The campaign of the Twenty-seventh Regiment Connecticut Volunteers began in the most critical and anxious period of the war against the rebellion—the year 1862. After long months of diligent preparation, the Army of the Potomac opened the year with its first memorable advance against the rebel capital. The inspiring faith of all loyal hearts followed every step of its progress up the Peninsula, toward the stronghold of treason; and when the shattered but undaunted remnants retreated down the James river, and hurried to the defence of the national capital, menaced by an exultant foe, deep was the disappointment which filled the whole North. Every ear was strained to catch the result of the conflict before Washington, only to hear that the rebels had been partially successful, and were crossing the Potomac into Maryland and Pennsylvania. Those were days of profound anxiety, but not of weak irresolution. Each new disaster seemed to bring the people nearer to a realization of the magnitude of the struggle, and nerve them to fulfil the imperative duties of the hour. The President, early in July, issued his Proclamation, calling for three hundred thousand men, to serve for three years; and on the fourth of August following summoned to the field three hundred thousand more, to serve for nine months. The Twenty-seventh Regiment was organized under this latter call. Its members were recruited from New-Haven county, and mainly from the city of New-Haven, with considerable numbers from Madison, Milford, Meriden, Wallingford, Branford, Clinton, and Guilford, and still smaller quotas from other neighboring towns.

The character and material of the regiment well illustrated the heartiness with which all classes responded to the earnest call of the President in those dark days of the Republic. Every variety of condition and employment found representatives in the Twenty-seventh. The agricultural population of the county responded with a goodly number of the votaries of Ceres. Many of the most respected and enterprising mechanics and business men of the community laid aside for a season the implements of their labor to join its ranks. Members of the press exchanged pen and type for sword and bayonet. There were also several accomplished engineers in the regiment, one of whom was detailed in that department, on the staff of General W. S. Hancock, and had charge of the General’s topographical maps and plans of battles. The public schools of the city contributed one of their most esteemed teachers, who gave his life on the field of Fredericksburg; and in the room where of yore he so successfully led on his pupils from step to step in knowledge, hangs his portrait, to them a daily-recurring lesson of noble patriotism and self-devotion. Also the various professions furnished of their members; and old Yale, never faithless to the patriotic instincts of her Revolutionary sons, was represented by several of her graduates and students, one of whom was a color-bearer of the regiment at Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg.

The first company went into camp at Camp Terry, New-Haven, in the latter part of August, and by the middle of September the whole number of companies were on the ground, with nearly a full quota of men. Being technically a militia regiment, the choice of field officers was vested in those of the line. Richard S. Bostwick, of New-Haven, was elected Colonel; Henry C. Merwin, of the same place, Lieutenant-Colonel; and Theodore Byxbee, of Meriden, Major; all of whom, with a number of the company officers, had been connected with the three-months volunteers at the beginning of the war. After several weeks spent in perfecting the organization and equipment, the regiment was mustered into the United States service, October twenty-second, 1862, for the term of nine months, and started for the field in the evening of that day, numbering eight hundred and twenty-nine, rank and file.

Without stopping to dwell upon the passage to New-York, to Port Monmouth, or upon the generous hospitality of the Quaker City, and passing by the night journey to Baltimore, succeeded by a day’s rest on the pavements of that city, the morning of the twenty-fifth found us in Washington. Camp Seward, on Arlington Heights, is soon reached, and quickly long rows of tents rear their white roofs in General Lee’s peach orchard. Possibly in other days we should have been summarily ejected by a grand charge of that gentleman’s dusky retainers, or perhaps indicted in the courts for presuming to trespass upon the domain of an F. F. V., and have paid dearly to appease his injured feelings. But now the crowd of slaves is dispersed, and “Massa Lee” is not there to dispute our right to possession.

Our introduction to the Old Dominion would be incomplete unless the foreground of the picture presented to view that bugbear, Virginia mud, which has made and unmade so many Generals, and stopped the wheels of the Army of the Potomac with periodical regularity. We had hardly arrived at Camp Seward when the clouds began to marshal their forces for an illustration of their power to change the sacred soil into a sea of mud; and as if to show the minutiÆ of the forming process, it began to drizzle slowly; the mist gradually enlarged into drops, and the soil grew softer and softer. As we floundered about, we began to realize that the aforesaid mud was not altogether a myth, conjured up by inefficient commanders to excuse inaction. The storm continued at intervals during the twenty-sixth, and, as night approached, a strong wind, superadded to the pelting rain, swept howling over the ridge, tearing many of our tents from their uncertain moorings. All, however, were disposed to view philosophically this somewhat unceremonious welcome to the soil of Virginia, and the hardships of a soldier’s life.

