Chapter II: Part 2

"About three o'clock, an advance of the whole line having been ordered by Sheridan, the regiment charged across the field, Mackenzie riding some ten rods ahead, holding his hat aloft on the point of his saber. The distance to the woods was at least a quarter of a mile, and was traversed under a fire that carried off its victims at nearly every step. The enemy abandoned the woods, however, as the regiment approached. After a short halt it again advanced to a rail fence which ran along the side of an extensive field. Here, for the first time during the whole of this bloody day, did the regiment have orders to fire, and for ten minutes they had the privilege of pouring an effective fire into the rebels, who were thick in front. Then a flank movement was made along the fence to the right, followed by a direct advance of forty rods into the field. Here was the deadliest spot of the day. The enemy's artillery, on a rise of ground in front, plowed the field with canister and shells, and tore the ranks in a frightful manner. Major Rice was struck by a shell, his left arm torn off, and his body cut almost asunder. Major Skinner was struck on the top of the head by a shell, knocked nearly a rod with his face to the earth, and was carried to the rear insensible. General Upton had a good quarter pound of flesh taken out of his thigh by a shell. Colonel Mackenzie's horse was cut in two by a solid shot which just grazed the rider's leg and let him down to the ground very abruptly. Several other officers were also struck; and from these instances as well as from the appended list of casualties some idea may be gained of the havoc among the enlisted men at this point. Although the regiment had been under fire and losing continually from the middle of the afternoon, until it was now almost sunset, yet the losses during ten minutes in this last field were probably equal to those of all the rest of the day. It was doubtless the spot referred to by the rebel historian, Pollard, when he says, 'Early's artillery was fought to the muzzle of the guns.' Mackenzie gave the order to move by the left flank and a start was made, but there was no enduring such a fire, and the men ran back and lay down. Another attempt was soon made, and after passing a large oak tree a sheltered position was secured. The next move was directly into the enemy's breastwork. They had just been driven from it by a cavalry charge from the right, and were in full retreat through the streets of Winchester, and some of their abandoned artillery which had done us so much damage stood yet in position, hissing hot with action, with their miserable rac-a-bone horses attached. The brigade, numbering less than half the muskets it had in the morning, was now got into shape, and after marching to a field in the eastern edge of the city, bivouacked for the night, while the pursuit rolled miles away up the valley pike." Night alone, wrote General Wesley Merritt, saved Early's army from capture.

To the losses of the day the Second Connecticut contributed forty-two killed and one hundred and eight wounded, the proportion of officers being very large.

Unlike their previous severe engagement at Cold Harbor, the regiment had the thrilling consciousness of complete victory to hearten them after this battle, and, later, when the full history of the day was learned, the realization that they had played a part of no little importance in attaining it.

The moment when they were brought into action was a critical one. General Sheridan, in his report summing up the operations of the campaign, said: "At Winchester for a moment the contest was uncertain, but the gallant attack of General Upton's brigade of the Sixth Corps restored the line of battle," and of this brigade the Second Connecticut formed fully half. Upton's report gave high praise to Colonel Mackenzie, and said: "His regiment on the right initiated nearly every movement of the division, and behaved with great steadiness and gallantry."

The victory itself, with the sequel which followed so promptly three days later, had an importance far beyond its purely military value, through its marked effects upon public sentiment throughout the country; it brought to one side jubilant satisfaction, and gave a corresponding depression to the other, and it elevated Sheridan at once to that high place in popular affection which he always afterwards held. That it was "the turning-point of the fortunes of the war in Virginia," was the verdict of a Confederate officer of high rank, and Nicolay and Hay in the "Life of Lincoln" describe it as "one of the most important of the war."

As for the Litchfield County regiment, among its many proud memories, none surely holds a higher place than that of the worthy and effective part it took in this day's work, forming, as it did, so large a part of the brigade which, in the words of General Upton's biographer, turned possible defeat into certain victory.

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General Sheridan's method of operation could hardly be held as dilatory. It would doubtless have commended itself more highly to his men if it had been somewhat more so, when at daylight on the morning after the splendid success of September 19th they were ordered in pursuit of Early's army.

The Confederate forces had taken position on Fisher's Hill, considered the Gibraltar of the Valley, and according to Sheridan, almost impregnable to a direct assault. Two days were occupied in bringing up troops and making dispositions for the attack. The Second Connecticut reached its assigned position on the 21st near midnight, and found itself "on the very top of a hill fully as high as Fisher's Hill, and separated from it by Tumbling River. The enemy's stronghold was on the top of the opposite hill directly across the stream."

On the 22nd more or less skirmishing took place all day. A force had been sent round the enemy's left flank; the attack it delivered late in the afternoon was a complete surprise to Early's men, and an advance by the whole Union line quickly routed them.

