Chapter IX

1865.

NEW BERNE,--HARTFORD, CONN.

Company "H," (Captain Barnum,) who escaped capture at Plymouth, by being detached and sent to Roanoke Island for duty in April, 1864, was reinforced now and then by men who had previously been detached for special service, or were absent sick, also by a few who were exchanged from time to time, representing every company, and this composed the 16th regiment in actual service. Captain Barnum labored with much zeal under many difficulties, to preserve the former prestige of the regiment. During December the regiment proceeded to Plymouth, and went thence on an expedition to Poster's Mills, about ten miles, destroying the mills and a large quantity of grain, and returning with various spoils. On another occasion the regiment went to Hertford, where they captured large quantities of cotton, tobacco, finished carriages, and buggies, several thousand feet of lumber, several mules, and forty contrabands. And again one bright night Captain Pomeroy with sixty men proceeded by steamer up the Alligator river, capturing a barge and three small sail vessels containing twenty-five hundred bushels of shelled corn, together with the outfit of fifteen men with their mules and carts. They were intending to take the corn to a mill near by to be ground. The regiment also made several unimportant raids to Columbia, Edenton, and the adjoining country, until March 4th, 1865, when they were ordered to New Berne, N.C., where the exchanged prisoners joined them and remained on provost duty. Most of the officers were quartered in the houses at the corner of Craven and Union streets. Colonel Beach having been released from Libby Prison in May, 1864, was assigned to various duties in Washington, only once rejoining what remained of the regiment. That was at New Berne, where he was taken sick and soon departed on sick-leave.

Colonel Frank Beach was a graduate of West Point Academy, class '57. He was stationed at first at Fortress Monroe, as a brevet second lieutenant of artillery.

At a later date he was ordered to the far west with General Gibbon, and took part in the well-known Utah expedition in 1858. The sufferings of that campaign and the winter encampment on the prairie were shared by him, as well as the almost unendurable _ennui_ of later days, when Digger Indians or inimical Mormons were the only society accessible to the small garrison.

When the war broke out Colonel Beach was post adjutant at Port McHenry near Baltimore, and remained in that position for some time. He took some share in McClellan's advance, and was stationed at Yorktown as an officer of artillery. But in the summer of 1862, he was permitted, by special order of the war department, to accept the colonelcy of the Sixteenth Connecticut regiment which had been tendered him by Governor Buckingham. He commanded the regiment at the battle of Antietam, showing great personal bravery and heroism during the engagement. He galloped hither and thither on his white horse over the field, trying in vain to draw the men out of the desperate charge into which they had been ordered, and sad and full of woe was his heart on the night after the struggle, when the broken remnants of the Sixteenth gathered around him in the rear of the battle ground. He made personal inquiry after each of the wounded, and visited a number of them on that evening and the following days, doing for them all that was possible.

The winter which followed made him an invalid with a disease whose seeds had been laid in the Utah campaign. But, as he was reluctant to leave the regiment, he accompanied it in an ambulance on the long marches down Virginia to Fredericksburg. With him, and sharing the same ambulance, was Colonel Griffin Stedman, the heroic commander of the Eleventh Connecticut, still lame from Antietam wounds. They became firm friends, and not unfrequently in those cold evenings the ambulance would harbor a merry party, which, by the light of a hospital lantern, and in the sight of the surrounding camp fires, would speed the long hours by merry conversation. Major Converse, Adjutant Barnum, (both fallen) and Dr. Mayer would bear them company.

The greater part of that winter the Colonel remained with the regiment, but was finally forced to take sick leave. He returned to it in the summer at Portsmouth, Va., and held command during the siege of Suffolk, and the charge on Longstreet's army. Then he conducted it to North Carolina, where he remained in command of a brigade, until at Plymouth, he was taken prisoner with the regiment and all the other troops that garrisoned this surprised out-post.

After the war Colonel Beach was for some time in command of a solitary fort near Washington. He was soon after stationed at Washington, and then at Fort McHenry. His old trouble having reappeared with more than its former violence and persistency, he was placed on the retired list, and endeavored to regain his health, but with only temporary success. He died at New York, in the New York hotel, on Wednesday evening, February 5th, 1873.

