The firing upon the city was continued daily notwithstanding our being brought here and placed under fire of our own batteries as a means of saving the besieged city. Cheer after cheer went up as we heard the missiles crash through adjacent buildings.

On September 17th, at 1 P.M., a fire broke out near us. General Foster immediately opened on the place, the fourth shell bursting in a dwelling house near by, setting that also on fire. So accurate were Gilmore's guns aimed that two shells burst in the burning buildings; and the negroes told us that one struck an engine, entirely destroying it, and killing several firemen. One shell struck our wall, tearing it nearly down. Several pieces of shell came into the yard where we were, but no one was injured. One of our officers in Roper Hospital was wounded in the arm by a piece of shell that came through the roof while he was eating dinner, making a flesh wound, smashing up the table, and passing on through the floor. In the evening we often watched the shells coming, and it was a beautiful sight. We first caught the flash of our guns; then, after waiting a few seconds, we could see the missile, which looked like a shooting star, climbing up higher and higher; and, when it reached its full hight, we could hear the report of the guns that sent it; by this time the shell was so near, that we could hear its sharp, shrill shriek; then it gradually descended, and approached until it was right over our heads, when it burst, most of the pieces going beyond us. The report of the explosion then reached us, as we heard the fragments rattle among the brick walls, or crash fearfully through the wooden tenements. Shells from Gilmore's batteries on Morris Island were continually making sad havoc in the city, killing and wounding from one to eight persons daily, and going through entire blocks. Sometimes a single percussion shell would blow up an entire building.

On October 2d, Major Pasco received a letter from Lieutenant Colonel Burnham, stating that he was once more a prisoner of war and confined at Wilmington. This was news that very much surprised us. It seems that after being exchanged at Charleston, he had been home and had got newly fitted out, and was on his way to the regiment. At this time Co. "H" and a few others of the regiment which had been gathered from different points were stationed at Roanoke Island, and this composed the 16th Connecticut Volunteers, on the Union side of the lines. Lieutenant Colonel Burnham took the steamer "Fawn" at Norfolk, and while passing Coinjock, on the Albemarle and Chesapeake canal, they were fired into by guerrillas, who lay concealed near the shore. One was killed outright and several wounded. The remainder were taken prisoners, and the steamer was burned. The prisoners were marched to Elizabeth City, and turned over to the rebel authorities. Colonel Burnham was soon after again paroled.

COLUMBIA.

On October 5th, we went to Columbia. Captains Morse, Burke, and Robinson escaped by jumping from the train, but were recaptured on the 11th, and rejoined us next day at Camp Sorghum.

That we might get wood the commandant allowed a certain number to be paroled each day. Their names were written on a piece of paper, handed to the officer of the day, who instructed the guard to pass them in and out at their pleasure till night. On the 3d of November, Captains Robinson, Dickerson, and Burke, took advantage of this, and successfully escaped, an account of which has been written by Captain Dickerson as follows:

"Upon the evening of the 3d of November, 1864, a large number of officers were paroled for the purpose of bringing wood for cooking and building purposes. Three of us,—Captains Burke, Robinson, and myself—finished getting wood, saw our paroles destroyed, returned to camp, and, after a short time, recrossed the guard-line, and, unsuspected, made our way to the woods. We kept slowly through the woods, until we were safely beyond the reach of the rebels. Night coming on, we traveled through the fields and woods, until we struck a road which ran parallel with the Congaree River; and traveled southward about twelve miles. We then left the public road, and traveled through the woods, toward the river, which was about eight miles distant. Upon the afternoon of the 4th, we fell in with five other of our escaped prisoners from the same camp, who escaped two nights previous to ourselves by bribing the guard. They had been in the swamp two days, and had made an arrangement with the negroes for provisions, and information where two boats could be found. We joined our parties, and in the evening the negroes met us, and furnished us with the promised necessaries. Proceeding to the river, which was about two miles distant, we found the boats which accommodated all of us. At about eleven o'clock, all things being ready we embarked in our boats, and paddled down the river. Early in the morning, we landed, having secured a hiding-place for our boats and ourselves, and devoted the day to cooking and sleep. Darkness again found us upon the river; and we soon passed the bridge of the South Carolina railroad, which was guarded by sentries; paddled all night; and again secured ourselves for the day.

