Well do I remember, how fifty years ago,
Down on the banks of the Mississippi,
We met the Southern foe,
And faced a storm of shot and shell;
That many a life was sacrificed
Mid battle hell of smoke and flame
On the field of Port Hudson.
Well do I remember, how those days,
The gallant Third Brigade went
Marching down into the woods
Like men on dress parade;
Though from the wood in front
The foe their deadly missiles sent.
Thinning our ranks
Those days at Bloody Port Hudson.
How on the left the Connecticut Thirteenth engaged in desperate fight
And left in front the Twenty-fifth was marshaled on the right;
Side by side, New York and Maine for honors did contend,
When Rebel yell and Yankee cheer was heard at Port Hudson.
And though we drove away the foe
How dear was victory won,
For when the din of battle ceased,
The burning sun shone down upon the bloody field
And shone on foe and friend,
Who bravely met a soldier's fate,
That day on the field of Port Hudson.
Now fifty years have gone,
How soon they pass away,
Since we did wear the army blue;
And now we wear the gray,
For time has turned our hair to gray,
To show us near the end,
And soon will none be left to
Tell the tale of Port Hudson.
Were I to pledge those bygone days
Oh this would be my toast:
"Here's to the dear old Stars and Stripes,
Our country's pride and boast;
Here's to the Union Volunteers,
Who did the flag defend,
And here's to my old comrades
Who fought at Port Hudson."
August 8th. It was a beautiful morning and we were in camp waiting for
orders to start. We had orders to be ready to go on board the Steamer
Thomas Scott at twelve o'clock. At two o'clock we were gliding down the
old Mississippi. We stopped at New Orleans, took some horses aboard and
started again at about six o'clock. Arrived at the mouth of the
Mississippi at midnight. Here we waited for a pilot, took him on board
and was off again.
August 9th, Sunday. At 6:30 o'clock we passed the bar, left the pilot
and in a short time were out of sight of land. The captain of the boat
said he would land us in New York by Saturday night, if all went well.
August 10th. It was a fine morning and we were enjoying ourselves with
a deck passage at that.
August 11th. This morning we passed several lighthouses; one was upon
Tortugas Island.
August 12th. The old steamer was making good speed. Comrade Chadwick
died last night; this morning he was buried at sea. He was a member of
our regiment and enlisted from Andover, this state.
August 13th. This morning was very fine, but the ship rolled and
pitched considerable, owing to being in the Gulf Stream.
August 14th. The old ship was making good speed and we were hoping to
get into New York harbor by Saturday night, as it was getting pretty
tiresome on the old filthy vessel, with the vermin almost unbearable.
August 15th. This was a beautiful day and the old steamer continued
making good time.
August 16th. The day was fine and we expected to get into port at night
and our expectations were realized, about seven o'clock after being in
this dirty place for a whole week.
August 17th. We arrived in port last night but had to stay upon the
ship another night. I managed to get a small loaf of bread and if I
remember correctly, I wasn't long devouring it, for we had had nothing
but hard-tack and raw salt pork to eat and condensed water to drink
since we went aboard the ship at New Orleans. This (Sunday) morning we
were allowed to go ashore and were kept penned up till about night when
we went aboard the good-looking old boat, City of Hartford. We arrived
in Hartford, if my memory serves me correctly, at about 10 o'clock
Monday morning, August 18th, 1863, and I guess we were about as tough a
looking set of fellows as ever came off the boat. Yes, I must admit, we
were a pretty hard looking set, what there was left of us, for we had
dwindled down to less than one-third the number which left Hartford
about a year previous. What a change had come over us. Why, some of our
friends didn't know us, we had changed so. One comrade in particular I
will mention, Wm. Goodrich. He went from Glastonbury in my company. He
was a big fine looking man, weighing two hundred and fifty pounds when
we went away, and when he came home he hardly weighed one hundred and
fifty. Was it any wonder that our friends couldn't recognize us with
the beards we had grown on our faces, and the soiled clothing we were
wearing? Well, I finally reached home and you can imagine how glad I
was. I think that I felt much as the Prodigal Son did when he returned
home. To get my clothes off and get into a good bed, (which I had not
done for about a year) and to be cared for by a kind and loving mother,
I never felt more like singing, "Home, Sweet Home."
