Read Ebook: Reminiscences of the Thirty-Fourth Regiment Mass. Vol. Infantry by Clark William H

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NEWMARKET.

After a march of some hours, our Regiment had arrived in the vicinity of Newmarket, Va.; not, however, without an occasional shot being exchanged between the light artillery which preceded us and that of the enemy. As we were marched to a position somewhat sheltered by a low ridge, this firing was kept up with vigor. The peculiar tone and expression assumed by our commander, Colonel Wells, as he directed our movements will be remembered by many. "Don't you see how they are firing at me?" was his demand, evidently more for its effect on his men than from any special concern as to his own safety.

So passed the afternoon of Saturday, May 14, 1864, and the night, a rainy and uncomfortable one, settled down upon us; but war is no respecter of the stillness of night, and the fact of a foe being close at hand is a great promoter of uneasiness. Suddenly a shot is heard, then a volley, and we are roused up without ceremony; but the alarm proves nothing serious, being caused by a small reconnoitreing party from the enemy. We lie down again, all save the watchful sentinels, and sheltering ourselves from the rain so far as possible, get what sleep may be had under the circumstances. A part of the morning is occupied in putting our arms and ourselves in good fighting condition, though this is a difficult matter in some cases; the rain having, in spite of our care, reached our muskets to some extent.

The quiet is broken by an order to a different position, which order is repeated occasionally during the forenoon, keeping us in motion almost constantly from one point to another. At last, a satisfactory position having been reached, we lie down on our arms for a short time, but soon are ordered to rise and then to load and fire as rapidly as we can. In the meantime, a Battery has been stationed on our right and its guns begin to play on the enemy. After firing several volleys a charge is ordered, and as we advance, the opposing force comes plainly into view. The yells and cheers accompanying this movement make it almost impossible to hear any order from our superior officers, but we finally comprehend that a "right-about" is ordered. This is executed, and we retrace our steps for a short distance, still keeping on a line with the colors, while the continuous cheering of the enemy shows that they fully appreciate their advantage. We now begin to feel seriously the effect of the heavy fire, both musketry and artillery, which fills the air with deadly missiles. A prominent field officer is disabled by a severe wound, and as the enemy press close upon us, necessarily falls into their hands; while others who are less injured are supported from the field to receive surgical aid.

The Regiment, having reached a good position, is halted, faced about, and aids in checking the enemy's advance, much to the satisfaction of the wounded, who are making their way to Mt. Jackson, some four miles distant. Night falls, and the sounds of battle are hushed; but this Sabbath day, so disturbed by mortal strife, has proved the last for many who had cherished hopes of "bright days yet to be."

INCIDENTS.

It will be remembered by some, that at an early period of our regimental history, a fever for enlistment into the regular army prevailed to a certain extent. The causes which produced this state of things are unknown to the writer, but it seems probable that highly colored statements as to the relative advantages of one branch of the service over another had been employed.

At one time, the young and popular Captain of a certain Company saw fit to celebrate his birthday by furnishing his men with an unusual treat. A supply of "lager" was secured from a neighboring fort, and placed conveniently in one of the tents, with the understanding that all were welcomed to partake. As the evening advanced a spirit of jollity naturally prevailed, stimulated a little, it may be, by the influence of the Teutonic beverage, till the stentorian voice of Orderly B-- rang out even more loudly than usual, summoning the Company to fall in for evening roll-call, after which quiet was restored, and night settled down peacefully as usual over our camp.

The Company in which occurred the last incident numbered among its original members two, who were truly of a kindred spirit, though of different birth. Once, for some infraction of discipline in which both were concerned, they were compelled to wear "the wooden shirt," and to march back and forth before the Captain's quarters: yet they were far from being disheartened, but with great merriment performed this unusual sentry duty, assisting each other, in case of any accident, with an almost brotherly regard. One of this pair of intimate friends is believed to have died at Andersonville. As to his comrade, many years have passed since the writer last beheld his strongly marked features, and whether he is still in the land of the living is a matter of uncertainty. So drops the curtain over our heroes.

IN MEMORIAM.

A few closing words as a tribute to the honored dead. While referring especially to a few names in this connection, no peculiar honor is claimed for them above the large number of their comrades in other Companies whose record is equally honorable; but of those we know best we can, doubtless, best speak.

Brave Christopher Pennell; with a noble ambition leaving his many friends to serve in another field, and falling at last before Petersburg.

Captain William B. Bacon: an able and intrepid soldier, than whom few had brighter prospects of advancement and honor, stricken down at Newmarket while inspiring his men with his own fearlessness of spirit.

Sergeant Henry B. King: of a gentle and obliging spirit and beloved by all his comrades, dying on the field of battle, and leaving only the knowledge of his devotion to duty to cheer his youthful and bereaved companion.

The brothers, Dwight and Henry Chickering: noble and promising youths, making the woods ring with the sound of their axes, and their whole-souled laughter, as we prepared to encamp after the day's weary march.

But one more will be particularly mentioned here, in reference to whom Brigade Surgeon Clarke uses this language, in a letter informing his friends of his death: "he was a brave, conscientious and faithful soldier." And what shall I say of thee, my brother, my faithful friend? Though the snows of seven winters have in their season robed thy grave with a stainless winding-sheet, yet is thy memory cherished fondly as at first: still shall the flowers of each succeeding summer strew that grave, and the lofty pines of thy native state shall furnish thy requiem.

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