[Written by Corporal John G. Gammons.]

The early history of this company is of such importance and interest as to claim more than a passing notice.

Company A, known as Halifax Light Infantry, was organized in 1792 when George Washington was President of the United States and John Hancock Governor of Massachusetts. It was one of the first companies in the State to receive its charter from Governor Hancock, and therefore takes rank as one of the oldest among the militia companies in the State at that time.

It was well armed, equipped and drilled and was in active service in the war with England in 1812-14, being on duty at Boston, Mass., where for faithful service rendered, it received the thanks of Governor Hancock and the commendation of the citizens of Boston.

It was commanded by Capt. Asa Thompson of Halifax, a “mighty man of valor” of gigantic proportions, being six feet seven inches in normal condition, and eight feet tall with his captain’s hat on. On parade and at musters this company attracted attention, not only by the Saul-like appearance of its captain, but also by the large black bearskin caps worn by its officers and men. Tradition says that when Captain Thompson marched his company across South Boston bridge throngs of men, women and children would collect to see “the giant” and his men, and not a few would tremble with fear that the bridge would not be able to support the captain and his great company.

When President Lincoln issued his first proclamation for troops, Company A (as minute men) reported for duty April 16, 1861, being commanded by Capt. Joseph Harlow of Halifax, whose height was six feet two inches. This zealous and patriotic officer rode all night through the towns in which the members of the company resided, summoning them to meet on Boston Common the next day, by order of Governor John A. Andrew. This midnight ride has been fittingly compared to that of Paul Revere.

Company A was assigned to the Third Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, three months’ men, Col. David S. Wardrop commanding, and was ordered to Virginia, where it did its full share in destroying Gosport Navy Yard. It afterward served there under Major-General Butler and was doing guard duty when the slaves coming into our lines were declared “contraband of war” by that officer.

Sept. 18, 1862, Company A, having united with Company G, of Assonet, went into camp at Lakeville, Mass., known as Camp Joe Hooker. John W. Marble, of Assonet, receiving eighty-seven votes, was declared elected captain of the company; Charles P. Lyon of Halifax was elected first lieutenant, and Nathaniel Morton of the same town was elected second lieutenant; each of these officers receiving the same number of votes as Captain Marble. Never was there a more democratic election and never were men better pleased with their officers.

Captain Marble proved a kind-hearted man, caring for his men and giving them his best in military drill, discipline, clothing and rations. He also kept an eye on his men when on the march and in battle. He was never known to fall out on the march, or to be taken suddenly sick on the eve of a battle, or ride in an ambulance on the long and weary forced marches. His men had confidence in him and were always ready to obey his commands without asking questions; and, although not a graduate of West Point, no battalion or brigade movement ever puzzled him to know where to place his company, either on drill or in the evolution of field movements.

Lieutenant Lyon was not only a good officer, he was a good man. No day was so hot or stormy, and no night was so dark or cold, that he did not fulfill his duty beyond the letter of the law, whether that duty was in camp, on picket, or on the march. His interest in the company is reciprocated by “The Old Boys” to this day, and will continue as long as one of the company is left to tell of war events and our reunions are characterized by fraternal greeting rather than “paying off old scores.”

Lieutenant Morton had, and still continues to have, a large place in the esteem of the company. He was always ready to serve when and where his service was wanted and needed. He was the gentleman, the officer, the friend of every man in the company. Always at his post of duty, on the march, everywhere; and in everything he proved himself worthy of the confidence of his superiors, equals, and inferiors. In battle he had no fear of all the rebels “this side of perdition.”

Like the commissioned officers, the non-commissioned officers were men of worth and usefulness. No company could boast of a better orderly sergeant than Company A. For proficiency in drill, promptness at guard mount and discipline, Orderly Sergt. James H. Hathaway stood number one. Danger to him was a thing unknown. Duty before pleasure, and obedience to his superior officers was his slogan.

Sergt. William A. Lyon was always ready to go when and where ordered and do as ordered. He was a well drilled man, a true soldier, beloved and honored by the whole company.

Sergt. Stephen Hathaway was known as “The man of money,” yet he never allowed money to become his stepping stone to preferment. He was as ready as any one to do his duty with the company, regardless of toil, deprivation or danger, when not on detached duty.

Sergt. Morton V. Bonney could outlift any man in camp. I once saw him stand astride a full barrel of pork which others could not lift, and, taking it by the chimbs, raise it clear from the ground, saying, “There, I have lifted your darned old barrel of pork.” In drill he was accurate, and on dress parade the perfect soldier; and, like Israel’s second king, he “behaved so wisely” that every one respected and loved him.

Ordnance Sergt. Frederick Thayer was not only a master of his trade, but prompt in every detail of his work. Every weapon was always ready when wanted for guard mount, dress parade or for the march, and not one of Company A was ever sent to quarters because of a rusty or dirty gun.

Corporals Uriel Haskins, Ephraim Haskins, Thomas Gurney, James E. Arnold, Soranus Thompson, David B. Hill, and John G. Gammons, were always ready and faithful in the discharge of every duty assigned to them.

Asa Kilbreth could blow “The Flowers of Michigan” through a fife as no other musician in the regiment, if in the world. His time was so perfect that every one could keep step when marching in review. John G. Bonney was as good with his drum as “Uncle” Kilbreth with his fife, and when these two musicians sounded reveille every man was ready for roll call. The whole company was made up of exceptionally good and true men, “soldiers from the word go.”

Company A could truthfully boast of more musical talent than any other company in the regiment. Singing could always be had for the asking, without money and without price. Stringed instruments were in evidence. A double quartette was always ready and willing to entertain and enliven what otherwise would have been dull hours of camp life. Miller Briggs was a knight of the bow, and he could make the “old campaign fiddle” talk, sing, weep or shout, as occasion required or his fancy dictated. Al. Ashley was always ready to make a speech, play a game of euchre, go on guard or go into a fight. Pearly Haven was born with a thirst that water had no power to quench. Pearly was always weak when near anything strong.

