did. Finding their line deserted, we pushed forward and skirmished

with them, they falling back all the while evidently to get us into an ambuscade. We fell back to the line evacuated by the rebels and awaited results. The sharpshooters annoyed us exceedingly all day, being posted in the trees, and their clothing was so near the color of the bark of the trees that it was difficult to discover their position. The enemy gave us a vigorous shelling early in the afternoon; and as that nearly always preceded an advance, the whole line awaited anxiously the result. The Johnnies were soon discovered slowly approaching through the woods directly in front of the Sixth. They rushed forward with a yell, but did not find us unprepared to meet them. The bullets flew lively for a time, and the rebels swayed backward, but soon rallied and rushed forward in large numbers, forcing back the Union lines and regaining their rifle pits. Their numbers must have been very much larger than ours, and they evidently expected we would take their pits when they fell back, and no doubt had a plan laid to gobble us all up; but our commander displayed that wisdom requisite for the occasion. We retired, however, with considerable loss. The Sixth lost in this engagement 5 killed, 16 wounded and 18 missing. Capt. Nichols was captured by the enemy.

The weather was excessively warm and no exertion was required to produce perspiration. The thermometer on June 22d rose to 103 degrees in the shade. We were apprised of the fact that our worthy President, Abraham Lincoln, was near us, and all that were not engaged on duty were ordered to appear near the regimental quarters and render a proper salute. He came on horseback, attended by Gen. Butler and staff. The troops greeted him pleasantly and gave hearty cheers along the whole line. The President looked careworn and troubled. Undoubtedly the trials through which the nation was passing had much to do with his depression of spirits.

The next day we received some rebel papers which had an article headed, “What mean those cheers?” In allusion to the cheers which they distinctly heard, they inferred that we had received some good news of a recent Union victory; but as no such information had come to them through their sources, they finally came to the conclusion that it must be some scheme made known to the troops from the fertile brain of that “beefy, bloated Massachusetts Yankee,” as they called Gen. Butler.

Sheridan’s cavalry were at the “White House,” and were ordered to join Grant at the rear of Petersburg on the 25th of June. Some of our division were sent over the Appomatox to cover his retreat. The Sixth Connecticut and Third New Hampshire regiments formed a part of the force employed for that purpose, which returned to camp after their mission was accomplished. Sergt. Andrew Grogan, of Co. “I,” who had been but recently promoted to 2d Lieutenant, went on the picket line on the evening of June 29, in charge of the pickets of the Sixth. The rebels fired upon the line, wounding Lieut. Grogan in the thigh. He was carried to camp and the surgeons found it necessary to amputate the limb to save his life. The operation was performed successfully and he fully recovered. Lieut. Grogan was exemplary in his habits and was a consistent Christian; respected and loved by the regiment, and it was with sorrow that we were obliged to part with his services. It will be remembered that Lieut. Grogan bore Col. Chatfield from Fort Wagner after the Colonel was twice wounded in that memorable assault on the night of July 18th.

Gen. Butler issued an order calling for volunteers for fatigue duty upon his famous Dutch Gap Canal, offering eight cents an hour extra pay and two rations of whisky each day. The work was very laborious, the enemy keeping a continuous fire upon the working parties, which together with the excessive heat, rendered the service anything but desirable; yet many availed themselves of the offer. The pickets were strengthened and the reserve made secure to prevent any sudden dash upon the working parties; while our gunboats in the James rendered effective service in dispersing these advances. The Johnnies were pretty sure to retire if the gunboats sent their compliments. Some of the captured rebels affirmed that they could stand any ordinary shelling, but when our navy sent a whole “blacksmith shop, with forge and bellows complete,” they thought it was time to “change front to the rear.”

