The Regiment Leaves Newport News—Ordered to Fredericksburg—Battle of Centreville—A Drill in the Face of the Enemy—March Through Maryland—Battles of South Mountain and Antietam—The Song of the Dying Soldier—A List of the Killed and Wounded.

During the latter part of August, 1862, Sumner’s corps began to leave Newport News and proceed to Fredericksburg. On the 24th, the Irish Brigade broke camp, went on board the steamer “Commodore,” and after lying off Newport News about forty-eight hours, steamed down the James, and from thence to Aquia Creek Landing, on the Potomac, where it disembarked. On the 27th, it proceeded by rail to Fredericksburg, and went into camp with its division on the north bank of the Rappahannock. Fredericksburg was then a beautiful town, showing none of those distressing signs of war which marked many other portions of Virginia. The recent showers had imparted an emerald hue to the whole country; the gardens about the town—which stands on a high bluff on the south side of the stream—were filled with blooming plants and trees laden with luscious fruits. Such a scene of peace and plenty as this the sunburnt and destitute soldiers of the Peninsula had not feasted their eyes upon for many months; the place seemed to them like a real Eden, into which they had suddenly and unexpectedly been dropped.

“It is rumored that we are to stay here during the remainder of the season,” says a soldier of the Twenty-ninth, in a letter to his friends, little dreaming how soon they were to leave this quiet spot and endure the hardships of another campaign. “It is rumored” was the familiar and stereotyped language with which all false camp stories commenced; and as they generally promised some better or happier experience than that of the present, none labored to dispel the pleasing illusions which they created, though these were repeatedly swept away by sad and bitter events. The soldier alluded to had barely finished his letter before the order came to march. Tents were struck, rations issued, and the men turned their backs on the green hills of Fredericksburg, never again to look upon the town in beauty and tranquillity. Going to the railway station, the Brigade took the cars and returned to Aquia Creek Landing, there embarking on the steamer “Louisiana” for Alexandria, arriving at the latter place on the evening of the 28th. The troops did not land here until the morning of the 29th; and as soon as they touched the shore, marched out to Camp California, about ten miles up the river toward Washington, pausing for dinner. On this march occurred a humorous incident. The Irish Brigade, in moving along the road with its tattered flags, the clothing of its men being almost as ragged as its banners, had occasion to pass the camp of a recently-mustered Pennsylvania regiment. The great contrast between the bright, new uniforms of the Pennsylvania troops and the shabby ones of the war-worn Brigade, led to much bantering, and many severe things were said by both sides. Finally, a soldier of the Pennsylvania regiment, with stentorian voice and in a triumphant manner, bawled out, “What have you done with your knapsacks; thrown ’em away, haint you?” The men of the Brigade were without knapsacks, and this impudent inquiry seemed difficult to answer satisfactorily. Very promptly, however, one of the soldiers of the Twenty-ninth replied, “Thrown ’em away? Yes, —— you, we’ve thrown away four sets.” This left the victory with the Brigade, and stopped the jangle; for it was an indirect way of saying what could not be denied, that the Brigade was composed of veterans, while the Pennsylvanians had not been long enough in the service to part with even one set of knapsacks, and were therefore very green. The four regiments of the Brigade went into camp that night at Arlington Heights.

General Pope was calling loudly for re-enforcements during these gloomy days, and the Army of the Potomac, the bulk of which was in and about Alexandria, had been ordered forward by General Halleck. Generals Sumner and Franklin were directed to make rapid marches to join Pope. On the morning of the 30th, the Irish Brigade marched, halting for a few hours at Fort Corcoran, only three miles distant from Arlington. As again showing the utter ignorance of the men of the intended movements of the army, and of the experiences in store for them, the brief halt at this fort led to a rumor that the regiment was to stay there for a period of thirty days to recruit; and so thoroughly believed was this report, that some of the men went leisurely at work “doing their washing,” so that at about three o’clock in the afternoon, when the order to march came, more than one soldier, half stripped, had nearly all his clothes “in the wash,” and one unfortunate corporal, who had taken a notion to wash both shirt and trousers, was called away so suddenly, that he was obliged to march all night in his drawers and a thin blouse, carrying his wet garments with him. Even the commanding officer of the regiment, who for the first time in many months was contemplating “a square meal,” was so much surprised by the order to move, that he was obliged to quit, leaving his dinner boiling in the pot and two live geese tied behind his tent, having made elaborate preparations for a long stay.