Colonel Beach was a gentleman of very handsome appearance and strong masculinity of deportment. He was widely and well read, and as thoroughly acquainted with the progress of modern philosophy and science as with the prominent poets and writers of _belles lettres_ of all ages. He had an elegant yet terse method of expression, and a flashing quality of wit. But no man was of kinder heart, and in the regular army his good nature had become proverbial. In his first connection with the Sixteenth Connecticut Regiment under unfortunate circumstances, many misunderstandings between him and the men gained ground. This, as in some other regiments, was owing to the jealousy with which the volunteer soldiers, fresh from home, regarded regular army officers, and to the disagreeable impression the necessities of army discipline made on them. But, a little later, and at the close of the war, there was not a man of the regiment who was not warmly attached to the Colonel, admired him, was proud of his bravery, his military knowledge, bearing, and of his standing in the army. "Little Moustache," and "Black Eye," the men used to call him among themselves, and they made a boast of him to those of other regiments. He was as splendidly endowed with all the qualities that make the true and noble man, as with all those that please and captivate in society. For years a sufferer from a harassing disease, yet few came in personal contact with him but will regret his demise as that of a person of fine and polished intellect, and engaging manners, and of a great-hearted gentleman.

Surgeon Mayer who was exchanged in May, 1864, was ordered to the Foster General Hospital at New Berne, N.C. There he remained in charge of four wards until the latter part of September, when the Chief Surgeon of the hospital went north, and he succeeded to the charge of the institution. Immediately afterwards the yellow fever broke out. Its ravages in the city of New Berne and among the garrison are a matter of general history. There were only a few of the Sixteenth at New Berne at the time, and most of these had been detailed as clerks or nurses to the hospital, at Surgeon Mayer's suggestion. Jasper A. Winslow, Company "C," who at his own request, through the Surgeon's influence, was ordered there as clerk, took sick at once, and died in a few days. W. Chester Case, Company "H," was doing clerk's duty and proved very efficient at this terrible time. He held out courageously, and kept the reports of the dying, of their places of burial, of their possessions and accounts, until he himself was seized with the fever. When it is considered that sometimes as many as thirty or forty died in one day at the hospital, an idea may be formed in regard to the difficulty and labor of keeping reports. Under Surgeon Mayer's personal treatment Case and a few other Sixteenth men, sick at New Berne, recovered. But at last he took sick himself. For two days it was doubtful whether he would live. Then, some favorable symptoms occurred, and Medical Director Hand sent him to Morehead City. After a two weeks convalescence, he returned to New Berne, where Surgeon Rice and Surgeon Cowgill, who had been in charge since his sickness, lay also attacked by the fever. He took charge again and so continued until his appointment to a different office. During the epidemic, eighteen assistant Surgeons had shared his labors, all of whom had in succession been attacked by the fever, which carried off nine of them.

General Palmer, in recognition of Surgeon Mayer's services, appointed him Medical Purveyor of the district, and this office he held until the muster out of the regiment. A complimentary order was issued to him. His management of the hospital during the yellow fever time, and his administration of the Medical Purveyor's department, met with general praise.

The Doctor says: "I got out of the hospital where over five hundred died, and had saved seventy patients above the general average; and I got out of the Medical Purveyor's office, where I had some million dollars worth of property to administer and was square with the United States Government, all but fourteen pounds of nails, which I couldn't account for; so I may consider myself fortunate. But the Quartermaster's Department kept writing for those nails every quarter for four or five years."

