The result of the battle of Chancellorsville determined General Lee to carry out his cherished plan of invading the North. Hooker’s position in front of Fredericksburg being unfavorable for attack, the rebel chief early in June began a series of movements with the view of drawing him away from the river. Leaving Hill’s corps in the works at Fredericksburg, to keep up appearances, he concentrated Ewell’s, Longstreet’s, and Hood’s forces at Culpepper Court-House, near the upper waters of the Rappahannock, and about the middle of June pushed forward rapidly into the Shenandoah Valley, and either captured or defeated the feeble Union force opposing his march. Meanwhile, Hooker’s watchful eye was upon him, and the Sixth Corps crossed the river just below Fredericksburg to determine the strength and intentions of the rebels. A few days later, several army corps broke camp, and started off in the direction of Warrenton, for the purpose of watching the movements of the enemy, and covering the approaches to Washington; while on the ninth the cavalry inflicted a severe blow upon Jeb. Stuart’s troopers, who were gathering in strong force at Kelly’s Ford, twenty-five miles above Falmouth, intending to sweep with destruction the fertile fields of Pennsylvania.

The Second Corps was the last to leave the line of the Rappahannock. On the eighth of June, the Twenty-seventh Connecticut received orders to be ready to march at any time, with three days’ rations, and continued in this waiting posture until the fourteenth instant, when the final orders came, and at three P.M. the regiment, with the rest of the brigade acting as rear-guard to the corps, moved up the river to Banks’s Ford, relieved our pickets, reconnoitered the enemy, and retired toward Stafford Court-House. This little hamlet was left behind in flames. For several days the corps followed the roads near the Potomac, passing through Dumfries, Occoquan, and Fairfax Station, halting here two days, and arriving at Centreville on the nineteenth. The route now turned still farther to the left, crossing the old Bull Run battle-field, which had witnessed the decision of two campaigns. Time had not effaced the evidences of those disastrous days. Silently the troops moved over the field, and the thoughts of many a one among the older regiments, and of some in our own, hurried back to those scenes with impressive distinctness, as the bleached bones of the fallen, or the rubbish of battle, lay scattered along the roadside. After a severe march of twenty miles in the rain, the regiment arrived, at ten in the evening of June twentieth, at Thoroughfare Gap, a wild gorge in the Blue Ridge. The intensely exhausting march from Falmouth made the four days of comparative rest at the Gap exceedingly welcome. Here the troops were occupied in picketing the pass, in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the mountains. Meanwhile, to the north, Stuart and Pleasanton were once more on the charge at Aldie, Upperville, and Middleburg, and their muffled cannonade echoed among these hills and pleasant valleys, surely not unused to the sound, repeating itself again and again, as if from as many different directions.

June twenty-fifth, the regiment fell in at an early hour, ready to fight or march, as circumstances might require, for the rebels were approaching with malicious intent to capture the corps’ beef cattle and supply train, and sharp picket firing indicated the possible necessity of adopting the former alternative. But after remaining in line of battle, with no serious demonstration on the part of the enemy, the corps advanced through Haymarket, toward the Potomac. The rebel cavalry followed vigorously, and attempted to come in on our flanks, but skirmishers were thrown out, and the troops marched in hollow squares, prepared to repel any attack. At Haymarket, the batteries turned on the enemy, and drove them back. The column pushed forward to Gum Springs, and without pitching tents rested that night on their arms, drawn up in a hollow square, ready at a moment’s warning to meet any assault of rebel cavalry. At midnight of June twenty-sixth, the regiment crossed the Potomac at Edward’s Ferry. The next three days passed in continuous marching up the valley of the Monocacy river, through many quiet Maryland villages, among them Poolesville, Frederick City, Liberty, Johnsville, and Uniontown. Each day’s march was very protracted—that from Frederick City to Uniontown embracing a distance of thirty-six miles, and the manner in which it was performed elicited high compliments from Colonel Brooke, commanding the brigade.

