CHAPTER V.

The Sixth Connecticut Regiment left Beaufort on the evening of the 18th of March, bound down the coast. We passed several places of interest on our journey, among which were Mayport Mills, Fernandina and Fort Clinch. Deserted plantations lined the banks of the river and everything had the appearance of war’s desolation. In trying to cross the bar and enter St. John’s River we got aground, and after several ineffectual attempts, we finally succeeded by the aid of a tug-boat, and our destination, Jacksonville, was reached on the morning of the 20th of March. One U. S. colored regiment were the only troops in the town. We did not pitch our tents here, but occupied the houses which had but recently been vacated. We found in many of the houses everything necessary for housekeeping, even to beds and bedding. So hastily was the retreat of the chivalry from this place that many valuable household goods were among the trophies. Large quantities of eatables were found buried in stone pots, some quaint looking guns and almost every article needed for house use. Quite a number of families of rebel proclivities remained in the town, who were either unable to get away after we took possession, or else were unwilling to lose their household goods. We barricaded the streets and avenues leading out of the town by felling trees across the roads to prevent the incursions of the rebel cavalry which infested the woods back of the town.

Jacksonville was once a watering place and home for invalids, and many of our northern people resorted there during the months of winter to enjoy its salubrious climate. It must have been an inviting retreat in its palmiest days. Everything here seemed to have been laid out for comfort and convenience, unlike many places which we have visited. But alas! how things had changed. Houses that were once the home of wealth and luxury were now the abodes of the Union soldier. Gardens laid out with the choicest flowers were trampled under foot by horses of our cavalry; the stores were closed, the goods removed; and business at a standstill. A few negroes lurked around the town, who were glad to get under cover of the Union arms. Co. “F” of the Sixth occupied the fine old mansion belonging to Col. Pierson of the rebel army, which was situated on the corner of Market and Duval streets, opposite the Episcopal Church. There many of the troops resorted and the organ was in constant use.

The first Sabbath we spent in Jacksonville we attended service and listened to a very able discourse by the Rev. Mr. French; his subject was “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon.” The church was densely crowded with white and black soldiers, navy and army officers and civilians. In the course of his remarks he alluded to the deserted city and why the inhabitants had left it, fearing their lives would be in danger if they remained till the so-called Yankees made their advent in their midst. He expressed himself quite well pleased with the conduct of the white troops, and especially the Sixth Connecticut. He said Gen. Hunter had selected the Sixth above all others to occupy this place and protect the remaining inhabitants from the lawlessness of the rebel cavalry. He assured us our position was not an enviable one, as we were in a bad place and the woods swarmed with rebel cavalry, waiting only their chance to surprise us; but he (the speaker) was confident that the enemy would not catch us napping, and when brought to the foe, would meet them with determined bravery. We were quite pleased with the speaker’s allusion to our regiment, and he was personally thanked by many for the exalted opinion he entertained for us.

The Eighth Maine regiment arrived here from Beaufort a few days after we took possession. The rebels frequently annoyed us by shelling the town with a gun which they had fastened to a railroad car, and would bring it as near the town as they dared on the track, and then shell us. Our gunboats were not slow to disperse them, however, and they were soon driven back. On one of these occasions a shell entered a house (which the writer visited), passing through the bed-room in which a man and wife were sleeping, and in its course it passed through a stuffed-seat rocking chair on which lay the man’s coat, cutting off the skirts and forcing them through the back of the chair. The window glass were shattered and two looking glasses hanging in the room were broken, while the occupants of the bed were literally covered with plaster and splinters. The lady remarked to the writer that she was not partial to balls of that kind, and told him if he ever met Gen. Finnegan (the rebel commander), to present her compliments with the request that fish-balls would be more acceptable next time.

We found ourselves busy each day in preventing the raids of the enemy, and several times were called up at night by the pickets being driven in. Our force was so small that an advance very far would have been with a great sacrifice of life for us, and our gunboats prevented a very long stay of the rebel troops in the town. We suffered no loss of life in our regiment while here; a few were slightly wounded. An expedition of the negro troops went up the river as far as the town of Pilatki, where they surprised a small force of rebels and captured 14; the rest fled in dismay, fearing a large force was at hand. They also captured some horses and about $3,000 worth of cotton, which they brought away in safety. While on their way down the river the enemy fired upon them, wounding Lieut. Col. Billings of the First S. C. troops, a ball passing through the palms of both his hands and another through his leg.