The regiment reached a point about two miles beyond Fairfax Court-house that night, halting beside the road leading to Centreville. Long before reaching here, the noise of the battle of the Second Bull Run was distinctly heard.

August 31, the march was resumed early in the morning, the Brigade reaching Centreville about noon, joining the other troops of General Sumner’s corps, and taking its place in the line. Soon after, the whole corps moved up and took the front line of the army, notwithstanding the fact that the men were nearly destitute of ammunition.

The remains of General Pope’s army had fallen back to this place in a disorganized condition, and on the following day commenced to retreat toward Washington, Sumner and Franklin protecting their rear. Here our comrades of the Twenty-ninth, who were stationed on a high hill, that afforded them an extended view of the country, witnessed another wholesale destruction of stores and supplies. It was not an exact repetition of Savage’s Station, yet so closely resembled it, as to make the sight a familiar one, and call up in their minds many recollections of the retreat from Richmond.

During the afternoon of September 1, General Sumner’s corps were the only Union troops that remained on the field. The enemy were close at hand, the Fifth New Hampshire, indeed, being at that moment skirmishing with them only a few hundred yards from the main body of our troops. The order for the corps to fall back had been given; but the brave old commander was in no haste about it, and for the purpose of inspiring his men with confidence, and teaching them habits of coolness, he caused the various divisions to execute the order (to fall back) by the regular tactic formations. The ground chanced to be favorable for this plan. The veteran General sat upon his horse in the midst of his troops, giving his commands in a cool and deliberate manner, that excited the admiration of his soldiers. It was altogether a novel scene,—an army on drill in the face of the enemy; the various movements were skilfully performed, and were so planned as always to keep one of the divisions in line of battle facing the enemy, and covering the other troops in the rear. All the while these evolutions were going on,—which occupied some hours,—the corps was slowly retiring.

It was late in the night before the Brigade commenced to fall back toward Washington. Earlier in the evening, the enemy, under A. P. Hill and Jackson, had attacked a portion of our retreating column; and while the contest was raging fiercely, a violent tempest arose, “the artillery of earth meeting with a response in the still heavier thunder of the skies.” This was a repetition of another of the events at Savage’s Station, as was also the gloomy, comfortless night and the hardly less gloomy march that followed. While on the march that night, a long ambulance train, filled with wounded, moved along over the road, and in halting to give the train an opportunity to pass, the regiment became divided, nearly an hour elapsing before the two portions managed to unite.

On Tuesday morning, September 2, the Brigade halted two miles west of Fairfax Court-house. The regiment was here thrown out in the rear as skirmishers, and were shortly after attacked by the Confederate cavalry. Pettit’s battery, being in position near them, fired a few shots at the enemy, and put him to flight. At three o’clock in the afternoon the regiment was relieved, and at five o’clock marched with the Brigade to Fall’s Church, and from there to Langley’s, reaching the latter place during the night. The distance marched this day was not far from eighteen miles, and proved to be so severe a strain upon the already overtaxed men, that many were unable to keep up, and not a few were made dangerously sick, Lieutenant Hathaway of Company C falling senseless by the way and never afterward being able to rejoin his command.

On the afternoon of the 2d, the Brigade passed the Potomac on Chain Bridge, marched through Georgetown, and from there to Tenallytown, about six miles from Washington. This was a pleasant little village. The men had a good, clean camping-ground, but no tents. The absence of tents, however, had ceased to be counted as a discomfort. The soldiers had long been in that state of mind which caused them to look upon a green pasture or field with feelings of supreme contentment. The Brigade remained in Tenallytown till Friday the 5th, and then went to Rockville, nine miles distant. The men were compelled to march in the fields, General Banks’s corps, the artillery, and trains taking the road. On the 6th, Sumner’s corps passed through Rockville, and formed a line of battle two miles north of the town, with Banks’s corps on the left. There was some skirmishing during the day between the Union and Confederate cavalry. No further movement of importance was made until the 9th, and then the corps performed a distance of about ten miles, stopping for the night near Seneca Mills. The whole army was moving in the same direction, though by different roads.

