A History of the Second Division Naval Militia Connecticut National Guard

by Daniel Doane Bidwell

“DEWEY DAY”

LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER LYMAN ROOT

Probably the most memorable occasion in the history of the command was September 30, 1899, “Dewey Day,” the day of the giant procession in New York City in honor of the fine old hero of Manila Bay. When the organizations to represent this state were selected, it was the Naval Battalion which headed the list of honor. The First Regiment was not upon the list, but with honorable patriotism officers of the regiment who had served in Camp Alger requested of Lieutenant Lyman Root, Lieutenant Parker’s successor, permission to wear the sailor blue and carry Springfields in the division ranks. Men who had served in distant years in the wooden navy and men who had fought under Dyer in Manila Bay and Wainwright in the combat with the Furor and the Pluton and had returned to Hartford, also asked and received the same permission.

With four officers and 112 men the division swung out from the armory on the evening of the 29th and amid red fire and with a band blaring at the front paraded to the railroad station, envied by infantrymen who could not obtain opportunity to march in the mammoth procession. At 11 o’clock the company marched into the Second Regiment Armory in New Haven, stacked arms and was dismissed for a midnight lunch, at which the men stowed away steaming coffee and ham sandwiches and received strict orders not to leave the building. Then they made living pillows of one another and slumbered innocently on benches in the gallery till some wee, sma’ hour or other in the morning, when the Second Regiment crashed out with “Onward Christian Soldiers,” and summoned them back to the world of consciousness and sin. At 3 o’clock they fell in and marched out into a hospitable rain punctuated by milkmen and policemen. Three-quarters of an hour later they boarded the side-wheeler Shinnecock. At 4 o’clock the steamer got under way and the men began to look forward to a night of rest. One man slept on his arm under a table in the dining saloon piled six feet high with camp chairs. Another was lost to the world under the break of the pilot house. Still another slept on unbaled hay for the field officers of the Second Regiment. Some slumbered in gangways and some on the paddle boxes. The mathematical boys of the division demonstrated the problem that it was possible to sleep anywhere in space.

Somewhere in the head of the Sound the Shinnecock fell on an evil time. A bushing on a feathering paddle blade in the starboard wheel misbehaved and a bar buckled and for three hours she drifted while engineers made repairs. Finally an emergency landing was made in a convenient coal yard in Port Morris and the battalion trotted at double time for two miles over Harlem cobblestones, arriving just in time to fall in ahead of General Oliver O. Howard and the Grand Army Division.

During the march the men had a coveted opportunity to view the one-armed corps commander at close range. Much of the time the old hero was obliged to ride with his bridle rein in his teeth and with his chapeau in his hand in response to the frantic waves of applause which greeted him. The occupants of the closely packed stands along the line of march rose in wildly cheering masses as they caught sight of the grizzled veteran and the men of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Down Riverside Drive and for four miles in the heart of the city the battalion marched with fixed bayonets. It paraded between solid masses of cheering citizens and almost solid walls of flags and decorations. At every halt the men were refreshed with fruit, coffee or drinkables, sandwiches and salads or cigars, and presented with flowers and souvenirs. At one halt on aristocratic Fifth Avenue a shower of silk college sofa cushions came down from window seats and a Princeton cushion was impaled on the historian’s bayonet.

At the conclusion of the parade many of the division repaired to restaurants near Madison Square and Union Square. Dozens of them found, when they stepped to the cashiers’ coops to liquidate, that unknown civilians had obtained their checks and paid the bills. A man in a sailor uniform in New York City that September afternoon found it no easy task to spend money. Nothing was too good for the bluejackets.

It is to be recorded that Lieutenant Cuntz, Gunner’s Mate Huntington, Coxswain Chapin and Seamen Noble and Nutter preceded the battalion to New York. When the Shinnecock failed to appear, they annexed three stray regulars from the U. S. S. Texas, and assumed an advanced place in the column. In one of the spectators’ stands certain individuals conceived the notion that the eight were Hobson and the Merrimac survivors. In a few moments the word was passed over the stand and the crowd was on its feet in a wild burst of applause.

While Dewey Day experiences were still being talked over, arrangements were quietly made for a presentation to the first commanding officer, Mr. Parker, who was lured to Turnerbund Hall to receive from the command a gold watch with chain and fob, the chain in the semblance of a stud-link ship’s cable and the fob a division pin mounted on a locket.

More of the tang of salt air and of the romance of the ocean came one evening in the next drill season when the division mustered in the parlor to listen to a talk by Professor Henry Ferguson of Trinity College, an honorary member, who told a thrilling tale of shipwreck in the mid-Pacific. Professor Ferguson recited the story of the Hornet, a clipper which sailed from New York in 1866 for San Francisco. When the ship was several hundred miles off the Galapagos fire obliged the crew to take to the three boats, which were provisioned for ten days. It was decided to head for the north, to keep in the track of San Francisco vessels. Merchantmen in those days adhered to Maury’s sailing directions and it was reasoned that chances would be better in the sea highway than in attempting to reach land. By day the heat was nearly intolerable. Nights were treacherous as they induced squalls of the vindictively sudden nature peculiar to those Equatorial waters. Day after day wore by with an unbroken horizon. Finally the boats crawled up into the trade winds. It was decided to separate the boats to increase the chance of finding aid. For twenty-five days the sailors had fought wind, sun, and water and now they were in danger of fighting starvation, the ten days’ provisions, which had been distributed into one-third allowances, being nearly exhausted. The remaining provisions were in turn re-divided, but were gone in a fortnight. The men surviving sought nourishment in the chewing of leather and moist clothing. On the point of utter exhaustion they made a landfall, which proved to be Hawaii, and were rescued by a crew from a coasting station. They had spent forty-three days in an open boat and had traveled nearly three thousand miles.