In closing this sketch of the gallant Twenty-fifth Regiment, I would
say that war, as far as my experience goes, is not the thing it's
cracked up to be. Though anyone can get used to all kinds of horrid
sights, in a measure, I could tell some things that I don't think one
would care to hear. But I will omit all description as it is best
learned by experience. I think scant justice has been done to the
Nineteenth Army Corps and General Banks, inasmuch as the field of
action while in Louisiana was far away and until the fall of Port
Hudson, was cut off from the North except by the sea. The public
attention was taken up in the States along the border and even our
great victory at Port Hudson was eclipsed and looked upon as a
consequence of the fall at Vicksburg. But they did a great deal of hard
fighting and made hundreds of miles of hard marchings in a climate to
which the men were not accustomed.
An Interesting Incident.
It was in the Spring of 1863, and General Banks had inaugurated the
campaign which ended in the capture of the last stronghold. We had
marched to the very outworks of Port Hudson, and engaged the
Confederate forces, on that historic night, when lashed to the maintop,
high above the boiling surges, stout-hearted, Farragut, drove his
vessels through the storm of shot and shell, that was hurled upon him
from the heights above, and cut the Rebel communications between Port
Hudson and Vicksburg. These two fortified places were the only ones
left on the Mississippi River, not in our hands. Grant, was already
hammering at Vicksburg, but before Port Hudson could be invested, it
was necessary to dispose of Confederate General Taylor and his forces,
who from their position in the South, could fall upon our unprotected
rear or make a dash for New Orleans. Returning then, to our camp at
Baton Rouge, after a few days' rest, we were suddenly divided into two
forces, one marching down through the country, to engage the enemy at
New Iberia, and the rest of us sent around by water and up through the
Atchafalaya to intercept and cut them to pieces. It was only a partial
success. Driven from their position in Fort Bisland, they fell upon us
before we were fairly in position, and held us in check while the whole
army slipped by. Then commenced a long pursuit, enlivened by daily
skirmish and fighting which lasted from the shores of the Gulf to
Shreveport, in the extreme northwestern corner of the state where they
were driven across the border into Texas.
It was on this march that the incident occurred which I am about to
narrate. We had been marching all day, in fact, from before the dawn,
trying to reach the Bayou Vermillion, before the enemy could destroy
the bridge. Men fell out by the scores, but still we hurried on with
all the speed our wearied limbs could support. Just as it was growing
too dark to see, a battery opened upon us, and there was a sharp charge
of cavalry. We were hastily thrown into position to receive them, but
in an instant, wheeling, they dashed across the bridge, destroying it
in our very faces before it could be prevented.
The next day was Sunday and while we camped there waiting for the
construction of a new bridge, about half the advance division took the
opportunity to strip and go in bathing. Suddenly, without an instant's
warning, a troupe of cavalry dashed down the opposite bank, and opened
fire upon us. Such a spectacle never before was seen. The long roll was
sounding and naked men, in every direction were making a dash for their
guns, trying to dress as they ran. Some with their trousers on hind
side before, didn't know whether they were advancing or retreating, and
some ran the wrong way, others, with simply a shirt and cap, were
trying to adjust their belts. Officers were swearing and mounted aids
were dashing about, trying to make order out of confusion.
The next day we were ordered to Barry's Landing, to act as guard for a
steamer coming up through the bayous with supplies, and here my story
properly begins. It was April 22, 1863, and the regiment, exhausted by
the conflict of the 14th, and the rapid march ensuing, following hard
upon the track of Taylor's flying forces, from Franklin to Opelousas,
was resting at Barry's Landing, when suddenly the whole camp was thrown
into a ferment of excitement by the news that the paymaster had
arrived, and would be at headquarters at 12 o'clock. Oh, welcome news
to men who had been without pay for six months. How the eye glistened,
and the mouth watered for the leeks and flesh-pots of Louisiana!