Thus far the army had been manoeuvred so as to cover Washington and Baltimore, and now, as the rebel plans became more apparent, General Meade, who had recently superseded General Hooker, directed a concentration of his forces in the vicinity of Gettysburg. The First Corps held the advance, followed by the Eleventh, and on Wednesday morning, July first, drove the enemy’s skirmishers through the town. General Reynolds, in command of the corps, without hesitation moved forward to the attack, and met death while bravely posting his troops on the heights beyond. The rebels fell back slowly, in order to give time for Ewell’s men to come to their aid, and this being accomplished, they were more than a match for the combined First and Eleventh, with whose now united columns rested the decision of the day. At three in the afternoon, the enemy, thus reËnforced, took the offensive, and compelled General Howard, now in command, to withdraw his troops to the south of the town, and the close of the day left him securely intrenched on Cemetery Hill.

While these scenes were taking place around Gettysburg, the Twenty-seventh Connecticut, with its corps, leisurely moved up to Taneytown, just below the Pennsylvania State line. Here the troops rested a few hours, unconscious that the first of a trio of glorious battle days was already in progress. But soon the ominous notes of Howard’s and Ewell’s cannon strike on the ear, and add new emphasis to the call from the front for reËnforcements. Preceded by General Hancock, the corps advanced rapidly to within three miles of Gettysburg, and were occupied until midnight in throwing up intrenchments. At early dawn, July second, the brigades moved forward to take the places assigned them in the line of battle. Already the fitful fire of opposing pickets and skirmishers can be heard in the distance, with the occasional boom of heavy ordnance. The shock of battle, which is to determine the fate of the rebel invasion, will at the farthest be postponed but a few hours. Just before coming into position, and while the troops were resting under arms, the commander of our brigade assembled the officers, and briefly reminded them of the desperate character of the emergency, and urged the importance and necessity of devoting every energy to insure the successful issue of the conflict.

In order to understand the various positions of the Twenty-seventh during the action, let us briefly sketch the line of battle, as adopted by General Hancock, and along which the several corps were arranged, as they arrived on the field. Three important roads, the Emmettsburg, Taneytown, and Baltimore turnpike, converge in Gettysburg from the south. At their junction, just below the town, is the natural key of the position, the now historic Cemetery Hill. This elevation forms the northern end of a ridge prolonged about four miles, almost exactly due south, near to and parallel with the Taneytown road, gradually diminishing in altitude until it almost loses itself in the surrounding level, then rises again into the forest-crowned Little Round Top, or Weed’s Hill, and terminates in the yet higher ascent of Rocky Round Top itself. Beginning on the left at Round Top, the Union line extends northward in nearly a straight course along Cemetery Ridge, and at Cemetery Hill bends back to the east in the general form of a half circle, with a radius of three fourths of a mile—Culp’s Hill, and several minor eminences, lying in the circumference; and the extreme right, crossing Rock Creek, which flows at the base of these heights, rests upon the woody summit of Wolf’s Hill. The rebel forces occupied a series of heights corresponding to these, with an intervening belt of comparatively level and open country from one to two miles in width.

The forenoon of Thursday, July second, passed with no demonstration on either side. The hostile forces are rapidly marshalling on the opposite ridges. In the Union line the Twelfth Corps holds the eminences near Rock Creek, on the right; next is the First, on Culp’s Hill; then the Eleventh, at the centre, on Cemetery Hill, while along Cemetery Ridge are successively drawn up the Second, Third, and Fifth, with the Sixth in reserve near the Taneytown road. The Twenty-seventh Connecticut was stationed about a mile and a half south of Cemetery Hill, in the line occupied by our Second Corps on the left centre. Here the regiment remained nearly all day in quiet preparation for the conflict, which threatened at any moment to mar that peaceful landscape of thrifty farm-houses and waving grain.