"While engaged, some in cooking, others in sleep, our attention was attracted by loud talking; and soon we discovered a boat below us, upon the river, being poled up the river by negroes. One of our party posted himself upon the bank of the river, where he could hail the boat without discovering the presence of the rest of the party, and, hailing the negro in charge of the boat, informed him that he was in want of provisions. The negro replied that he had no time to stop, and persisted in keeping on his course. When all entreaty failed, the captain told him he was a 'Yankee' officer, escaped from rebel prison, making his way north and needed provisions, and information regarding obstructions in the river. The negro no sooner learned his true character than he immediately landed, secured his boat, staid with us all day, cooking rations, and giving very valuable information. He claimed in return for his service, a sight of the rest of the party, whom he had instinctive shrewdness to know were concealed close by. Night again found us upon the river; and after a few hours' sail we landed at a farm, of which we had been informed by the negroes, where we succeeded in capturing a goat, which supplied us with meat to our journey's end.

"Monday and Tuesday nights nothing occurred to delay our progress toward the desired goal. Wednesday evening, we had been going down the river but a short time, when we reached a ferry, where we made the acquaintance of four negroes, who furnished us with a large quantity of sweet-potatoes, salt, and meat. Upon parting with them, they bade us God-speed and a safe journey. Elated and happy with our success, we kept steadily forward; and soon after we landed to again consult the negroes, who told us we were but five miles from a battery, mounting two pieces, upon the right bank of the river, guarded by rebel soldiers. After receiving other information and provisions, we parted company with the last of our negro friends, and proceeded down the river, passed the battery in safety, and, landing, waited for the darkness of the night to finish our journey to the coast. Thursday night, full of hope, we again took to our boats, and meeting no interference, reached the coast safely.

"The light of Friday morning, November 11th, revealed to us the spars of a ship, which we soon made out to be one of the United States blockade. It was the Canandaigua, Captain Harrison; and after sundry attempts we succeeded in getting safe on board, under the protection of the star-spangled banner. We came north on the Fulton."

Of the many devices for escape, all were not as successful as the above, as our major will testify.

Major Pasco had become possessed of two gold dollars which had been sent him in cans of solidified milk from the north. He had bribed a guard to permit Captains Morse, Turner, and himself, to pass out that evening between the hours of eight and ten, for the two gold dollars and a jack knife. At the appointed time, and all three officers being ready, they approached the dead line, and Captain Morse going first gave the booty to the guard who allowed him to pass and also Captain Turner. At this point an officer who was lying on the ground and trying to escape on his own hook in another manner, jumped up and passed out. The guard had passed out three according to agreement. Major Pasco came along and was halted by the guard, and the following conversation took place:

Major. You agreed to pass out three of us.

Guard. Well I have let out three. You must go back.

Major. That last man you let pass didn't belong to my party.

Guard. Can't help it, I have let out three and you must go back.

The Major undertook to explain matters, but the sentinels along the line commenced to fire at him and he beat a hasty retreat into camp, where he dreamed all night of the officer who euchred him out of an escape.

But the Major was not to be foiled out of a successful escape. He made a second attempt to reach the Union lines by writing out a false sick certificate to pass to the hospital, but he was recaptured after seven days absence. The third time he succeeded. Shortly after the train left Columbia, while we were going to Charlotte, N.C., he jumped off the train and was overtaken by Sherman's army. Lieutenant Bruns also escaped from this prison, but was recaptured and brought back after an absence of ten days. Captains Morse and Turner were returned to prison, having been absent a month. There were so many escapes from this prison that on the 12th of December, the rebels marched us into the city and confined us in the yard of the Insane Asylum with a brick wall around it eight or ten feet high, and eighteen inches thick.

CHARLOTTE, RALEIGH, GOLDSBORO, WILMINGTON.

The month of February was full of rumors in regard to our exchange, but it was an old story to us given out to prevent our trying to escape. On the 14th and 15th we were moved to Charlotte. General Sherman had by this time arrived within two miles of the city and was posting his artillery on the hill, (Camp Sorghum[3]) where we had been imprisoned a few weeks before.

As the train started. General Sherman opened his batteries on the city. Lieutenant Landon and a party of sixteen had managed to hide themselves between the rafters under the floor of the second story of the Hospital building, where they stayed with little or no food for forty-eight hours and fell into the hands of Sherman. Major Pasco, Captains Morse and Turner, who jumped from the first train that left Columbia, secreted themselves in the woods and General Sherman overtook them on his way north. The remaining officers of the 16th were sent to Charlotte with the rest of the prisoners, arriving there on the evening of the 16th, having been delayed some hours at a point 40 miles from Columbia by running into a drove of cattle which the rebels were driving ahead of Sherman's course. The engine, tender, and one car was thrown from the track, killing three beef creatures. This was issued to us, being the first meat of any kind that we had tasted for four months and ten days.