Edward H. Rennis went to “his own place” when he went into the cook-house. His boiled dinners and his baked beans remain as things joyfully to be remembered. Few were the cooks who could deal out better rations than Rennis.

Die Mason, while a good company clerk, would stand before a heated stove and burn the whole front of his uniform, absolutely oblivious of what was going on. In the battle of Goldsboro, he filled his musket with cartridges from breech to muzzle and returned to Newbern with it full. When apprised of the fact, he simply said, “I marched two hundred miles to snap at the rebels.”

Corp. Thomas Gurney was a most painstaking and accurate diarist. Benjamin H. Bearse could roast a fowl or a pig to perfection. John Boyce was so squint-eyed that he could see “the rebels” on either flank and in front of him. Henry Cook, notwithstanding he had lost his voice, would not ask to be discharged, whispering, “If I cannot speak with my voice, I can speak to the rebels with my musket.” John Drayton could provide fun for the whole company. Herculese Dean was the staid gentleman; Timothy French the man of affairs. Bradford G. Hathaway was known as the “big man with curly hair.” Daniel L. Hathaway would not shake hands with a rebel prisoner, who, recognizing him as a fellow workman in the Live Oak Swamps, extended his hand. Dan declared he never would shake hands with a d——d rebel.

Shubael G. Howland will be remembered as the man who carried six rebel muskets seventy miles on his shoulder and sent them home to make sure that the rebels would never get them again.

Aaron D. Hathaway could bring a mule team out of the mud when every one else had given up in despair. He performed this feat by pushing the mules’ heads under the mud and keeping them there until they were glad to jump out to breathe.

Alamanzer Osborne had queer notions about sardines.

Isaiah Stetson could scent a battle afar off.

James H. Petty, while never perfect in the manual of arms on dress parade, in battle could shoot as straight as any one. He was never known to fall out on the march because of sore feet and was in his glory when in a battle.

Jacob P. Hill was known as “the tall man;” William T. Marston as the man who grew so corpulent that Uncle Sam had no uniform that would fit him. Francis Briggs, when “in trim,” could outrun any deer and yell louder than an Ute Indian. Horatio N. Hood never got stuck in the mud with his team.

The first night in Camp Joe Hooker was a sweater to many, a conundrum to a few, and a go-as-you-please to all. Every one kept good-natured for the most pessimistic knew that all things that have a beginning have an end; and so it came to pass that, before reveille, the silence was broken only by the tremendous snoring of the tired merrymakers.

The first day in camp was one of laborious duty. How many tons of stones were buried by Company A no one will ever know, for it is safe to say no one will ever resurrect them; but when the job was completed Company A had as level and as smooth a street as any company in camp. Some amusing things occurred on the guard line. Some of the officers detailed for guard duty would give one set of orders and some another set, and it was hard for the guards to tell which was right and which was wrong. Some of the guards would not be relieved at “arms aport” but would persist in standing at a “charge.” One such was left to enjoy his “charge bayonet” until the next relief: the two hours taught him a lesson which he never forgot. Occasionally some of the guards would fix their muskets firmly in the ground, and, putting coat and hat on the same, go off on a “lark,” returning in time to come in with the relief; but such things were not considered as a grave offense, since we were not mustered into service.

In a few days an inspecting officer came and we were mustered into the service of Uncle Sam. Soon we were uniformed and began the role of soldiers. It took us less time to get used to our rations than to get used to our beds, which at that time consisted of the soft side of a hemlock board, quite different from those beds we had left at our homes.

One afternoon just after recall the boys took umbrage at something the sutler had said or done, and, magic-like, the two regiments in camp gathered with the avowed purpose of demolishing his place of business. I waited with bated breath to see what a few officers would do with two thousand enraged men. Just at the critical moment I saw the stalwart form of Colonel Richmond standing on a box, and with a voice like that “of many waters” and of mighty thunders, he proclaimed, “There will be a roll call in each company’s barracks within five minutes and every one not present will be marked.” Company A was in line in less than two minutes. The roll was called and every member answered “Here.” That little incident has always remained with me as an exhibition of the ready wit and good sense of our beloved Col. S. P. Richmond.

Our stay in camp was of short duration for we were wanted for active service and were ordered to prepare for the South Land. The morning of our last day in camp brought many of the wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, and sweethearts to say the last good-bye to the boys who were to defend the Old Flag on southern battlefields. Alas! that some of the boys who marched away that day, suppressing their tears in a manly way, were never again to look on the dear faces which tearfully said good-bye, silently praying God that they might return again to the old home and to their loved ones.

At Lakeville station we took the train for Boston, where we received an ovation through the city. The right wing of the regiment was assigned to the Mississippi, the left wing went on board the Merrimac. The bell rang, the whistle sounded, and we found ourselves going down the river, our destination being Newbern, N. C. With the exception of nearly running down two schooners and breaking our foreyard arm into three pieces in contact with a vessel going through the “Narrows,” our voyage was uneventful. Company A did her full share of duty, notwithstanding that the rough water in Boston Bay gave to many of the boys all the business they could manage on their own private account.

Our ship, after rounding Cape Cod, anchored in Vineyard Haven. Seeing our consort pass in the early dawn of the following morning, we prepared to follow, and, just as the steam was applied, a large schooner came across our bow. The engines were reversed and we barely escaped a collision. Captain Baxter hailed with this sarcastic remark, “I believe some captains would run all night for the sake of running across a ship’s bow and being run down.” When we overtook the Merrimac we were hailed with, “How did you break your foreyard arm?” and Captain Baxter replied, “Carrying sail, sir.”

Our run to North Carolina was over a sea as smooth as a mill-pond. The voyage could have been made in safety in a canoe; but when within five miles of the harbor, we encountered a southeast gale, which drove thousands of porpoises into the harbor. Our pilot, either through ignorance or carelessness, ran our ship upon the bar. I was standing beside the Captain when the thing happened, and Captain Baxter, quietly drawing his revolver and placing it close to the pilot’s head, soberly remarked: “I have a good mind to put a little light into your stupid rebel brain.” I need not tell you that that pilot trembled like a whipped dog. With the rising tide and the assistance of a tug, we were soon off the bar; and, as we headed for the wharf, I heard Captain Baxter say, “I did not care half as much for getting stuck on that bar, as I do for having the captain of the Merrimac get alongside the wharf before the Mississippi, for I shall never hear the last of it.” At Morehead City we took train for Newbern and camped on the banks of the Neuse River. Here for the first time, we were drilled in the evolutions of the brigade, preparatory to going on the march and into battle.

