. Deserted plantations lined the banks of the river and
everything had the appearance of war’s desolation. In trying to cross
the bar and enter St. John’s River we got aground, and after several
ineffectual attempts, we finally succeeded by the aid of a tug-boat,
and our destination, Jacksonville, was reached on the morning of the
20th of March. One U. S. colored regiment were the only troops in the
town. We did not pitch our tents here, but occupied the houses which
had but recently been vacated. We found in many of the houses
everything necessary for housekeeping, even to beds and bedding. So
hastily was the retreat of the chivalry from this place that many
valuable household goods were among the trophies. Large quantities of
eatables were found buried in stone pots, some quaint looking guns and
almost every article needed for house use. Quite a number of families
of rebel proclivities remained in the town, who were either unable to
get away after we took possession, or else were unwilling to lose
their household goods. We barricaded the streets and avenues leading
out of the town by felling trees across the roads to prevent the
incursions of the rebel cavalry which infested the woods back of the
town.
Jacksonville was once a watering place and home for invalids, and many
of our northern people resorted there during the months of winter to
enjoy its salubrious climate. It must have been an inviting retreat in
its palmiest days. Everything here seemed to have been laid out for
comfort and convenience, unlike many places which we have visited. But
alas! how things had changed. Houses that were once the home of wealth
and luxury were now the abodes of the Union soldier. Gardens laid out
with the choicest flowers were trampled under foot by horses of our
cavalry; the stores were closed, the goods removed; and business at a
standstill. A few negroes lurked around the town, who were glad to get
under cover of the Union arms. Co. “F” of the Sixth occupied the fine
old mansion belonging to Col. Pierson of the rebel army, which was
situated on the corner of Market and Duval streets, opposite the
Episcopal Church. There many of the troops resorted and the organ was
in constant use.
The first Sabbath we spent in Jacksonville we attended service and
listened to a very able discourse by the Rev. Mr. French; his subject
was “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon.” The church was densely
crowded with white and black soldiers, navy and army officers and
civilians. In the course of his remarks he alluded to the deserted
city and why the inhabitants had left it, fearing their lives would be
in danger if they remained till the so-called Yankees made their
advent in their midst. He expressed himself quite well pleased with
the conduct of the white troops, and especially the Sixth Connecticut.
He said Gen. Hunter had selected the Sixth above all others to occupy
this place and protect the remaining inhabitants from the lawlessness
of the rebel cavalry. He assured us our position was not an enviable
one, as we were in a bad place and the woods swarmed with rebel
cavalry, waiting only their chance to surprise us; but he (the
speaker) was confident that the enemy would not catch us napping, and
when brought to the foe, would meet them with determined bravery. We
were quite pleased with the speaker’s allusion to our regiment, and he
was personally thanked by many for the exalted opinion he entertained
for us.
The Eighth Maine regiment arrived here from Beaufort a few days after
we took possession. The rebels frequently annoyed us by shelling the
town with a gun which they had fastened to a railroad car, and would
bring it as near the town as they dared on the track, and then shell
us. Our gunboats were not slow to disperse them, however, and they
were soon driven back. On one of these occasions a shell entered a
house (which the writer visited), passing through the bed-room in
which a man and wife were sleeping, and in its course it passed
through a stuffed-seat rocking chair on which lay the man’s coat,
cutting off the skirts and forcing them through the back of the chair.
The window glass were shattered and two looking glasses hanging in the
room were broken, while the occupants of the bed were literally
covered with plaster and splinters. The lady remarked to the writer
that she was not partial to balls of that kind, and told him if he
ever met Gen. Finnegan (the rebel commander), to present her
compliments with the request that fish-balls would be more acceptable
next time.
We found ourselves busy each day in preventing the raids of the enemy,
and several times were called up at night by the pickets being driven
in. Our force was so small that an advance very far would have been
with a great sacrifice of life for us, and our gunboats prevented a
very long stay of the rebel troops in the town. We suffered no loss of
life in our regiment while here; a few were slightly wounded. An
expedition of the negro troops went up the river as far as the town of
Pilatki, where they surprised a small force of rebels and captured 14;
the rest fled in dismay, fearing a large force was at hand. They also
captured some horses and about $3,000 worth of cotton, which they
brought away in safety. While on their way down the river the enemy
fired upon them, wounding Lieut. Col. Billings of the First S. C.
troops, a ball passing through the palms of both his hands and another
through his leg.