The marches were not at this time very long nor forced; the country through which the army moved was very picturesque and fruitful; the fields were filled with corn, and from these the soldiers had many delicious meals,—roasting the milky corn, gathering peaches and apples from the well-laden orchards, and not seldom supping upon fresh pork (purchased of course of the country people).

The towns of Middlebrook, Clarksburg, and Hyattsville were successively passed on the journey between the 10th and 12th, at the latter place being only a few hours behind the rear guard of the enemy. On the 13th, our army marched through Frederick City, and were joyfully received by the people. Only three days before, the city had been occupied by the armies of Lee and Jackson; and notwithstanding the presence of the enemy, the loyal people avowed their sentiments with great freedom. It is reported that the pious General Jackson, while remaining in the city over Sunday of the 7th, attended divine services at the church of the Rev. Dr. Zacharias, and that the undaunted clergyman, in a firm voice, prayed for the President of the United States in the presence of the Confederate General. The treasonable proclamation of General Lee, issued about this time, met with a cold response; and although some recruits were obtained for his army, the majority of them shortly after deserted and returned to their homes. The ragged and filthy appearance of the Confederate soldiers, many of whom were barefooted, tended to disgust even the Secessionists (who had not sufficient moral courage to follow the fortunes of the brave soldiers of the South); and when the Southern army retired, and the Patriot army followed, all classes were about equally jubilant.

Upon leaving Frederick City, the Confederates retreated towards Sharpsburg. Twelve miles from Frederick City, and three from Middletown, is Turner’s Gap, through which runs the Middletown Road. This Gap is one of several passes in the South Mountains, here nearly one thousand feet high. At this place a large force of the enemy made a determined stand, and on the 14th, a desperate battle was fought, General Reno’s Ninth Army Corps being conspicuously engaged, and that gallant General losing his life. The battle resulted in a complete Union victory.

General Richardson’s division arrived at the base of the mountain at nine o’clock in the evening of this day, and the men slept on their arms all night. On the morning of the 15th, the division passed up the mountain, the Irish Brigade being in advance. The enemy had fled during the night, leaving their dead unburied and their wounded uncared for. The ground in many places was thickly strewn with the dead and wounded of both armies; one poor fellow (a Confederate) was still alive, having been shot through the head, the ball coming out at the eye. Thirty-four of the enemy’s dead were counted in one spot only a few rods square. The place where the Pennsylvania Reserves (“Bucktails”) charged up the precipitous mountain-side, bore sad evidence of the bloody character of the battle. The dead and mangled bodies of both friend and foe were in some places mingled together; the wounded, lying among rocks and deep thickets, were calling aloud to the passing soldiers for water and aid. The summit and westerly side of the mountain, down which the Confederates fled, gave proof of the extreme panic which seized them at the close of the battle; guns, blankets, and equipments were scattered about the ground in great profusion. It was very encouraging to our soldiers to witness these indications of the retreat of their valiant old enemy of the Peninsula, who, less than two months before, had put them in the same awkward plight, and caused them untold hardships.

On this day, the division of General Richardson, with the exception of a few cavalry, was in advance of the entire Union army. The other corps, except Franklin’s, followed towards the middle of the day. General Richardson came up with the enemy about three miles from Keedysville. The Confederates were posted on a number of wooded hills, little less than a mile from and on the southwest side of Antietam Creek; their lines extended across the Sharpsburg Road, their right resting on a creek only a mile from the Potomac River. General Richardson did not cross the creek, but took up a position on the easterly side. About three o’clock in the afternoon, other portions of the army came up; Pettit’s battery took ground on the hill where the Twenty-ninth was stationed, and shortly after, the battery was joined by two pieces of flying artillery, when matters became lively at once. The enemy had been amusing himself for some hours before, by shelling our unprotected lines. Our artillery at once answered his fire, Pettit’s battery especially making some most excellent shots, in one instance driving the Confederate gunners from their pieces. This artillery duel continued nearly the whole day; and at one time, towards the close, the division, in changing its position, became badly exposed to the enemy’s fire, but fortunately few lives were lost.