To make this charge the regiment moved down the steep hill, waded the stream, and moved up the rocky front of the rebel Gibraltar. How they got up there is a mystery,--for the ascent of that rocky declivity would now seem an impossibility to an unburdened traveller, even though there were no deadly enemy at the top. But up they went, clinging to rocks and bushes. The main rebel breastwork, which they were so confident of holding, was about fifteen rods from the top of the bluff, with brush piled in front of it. Just as the top was reached the Eighth Corps struck the enemy on the right, and their flight was disordered and precipitate. The Second Connecticut was the first regiment that reached and planted colors on the works from the direct front.

They were marching in pursuit all that night and for three succeeding days, until the chase was seen to be hopeless and the army faced northward again. Four killed and nineteen wounded were added at Fisher's Hill to the growing record of the Second Connecticut's losses.

Such complete failure in their campaign had, it was now believed, eliminated the enemy in the Shenandoah Valley. The Sixth Corps was accordingly ordered back to Grant's army before Petersburg after a few days of rest, and was moving toward Washington on its way when there came a sudden change of orders.

Early, reinforced and once more ready, was again in the works he had been driven from at Fisher's Hill. The corps, recalled to join the forces of Sheridan, went into camp along the north bank of Cedar Creek on October 14th, and here there soon took place one of the most thrilling and dramatic conflicts of the war.

"For the next few days," the history of the regiment states, "there was much quiet and a good deal of speculation among the troops as to what would be the next shift of the scenes. The enemy was close in front, just as he had been for weeks preceding the battle of Winchester, but this attitude which might once have been called defiance, now seemed to be mere impudence,--and it was the general opinion that Early did not wish or intend to fight again, but that he was to be kept there as a standing threat in order to prevent Sheridan's army from returning to Grant. And yet there was something mysterious in his conduct. He was known to be receiving reinforcements, and his signal flags on Three-top Mountain (just south of Fisher's Hill) were continually in motion. From the top of Massanutton Mountain his vedettes could look down upon the whole Union army, as one can look down upon New Haven from East Rock, and there is no doubt that the exact location of every camp, and the position of every gun and every picket post were thoroughly known to him. Nevertheless, it seemed the most improbable thing in the world that he could be meditating either an open attack or a surprise. The position was strong, the creek and its crossings in possession of our pickets both along the front and well out on either flank." But Early himself, being in difficulties his enemy knew nothing of, says, "I was compelled to move back for want of provisions and forage, or attack the enemy in his position with the hope of driving him from it, and I determined to attack."

His plan was, like his adversary's at the last encounter, a surprise around the left flank with a feint on the right, and it was carried out on the morning of October 19th with complete success. General Sheridan had been called to Washington a few days before, as no active operations seemed imminent, and the army lay feeling quite secure.

Good fortune attended the attacking forces, and the surprise was perfect. General Merritt writes: "Crook's (Eighth Corps) camp and afterwards Emory's (Nineteenth Corps) were attacked in flank and rear, and the men and officers driven from their beds, many of them not having time to hurry into their clothes, except as they retreated, half awake and terror-stricken from the overpowering numbers of the enemy. Their own artillery in conjunction with that of the enemy, was turned on them, and long before it was light enough for their eyes, unaccustomed to the dim light, to distinguish friend from foe, they were hurrying to our right and rear intent only on their safety. Wright's (Sixth Corps) infantry, which was farther removed from the point of attack, fared somewhat better, but did not offer more than a spasmodic resistance." Nevertheless, they made Early "pay dearly for every foot gained and finally brought him to a stand," as Nicolay and Hay record.

The history of the Second Connecticut tells the story of the day as follows: "Most of the regiment were up next morning long before Reveille and many had begun to cook their coffee on account of that ominous popping and cracking which had been going on for half an hour off to the right. They did not exactly suppose it meant anything, but they had learned wisdom by many a sudden march on an empty stomach and did not propose to be caught napping. The clatter on the right increased. It began to be the wonder why no orders came. But suddenly every man seemed to lose interest in the right, and turned his inquiring eyes and ears toward the left. Rapid volleys and a vague tumult told that there was trouble there. 'Fall in!' said Mackenzie. The brigade moved briskly off toward the east, crossing the track of other troops and batteries of artillery which were hurriedly swinging into position, while ambulances, orderlies, staff officers, camp followers, pack horses, cavalrymen, sutler's wagons, hospital wagons, and six-mule teams of every description came trundling and galloping pell mell toward the right and rear and making off toward Winchester. It was not a hundred rods from our own camp to the place where we went into position on a road running north. General Wright, the temporary commander of the army, bareheaded, and with blood trickling from his beard, sat on his horse near by, as if bewildered or in a brown study. The ground was cleared in front of the road and sloped off some thirty rods to a stream, on the opposite side of which it rose for about an equal distance to a piece of woods in which the advance rebel line had already taken position. The newly risen sun, huge and bloody, was on their side in more senses than one. Our line faced directly to the east and we could see nothing but that enormous disk, rising out of the fog, while they could see every man in our line and could take good aim. The battalion lay down, and part of the men began to fire, but the shape of the ground afforded little protection and large numbers were killed and wounded. Four fifths of our loss for the entire day occurred during the time we lay here,--which could not have been over five minutes,--by the end of which time the Second Connecticut found itself in an isolated position not unlike that at Cold Harbor. The fog had now thinned away somewhat and a firm rebel line with colors full high advanced came rolling over the knoll just in front of our left not more than three hundred yards distant. 'Rise up,--Retreat,' said Mackenzie,--and the battalion began to move back.