On Sunday, the 29th of March, Gen. Hunter ordered the evacuation of Jacksonville by all the Union troops. The inhabitants begged permission to accompany the troops, as their lives were in danger as well as their property, if left at the mercy of the rebel troops. Their request was partially granted and they flocked in numbers to the transports with large quantities of household goods, which so completely blockaded the room that orders were issued to put the goods on the wharves again. Large numbers of negroes secreted themselves on board the boats, fearing to be left behind. As we left the town an old lady appeared on the veranda of her house wringing her hands and sobbing as if her heart would break, doubtless sad at our departure. A large number of the houses and stores were set on fire just before we got on board the steamers, and as we left the wharves the larger part of the town was in flames and was probably destroyed. This wanton act of vandalism was charged upon the negro regiment, and they in turn said the Eighth Maine Regiment was to blame; no doubt both of these regiments had something to do with its destruction. It was entirely unnecessary and uncalled for, and the wanton act of burning a town would not destroy the Rebellion nor reflect any credit upon those soldiers of the Union who fired it. Justice should overtake all, and severe punishment meted out to those who so far forget the bounds of propriety as to disgrace the honored cause in which they are engaged.

We did not arrive at Beaufort as soon as we expected, owing to a heavy storm of wind and rain which set in, and as our boats were old and so heavily laden it was not deemed prudent to venture outside in such a gale. The storm passed by and we reached our destination in safety on the morning of April 1st. We pitched our tents, expecting to settle down again; but the soldier has no abiding place in time of war, nor does he know one day where he will be the next. After thirty-five hours in Beaufort, we were off again on another “excursion.”

The rumors in camp seemed to indicate that this time the expedition was to be more formidable than any previous ones, and this was true, as the sequel will eventually prove. Large numbers of troops were being put on board steamers at this place and at Hilton Head; gunboats were active and all was bustle and excitement. The wildest rumors prevailed as to our destination; some asserted that we were going to Virginia, while others claimed Charleston as the most probable place of attack. The Sixth embarked on the steamer Belvidere and steamed down to Hilton Head, where we lay for one day awaiting orders; in the mean time troops were embarking and getting ready to sail. When all seemed ready, we were off for the conflict and came to anchor in Stono River, a little below the village of Legaresville. Here we found other troops had preceded us and were also waiting to land. The monitors and other gunboats were busily engaged up the river shelling the camps of the enemy. Two shots from the enemy came in rather too close proximity to our steamer for safety, and we hoisted anchor and dropped a distance down the river out of range. The gunboats were engaged nearly every day for a week in the direction of Charleston, while we remained on board ship awaiting orders. Finally it was rumored that there was some trouble existing between some of our officers high in command, and that the whole force was to be withdrawn. The rumor proved correct. Admiral Dupont and Gen. Hunter disagreeing in the plan of the battle, it could no longer avail anything and the whole affair proved a fizzle. In the meantime Gen. Hunter was relieved and Maj. Gen. Gilmore appointed to command. Gen. Gilmore was well known for his engineering skill and also his military prowess.

