Chapter VII: Gettysburg (1)

The result of the battle of Chancellorsville determined General Lee to carry out his cherished plan of invading the North. Hooker’s position in front of Fredericksburg being unfavorable for attack, the rebel chief early in June began a series of movements with the view of drawing him away from the river. Leaving Hill’s corps in the works at Fredericksburg, to keep up appearances, he concentrated Ewell’s, Longstreet’s, and Hood’s forces at Culpepper Court-House, near the upper waters of the Rappahannock, and about the middle of June pushed forward rapidly into the Shenandoah Valley, and either captured or defeated the feeble Union force opposing his march. Meanwhile, Hooker’s watchful eye was upon him, and the Sixth Corps crossed the river just below Fredericksburg to determine the strength and intentions of the rebels. A few days later, several army corps broke camp, and started off in the direction of Warrenton, for the purpose of watching the movements of the enemy, and covering the approaches to Washington; while on the ninth the cavalry inflicted a severe blow upon Jeb. Stuart’s troopers, who were gathering in strong force at Kelly’s Ford, twenty-five miles above Falmouth, intending to sweep with destruction the fertile fields of Pennsylvania.

The Second Corps was the last to leave the line of the Rappahannock. On the eighth of June, the Twenty-seventh Connecticut received orders to be ready to march at any time, with three days’ rations, and continued in this waiting posture until the fourteenth instant, when the final orders came, and at three P.M. the regiment, with the rest of the brigade acting as rear-guard to the corps, moved up the river to Banks’s Ford, relieved our pickets, reconnoitered the enemy, and retired toward Stafford Court-House. This little hamlet was left behind in flames. For several days the corps followed the roads near the Potomac, passing through Dumfries, Occoquan, and Fairfax Station, halting here two days, and arriving at Centreville on the nineteenth. The route now turned still farther to the left, crossing the old Bull Run battle-field, which had witnessed the decision of two campaigns. Time had not effaced the evidences of those disastrous days. Silently the troops moved over the field, and the thoughts of many a one among the older regiments, and of some in our own, hurried back to those scenes with impressive distinctness, as the bleached bones of the fallen, or the rubbish of battle, lay scattered along the roadside. After a severe march of twenty miles in the rain, the regiment arrived, at ten in the evening of June twentieth, at Thoroughfare Gap, a wild gorge in the Blue Ridge. The intensely exhausting march from Falmouth made the four days of comparative rest at the Gap exceedingly welcome. Here the troops were occupied in picketing the pass, in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the mountains. Meanwhile, to the north, Stuart and Pleasanton were once more on the charge at Aldie, Upperville, and Middleburg, and their muffled cannonade echoed among these hills and pleasant valleys, surely not unused to the sound, repeating itself again and again, as if from as many different directions.

June twenty-fifth, the regiment fell in at an early hour, ready to fight or march, as circumstances might require, for the rebels were approaching with malicious intent to capture the corps’ beef cattle and supply train, and sharp picket firing indicated the possible necessity of adopting the former alternative. But after remaining in line of battle, with no serious demonstration on the part of the enemy, the corps advanced through Haymarket, toward the Potomac. The rebel cavalry followed vigorously, and attempted to come in on our flanks, but skirmishers were thrown out, and the troops marched in hollow squares, prepared to repel any attack. At Haymarket, the batteries turned on the enemy, and drove them back. The column pushed forward to Gum Springs, and without pitching tents rested that night on their arms, drawn up in a hollow square, ready at a moment’s warning to meet any assault of rebel cavalry. At midnight of June twenty-sixth, the regiment crossed the Potomac at Edward’s Ferry. The next three days passed in continuous marching up the valley of the Monocacy river, through many quiet Maryland villages, among them Poolesville, Frederick City, Liberty, Johnsville, and Uniontown. Each day’s march was very protracted--that from Frederick City to Uniontown embracing a distance of thirty-six miles, and the manner in which it was performed elicited high compliments from Colonel Brooke, commanding the brigade.

Thus far the army had been manœuvred so as to cover Washington and Baltimore, and now, as the rebel plans became more apparent, General Meade, who had recently superseded General Hooker, directed a concentration of his forces in the vicinity of Gettysburg. The First Corps held the advance, followed by the Eleventh, and on Wednesday morning, July first, drove the enemy’s skirmishers through the town. General Reynolds, in command of the corps, without hesitation moved forward to the attack, and met death while bravely posting his troops on the heights beyond. The rebels fell back slowly, in order to give time for Ewell’s men to come to their aid, and this being accomplished, they were more than a match for the combined First and Eleventh, with whose now united columns rested the decision of the day. At three in the afternoon, the enemy, thus reënforced, took the offensive, and compelled General Howard, now in command, to withdraw his troops to the south of the town, and the close of the day left him securely intrenched on Cemetery Hill.

While these scenes were taking place around Gettysburg, the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, with its corps, leisurely moved up to Taneytown, just below the Pennsylvania State line. Here the troops rested a few hours, unconscious that the first of a trio of glorious battle days was already in progress. But soon the ominous notes of Howard’s and Ewell’s cannon strike on the ear, and add new emphasis to the call from the front for reënforcements. Preceded by General Hancock, the corps advanced rapidly to within three miles of Gettysburg, and were occupied until midnight in throwing up intrenchments. At early dawn, July second, the brigades moved forward to take the places assigned them in the line of battle. Already the fitful fire of opposing pickets and skirmishers can be heard in the distance, with the occasional boom of heavy ordnance. The shock of battle, which is to determine the fate of the rebel invasion, will at the farthest be postponed but a few hours. Just before coming into position, and while the troops were resting under arms, the commander of our brigade assembled the officers, and briefly reminded them of the desperate character of the emergency, and urged the importance and necessity of devoting every energy to insure the successful issue of the conflict.