On Sunday, the 29th of March, Gen. Hunter ordered the evacuation of
Jacksonville by all the Union troops. The inhabitants begged
permission to accompany the troops, as their lives were in danger as
well as their property, if left at the mercy of the rebel troops.
Their request was partially granted and they flocked in numbers to the
transports with large quantities of household goods, which so
completely blockaded the room that orders were issued to put the goods
on the wharves again. Large numbers of negroes secreted themselves on
board the boats, fearing to be left behind. As we left the town an old
lady appeared on the veranda of her house wringing her hands and
sobbing as if her heart would break, doubtless sad at our departure. A
large number of the houses and stores were set on fire just before we
got on board the steamers, and as we left the wharves the larger part
of the town was in flames and was probably destroyed. This wanton act
of vandalism was charged upon the negro regiment, and they in turn said
the Eighth Maine Regiment was to blame; no doubt both of these
regiments had something to do with its destruction. It was entirely
unnecessary and uncalled for, and the wanton act of burning a town
would not destroy the Rebellion nor reflect any credit upon those
soldiers of the Union who fired it. Justice should overtake all, and
severe punishment meted out to those who so far forget the bounds of
propriety as to disgrace the honored cause in which they are engaged.
We did not arrive at Beaufort as soon as we expected, owing to a heavy
storm of wind and rain which set in, and as our boats were old and so
heavily laden it was not deemed prudent to venture outside in such a
gale. The storm passed by and we reached our destination in safety on
the morning of April 1st. We pitched our tents, expecting to settle
down again; but the soldier has no abiding place in time of war, nor
does he know one day where he will be the next. After thirty-five
hours in Beaufort, we were off again on another “excursion.”
The rumors in camp seemed to indicate that this time the expedition
was to be more formidable than any previous ones, and this was true,
as the sequel will eventually prove. Large numbers of troops were
being put on board steamers at this place and at Hilton Head; gunboats
were active and all was bustle and excitement. The wildest rumors
prevailed as to our destination; some asserted that we were going to
Virginia, while others claimed Charleston as the most probable place
of attack. The Sixth embarked on the steamer Belvidere and steamed
down to Hilton Head, where we lay for one day awaiting orders; in the
mean time troops were embarking and getting ready to sail. When all
seemed ready, we were off for the conflict and came to anchor in Stono
River, a little below the village of Legaresville. Here we found other
troops had preceded us and were also waiting to land. The monitors and
other gunboats were busily engaged up the river shelling the camps of
the enemy. Two shots from the enemy came in rather too close proximity
to our steamer for safety, and we hoisted anchor and dropped a
distance down the river out of range. The gunboats were engaged nearly
every day for a week in the direction of Charleston, while we remained
on board ship awaiting orders. Finally it was rumored that there was
some trouble existing between some of our officers high in command,
and that the whole force was to be withdrawn. The rumor proved
correct. Admiral Dupont and Gen. Hunter disagreeing in the plan of the
battle, it could no longer avail anything and the whole affair proved
a fizzle. In the meantime Gen. Hunter was relieved and Maj. Gen.
Gilmore appointed to command. Gen. Gilmore was well known for his
engineering skill and also his military prowess.
The morning of April 11th, the fleet withdrew to Hilton Head and
reported, while the different regiments were sent to various posts.
The Sixth encamped at Hilton Head, just outside the breastworks, where
we remained till the 18th of April, when we again embarked and sailed
for North Edisto, arriving there the next morning and anchored in the
stream close to the dock, but we did not land till the 26th, when we
were put ashore on Botany Bay Island, which is near the Edisto. We
were immediately ordered out on a scout of about seven miles, after
the Johnnies; but with the exception of passing a deserted cavalry
camp we saw no evidence of the enemy. We returned to the landing and
went on board the steamer, where we passed four more days, when we
finally made a landing on Folly Island. The island was rightly named,
for a man in civil life must indeed be a fool to think he could live
on such a barren place; but a soldier is expected to live anywhere
where he is sent. The island is a long strip of land about
three-quarters of a mile wide at the widest point, and about four
miles long, lying immediately south of Morris Island, from which the
northern point is separated by only a narrow stream called Lighthouse
Inlet. The lower part of the island runs down to a sharp angle and is
covered with a thick growth of pine and palmetto trees, while the
upper part was a low, marshy swamp. With swarms of sand fleas and
mosquitoes for our constant companions, we pitched our camp on the
sand hills; there could be no order or regularity to our company
streets, for some tents were pitched on a hill, while others were in a
valley. Our fatigue duty was quite arduous, as we were obliged to work
nights, and had to maintain the utmost silence, speaking only in
whispers. From the upper or northern portion of the island, where we
built the batteries, we could see the Johnnies on Morris Island very
plain; but they little thought of the doom that was in store for them.