The morning of April 11th, the fleet withdrew to Hilton Head and reported, while the different regiments were sent to various posts. The Sixth encamped at Hilton Head, just outside the breastworks, where we remained till the 18th of April, when we again embarked and sailed for North Edisto, arriving there the next morning and anchored in the stream close to the dock, but we did not land till the 26th, when we were put ashore on Botany Bay Island, which is near the Edisto. We were immediately ordered out on a scout of about seven miles, after the Johnnies; but with the exception of passing a deserted cavalry camp we saw no evidence of the enemy. We returned to the landing and went on board the steamer, where we passed four more days, when we finally made a landing on Folly Island. The island was rightly named, for a man in civil life must indeed be a fool to think he could live on such a barren place; but a soldier is expected to live anywhere where he is sent. The island is a long strip of land about three-quarters of a mile wide at the widest point, and about four miles long, lying immediately south of Morris Island, from which the northern point is separated by only a narrow stream called Lighthouse Inlet. The lower part of the island runs down to a sharp angle and is covered with a thick growth of pine and palmetto trees, while the upper part was a low, marshy swamp. With swarms of sand fleas and mosquitoes for our constant companions, we pitched our camp on the sand hills; there could be no order or regularity to our company streets, for some tents were pitched on a hill, while others were in a valley. Our fatigue duty was quite arduous, as we were obliged to work nights, and had to maintain the utmost silence, speaking only in whispers. From the upper or northern portion of the island, where we built the batteries, we could see the Johnnies on Morris Island very plain; but they little thought of the doom that was in store for them. They suspected no serious movement on our part, and did not think we had more than one field piece on the whole island. When we were obliged to fell trees we sawed them in two and lowered them gently to the ground by means of ropes. All the heavy cannon were brought through the woods and mounted at night, and then masked by covering them with leaves and dirt. It was with the greatest secrecy that the work was pushed forward. The enemy saw none of our troops nearer than the woods except the picket line, and while we seemed idle by day, hundreds of shovels gleamed at night by willing hands, while battery after battery rose up, yet nothing was visible to the rebels. Huge mortars and parrot guns came from Hilton Head, landed at Stono Inlet and were dragged slowly and tediously to their place under cover of darkness. Ammunition was taken forward and concealed every night for over three weeks. The Sixth found its labors very severe. By moonlight and during heavy thunder showers the work went steadily forward. At the end of that time, ten large batteries had been completed, mounting 48 heavy guns and within 400 yards of the enemy’s works.

During the latter part of the time they began to suspect something was going on, for we could see them strengthen their batteries on the opposite bank. The rebel pickets were very inquisitive and tried to question us regarding our position, &c. We were on good terms with each other, and made miniature ships, freighted them with salt and coffee, and sent them over to the rebs, and in return they sent us tobacco. They informed us of the death of “Stonewall” Jackson, and displayed their flags at half mast and fired half hour guns throughout the day in honor of the deceased. They generally communicated to us the news of any battle that occurred sooner than we got it through our own sources. They seemed to relish a joke occasionally. One of them informed us that Gen. Beauregard had such an exalted opinion of the “Yankees” on Folly Island that he was coming over to make us a visit and give us all a “farm six feet by two.”

About the 1st of July large numbers of troops began to arrive at the island, and “old Folly” literally swarmed with them. The order was given for us to capture the battery on the end of Morris Island, and we expected to make a night attack, so we sewed pieces of white cotton cloth on the left arm, that we might be distinguished from the foe. At midnight on the 9th, large detachments of troops stepped quietly into boats and rowed silently up Folly River; not a word was spoken above a whisper, nor any noise heard, save the splashing of the oars and the occasional plunge of the alligators from the river bank. At about 3 o’clock the flotilla of eighty large launches had arrived near Morris Island, and we were ordered to keep close to shore and under cover of the tall sea grass that lined its banks. Here we waited patiently for the dawn of day,--a day that was to bring victory to our flag, but death to many a brave soldier. We could see from our position the rebel soldier lazily walking his beat on the parapet, while the smoke from the dim camp fires slowly ascended skyward. Everything indicated to us that they were not expecting cannon balls for breakfast nor the advent of the boys in blue. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the attack, looked every inch a soldier, as he moved among us giving cheering words to all. At precisely 5 o’clock, the batteries that we had worked on so faithfully for weeks, were unmasked to the enemy and opened simultaneously from 48 guns. The astonished rebels soon replied with great rapidity. As the ball opened, the inhabitants of Secessionville, on James Island, crowded to the roofs of the houses till they were black with them, to witness the battle. Our gunboats shelled the batteries with good effect, and the enemy discovering our position in the boats, scattered grape and cannister among us with fearful rapidity. There we lay in the boats for two hours under a heavy fire, while the rebels divided their compliments among us and the gunners at our batteries. The batteries did not seem to have the desired effect of dispersing the enemy, and Gen. Strong was signalled to land his forces and charge upon their works. The rebels perceiving the signal and interpreted its meaning, directed a galling fire at the boats. One boat of the Sixth was struck and a member of Co. “E” lost a leg which soon caused his death; another was wounded and the boat overturned, but was soon righted by help from others and the men rescued. We pulled for the shore, eager to land, and while a detachment of the Seventh Connecticut landed first on the left of the rifle pits and were feeling their way. The old Sixth sprang into the water knee deep and was soon directly in front of their battery; rushing forward with bayonets fixed and with an honest Union cheer. The rebels depressed their guns to rake us as we landed, but the shot struck the ground in front of us and passed over our heads, and the amazed rebels, seeing our determination, turned to flee just as we gained the first line of works, but we were too quick for them, and the Sixth captured 125 prisoners and a rebel flag. Private Roper Hounslow, of Co. “D,” saw the bearer of the flag making for the rear as fast as his legs could carry him, when he ordered him to halt; but he would not, and he shot him through the head. The flag was inscribed “Pocotaligo, Oct. 22, 1862.” It had blood stains upon it which were probably spilled at that place. Col. Chatfield waved the banner aloft, feeling very much elated to think we had captured the flag that bore this inscription, for he received a wound at Pocotaligo. Col. Chatfield led his men to the last range of rifle pits, which was within a rifle shot of Fort Wagner. The Sixth had the advance all day. Our flags were riddled with shell, and the staff of the stars and stripes was broken in three different places. A rebel ramrod was substituted for the broken staff, and our flags floated from the only house on the island. This house was the headquarters for the rebel officers, and when we entered it the coffee was in cups on the table and breakfast nearly ready; but we did not stop to eat, as we were looking for water; and seeing the coffee, disposed of it in short meter. Two solid shot from Fort Wagner came tearing through the house, demolishing the chimney and scattering the bricks upon the tables in great confusion. We concluded that we might be demolished if we remained in there long, so went out; the house being a good target, it was soon riddled with shell from Forts Sumpter and Wagner.