"For a little distance the retreat was made in very good order, but it soon degenerated into a rout. Men from a score of regiments were mixed up in flight, and the whole corps was scattered over acres and acres with no more organization than a herd of buffaloes. Some of the wounded were carried for a distance by their comrades, who were at length compelled to leave them to their fate in order to escape being shot. About a mile from the place where the retreat commenced there was a road running directly across the valley. Here the troops were rallied and a slight defence of rails thrown up. The regimental and brigade flags were set up as beacons to direct each man how to steer through the mob and in a very few minutes there was an effective line of battle established. A few round shot ricochetted overhead, making about an eighth of a mile at a jump, and a few grape were dropped into a ditch just behind our line, quickly clearing out some soldiers who had crawled in there, but this was the extent of the pursuit. The whole brigade (and a very small brigade it was) was deployed as skirmishers under Colonel Olcott of the One Hundred and Twenty-first New York. Three lines of skirmishers were formed and each in turn constituted the first line while the other two passed through and halted, and so the retreat was continued for about three miles until a halt was made upon high ground, from which we could plainly see the Johnnies sauntering around on the very ground where we had slept."

Once more could Early claim the credit of a victory of which at night he was to find himself again deprived. Sheridan's famous ride, his meeting and turning of the tide of fugitives, is the feature of the day's occurrences which will always live in the popular memory. It is a significant hint of the scale of such a battlefield to know that the men of the Second Connecticut had no visual perception of his presence that day, though they heard the cheering occasioned by his appearance in other parts of the scene, and in his report there is mention of a meeting with Colonel Mackenzie, whom he tried to persuade to go to the rear on account of his wounds.

The Confederate belief in their victory was not unreasonable, but it was now to suffer an astonishing upset. Weary and demoralized with success, they were entirely unprepared for the vigor of their opponents, who after repulsing their last assault, quickly reformed the lines and prepared for a general advance. Sheridan writes: "This attack was brilliantly made, and as the enemy was protected by rail breastworks and at some portions of his line by stone fences, his resistance was very determined."

The history of the Second Connecticut gives a detailed account of its movement, first against a stone wall in front which after some opposition was abandoned by the enemy, who then "attempted to rally behind another fence a little further back, but after a moment or two gave it up and 'retired.' Not only in front of our regiment, but all along as far as the eye could reach, both to the right and left, were they flying over the uneven country in precisely the same kind of disorder that we had exhibited in the morning. The shouts and screams of victory mingled with the roar of the firing, and never was heard 'so musical a discord, such sweet thunder.' The sight of so many rebel heels made it a very easy thing to be brave, and the Union troops pressed on, utterly regardless of the grape and canister which to the last moment the enemy flung behind him. It would not have been well for them to have fired too much if they had had ever so good a chance, for they would have been no more likely to hit our men than their own, who were our prisoners and scattered in squads of twenty, squads of ten, and squads of one, all over the vast field. At one time they made a determined stand along a ridge in front of our brigade. A breastwork of rails was thrown together, colors planted, a nucleus made, and both flanks grew longer and longer with wonderful rapidity. It was evident that they were driving back their men to this line without regard to regiment or organization of any kind. This could be plainly seen from the adjacent and similar ridge over which we were moving,--the pursuers being in quite as much disorder (so far as organizations were concerned) as the pursued. That growing line began to look ugly and somewhat quenched the ardor of the chase. It began to be a question in many minds whether it would not be a point of wisdom 'to survey the vantage of the ground' before getting much further. But just as we descended into the intervening hollow, a body of cavalry, not large but compact, was seen scouring along the fields to our right and front like a whirlwind directly toward the left flank of that formidable line on the hill. When we reached the top there was no enemy there! They had moved on and the cavalry after them.

"Thus the chase was continued, from position to position, for miles and miles, for hours and hours, until darkness closed in and every regiment went into camp on the identical ground it had left in such haste in the morning. Every man tied his shelter tent to the very same old stakes, and in half an hour coffee was boiling and salt pork sputtering over thousands of camp fires. Civil life may furnish better fare than the army at Cedar Creek had that night, but not better appetites; for it must be borne in mind that many had gone into the fight directly from their beds and had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours.