What visions of Sutler's delicacies opened up once more to those whom
long-tick had gradually restricted to a Spartan diet of hard-tack and
salt pork. What thoughts of home and the money that could be sent to
loved ones far away, suffering, perhaps for lack of that very
money--but how to do it,--there was the question. Here we were in the
very heart of the Rebel country, two hundred miles at least from New
Orleans, in the midst of an active campaign. No opportunity to send
letters except such as chance threw in the way, and no certainty that
such letters would ever reach their destination. Added to this, came
the order to be ready to march at four o'clock. Whither we knew not,
but the foe was ahead, and our late experience had taught us that life
was but an uncertain element and that a Rebel bullet had a very
careless way of seeking out and finding its victim. In the midst of all
the bustle and confusion, the sergeant-major, William E. Simonds came
tearing along through the camp excitedly inquiring for Lieut. Goodell.
That estimable officer, I am sorry to say, having received no pay,
owing to some informality in his papers when mustered in from second to
first lieutenant, had retired into the shade of a neighboring magnolia
tree, and was there meditating on the cussedness of paymasters,
mustering officers, the army in general. In fact, everything looked
uncommonly black and never before had he so strongly believed in
universal damnation. To him, then, thus communing came Sergeant-major
Simonds, and said: "You will report for duty at once to headquarters;
you are directed to receive the pay of the regiment and proceed
forthwith to New Orleans, there to express same home, returning to the
regiment as soon thereafter as practicable."
The rest we will let Lieut. Goodell tell in his own way:
* * * * *
How the Pay of a Regiment Was Carried to New Orleans
by Lieutenant Henry Hill Goodell.
"Gone at once were my sulks, vanished in an instant my ill-humor,
black demons and everything. Though I could not help wondering how
in all creation I was going to perform a journey of several hundred
miles that would occupy a week at least without a cent of money in
my pocket, a clerk was detailed to assist me, and for the next hour
I counted money over a hard-tack box, jamming it away instantly
into my haversack while he entered in a little book the amount
received from each person, the sums given to pay for its expressage,
and the addresses to which it was to be sent. No time to make
change. Even sums were given, counted, and tucked away with rapidity.
At the landing was a little stern-wheel steamer, captured from the
Rebels, which was to leave from Brashear City in an hour or two.
The sick and wounded were hastily transferred to it, and as the
regiment marched off, I stepped on board with my precious haversack,
now swollen out to unwonted proportions. Not a state-room, not a
berth was to be had. There was no safe in which I could deposit
valuables. Too many knew what I was carrying, and I dared not for
an instant lift the weight from my shoulder or to remove my sword
and pistol. Like Mary's lamb, where'er I went, the haversack was
sure to go.
[Illustration: HENRY HILL GOODELL
Deceased
Served as 2nd and 1st Lieutenant, Co. F, 25th Regiment,
Connecticut Volunteers.]
"Never shall I forget the beauty of that sail, and but for the
feeling of distrust and suspicion that made me look upon every man
that approached me, as a personal enemy, I should have thoroughly
enjoyed it. We were dropping down one of those little bayous that
intersect the state in every direction. The spring freshets had
swollen the stream and set its waters far back into the forests
that lined its banks on either side. Festoons of Spanish moss,
drooped like a mourning veil from bough to bough. Running vines
with bright colored sprays of flowers twined in and out among the
branches of the trees. The purple passion flowers flung out its
starry blossoms to the world, the sign and symbol of the suffering
Saviour. While the air was heavy with the scent of magnolias and
yellow jassamine. Crested herons, snowy white, rose from the water,
and stretching their long necks and legs out into a straight line
with their bodies winged their flight above the tree-tops. Pelicans
displayed their ungainly forms, as they snapped at the passing fish
and neatly laid them away for future reference in their pouches.