More of the romance of the sea came to the division when the story of a “war member,” William Hurd, and the schooner Intrepid was told. Less than a month after Professor Ferguson’s lecture, Hurd cleared in New York with his little auxiliary as a trader to carry trinkets, tin jewelry, Yankee notions, canned soups, linens and whatnot to Baranquila and to acquire cocoanuts and rubber on the Mosquito Coast and islands nearby. His auxiliary was sixty-one feet on the water line and eighteen feet beam and thirty-five gross tonnage, or twenty-eight net. She had a powerful gasoline motor. After she cleared, Colombian insurrectionists captured Baranquila and Hurd’s friends in the division began to wonder what would happen to their former shipmate if an insurrecto officer ranged alongside with more of an appetite for grindstones, canned soups and tin jewelry than for international law. But Hurd was able to take care of himself. He prospered as a trader, made a bushel of money, spent it and finally returned.

At the annual banquet of 1900, Admiral Bunce, U.S.N., retired, was a guest and in his speech pointed out that foreign intelligence officers knew full well that seven-tenths of the arms and ammunition made for the government came from Connecticut. In response to a toast another speaker, Francis B. Allen, said:

“It was one of your honorary members, our distinguished Admiral Bunce, who, while in command of the North Atlantic Squadron just prior to the Spanish War, brought not only the fleet but each individual ship to such a degree of excellence in squadron evolutions and gun drills that he enabled his successors to acquit themselves so creditably that Sunday morning outside Santiago Bay when Cervera’s squadron tried to escape that the result afforded us the greatest Fourth of July celebration since Vicksburg surrendered.”

A month later Ensign Middlebrook launched the Veteran Association down well-greased ways, and on May 23 the battalion had its first field day, assembling at Savin Rock. It was reserved for Gunner’s Mate Chapin to make known to Hartford a new method of celebrating the Fourth of July. He navigated a picked gun crew at the close of the midwatch from the armory to the City Hall and at sunrise pumped out a salute of twenty-one shots from the lean throat of a Hotchkiss one-pounder. Irate sleepers admitted that Chapin’s method was convincing. They were justly incensed when he marched the crew under the Asylum Street bridge and fired a like salute, and still more so when he took it to the Park Terrace and discharged a fourteen-shot salute. Chapin proposed to fire a salute in Wethersfield, but ammunition ran low.

COURSE FIVE

THE PRAIRIE AGAIN

That summer’s cruise was on the Prairie and led to Penobscot Bay. The division sent in a whaleboat crew to race against one from the First Division on that water, and its crew defeated that from the Elm City by a quarter of a length, one of the New Haven officers marveling at this result and asserting that it was a mystery of the deep. It also captured two other boat races.

Later in the summer camping parties spent week-ends in Paradise, the narrow strip between Bodkin Rock and the river a short distance below Middletown. The division’s steamboat and the pulling boats which had come a season or two before were in popular favor. They gave silent lessons to the boys in boat engine work and in the stowing of dunnage, thereby adding variety to the oarsmen’s drill of the early spring.

December 22, Lieutenant Parker died at his home in South Lancaster, Mass. mourned by all who knew him. A patriotic officer, a loyal friend, he had won the affection of the command.

One minute prior to midnight December 31, two gun crews unlimbered in the rear of the City Hall and on the dot of midnight, the opening of the new century, Gunner’s Mate Chapin fired the first shot in a salute of twenty-one guns, a welcome to the newborn heir of time.

Century No. Twenty’s first gift to the division was an indoor baseball team. The sport was new to the armory and it jumped (or slid) into instant favor. The first game was with a team from Company A and to the astonishment of everybody and most of all themselves the sailors won, by a score of 17 to 12. They contended with a hurricane of batting in the second inning and dragged anchor, but they weathered the storm and won with an inning to spare. One of the division advocated a diamond of this kind:

Home plate on the forecastle near the foremast, for baseline the starboard foremast shrouds and for first base the foretop; along main topmast stay to second base, the main top-masthead; down main topmast rigging to third base, the main top; then down the mainstay and on to the point of beginning. None of the other teams would play on that diamond.

In a sham battle held in the armory in Governor McLean’s honor the division had a conspicuous part and in the spring the battalion had its field day in the South Meadow. Governor McLean had appointed Mr. Middlebrook to be naval aide on his staff, with the rank of captain, the highest rank which any member has obtained in the Connecticut naval militia, later naval-aides having the rank of lieutenant-commanders.