They suspected no serious movement on our part, and did not think we
had more than one field piece on the whole island. When we were
obliged to fell trees we sawed them in two and lowered them gently to
the ground by means of ropes. All the heavy cannon were brought
through the woods and mounted at night, and then masked by covering
them with leaves and dirt. It was with the greatest secrecy that the
work was pushed forward. The enemy saw none of our troops nearer than
the woods except the picket line, and while we seemed idle by day,
hundreds of shovels gleamed at night by willing hands, while battery
after battery rose up, yet nothing was visible to the rebels. Huge
mortars and parrot guns came from Hilton Head, landed at Stono Inlet
and were dragged slowly and tediously to their place under cover of
darkness. Ammunition was taken forward and concealed every night for
over three weeks. The Sixth found its labors very severe. By moonlight
and during heavy thunder showers the work went steadily forward. At
the end of that time, ten large batteries had been completed, mounting
48 heavy guns and within 400 yards of the enemy’s works.
During the latter part of the time they began to suspect something was
going on, for we could see them strengthen their batteries on the
opposite bank. The rebel pickets were very inquisitive and tried to
question us regarding our position, &c. We were on good terms with
each other, and made miniature ships, freighted them with salt and
coffee, and sent them over to the rebs, and in return they sent us
tobacco. They informed us of the death of “Stonewall” Jackson, and
displayed their flags at half mast and fired half hour guns throughout
the day in honor of the deceased. They generally communicated to us
the news of any battle that occurred sooner than we got it through our
own sources. They seemed to relish a joke occasionally. One of them
informed us that Gen. Beauregard had such an exalted opinion of the
“Yankees” on Folly Island that he was coming over to make us a visit
and give us all a “farm six feet by two.”
About the 1st of July large numbers of troops began to arrive at the
island, and “old Folly” literally swarmed with them. The order was
given for us to capture the battery on the end of Morris Island, and
we expected to make a night attack, so we sewed pieces of white cotton
cloth on the left arm, that we might be distinguished from the foe. At
midnight on the 9th, large detachments of troops stepped quietly into
boats and rowed silently up Folly River; not a word was spoken above a
whisper, nor any noise heard, save the splashing of the oars and the
occasional plunge of the alligators from the river bank. At about 3
o’clock the flotilla of eighty large launches had arrived near Morris
Island, and we were ordered to keep close to shore and under cover of
the tall sea grass that lined its banks. Here we waited patiently for
the dawn of day,--a day that was to bring victory to our flag, but
death to many a brave soldier. We could see from our position the
rebel soldier lazily walking his beat on the parapet, while the smoke
from the dim camp fires slowly ascended skyward. Everything indicated
to us that they were not expecting cannon balls for breakfast nor the
advent of the boys in blue. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the attack,
looked every inch a soldier, as he moved among us giving cheering
words to all. At precisely 5 o’clock, the batteries that we had worked
on so faithfully for weeks, were unmasked to the enemy and opened
simultaneously from 48 guns. The astonished rebels soon replied with
great rapidity. As the ball opened, the inhabitants of Secessionville,
on James Island, crowded to the roofs of the houses till they were
black with them, to witness the battle. Our gunboats shelled the
batteries with good effect, and the enemy discovering our position in
the boats, scattered grape and cannister among us with fearful
rapidity. There we lay in the boats for two hours under a heavy fire,
while the rebels divided their compliments among us and the gunners at
our batteries. The batteries did not seem to have the desired effect
of dispersing the enemy, and Gen. Strong was signalled to land his
forces and charge upon their works. The rebels perceiving the signal
and interpreted its meaning, directed a galling fire at the boats. One
boat of the Sixth was struck and a member of Co. “E” lost a leg which
soon caused his death; another was wounded and the boat overturned,
but was soon righted by help from others and the men rescued. We
pulled for the shore, eager to land, and while a detachment of the
Seventh Connecticut landed first on the left of the rifle pits and
were feeling their way. The old Sixth sprang into the water knee deep
and was soon directly in front of their battery; rushing forward with
bayonets fixed and with an honest Union cheer. The rebels depressed
their guns to rake us as we landed, but the shot struck the ground in
front of us and passed over our heads, and the amazed rebels, seeing
our determination, turned to flee just as we gained the first line of
works, but we were too quick for them, and the Sixth captured 125
prisoners and a rebel flag. Private Roper Hounslow, of Co. “D,” saw
the bearer of the flag making for the rear as fast as his legs could