"Men from every company started out the first thing after reaching camp to look for our dead and wounded, many of whom lay not fifty rods off. The slightly wounded who had not got away had been taken prisoners and sent at once toward Richmond--while the severely wounded had lain all day on the ground near where they were hit while the tide of battle ebbed and flowed over them. Some of the mortally wounded were just able to greet their returning comrades, hear the news of victory, and send a last message to their friends before expiring. Corporal Charles M. Burr was shot above the ankle just after the battalion had risen up and started to retreat. Both bones of his leg were shattered and he had to be left. In a few minutes the rebel battalion which I have already mentioned came directly over him in pursuit, and was soon out of his sight. Then being alone for a short time he pulled off the boot from his sound leg, put his watch and money into it and put it on again. Next a merciful rebel lieutenant came and tied a handkerchief around his leg, stanching the blood. Next came the noble army of stragglers and bummers with the question, 'Hello, Yank, have you got any Yankee notions about you?' and at the same time thrusting their hands into every pocket. They captured a little money and small traps, but seeing one boot was spoiled they did not meddle with the other. Next came wagons, picking up muskets and accoutrements which lay thick all over the ground. Then came ambulances and picked up the rebel wounded but left ours. Then came a citizen of the Confederacy asking many questions, and then came three boys who gave him water. And thus the day wore along until the middle of the afternoon when the tide of travel began to turn. The noble army of stragglers and bummers led the advance--then the roar of battle grew nearer and louder and more general, then came galloping officers and all kinds of wagons, then a brass twelve-pounder swung round close to him, unlimbered, fired one shot, and whipped off again--then came the routed infantry, artillery, and cavalry, all mixed together, all on a full run, and strewing the ground with muskets and equipments. Then came the shouting 'boys in blue,' and in a few minutes Pat Birmingham came up and said: 'Well, Charley, I'm glad to find you alive. I didn't expect it. We're back again in the old camp, and the Johnnies are whipped all to pieces.'"

The victory was as complete and satisfying as it was spectacular; the enemy was at last so thoroughly beaten that a dangerous attitude could not be taken again. It was a fitting close for Sheridan's famous campaign in the Shenandoah Valley.

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To the Second Connecticut the day at Cedar Creek brought losses nearly as heavy as were suffered at Winchester just a month before: thirty-eight killed, ninety-six wounded, and two missing, besides a large number made prisoners,--an entire company having been captured early in the morning while on picket,--of whom eleven died in captivity. These losses were in fact proportionately even larger than those met with at Cold Harbor, as the hard service of the preceding months had reduced the regiment's effective strength to about twenty-five officers and seven hundred men present for duty.

General Sheridan's report on the Shenandoah campaign gave high praise to Colonel Mackenzie, who, as a result of his conduct, received a promotion and was commissioned brigadier-general in December. His disability from the two wounds received at Cedar Creek, however, necessitated his relinquishing the command of the regiment immediately after that engagement, and this devolved upon Lieutenant-Colonel James Hubbard; to him in due course came the colonel's commission, and he led the regiment throughout the rest of its career.

Colonel Hubbard, though born in Salisbury, had lived in the West before the war, and first saw service with an Illinois regiment. Returning to Connecticut, he assisted in raising a company for the Nineteenth, and was mustered in as its captain. He was steadily promoted until the death of Colonel Kellogg brought him naturally to the command of the regiment; but, as has been said, his own modest estimate of his qualifications for this responsibility caused him to decline the appointment. When it came to him a second time he accepted, and proved by his subsequent handling of the regiment a worthy successor to the remarkably able soldiers under whom he had served, winning the brevet rank of brigadier-general in the final campaigns. His ambition was, a comrade wrote, to do his full duty without a thought for personal glory; and he enjoyed in a high degree the respect and affection of his command. He died in Washington, where he lived for many years, on December 21, 1886, and was buried in Winsted.

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The brilliant victories in which the Second Artillery had borne so worthy a part, and the re-election of President Lincoln in November (1864), put an end to all anxieties as to danger in the quarter of the Shenandoah, which before Sheridan's campaign had been a region of fatal mischance to the national cause from the beginning of the war. As a consequence the Sixth Corps was once more ordered to rejoin Grant's army, and the regiment left the historic valley on December 1st, arriving on the 5th before Petersburg, where it was assigned a position near the place of its skirmish on June 22nd.

"Then it was unbroken forest," says its history; "now, hundreds of acres were cleared, and dotted with camps. A corduroy road ran by, and a telegraph, and Grant's railroad. No other such railroad was ever seen before, or ever will be again. It was laid right on top of the ground, without any attempt at grading, and you might see the engine and rear car of a long train, while the middle of the train would be in a valley, completely out of sight. Having reached Parke Station, we moved to a camp near Battery Number Twenty-seven, and went into the snug and elegant little log houses just vacated by the Ninety-fourth New York. This was a new kind of situation for the 'Second Heavies.' The idea of being behind permanent and powerful breastworks, defended by abatis, ditches, and what not, with approaches so difficult that ten men could hold five hundred at bay, was so novel, that the men actually felt as if there must be some mistake, and that they had got into the wrong place."