COURSE SIX

TO CAMP NEWTON

The third anniversary of the mustering in of the battalion at Niantic was observed by an outing at Woodmont, followed by a week-end cruise on the Elfrida, the converted yacht once owned by W. Seward Webb and purchased by the government at the breaking out of the war with Spain. At a banquet in the Pembroke Hotel at Woodmont, General Edward E. Bradley, adjutant-general when the First Division organized, and Senator Joseph R. Hawley were speakers.

Master-at-Arms Murphy trained a volunteer racing cutter crew at intervals in the course of the summer, bitterly lamenting that he never had the same men two evenings running. Still he had men who were fairly proficient when the battalion had its annual tour of duty, at Camp Newton on Fisher’s Island. Tent life was varied by considerable work in pulling boats. It was expected that a cutter race would be rowed between the Hartford racing crew and a crew picked from the New Haven and Bridgeport Division, but the latter did not materialize. That spectators might not be disappointed, two crews were selected from the Hartford oarsmen, Lieutenant Lyman Root acting as coxswain for one and Assistant Surgeon Carroll C. Beach for the other. Mr. Root’s crew was inspired by the presence of Dick, the division’s mascot, a corpulent bulldog with a blue flat cap cocked rakishly over one ear. With one hand on the tiller and the other on the dog’s collar, Mr. Root incited his crew and won by a half-length in a course of half a mile.

For most of the six days rain came down in buckets. The camp work was a practical lesson to the men of the division. That they returned healthy, well disciplined, and contented, as well as much more familiar with duty either afloat or ashore, demonstrated the learning capacity of the men and the value of the camp.

On the return the Elfrida cast off, outside Saybrook Light, a tow consisting of the steam whaleboat and the division’s cutter, its barge and its pulling whaleboat. The “whaler” with the pulling boat in tow started up the river, but a squall descended and gave work to all hands. The crews landed in Essex in torrents, and after making the boats snug for the night, turned in at a sail loft near the landing.

In the autumn the division sustained another severe affliction in the death of its first honorary member, a firm friend in fair weather and foul, Admiral Francis M. Bunce, an officer whom it had been a rare privilege to honor. A veteran of the Civil War, a seasoned sailor, a loyal Hartford man who took pride in his townspeople, the Admiral had richly merited the division’s high esteem. His strong, yet kindly face the men missed and mourned.

In the autumn an order came for a parade in New Haven, and when the personal escort for President Roosevelt was selected, it was found to be the Naval Battalion; and when the parade started it was found that the senior division, the Second, was next to the President’s carriage.

Wall-scaling had a conspicuous part in the drill of the winter, and in the spring small boat work and volunteer work on the Elfrida, the battalion’s practice vessel, were attractions for those most interested in the command. The Elfrida played her part well in the duty of the spring field day of 1902, when the battalion rendezvoused in Bridgeport.

CAMP PARKER

In June of that year a proposition to establish a summer camp took shape and at a meeting a subscription paper was opened and $200 was pledged in about fifteen minutes. A site was selected on the east bank of the river in South Glastonbury and nearly opposite Two Piers. Volunteers cleared the land of brush, assisted in driving a well, hauled lumber and materials up the steep ascent of 115 feet, aided the carpenters, and helped to furnish and arrange camp. They sought and obtained practical experience in cooking and camp life. It was decided to name the camp after the first commander of the division; and to this day the building is known as Camp Parker. The spot was formally dedicated July 4th with speeches and an open-air dinner, at which the building committee in due and ancient form turned the institution over to the division. The house was equipped with hammocks and many a rooky has there learned how to pass a sailor’s night. Many a pleasant Sunday afternoon in midsummer has lured men of the division to the cool piazza with its noble view for many miles in three directions, south, west and north.

COURSE SEVEN

THE PANTHER

In some respects the yearly cruise which started several weeks later was among the most memorable adventures of the division; and when some of the old hands are spinning yarns about what they did when they were young, they like to hark back to the “sham war” and a certain hike across Montauk Point. The most extensive land and sea maneuvers in many years were arranged in Washington for a force of several thousand of the army and for practically all of the fine North Atlantic squadron of that year, of which Admiral Higginson, the captain of the Massachusetts in the Spanish war, was in command.

It was on the auxiliary cruiser Panther that the battalion served. The division boarded the ship in New London harbor. In the course of the service the Panther steamed as far east as Menemsha Bight and as far west as New London, the object of the maneuvers being to test in a practical way the defenses of the eastern entrance of Long Island Sound. At sundown of a Saturday the most powerful fleet to that time assembled in those waters was riding to anchor in the bight, awaiting the passage of the hours before midnight ’ere beginning maneuvers against the string of forts and signal stations scattered all the way from Woods Hole around to Montauk. As night shut down, the signal lamps began their Ardois work. At midnight hoarse orders came from the Panther’s bridge and the rattle of the steam winch and the heavy clank of the cable in the hawse pipe announced that the ship was getting under way.