Strange birds of gaudy plumage flew from side to side, harshly
screaming as they hid themselves in the dense foliage. Huge
alligators sunned themselves along the shore, or showed their
savage muzzles, as they slowly swam across our path. Frequently at
some sharp bend, it seemed as if we must certainly run ashore, but
the engine being reversed, the current would swing the bow around
and by dint of hard pushing with poles, we would escape the
threatened danger, and start again in our new direction. Sunset
faded into twilight, and twilight deepened into the darkness, and
silence of a Southern night, and then the entire loneliness and
responsibility of my position suddenly overwhelmed me. I had no
place to lie down, and hardly dared sit for fear of falling asleep.
It seemed as though I could hear whispers behind me, and every now
and then I would catch myself nodding, and wake with a cold chill
running up and down the small of my back, as I felt sure that some
unlawful hand was tampering with my burden. With the coming of the
dawn, I breathed more freely, and the day seemed interminable, and
it became a very burden to live. Twice we broke down and tying up
to a friendly tree repaired the damage. Night came again and found
us still miles away from our destination. It was horrible. I walked
the deck, drank coffee, pinched myself. 'Oh, if I can only keep
awake!' I kept repeating to myself. But at 2 o'clock in the morning
we broke down again, with the prospect of being detained some
hours. I knew that if I did not reach Brashear City by 7 o'clock I
should be another dreary day on the way, and lose my connections
with the single train for New Orleans. Time was an element of
importance, for I should lose the mail steamer for New York and be
delayed in my return to the regiment which I had left in the heart
of Louisiana marching onward--I knew not where, but with faces set
toward the North.
"Finding that we were distant from eight to twelve miles across
country according to the different estimates, I determined to make
the attempt to reach it on foot. Any danger, anything seemed
preferable to staying on the boat. With the first breaking of the
dawn, when I could get my bearings, I slung myself ashore. A
private in my regiment discharged for disability, begged to
accompany me. With weapons ready for instant use, we pushed along,
afraid of our own shadows, looking for a lurking foe behind every
bush, and when some startled bird suddenly broke from its cover,
the heart of one at least stood still for a moment and then
throbbed away like a steam engine. If a man was seen, however
distant, we dropped to cover and watched him out of sight before we
dared move. For the first mile our progress was very slow--now
wading through water, now sinking in the mud, floundering about as
best we could, while the mosquitoes and gnats settled down on us in
swarms, uttering a triumphant buzzing as though they recognized the
fact that they had fresher blood to feed on than that offered by
the fever-stricken victims of the South and were determined to make
the most of their opportunity. But the open country once reached we
lengthened out our steps and struck into a six-mile gait. Soon my
companion began to falter and fall behind. But I could not afford
to wait, telling him I presumed he was all right, but I could not
run any risks, I stood him up by a tree and taking his gun, marched
off a couple hundred yards, then laying it down I shouted to him to
come on, and, setting off at the top of my speed, saw him no more.
Whether he ever reached his destination or whether wandering
helplessly along--he was swooped down upon by some gorilla, and led
away to starve and die in a Southern prison, I did not learn for
many years. At the last reunion I attended, I was called upon to
respond to the toast 'The Postal Service of the Regiment, and What
You Know About It,' and at the conclusion of my remarks, a stout
grizzled veteran grasped my hand and said: 'Look, I'm glad to see
you. I thought it pretty cruel to leave me alone in Dixie, but you
had warned me beforehand and I guess you were right.'
"Avoiding the houses and striking across the fields, I made the
last part of my way at full run, and drew up panting and exhausted
at Berwick Bay shortly after six. Not a moment was to be lost. I
could hear the engine puffing across the waters. Shouting to a
darkey, who seemed to rise up preternaturally out of the ground, I
ordered him to row me over; and a more astonished man I think I
never saw than he was. When on reaching the opposite shore, with
but ten minutes to spare, I bolted from the boat without a word,
and started on the run for headquarters. The general was asleep,
but an aid carried in my pass, signed by General Banks, brought it
back countersigned, and in five minutes more I was aboard the train
moving on to New Orleans.
"Of this part of my journey I have a very indistinct remembrance.