In May it was generally conceded that the war was ended, and Captains Dickerson and Turner resigned and went home. Adjutant Clapp also resigned while home on leave of absence, and Lieutenant Landon was made Adjutant. June 19th, Major Pasco returned from Connecticut, with the necessary muster rolls and papers to enable us to complete the muster-out rolls. Then both day and night did the officers work on discharge papers and muster-out rolls. Finally on Saturday, June 24th, the rolls were examined and we were honorably mustered out of the service, at 5. P.M., by Captain John D. Parker, A.C.M., Second Massachusetts heavy artillery, the men remarking, while standing in line, waiting patiently; "that while it did not take long to enlist, it took a long time to get mustered out." It proved quite true; for while we enlisted for three years, it was not supposed that we should be out more than three or six months at the most; and many of the men enlisted expecting to return in a short time, not one of us realizing the hardships and sufferings we must pass through. But who of us regrets the faithful service performed for our country. How many around us to-day do we see who blush and say the greatest mistake they ever made was that they did not go to the war. How many would say as did a prominent man to me, the day we returned home; "I would give fifty thousand dollars to have seen and been through what you have."

The regiment participated in the following

ENGAGEMENTS.

_Antietam, Md._--September 17th, 1862. Loss in killed, four
commissioned officers, 38 enlisted men; wounded, eight
commissioned officers, 176 enlisted men; captured, 12 enlisted
men; _Total Loss, 238._

_Fredericksburg, Virginia._--December 12, 13, and 14, 1862. Loss
in wounded, one enlisted man. _Total loss one._

_Edenton Road, Suffolk, Virginia._--April 24, 1863. Loss in
killed, one enlisted man; wounded, seven enlisted men. _Total
loss, eight._

_Providence Church Road, Suffolk, Virginia._--May 3, 1863. Loss
in killed, two enlisted men; wounded, one commissioned officer,
seven enlisted men. _Total loss, 10._

_Plymouth, North Carolina._--April 20, 1864. Loss in killed, one
enlisted man; wounded, one commissioned officer, 11 enlisted
men; captured, 23 commissioned officers, 400 enlisted men.
_Total loss 436._

CASUALTIES.

Killed in action, 47
Died of wounds, 45
Died of disease, 73
Died in prison, 177
Shot in prison, 1
Supposed shot while attempting to escape from prison, 1
Lost at sea from burning steamship "General Lyon," 1
Drowned from accident, 1
Drowned from collision of "Black Diamond," on Potomac
river 7
---
Total deaths, 353

Discharged prior to muster-out of the regiment, 386
Captured at Antietam, 12
Captured at Plymouth, 435
Wounded, 212
Missing, 56
---
Total Casualties, 1454

The regiment as mustered into service numbered, 1007
Recruits, 75
Officers appointed since first muster, 5
---
Total, 1087

Number returning home with the regiment, 131

The officers who returned were:
Lieutenant Colonel John H. Burnham, Commanding.
Major Henry L. Pasco.
Surgeon Nathan Mayer.
Quartermaster Gordon Robins, Jr.
Adjutant Herbert Landon.
Chaplain Charles Dixon.
Captains C.W. Morse, Henry Hintz, Joseph H. Barnum.
Lieutenants George A. Bowers, A.J. Case, Harmy Bruns and
B.F. Blakeslee.

The above list of casualties is far from correct, but is as accurate as can be obtained from the Catalogue of Connecticut Soldiers, issued by the Adjutant General of the state, with some additions well known by surviving members. The casualties were greater rather than less, than the figures given above. The number given as killed, are those who were killed outright; but it is generally believed that a greater number died from wounds than the regiment has been credited with, for within forty-eight hours after the battle of Antietam, nine died from wounds; and out of the seven wounded at the fight on Providence Church road at Suffolk, three died. It is therefore safe to say that forty-five is too low a number of deaths out of 212 wounded. It is also believed that more than twelve were captured at the battle of Antietam. There is also no doubt that the regiment lost at least _two hundred and twenty_, by death from rebel cruelties and starvation. Eighteen can be counted who died immediately after arriving at Wilmington and Annapolis from southern prisons.

The Sixteenth was always called an _unfortunate regiment_; for if there was any special hardship to endure, the regiment was sure to be called on to experience it, either by accident or otherwise. It was our bad luck.