Sunday found the ship off Block Island and Monday evening found her heading north. Just as the watch off duty was beginning to snore peacefully, the bugle sounded the call for general quarters. In a moment the gun deck lights were switched on and ladders and hatches were choked with men piling to their stations. Masters-at-arms were unceremoniously rousting out rookies from their hammocks. In barely more time that it has taken to write this paragraph the guns were cast loose, ammunition was provided and the big naval bulldog was in fighting trim.

One afternoon the battalion had boat drill. Cutters were lowered and with boat guns working and the landing party armed with rifles there was a pretty bit of excitement. A day later the heavy guns belched at a signal station ashore, which crumbled to theoretic dust. Then the naval militiamen were mustered at division quarters and a day’s ration was issued to each man, a two-pound tin of canned beef to each pair of men and five or ten hard tack (or ship biscuit) to each man and a canteen full of water or coffee, as the man elected. The call came for arm and away boats. With a Colt automatic in the bow of each cutter the party landed, going into extended order, while a detail took possession of the telegraph and the telephone station.

The long line of blue swarmed over a strip of sand and a bit of swale to a knoll. Then began two hours’ hard work. Through wire grass and sand grass, through bushes and brush, across swamp and swale, by farmhouses and barns, alongside lily ponds, the bending blue line advanced, officers pointing the way with swords and squad leaders attempting to keep the files at eight pace intervals.

Following an advance of four miles in such manner the “enemy” was located behind the crest of a steep and high hill. The order for a charge was given and with a yell the men sprinted forward under a heavy shower of fireworks. Ensign Northam was the first up San Juan Hill and it was reported that the historian was the last to reach the summit.

At this juncture the heavens opened and rain came down in buckets. After a quarter of an hour in the downpour the battalion started on the return of four miles. The hike was at route step. At the beach the oarsmen had a stiff pull against wind and tide in boats loaded to the gunwales. But the young salts were in fine spirits and when the order came to “shift to anything dry” it was received as a joke.

The chief boatswain’s mate of the Panther was C. K. Claussen, the Claussen who accompanied Hobson on the Merrimac and was confined in the Spanish prison near Santiago.

At the end of the week, when the Panther left the squadron, her course lay between the Olympia, Dewey’s flagship in the Battle of Manila Bay, and the Brooklyn, Schley’s in the capture of Cervera. To each was given a salute with the bugle and the lining of the rail. The Brooklyn’s band rendered a patriotic air.

In the following fall the division took up target practice in real earnest and at a special shoot in the South Meadow Chief Gunner’s Mate Herbert E. Wiley won the first place. Barely was this function over when it was decided to produce a comic opera and “The Mikado” was selected. This was presented in Parsons’, so well that critics agreed that the division could sing as correctly as it could sail.

In the winter the division tried its fortune again at indoor baseball, with varying results. On one occasion it played an exciting game with Company A, won the game, lost it and won it again, just clearing a lee shore by a score of 19 to 18. On another it defeated the champions of the armory in an eleven-inning contest.

The second annual indoor meet demonstrated that the series had arrived to stay, a fact which each February proves again.

To extend its activities the division sent a picked gun crew on an inland cruise to New Britain to give an exhibition drill.

BOAT CREW AT CHARLES ISLAND

The field day was spent at Charles Island. To still further extend its activities the division crossed afoot from the island at low tide to the mainland.

COURSE EIGHT

AT NIANTIC

Amphibious is the word to apply to the division’s tour of duty that summer. The steam whaleboat, by this time christened “Tillie Hadley,” by her fireman, Gunner’s Mate Arnold, started down the river August 21, 1903, with the three pulling boats in tow, carrying nearly a quarter of the division. The following day the remainder boarded the Elfrida in New Haven harbor, and she with the First Division’s small boats in tow steamed to Crescent Bay. A detail from each division spent eight days afloat and the rest divided their time between Camp Reynolds at the state military rendezvous at Niantic and boat drills in Crescent Bay. The boat work was popular, so much so that in a few days most of the oarsmen were approaching man-o’-war form.

At the end of the duty a storm came along which gave work to militia, the seafaring population and landlubbers. In the New York Herald of the next day it was printed: “Old seafaring men down that way say that they never saw the Sound rougher than it was that night.” A sailboat was washed ashore at White Beach, two small sailing vessels dragged anchor near Niantic, a sloop was wrecked to the southwest of the Crescent Beach landing and a large three-masted schooner dragged anchor.

The Elfrida steamed out of the bay as the storm was breaking, on her way to Sandy Hook and the yacht races with Governor Chamberlain on board. The sou’wester rose into a gale. Seas broke high over the weather rail to fly across the engine room skylight. The officers on the bridge and the quartermaster on watch were soon soaked to the skin in spite of oilskins and pea coats. It was a fierce night and the brave little ship had a nervy tussle with the gale. At 3 o’clock in the morning the Elfrida put into Huntington Bay and dropped anchor, finding that five large steamers were there riding out the night, among them the Tremont of the Joy Line, and the Shinnecock. Stormbound sailing craft were also in the bay.

Soon after the hook went down it was found to be dragging, then the ship was taken farther inshore and both starboard and port anchors were let drop, with a good length of cable.