Disembarking from the cars on the morning of the 17th, we marched three-quarters of a mile to a little pine grove, which we called Camp Necessity or Camp Bacon, by reason of some bacon having been issued,—the only meat rations for over four months. The fact that we were soon to be exchanged was now confirmed by the rebels taking off part of the guard and allowing them to use unloaded muskets. Still[4] "old fish" turned away and would not believe it, and a good many escaped, as it was a very easy matter. Captain Hintz and Lieutenant Bruns immediately left, and Lieutenant Johnson with Lieutenant Eli P. Alexander, (Co. H. 26th Mich.,) went out about noon, and nothing has ever been heard from them. It is supposed that they were murdered by guerrillas. On the 20th, we signed a parole not to serve against the Confederate States until regularly exchanged, and that evening we left for Raleigh, where we stayed a few days and thence proceeded to Goldsboro, where we were quartered in the Court House. On the 27th we signed the following parole.

About six o'clock in the evening of the 28th, we left Goldsboro by cars crowded both in and outside, amid cheers and songs, bound for Wilmington, which was now in our possession. Riding all night, daylight found us standing on the track at Rocky Point, a few miles from Northeast Bridge, and fourteen miles from Wilmington. This was the picket line and out-post of the rebels. At nine o'clock Colonel Hatch on a special train arrived and proceeded ahead with a flag of truce on the engine. We soon started and reached neutral ground about ten o'clock. About a mile past Marlboro, we came in sight of the "Boys in Blue." Three cheers were immediately given. As the train came to a stand still, all were silent, and we quietly disembarked and were counted through the ranks of twenty Union soldiers, they presenting arms. As soon as we were able clearly to comprehend that there was not somebody at our side with a loaded musket, cheer upon cheer was given, caps were thrown high in the air, some were hugging and kissing each other, and others cried. Whilst some sang, others were laughing and rolling on the ground. Finally our old pans, kettles, bags of meal, and bundles of all sorts were flung high in the air. Cheer upon cheer was given for Lincoln, Grant, Sherman, and General Exchange. Some hugged the horse of a Colonel, who seemed to have command over us, but tried in vain to get us into line. Taking up the line of march, a mile brought us to Cape Fear River, and in sight of the United States flag. Cheer after cheer ran the whole length of the line. The 6th Connecticut was encamped on the bank of the river, and at the end of the pontoon bridge which we had to cross, they had erected a handsome arbor decked with flags. In the center of the arch, surrounded with a wreath of evergreens, were the words

"WELCOME, BROTHERS."

A band was placed here, and played "Hail to the Chief who in Triumph Advances." Some few cheered but more were moved to tears, and kissed that dear old flag which they had so long suffered for, and all marched under with uncovered heads. Arriving at the top of the hill, we found the whole division of troops in line to receive us. On reaching camp we partook of a breakfast of United States rations, the first full meal which we had had for a long time. At noon those that were able walked to Wilmington, a distance of nine miles. We were here met by officers who provided us with another meal, and then we were quartered in churches and private residences. The next day (March 2d,) we took the steamer "General Sedgwick" for Annapolis, Md., where we remained a week, receiving two months pay and a leave of absence for 30 days, at the end of which time we were to report at Camp Parole, Annapolis, Md.

Extracts from a statement made in 1867 by Lieut. B.F. Blakeslee, to a "Congressional Committee on the Treatment of Prisoners of War and Union Citizens;" John P.C. Shanks of Indiana, Chairman.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER VIII.ToC

PRISON LIFE OF THE ENLISTED MEN.