In order to understand the various positions of the Twenty-seventh during the action, let us briefly sketch the line of battle, as adopted by General Hancock, and along which the several corps were arranged, as they arrived on the field. Three important roads, the Emmettsburg, Taneytown, and Baltimore turnpike, converge in Gettysburg from the south. At their junction, just below the town, is the natural key of the position, the now historic Cemetery Hill. This elevation forms the northern end of a ridge prolonged about four miles, almost exactly due south, near to and parallel with the Taneytown road, gradually diminishing in altitude until it almost loses itself in the surrounding level, then rises again into the forest-crowned Little Round Top, or Weed’s Hill, and terminates in the yet higher ascent of Rocky Round Top itself. Beginning on the left at Round Top, the Union line extends northward in nearly a straight course along Cemetery Ridge, and at Cemetery Hill bends back to the east in the general form of a half circle, with a radius of three fourths of a mile--Culp’s Hill, and several minor eminences, lying in the circumference; and the extreme right, crossing Rock Creek, which flows at the base of these heights, rests upon the woody summit of Wolf’s Hill. The rebel forces occupied a series of heights corresponding to these, with an intervening belt of comparatively level and open country from one to two miles in width.

The forenoon of Thursday, July second, passed with no demonstration on either side. The hostile forces are rapidly marshalling on the opposite ridges. In the Union line the Twelfth Corps holds the eminences near Rock Creek, on the right; next is the First, on Culp’s Hill; then the Eleventh, at the centre, on Cemetery Hill, while along Cemetery Ridge are successively drawn up the Second, Third, and Fifth, with the Sixth in reserve near the Taneytown road. The Twenty-seventh Connecticut was stationed about a mile and a half south of Cemetery Hill, in the line occupied by our Second Corps on the left centre. Here the regiment remained nearly all day in quiet preparation for the conflict, which threatened at any moment to mar that peaceful landscape of thrifty farm-houses and waving grain.

Early in the afternoon, the Third Corps, on the left of the Second, advanced down the western slope of Cemetery Ridge, through woods and an extensive wheat-field, almost to the Emmettsburg road, which winds through the narrow valley, separating the hostile forces. Just beyond, Longstreet is forming his brigades, and at four o’clock, preceded by a brief cannonade, their gray ranks sweep out from woods and ravines, and once more is heard that strange, wild yell, as they throw themselves forward upon the thin line of the Third Corps. But before the storm of grape and canister from Cemetery Ridge they quickly fall back to organize anew their broken columns. Meanwhile reënforcements from the Fifth and Second Corps moved rapidly to the scene of action. Once more in still heavier masses the enemy advanced to the charge. The Twenty-seventh, with the rest of the First Division, was hurried forward through fields and by-roads, to support the faltering line. As the regiment enters the wheat-field, already referred to, the broken remains of the Third Corps are slowly retiring to the rear. A few steps more bring the men under the full sweep of the enemy’s fire. Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin falls while leading the command with his accustomed bravery. Under Major Coburn, the line still presses forward at double-quick, through the wheat-field and woods beyond, driving the rebels a quarter of a mile, across a ravine, which on the further side rises into a precipitous ledge. The men with much difficulty clambered up the rocky steep, but as they appeared upon the crest of the hill, the enemy, drawn up in readiness just beyond, within pistol-range, opened upon them a withering fire. The contest at this point continued for some time. Planting the colors upon the top, the men loaded their pieces under shelter of the brow of the hill, then, rising up, delivered their fire. Meanwhile the troops to our right gave way, and, taking advantage of the exposed position of the right flank of our brigade, the enemy advanced a body of troops in that direction, and General Brooke at length ordered our shattered line to fall back, which was accomplished under a heavy cross-fire.

Thus with varying success the battle raged from four P.M. until dark. Now the feeble line of the Third Corps trembles before the fierce onset of the foe, and retires, contesting the ground inch by inch; but the irresistible onslaught of reënforcements soon turns the tide. Again the rebels push back the Union troops almost to the original lines on Cemetery Ridge, and again are themselves repulsed before the concentrated fire of our artillery, aiding the charge of a brigade of infantry.

The conflict on the left wing terminated at dark, leaving the enemy in possession of the wheat-field. No attack had yet been made upon other parts of the line, but, as the day closed, a division, deploying from the edge of the town, made a brief and desperate, but fruitless, assault upon the batteries posted on Cemetery Hill. And still further to the right, the enemy, observing that the larger part of the forces on Culp’s Hill had been drawn off to meet pressing emergencies elsewhere, crossed Rock Creek, and, charging up the woody slope, secured a lodgement for the night in the unoccupied portion of the works. Such was the general result of the day’s fighting.

The Twenty-seventh went into action with seventy-five men, all that could be mustered for duty after an active service of not quite nine months. At the camps of paroled prisoners, the Richmond voyagers of our regiment, though not permitted to rejoin the command, yet in thought followed their comrades through all the vicissitudes of march and battle which attended them. At five P.M. that little band of seventy-five men formed for the charge at the edge of the wheat-field. At dark thirty-eight were numbered among the casualties: eleven killed--among them Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin, and Captain Jedediah Chapman--twenty-three wounded, and four missing. One of the latter, when Lee’s army retreated, was marched by his captors from Gettysburg to Staunton, Virginia, one hundred and eighty miles, and thence transported by railroad to Richmond. After a six weeks’ experience on Belle Island, he was paroled, and returned home so emaciated and worn down by hardship as to be almost beyond recognition even by members of his own company.

At the close of the action in front of the left wing, the Twenty-seventh was assigned a new position in the line of battle, about midway on the ridge between Cemetery Hill and Round Top. The regiment remained in this vicinity until the Second Corps started in pursuit of Lee’s army, three days later. Early the next morning, July third, the men were roused from sleep by a furious cannonade from batteries posted on Power’s Hill, about half a mile to the rear. These dogs of war were paying their morning compliments to the rebels, who still occupied the works on the extreme right, which they had captured the previous evening. For an hour this thunder-toned reveille awoke the resting armies to the still fiercer drama of the last battle day. The infantry followed up this fiery prelude with a vigorous attack upon the rebel vantage-ground, the importance of which seemed fully appreciated by both sides. The struggle continued with unabated resolution until nine o’clock, when the Union forces succeeded in dispossessing the enemy of this to them valuable _point d’appui_ for future operations.