On the morning of the 16th, our army was well up towards the creek, with well-formed lines. Pettit’s battery was relieved in the forenoon by another of twelve 20-pounder Parrotts; and these our Brigade supported all day. The enemy had almost exact range of our position, but his shell not exploding, did little execution. There was, however, some loss, and Corporal Tribou of Company C (Twenty-ninth), who carried the State colors, was severely wounded, losing his left foot above the ankle.

While the exact nature of the situation was not known to any except the officers of high rank, yet, when the day closed, there was probably not a private soldier along the line who did not realize that the army was on the eve of one of the greatest battles of the war.

On the 17th of September, which was one of the many beautiful days of the early Southern autumn, was fought the renowned battle of Antietam. The preceding night had been devoted to watching, manoeuvring, and careful preparation by the commanders of both armies. Generals Hooker and Mansfield had crossed the creek with their respective corps during the night, bivouacking on the farm of J. Poffenberger, in the vicinity of the enemy’s left;34 and at daylight on the 17th, these troops became hotly engaged. While the battle was in progress, General Sumner’s corps was ordered to fill a gap on the left of the Union army, where, up to that time, there had been no fighting.

At nine o’clock, General Richardson’s division received its order to march. Moving from the position it had occupied during the night of the 16th, the Irish Brigade again in advance, the division made a wide detour to the right, and forded the creek, the men entering the cold water to their hips. General Richardson, with his staff about him, sat on his horse near the creek; and as the various regiments filed past him, addressed the Colonels in his usual stern manner: “No straggling to-day, Colonel! Keep your men well up and in hand.” When the troops reached the opposite shore of the stream, they were halted for a few moments, the men seizing upon the chance to empty their shoes, wring their stockings, and adjust their equipments. A flock of sheep quietly grazing on the hillside gave the place an air of peace, and but for the loud peal of artillery on the right, the men would have scarcely imagined themselves amid scenes of war.

Now came the second order to march. The ground was ascending, and the Brigade moved by the flank, the Sixty-ninth in advance, and next to them the Twenty-ninth. No sooner had the troops begun to move, than the enemy opened upon them, from the vicinity of Dr. Piper’s and Roulette’s houses, a galling artillery fire.

The crest of the hill was soon reached. The order was here given for the Brigade to form “a line of battle, and move forward till they met the enemy.” Under a terrible fire, the Brigade formed its line with great rapidity and in fine style, in the following order: Sixty-ninth on the right; next the Twenty-ninth; on their left the Sixty-third; and on the extreme left the Eighty-eighth. About this time, General Meagher was disabled, “his horse having been shot under him.”35

In front of the line was an open field, over which the enemy’s shot and shell came bounding and crashing incessantly, making great gaps in our line, and strewing the ground with the dead and wounded. “Forward!”—a welcome order; and the Brigade moved rapidly over the field. The enemy increased his fire, but the line moved on. A hundred yards in front was a Virginia fence; on the other side was another field and slightly rising ground; over the crest of the rising ground, a sunken road; and on the farther side of the road, an extensive corn-field and orchard. As the regiments neared the fence, a yell went up from the corn-field, and instantly springing to their feet, a long line of the enemy ran out towards our men, crossing the road and mounting the crest, where they delivered a mighty volley with deliberate aim. In an instant the air seemed filled with hissing bullets and large splinters from the fence.

Our line wavered a little; the fire was frightfully destructive. The field-officers perceiving this, ran through the ranks to the front. Instantly the line stiffened. And now for the fence. “Tear it down!” Immediately two thousand strong hands seize it, and it is flat upon the ground. “Forward!” Everything moves like clock-work. Without firing a shot, the Brigade moved in perfect line toward the sunken road, the enemy all the while firing deadly volleys. “Look at the perfect line of the Irish Brigade as it moves on the enemy!” said General McClellan to his generals, as he sat on his horse, near the creek. “Yes,” says the brave old General Mansfield, who was present and watching the movement with intense interest. “I claim the credit of having drilled the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts Regiment of that Brigade.”