After a few days of camp life, Company A and Company B were detailed for picket duty at Newport Barracks, one mile distant from Newport City, which consisted of three houses, two barns and a five-by-ten store. Newport City was the trading mart for that section, and many times have I seen a barrel of pitch sold for thirty dollars and a barrel of tar sold for twenty dollars.

Our camp consisted of two companies of infantry, a battery of four guns and a platoon of cavalry. A detail from Company A went every day to a post called Havelock, and the boys from there kept the company well supplied with fresh beef and pork. One night one of Company A being on picket, thought he saw some one stealthily approaching the post. “Who goes there?” rang out on the still night. Receiving no answer, he fired. Alas! his aim was only too sure, for, on inspection, there in the throes of death lay a large black cow. I believe that was the only rebel that Company A ever roasted and ate.

Some of Company A will never forget David B. Hill and the hive of bees and honey he brought into camp one night. The following morning, when his namesake came to inquire after his missing hive, Dave met him on the parade ground, and, passing himself off as commandant of the camp, solemnly declared that he had no men who would be guilty of stealing; but said he: “If I find that one of my command has done so mean an act, I will have the offender punished severely.” This satisfied Mr. Hill, and he was never seen in camp after such positive assurance of the honesty of the soldiers.

Our first march taught Company A the superiority of army shoes over fashionable boots to march in, for the first ten miles found many of the men, as well as the officers, with their boots slung over their shoulders, their feet without stockings, and their heels raw to the quick. The lesson was never forgotten. At Peltier’s Mills the fortunate ones luxuriated on a supper of bread and bacon. The less fortunate were allowed to pass the night in a hog field, where the fleas were thicker than the stars in the “Milky Way.” “Pollocksville Express” marked another episode in our marching history, and we learned that being a soldier did not mean “flowery beds of ease.” Some of these marches were attended with rain, not like the gentle rains at the North, but downpours, mud ankle-deep, baggage wagons with the wheel-hubs rolling on the surface, horses balking, teamers saying everything but their prayers. But we were being hardened for more active and laborious service.

Our first real march began Dec. 11, 1862, at six A. M. In a dense fog our line was formed and soon the march began. There were twelve thousand, all told, infantry, artillery, and cavalry. These, with one hundred and sixty wagons occupied four miles, for we were moving in single column. Just at sunset our skirmishers captured one captain and two privates. This we believed to be a good omen, and some of the boys were heard to say, “We shall capture every rebel we find.” At eleven P. M. we stacked arms and laid down near them for the night; and no one had to resort to opiates to sleep. The next morning a sorer and more jaded set of men could not be found than Company A. Every belt, every strap had chafed to the quick, and water was not to be had to bathe the inflamed parts. But for all this, Company A did not flinch nor cry, “I have seen all the marching I want to see; I want to go home.”

The second day Company A, with the other companies of the Third, was detailed as baggage guard, and vigilantly did we perform our duty from early dawn to twelve at night, when we again halted and were allowed to sleep “on our arms.” We were getting into that part of the country where our enemy might pounce on us at any moment; and we soon learned that it was wiser to build no fires, than to illuminate the sky and thus show “the rebs” our position. As a little recompense for our hard march the previous day, we were allowed to kill quite a number of fat hogs; and in this, Company A was always ready and willing to do her full share.

I recall a little ruse I played on a soldier of a New York regiment. Finding a dead hog still warm, with its hams and shoulders gone, I determined to secure a piece to roast; but, to my chagrin, I found that I had left my knife in my haversack. Then came to me the old conundrum: If you had a bottle of water, how would you get the water without drawing the cork or breaking the bottle? and, knowing the answer, I said, “Push in the cork.” Then taking the initiative, I called to a soldier, saying, “I have a good fat hog here, and if you will loan me your knife to cut out a roast, I will give you all you want.” This he gladly did, so I got my pork and it made a fine roast.

Sunday, December 14th, at twelve o’clock, near Kinston, the Third Regiment went into her first real fight in North Carolina. Being the second regiment in the First Brigade, we had not long to wait before being ordered to take position on the opposite side of a swamp through which was a straight road with water a foot deep. The rebel batteries on the opposite side made it dangerous for passers that way; but through we went in good order. Then the rebels, learning that the Third with Company A were after them, limbered their guns and ran for their lives. Before going into battle, we saw the wounded brought past us, and further on we saw many a brave fellow lying dead at our feet; but each soldier was careful to step aside and not tread on our dead comrades. Our forces captured five hundred prisoners, nine guns which the rebels had spiked, and saved the beautiful and costly bridge over the Neuse River which the rebels had set on fire. The adjutant-general reports two hundred and ten killed and wounded; but to know, one had to see the dead on the field and in the wood, and the wounded in the old Baptist Church. Some were so severely wounded that they begged their officers to end their misery by a shot from a revolver. As Company A was marching past the prisoners, one was heard to say, “Oh! here goes the Third Massachusetts Regiment. They are all drafted men.” This was too much for Corp. Uriel Haskins, and, turning like an enraged lion, he said to the man, “Say that again and I will knock every tooth in your lying jaw down your throat.” The fellow did not repeat his words, for had he, Uriel would have been as good as his word. What a scene the Common presented the following morning. The nice rail fence had strangely disappeared. Beds, crockery, and even ladies’ silk dresses were strewed over the ground; and I suspect that many a fowl that went “crowing to bed” never saw the sun rise. The morning saw us again on the march. We were as glad to be gone as the people were to have us go; our blood was up and we were ready to go into another battle.