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For two months no fighting fell to the regiment's lot, for though the Union commanders and armies were ready and eager to make an end of the war as soon as possible, little could be done during the winter. Though this inactivity brought perhaps some relief from the rigors of army life, the men had numerous reminders that they were still in active service. One of the chief events of this season the history of the regiment describes as follows: "On the afternoon of the 9th (December, 1864), the First and Third Divisions of the Sixth Corps were marched to the left, beyond the permanent lines, and off in the direction of the Weldon Railroad, to prevent any attack on the Fifth and Second Corps, now returning from their expedition. After going for about six miles we halted for the night, in a piece of woods. It was bitter cold when we left camp, but soon began to moderate, then to rain, then to sleet; so that by the time we halted, everything was covered with ice, with snow two inches deep on the ground, and still sifting down through the pines. It was the work of an hour to get fires going,--but at last they began to take hold, and fuel was piled on as though it did not cost anything. Clouds of steam rolled out of the soaked garments of the men, as they stood huddled around the roaring, cracking piles,--and the black night and ghostly woods were lighted up in a style most wonderful. The storm continued all night, and many a man waked up next morning to find his legs firmly packed in new fallen snow. At daylight orders came to pack up and be ready to move at once; which was now a difficult order to execute, on account of many things, especially the shelter tents;--for they were as rigid as sheet-iron and yet had to be rolled up and strapped on the knapsacks. Nevertheless it was not long before the regiment was in motion; and after plodding off for a mile to the left, a line of battle was formed, vedettes sent out, trees felled and breastworks built, and at dinner-time the men were allowed to build fires and cook breakfast. Then, after standing until almost night in the snow, which had now turned to sleet, the column was headed homeward. Upon arriving, it was discovered that some of the Jersey Brigade had taken possession of our log snuggeries, and that their officers had established their heels upon the mantels in our officers' quarters, and were smoking the pipes of comfort and complacency, as though they had not a trouble in the world, and never expected to have. But they soon found that possession is not nine points of military law, by any means. An order from Division Headquarters soon sent them profanely packing,--and the Second Heavies occupied."

Though weeks were spent in such comparative comfort and immunity as the present situation afforded, the men felt as if they were resting over a volcano which might break into fierce activity at any moment; and as the winter passed signs of the renewal of the struggle multiplied on all sides.

On February 5th (1865), part of the Second Connecticut was ordered to move out to support and protect the flank of the Fifth Corps, which was engaged near Hatcher's Run, and accordingly left the comforts of the camp and bivouacked for the night a few miles away. The history of the regiment says: "It was bitter cold sleeping that night--so cold that half the men stood or sat around fires all night. In the morning the movement was continued. A little before sundown we crossed Hatcher's Run and moved by the flank directly into a piece of woods, the Second Brigade under Hubbard leading the division and the Second Connecticut under Skinner leading the brigade. Wounded men were being brought to the rear and the noise just ahead told of mischief there. Colonel Hubbard filed to the left at the head of the column along a slight ridge and about half the regiment had filed when troops of the Fifth Corps came running through to the rear and at the same moment General Wheaton rode up with 'oblique to the left, oblique to the left,' and making energetic gestures toward the rise of ground. The ridge was quickly gained and fire opened just in time to head off a counter fire and charge that was already in progress, but between the 'file left' and the 'left oblique' and the breaking of our ranks by troops retreating from in front, and the vines and underbrush (which were so thick that they unhorsed some of the staff officers) there was a good deal of confusion, and the line soon fell back about ten rods, where it was reformed and a vigorous fire poured--somewhat at random--a little to the left of our first position. The attempt of the enemy to get in on the left of the Fifth Corps was frustrated. Our casualties were six wounded (some of them probably by our own men) and one missing. The position was occupied that night, and the next day until about sundown, when the brigade shifted some distance to the right and again advanced under an artillery fire to within a short distance of the rebel batteries and built breastworks. The rebel picket shots whistled overhead all the time the breastworks were building, but mostly too high to hurt anything but the trees. At midnight the division moved back to quarters, arriving at sunrise. Having taken a ration of whiskey which was ordered by Grant or somebody else in consideration of three nights and two days on the bare ground in February, together with some fighting and a good deal of hard marching and hard work, the men lay down to sleep as the sun rose up, and did not rise up until the sun went down."

The routine of picket duty, inspection, alarms, and orders to be in readiness which came not infrequently, continued for another succession of weeks, varied now by the constant arrival of deserters from the enemy, who were coming into the Union lines singly and in large parties almost daily, and revealing the desperate condition on the other side. Preparations went on for what all felt was to be the final campaign; and this opened for the Second Connecticut on March 25th, when the famous assault on Fort Stedman was made by the enemy, Lee's last attempt at offensive operations.

This position, which was on the eastern side of the city of Petersburg, was gallantly attacked and captured in the early morning; troops were at once called from all parts of the Union line and hurried to the point of action, but the fort was retaken before the Second Connecticut reached the scene, and the regiment was then moved to the southwest of the city before Fort Fisher, a general assault of the whole extensive line having been ordered by Grant to develop the weakness that Lee must have been obliged to make somewhere to carry out his plan against Fort Stedman. The attack succeeded in gaining and holding a large share of the Confederate picket line, a matter of great importance.