With the exception of a severe artillery fire, to which General Meade’s headquarters were subjected, the enemy attempted nothing further during the remainder of the forenoon. The Twenty-seventh was busily engaged in throwing up intrenchments, gathering for this purpose rails and stones from neighboring fences, and, in the absence of picks and shovels, using their bayonets and tin plates to heap up the earth. In his morning rounds, General Hancock visited the brigade, and as he stood near by, conversing with Major Coburn, our acting Brigadier, Colonel Brooke, called the General’s attention to the little remnant of the Twenty-seventh, alluding, in strong terms of commendation, to the conduct of the regiment in the action of the preceding afternoon. Turning to the men, General Hancock said: “Stand well to your duty now, and in a few days you will carry with you to your homes all the honors of this, the greatest battle ever fought upon the continent.”

From eleven o’clock until one, only stifled mutterings of the impatient storm disturbed the quiet which reigned along the lines. The rebels were silently maturing their plans for the last grand charge, upon which they staked the fate of the invasion. Those were hours of indescribable suspense to the defenders of the Union, whether or no the sun would set upon a foe elated with victory and pressing onward to new conquests, or sullenly retiring in defeat. At one o’clock the combat began. From every commanding eminence in their concave line, the rebel artillery, numbering more than a hundred guns, opened a terrific cannonade, probably unsurpassed in violence during the whole war. For more than an hour this wild storm of shot and shell rolls over the Union line, from Round Top to Rock Creek. The infantry are partially sheltered behind intrenchments, while the cannoneers stand at their posts, replying occasionally to the bombardment, but reserving their fire for more decisive work, when the rebel forces advance to the assault. At length the cannonade slackens, to give way to the next act in the drama, the crisis of the tragedy. In full view two heavy lines of troops, the flower of the rebel army, with skirmishers in front, deploy from the woods and ridges beyond the Emmettsburg road. With the steadiness of hardened veterans they move forward to the attack. From Cemetery Ridge thousands of Union troops are watching their progress, for the assault is directed upon the left centre. On arriving at the road, the enemy opened a heavy musketry fire, and dashed rapidly forward across the level plain. The very moment they emerged from behind Seminary Heights, the Union artillery met them with shot and shell and solid shot, but now, as they approach within easy range, their ranks are mercilessly raked with a tempest of canister. Cemetery Hill is wreathed with flame from the guns of thickly-massed infantry, and the fringe of fire courses along the crest of the ridge for two miles, as far as the rebel attack extends. Though temporarily checked, one division still marches on with desperate energy up to the very works. Only a weak line bars their progress, but reinforcements quickly arrive at the critical point, around which the contending hosts now struggle, in one of the most hotly-contested encounters of the battle. For a time the rebels bravely maintain their position, but clouds of missiles from Cemetery Hill tear into their ranks, while infantry crowd them vigorously in front and flank. At length, leaving the ground thickly strewn with killed and wounded, and multitudes as prisoners in the hands of the conquerors, the broken remnants roll back in wild confusion, and disappear behind the hills from which they had sallied forth.

This last charge of the rebels took place just to the right of the position held by the Twenty-seventh, which we have already referred to as being half-way between Round Top and Cemetery Hill. From the relation of the ground to the surrounding high land, the location of our brigade was regarded as one of the weakest in the line, and General Hancock expressed the opinion that here the enemy would make his attack. Fortunately it proved otherwise, although for a time such a movement seemed imminent. Near the close of the action, a division, massed in column, advanced directly upon our front, but the reserve artillery quickly drove them back before they came within musketry range. The favorable termination of what was felt to be the last assault the rebels would make, produced a profound feeling of satisfaction. But one of the saddest of duties remained to be performed--to bury the dead and gather the wounded into the hospitals. This work occupied the men during July fourth. On that day, Lee’s army withdrew from this scene of inglorious defeat, and retired in a southwesterly direction.

In the afternoon of July fifth, the war-worn Twenty-seventh, with the Second Corps, left those battle-scarred heights, the theatre of a costly but substantial triumph, which marks the turning-point in the fortunes of the rebellion. For the next few days the march was directed toward the Potomac, following at first the Taneytown road. But slow progress was made, in consequence of frequent rains and the thoroughly exhausted condition of the troops. The state of popular feeling along the route was in striking contrast with the dejected aspect of every countenance when the army was on its way to Gettysburg. Now, Frederick City put on its most smiling face. Flags were flung to the breeze, and the people gave an enthusiastic welcome to the regiments as they passed through in pursuit of Lee’s army. The route now crossed the Blue Ridge, by way of Crampton’s Gap. Here the severe rains had gathered a considerable torrent, several feet deep, which formed the pathway of the troops for nearly two miles. The Twenty-seventh was once more in the vicinity of the enemy, who had retreated down the western slope of the mountains, and were now in position at Williamsport, on the Potomac, preparing to cross into Virginia. The sound of cannon in that direction informed us that they were but a short distance to the front; and while on the field of Antietam, the brigade formed in line of battle, as a precautionary measure. The next day the rebel cavalry attacked the skirmish line, but quickly fell back before a severe shelling. In anticipation of further fighting, the men spent two nights and one day in building an elaborate line of intrenchments; but it proved to be labor lost, as the rebels retired, on the night of the fourteenth, to the south bank of the river. Immediately on ascertaining this fact, the Twenty-seventh, with the brigade, was ordered down to Falling Waters, a short distance below Williamsport, and arrived there just in time to witness the capture of the enemy’s rear-guard, more than a thousand strong.