Two-thirds of the distance across this bloody field was performed before came the order to “halt!” and at the same time the command to “fire!” The volley that played out along the line towards that terrible crest made the hills ring far and wide. It was spitefully done, and very effective, for instantly the Confederates fell back from the summit into the sunken road, receiving as they did several other volleys. No sooner in the road, the enemy, nothing daunted, commenced to fire over the bank. That part of our line held by the Sixty-ninth and Sixty-third was much exposed, while the Twenty-ninth, its usual “good luck” not forsaking it even here, was protected by a little ridge in its front and a slight depression of the ground upon which it stood. This did not in any way affect their range on the enemy,—the corn-field opened wide before them, their shots cutting off the stalks of green corn as would a scythe, and having their effect upon the enemy who were hiding there.

An hour had nearly elapsed since the front had been reached; several of the captains had reported that the guns of their men were getting so hot that the rammers were leaping out of the pipes at every discharge. The men had already nearly expended their ammunition. Several times during the battle the enemy had undertaken to come forward, but as often as they attempted it, they were swept back by our fire. Since General Meagher had been disabled, there had been no general officer present, each colonel acting upon his own responsibility. The enemy were well covered and determined.

Up to this time neither regiment had known the fate of the others, nor the extent of their respective losses. Colonel Barnes now hastened to the right of the Twenty-ninth, for the purpose of taking a careful survey of the field. To his dismay, he perceived that the Sixty-ninth, though holding on bravely, had lost nearly half their number; the Sixty-third had fared equally as hard, and the officers and men of both regiments were striving to keep up their formation. The Colonel, feeling a deep responsibility, saw at once that something must be done to prevent disaster; he knew, though he had received no orders since entering the fight, that from necessity the Brigade would soon be relieved, and was every moment expecting to hear the welcome shouts of fresh troops. Hastily giving his idea to Major Charles Chipman, his brave and worthy subordinate, he called upon the regiment for three cheers. The Major took the order to the left, and the boys gave the cheers with a will. Colonel Barnes then gave the order, “forward!” Instantly Sergeant Francis M. Kingman, the dauntless color-bearer, sprang to the front, the whole regiment promptly following him. Above the noise of the battle were heard the answering shouts of the brave Irishmen of the Brigade, their warlike spirit gaining fresh impulse as they started forward on the charge.

The crisis was over now; the bold forward movement had saved the Brigade from even one blot upon its bright record of fame. The shouts of our men, and their sudden dash toward the sunken road, so startled the enemy that their fire visibly slackened, their line wavered, and squads of two and three began leaving the road and running into the corn. Now the rush of troops was heard in the rear; now the air was rent with wild yells. It was altogether too much of a shock for the enemy; they broke, and fled for the corn-field. The next moment, Caldwell’s brigade, led by General Richardson in person, with Cross, Barlow, and all its other heroes, came sweeping up behind the shattered lines of the Irish Brigade. “The lines were passed by the Irish Brigade breaking company to the rear, and General Caldwell’s by company to the front, as steadily as on drill.”36

The night of the enemy was now complete. In a few moments Caldwell’s men were in possession of the road, and driving the Confederates through the corn-field and into the orchard beyond. The Irish Brigade, upon being thus relieved, fell back a short distance to the rear, retiring behind the first hill it had passed upon moving to the front. It had been in battle one hour and fifteen minutes. It was a sad sight to witness the broken and decimated ranks of the Sixty-third and Sixty-ninth, as they halted under the brow of the hill. The Sixty-third had lost very heavily of its officers and men, while the Sixty-ninth suffered even worse. Of seventy-two recruits who had joined the latter regiment a few days before, and who went into the battle with new uniforms, but two of the number escaped unhurt. Even in retiring from the front, the Brigade had suffered greatly from the fire of the enemy’s artillery, the Twenty-ninth suffering with the rest, though fortunately escaping the battle with a loss of only forty-four.