The Second Connecticut advanced to the charge late in the afternoon "as steadily as though on a battalion drill," the regimental history relates. It captured a line of rifle pits and kept on "under a combined artillery and musket fire. The air was blue with the little cast iron balls from spherical-case shot which shaved the ground and exploded among the stumps just in rear of the line at intervals of only a few seconds. Twenty of the Second Connecticut were wounded--seven of them mortally--in reaching, occupying, and abandoning this position, which, proving entirely untenable, was held only a few minutes. The line faced about and moved back under the same mixed fire of solid shot, spherical case, and musketry, and halted not far in front of the spot whence it had first moved forward. Other troops on the right now engaged the battery and captured the rest of the picket line, and after half an hour the brigade again moved forward to a position still further advanced than the previous one, where a permanent picket line was established."

The week following this eventful day, which began with the capture of one of the Union works, and ended with substantial gains along their front, saw intense activity on all sides. The abandonment of Petersburg by Lee was now plainly imminent, and the preventing of his army's escape was the paramount object. The whole vast field of operation about the besieged city became a seething theater of complicated movement, and the Second Connecticut, under frequent orders for immediate advance, was formed in line at all hours of the day or night, and excited by a thousand rumors and orders given and revoked, but it did not finally leave its quarters during this time.

On April 1st, Sheridan won his notable victory at Five Forks, and at midnight the regiment was ordered out for a final charge on the defences so long held against them, which was to be made early on the 2nd. All was made ready, the lines formed, and at daylight the signal gun set the army in motion.

"The advance was over precisely the same ground as on the 25th of March, and the firing came from the same battery and breastworks, although not quite so severe. Lieutenant-Colonel Skinner and seven enlisted men were wounded--none of them fatally. There was but little firing on our side, but with bayonets fixed the boys went in,--not in a very mathematical right line, but strongly and surely,--on, on, until the first line was carried. Then, invigorated and greatly encouraged by success, they pressed on--the opposing fire slackening every minute,--on, on, through the abatis and ditch, up the steep bank, over the parapet into the rebel camp that had but just been deserted. Then and there the long tried and ever faithful soldiers of the Republic saw daylight--and such a shout as tore the concave of that morning sky it were worth dying to hear." The same jubilant success was attending the whole army, though not without sharp resistance on the part of the enemy in places.

Throughout the day advances were made and the works so long besieged were occupied all over the vast field, and at night the men "lay down in muddy trenches, among the dying and the dead, under a most murderous fire of sharpshooters. There had been charges and counter charges,--but our troops held all they had gained. At length the hot day gave place to chilly night, and the extreme change brought much suffering. The men had flung away whatever was fling-away-able during the charge of the morning and the subsequent hot march--as men always will, under like circumstances--and now they found themselves blanketless, stockingless, overcoatless,--in cold and damp trenches, and compelled by the steady firing to lie still, or adopt a horizontal, crawling mode of locomotion, which did not admit of speed enough to quicken the circulation of the blood. Some took clothing from the dead and wrapped themselves in it; others, who were fortunate enough to procure spades, dug gopher holes, and burrowed. At daylight the Sixty-fifth New York clambered over the huge earthwork, took possession of Fort Hell, opened a picket fire and fired one of the guns in the fort, eliciting no reply. Just then a huge fire in the direction of the city, followed by several explosions, convinced our side that Lee's army had indeed left. The regiment was hastily got together,--ninety muskets being all that could be produced,--and sent out on picket. The picket line advanced and meeting with no resistance pushed on into the city. What regiment was first to enter the city is and probably ever will be a disputed question. The Second Connecticut claims to have been in first, but Colonel Hubbard had ordered the colors to remain behind when the regiment went out on the skirmish line, consequently the stars and stripes that first floated over captured Petersburg belonged to some other regiment. Colonel Hubbard was, however, made Provost-Marshal of the city, and for a brief while dispensed government and law in that capacity."

Petersburg, however, now that it was abandoned by the enemy, had lost the importance it had so long possessed, and all energies were given to preventing the escape of its late defenders. Before the end of the day (April 3rd) the regiment, with the rest of the Sixth Corps, had turned westward and joined the pursuit. The chase was stern and the marches rapid, but far less wearing to these victorious veterans, filled with the consciousness of success, than those that had initiated their campaigning less than a year before. On April 6th the regiment, after an all day march, came up with the enemy in position at Sailor's Creek, and went into the last engagement of its career. It was a charge under a hot fire, sharp and decisive, which quickly changed to a pursuit of the fleeing enemy, kept up until the bivouack at ten o'clock. The Second Connecticut captured the headquarters train of General Mahone, a battle flag, and many prisoners, and ended the tale of its losses with three men killed and six wounded.

The chase was taken up next morning (April 7th), and the regiment had reached a point close to Appomattox Court House, when on April 9th Lee met Grant and surrendered what remained of his army, at that historic place.

* * * * *

To imagine all that this meant to the men in arms is far easier than to attempt its description. They saw at last the end arriving of all the privation and suffering they had volunteered to undergo; they saw the triumph of the Union they had risen to defend to the uttermost extremity a proven fact. The whole continent vibrated with the deepest feeling at the news of it, but they, better than any others, knew in the fullest degree its immense significance.

