“Don’t they

furnish butter on bread and milk in coffee?” All these questions met with a ready response, and we informed our careful friends that there was nothing like getting used to these things, and Uncle Sam would not probably see us suffer while so many patriots wanted a contract to furnish supplies. Our drilling was not very proficient during the first few days of camp life, from the fact that the camp was filled every day with the friends of the regiment, and the soldiers not having their uniforms, it was rather hard to determine who were enlisted in the service and who were the visitors. It is nothing detrimental to say that perhaps we “smelt the battle afar off,” and anticipated a succession of drills when we were removed from our friends and the pleasant scenes that surrounded us in New Haven. But after we received our uniforms and rifles, which was a few days before our departure, it gave a new impetus. Then the boys began to feel that they were really soldiers. We would don the army blue, and with a pair of Uncle Sam’s brogans upon our feet, the boys would respond to the order to “fall in,” with great alacrity; and then such a tramp with the “tan-yards” upon the parade ground was a sight amusing to behold; and woe be to that individual who had corns upon his feet when such a piece of sole leather happened to light upon them. Under the efficient leadership of our beloved Colonel, a brief period sufficed

to acquaint us with a soldier’s varied duties. Each soldier received from Uncle Sam the usual equipment of kitchen utensils, which consisted of tin cup and plate, together with a knife, fork and spoon, and the men require no drilling to learn their use. If the order to capture a rebel fort was responded to with as much speed as the boys obeyed the call to “fall in for rations,” the cause of the Union would not suffer defeat at the hands of its defenders.

But all things have an end, and so it was with our pleasant camp at Oyster Point. After receiving the usual articles necessary for transportation, we received our marching orders. There was the usual bustle and excitement incident to breaking up a camp of soldiers, and each one felt that the time for parting with friends had come. Friendly greetings were heard on every hand. Many hearty hand-shakes and “God bless you,” were given with a will, and not a few were bathed in tears as the last good-bye was said. Many fond parents bade farewell to sons for the last time on earth. Lovers greeted those whose ties of affection and sympathy endeared them to each other, and fondly cherished the hope that they would meet again when the war was over. Our city fathers were not lacking in their praise at our soldierly bearing, and extended a prayerful wish for a speedy and triumphant return to our home and loved ones. One good old man, the Hon. James Brewster, from

whose name Company “F” Was called Brewster Rifles, appeared in camp to the company he was so endeared to, and made them a speech, recounting the hardships and perils of a soldier’s life, and expressing a wish to hear a good report from Company “F.” As we gazed upon the venerable aspect of this good man, whose counsel and judgment were entitled to so much respect, we could not but inwardly resolve that our best efforts should be put forth in defense of the sacred liberties which had been such a strong bulwark to our nation. Many were affected to tears during his address, and I doubt not the memory of that hour made a lasting impression on many hearts present as he closed with an old man’s blessing.

CHAPTER II.

Tuesday, Sept. 17, was ushered in by a warm sun and a genial atmosphere, which only served to increase our interest in the busy scenes that were before us, for we were all aware that the old Sixth would soon be en route for the seat of war. The colonel and staff were busy issuing orders, captains of companies were instructed to issue no passes to leave camp, and so far as was practicable all visitors were excluded from the precincts of the camp proper. The cooks were busy preparing our rations, and every one seemed to think himself an important personage around the cook’s tent. As the day wore on the clouds began to thicken, portending a storm, and as the call was sounded by the drummers at 2 o’clock to “strike tents,” the rain came down copiously. We rolled up the wet canvass as expeditiously as possible, which was quickly loaded on our army wagons, together with other camp equipage.

We received two days’ rations for our haversacks, consisting of boiled ham and hard bread, to nourish the inner man, and were soon in line for our departure,

but the usual delays incident to such an occasion kept us in line about three hours. 5 o’clock came, and with it the order to “Forward, march.” The band struck up “The gal I left behind me,” and we marched through the rain and mud to Belle Dock. The rain did not dampen the ardor of the boys nor decrease the patriotism of the citizens of the Elm City. Handkerchiefs from fair ones waved us adieu; men shouted “God bless the boys,” together with the martial music of the band to increase the enthusiasm, made our departure from New Haven pleasant to contemplate. Pleasant, from the fact that we felt that the prayers and best wishes of our good people would go with us, as incentives to noble principles and holy action. We embarked on the steamer Elm City and soon stretched ourselves on the several decks and in the cabin, glad enough for a chance to rest ourselves, for the rain had drenched us through to the skin. The boat left her moorings at 8 o’clock, and when we awoke we found ourselves alongside the dock at Jersey City. For some unknown reason we did not disembark till about noon. At 2 P. M. we left by rail for the capital of the nation. Arriving at Philadelphia we were entertained at the Union Refreshment Rooms with a bountiful collation, which was indeed refreshing to the inner man, and it also gave evidence of a large stock of loyalty on the part of the good people of that city. Every regiment

passing through the city were made heartily welcome to their hospitality, and none will ever forget the hearty cheers and the “God speed” which was heard on every hand.

Leaving Philadelphia, our next stopping place was at Perryville, where we arrived at 8 o’clock in the evening. We were delayed here about two hours, and were then ferried across the river to Havre-de-Grace, when we again started by rail for Baltimore, arriving there at 10 P. M. No cheers for the Union soldier startled our ears at this place. No demonstration of delight at our arrival, but all seemed sullen, and their actions showed more of a secession spirit than otherwise. We were ordered to fix bayonets before we crossed the city, for the memory of the Massachusetts Sixth who had preceded us was not forgotten, and a repetition of those scenes would not have found us unprepared. The spilled blood of the Massachusetts Sixth will ever be a stain upon the records of the Monumental City while this generation inhabits this mundane sphere.

We crossed the city to the depot where we found cars waiting to transport us to Washington. We were huddled aboard cars that we understood were used to transport cattle the day previous, and we had no reason to disbelieve the report, for the muck and filth covered the floors to such a depth that anything short of a pair of Uncle Sam’s “tan-yards” would

have been lost sight of in a short time. However, we accepted the situation, believing that it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. We arrived in Washington on the 19th, at 6 o’clock in the morning, very much fatigued by our wearisome ride in the cattle cars, wishing, longing, hoping, for what the