carry him, when he ordered him to halt; but he would not, and he shot
him through the head. The flag was inscribed “Pocotaligo, Oct. 22,
1862.” It had blood stains upon it which were probably spilled at that
place. Col. Chatfield waved the banner aloft, feeling very much elated
to think we had captured the flag that bore this inscription, for he
received a wound at Pocotaligo. Col. Chatfield led his men to the last
range of rifle pits, which was within a rifle shot of Fort Wagner. The
Sixth had the advance all day. Our flags were riddled with shell, and
the staff of the stars and stripes was broken in three different
places. A rebel ramrod was substituted for the broken staff, and our
flags floated from the only house on the island. This house was the
headquarters for the rebel officers, and when we entered it the coffee
was in cups on the table and breakfast nearly ready; but we did not
stop to eat, as we were looking for water; and seeing the coffee,
disposed of it in short meter. Two solid shot from Fort Wagner came
tearing through the house, demolishing the chimney and scattering the
bricks upon the tables in great confusion. We concluded that we might
be demolished if we remained in there long, so went out; the house being
a good target, it was soon riddled with shell from Forts Sumpter and
Wagner.
We remained at the front till about sunset, under a severe fire
continually. Tired and footsore, with hardly anything to eat, and
without sleep for three nights, we were glad when orders came for us
to fall to the rear and another regiment to take our place. Gen.
Strong was active all day and infused spirit into the soldiers by his
commanding aspect. When we landed he was burdened with a pair of long
military boots upon his feet, and as we jumped into the water these
became so full that locomotion was well nigh impossible, so he pulled
them off and threw them away, going in his stockings. The briars over
the sand hills soon wore the bottoms of these off, and having captured
a rebel mule, got astride of him and went forward with a cheer from
the soldiers. Soon after the battle he appeared among the members of
the Sixth, still astride the mule, who looked jaded enough. “Boys,”
said he, “I don’t look like a General, but you look and have acted
like true soldiers,” and immediately rode away, followed by the cheers
of the soldiers.
It was determined to assault Fort Wagner and capture it with the
bayonet. The Seventh Connecticut was to lead the charge, supported by
the Ninth Maine and Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania. Early on the morning
of the 11th, before the lark was awake, this command silently moved
forward, drove in the rebel pickets and with a cheer rushed into the
ditch and up the parapet, but met a very stubborn foe, who poured
grape and cannister into their ranks. The Ninth Maine, instead of
supporting them, wavered, at such a fearful fire, and ran away, while
the Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania stood their ground. But the battle was
against fearful odds, and they were obliged to retire and give up the
contest. The Sixth lay all night in the rifle pits before Wagner, in a
drenching rain, keeping a sharp look out for any surprise. On the
morning of the 18th they came into camp wet and covered with sand,
weary enough to lay up for a rest; but there is no rest for the
soldier in time of war. Scarcely had we brushed off the sand and got a
bite of pork and crackers before we were ordered to join in the
assault on Wagner at dark. Never was an order more cheerfully obeyed,
especially as the word passed around that Col. Chatfield was to lead
us into action, the Colonel declaring his preference “to stand or fall
with the men of the Sixth,” and refusing the honor of commanding our
brigade, which belonged to him as the ranking officer. The gunboats
shelled the rebel fort incessantly, plowing up great heaps of sand
with one shell, and another perhaps would fill up the crevice. The
broadsides from the New Ironsides were terrific, and the five monitors
in line, together with five other gunboats, seemed to pour shell enough
into Wagner to start several first class iron foundries. Shot and
shell crashed above and within it and we wondered if half of them
accomplished their mission. Before night came, hardly a gun boomed
from Wagner, and many seemed to think an easy victory was within
reach. As twilight approached the whole command lay under cover of the
sand hills, waiting for the order to advance. The Fifty-fourth
Massachusetts (colored regiment) were given the post of honor, the
right of the first brigade, which position belonged to the Sixth; but
at the request of Col. Shaw of the Fifty-fourth, who wanted the black
troops to distinguish themselves, Col. Chatfield granted them their
wish. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the charge, then addressed them. He
said, “Men of Massachusetts, I am going to put you in front of the
chivalry of South Carolina, and they will pour iron hail in your
faces; but don’t flinch; defend the flag and uphold the honor of the
State of Massachusetts.” He further told them “the Sixth Connecticut
was immediately behind them, and I know they will not flinch.” They
fell upon one knee in the sand and with their right arm raised, they
swore they would do it.