Our second battle at Whitehall was an artillery duel, forty battery guns being in action; and, although the Third did not take position on the field, the shot and shell from the rebel batteries were quite as thick as we cared to have them for comfort. Yet not a man of Company A was seen to dodge or try to gain cover. During the battle Colonel Richmond sat on his horse as calm and straight as if on inspection. I saw General Foster walking along the line of fire with the reins of his horse on his arm occasionally giving orders to the officers commanding the batteries. I saw the dead and wounded horses lying on the ground. I saw one batteryman load his gun with canister, and, aiming it at a tree in which were thirty sharpshooters doing deadly work, bring them down as apples fall to the ground; and they didn’t come down because they wanted to. But few of our soldiers were killed or wounded.

Again we proceeded on our march, and, after marching ten miles, we halted at six P. M. and prepared for the night. We were allowed to build fires, make coffee and enjoy a good warm supper. To reach and cut communications between Wilmington and Goldsboro was our objective point, so that the rebels could not send re-enforcements, while General Dix attacked the rebels at Blackwater.

December 16th we resumed our march, reaching Everettsville about twelve o’clock, where we encountered quite a strong picket force. These men escaping to the woods our batteries shelled the same. The Third Regiment was ordered to take position near the railroad and on a line parallel with it. Here we remained until an iron-clad car with a battery was demolished and the bridge across the river was fired. At one time I counted nine shells fusing within two hundred feet of Company A, yet no one sought shelter behind the many great stumps of trees where we were lying (according to orders) on the ground. The main army retiring, our brigade was ordered to remain on the field to make sure that no rebels would harass our rear.

After the demolition of the iron-clad, the Third Regiment was ordered to stack arms, overturn the railroad track and set the ties on fire. This was so expeditiously done that in half an hour the ties were on fire as far as one could see. A mill also did not escape the flames. During this time General Magruder, coming from Wilmington on the cars with ten thousand men and finding the railroad on fire, disembarked his men and batteries, and marched them to the scene of action, on a road parallel to the railroad and on the opposite side of it. We did not know this then as well as we did one hour later. The Third Regiment, having done as ordered, marched to the rear just over the brow of the rising ground. Hardly had we gained this position when we were told that the rebels were advancing with a flag of truce, and a battalion of cavalry went to receive it. When near the railroad, which was six feet high at this point, a brigade of rebel infantry fired a volley without hitting either man or horse. The cavalry returned the fire and then returned to cover.

At this time I was standing near Colonel Richmond and Captain Belger. The rebel brigade lost no time in getting over the railroad, and with charged bayonets they came up the slope on a double-quick. “Action front!” shouted Captain Belger, “Double canister! Load!” Never did soldiers present better alignment than that rebel brigade; but when they saw that Belger’s battery was supported by infantry, they made the fatal mistake of making a right half wheel. “Aim! fire!” commanded Captain Belger, when the rebel bayonets were not more than two hundred yards from his battery. As the battery sent forth its deadly contents great gaps were made in the rebel ranks. Three times the colors were shot down and three times they were raised; but the fourth time they remained on the ground for want of any one to raise them. Some fifty of the men who had taken refuge behind a stack of fodder were served with grape and solid shot. It took but a moment to send both stack and men flying towards the woods; fifty men becoming entangled by a fence were treated to spherical case, which bursting in their midst killed many of them.

During all this time the rebel batteries on the opposite side of the railroad were raining shot and shell at us, the most of which passed harmlessly over our heads, enough, however, falling short to give us a sprinkling of “the sacred soil” of the South. We were ordered to lie down, and this order was so effectively obeyed that no daylight could penetrate between us and “Mother Earth.” Looking to the left, I saw three other brigades approaching our left center. These were about one hundred yards in the rear of each other. The Twenty-seventh Regiment lay as quiet as death until the first brigade showed breast high, when rising they poured such a withering volley into the rebel ranks that those who could turned and ran, reaching the second brigade; that turned and ran; and these two brigades reaching the third brigade, that turned and ran. Neither Belger’s nor a thirty-two-pounder brass battery of six guns allowed them to run without helping them to run faster. Darkness drawing its mantle over the scene we were ordered to march back to the main army. The rebels left their dead and dying on the field.

The brook over which we had come dry shod was now a roaring torrent, and we, for the first time, saw the trap the rebels had set for us by opening the gate at the mill-pond. In their charge they no doubt expected to drive us into the brook, and there slaughter us at their own sweet will and pleasure; but we had punished them so severely that they thought it best to let the Yankees alone. But through the brook we had to go; and those who were sure-footed went, with the water up to their arm-pits. These, both officers and men, did heroic service in rescuing those who were carried down with the raging current. With all our cartridges wet and our clothing frozen, we had to stand and patiently wait for the whole brigade to cross the flood before we were ordered to march, and were only too glad when told that we would have to march several miles before we would bivouac for the night. Being ordered to build no fires, we stretched ourselves on the frozen ground, slept like tired, healthy children and arose at daylight, our clothes steaming, and commenced the weary homeward march.

No one but a soldier can tell how mean it makes one feel to be in an enemy’s country without ammunition to defend oneself with should an attack be made; but we neither saw nor heard any rebels on the homeward march. On this march Company A was three days without food. Toward evening of the third day, the writer, leaving the marching column, marched straight for a sweet potato mound, and, taking all he could carry, hastened to his company. This was no easy matter as the column was marching nearly as fast as himself. But fortune favoring the brave, he regained his place at dark. Nearly all the potatoes were divided among the boys, and I can say that the best thing I ever tasted in my life was a sweet potato, skin, dirt and all. After dark I secured two hogs’ heads, and these with the sweet potatoes made an excellent stew for several of the men, including the commissioned officers of Company A.

Nothing special occurred on our return march. The footsore boys left at Kinston were ready to resume the homeward march. The last night of the march we slept on the ground where the water in the ditches made ice one inch thick. As often as we awoke shivering with the cold, we would up and run until bodily heat would allow us to sleep again. We arrived in Newbern at 12.30, Dec. 21, 1862. Not long after our return, Company A with another company of the Third Regiment, were ordered on picket duty at Deep Gully, where the rebels had made an attack. Here we stayed two weeks, when we were relieved by the other companies sent from Newbern.