The invasion was now at an end; and as the last rebel left the soil of Maryland, the campaign of the Twenty-seventh drew near to its close. Leaving Falling Waters, the regiment accompanied the Second Corps down the Potomac to Harper’s Ferry, and went into camp at Pleasant Valley, about two miles distant. On the morning of July eighteenth the Twenty-seventh ceased its connection with the Army of the Potomac. In announcing this event, Colonel Brooke, our brigade commander, issued the following general order:

“HEADQUARTERS FOURTH BRIGADE, FIRST DIVISION, }
SECOND CORPS, CAMP IN PLEASANT VALLEY, }
MARYLAND, July 17, 1863. }

“GENERAL ORDER--NO. 9.

“The term of service of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut Volunteers
having nearly expired, it has been relieved from further duty,
and ordered to report to its place of enrolment.

“The Colonel commanding the brigade desires, in parting with the
officers and men of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, to convey to
them his sincere feelings of regret at losing their services,
while at the same time he thanks them for the obedience and
faithfulness which have been a marked feature of the regiment.

“Knowing it intimately for so many months of active and arduous
service--having been an eye-witness of its many deeds of
gallantry, and of the noble devotion displayed by it on many a
memorable day, during the time in which he has had the honor to
command its services--he feels it a duty he owes, not only to the
living heroes, but to the memory of those who have fallen in the
field in battling in our righteous cause, to bear testimony to
the valor and gallantry it has always displayed.

“Side by side with the veterans of the Army of the Potomac it has
fought, and by the gallantry of its conduct won for itself an
enviable name and reputation, and which may well, in after years,
cause all who belong to it to feel a pardonable pride in having
it to say that they served with the Twenty-seventh Connecticut.

“By order. COLONEL BROOKE.
“CHARLES P. HATCH, Lieutenant,
“Acting Assistant Adjutant-General.”

With glad hearts the men formed in line at an early hour and took the cars for Baltimore, after a parting salute to the brigade, as it marched by on its way into Virginia. On the twentieth, the detachments of paroled men from Annapolis and Camp Convalescent arrived at Baltimore, and the whole regiment, now mustering about half the original number, started by railroad for New-Haven. Once more we were entertained at the “Volunteer Refreshment Saloon,” in Philadelphia, and, after a night’s bivouack at the Battery, in New-York, arrived at the “place of enrolment” on the twenty-second of July, 1863, exactly nine months from the date of departure for the field. We shall not attempt to describe the hearty enthusiasm and deep feeling of the reception which followed. That “glorious welcome home” will long be remembered by the soldiers of the Twenty-seventh. Escorted by the military companies of the city and the municipal authorities, the regiment marched from the cars to the north portico of the State House, while “Welcome!” pealed from the ringing bells, thundered in the roar of cannon, waved from every flag-staff, and shone on every countenance of the vast multitude, gathered from all parts of the county, and thronging the streets and public square. At the State House, after the regiment had been drawn up “in column by division,” the Mayor presented the formal welcome of the city, and was succeeded by Rev. Dr. Bacon in a brief address, closing with a prayer of thanksgiving. The following poem, written by Mrs. William Doty, of New-Haven, and accompanying a gift of laurel wreaths to the field-officers, was then read:

A TRIBUTE OF WELCOME

TO THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CONNECTICUT VOLUNTEERS.

We’ll fling to the breeze our banner bright,
America’s emblem of freedom and right,
And rallying round the standard true,
Shout a joyous welcome, brave patriots, to you.

Ye went forth from us, a loyal band,
Firm on the side of right to stand;
Ye return with hearts still brave and true;
Then our warmest greeting we give to you.

Ye return, but our tears will fall as ye come,
For the mournful notes of the muffled drum
Are borne on the breeze over mountain and wave,
As it beats the dirge by your comrades’ grave.

With the order, “Forward!” ye marched proudly on,
And your colors bright to the front were borne;
When the smoke of the battle had cleared away,
Side by side with the “veterans” your brave boys lay.

Through the summer’s heat and winter’s cold
At your post ye stood, fearless and bold;
And when on the field, ’mid the conflict dire,
Ye _did not_ “quail at the enemy’s fire.”

Oh! the road to Richmond hath altars bright,
Where, a “captive band,” ye camped at night,
And “Libby’s” grim walls a record bears,
Of the patriot’s song and the hero’s prayers.

Now the toil is over, the march is done;
And the wreath of laurel, ye’ve bravely won,
We offer to you, and our welcome it breathes,
For our prayers were twined with its glossy leaves.

But ye’re not _all_ here, and we’ll look in vain
For the smiles that will greet us never again;
And the quivering lip and tearful eye
Mutely ask you where our treasures lie.

Some sleep where Virginia’s waters flow,
Murmuring their requiem soft and low;
Others with fairest flowers were drest,
And close by the old homes laid to rest.

When the angel of peace, with brooding wing,
Shall fly o’er our land and its anthem sing,
With trembling fingers the strings she’ll sweep,
As she nears the spot where our loved ones sleep.

Then a costly crown will our country wear,
And bright the gems that shall sparkle there.
She shall sit a queen, peerless and free,
And the graves of her heroes her glory be!

Still firmly stand, in God your trust,
Till the rebel horde shall bite the dust,
And the North and South encircled be
With the bands of truth and liberty.

Fight on, till our starry flag of blue,
Each glistening fold to its purpose true,
Shall wave from wild Atlantic’s roar
To the golden strands of Pacific’s shore.

At the conclusion of these exercises a bountiful collation was served up, after which the men separated, to await the completion of the papers necessary to the final muster out of service, which took place July twenty-seventh, 1863.

Thus terminated the eventful campaign of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut Volunteers. During this brief term of nine months, the regiment performed marches in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, amounting to no less than five hundred miles, and participated in three of the great battles of the war--Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg--losing in killed and wounded in the first, about one third, and in the last, one half, of those present in action. Very many of our number, on their return, reënlisted in other organizations, and illustrated on new fields the same valor which bore them and their comrades up the fiery slope of Fredericksburg, nerved all hearts calmly to meet disaster in the wilderness of Chancellorsville, and crowned with victory the heights of Gettysburg.