Later a distress sign was sighted on a yacht out in the open water. A volunteer boat crew pulled out and found the vessel to be the schooner Rosina, from New Haven, owned by an amateur who had a sailing master, three women and a cook on board. The owner seasick, the sailing master called the cook for a moment to the wheel, while he stepped down into the cabin for a chart. The cook lost his head and, while in the wind, the schooner’s main-topmast snapped and her fore-topsail carried away. The rescuing boat crew found the women hysterical and with life preservers adjusted. The men from the Elfrida cleared away the wreckage.

Early in the fall the division entertained members of H Company, Naval Brigade, M. V. M., of Springfield, at Camp Parker with an old-time shore clambake. The camp had become increasingly popular and for a number of years nearly every Saturday or Sunday afternoon in midsummer attracted division men to the place, and in “whites” the boys kept busy making things snug in the galley or policing the grounds or taking a spin in a pulling boat below.

November 18 brought an extraordinary spectacle—a book bee. At our bell in the first watch, Librarian Palmer and Jack-o’-the-Shelf McDonald broke out their accessioning system and the smoking lamp was lighted. The books given made a startling list. Tolstoy’s “Resurrection” was found sandwiched between “Alice in Wonderland” and a volume of Lighthouse Reports. General Miles, Kipling, Morgan Robertson and Roosevelt were popular authors. This is history, not romance. An entertainment followed the book bee. Clog dancing on the foc’s’le head, nautical songs, selections on cordage and dead eyes by a banjo quintet and a sword dance by Coxswain Watson made up the backbone of the evening. It was seven bells when the rejoicing ceased and the merrymakers heaved out of the armory, all on soundings and under easy canvas, except the supposed contributor of “Resurrection,” who scudded away under a double-reefed fore-topsail.

The indoor meet of the next February sustained the division’s reputation. By this time the annual mid-winter tourney had become known all over Connecticut. The referees in the series have included such gentlemen as President Luther of Trinity College and Former Lieutenant-Governor Lake.

A month later the division was entertained by H Company of Springfield in the Highland Hotel in that city, where the company was observing its eleventh anniversary.

In June (June 19, 1904) the Elfrida came over Saybrook Bar with Lieutenant Lyman Root in command. She was navigated up the river by members of the division and came to anchor opposite the foot of Ferry Street. Three days later, a brilliant reception was given on board her to Governor Chamberlain. She was dressed fore and aft and from water’s edge to water’s edge. In the illumination 248 Japanese lanterns were included. Many military officers were present in full dress uniform.

The following morning the division paraded to the foot of Ferry Street, embarking and escorting the governor and Former Governor Morgan G. Bulkeley, an honorary member of the division, to East Haddam, there to attend the dedication of a monument to Major-General Joseph Spencer of Revolutionary War fame.

Three days later a hard-working and loyal graduate of the division, Ensign William G. Hinckley, assistant engineer, received his commission as lieutenant and chief engineer. Efficient, loyal and popular, Mr. Hinckley received numerous congratulations of his well-earned promotion.

The range of the division’s energy is proved when it is chronicled that July 27, the clubhouse committee carried out a moonlight sail down the river. It was considerately promulgated in the committee’s circular: “State exact number of ladies you intend bringing. Chaperons will be in attendance.”

COURSE NINE

THE HARTFORD

FURLING SAIL ON THE U. S. S. HARTFORD

The yearly cruise of 1904 was on Farragut langsyne flagship, the Hartford, relic of the battle of Mobile Bay. It was as interesting as any which the division has ever taken, barring, perhaps, that on the Panther. When station billets were issued even the old hands volleyed questions at their running mates of the regular crew. Here is the start of a typical station billet:

Form No. 10.—Bur. Navigation.
Watch No. 126	U. S. S. Hartford.
Name,	Rate, Cox.
Div. 2d.	Gun, No. 8, 5–inch.
Armed boat, 3d cutter. Running boat, 3d cutter. Abandon ship, 3d cutter.
Fire quarters, close ports, No. 8 5–inch gun.

That was easy enough, even for a rooky. But what do you know about this?

EVOLUTION.

Loosing sail.

Furling sail.

Up and down topgallant and royal yards.

Up and down topgallant masts.

Making sail and getting underway.

Tacking and wearing.

Reef topsails.

Shorten sail and come to anchor.

STATIONS AND DUTIES.

Loose topgallant sail.

Furl topgallant sail.

Topmast crosstrees to rig upper topgallant yardarm, etc.

Topmast crosstrees, reeve and unreeve mast rope, fid and unfid, etc.

Loose topgallant sail, then on deck to halliards.

Overhaul foresheet and shorten in, man maintop bowlines, main and fore tacks.

Man topsail bunt lines, then halliards.

Let go topgallant halliards, man topsail clew lines, veer and stopper cables.