On Tuesday, Jan. 27, 1863, our regiment was moved from our first place of encampment to Fort Totten. Here we were protected by an embankment twelve feet high and forty feet wide at the base. Our marches from this place to various points, especially that to Swansboro over almost impassible roads, will never be forgotten by Company A. When, in the language of Colonel Richmond, “eight men make a company,” Company A was always sure to exceed that number, notwithstanding that the mud was so deep that we made but five miles in ten hours.

Wednesday, April 8th, we crossed the Neuse River and commenced our march to Blount’s Creek, where we encountered quite a body of the enemy; but after an artillery demonstration for one hour, both armies began a retreat at the same time, and neither knew why the other retreated, unless it be that the rebels caught sight of General Spinola (our commanding general) with his high red shirt collar, and, mistaking him for Sitting Bull, imagined retreat the better part of valor. I remember his saying to Colonel Richmond, “Colonel, your men stand as straight in battle as old veterans of the regular army.” In this battle Captain Belger had his horse shot from under him and he himself was badly wounded; but as he was being led past the Third, he said, “Give it to them, colonel, we will pay them for this.”

While the march to Blount’s Creek was a hard one, the going to Core Creek was as easy as a train of cars could make it. Here we stayed two days and took two hundred rebel prisoners. Two incidents still remain fresh in my memory: one was, that when going out, some break about the engine caused a stop and the engineer, finding it beyond his power to mend it, asked if there was any man on the cars who knew how to fix it up. Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a man stepped forward saying, “I guess I can fix this machine. I helped make it.” The other incident was that of a very young soldier, in fact, the youngest soldier I ever saw in the army. Speaking to me about the killed, he innocently said, “I think I killed one of them, for the hole in his head was made by a very small bullet, and you see I have a musket smaller than the others.”

Our last march was to Batchelder’s Creek, where the rebels attacked our men, and Colonel Jones, commanding the post, was killed. May 23, 1863, at eight P. M., we commenced our march and when within a safe distance, learning that the rebels were two brigades strong with a battery of six guns, we halted for the night. The following morning Company A was sent one mile in advance of the regiment, and the writer with six men was sent one mile in advance of the company. But at nine A. M., word being received that the rebels learning of our coming had politely retired, we were ordered to join our regiment. As I was sitting beside Captain Marble, Captain Hawes and Lieutenant Mason being present, Corp. Uriel Haskins came up, and, saluting Captain Marble, asked permission to go foraging, saying, “We have nothing to eat.” “No,” said Captain Marble with a frown, “Not one of you shall go. I brought a minister with me and when I want any stealing done I will send him. It is no harm for a minister to steal.”

The return march to Newbern was exceedingly hot and the road was so dusty that at times it seemed impossible to breathe. We reached our camp at one P. M., a tired, dust-covered and sweat-stained set of soldiers.

June 10, 1863, was our last day on southern soil. Several of the non-commissioned officers being on the sick list, I was ordered to act as orderly sergeant in detailing and marching the last detail from Company A to guard mount in North Carolina. And so I have this honor. The next morning found us on the train for Morehead City, where seven companies embarked on the steamer S. R. Spaulding. The other three companies went on board the steamer Tilley at Newbern.

Our passage home was for the most part of the voyage rough, so much so that a majority of both officers and men were seasick. One morning the adjutant of the regiment came to me and asked, “Will you take the guard to-day?” remarking at the same time, “I know you have done double duty, but the fact is, about all the officers are so seasick that they cannot take care of themselves, much less take charge of the guard.” My reply was, “Yes, adjutant, I will do it.” As I left Company A’s quarters, I heard several saying, “Is there anything that Corporal Gammons cannot and will not do, when emergency so requires?” and I remember answering, “It is a pretty poor soldier who would not prefer to do double duty than to be seasick.”

How good the shores of Cape Cod looked to us; even the sand on the tail-end of grand old Massachusetts looked far more glorious to us than all the magnolia swamps of North Carolina; and the surf, as it broke on the beach, seemed to say, “This is the land of the free, the loyal, the brave North.”

Tuesday, June 16, 1863, we again marched the streets of Boston with the glad consciousness of having done our duty as soldiers when our services were needed. We had proved ourselves worthy of the country of which we were citizens, and of the Old Flag we had defended; and of our record we were not a little proud.

Our march through Boston was one continued ovation from the start to finish. Often we heard the people saying, “This is the Old Third Regiment;” and from doors, balconies, and windows came the glad “Welcome home again to our brave Massachusetts soldiers.” Many times our ranks were broken by the hand-shaking of fathers, the embraces of mothers, and the kisses of sweethearts. And because the officers were equally served with the rank and file, no one said anything about perfect alignment or perfect marching. To be home again and see our own, who had come fifty miles to welcome home the war-stained boys, who had served nine months in Uncle Sam’s army, correcting their mistaken and misled brothers, was more than anything else, more than everything else.

On all the marches, both trying and dangerous, in battle, on picket and guard duty, Company A acted the part of brave, true and patriotic soldiers; worthy the name of “sons of noble sires” and of the grand old State of Massachusetts; and with the other companies of the Old Third Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteer Militia, takes its place on the roll of honor. I do not recall of one instance of a member of Company A being punished for disobedience to orders, overstaying a pass, “standing on a barrel,” “riding the wooden horse,” or “carrying dirt on their heads in a mess pan.” Company A escaped all such punishment for two reasons; first, because the men willed to be soldiers; and second, the officers knew how to use men.

After the close of the war Company A continued its organization and was well uniformed, well officered, and well drilled until July 6, 1876, when by order of Governor Rice, it was disbanded to reduce the expenses of the volunteer militia of the State, the six companies being reduced to two, those of Brockton and Plymouth remaining.

Company A, which was usually full, has been commanded since the close of the war by Capt. Cephus Washburn, of Halifax; Capt. Charles P. Lyon, of Halifax; Capt. Morton V. Bonney, of West Hanover; and Capt. George H. Bonney, of Kingston. These men are still alive and are honored and beloved by all their fellow-citizens.