_IN MEMORIAM._

The necrology of the Twenty-seventh, during the whole term of service, includes seventy-five officers and men, and embraces much that was noblest in the regiment. Of this number thirty-three fell amid the strife and turmoil of battle; eighteen, after a more or less lingering period of patient agony, finally succumbed to their wounds; and twenty-four others slowly yielded to the inroads of disease, and died among the more quiet scenes of the hospital. Were it possible, we would gladly dwell upon each individual name, and gather up those qualities by which each is remembered among his comrades. But after all that might be said, the simple record of the central fact in their history, that these men fell in defence of the most righteous cause ever submitted to the decision of the sword, is far more impressive than any commemorative words. And yet there are some whose marked character and prominent connection with the regiment as a whole, or with single companies, seem to demand more than a passing notice. Chief among these, the mind and heart of each member of the regiment will at once recur to the name of

LIEUT.-COL. HENRY C. MERWIN,

who fell in the battle of Gettysburg, July second, 1863. If this noble spirit must leave its mortal tenement amid the wild tumult of war, how appropriate that it should be when the black cloud of disaster, which had so long hovered over the cause of our country, was just rolling away, and already revealed its silver lining of victory!

Colonel Merwin was a native of Brookfield, Connecticut, where he was born September seventeenth, 1839. He spent the greater part of his life in New-Haven, and at the beginning of the war was in business with his father and brother. He early manifested a fondness for military life, to which the subsequent events of his history proved him well adapted. When the first gun of the war sounded from the rebel batteries at Charleston, it awoke in his breast a determined and prompt response. At that time he was a member of the New-Haven Grays, and immediately volunteered with that corps for three months’ service in the Second Regiment, holding the position of sergeant. It will be remembered that that was one of the very few regiments which returned with credit from the field of Bull Run. After this brief campaign he remained at home for a season, constrained by considerations of filial duty, by which a noble nature like his is ever governed until yet higher obligations demand attention. The armies of the Union were being rapidly filled up, and at length the Government stopped recruiting, while the nation beheld with confidence the vast and apparently irresistible preparations, which betokened an easy victory. Under these circumstances it was not strange that so many, like Colonel Merwin, held back by peculiar home duties, refrained from throwing themselves into the struggle. But these anticipations resulted in disappointment, and all this array of resources proved a disastrous failure. The call of the country was now heard in louder and more imperative tones than ever before, and appealed to a far wider circle in the community. Henry C. Merwin responded with a calm, but earnest alacrity, as is ever true of those whose guide is duty. His deserved and unsought popularity soon gathered to his banner a full quota of men, which was designated as Company A of the Twenty-seventh. Subsequently, at the organization of the regiment, he was chosen Lieutenant-Colonel by the votes of his fellow-officers. From this point his history is identified with that of the regiment. From the moment of departure for the field to the time of his death in that terrible combat of July second, at Gettysburg, he had never been relieved from duty, except as the casualties of war separated him from his command. He shared the fortunes of the regiment during the terrible and fruitless battle of Fredericksburg, and met with undaunted courage the sudden shock of disaster in the thickets of Chancellorsville. He visited Richmond as a prisoner of war, and on being exchanged at once returned to the regiment, to the command of which he was now called. Along the weary march to Gettysburg he inspired the men with his own indomitable spirit, and on that fated wheat-field, where the missiles of the enemy, as it were, mowed down the waving grain, he fell, mortally wounded, breathing out those words of noble self-forgetfulness, “My poor regiment is suffering fearfully.”

Without disparagement to any, it may truly be said that no officer in the regiment attracted to himself such universal and unvarying respect, confidence, and affection among the men of his command. Nor was this strange in view of the remarkable and harmonious combination of noble qualities in his character. No pride of position ever marred the beautiful consistency of his life, and yet there was a natural dignity which forbade undue familiarity. He felt deeply the responsibility of his relation to the regiment, and this o’ermastering principle swallowed up every consideration of self-interest. Duty was evidently the supreme motive of his life, and intent upon the performance of his own, he expected and required equal faithfulness on the part of others. He was quick of discernment, and rapid in execution, but no harshness ever dimmed the transparent kindness of his demeanor. His genial countenance and words of sympathy and encouragement often cheered the loneliness of the hospital. He thoroughly appreciated the hardships and trials peculiar to the private soldier, and at all times endeavored to sustain and inspirit his weary energies. All these more amiable qualities were supplemented by a manly independence and decision, which made him always jealous for the rights of his men. On that trying march to Gettysburg, no arrogance and severity of superior officers ever deterred him from a gentlemanly, but bold and firm, maintenance of the rights and interests of the regiment. He at once secured the respect, and soon the high regard of Colonel Brooke, commanding the brigade, who felt most keenly the loss of Colonel Merwin, and, on hearing that he was wounded, gave orders that every thing possible should be done for his welfare.

But none can do justice to such a character. In his death the Twenty-seventh laid its costliest sacrifice upon the altar of our country.

“He had kept
The brightness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.”

CAPTAIN OF COMPANY C.]

This gallant officer fell severely wounded in the engagement at Fredericksburg, December thirteenth, 1862, and died at his home in New-Haven, March thirteenth, 1863. He was born October twenty-eighth, 1841, in Wellington, Lorraine county, Ohio. His parents were natives of Connecticut, which State became his home when he was about twelve years of age. For several years he was a pupil in the Collegiate and Commercial Institute of New-Haven, and subsequently a teacher, and also the military instructor in that school. The outbreak of the rebellion in 1861 found him performing the duties of this position. Though feeling that his relations and duties to others did not permit him at that time to enter the active military service of the country, yet he took an earnest and enthusiastic part in the stirring scenes of that period. Troops were to be raised and prepared for the field with the utmost dispatch. How vividly memory recalls the experiences of those days, then so strange in our national history, when men were gathering from all quarters for the nation’s defence, and our streets resounded with the drum and fife, and the public square was alive with squads and companies moving to and fro in the mazes of military evolutions! Captain Taylor’s zeal and military knowledge found an ample sphere for exercise at this important crisis, and truly most efficient service did he render. It should be particularly mentioned, that he drilled the company of Captain, now Brevet Major-General, Joseph R. Hawley, then of the First Connecticut Regiment of three months’ volunteers. Brevet Brigadier-General Edward W. Whittaker, the adventurous cavalry leader, was also at that time a member of this company. So successfully did Captain Taylor fulfil these duties that Captain Hawley offered him the most flattering inducements if he would consent to accompany the regiment; but the time had not arrived when he was to give even life itself for his country. It came when the battle summer of 1862 convinced the nation that this was no ordinary struggle, and brought each man face to face with the question of his own individual duty. At this juncture the call was issued for volunteers for nine months’ service; and Captain Taylor, with his accustomed ardor, immediately entered upon the work of recruiting the “Monitors” for the Twenty-seventh Regiment, and soon assembled about him a very superior body of men, to whom his military knowledge and experience were of very great advantage. His was the color company, and at its head he moved on that day of fearful carnage, the memorable thirteenth of December, 1862, when he received the wound which resulted in death, after three months of patient suffering.