Early in the afternoon, the Third Corps, on the left of the Second, advanced down the western slope of Cemetery Ridge, through woods and an extensive wheat-field, almost to the Emmettsburg road, which winds through the narrow valley, separating the hostile forces. Just beyond, Longstreet is forming his brigades, and at four o’clock, preceded by a brief cannonade, their gray ranks sweep out from woods and ravines, and once more is heard that strange, wild yell, as they throw themselves forward upon the thin line of the Third Corps. But before the storm of grape and canister from Cemetery Ridge they quickly fall back to organize anew their broken columns. Meanwhile reËnforcements from the Fifth and Second Corps moved rapidly to the scene of action. Once more in still heavier masses the enemy advanced to the charge. The Twenty-seventh, with the rest of the First Division, was hurried forward through fields and by-roads, to support the faltering line. As the regiment enters the wheat-field, already referred to, the broken remains of the Third Corps are slowly retiring to the rear. A few steps more bring the men under the full sweep of the enemy’s fire. Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin falls while leading the command with his accustomed bravery. Under Major Coburn, the line still presses forward at double-quick, through the wheat-field and woods beyond, driving the rebels a quarter of a mile, across a ravine, which on the further side rises into a precipitous ledge. The men with much difficulty clambered up the rocky steep, but as they appeared upon the crest of the hill, the enemy, drawn up in readiness just beyond, within pistol-range, opened upon them a withering fire. The contest at this point continued for some time. Planting the colors upon the top, the men loaded their pieces under shelter of the brow of the hill, then, rising up, delivered their fire. Meanwhile the troops to our right gave way, and, taking advantage of the exposed position of the right flank of our brigade, the enemy advanced a body of troops in that direction, and General Brooke at length ordered our shattered line to fall back, which was accomplished under a heavy cross-fire.

Thus with varying success the battle raged from four P.M. until dark. Now the feeble line of the Third Corps trembles before the fierce onset of the foe, and retires, contesting the ground inch by inch; but the irresistible onslaught of reËnforcements soon turns the tide. Again the rebels push back the Union troops almost to the original lines on Cemetery Ridge, and again are themselves repulsed before the concentrated fire of our artillery, aiding the charge of a brigade of infantry.

The conflict on the left wing terminated at dark, leaving the enemy in possession of the wheat-field. No attack had yet been made upon other parts of the line, but, as the day closed, a division, deploying from the edge of the town, made a brief and desperate, but fruitless, assault upon the batteries posted on Cemetery Hill. And still further to the right, the enemy, observing that the larger part of the forces on Culp’s Hill had been drawn off to meet pressing emergencies elsewhere, crossed Rock Creek, and, charging up the woody slope, secured a lodgement for the night in the unoccupied portion of the works. Such was the general result of the day’s fighting.

The Twenty-seventh went into action with seventy-five men, all that could be mustered for duty after an active service of not quite nine months. At the camps of paroled prisoners, the Richmond voyagers of our regiment, though not permitted to rejoin the command, yet in thought followed their comrades through all the vicissitudes of march and battle which attended them. At five P.M. that little band of seventy-five men formed for the charge at the edge of the wheat-field. At dark thirty-eight were numbered among the casualties: eleven killed—among them Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin, and Captain Jedediah Chapman—twenty-three wounded, and four missing. One of the latter, when Lee’s army retreated, was marched by his captors from Gettysburg to Staunton, Virginia, one hundred and eighty miles, and thence transported by railroad to Richmond. After a six weeks’ experience on Belle Island, he was paroled, and returned home so emaciated and worn down by hardship as to be almost beyond recognition even by members of his own company.

At the close of the action in front of the left wing, the Twenty-seventh was assigned a new position in the line of battle, about midway on the ridge between Cemetery Hill and Round Top. The regiment remained in this vicinity until the Second Corps started in pursuit of Lee’s army, three days later. Early the next morning, July third, the men were roused from sleep by a furious cannonade from batteries posted on Power’s Hill, about half a mile to the rear. These dogs of war were paying their morning compliments to the rebels, who still occupied the works on the extreme right, which they had captured the previous evening. For an hour this thunder-toned reveille awoke the resting armies to the still fiercer drama of the last battle day. The infantry followed up this fiery prelude with a vigorous attack upon the rebel vantage-ground, the importance of which seemed fully appreciated by both sides. The struggle continued with unabated resolution until nine o’clock, when the Union forces succeeded in dispossessing the enemy of this to them valuable point d’appui for future operations.