It is to the credit of the rebel soldiers whose good fortune it was to capture our command, that we were treated with considerable courtesy and kindness while in their power. Our men were allowed to retain their blankets and overcoats, and all little articles of value which they might have upon their persons. Many of the men had about them large sums of money which they were allowed to keep. From Plymouth, the long and wearisome march made to Tarboro (an account of which is given in the preceding chapter,) together with scanty rations and exposure, told severely on the men, and many were sick and feeble; and it was with no little pleasure that, on the morning of April 29th, they marched to the depot in the town to take cars to Camp Sumter, where, as the rebels informed them, rations would be dealt out plenteously. They were crowded aboard small box cars by forties, and, in addition, six rebel guards were stationed in each car, occupying the door. Of course under such circumstances, they were nearly suffocated, and were pressed almost out of shape. The train started at 10 o'clock, stopping at Goldsboro, where rations were issued, consisting of three small hard crackers and a little scrap of bacon, to subsist on for the next twenty-four hours. Although arriving at midnight at Wilmington, they were not allowed to get out of the wretched cars until morning. At sunrise they were marched down to the dock, and conveyed by ferry boats to the opposite side. Taking the train in waiting for them, they proceeded to Charleston, arriving there on Sunday morning, May 1st. In the afternoon they were transferred to another train and put aboard platform cars and at a rapid rate went to Savannah, Georgia. But before reaching there they were overtaken by a storm and thoroughly drenched with rain. Changing cars at Savannah, they proceeded to Macon, and thence to Andersonville, arriving there at nine in the evening. Leaving the cars they were marched into an open field near by, where they remained during the night, and marched into the prison pen the next morning under the escort of a strong guard. How each one felt as he entered this "hell upon earth," can little be imagined. The first night ten died near the position of the 16th. The men seemed to stand it pretty well at first, much better than the other regiments captured at Plymouth, and it was not until the 20th of June that the first of their number died, Alonzo A. Bosworth, Co. D. But by the 1st of August, some of the Sixteenth died nearly every day.

The inhuman treatment which our men experienced in Southern Prisons has been told over and over, and is well known in history and need not be repeated; but this history would not be complete without inserting the following testimony of rebel barbarity taken from the diary of Corporal Charles G. Lee, (Co. B.,) who died from exposure and lack of food, immediately after being exchanged at Wilmington, N.C. He writes as follows, "Again I am called to bid adieu to the passing year, but under very different circumstances from any in which I have ever been. During the year 1864, I have passed eight months in the most degrading imprisonment. In that time, our inhuman captors had not furnished shelter of any kind; and we have repeatedly been for two and three days at a time without a morsel of food; and even that we have received would at home have been generally thought unfit for swine. We have not had a particle of meat for forty-two days, and but little molasses, or any thing to take the place of it. Our rations chiefly consist of about a pint and a half of coarse corn-meal, and half a teaspoonful of salt daily. Now and then we receive a few beans or sweet potatoes. Many a night have I lain awake because I was so hungry that I could not sleep."

About the 1st of September the prisoners were removed to Charleston, South Carolina, where they remained about four weeks, when the yellow fever broke out and raged so fearfully among the rebel forces who guarded the prisoners, that they were removed to Florence, where they spent the winter months. During the latter part of December, 1864, and the months of January and February, 1865, the men were—a few at a time—paroled and allowed to come north, and afterwards were regularly exchanged, thus ending the career of the Sixteenth in prison, with the heavy loss of over fifty per cent. in deaths, in a period of a few months. A more detailed account has been published by Sergeant Major Robert H. Kellogg, in his "Life and Death in Rebel Prisons." Among the number who escaped from prison, were Quartermaster Sergeant Hiram Buckingham and Andrew J. Spring, of Company K. An order was received for the names of all sailors at Andersonville. Sergeant Buckingham suspecting it was for the purpose of exchange, obtained a suit of sailor's clothes, and accordingly took the name of Johnny Sullivan, a sailor who had died in the hospital a few months before. In about a week after the names had been registered, the sailors were ordered out of prison. Buckingham answering "Here," to the name of Johnny Sullivan, passed out without detection. They went to Charleston, thence to Richmond, and were exchanged, having been in prison just six months.

Andrew J. Spring in some manner procured money enough to bribe a guard, who allowed him to escape with two comrades. They were five days in reaching the Union lines, living meanwhile on sugar-cane, green corn, and persimmons. Traveling in the woods, they guided themselves by the moss, which grows heaviest on the north side of the trees, and successfully passed three lines of rebel pickets.

The shooting of prisoners who came near the "dead line," was of almost daily occurrence; for if they were near it with no intention of escaping, the sentinels would fire. The regiment lost one man in this manner, William Drake of Company A, who was shot December 4th, 1864.

CHAPTER IX.ToC

1865.

NEW BERNE,—HARTFORD, CONN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The regiment participated in the following

ENGAGEMENTS.

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

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

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

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