Did space allow, we might appropriately introduce at this point the singularly unanimous testimony of those who knew him best, to the self-reliance which he manifested from his earliest years; to the thorough, unostentatious sincerity, purity, and conscientiousness of his life; to the high sense of duty which impelled him to the field, and animated him in every act; and, more than all this, to the Christian principles which formed the basis of his symmetrical character.

“The light of his young life went down,
As sinks behind the hill
The glory of a setting star--
Clear, suddenly, and still.
The blessing of his quiet life
Was in his every look.
We read his face as one that reads
A true and holy book.”

CAPTAIN OF COMPANY H.]

Death singled out another shining mark when Captain Chapman fell in the fore-front of battle, on the same afternoon that beheld the close of Colonel Merwin’s life. Two congenial spirits in nobility and worth together passed to the land of immortality on that day of death’s high carnival.

Jedediah Chapman, Jr., was born in New-Haven, November twenty-first, 1839. Like Colonel Merwin, he was a member of the New-Haven Grays at the opening of the war, and accompanied them to the field as a private in the three months’ service. When the Twenty-seventh was being recruited under the call for nine months’ troops, he took hold of the work with vigor, and was in great part instrumental in raising Company H, of which he was chosen First Lieutenant. During more than one third of the campaign he had command of the company, and to his exertions and military experience its efficiency was largely due. Amid the terrors of that disastrous day at Fredericksburg, no one acquitted himself with greater bravery and coolness than Lieutenant Chapman. In consequence of protracted sickness during the spring of 1863, he did not participate in the battle of Chancellorsville, and thus escaped the fate of the regiment. But it was a great disappointment to him not to be with his men, and share with them the vicissitudes of the campaign. By reason of the disaster to the Twenty-seventh in that battle, only two companies of the regiment remained in the field, with a few remnants of those which were captured. These scattering portions were formed into one company, and Lieutenant Chapman was placed in command. His peculiar qualifications of discipline and character contributed much to their unity and effectiveness during the succeeding campaign of Gettysburg; and at their head he fell on the second of July, 1863. His commission as Captain of Company H, dated May thirteenth, 1863, had been already issued and forwarded; but he did not live to know of this well-deserved honor.

Much that has already been said of Colonel Merwin might, with equal propriety, be applied to Captain Chapman. He was an officer well known, and highly esteemed, not only in his own company, but throughout the regiment. He possessed in a peculiar degree all the elements which constitute an efficient, and yet popular, commander. In all his relations, he manifested a genial frankness of manner, a conscientiousness of purpose, and keen sense of justice, which at once gained universal confidence and regard. He was one of the most unassuming of men, and yet in that soul burned a depth of devotion to duty, and a power of noble action, which seemed to require the stern, trying scenes of war to bring them forth in their original strength and glory. So long as the campaign of the Twenty-seventh lives in the memory of those who participated in it, so long will the members of Company H cherish the name and reputation of their beloved commander, Jedediah Chapman.

* * * * *

Let us now turn to the long catalogue of enlisted men, whose names appear in the necrology of the regiment. History can never do justice to the grandeur and far-reaching importance of the cause to which they gave the testimony of their lives, nor can it do justice to the nobility and value of the sacrifice. It is not necessary to repeat in this place the names of these worthy men; but we will call to mind a few representatives of their number. There was Orderly-Sergeant Richard H. Fowler, of Company A, who died of wounds received at Fredericksburg. He was a native of Guilford, and one of a family whose record for active patriotism and sublimity of sacrifice has few, if any, parallels during the whole war. Corporal William A. Goodwin and Private Augustus B. Fairchild likewise fell at Fredericksburg. To the efficiency and worth of them all, the officers of the company bear willing testimony. Companies C, D, E, and F, also suffered severely in the loss of faithful and tried soldiers. The battle of Fredericksburg struck from the roll of Company H some of its most valued members. Among these were Orderly-Sergeant Thomas E. Barrett, and Corporals George H. Mimmac and Frank E. Ailing. Sergeant Barrett was a man of very superior character and education. Previous to his enlistment he had been a much-esteemed teacher at the Eaton Public School in New-Haven. The pleasant duties and associations of this position, and all its prospects of usefulness, he yielded up to enter the service of the country. Few made greater sacrifices, or made them more cheerfully, than he, in obedience to a purely unselfish sense of duty. He sought and expected no office, and only at the earnest solicitation of his comrades consented to accept the post of First Sergeant, and certainly no company ever had a more faithful and conscientious officer. He was a noble Christian soldier; a man whom society could ill afford to lose. But he has left behind him an example which should be carefully cherished and regarded. The sacrifice of such a man is of no ordinary value, and gives unusual significance to the struggle through which the nation has passed. Corporals Mimmac and Ailing possessed very similar elements of character. The latter was a member of Yale College at the time he enlisted, and left the congenial pursuits of a student’s life to respond to what he regarded the call of duty. Such were some of the men the ranks of the Twenty-seventh contributed to that roll of honored names, whose heroism and self-sacrifice will grow brighter and brighter, as the progress of years reveals, in all their meaning and influence, the events of the war for Liberty and Union.