A Corrected Roster of Company A, Living and Dead, to October 1, 1903.

*John W. Marble, Captain; Freetown; 36. For many years foreman of Anthony and Swift’s Slaughter House, Assonet. Ex-member of Legislature. A man of staunch qualities. Died June 18, 1900.

*Charles P. Lyon, First Lieutenant; Halifax; 36. A great admirer of and worker for the interests of Company A; has held nearly every office in the company from corporal to captain. He rendered such timely assistance to Captain Harlow in notifying the members of the company to report on Boston Common, that, notwithstanding the order was received at night, the following morning saw Halifax “Minute Men” on the early train armed and equipped, according to the call of the “War Governor” and President Lincoln, with every man present. For years after the war he served as captain of the company. His town honored him and itself in sending him to the Legislature, where his voice and his vote was always on the right side. By trade a bootmaker, his work stood first-class. Born and always residing in Halifax, he has always enjoyed the confidence and good-will of his fellow-citizens; and now in the sunshine of a grand and fully rounded out life, he awaits orders to the higher and better life, honored and loved by all his associates, including every member of Company A.

*Nathaniel Morton, Second Lieutenant; Halifax; 21. The gentleman, the scholar, the officer, the soldier, “The modest man,” who proudly wears the “Minute Men’s Medal,” presented to him by the commonwealth for meritorious service. He participated in the burning of Gosport Navy Yard and assisted Captain Lyon in recruiting the company in 1862. Has held all the higher offices in the towns of Halifax and Pembroke for the last twenty-seven years; prominent in probate business; honored and respected by his townsmen. He resides in Bryantville, Mass., where, with his accomplished wife, he cordially welcomes all his friends.

*James H. Hathaway, First Sergeant; Freetown; 25. Mustered out with regiment. For many years foreman in factory at Walpole, Mass. Employee Consolidated Railroad. Resides at East Walpole, Mass.

*William A. Lyon, Sergeant; Halifax; 25. Respected and beloved by the whole company. For several years an employee of the Old Colony Railroad. Killed by the cars. A widow living.

Stephen Hathaway, Sergeant; Freetown; 24. Died in Illinois. Widow, son, and daughter.

*Morton V. Bonney, Sergeant; Hanson; 21. A leading business man in his town. Ex-member of Legislature, trusted and honored by his fellow-citizens; an influential member of the Third Regiment Association. Resides at West Hanover, Mass.

*Frederick Thayer, Ordnance Sergeant; Freetown; 22. A boss workman in Mason’s Machine Shop, Taunton. In Soldiers Home, Togus, Maine.

*Uriel Haskins, Corporal; Freetown; 19; tack-maker. Ex-member of City Government; honored by all his associates. Resides in Taunton, Mass.

Ephraim H. Haskins, Corporal; Freetown; 18. He enlisted in Fifty-eighth Massachusetts Infantry; commissioned second lieutenant in same. Killed at battle of Weldon Railroad, Sept. 30, 1864. Widow and one daughter.

Thomas Gurney, Corporal; Hanson; 28. He enlisted in the Fifty-eighth Massachusetts Volunteers; mustered out at close of war. A successful merchant; member of school board. Past Master of Atlantic Lodge, A. F. & A. M. A man of sterling worth.

James E. Arnold, Corporal; Berkley; 29. A good, faithful soldier, a zealous patriot. Nothing of his history since the war known.

Soranus Thompson, Corporal; Hanson; 25. Died and was buried with G. A. R. honors at Brockton, Mass. Left a family.

*William W. Hood, Corporal; Hanson; 28. Discharged for disability, April 22, 1863. Boot and shoemaker. An honest and respected citizen. Member of Post No. 127. G. A. R. Has a family. Resides in Hanson, Mass.

*David B. Hill, Corporal; Freetown; 26. A genius, a good soldier, an aspirant for shoulder straps. Was a member of Company G, Freetown “Minute Men,” Third Regiment, three months’ men, and was corporal of the guard in Virginia, when the first three slaves coming into our lines were declared “contraband of war” by Gen. Benjamin Butler.

John G. Gammons, Corporal; Westport; 26. Recruiting officer for Fifty-eighth Regiment. Re-enlisted in Company F, Third Massachusetts Heavy Artillery. (Sergeant.) Commissioned second lieutenant in Fifty-eighth Regiment (never mustered). Commissioned second lieutenant in Eighteenth Unattached Company Massachusetts Volunteers. Mustered out at close of war. Taught military school one year. Graduated from Taylor University, receiving degree of Ph. D. Pastor of several Methodist Episcopal churches; president of several corporations; writer of local histories; pastor of Arnold’s Mills Methodist Episcopal Church. Resides at Arnold’s Mills, R. I.

*Asa Kilbreth, Musician; Pembroke; 62. A splendid musician; a great friend of all the boys; never “fell out on the march.” Respected by his townsmen. Died and buried at Pembroke, Mass. Left a widow and son.

John G. Bonney, Drummer; Pembroke; 29. Punctual to duty. A favorite of the company, and highly respected by his fellow-citizens. Died at Pembroke, Mass. Left a widow and daughter.

Horatio N. Hood, Wagoner; Hanson; 30. Never got stuck in the mud; was proud of his team, using his horses with humanitarian consideration. Died at Greene, Maine, April 15, 1900. Buried in Maine. Left widow and four sons.

Privates.

Anthoney, Nicholas B., Westport; 40. First officer of ship. A man of high moral character, a true soldier and a respected citizen. Died at Westport, Mass., 1868. Two daughters living.