Panting from heat and exhaustion, the men at once stretched themselves upon the ground; but the Twenty-ninth had only rested a half-hour before they were again summoned by General Richardson to come to the front. Upon approaching the crest of the hill near the sunken road, the regiment was observed by General Richardson, who was personally directing the fire of a battery in a very exposed position. He beckoned Colonel Barnes to his side, and said, “I pray you, give me a canteen of water; I am dying of thirst.” The Colonel going back to the regiment, brought one of the numerous canteens, freely offered; but the General had barely raised it to his lips, when an exploding shell mortally wounded him.

The men, with sad hearts, watched the bleeding officer, as he was being borne away, never to return to his command, and then moved on toward the brow of the famous hill, now being swept by the artillery of the Confederates. Here the Twenty-ninth formed on the left of Caldwell’s brigade, and immediately threw out a line of skirmishers into the corn-field, joining the Fifth New Hampshire and other troops of the division engaged in a lively skirmish with the enemy, who was in the orchard, posted behind the trees and a long line of board fence, that ran along the edge of the orchard. The enemy’s troops here stationed were the same encountered by the Brigade in the battle of the morning, and were said to be a part of General Pryor’s division, the flower of the Confederate army. They were most excellent soldiers, fighting throughout the day with a determination that excited the wonder and admiration of all who encountered them.

The regiment retained the position just described during the remainder of the day and the night which followed. The enemy, with guns stationed in the orchard, and in advantageous positions on the right, enfiladed a part of our line here with murderous effect. General Hancock having assumed command of the division upon the wounding of General Richardson, was everywhere present, and exposed himself frequently to the fire. Hoping to silence the batteries of the Confederates, he sent forward several of our batteries to the hill last mentioned, and among them the “Dutch Battery,” so called. The latter came up well, but had fired but four rounds, when the men were driven from their guns, the regiment dragging off the abandoned pieces under the most perilous circumstances.

This part of the line was the scene of some of the most interesting events of the day, and every inch of ground was purchased with blood. The land over which Generals Richardson’s and French’s divisions fought was irregular in the extreme; “was intersected by numerous ravines, hills covered with growing corn enclosed by stone walls, behind which the enemy could advance unobserved upon any exposed part of our lines.” Once during the day the enemy attempted to gain the right of Richardson’s position in the corn-field. This movement was happily frustrated by the skilful manoeuvres of General Brooks’s brigade.

General Caldwell’s brigade, after relieving the Irish Brigade in the forenoon, “with determined gallantry,” not only drove the enemy in their front, but taking the Confederate line in flank, at the right of the Brigade, captured three hundred prisoners and three stands of colors.

Shortly after the assault on the right, the enemy attempted to turn the left of the division, but were gallantly met by the Fifth New Hampshire (under the famous Colonel Cross) and the Eighty-first Pennsylvania. After a sharp contest and a remarkable charge by these regiments, the enemy fled in confusion, “leaving many killed, wounded and prisoners, and the colors of the Fourth North Carolina, in our hands.”

When night came, the Twenty-ninth regiment still lay at the front, in the corn. They were on the skirmish line, and under such a constant fire from the enemy, that it was impossible to relieve them. During all the long hours of the darkness that followed, the men lay upon the ground, listening to the piteous moans and cries for help of the wounded soldiers of the enemy, who were lying about the field between the two lines, and could not be removed nor reached with safety. These sad sounds were occasionally drowned by the crash of musketry and the dismal hissing of bullets. In this manner the night was passed by our soldiers at the front; and the day which succeeded was scarcely less distressing in its experiences.