RECORD OF CASUALTIES.

FIELD AND STAFF.

KILLED.

_At Gettysburg, July 2, 1863._

Lieutenant-Colonel Henry C. Merwin.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862._

Chaplain John W. Leek.

_At Gettysburg._

Adjutant George F. Peterson.

COMPANY A.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Corporal William A. Goodwin, Jr.
Private Augustus B. Fairchild.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

First Sergeant Richard H. Fowler.
Sergeant Nelson S. Wilmot.
Sergeant James B. Blair.
Corporal William H. Cornwall.
Private Thomas H. Wallace.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

First Sergeant Richard H. Fowler, December 17th, 1862, at camp
near Falmouth.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private Henry B. Hilliard, December 17th, 1862, at Hammond General
Hospital, Maryland.
Private Edward C. Hazard, October 16th, 1862, at Camp Terry,
New-Haven.
Private Frank A. Johnson, December 14th, 1862, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Treat A. Marks, December 25th, 1862, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Joseph B. Thompson, February 7th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Elbert W. Ball, August 5th, 1863, at New-Haven.

COMPANY B.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._.

Corporal George E. Wilford.
Private Timothy Callahan.

Private Joseph Bennett.
Patrick Condon.
Josiah Johnson.
Michael Taylor.
L. Mortimer Willis.
Edwin L. Wilford.

_At Gettysburg_.

Private Charles Paxden.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

Corporal George E. Wilford, January 8th, 1863.
Private Joseph Bennett, December 25th, 1862.
Patrick Condon, December 28th, 1862, in hospital at Annapolis.
Josiah Johnson, January 5th, 1863.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private George C. Baldwin, January 25th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Edward B. Dolph, March 20th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Lewis M. Tucker, October 10th, 1862, at Branford, Connecticut.
Second Lieutenant Edmund B. Cross, August 6th, 1863, at New-Haven.

COMPANY C.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Private Charles Michael.
Wilbur Nash.
Joel C. Parmelee.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private Samuel B. Clark.

_At Gettysburg._

Corporal Charles E. Cornwall.
Color-Corporal Joseph Stevens.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Captain Addison C. Taylor.
Second Lieutenant Charles B. Brooks.
Sergeant Henry M. Stanton.
Color-Corporal Henry E. Wing.
Color-Corporal James L. Ambler.
Color-Corporal Sydney R. Thompson.
Private Hector Murphy.
John Platt.
George W. Hine.

_At Chancellorsville._

Sergeant Charles S. Beatty.

_At Gettysburg._

Color-Corporal William S. Bodwell.
Corporal Gilbert A. W. Ford.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

Captain Addison C. Taylor, March 13th, 1863, at New-Haven,
Connecticut.
Color-Corporal William L. Bodwell, July 5th, 1863, at Gettysburg.
Color-Corporal Sydney R. Thompson, December 30th, 1862.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Color-Corporal Sydney H. Plumb, April 18th, 1863, at camp near
Falmouth.
Private John G. Clark, December 30th, 1862, in General Hospital,
Washington.
Private Harvey S. Welton, July 14th, 1863, near Harper’s Ferry,
Virginia.

COMPANY D.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Sergeant Garry B. Sperry.
Private William Reuter.
Gilbert Keller.

_At Gettysburg._

Private William O. Scott.
William E. Wilson.
Patrick Dunn.
Marcus O. Judson.
John Goodwin.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

First Lieutenant Frank H. Smith.
Second Lieutenant Ellsworth A. Smith.
Sergeant John A. Munson.
Henry B. Hill.
Benjamin H. Cobb.
George B. Lego.
Corporal Andrew J. Barnard.
Private James Johnson.
Alpheus D. Cobb.
Thomas M. Kilcullen.
Loren M. Higgins.
John Mitchell.

_At Chancellorsville._

Sergeant Fitch M. Parker.

_At Gettysburg._

Captain Cornelius J. Dubois.
First Sergeant George T. Swank.
Private Dwight T. Brockett.
Thomas M. Kilcullen.
William Lee.
Charles H. Nichols.
John Phillips.
Richard A. Tenner.
John E. Williamson.
John Hogan.
Thomas G. Yale.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

Sergeant Henry B. Hill, January 14th, 1863.
Benjamin H. Cobb, January 19th, 1863.
Private Loren M. Higgins, February 1st, 1863.
John Mitchell, December 15th, 1862.
Thomas G. Yale, August 26th, 1863, Philadelphia.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private John W. Lounsbury, December 8th, 1862.
Private William Goodwill, December 10th, 1862, at College Hospital,
Georgetown, D. C.
Spencer Bronson.
Thomas M. Kilcullen, September 10th, 1863, in Richmond,
Virginia.

COMPANY E.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Corporal James G. Clinton.
Private George Brown.
Andrew B. Castle.
Edward Thompson.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private William Burke.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Sergeant John D. Sherwood.
Private Timothy Carroll.
Seth Woodward.

_At Chancellorsville._

Corporal Frederick G. Bell.
Private Edward A. Dunning.
David S. Rockwell.

_At Gettysburg._

Private Charles H. Henderson.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private Jacob Schneider, January 19th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.

COMPANY F.

KILLED.

_At Gettysburg._

Private Michael Confrey.
Edward B. Farr.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

First Lieutenant DeWitt C. Sprague.
Sergeant Henry D. Russell.
Corporal Thomas Ward.
James B. Munson.
Elias C. Mix, Jr.
Private John Crosby.
John A. Hopkins.
Charles Higgins.
William A. Kelley.
Dennis W. Tucker.
James Williamson.
Henry C. Wakelee.
Henry A. Kelsey.
Leonard Russell.
William F. Tuttle.
Jairus C. Eddy.
Samuel Fowler, 2d.

_At Chancellorsville._

Sergeant Thomas Ward.
Private William Blakeslee.
John Crosby.