It was a novelty to nearly all of the division, bringing back the old days of heave and haul. The regulars were husky men with legs like barrels and arms like blacksmiths’, nearly every one raw material for a football player or anchor of a tug-of-war team. Bosn’s mates were weather-beaten salts with faces like teakwood, seamed by the suns and snows of the seven seas, tanned tar-mequicks with chests like hair mattresses. One barnacle in the port watch had a voice as rasping as a nutmeg grater. You might have imagined that he was born in Lat. 2, North, Long. 2, West, and that he learned to creep on the lee side of the foc’s’le. When he shrilled out a pipe with a chaser like the growl of distant thunder a nippous rooky from the Tenth Ward asked in blank amazement:

“What in heaven did that fellow say?”

“One man from each part of the ship coal the first steamer,” was the reply.

Some of the best boat work which the division has ever done was performed on this cruise. This is true not only in the line of oarsmanship, but also in the securing of boats for sea and for port.

The duty took the division up Sound to Huntington Bay, then east to Gardiner’s Bay, thence over to New London and finally back to New Haven harbor. The men had a welcome convenience in the line of large lockers. They took much interest in the apprentices, frolicsome little fellows then from the training station who had school each morning at a mess table on the starboard side of the gun deck near a frowning five-inch gun with its glittering brass and its oiled steel.

The boys were poring over their books and papers in very much the same way that lads in the seventh and eighth grades in the Second North or the West Middle schools are poring (perhaps more so), over arithmetic. In the instruction of the class the chaplain was using some of the books which citizens of Hartford gave to the ship’s library in 1899 at the suggestion of Admiral Bunce.

Most important among the events of the early part of the ensuing drill season was the election of Lieutenant Lyman Root to be navigator of the battalion to succeed Lieutenant Robert E. L. Hutchinson, promoted to be lieutenant-commander and in turn succeeding Lieutenant-Commander Frank S. Cornwell, promoted to be commander of the battalion, vice Commander Averill, retired. In his capacity as chief of the division, Mr. Root had shown exceptional versatility, having been successful in the social and athletic lines, as well as in drill and discipline. At the next drill evening he took formal farewell of the division which he had so long and so ably and so considerately commanded, giving generously of his best energy and most faithful loyalty. He had taken the helm when the command was little better than a wreck, had nursed it back to health and prosperity and made it the finest military company in all Hartford. In fair weather and foul weather, in joy and sorrow, on soundings and off soundings, his steadying hand had been at the wheel and had time and again brought the division safe into port. Strong and clear purpose, affection for the command and for salt water,—these were our chief’s dominant traits. The ability to read character was another quality. But of these three characteristics his affection for the division stood ever foremost.

LIEUTENANT HOWARD J. BLOOMER

Captain Howard J. Bloomer came over from the infantry to act as next lieutenant of the division, not the least of the prerogatives being the privilege of presiding as toastmaster at the yearly banquet. On the menu card was a huitrain re-rigged from Coxswain John Kendrick Bangs so as to read:

Oh, Navy Plug, Ottoman, Alonzo,

Puritan Boy, Especial, H. Clay,

Invincible, Rosedale, Alphonso,

Soby’s Best, German Lovers, El Rey,

Elegantes, Re-ina, Selectos,

Oh, Two-For, Madura, Grandé,

Shoe Pegs, Oscuro, Perfectos—

You drive all my sorrows away.

A floral bell nearly as large as the foretop was lifted and revealed an elegant silver loving cup presented to Mr. Root as testimony to their high esteem. A little later followed the elevation of Mr. Root to the rank of lieutenant-commander of the battalion.

COURSE TEN

THE COLUMBIA

Sail drill was the feature of the cruise on the Hartford in 1904 and in the following year drill in small boats was the feature. On the training ship the boats usually hung outside the rail, but on the cruiser the boats were frequently kept inside the rail. With the ship’s four funnels and her multitudinous skylights and deckhouses her superstructure was unsuitable for “setting up.”

A series of tug-of-war pulls enlivened the trip. The New Haven division won from Bridgeport and Hartford from New Haven. Thus it was for the Hartford team to pull the ship’s team. This contest came and to the astonishment of all, the Hartford men won. And so it was that when the division returned half of the lads were hoarse.

Bugler L. Wayne Adams was in high feather during the trip. He had memorized the calls and sounded them accurately. By virtue of his high office he was excused from previous service as messman; for much of the cruise he was a man of elegant leisure. On his return to Wethersfield, residents of Jordan Lane and the Nail Keg Club at Hanmer’s grocery heard many a fine yarn, spun in Wayne’s best style.

The old rifle range in the South Meadow was discontinued, owing to the increased range and power of the rifles just introduced into the Connecticut National Guard. In consequence the division’s fall target practice was conducted over the range in South Manchester. Acting as a marker, Landsman Hill was hit by a deflected bullet, which was found later in his shoe. Hill was taken to the Hartford Hospital.

Following the indoor meet, given successfully, of course, the division began to prepare to celebrate its tenth anniversary. The banquet was held in the Hartford Club. In the blue uniform the men of the division attending mustered for entry into the dining room, to the strains of a march. A dismounted signal gun of old-time size from the Dauntless rested at the center of the head table, flanked by two silver cups, trophies won by athletic teams from the division. Knife bayonets of the new kind rested on the cups. Two stacks of rifles afforded resting-place for the division’s colors.