The list of casualties show in how many ways the men were lost. Some of the men and two of the officers never could be accounted for. Lieutenant George Johnson, who escaped from prison at Charlotte, has never been heard from. It is supposed that he was shot by guerrillas, who infested the locality in which he said he was going to reach the Union lines. Lieut. William H. Miller was last seen at Washington on his way to the regiment after having been exchanged. It is supposed that he was taken sick and died in the hospital. Elbert Sutleff, Co. K, was lost at sea by the burning of the steamship "General Lyon." Quite a number of the men who were returning to the regiment after captivity, were on a steamer going down the Potomac river in the night when the boat collided with the "Black Diamond." All the passengers jumped aboard the Diamond, which went down, and the regiment lost seven men. Some of the saved remained in the water three or four hours.

On Sunday, June 25th, the regiment proceeded to Morehead City, and embarked on the steam transport "General Meigs," with the 23d Massachusetts Regiment, and the Connecticut Brigade Band, which, learning that we were mustered out and on our way home, had obtained an order from General Palmer to be sent home under charge of Lieutenant Colonel Burnham. The sea being rough we did not leave till the next morning. We arrived at New York late on the afternoon of the 28th. Taking on some rations we proceeded to New Haven, arriving there at an early hour in the morning. Procuring special transportation, we reached Hartford at eight o'clock. Being a Hartford regiment, the citizens had made extensive arrangements to welcome us, but the 18th Connecticut had arrived that morning by boat and while their attention was drawn towards them, the Sixteenth suddenly entered the Asylum street depot. The news soon reached the State House Square, and the bell was rung, and by the time the regiment was in line the Governor's Guard, City Guard, and Colt's Band were on the "double quick," and thousands of citizens were hurriedly approaching the depot. Many who had seen the regiment leave for the war three years before, and now witnessed the decimated ranks were effected to tears. Those who had husbands, brothers, or relatives in the regiment, watched us eagerly and looked strangely into the ranks, hardly believing that any could be missing. One lady, the wife of an officer, was told for the first time of her husband's death. So great was her grief, that friends who accompanied her could hardly get her into a carriage to convey her home.

From the Hartford Courant, June 30th, 1865.

THE SIXTEENTH.

"Everybody supposed that this gallant regiment would arrive here on the 9.45 regular morning accommodation train from New Haven, but the "boys" being accustomed to making surprises secured special transportation and were in the Asylum street depot by eight o'clock. Here they were received by the Governor's Guard, the City Guard, and Colt's band, and escorted up High to North Main street, down Main to State. On the march, though few in numbers, (but one hundred and thirty enlisted men returning) their tidy and soldierly appearance was the subject of general comment. Being a Hartford regiment there was an unusual interest manifested to see them, and signs of welcome were apparent on every hand. Arriving in front of the United States Hotel, they were drawn up in line, and Governor Buckingham made a brief speech congratulating them on their safe return and extending them cordial greetings on behalf of the State."

Hon. Ezra Hall was then introduced, and welcomed the regiment in behalf of the city in an eloquent manner as follows:

_Officers and Soldiers of the Sixteenth Connecticut_: Heroes of
many a hard-fought battle, and worthy veterans of a redeemed
country! On a beautiful summer day in 1862, when the nation was
in its greatest peril, and rebel powers seemed successful for a
time in driving back the armies of the Republic, placing in
jeopardy all our hopes and every interest of free government,
you, more than a thousand strong and valiant men, volunteered to
place your names upon the muster-roll among the country's
defenders. That roll of honor will go down the centuries and in
the far off future the lover of freedom will unroll the scroll,
and call your names as among the heroic volunteer force who
cemented the _Union_ of these States, and proclaimed through the
immortal Lincoln, freedom to all mankind. It was hard to leave
your situations, your homes, and those you loved. And a sharper
pang would steal along your feelings as you thought the step
might take you forever from the dear New England hills and all
you held dear. But manfully you resolved, and the pensive
feelings that evidenced so well your better life, while
preparing for the decision, made you braver as you stood on the
enemy's grounds, striking for the very homes you left, and the
government of your fathers. But the question was decided for
country; and you went out from your homes to camp. Hard were
your pillows, and the long and weary days went slowly on.
Friends gathered to see you in your tents, and to pay you a
tender tribute ere you went out to battle. They chatted and
counselled with heavy hearts, but asked holy benedictions for
your safety and through you for the country. Who of you can
forget the stirring emotions of those meetings and partings. For
a few days you drilled and disciplined for the coming strife.
The order came. You struck your tents--passed down the very
streets on which we stand, with colors flying and music
measuring out the solemn step of war. No braver regiment ever
went out from our city or State. Made up mostly of Hartford men,
born and cradled under the very branches of the Charter Oak, we
knew well what would be your history, and we watched with pride
your firm and steady ranks, as you filed along these streets. As
we followed with anxious eye the steamer winding down the
Connecticut, bearing its precious freight, with the Stars and
Stripes streaming in the wind, we felt a security and an
indebtedness, which we now have all come to acknowledge. You
went to New York, passed the capital of your country, and in a
few days stood on the bloody fields of Antietam. There, in the
old Ninth corps, under the faithful Burnside, you first realized
war, and stood on the fated field of death. That was a sad day
for the 16th Connecticut. Two hundred of your comrades, officers
and men, had fallen, and when the shadows of evening closed on
that historic day, your hearts, sad and broken, went up in
thankfulness to God for your preservation. Well do I remember
the sadness that settled over this city, as the news came across
the wires that death had cruelly thinned and decimated your
ranks, and that among the brave who had fallen were the noble
Captains Manross, Drake, Brown, and Barber; but you had only
time to bear out the noble two hundred to their sepulture, and
to place some humble stone to mark their rest, before you were
ordered to the fields of Fredericksburg.

There bravely you stood through three long days of battle. From
there you moved to Suffolk, where your ranks were again broken,
and the brave Capt. Tennant fell--he who was beloved at home and
dear to the Hartford City Guard, of which he was a member, and
who followed him with reversed arms and bowed hearts, to yonder
church yard where now he sleeps. Peaceful will be his rest, and
sacred his memory, for he died for country and humanity. Slowly
the days went by as you were garrisoned at Portsmouth, and long
were your marches from Plymouth to New Berne. You will never
forget, but will tell over to your children through all the
coming years of your lives, how after a long siege by the rebels
at Plymouth, nearly your entire regiment was captured, and
taken away to rebel prisons at Macon and Andersonville; how of
the four hundred and four unfortunate captives who entered
Andersonville prisons, more than half were borne out lifeless
and cold. My blood chills when I remember that more than two
hundred of this regiment were starved and murdered in Southern
prisons--imaging more perfectly the hell of secession and the
barbarism of Southern institutions and chivalry, than any other
page of the war. But you have been preserved to come back to
your homes, and to watch again the flag of your country waving
over your native city. You well remember how beautiful it looked
to you when first you saw its colors after the hour of your
deliverance came, and you passed the rebel lines. That flag
to-day symbolizes the greatest freedom and the most perfect
nationality. "'Tis the banner of all the West," that of a nation
now pronounced--

"The heir of all the ages in the foremost files of time."

But your work is done and your history is sealed. In the name of
those for whom you fought and who have gathered here to do you
honor it is my privilege to say a thousand times welcome home.
Your thinned ranks, your torn colors, give convincing proof of
your deeds of bravery The state will hang your tattered flag in
yonder capitol, and claim with pride your history, and through
all the future of the country, her sons will love, respect, and
honor you as the brave soldiers who fought in the last great
battle for freedom.