The command formed silently on the beach; the men seemed impatient to
move as the scene became exciting. “Close column, by companies,” was
the order given, and the first brigade was off for its work. Steadily
forward we moved, while the gunboats still roared away. At a given
signal they ceased their fire and the order passed to charge. The
rebels waited till we were within range and then poured a volley into
our ranks from their guns on the parapet, while the riflemen rattled
their bullets from the small arms. The Fifty-fourth wavered for a
moment, and that moment was fatal to them; they broke and fled. On
pressed the Sixth through the iron hail, picked our way through the
abatis, descended the ditch and climbed up the steep sides of the
fort, and gaining the parapet, was among the rebels. The flash of a
thousand rifles poured into us, followed in quick succession by hand
grenades. Shrapnel, cannister and grape were freely showered into the
ranks, while we leaped down to the casemates and bomb-proofs, driving
the enemy before us in great confusion. They entered their rifle pits
and checked our further advance. The night was so dark it was hard to
distinguish friend from foe, and a signal from the rebels turned the
fire of Fort Sumpter and Battery Gregg upon the angle of the fort
which we held. In vain did we look for help from the second brigade.
Many a brave soldier had sealed his loyalty with his blood, and Gens.
Strong and Seymour, Col. Chatfield and others, were badly wounded and
carried to the rear. We were virtually without any commanding officer
to lead us. To wait for daylight would have been sheer madness, and the
supporting brigade, terrified by the deadly cannonade, instead of
relying upon the bayonet to accomplish the work, stopped and fired.
The rebels saw the mistake and rallied upon the Sixth, which stood
almost alone within their works. The charge was repulsed, but after
remaining for about three hours under such a deadly fire, we escaped
as best we could, with terrible loss. Had the second brigade supported
us in time, no doubt we could have held it. The Fifty-fourth
Massachusetts Regiment rallied soon after they faltered and came up to
the left angle of the fort, where they finally did good service. Here
Col. Shaw met his death. The Sixth Regiment and the Connecticut colors
were the first in the fort that night. The color-bearer, a German
named Gustave DeBouge, was shot through the forehead while carrying
the colors in the assault, and fell dead upon the flag, his life blood
staining them through. Several brave ones who were near seized them,
but they also fell either dead or wounded. Captain Frederick B. Osborn
of Co. “K,” as brave an officer as ever wore shoulder straps, finally
succeeded in pulling them from under the bodies and bearing them off
in triumph. Our flags were much shattered and torn, but both were
saved from the enemy.
In leaving Wagner that night, the ditch we crossed was filled with the
dead and wounded, and we were compelled to step upon their bodies in
making our escape. Many fell wounded upon the beach, and as the salt
water surged over their bodies and in their wounds, their groans and
cries were terrible to hear. Men begged piteously to others more
fortunate, to remove them out of reach of the incoming tide. Our
return to camp was attended with almost as much danger as our advance,
and many brave men who were spared through the terrible ordeal in the
fort, were either killed or wounded in returning to the rear. Every
foot of ground seemed to be covered by the fire of the enemy’s guns.
Batteries Gregg and Wagner, Forts Johnson, Ripley and Sumpter, besides
two gunboats in the harbor, all directed their missiles of death to
further our destruction while retreating; and how so many of us were
spared through such a terrible conflict, can be attributed only to the
goodness of our Heavenly Father. Truly the God of battles was on our
side.
Our loss was quite heavy, considering the force engaged; the Sixth
being exposed to the deadliest fire, their ranks were pretty well
thinned out and the total figures footed up to 141 killed, wounded and
missing. Many of the wounded brought off the field died the next day.
Among the killed was Lieut. Stevens of Co. “I,” a cannister shot
passing through his heart. He was Ass’t Adjutant General on Gen.
Seymour’s staff, a position he filled with great ability. Having made
military matters a study for a number of years his services were
valuable to the government. His body was brought off the field and
buried beneath one of the lone palmettos. A large influx of surgeons
arrived from the North a few days after the battle, many of whom were
mere boys, having hardly attained their majority, without experience,
and many without common sense, came to Morris Island to assist in
caring for the wounded. A slight wound in the limb was sufficient
cause for them to amputate, and many suffered amputation of limbs that
with proper treatment could have been spared to them. The writer saw a
surgeon’s table improvised on a sand bluff, where these “would-be-surgeons”
were using the scalpel knife in severing the arms and legs of the
wounded, and a great pile lay beside them. Many a victim protested
against this outrage, but was told that it was the only thing that
would prolong life. The victims in many cases died soon after the
operation.