The report that Gen. A. P. Hill, of the rebel army, was advancing south of Richmond in the direction of Petersburg, aroused our General commanding, and Gen. Smith’s corps was ordered on the move. The Sixth was accordingly ordered to cook up the usual three days rations. We left the front shortly after midnight on the morning of the 14th of August, and at about 5 o’clock Sunday morning we crossed the James River on the pontoons, drove in the advance pickets and rapidly pushed forward, skirmishing with the enemy at different points. We soon heard the rebel yell, and the enemy came pouring upon us with all their fury. Our regiment, divested of knapsacks, immediately charged upon them and captured two lines of rebel earthworks, driving the enemy before us at a place called Strawberry Plains, near Malvern Hill. We skirmished with the enemy all day, and when night came on our division occupied Hancock’s old works near the hill, and gladly availed ourselves of a chance to lay down, but not to sleep, as that would have been a luxury not to be entertained. Owing to the excessive heat of the day, many fell from the ranks completely exhausted. So severe had been our campaign in Virginia, in its marches and fatigue duty, that the Sixth mustered but few men for duty. We were continually on the move; and often, in our midnight marches, some would fall asleep while in the ranks, and as soon as the order was given to halt and rest, the entire regiment would fall down where it stood, and sleep during the few moments allotted for rest.

The Sixth moved again on the 15th of August and fought the battle known as Deep Run. We were posted in the woods with Hawley’s brigade, looking for the position of the enemy; but the woods were so dense that we could scarcely stand in line. The rebel earthworks were in our front, but their exact position or strength was unknown to the brigade. We fixed bayonets and cocked our rifles preparatory to an advance and charge. Gen. Terry informed us in whispers, as near as he could, the location of the enemy, and directed us to creep through the underbrush till we came to a certain tree, and then charge. The word “forward” was given and the brigade moved through the woods as fast as the tangled underbrush would permit. The enemy discovered our advance ere we had proceeded far, and with a loud yell they opened fire from howitzers and musketry. The latter was terrific, and the bullets skipped through the leaves of the trees in terrible volleys. In passing through the woods we came to an opening which was made by the trees being felled and brush cleared away. About twenty rods in our front ranged a strong earthwork, behind which the rebels were strongly posted, and in the front was a huge abatis almost defying any approach. On went our brigade with a cheer, tumbling through the abatis and picking our way as best we could amid a furious storm of bullets; but the desperate rebels held their works till they saw us clear of the abatis and knew that we were coming for them, when they turned and fled; but we were too quick for some of them. Springing upon them in their pits we had a hand to hand combat, till they saw it was useless to hold out longer and a few surrendered, while the main body skedaddled through a corn field into a piece of woods. Beyond this point we did not proceed, as a deep ravine skirted the edge of the field, and beyond this the enemy were massing their scattered forces preparatory to regaining what they had lost.

With our force engaged and with the rebel force in front, it was deemed imprudent to remain on the captured ground and we fell back slowly, harrassed by the rebel sharpshooters. Once they charged upon our line, forcing us back with greater speed than we cared to travel on that hot day; and, although we did not run, we executed “some pretty tall walking.” A second dash made upon us we repelled with a few bullets, which prevented any further trouble from them. They recaptured their lost works and, doubtless, considered themselves the victors. Our captures amounted to about 200 prisoners and two stands of colors. The Sixth lost in this action five killed, sixty-nine wounded and eleven missing. Among the wounded were Captains Bennett S. Lewis, John Slottlar and Dwight A. Woodruff (severely), and Lieutenants John Waters, Joseph Miller and George Bellows. Capt. Woodruff suffered the amputation of his arm and endured severe pain for a few weeks, till released by death. He entered the army as a private and was steadily promoted for good conduct. He was brave and faithful, beloved by the regiment, and his untimely death was regretted by all. The color guard of the Sixth was worsted in this engagement, the sergeant with two corporals were wounded, and one was overcome by the heat. The remaining corporal, Edward S. Downs, seized the flag and brought it off the field in safety.

The second day after this engagement the rebels, emboldened by the fact of the Union lines not being advanced, made a simultaneous attack all along our lines, and drove in our pickets, but were repulsed after a sharp skirmish, and they were glad enough to retire. The corps fell back about two miles at night to a former position occupied by us, and at seven o’clock orders came for us to march again. It had been raining quite hard, and that Virginia mud was decidedly uncomfortable to march in. The artillery often got stuck in the mud and the command was necessarily delayed. After a wearisome march of seven hours we crossed the Appomatox river at Point of Rocks and resumed our march to the Weldon R. R. near Ream’s Station, in the rear of Petersburg.