With the exception of a severe artillery fire, to which General Meade’s headquarters were subjected, the enemy attempted nothing further during the remainder of the forenoon. The Twenty-seventh was busily engaged in throwing up intrenchments, gathering for this purpose rails and stones from neighboring fences, and, in the absence of picks and shovels, using their bayonets and tin plates to heap up the earth. In his morning rounds, General Hancock visited the brigade, and as he stood near by, conversing with Major Coburn, our acting Brigadier, Colonel Brooke, called the General’s attention to the little remnant of the Twenty-seventh, alluding, in strong terms of commendation, to the conduct of the regiment in the action of the preceding afternoon. Turning to the men, General Hancock said: “Stand well to your duty now, and in a few days you will carry with you to your homes all the honors of this, the greatest battle ever fought upon the continent.”

From eleven o’clock until one, only stifled mutterings of the impatient storm disturbed the quiet which reigned along the lines. The rebels were silently maturing their plans for the last grand charge, upon which they staked the fate of the invasion. Those were hours of indescribable suspense to the defenders of the Union, whether or no the sun would set upon a foe elated with victory and pressing onward to new conquests, or sullenly retiring in defeat. At one o’clock the combat began. From every commanding eminence in their concave line, the rebel artillery, numbering more than a hundred guns, opened a terrific cannonade, probably unsurpassed in violence during the whole war. For more than an hour this wild storm of shot and shell rolls over the Union line, from Round Top to Rock Creek. The infantry are partially sheltered behind intrenchments, while the cannoneers stand at their posts, replying occasionally to the bombardment, but reserving their fire for more decisive work, when the rebel forces advance to the assault. At length the cannonade slackens, to give way to the next act in the drama, the crisis of the tragedy. In full view two heavy lines of troops, the flower of the rebel army, with skirmishers in front, deploy from the woods and ridges beyond the Emmettsburg road. With the steadiness of hardened veterans they move forward to the attack. From Cemetery Ridge thousands of Union troops are watching their progress, for the assault is directed upon the left centre. On arriving at the road, the enemy opened a heavy musketry fire, and dashed rapidly forward across the level plain. The very moment they emerged from behind Seminary Heights, the Union artillery met them with shot and shell and solid shot, but now, as they approach within easy range, their ranks are mercilessly raked with a tempest of canister. Cemetery Hill is wreathed with flame from the guns of thickly-massed infantry, and the fringe of fire courses along the crest of the ridge for two miles, as far as the rebel attack extends. Though temporarily checked, one division still marches on with desperate energy up to the very works. Only a weak line bars their progress, but reinforcements quickly arrive at the critical point, around which the contending hosts now struggle, in one of the most hotly-contested encounters of the battle. For a time the rebels bravely maintain their position, but clouds of missiles from Cemetery Hill tear into their ranks, while infantry crowd them vigorously in front and flank. At length, leaving the ground thickly strewn with killed and wounded, and multitudes as prisoners in the hands of the conquerors, the broken remnants roll back in wild confusion, and disappear behind the hills from which they had sallied forth.

This last charge of the rebels took place just to the right of the position held by the Twenty-seventh, which we have already referred to as being half-way between Round Top and Cemetery Hill. From the relation of the ground to the surrounding high land, the location of our brigade was regarded as one of the weakest in the line, and General Hancock expressed the opinion that here the enemy would make his attack. Fortunately it proved otherwise, although for a time such a movement seemed imminent. Near the close of the action, a division, massed in column, advanced directly upon our front, but the reserve artillery quickly drove them back before they came within musketry range. The favorable termination of what was felt to be the last assault the rebels would make, produced a profound feeling of satisfaction. But one of the saddest of duties remained to be performed—to bury the dead and gather the wounded into the hospitals. This work occupied the men during July fourth. On that day, Lee’s army withdrew from this scene of inglorious defeat, and retired in a southwesterly direction.