_At Gettysburg._

Captain Joseph R. Bradley.
First Lieutenant Charles P. Prince.
Sergeant Thomas Ward.
Corporal Henry W. Clark.
Private Edward B. Fowler.
Daniel O’Neal.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

_At Fredericksburg._

Sergeant Henry D. Russell, January 4th, 1863, in hospital, Washington.
Private Jairus C. Eddy, December 20th, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Samuel Fowler, 2d, January 9th, in hospital, Washington.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private John S. Robinson, June 18th, 1863, in Baltimore.

COMPANY G.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Sergeant Casper S. Gladwin.
Corporal Andrew J. Boardman, Jr.
Private Hosea B. Button.
Henry H. Onthrup.

_At Gettysburg._

Corporal William H. Stannis.
Private John Griffin.
Martin Merrill.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Nelson N. Beecher, June 24th, 1863.

COMPANY H.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

First Sergeant Thomas E. Barrett.
Corporal Frank E. Alling.
George I. Judson.
George H. Mimmac.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private John Rawson.

_At Gettysburg._

Captain Jedediah Chapman.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Sergeant Wareham A. Morse.
Frederick E. Munson.
William H. Alden.
Private Joseph A. Rogers.
Leicester J. Sawyer.
Private Hezekiah P. Smith.
Byron Ure.
Frank L. Merwin.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private Silas Benham.
James Braddock.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private Charles L. Alling, March 22d, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
Private Hezekiah P. Smith, January 18th, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.

COMPANY I.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Corporal Corydon N. Thomas.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

First Lieutenant Samuel M. Smith.
Color-Sergeant James Brand.
Corporal Henry B. Wilcox.
William G. Hill.
Judson H. Dowd.
Private Francis E. Beach.
Dennis Crummy.
Henry D. Calkins.
Alvah R. Doane.
Samuel J. Field.
Private George S. Hill.
Thomas Pentelow.
Julian F. Watrous.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private George W. Beckwith.

DIED OF WOUNDS.

Corporal William G. Hill, January 6th, 1863, in Washington.
Private Rufus S. Shelley, December 29th, 1862, in hospital, at
Georgetown, D. C.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private Joseph Hull, March 2d, 1863, at camp near Falmouth.
Private George S. Hill.
William M. Phile, April 20th, 1863.

COMPANY K.

KILLED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Captain Bernard E. Schweizer.
Corporal Albert Cabanis.

WOUNDED.

_At Fredericksburg._

Corporal Augustus Vogt.
Private John Huber.
George Gunther.
Ernst Klein.
Ernst Reuthe.
John Schaffner.

_At Chancellorsville._

Private Michael Hauserman.
George Eckle.

DIED OF DISEASE.

Private William F. Bernhardt, June 15th, 1863.

Tabular Statement of Casualties during the Nine Months’ Campaign.

Legend:-
F: Fredericksburg.
C: Chancellorsville.
G: Gettysburg.
D: Of Disease.
WF: Of wounds rec’d at Fredericksburg.
WG: Of wounds rec’d at Gettysburg.
Co: Company

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
| KILLED. | WOUNDED. | DIED. | PRISONERS.
|--------------+--------------+--------------+---------------
| F | C | G | F | C | G | WF | WG | D | F | C | G
----------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+-----+----
Field and | | | | | | | | | | | |
Staff, | .. | .. | 1 | 1 | .. | 1 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 4 | ..
Co. A, | 2 | .. | .. | 5 | .. | .. | 1 | .. | 5 | .. | 37 | ..
Co. B, | .. | .. | .. | 8 | .. | 1 | 4 | .. | 3 | .. | 38 | 1
Co. C, | 3 | 1 | 2 | 9 | 1 | 2 | 2 | 1 | 3 | .. | 27 | ..
Co. D, | 3 | .. | 5 | 12 | 1 | 11 | 4 | 1 | 4 | .. | 2 | 1
Co. E, | 4 | 1 | .. | 3 | 3 | 1 | .. | .. | 1 | 2 | 29 | ..
Co. F, | .. | .. | 2 | 17 | 3 | 6 | 3 | .. | 1 | .. | 6 | 1
Co. G, | .. | .. | .. | 4 | .. | 3 | .. | .. | 1 | .. | 25 | ..
Co. H, | 4 | 1 | 1 | 8 | 2 | .. | .. | .. | 2 | 1 | 30 | 1
Co. I, | 1 | .. | .. | 13 | 1 | .. | 2 | .. | 3 | .. | 39 | ..
Co. K, | 2 | .. | .. | 6 | 2 | .. | .. | .. | 1 | .. | 42 | ..
----------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+-----+----
Total, | 19 | 3 | 11 | 86 | 13 | 25 | 16 | 2 | 24 | 3 | 280 | 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Killed and wounded at Fredericksburg, 105
Killed and wounded at Chancellorsville, 16
Killed and wounded at Gettysburg, 36
---
Total killed and wounded, 157
Deaths in battle and by wounds at Fredericksburg, 35
Deaths in battle and by wounds at Chancellorsville, 3
Deaths in battle and by wounds at Gettysburg, 13
---
Total deaths by battle, 51
Deaths by disease, 24
---
Total deaths by battle and disease, 75
---
Total killed, wounded, and deaths from disease, 181
Taken prisoners, 287
---
Total casualties, 468

ARMY COMMANDERS OF THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.

_Army of the Potomac._

MAJOR-GENERAL AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE,
MAJOR-GENERAL JOSEPH HOOKER,
MAJOR-GENERAL GEORGE G. MEADE.

_Right Grand Division._

MAJOR-GENERAL EDWIN V. SUMNER.

_Second Army Corps._

MAJOR-GENERAL DARIUS N. COUCH,
MAJOR-GENERAL WINFIELD S. HANCOCK.

_First Division._

MAJOR-GENERAL WINFIELD S. HANCOCK,
MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN C. CALDWELL.

_Third Brigade._

BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL R. ZOOK.

_Fourth Brigade._