Ashley, Albert B., Freetown; 24. A natural orator, with great magnetic powers. Shipped in United States Navy May, 1861. Served on United States Frigate Mississippi, Gulf Squadron, Lieutenant Dewey (now Rear Admiral), executive officer. Participated in capture of New Orleans. Discharged from Navy, June, 1862. Enlisted in Company A, Third Massachusetts Volunteer Militia. Mustered out with regiment. Re-enlisted. Orderly sergeant, Company B, Fourth Massachusetts Cavalry from August, 1863, to March, 1865. Commissioned lieutenant in Twenty-first United States Colored Troops, March, 1865. Mustered out May, 1866. Went West, 1869. Manager of several coal mines and coal companies for twenty-two years. Grand Lecturer, State of Illinois, for sixteen years. Owner and manager of Ashley Heights since 1892. A man of wealth and influence. Popular with the mystic orders. Post Office (Summers). Ashley Heights, Lake Huron, Mich. (Winters), La Grange, Ill.

Beal, Bernard C., Hanson; 29. A man of noble character. Chairman of Selectmen. For many years quartermaster of Post No. 127, G. A. R. Farmer and poultry raiser.

Bearse, Benjamin H., Hanson; 40. A giant in stature, large-hearted, a favorite of all the company, respected by all his fellow-citizens. Died at South Hanson, Feb. 12, 1903. Widow and son.

Bonney, Allen F., Hanover; 42. A man of noble character. Died at West Hanover, July 5, 1885. Buried at Hanover. Widow and daughter.

Bourne, Thomas W., Hanson; 28. An esteemed citizen. Farmer and road builder. Post Office, South Hanson, Mass.

Boyce, John, Berkley; 42. A man of strong moral character. A pronounced Prohibitionist. Respected by his townsmen. Died at Berkley April 9, 1893. Buried at Assonet, Mass. Several children living.

Briggs, Francis G., Freetown; 25. A hustler. Lived in Assonet. Wife, two sons and two daughters. A gentleman of leisure. Died in Assonet, July 27, 1905, age, sixty-eight years.

Briggs, Seth M., Hanson; 25. An excellent violinist. Printer, Town Auditor. A grand good fellow, highly esteemed by his many friends. Member of T. L. Bonney Post, G. A. R. Resides at South Hanson, Mass.

Broadbent, Samuel S., Westport; 18. A ready speaker. Member of G. A. R. Janitor of school building in New Bedford, Mass. Resides in New Bedford, Mass.

Brooks, Thomas J., Westport; 39. A faithful soldier. Nothing of his history known since the close of the war.

Burgess, Theophilus J., Rochester; 23. History since muster out unknown.

Chace, Franklin J., Freetown; 18; Remembered as a faithful soldier. History since war unknown.

Chipman, Sumner J., Freetown; 21. Resides in Pelham, N. H. No family.

Cook, Henry, Hanson; 34. A man of sound principles. Member of G. A. R. Retired. Post office, Plymouth, Mass. Has a family.

Dean, Hercules, Berkley; 27. A gentleman and soldier. Strong temperance man. Respected by his many friends. Died Oct. 21, 1890. One daughter, postmistress, Assonet, Mass.

Drayton, John, Hanson; 40. An agreeable comrade, a ready wit, full of mirthfulness. An esteemed citizen, beloved by a large circle of friends. Died at South Hanson May 11, 1898. Widow and children.

Drew, George, 3d, Halifax; 21. Re-enlisted. Killed in battle. A good brave soldier.

Duffee, George, Freetown; 21. A good honest man, a faithful soldier. Employed in Census Bureau, Washington. Resides in Washington, D. C.

Foster, Calvin, Pembroke; 37. Reported living at Pembroke. Has a family. Remembered as a faithful soldier, ready and willing to do every duty assigned him.

French, Timothy E., Berkley; 34. A man of strong moral character with pronounced temperance principles. No storm was cold enough, no rain wet enough, no march so exhausting that cold water was not the most refreshing beverage for him. Died in Berkley, Mass., Dec. 7, 1899.

*Fuller, Eldridge G., Hanson; 41. A “good soldier.” Died October, 1867.

Fuller, Frederick E., Halifax; 18. Died in Newbern, N. C., Dec. 1, 1862. This being the first death in Company A and Fred being so young, it made a lasting impression on the company. We buried him under a tree near our camp.

Hambley, Andrew T., Freetown; 21. Died March 10, 1892.

Hathaway, Aaron D., Freetown; 19. A successful lumber dealer in the west. Acquired wealth. Died in California in 1900.

Hathaway, Andrew J., Freetown; 21. Died at Dighton, Mass., June 15, 1903. Widow, son, and daughter living.

Hathaway, Bradford G., Berkley; 39. For many years on the police force in Providence, R. I. A farmer and poultry fancier. Died in Berkley, March 30, 1887.

Hathaway, Daniel L., Berkley; 30. As brave a soldier as ever fought in battle. Died in Taunton, Mass. Left several children.

Hathaway, Lynde, Freetown; 43. A faithful, bold and true soldier. Died at Assonet, Mass., Jan. 22, 1887. Sons and daughters living.

*Haskell, James H., Freetown; 28. Died Sept. 10, 1880.

Haskell, Otis, Lakeville; 33. A soldier true to orders. Lives in Taunton, Mass. Several children living.

*Haskins, George H., Freetown; 38. A good soldier; an honest farmer. Resides in Freetown, Mass.

Haven, Perley, Halifax; 25. Farmer. Resides at Thomastown. Post office, Middleboro, Mass.

Hayward, Luther W., Halifax; 23. Died at Halifax, July 6, 1863. Buried at Hanson, Mass. Unmarried.

Hayward, Lysander W., Halifax; 18. A brave soldier, a trusted citizen. Farmer and coal dealer. Has a family. Post office, Halifax, Mass.

Hill, Jacob P., Hanson; 39. One of the “Minute Men” of 1861, known in Company A as the “tall man on the right.” A genial comrade and companion. Member of A. C. Monroe Post, No. 212, G. A. R. Died suddenly at his home in East Bridgewater, Aug. 9, 1903. Left a family. Buried with military honors at East Bridgewater, Mass.

Holmes, Martin L., Halifax; 18. Boot and shoemaker. An honored citizen, industrious and frugal. Has a wife. Post office, Rockland, Mass.

Horr, Andrew J., Freetown; 26. Lives in East Freetown. Farmer. Widower. One daughter.