In the afternoon of July fifth, the war-worn Twenty-seventh, with the Second Corps, left those battle-scarred heights, the theatre of a costly but substantial triumph, which marks the turning-point in the fortunes of the rebellion. For the next few days the march was directed toward the Potomac, following at first the Taneytown road. But slow progress was made, in consequence of frequent rains and the thoroughly exhausted condition of the troops. The state of popular feeling along the route was in striking contrast with the dejected aspect of every countenance when the army was on its way to Gettysburg. Now, Frederick City put on its most smiling face. Flags were flung to the breeze, and the people gave an enthusiastic welcome to the regiments as they passed through in pursuit of Lee’s army. The route now crossed the Blue Ridge, by way of Crampton’s Gap. Here the severe rains had gathered a considerable torrent, several feet deep, which formed the pathway of the troops for nearly two miles. The Twenty-seventh was once more in the vicinity of the enemy, who had retreated down the western slope of the mountains, and were now in position at Williamsport, on the Potomac, preparing to cross into Virginia. The sound of cannon in that direction informed us that they were but a short distance to the front; and while on the field of Antietam, the brigade formed in line of battle, as a precautionary measure. The next day the rebel cavalry attacked the skirmish line, but quickly fell back before a severe shelling. In anticipation of further fighting, the men spent two nights and one day in building an elaborate line of intrenchments; but it proved to be labor lost, as the rebels retired, on the night of the fourteenth, to the south bank of the river. Immediately on ascertaining this fact, the Twenty-seventh, with the brigade, was ordered down to Falling Waters, a short distance below Williamsport, and arrived there just in time to witness the capture of the enemy’s rear-guard, more than a thousand strong.

The invasion was now at an end; and as the last rebel left the soil of Maryland, the campaign of the Twenty-seventh drew near to its close. Leaving Falling Waters, the regiment accompanied the Second Corps down the Potomac to Harper’s Ferry, and went into camp at Pleasant Valley, about two miles distant. On the morning of July eighteenth the Twenty-seventh ceased its connection with the Army of the Potomac. In announcing this event, Colonel Brooke, our brigade commander, issued the following general order:

With glad hearts the men formed in line at an early hour and took the cars for Baltimore, after a parting salute to the brigade, as it marched by on its way into Virginia. On the twentieth, the detachments of paroled men from Annapolis and Camp Convalescent arrived at Baltimore, and the whole regiment, now mustering about half the original number, started by railroad for New-Haven. Once more we were entertained at the “Volunteer Refreshment Saloon,” in Philadelphia, and, after a night’s bivouack at the Battery, in New-York, arrived at the “place of enrolment” on the twenty-second of July, 1863, exactly nine months from the date of departure for the field. We shall not attempt to describe the hearty enthusiasm and deep feeling of the reception which followed. That “glorious welcome home” will long be remembered by the soldiers of the Twenty-seventh. Escorted by the military companies of the city and the municipal authorities, the regiment marched from the cars to the north portico of the State House, while “Welcome!” pealed from the ringing bells, thundered in the roar of cannon, waved from every flag-staff, and shone on every countenance of the vast multitude, gathered from all parts of the county, and thronging the streets and public square. At the State House, after the regiment had been drawn up “in column by division,” the Mayor presented the formal welcome of the city, and was succeeded by Rev. Dr. Bacon in a brief address, closing with a prayer of thanksgiving. The following poem, written by Mrs. William Doty, of New-Haven, and accompanying a gift of laurel wreaths to the field-officers, was then read:

A TRIBUTE OF WELCOME

TO THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CONNECTICUT VOLUNTEERS.

At the conclusion of these exercises a bountiful collation was served up, after which the men separated, to await the completion of the papers necessary to the final muster out of service, which took place July twenty-seventh, 1863.

Thus terminated the eventful campaign of the Twenty-seventh Connecticut Volunteers. During this brief term of nine months, the regiment performed marches in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, amounting to no less than five hundred miles, and participated in three of the great battles of the war—Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg—losing in killed and wounded in the first, about one third, and in the last, one half, of those present in action. Very many of our number, on their return, reËnlisted in other organizations, and illustrated on new fields the same valor which bore them and their comrades up the fiery slope of Fredericksburg, nerved all hearts calmly to meet disaster in the wilderness of Chancellorsville, and crowned with victory the heights of Gettysburg.