But our city has a special interest in your history. You have
been led by the honored Col. Beach; and the name of your
Lieutenant-Colonel, he who would not leave his regiment for the
colonelcy of another, he who has been with you in the camp, in
the battle, in the prison and on the march until now, than whom
there is none better, or braver on all the veteran roll, his
name, John H. Burnham, has long been with us as a household
word. Think it not strange that the Hartford City Guard extends
a warm and earnest welcome to you, for the names of Burnham,
Cheney, Tennant, Pasco, Burke, Lockwood, and Blakeslee, are all
ours. As brothers we have watched your history during all these
years of war. But while you are privileged to return all covered
with honor and glory, and are to go to your homes, to be
welcomed by mothers, wives, sisters, and lovers, noble patriotic
women, in whose life there dwells the tenderest sentiment for
you and country ever unlocked from the starry skies,--while you
are to enjoy all this, I cannot forget the brave, devoted boys,
comrades in all your trials until death, who will never, never
come home again. They died, as you have fought, for country, for
the restoration of law and order, for the complete emancipation
of a race, for the eternal principle of liberty, and for the
final solution of the great problem of self-government. They
fell away from home and friends, and most of them rest in
Southern graves, but though they fell thus, they died at their
posts. History will keep fresh their memories, and write their
names on more than granite shaft or marble column.--

After an eventful life and a noble death, they rest well.

"Sleep sweetly, tender hearts, in peace,
Sleep, holy spirits, blessed souls,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll."

The friends of the dead of your regiment are more than of the
living, and my heart was sad as I saw the tears start in the
eyes of the little child, the tender maiden and the mother with
her little ones, as they looked in vain among your passing ranks
for their friends. But they will never again watch their
returning footsteps, or hear the sweet sound of their voices. No
words of mine can heal their wounded hearts. I can only say they
have the highest claim upon the nations' gratitude. The noble
deeds of their martyred dead will ever live in the archives of
the State, and their memories will be embalmed forever in the
feelings of the American people.

Thrice welcome then, tried and faithful veterans of the
republic. Go bear your honors and your trophies to your homes,
and around your own hearths be as great and good as you have
been in war.

Breakfast was provided for the regiment at the Trumbull House and United States Hotel, after which a short street parade was had, the City Guard and Colt's band furnishing escort. Arms were then stacked in the armory of the Guard, and the regiment was dismissed, the men being allowed to go to their homes as most of them live in this vicinity, and fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and wives were waiting to extend _their_ welcome. Before leaving the armory Colonel Burnham read the following farewell order:

HEADQUARTERS 16TH CONN. VOLS., INFANTRY,
Hartford, Conn., 29th June, 1865.

General Orders No. 10.

_Soldiers of the Sixteenth Connecticut_--Glad as I am that the
war is over and we are all to rejoin our families and friends
again, I cannot repress a feeling of sadness at the thought of
severing, perhaps forever, the ties that have bound us together
for the last three years. Although a less amount of glory in the
field has fallen to our lot than to some others, no regiment
from the State has been subjected to so much suffering. Whatever
you have been ordered to do, you have done promptly, cheerfully,
and well; and whenever in future I am asked of what in all my
life I am proudest, I shall always answer "that I belonged to
the 16th Connecticut, in the Union army." Placed in charge of
the regiment under circumstances that might have made my task a
difficult one, it will always be a source of the highest
gratification to me to remember that I received the generous
support of all, and to the effective co-operation of every
officer and the high character of the men, belongs entirely the
credit of the fine soldierly appearance and superior military
condition in every respect you so soon acquired, and have not
failed to maintain to this day. For those gallant comrades who
have laid down their lives on the battle-field and in the
hospital, and for those heroic men who have endured so much more
than death in Southern prisons, let us shed a silent tear and
ever cherish their memories tenderly in our hearts.

You are about to go to your homes to enjoy in peace the
blessings of the great and good government you have done your
share to defend and preserve to our magnificent country, and I
desire that each one of you should take with him my sincere
thanks, for the cordial and hearty support you have given me,
and the cheerful manner in which you have performed every duty
required of you while I have the honor to be your commander.
Wishing you every success that you can desire, and trusting you
may find in your restored firesides all the comfort and
happiness you have so nobly earned, I bid you an affectionate
farewell.

JOHN H. BURNHAM,
Lieutenant-Colonel 16th Conn. Vols. Infantry.

On July 8th, the regiment assembled in Hartford, and were paid in full, except the officers who received their pay when returns were made and all property properly accounted for. Thus ended the organization known as the Sixteenth Regiment Connecticut Volunteers. Its record is a credit to the State and an honor to every man who has shared in its fortunes.

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