Howland, Alonzo; Hanover; 23. Boot and shoemaker. Respected by his many friends. Member of Post 74, G. A. R. Post office, Rockland, Mass. Wife and four children.

Howland, Shubael G., Freetown; 44. A man of strong will powers, of great endurance; respected by his townsmen. Died in 1901. A widow living.

Keen, Thatcher, Hanson; 23. He never disappointed his friends nor helped his enemies. A worthy citizen. Died at Abington, Mass., June 3, 1868. Buried at Rockland, Mass.

Lambert, Francis M., Bridgewater; 24. Discharged for disability. May 27, 1863. Died in Brockton. Mass., Nov. 6, 1864.

Lambert, Zaccheus, Bridgewater; 40. Discharged for disability, May 27, 1863. Died at Brockton, Mass., Nov. 1, 1882.

*Marston, William T., Halifax; 27. Discharged for disability, May 27, 1863. A good, faithful soldier. Reported living in Bridgewater, Mass.

Mason, Darius B., Pembroke; 26. Company clerk, mirthful and sunny, ready to go anywhere and do anything ordered to do. A good citizen. Died and buried in Whitman, Mass. Widow and son living.

Murtaugh, Thomas W., Freetown; 24. A faithful and true soldier. Superintendent of the culinary department in Fall River Hospital. Resides in Fall River, Mass. Son and daughter.

Niles, Truman E., Hanover; 35. A good soldier and honored citizen. Died in Middleboro, Mass., Oct. 31, 1902. Widow and children living.

Osborne, Alamanzer, Bridgewater; 21. A faithful soldier, a respected citizen, a successful trader. Resides in Brockton, Mass. Member of Post No. 13, G. A. R. Has a family.

Packard, Horace F., Halifax; 20. A soldier “who needeth not to be ashamed.” Resides in Brockton, Mass.

Paine, George A., Freetown; 28. A man of splendid habits, a true soldier. Died about 1873. Widow, son, and daughter living.

Perry, Marcus T., Pembroke; 32. Died in South Hanson, Oct. 24, 1894. Buried in Pembroke, Mass. Left widow and daughter.

Peterson, Algeron A., Hanson; 30. Migrated west. Present history unknown.

Petty, James H., Westport; 52. A soldier who never feared to go into a battle and never fell out on the march. Died in Westport, Mass., Aug. 2, 1893. Four sons and one daughter living.

Phillips, Samuel W., Berkley; 41. Never was known to shirk duty. Died in Taunton Insane Asylum, April 1, 1899.

Porter, Oliver C., Halifax; 35. A good all-round soldier. Died Feb. 18, 1873. Buried in Halifax, Mass.

Record, Charles, Berkley; 22. A faithful soldier. Veterinary Surgeon. Excellent character. Resides in Fall River, Mass.

Rennis, Edwin H., Freetown. A most excellent company cook, a brave man in battle, a good citizen. Died in Dartmouth, Mass., about 1885. A widow living.

Richmond, Joseph S. W., Halifax; 18. Died —.

Rounseville, Edwin S., Freetown; 24. A faithful soldier; a thrifty farmer. Resides in Freetown. Has a wife and daughter.

Rounseville, Simon D., Freetown; 24. Died in Freetown on returning from the war, June 20, 1863. Buried with military honors.

Sampson, Augustus M., Hanson; 36. A brave soldier. A clean cut temperance man and a highly respected citizen. A boot and shoemaker.

Soule, Charles W., Halifax; 18. Died in Hospital, Newbern, Dec. 2, 1862. Buried near our camp. Body sent home and buried in family cemetery.

Spooner, Asa J., Freetown; 30. Was mustered in, went home sick and never reported to the company for duty. Lives in East Freetown, Mass.

Stetson, Charles H., Hanson; 20. Discharged for disability, March 27, 1863. Superintendent of almshouse. Member of Post No. 127, G. A. R. Post office, South Hanson, Mass.

Stetson, Isaiah, Hanson; 44. Died in Hanson, September, 1889. Left a family.

*Stetson, William F., Hanson; 30. Discharged for disability, March 13, 1863. Dealer in stoves, etc. Son and four daughters. Post office, West Hanson, Mass.

Stowell, Richard P., New Bedford; 18. Lives in New Bedford, Mass.

Studley, Judson, Hanover; 31. Farmer and poultry raiser. An honored citizen. Has a family. Post office, West Hanover, Mass.

Thayer, Charles H., Kingston; 18. A good soldier. Believed to have died fifteen years ago.

Thompson, James H., Kingston; 25. A good soldier and a good citizen. Died, leaving a family.

Thompson, Morton, Halifax; 18. Teacher. Died in Halifax, Mass. Left a family.

Torrey, Leander, Hanover; 24. Faithful to every duty, a true and staunch patriot, respected wherever known. Died at Rockland, Mass., April 8, 1879. A widow, son, and daughter living at Brockton, Mass.

Vinal, Joseph, Hanover; 37. Farmer. A good, quiet citizen. Wife and children. Post office, West Hanson, Mass.

Whitney, Abel H., Hanover; 19. Died in West Hanover, July 19, 1863. Buried in Hanover. Unmarried.

Whitney, Charles T., Halifax; 27. Discharged for disability, March 4, 1863. Boot and shoemaker. A respected citizen. Has a family. Post office, Halifax, Mass.

Whitney, Oren T., Hanover; 28. Re-enlisted in Company E, First Battalion, Heavy Artillery. Mustered out at close of war. Farmer and wood dealer. Past Commander Post No. 83, G. A. R. Post office, West Hanover, Mass.

Wilcox, George F., Freetown; 20. As good a soldier as ever marched with a company. Died in Providence, R. I., February, 1897. Widow living.

Wilcox, Marcenah B., Freetown; 18. A good soldier and a successful business man. Married. Lives in New York.

*Winslow, Benedict A., Freetown; 19. For many years ticket agent, Old Colony Railroad. Lighthouse keeper. Cook in City Hospital, Fall River, Mass.

Wood, Cyrus, Halifax; 40. Died and was buried in Halifax. One son living.