Fatigue duty fell unusually hard upon the troops on the island, and
every night found the Sixth in the trenches, building batteries or
hauling heavy guns to the front. Under fire every day and night, the
regiment suffered the loss of many members by wounds and death. While
at the front one day a flag of truce came from Wagner, borne by a
rebel Captain named Tracy. Capt. Tracy of the Sixth met him and found
that he wanted to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners. Gen. Vogdes
was informed and the terms agreed upon. On Friday, July 24, a large
steamer bearing our wounded, came down the harbor and ran alongside of
one of the monitors. It was said she was a blockade runner and had
recently ran the blockade. Upon her decks were Englishmen dressed in
the height of fashion, talking loudly of the superior intellect of the
southern chivalry. The steamer Cosmopolitan, which had recently been
fitted up as a hospital ship, ran alongside and delivered up the rebel
wounded and the rebels gave us 205 Union soldiers. They also reported
that they had amputated the limbs of 25 and that 50 had died on their
hands. We also learned that they were so indignant because our
government employed negro troops, that when they found Col. Shaw’s
body they dug a deep trench and put the body in and then threw 25 dead
negroes top of it. This circumstance we learned to be a fact, the
pickets in our front having reported the same thing to us.
The Sixth Regiment, so shattered in the charge of the 18th and
depleted in numbers, was ordered to Hilton Head to recruit and care
for the large numbers who were wounded. We landed there on the 31st of
July, commanded by Captain Tracy, who was senior Captain in the
regiment and highest officer for duty. While at the Head the news came
to us of the death of Gen. Strong and Col. Chatfield, both having gone
North to recruit their health. The men of the Sixth cherished very
great affection for their beloved Colonel, and were grieved to hear of
his untimely death.
Col. Chatfield was born at Oxford, Conn., in 1826; was the son of
Pulaski and Amanda Chatfield. He was apprenticed to the carpenter
business in Derby, where he served four years at his trade; after
which he worked as a journeyman. In 1855, having moved to Waterbury,
he was associated with a brother in building, and the firm was widely
and favorably known. Always upright, a man of sterling integrity,
prompt and honorable in all his dealings, he possessed the confidence
and esteem of all with whom he came in contact.
Col. Chatfield was born a soldier; he commenced as a private in the
Derby Blues and was active in raising the Waterbury City Guard, and
afterwards became its Captain. His service with the three months
troops was a fine school in which to display his military genius, and
he caught the true military spirit, which he seemed to infuse into his
fellow soldiers. Subsequently, becoming Colonel of the Sixth, he
brought it to a state of discipline second to none in the service. The
early part of the service seemed too much for him, and he remained at
Annapolis, an invalid, while the regiment was sent on the expedition,
but joined it again in January, 1862. At Pocotaligo he received a
cannister shot in his right thigh, but recovered sufficiently to join
us again in April, when for a time he was placed by Gen. Hunter in
command of the forces at Hilton Head. After serving there for some
time, he was relieved at his own request and permitted to join in the
operations on Morris Island. In the charge on Fort Wagner he was
wounded in the leg, and in attempting to drag himself out, was hit a
second time in his right hand, which knocked his sword out of his
grasp. He was carried to the rear by Private Andrew H. Grogan of Co.
“I,” and Chaplain Woodruff procured transportation for him to his
home. He spoke very feelingly in regard to the charge of his regiment,
and inquired if the colors were safe. Being informed that all that was
left of them was brought off the field, his eyes glistened as he
replied, “Thank God for that; I am so glad they are safe; keep them as
long as there is a thread left.” He was sent home on a steamer, but
the journey was exhausting to him and probably hastened his death.
He passed away from his earthly labors August 10, surrounded by his
family. Just before his death a gleam of consciousness was visible,
and looking up he recognized his weeping family, and expressed his
entire willingness and readiness to depart, and died with hardly a
struggle. Had Col. Chatfield lived he would have distinguished
himself, and no doubt risen high in rank; his record a knight might
envy. His noble deeds and eminently Christian character will ever be
fresh in the memory of the members of the old Sixth Regiment.