Here we were again posted at the front. The Sixth occupied one side of the railroad track with the rebels on the other. Tents were out of the question. When a regiment moves from one place to another and halts for a season, to use a military term, “we pitch our tents;” but in this Virginia campaign tents were obsolete, and the term now used was, “we dug our holes.” Tents served to attract the enemy and draw their fire, and it was very unsafe to sleep in one even if we could do so; but in the holes in the ground we felt comparatively secure. It was rather a ludicrous sight to a casual observer to find an army of men burrowing in holes in the earth like so many woodchucks, and yet such was the fact. The whole of Grant’s line, extending from the south of Petersburg along the line of the Appomatox River down across Bermuda Hundred to the James, the army, when not engaged, were inside the “rat holes,” as the boys termed them. Some of these holes held a corporal’s guard, while others only served for two or three. They were hastily made, without any regard to architectural proportions, and yet not so deep but that they could be quickly evacuated.

Shelling from the rebels and from our side was kept up day after day and night after night for weeks, and when the tired soldier had a few moments to sleep he quickly availed himself of it, and no amount of shelling would disturb his slumbers; but let the clear notes of the bugle sound through the air and he was quickly at his post. We knew the bugle call meant work; either some advance was threatened, or the line ordered to move to another quarter. It required but little time to pack up our household goods, and we were not required to run after drays to load them, but the clothes we wore were our bedding, and any hole we found when night overtook us was our bed, with the sky for a covering and with a consciousness that we were battling for the right, made sleep attractive to the Union soldier.

Gen. Hawley’s brigade was ordered out on the morning of Sept. 3d to witness the execution of a soldier of the 7th Connecticut by hanging. The brigade formed three sides of a hollow square around the gallows and saw the victim yield up his life at the end of a rope. He had some real or fancied grudge against a man, and on the battle-field of Olustee, Fla., he took the opportunity to murder him, thinking, no doubt, the exciting scenes on the field would cover up his crime; but he was detected, tried before a drum-head court martial, found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging, and the day above mentioned the sentence was carried out. Another scene witnessed by our regiment, took place soon after, which was the act of drumming a soldier out of camp for cowardice on the battle field. The soldier was a private of Co. “I,” of the Sixth, who was convicted of cowardice by refusing to fight, and skulked to the rear. His head was shaved and the word “coward,” painted on a board, was put on his back, and he was marched through the brigade, with the drum corps playing the Rogue’s March.

The Sixth remained in the trenches around Petersburg, indulging in frequent skirmishing and entrenching themselves, occasionally holding short confabs with the rebel pickets, getting their views on the war question, till the 11th of September, 1864, when they were ordered a short distance to the rear and drawn up in front of Gen. Terry’s headquarters, where the non-re-enlisted men were mustered out of service. Their term of three years had expired, and the rebels, as if to give a parting salute, threw a shell into our midst which exploded, doing no damage, however, as the word “cover” was given in earnest this time. It was with pride and not a little satisfaction that the boys relinquished their trusty rifles, which had been their constant companions through many a hard fought conflict. Gen. Terry, in a speech to them, said: “The State of Connecticut might well be proud of the record of the Sixth.” He thanked us personally for our valor on the field, and hoped that we would live many years to recite the marches and battles on the field to the loved ones at home; and expressed a wish that the conflict would soon terminate, that he might also enjoy the blessings of civil life. Cheers were given with a will for our brave commander, and many a silent prayer went up for his welfare.

“Three days rations” were issued to the boys for the last time, and they bade an affectionate adieu to the comrades who were to remain. Many a tear glistened in the eyes of the old soldiers as the last good-bye was said, and all expressed a wish that the war would soon be over and they also be permitted to greet their friends at home. The boys “changed front to the rear,” and took the cars to City Point, and there embarked on the steamer United States. After a pleasant sail and the usual delays, we reached New York early on the morning of Sept. 15, landing at the foot of Canal street, North River; marched down Canal to Broadway, and down Broadway to the Battery, where a bountiful collation was served to us by the “Sons of Connecticut” residing in New York. After the repast was finished, they went on board the steamer Nassau and sailed for New Haven, arriving there at about 7 o’clock in the evening. Here a splendid reception awaited the old Sixth. Citizens and the military joined as an escort, and amid the booming of cannon (with blank cartridges) and the fireworks along the streets, the boys marched to the State House, where they were heartily welcomed and invited to partake of a rich and tempting repast. Ample justice was done to the viands, after which the boys separated for the night. Their final muster out and discharge was consummated on the 17th of September, just three years from the day the regiment left the State.