Immediately after the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, the Sixth Corps was moved to Burkesville, some distance from Appomattox in the direction of Richmond, and there it remained for about ten days awaiting events. On April 22nd it was ordered southward to Danville, with a view to joining Sherman's army then confronting Johnston in North Carolina, a movement which again necessitated some fatiguing marches, the one hundred and five miles being covered in less than five days. News was received, however, that Johnston had followed the example of Lee and surrendered, and the corps thereupon faced about once more. On its leisurely progress to the north it was joined by crowds of the newly freed negroes, who attached themselves to every regiment in droves, and the lately hostile inhabitants came also at every stopping place, "with baskets and two-wheeled carts" for supplies to relieve their dire necessities.

Near Richmond the regiment remained several days, and the men were allowed passes to visit the late Confederate capital, so long the goal of their strenuous efforts. "The burnt district was still smoking with the remains of the great fire of April 2nd, and the city was full of officers and soldiers of the ex-Confederate army. The blue and the gray mingled on the streets and public squares, and were seen side by side in the Sabbath congregations. The war was over."

The consciousness of this last great fact was now becoming insistent in the minds of these citizen soldiers. The great purpose for which they had offered themselves was carried out, and their eagerness to have done with all the circumstances of military life was increasingly strong, and grew so intense as to render the final weeks of their term of service extremely trying.

The tremendous task of disbanding the armies of the Union was occupying the entire energies of the War Department, but to the men it seemed as if their longed for turn would never come. Back in the well-known fortifications around Washington they waited, taking part in the Grand Review on June 8th, in all the misery of full dress, and in a temper that would have carried them against the thousands of acclaiming spectators with savage joy, had it been a host of enemies in arms.

But their turn came at last, and on July 7th, one hundred and eighty-three men, all that were left of the original enlisted men of the "old Nineteenth," were mustered out; two days later they departed for New Haven and were welcomed there, like all the returning troops, with patriotic rejoicing.

The remainder of the regiment, some four hundred in number, was mustered out in its turn on August 18th, reached New Haven on the 20th, and "passed up Chapel Street amid welcoming crowds of people, the clangor of bells, and a shower of rockets and red lights that made the field-and-staff horses prance with the belief that battle had come again. After partaking of a bounteous entertainment prepared in the basement of the State House, the regiment proceeded to Grapevine Point, where, on the 5th of September, they received their pay and discharge, and the Second Connecticut Heavy Artillery vanished from sight and passed into History."

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In Litchfield County the return of the various contingents to their homes was made the occasion of great rejoicing. Chief among these celebrations was a grand reception at the county seat on August 1st, when the first detachment to be discharged had arrived; they were feted with dinner and speeches, illuminations and a triumphal arch. There were also other organized demonstrations in other towns, and everywhere the strongest manifestations of pride in these warrior sons of the county, and joy at their return.

But all who went had not returned. The terrible significance of the cold and formal columns and tables of the regiment's casualties was felt in every town, and to their tale was added in succeeding years a long list of the many who had indeed come back, but broken with wounds and disease, and just as truly devoted to death through their service as those who fell upon the field of battle.

What the Second Connecticut suffered is shown, so far as official statistics go, in the tables published by the Adjutant-General of the state, as follows:

Killed 147
Missing in action, probably killed 11
Fatally wounded 95
Wounded 427
Captured 72
Died in prison 21
Died of disease or accident 154
Discharged for disability 285
Unaccounted for at muster out 35

The officers of the regiment as mustered out were: Colonel, James Hubbard, Salisbury; lieutenant-colonel, Jeffrey Skinner, Winchester; majors, Edward W. Jones, New Hartford; Augustus H. Fenn, Plymouth; Chester D. Cleveland, Barkhamsted; adjutant, Theodore F. Vaill, Litchfield; quartermaster, Edward C. Huxley, Goshen; surgeon, Henry Plumb, New Milford; assistant surgeons, Robert G. Hazzard, New Haven; Judson B. Andrews, New Haven; chaplain, Winthrop H. Phelps, Barkhamsted.

The preceding pages have outlined the career of the Second Connecticut Heavy Artillery, and have narrated some of the more memorable events of its history. Enough has been told of what it did to furnish grounds for deducing what it was; but to deal with the regiment on the personal side is hardly possible within the limits of such a sketch as this, though it is a matter that cannot be entirely passed by. It need not be said that there is abundant human interest attaching as a matter of course to such men as were in the aggregate the subjects of so fine a record.