We remained at the front till about sunset, under a severe fire continually. Tired and footsore, with hardly anything to eat, and without sleep for three nights, we were glad when orders came for us to fall to the rear and another regiment to take our place. Gen. Strong was active all day and infused spirit into the soldiers by his commanding aspect. When we landed he was burdened with a pair of long military boots upon his feet, and as we jumped into the water these became so full that locomotion was well nigh impossible, so he pulled them off and threw them away, going in his stockings. The briars over the sand hills soon wore the bottoms of these off, and having captured a rebel mule, got astride of him and went forward with a cheer from the soldiers. Soon after the battle he appeared among the members of the Sixth, still astride the mule, who looked jaded enough. “Boys,” said he, “I don’t look like a General, but you look and have acted like true soldiers,” and immediately rode away, followed by the cheers of the soldiers.

It was determined to assault Fort Wagner and capture it with the bayonet. The Seventh Connecticut was to lead the charge, supported by the Ninth Maine and Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania. Early on the morning of the 11th, before the lark was awake, this command silently moved forward, drove in the rebel pickets and with a cheer rushed into the ditch and up the parapet, but met a very stubborn foe, who poured grape and cannister into their ranks. The Ninth Maine, instead of supporting them, wavered, at such a fearful fire, and ran away, while the Seventy-sixth Pennsylvania stood their ground. But the battle was against fearful odds, and they were obliged to retire and give up the contest. The Sixth lay all night in the rifle pits before Wagner, in a drenching rain, keeping a sharp look out for any surprise. On the morning of the 18th they came into camp wet and covered with sand, weary enough to lay up for a rest; but there is no rest for the soldier in time of war. Scarcely had we brushed off the sand and got a bite of pork and crackers before we were ordered to join in the assault on Wagner at dark. Never was an order more cheerfully obeyed, especially as the word passed around that Col. Chatfield was to lead us into action, the Colonel declaring his preference “to stand or fall with the men of the Sixth,” and refusing the honor of commanding our brigade, which belonged to him as the ranking officer. The gunboats shelled the rebel fort incessantly, plowing up great heaps of sand with one shell, and another perhaps would fill up the crevice. The broadsides from the New Ironsides were terrific, and the five monitors in line, together with five other gunboats, seemed to pour shell enough into Wagner to start several first class iron foundries. Shot and shell crashed above and within it and we wondered if half of them accomplished their mission. Before night came, hardly a gun boomed from Wagner, and many seemed to think an easy victory was within reach. As twilight approached the whole command lay under cover of the sand hills, waiting for the order to advance. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts (colored regiment) were given the post of honor, the right of the first brigade, which position belonged to the Sixth; but at the request of Col. Shaw of the Fifty-fourth, who wanted the black troops to distinguish themselves, Col. Chatfield granted them their wish. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the charge, then addressed them. He said, “Men of Massachusetts, I am going to put you in front of the chivalry of South Carolina, and they will pour iron hail in your faces; but don’t flinch; defend the flag and uphold the honor of the State of Massachusetts.” He further told them “the Sixth Connecticut was immediately behind them, and I know they will not flinch.” They fell upon one knee in the sand and with their right arm raised, they swore they would do it.