Although the battle was not renewed on the 18th, yet the two armies lay facing each other during the whole day and a part of the following night. Before light on the morning of the 18th, Company F, under Captain Tripp, which had been on the advanced line in the corn-field since noon of the 17th, where they had been terribly exposed, was relieved by Company C, under First Lieutenant N. D. Whitman, and Company K, under Captain Pray. Even in the darkness, the work of relieving the men at the front was attended with great risk. The two lines were less than one hundred yards apart; the enemy were intensely savage, and kept up a random but almost incessant firing. When the daylight came, matters were much worse; for, beside being more exposed to the fire from the orchard, our men suffered greatly from the heat of the sun, which poured down on their backs, being obliged to lie upon their faces between the rows of corn.

A large number of wounded Confederates were still scattered through the corn-field, some of them only a few yards distant from our pickets. The constant cries of these poor fellows, who were begging our men to remove them and give them water, excited the sympathy of our soldiers, and many brave, and even reckless, efforts were made during the day to relieve their sufferings. One soldier of Company C37 crawled on his hands and knees a distance of several yards toward the Confederate lines, in order to give a wounded enemy a drink of water from his canteen, the bullets of the Confederate sharpshooters striking close about him, and covering him with dust.

Another of these humane undertakings gave birth to an occurrence much talked of among our soldiers at the time, and which resulted in a temporary suspension of hostilities. Of the several versions given of this affair, the author chooses the following as being probably the most correct: Near the lines of the Fifth New Hampshire (in the corn-field), was lying a wounded Confederate officer. He was suffering greatly, and had been beseeching Colonel Cross’s men to take him into our lines. At last, Colonel Cross, moved deeply by these appeals, procured a canvas stretcher, and with the assistance of some of his men, went to the officer’s aid. Creeping stealthily along the ground, they neared the spot where the man lay, and pushed the stretcher under him. In doing so, a portion of the white canvas appeared above the tops of the corn. The enemy in the orchard observing it, immediately—and, doubtless, only too gladly—took it for a flag of truce, and at once ceased firing. After a little delay, General Pryor(?) of the Confederate army appeared, bearing a white flag, and General Meagher was ordered to meet him and ascertain his wishes. When the two officers met, each demanded of the other to know why the flag of truce had been raised, and each insisting that the flag had not been raised by their side, a somewhat heated conversation followed, when the two officers parted, and the firing immediately recommenced, Colonel Cross taking advantage of the lull to remove the wounded officer from the corn-field and convey him safely into our lines, where he was kindly treated and his wounds dressed.

During the night of the 18th, the enemy withdrew, but, as is well known, no movement took place during the following day. On the 19th, the last sad duties in connection with the battle were performed by our soldiers; namely, the burial of the dead. The Twenty-ninth was chiefly employed in this work during a greater part of the day, the part of the field assigned to them being the corn-field, sunken road, and orchard. Here the dead of the enemy (our own having been removed during the battle) were very numerous, and in the first stages of decomposition. Many of them had been lying on the field under the scorching rays of the sun for nearly forty-eight hours, and were swollen and black, and emitted a disgusting odor, fairly sickening our burial-party, who dug long trenches three feet deep, in which the dead were placed and covered with earth, as decently as circumstances would allow. In some places, as many as twenty-five bodies were found in a heap; in others, as many as seventy-five mangled and blackened victims were found lying only a few feet apart.

The trees in the orchard showed plainly the fierceness of the strife, which for two days and two nights had raged there with hardly a moment’s cessation. The trunks of the trees were literally filled with bullets, and the bark on the exposed sides wholly stripped off to a height of from six to ten feet from the ground.

The wounded of the Twenty-ninth had all been conveyed to a brick house and barn a short distance to the rear, where their more fortunate comrades paid them frequent visits during the 19th, cheering them with kind words, exchanging accounts of the battle, and rendering numerous little services. The dead of the regiment had been carefully buried on the field, and, where practicable, their honored graves were marked.