The menu cards contained the following:

“Such a deal of skimble, skamble stuff

As puts me from my faith.”

Henry iv.

“A page where men

May read strange matters.”

Macbeth.

X Home Port Routine X

Call All Hands

Heave Anchor to Short Stay Serve Grog Stand by for a Blow

Up and Down

Port Marine Growth Bleached Starboard

Hot Suds Served Forward on Turtle Deck

Bony Walks the Plank to the Wake

Dutch Sea Apples Sliced Irish Torpedoes

Cascarets

“Damn the Torpedoes! Go Ahead”

Sea Cow off Madeira

Spud Chippies Burnside Bullets

Bumboat Along Side, Sir

Lyman Root Punch

Fruit Scouse

Vesuvius Ice “Up all——”

Pass to Leeward

Roquefort and Club

Black Jack

“Divine in hookas, glorious in pipe.

When tipped in amber, mellow, rich, and ripe

Like other charmers, wooing the caress

Most dazzlingly when daring In full dress,

Yet thy true lovers more admire by far

Thy naked beauties—Give me a cigar!”

Boatswain’s Mate Byron, “The Island,” II.

Two hours were passed “Off Yarnland.” Governor Roberts brought the division men to their feet when he told them that he intended to order out the battalion when the presentation took place of the silver service voted by the General Assembly for the new battleship Connecticut. Senator Bulkeley told the familiar and always stirring story of Admiral Bunce’s splendid work in taking a monitor around Cape Horn.

LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER ROBERT D. CHAPIN

In the early spring Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Robert D. Chapin succeeded to the command of the division. In the nine years he had been in the division he had ascended the ladder, round by round, as seaman, coxswain, gunner’s mate, second and first class, and boatswain’s mate, first class. He had served on about every brand of standing committee which the organization had utilized. Later he was appointed naval aide with the rank of lieutenant-commander.

Again in the early summer a racing crew was essayed, with Boatswain’s Mate Hogan in charge of the training, the course extending from an imaginary line off the old pumping station below Riverside Park to a point off the East Hartford bank about a quarter of a mile above the railroad bridge. Training was punctuated by swims and dives from a spring plank in the meadow bank a short distance from the bridge.

COURSE ELEVEN

THE MINNEAPOLIS

Mr. Chapin’s cruise was on the Minneapolis, sister ship to the Columbia, and it started on August 25, 1906, from New Haven harbor. The ship steamed down the Sound and by Race Rock Light and anchored off Block Island in the evening with the port anchor, in seventeen fathoms, sixty fathoms of chain out. A protected cruiser, the Minneapolis did not rate a band, but she carried one till the Dolphin came along and commandeered the musicians. The next day the ship steamed out to sea for a hundred miles and then after a diversity of courses came to anchor in Menemsha Bight. Target practice, while the Minneapolis was steaming at a rate of ten knots, made one afternoon’s work. In it the division’s team struck hard times, but in the signal contest later the division redeemed itself, Quartermaster Palmer being an easy first among the signal force of the battalion in the Ardois branch and Quartermaster Ferris making an especially fine showing with the semaphore work. The division has for several years been strong in the signal branch.

When Governor Woodruff chose a naval aide it was Mr. Chapin who was selected for that high honor, and when the next commanding officer of the Second was nominated, Dr. Beach moved up to a lieutenant’s stripes. Beginning in the ranks Dr. Beach went upon the staff as assistant surgeon and then back to the Second as ensign.

For a number of years the division had combined with other commands in the Elm Street Armory to attend an annual military service in a Hartford church, but in the following December it decided to attend a separate or sailors’ service, and the church of the Rev. Dr. Main was selected. It is a question why this was chosen, but a legend has it that the choice was on account of the nautical hint in the pastor’s name and that in the denomination, the Baptist. In a sermon on intelligent patriotism Dr. Main interspersed a number of sailorlike yarns to illustrate several points. He told the story about Nelson’s disregard of Parker’s signal at the battle of Copenhagen; and that of John Paul Jones’s answer in the fight with the Serapis.

LIEUTENANT CARROLL C. BEACH

One of the most loyal and faithful members the division ever included had enlisted a short time before in the United States Navy, Seaman John J. A. Connor, and was now on the battleship Connecticut on the always memorable trip around the world, bombarding friends with welcome post cards.

The eleventh anniversary banquet was enjoyed in the Hotel Garde in conjunction with Admiral Bunce Section, Navy League of the United States. Admiral Caspar F. Goodrich told about his personal interest in the Naval Militia, an adjunct necessary to the Navy, as he declared, and Corporation Counsel Arthur L. Shipman talked as an attorney to the gathering, telling about the influence of the navy in Guam and Samoa, where the Navy was still administering the government.