Any body of men--a college class, a legislature, a regiment--is in character what its component members make it; in this case there was the material, which, furnished with worthy leadership--and it unquestionably had that--made up the organization whose not uneventful existence has been described. That they were better men, or worse, braver men, or more patriotic, than their descendants and successors would prove under similar conditions, or than the hundreds of thousands of their contemporaries who devoted themselves to the same service, is not to be believed; yet to have passed through such experiences as have been recounted, which became for them for a time the commonplaces of every-day life, is enough to place them apart from ordinary men in the eyes of our peace knowing generation. In fact, to have passed the tests of so fierce a course of education gives them a title to a place thus apart. The university man of to-day, as the burden of the baccalaureate sermons so frequently testifies, is consigned to a special place of responsibility in life because of his training; these men surely earned one of special honor by reason of theirs, which was, too, not like the other, preparation alone, but also fulfilment. The realization of how typical it all was of that generation and that time, brings the clearest understanding of the real scope of the Civil War.

* * * * *

To the members of the Litchfield County University Club it is perhaps a point of interest to take brief notice of those names on the regimental rolls which would probably have been found upon its list of members had the organization been in existence in that earlier time. A number of the officers and men were college graduates when they enlisted, and others gained degrees after the war ended; the list which follows is, however, necessarily incomplete; in fact, an absolutely correct list is no doubt hopelessly impossible.

Major James Q. Rice, who was killed at Winchester, was a member of the class of 1850 at Wesleyan, and received from that institution the degree of Master of Arts in 1855. At the time of the regiment's formation he was conducting an academy in Goshen, and was enlisted as captain of a company which he had been active in recruiting.

Lieutenant-Colonel Nathaniel Smith of Woodbury entered the Yale Law School in the class of 1853, but did not graduate. Ill health forced him to relinquish his commission early in 1864, and until his death in 1877 he was a leading citizen of the county.

Judge Augustus H. Fenn, Major and Brevet-Colonel, came back from the war, having lost an arm at Cedar Creek, to take a course in the Law School at Harvard, and Yale made him a Master of Arts in 1889. His prominence for many years in public life and as judge in the highest courts in the state is well known. At the time of his death in 1897, he was a lecturer in the Yale Law School, and member of the Supreme Court of Errors.

Rev. James Deane, Captain and Brevet-Major, was a graduate of Williams in the class of 1857. He was pastor of the Congregational church at East Canaan when the regiment was organized, and was one of its recruiting officers.

Adjutant Theodore F. Vaill, the historian of the regiment, was a student before the war at Union College, but did not graduate.

Captain George S. Williams, of New Milford, was a member of the class of 1852 at Yale for a time, and received a degree from Trinity in 1855.

Surgeon Henry Plumb, and Assistant-Surgeons Robert G. Hazzard and John W. Lawton were all graduates of the Yale Medical School, in the classes of 1861, 1862, and 1859. Assistant-Surgeon Judson B. Andrews graduated at Yale in 1855. He was captain in a New York regiment in the early part of the war, and became afterward superintendent of the Buffalo State Hospital, and a recognized authority on insanity before his death in 1894.

Chaplain Jonathan A. Wainwright graduated at the University of Vermont in 1846, and after the war was for some years rector of St. John's Church in Salisbury. He was later connected with a church college in Missouri, where he died in 1898.

Captain William H. Lewis, Jr., studied after the war at the Berkeley Divinity School, and has been for many years rector of St. John's Church in Bridgeport.

Lieutenant and Brevet-Captain Lewis W. Munger, graduating at Brown in 1869 and later from the Crozier Theological Seminary, entered the ministry of the Baptist church.

Corporal Francis J. Young entered the Yale Medical School before the war, and returned after its close to take his degree in 1866.

Hospital Steward James J. Averill also graduated at the Yale Medical School after the war.

Sergeant Theodore C. Glazier was a graduate of Trinity in the class of 1860, and was a tutor there when he enlisted. He was later made colonel of a colored regiment, and served with credit in that capacity.

Corporal Edward C. Hopson, a graduate of Trinity in 1864, was killed at Cedar Creek.

Sergeant Garwood R. Merwin, who had been a member of the class of 1864 at Yale, died at Alexandria in 1863.

Sergeant Romulus C. Loveridge, who had been entered in the class of 1865 at Yale, received a commission in a colored regiment.

Colonel Mackenzie graduated at West Point in 1862, but he was never a resident of the county, or of Connecticut, and his only connection with either was through his commission from Governor Buckingham.

There are not a few other names upon the rolls of the regiment which upon more thorough investigation than has been possible in the present case would certainly be added to the list. A complete history of the organization would also give a large place to the association of its veterans formed shortly after the war, whose frequent gatherings have more than a superficial likeness to the reunions of college classes. Memorable among these meetings was the one held on October 21, 1896, the occasion being the dedication of the regiment's monument in the National Cemetery at Arlington, with a pilgrimage also to the scenes of its battles and marches in the Shenandoah Valley near by.

As a whole, the regiment was a body thoroughly representative not only of the army of which it was a fraction, an army as has been often said unlike any other the world has known, but also of the population from which it was drawn. It was made up of men of almost all conditions of life and of widely different ages, though naturally with young men in a large majority; of mechanics from the Housatonic and Naugatuck valleys, and farmers' boys from the hills; of men of education and men of none. Though the large addition to its numbers which the increase in size necessitated made it perhaps somewhat less homogeneous than at first, it did not greatly alter its essential characteristics.