The numerous praises bestowed upon the regiment for its valuable services in this battle were highly flattering to both officers and men. General Meagher sent a request to Colonel Barnes to visit him at his tent a few days after the battle, and in the most pleasing manner expressed his high appreciation of the conduct of the Twenty-ninth. As the praise bestowed upon the Brigade is justly shared by the regiment, the author deems it but justice to his comrades to quote in this connection the words of General McClellan. In his report of the battle, that officer makes use of the following language:—

“Meagher’s brigade, advancing steadily, soon became engaged with the enemy, posted to the left and in front of Roulette’s house. It continued to advance, under heavy fire, nearly to the crest of the hill overlooking Piper’s house, the enemy being posted in a continuation of the sunken road and corn-field before referred to. Here the brave Irish Brigade opened upon the enemy a terrific musketry fire.... The Irish Brigade sustained its well-earned reputation. After suffering terribly, both in officers and men, and strewing the ground with their enemies as they drove them back, their ammunition nearly expended, and their commander, General Meagher, disabled by the fall of his horse, shot under him, this brigade was ordered to give place to General Caldwell’s brigade, which advanced to a short distance in its rear. The lines were passed by the Irish Brigade breaking company to the rear, and General Caldwell’s by company to the front, as steadily as on drill!”

Honorable mention of the Brigade is made in two other places in the report of General McClellan.

One of the members of the regiment, who was an inmate of the barn which has been alluded to in this chapter, relates the following touching incident: Among the wounded men here, was a poor soldier, both of whose legs had been amputated. He had been told by the surgeons that his case was a hopeless one, and if he had any message to send to his friends in the North, they would gladly transmit the same. Conscious of having done his duty, he spoke often of the battle, and then dictated to the surgeons a brief, but touching, letter to his wife and family. His thoughts now seemed to turn wholly upon his far-off home, and forgetting his torturing pains, his face seemed all aglow with the sweet memories which were floating before his mind. After talking a few moments, he asked those about him to raise his head from the floor. Suddenly summoning all his remaining energies, he began to sing in a clear and very melodious voice, “Home, Sweet Home.” All voices save his were quickly hushed in deep and attentive silence. The surgeons and nurses who were on duty among the wounded paused in their labors, and stood spell-bound and fascinated by the sweetness of his voice, and his rich cadences. The appearance of the dying singer, his countenance pallid and bloodless, gave the spectacle a strange, unearthly character, and the effective rendering which he gave to the tender and touching sentiment of the song fairly melted the hearts of all present; and when he finished, breathing out in the utterance of the closing words the last remnant of his strength, and sank almost senseless upon his pallet, “there was not a dry eye in the room.” The poor soldier died in the course of the day, but the incident was made a subject of conversation among the inmates for several weeks afterwards.

The following is a list of the killed, wounded, and missing of the regiment in this battle:—

KILLED.

Co. A.—Corporal Timothy D. Donovan; Private Edward O’Donnell.

Co. B.—John J. O’Brien.

Co. C.—Corporal Elijah H. Toleman; Private David H. Lincoln (from injuries received during battle).

Co. E.—Private Lawrence R. Blake.

Co. F.—Private Edward Ratagan.

Co. H.—Corporal Robert F. Greenough.

Co. I.—Private John C. Dow.

WOUNDED.

Co. A.—Privates Martin C. Mullen, Edward Kelley, Isaac H. Ferry, Joseph S. Farrell.

Co. B.—Private Charles McNulty.

Co. C.—First Sergeant Thomas Conant; Corporals D. W. Tribou,38 George W. Allen;38 Privates Henry A. Osborne, Thomas Arnold, Neil McMillan.

Co. D.—Second Lieutenant James H. Atherton;38 Corporal David D. Coleman; Bugler Benj. C. Dalton; Privates Frank G. Bumpus, John Fagan.

Co. E.—Sergeant John Shannon; Corporal Samuel C. Wright.38

Co. F.—Lieutenant Thomas H. Husband; Sergeant Bela H. King; Privates Joseph L. Westgate, Elisha Westgate; Musician Darius Bonney.

Co. G.—Private Joseph Duxbury.

Co. H.—Musician James A. Forbes; Private William Story.

Co. I.—Privates Thomas L. Glass, Charles E. Harris, Benj. E. Thompson.

Co. K.—Privates Elisha C. Ranks, Thomas F. Dolan.

MISSING.39

Co. B.—Corporals H. A. Dean, Thomas ——, Charles E. Getchell, Phillip Sullivan.