The command formed silently on the beach; the men seemed impatient to move as the scene became exciting. “Close column, by companies,” was the order given, and the first brigade was off for its work. Steadily forward we moved, while the gunboats still roared away. At a given signal they ceased their fire and the order passed to charge. The rebels waited till we were within range and then poured a volley into our ranks from their guns on the parapet, while the riflemen rattled their bullets from the small arms. The Fifty-fourth wavered for a moment, and that moment was fatal to them; they broke and fled. On pressed the Sixth through the iron hail, picked our way through the abatis, descended the ditch and climbed up the steep sides of the fort, and gaining the parapet, was among the rebels. The flash of a thousand rifles poured into us, followed in quick succession by hand grenades. Shrapnel, cannister and grape were freely showered into the ranks, while we leaped down to the casemates and bomb-proofs, driving the enemy before us in great confusion. They entered their rifle pits and checked our further advance. The night was so dark it was hard to distinguish friend from foe, and a signal from the rebels turned the fire of Fort Sumpter and Battery Gregg upon the angle of the fort which we held. In vain did we look for help from the second brigade. Many a brave soldier had sealed his loyalty with his blood, and Gens. Strong and Seymour, Col. Chatfield and others, were badly wounded and carried to the rear. We were virtually without any commanding officer to lead us. To wait for daylight would have been sheer madness, and the supporting brigade, terrified by the deadly cannonade, instead of relying upon the bayonet to accomplish the work, stopped and fired. The rebels saw the mistake and rallied upon the Sixth, which stood almost alone within their works. The charge was repulsed, but after remaining for about three hours under such a deadly fire, we escaped as best we could, with terrible loss. Had the second brigade supported us in time, no doubt we could have held it. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment rallied soon after they faltered and came up to the left angle of the fort, where they finally did good service. Here Col. Shaw met his death. The Sixth Regiment and the Connecticut colors were the first in the fort that night. The color-bearer, a German named Gustave DeBouge, was shot through the forehead while carrying the colors in the assault, and fell dead upon the flag, his life blood staining them through. Several brave ones who were near seized them, but they also fell either dead or wounded. Captain Frederick B. Osborn of Co. “K,” as brave an officer as ever wore shoulder straps, finally succeeded in pulling them from under the bodies and bearing them off in triumph. Our flags were much shattered and torn, but both were saved from the enemy.

In leaving Wagner that night, the ditch we crossed was filled with the dead and wounded, and we were compelled to step upon their bodies in making our escape. Many fell wounded upon the beach, and as the salt water surged over their bodies and in their wounds, their groans and cries were terrible to hear. Men begged piteously to others more fortunate, to remove them out of reach of the incoming tide. Our return to camp was attended with almost as much danger as our advance, and many brave men who were spared through the terrible ordeal in the fort, were either killed or wounded in returning to the rear. Every foot of ground seemed to be covered by the fire of the enemy’s guns. Batteries Gregg and Wagner, Forts Johnson, Ripley and Sumpter, besides two gunboats in the harbor, all directed their missiles of death to further our destruction while retreating; and how so many of us were spared through such a terrible conflict, can be attributed only to the goodness of our Heavenly Father. Truly the God of battles was on our side.

Our loss was quite heavy, considering the force engaged; the Sixth being exposed to the deadliest fire, their ranks were pretty well thinned out and the total figures footed up to 141 killed, wounded and missing. Many of the wounded brought off the field died the next day. Among the killed was Lieut. Stevens of Co. “I,” a cannister shot passing through his heart. He was Ass’t Adjutant General on Gen. Seymour’s staff, a position he filled with great ability. Having made military matters a study for a number of years his services were valuable to the government. His body was brought off the field and buried beneath one of the lone palmettos. A large influx of surgeons arrived from the North a few days after the battle, many of whom were mere boys, having hardly attained their majority, without experience, and many without common sense, came to Morris Island to assist in caring for the wounded. A slight wound in the limb was sufficient cause for them to amputate, and many suffered amputation of limbs that with proper treatment could have been spared to them. The writer saw a surgeon’s table improvised on a sand bluff, where these “would-be-surgeons” were using the scalpel knife in severing the arms and legs of the wounded, and a great pile lay beside them. Many a victim protested against this outrage, but was told that it was the only thing that would prolong life. The victims in many cases died soon after the operation.