My impression is that I dozed whenever I sat down, and I was so
tired I could hardly stand. I had had nothing to eat since the
night before and was faint and exhausted with hunger, and my
exertions. Nothing but the special training my class had taken in
gymnasium during the previous year, for just such an emergency,
pulled me through the long run and long fast following it. It was
only a run of 100 miles but I think we must have stopped to wood
and water at every cotton-wood grove and swamp along the way; and I
remember at one of these periodical stops, going out on the
platform, and falling into an altercation with a little red-headed
doctor, who, whether he had scented my secret or not, with that
divine intuition for discovering the hidden, peculiar to the craft,
had made himself officially offensive to me, and now, wanted to
borrow my revolver to shoot a copper-head that lay coiled up by the
side of the track. Refused in that, he next wanted to examine my
sword, and when under some trifling pretext, I abruptly left him
and going inside the car, sat down as near as possible to a
bluff-looking lieutenant, whose honest face seemed a true
indication of character, his wrath knew no bounds and was quite
outspoken. 'Peace to your injured spirit, oh fiery-headed son of
Esculapius, if you are still in the land of the living! I here
tender you my humble apologies. Doubtless you intended nothing more
than to compare the efficiency of my leaden balls with one of your
own deadly Bolouses or to see how my cleaver compared in sharpness
with one of your own little scalpels.' But at that particular time
I should have been suspicious of my own brother had he desired to
inspect or use my arms.
"It was late Saturday afternoon when, tired and faint, I landed in
the city. Pushing straight to the office of the Adams Express
Company, I told them I had the pay of a regiment to express home
and wanted five or six hundred money order blanks and envelopes. I
shall never forget the look of incredulity with which the clerk
looked at me. I was dirty and ragged, just in from the front, with
no shoulder-straps, for we had been ordered to remove them and
diminish the chances of being picked off by the sharpshooters but
had sword and pistol and an innocent looking haversack hanging at
my side. However, he said not a word, but passed over the papers.
"My next adventure was in a saloon where on calling for a drink of
whiskey, I was informed that they were not allowed to sell to
privates. On my throwing down my pass signed by Gen. Banks, the
courteous keeper acknowledged his mistake, and invited me to take
something at his expense. Immediately after supper to which--it is
hardly necessary to say--I was accompanied by that confounded
haversack, I fairly loathed it by this time--I retired to my room,
locked the door and went to work. Excitement kept me up and by 2
o'clock everything was done. The money counted and placed in the
envelopes, and the blanks filled out, and the footing correctly
made. Then, only did I know how much I had carried with me and how
precious were the contents of my haversack. Barricading my door,
with the table, and wedging a chair in between it and the bed, I
thrust the haversack between the sheets, slid in after it, laid my
revolver by the pillow, and in an instant was sound asleep. The
next morning on going down to breakfast I innocently inquired of
the clerk in the office if he would give me a receipt for
valuables. 'Certainly,' was his smiling rejoinder. 'For how much?'
'Twenty-four thousand three hundred and forty-six dollars,' I
replied and half opening my haversack, showed him the bundles of
express envelopes, explaining that it was the pay of a regiment.
'Where did you keep this last night?' was the next question. 'In my
room.' 'You d---- fool, it might have been stolen.' 'True, but I
thought it would be safe enough and besides I did not know how much
I had.'
"Breakfast over I repaired at once to the office of the express
company and by noon, with my receipts in my pocket, I stepped
forth, feeling as if a gigantic load had rolled from my shoulders.
"Of my journey back there is no need to speak; suffice it to say
that two or three weeks thereafter, one night as the sun was
setting, I stood with beating heart on the levee, outside of
Simsport on the Red River, waiting for the coming of the regiment
on its march down from Alexandria. Column after column passed and
still I waited. But suddenly I caught the roll of drums and there
came a dimness over my eyes, for I recognized familiar forms. The
colonel riding at the head, the little drum major, the colors and
each well known face. As they came up I saluted, someone recognized
me, and called my name. Instantly the cry, 'Lieutenant Goodell has
come!' swept down the line, and with one mighty shout, the boys
welcomed back the bearer of their pay. That night I went from
camp-fire to camp-fire and gave to each orderly sergeant the
receipts for his company. Of all that money, only one envelope went
astray, and the express company made good the loss."