At noon of the twenty-seventh the order came to strike tents, preparatory to moving our camp a few miles up the Potomac. Late in the day the march began. Crossing over into Georgetown, by the Aqueduct Bridge, and following the picturesque course of the river up to Chain Bridge, we return to the left bank, and bivouack for the rest of the night around huge fires. The next morning Camp Tuttle assumes a veritable existence, and here the Twenty-seventh settle down to a month’s routine and drill, preliminary to the rough experience of an actual campaign. Our camp was situated upon a rising ground, from which could be seen the majestic dome of the Capitol. Some distance in front of the parade, and on the left, were thick woods, while the right was skirted by a road, across which were encamped the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-eighth New-Jersey, and the One Hundred and Twenty-seventh Pennsylvania, which, with our own regiment, constituted a brigade of Abercrombie’s division of the army, for the defence of Washington. As soon as the camp was established in its new location, the Colonel issued a regimental order, setting forth the programme of daily duty as follows: Reveille at six A.M.; guard mounting at eight; company drill from nine to eleven, and again from one to two; battalion drill from three to four, and dress parade at five P.M.; tattoo at nine, taps at half-past nine. All this was varied by an occasional season of picket duty, a few miles up the Leesburg turnpike.

Our first Sabbath at Camp Tuttle forms, in most respects, a sample of all the rest. Sunday is to the soldier the most anomalous day of the calendar, especially if situated, as we were, without a chaplain. The weekly inspection and freedom from drill are the chief points which distinguish it from other days. In the present instance, however, an unexpected cause of excitement appeared. After dress parade, it was announced that in consequence of certain rumored movements of the enemy in the direction of Leesburg, it might be necessary to beat the long roll, to call the regiment under arms at any moment during the night. Of course, the very thought of a rebel added new zest to our military existence. Every one was on the qui vive, and made his arrangements to respond to the call with the utmost promptness. But the apprehended raid did not take place, and our rest was therefore undisturbed by the soul-stirring notes of the long roll.

Every few days a company was detailed to go on picket—an event not altogether unwelcome, as a relief to the monotonous round of camp duties, and as an introduction to a new phase of experience. To obtain some idea of this portion of our regimental life around Washington, let us “fall in,” fully armed and equipped, and follow one of these parties to the picket-line. On the present occasion, Company H, with detachments from other regiments, started out one morning, and, after marching several miles on the Leesburg Turnpike, arrived about ten o’clock at the village of Langley. The line of pickets extended along the main road a short distance beyond the centre of the place, and also along a cross-road, which, coming up from the south, connects with the turnpike just before we reach the village. Houses, favorably situated at different points, were occupied as headquarters of the various squads, or, if such conveniences were not at hand, brush huts supplied their place. At that time Langley consisted of about a dozen houses, and one small church, and had once been favored with two regular taverns, whose sphere was now filled by two boarding-houses of minor importance, one of which indicated its character to the public by the sign:

The dinner hour having arrived, the pickets unanimously conclude to set aside Uncle Sam’s homely fare, and take advantage of the enlarged facilities of entertainment afforded by the village. Accordingly they adjourn to one of the boarding-houses, kept by a man of secession proclivities, whose principles, however, do not interfere with his untiring efforts to please. Such houses of refreshment, where a civilized meal could be obtained, situated as they were here and there along the picket-line, added much to the enjoyment of these brief excursions from camp. Our duties were not very onerous, requiring the attention of each man two hours out of every six, and consisted in seeing that no one passed along the road, or appeared in the vicinity, without proper authority. In good weather, the two days of picket duty, occurring once a fortnight, were quite agreeable; but if stormy, they afforded good material for the grumbling fraternity.

In view of the approach of winter, and the probability of remaining in our present location for some time, it was thought best to make corresponding preparations. Pine logs, with considerable labor, were cut and brought in from the neighboring forest, and soon Camp Tuttle began to present an air of comfort positively inviting. But after only a brief enjoyment of our improved quarters, and as if to remind us of the uncertainty always attending the soldier’s life, orders came, November eighteenth, for Company H to strike tents, pack up, and march over to Hall’s Hill, there to clear up a place for the regimental encampment. Arriving on the hill in a pelting rain, huge fires were built of the brush and stumps which covered the ground, and by evening our tents were up, and we were as comfortable as circumstances would allow. Hearing of several deserted encampments about a mile distant, on Miner’s and Upton’s Hills, many parties went out the next morning to secure anything which might add to their convenience. A large barren plain was covered far and wide with the huts and dÉbris of a portion of McClellan’s army, which encamped here in the winter of 1862. The whole presented a very curious and suggestive sight. Meanwhile, orders came to strike tents and rejoin the regiment. It appeared that all the regiments in the vicinity were ordered to prepare for a rapid march. The Army of the Potomac had but recently crossed the river, after the battle of Antietam, in pursuit of Lee, and the enemy were said to be threatening General Sigel, in command at Centreville. In view of this state of affairs, the reserve, in the defences of Washington, was called upon to be ready for any emergency. Returning to camp, we found the men earnestly canvassing the nature of the contemplated march. The orders, however, were countermanded in the evening, perhaps in consequence of a severe storm, which continued for several days.