Fatigue duty fell unusually hard upon the troops on the island, and every night found the Sixth in the trenches, building batteries or hauling heavy guns to the front. Under fire every day and night, the regiment suffered the loss of many members by wounds and death. While at the front one day a flag of truce came from Wagner, borne by a rebel Captain named Tracy. Capt. Tracy of the Sixth met him and found that he wanted to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners. Gen. Vogdes was informed and the terms agreed upon. On Friday, July 24, a large steamer bearing our wounded, came down the harbor and ran alongside of one of the monitors. It was said she was a blockade runner and had recently ran the blockade. Upon her decks were Englishmen dressed in the height of fashion, talking loudly of the superior intellect of the southern chivalry. The steamer Cosmopolitan, which had recently been fitted up as a hospital ship, ran alongside and delivered up the rebel wounded and the rebels gave us 205 Union soldiers. They also reported that they had amputated the limbs of 25 and that 50 had died on their hands. We also learned that they were so indignant because our government employed negro troops, that when they found Col. Shaw’s body they dug a deep trench and put the body in and then threw 25 dead negroes top of it. This circumstance we learned to be a fact, the pickets in our front having reported the same thing to us.

The Sixth Regiment, so shattered in the charge of the 18th and depleted in numbers, was ordered to Hilton Head to recruit and care for the large numbers who were wounded. We landed there on the 31st of July, commanded by Captain Tracy, who was senior Captain in the regiment and highest officer for duty. While at the Head the news came to us of the death of Gen. Strong and Col. Chatfield, both having gone North to recruit their health. The men of the Sixth cherished very great affection for their beloved Colonel, and were grieved to hear of his untimely death.

Col. Chatfield was born at Oxford, Conn., in 1826; was the son of Pulaski and Amanda Chatfield. He was apprenticed to the carpenter business in Derby, where he served four years at his trade; after which he worked as a journeyman. In 1855, having moved to Waterbury, he was associated with a brother in building, and the firm was widely and favorably known. Always upright, a man of sterling integrity, prompt and honorable in all his dealings, he possessed the confidence and esteem of all with whom he came in contact.

Col. Chatfield was born a soldier; he commenced as a private in the Derby Blues and was active in raising the Waterbury City Guard, and afterwards became its Captain. His service with the three months troops was a fine school in which to display his military genius, and he caught the true military spirit, which he seemed to infuse into his fellow soldiers. Subsequently, becoming Colonel of the Sixth, he brought it to a state of discipline second to none in the service. The early part of the service seemed too much for him, and he remained at Annapolis, an invalid, while the regiment was sent on the expedition, but joined it again in January, 1862. At Pocotaligo he received a cannister shot in his right thigh, but recovered sufficiently to join us again in April, when for a time he was placed by Gen. Hunter in command of the forces at Hilton Head. After serving there for some time, he was relieved at his own request and permitted to join in the operations on Morris Island. In the charge on Fort Wagner he was wounded in the leg, and in attempting to drag himself out, was hit a second time in his right hand, which knocked his sword out of his grasp. He was carried to the rear by Private Andrew H. Grogan of Co. “I,” and Chaplain Woodruff procured transportation for him to his home. He spoke very feelingly in regard to the charge of his regiment, and inquired if the colors were safe. Being informed that all that was left of them was brought off the field, his eyes glistened as he replied, “Thank God for that; I am so glad they are safe; keep them as long as there is a thread left.” He was sent home on a steamer, but the journey was exhausting to him and probably hastened his death.

He passed away from his earthly labors August 10, surrounded by his family. Just before his death a gleam of consciousness was visible, and looking up he recognized his weeping family, and expressed his entire willingness and readiness to depart, and died with hardly a struggle. Had Col. Chatfield lived he would have distinguished himself, and no doubt risen high in rank; his record a knight might envy. His noble deeds and eminently Christian character will ever be fresh in the memory of the members of the old Sixth Regiment.