AT HOME AGAIN.
From every height our banners bright, their flashing folds display!
The trumpet’s tongue is jubilant with stirring notes today.
The cannon and the merry bells join with our vast array,
And sound a welcome home!
Ye have come from the battlefields of glory and of blood,
Where like a rock ye firmly met rebellion’s rushing flood,
Where o’er the traitors’ reeling ranks triumphantly ye stood,
To find a welcome home.
_James B. Congdon._
As the day of our arrival was the Sabbath, which we dimly remembered
was kept sacred at the North, the commanding officer telegraphed to
Governor Andrew to know if it would do to take his men through Boston
on the Sabbath day. He quickly received the answer, “Come right along!”
So he issued orders to the men to be as orderly as possible, and not
shock the pious people of the Puritan state, and we took the train to
Boston.
How astonished the war-worn soldiers were at their reception! Ours was
the first Massachusetts regiment returning with the proud title of
“Veteran,” and the people had turned out _en masse_ to do us honor. We
marched through crowded streets to the State House, where we received
a welcome from the Governor, and a salute was fired in our honor, on
the Common; then to Faneuil Hall, where a most sumptuous dinner was
prepared for us, of which we were invited to partake, by the Mayor of
Boston.
After dinner, Governor Andrew made an address that will, I think, ever
be remembered by the members of the old 32nd. I cannot remember all he
said, but some of his eloquent words still linger in my memory:
I cannot, soldiers of the Union Army, by words, in a fitting measure,
repeat your praise. This battle-flag, riddled with shot and torn with
shell, is more eloquent than human voice, more pathetic than song.
This flag tells what you have done, it reveals what you have borne,
and it shall be preserved as long as a thread remains, a memorial of
your valor and patriotism.
I give you praise from a grateful heart, in behalf of a grateful
people, for all you have suffered, and all you have accomplished; and
while I welcome you to your homes, where the war-worn soldier may
rest a brief while, I do not forget your comrades in arms who have
fallen, fighting for that flag, defending the rights and honor of
our common country. The humblest soldiers who have given their lives
away, will be remembered as long as our country shall preserve its
history.
As the people gazed on the torn and blackened remnant of the beautiful
silk flag we had borne away with us two years before, it seemed to
tell more eloquently than words could do, of battles won and lost. And
now, after the lapse of thirty-four years, it still, with other battle
flags, is preserved in a glass case in the State House at Boston. If
you should look for it there, it might be difficult to find it among
the many handsome banners hanging there, for it is a mere strip of silk
that seems to be just hanging by a few threads to the staff, a black
and ragged remnant of the beautiful silk flag we took with us to the
front; but we old soldiers are far more proud of it than we were in the
days when it was first presented to us, before it had been consecrated
by the blood of the brave boys who bore it through the storm of battle,
and gave their lives, rather than the flag should be lost to the
regiment. We had a new flag to take back with us, and that also bears
the marks of shot and shell, and is sacredly preserved.
After the dinner was over, we were dismissed, and I made quick time to
New Bedford, where I received a warm welcome from my father, who was
overjoyed to see me.
The first night at home, I went to bed in my old room, but could not
sleep, the feather bed was too soft for me; at last I got up, rolled
myself in a blanket, and laid down on the floor, where I slept like a
top. The feather bed was removed next day, and I slept very comfortably
after that on the straw mattress.
How the happy days flew by, when friends vied with each other in making
my furlough pleasant for me, and doing their best to spoil my appetite
for army rations, with their cakes, pies, and all sorts of good things!
But all too soon we had to say goodbye. On February 17th we once more
started for the South, arriving at camp Liberty two days later, warmly
welcomed by the comrades we had left there, and proud of the title of
“Veteran,” with all that it implied.
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