COURSE TWELVE

AGAIN THE PRAIRIE

Space has been economized for the chronicling of the next cruise, a trip on our old friend the Prairie to Hampton Roads. For several seasons the naval militiamen had prospered with running mates from the regulars, but for a reason to be made evident in the next sentence the pair-off system was not pursued this time. The Prairie had a skeleton crew of 145 and the battalion numbered about fifty above those figures. The start for the run down the coast was made by way of Montauk Point, rounding which the Prairie put her helm over for the first long leg on a course of S. 58 degrees W. Early in the evening the wind began rising and old hands watched the rookies for symptoms of internal disturbance. The journey down was a welcome innovation and the passing of Five-Fathom Bank Lightship and of Winter Quarter Lightship were events. When the Cape Charles Lightship came abeam the Prairie went on various courses until she dropped anchor off the Chamberlin Hotel at Old Point Comfort. During a part of the run soundings were made by the Thompson sounding machine, a method that had been studied in former cruises, but with less interest than on this. The Jamestown ter-centenary was in progress that summer and liberty to an unusual extent was allowed to the battalion. One afternoon about fifty members of the division visited the Connecticut building at the exposition. Most of them signed their names in the register, Boatswain’s Mate Perkins at first directing the writing class and, when he tired, another petty officer relieving him. It was with joy nearly equal to signing the pay roll that the sailors affixed their signatures. Manager Curtis greeted the men with a graceful courtesy rivalled only by Commissioner Barber’s graceful urbanity. Maps of the exposition grounds were served out. By using these and keeping the lead going and working their jaw tackle, the men made shift to reach proper destinations.

LIEUTENANT (JUNIOR GRADE) CHARLES L. HOGAN

The same afternoon the men gravitated to a military carnival on the parade. An impression prevailed in the division that the division’s tug-of-war team could have outpulled the team which won in the carnival.

In years gone by cruise clubs had been launched, for instance the Ham-Bone Club at Fort Wright and the Fore-Top on the Hartford. In Jamestown the Kimona Club was organized with Lieutenant Hinckley at its head. It consisted of a president, a vice-president, a secretary and a chancellor of the exchequer, with an understudy for each.

On another afternoon Commissioner Barber made his return call. He witnessed hammock and dunnage bag inspection, a “ceremony” which our men loved as cordially as the devil loves holy water. He saw, also, Underwood typewriters in the paymaster’s office and rejoiced at the use of a Hartford product.

In the fall information came that the Elfrida was to leave Connecticut waters and that the unarmored gunboat Machias was to take her place as the battalion’s practice ship. The new ship was built in Bath, Me., in 1892. She is of steel, has two masts. Her length is 204 feet, her beam 32 feet, her mean draft 12 feet, her displacement 1,777 tons, her net tonnage 398, her speed 15½ knots and her horse power 1,484. She has accommodations for nine officers and about 132 men, or about six times as many men as the Elfrida could sleep.

A Christmas tree in the division parlor brought joy to all hands and astonishment to not a few. It was accompanied by an innocuous punch of pink tea caliber, followed by Mother Carey sandwiches, saltpeter and frozen rating badges (Neapolitan ice cream). Skylights were closed, all glims were doused and current was turned on for small electric lamps in a hemlock, which had been decorated with marlinspikes, rope yarns, and cornucopias. Lieutenant (Junior Grade) James A. Evans, rigged gaily as Santa Claus, served out gifts from the break of the quarter deck, assisted by Boatswain’s Mates Perkins and Wyllie and Gunner’s Mate Dickerman. Mr. Hinckley received a miniature Tillie Hadley. Mr. Hogan was presented with a milk wagon. To Seaman Barnes was given a rake. Gunner’s Mate Dickerman, who held the championship of the fleet at the deck game of bowling, was helped to a children’s set of tenpins. Quartermaster Palmer, impressario of the Banzai orchestra, drew an accordion. A village character in the company received an allowance of jaw tackle. A certain apprentice seaman was the recipient of a “hammock ladder,” which dates back to the berth deck of Father Noah’s Ark.

March 17, 1908, an order was issued from the adjutant-general’s office marking the passing of the “battalion.” The official title of the force was changed to Naval Militia, Connecticut National Guard. Ratings were officially prescribed, those of the first class in the division being the following: Master-at-arms, boatswain’s mate, gunner’s mate, machinist’s mate and water-tender.

May 21 the Tillie Hadley was taken to Saybrook and exchanged for the First Division’s steam cutter. Later the Tillie went to the New York Navy Yard. The departure of the old steam whaleboat marked the passing of one of the company’s time-honored institutions. The boat’s successor is variously known as the Hallie Tidley and the Merry Widow.

The observance of a division memorial day began this year, actives and veterans assembling at noon, May 30th, for a service, and parading in the afternoon as part of the escort to the Grand Army of the Republic.

In midsummer a movement came to reorganize the Veteran Association. A meeting was held July 24th and the project advanced at a second meeting held a week later, when the matter of participating in the approaching dedication of Hartford Bridge was discussed. Former Ensign Fred E. Bosworth was chief oiler of the machinery.

COURSE THIRTEEN

AND AGAIN THE PRAIRIE

Once more it was on the Prairie that the company cruised. It was the fourth time, once to Bar Harbor, once to Penobscot Bay, and once to Hampton Roads. So often has the ship been the company’s floating home, that long-service members are more familiar with her than with any other ship in the Navy, unless it be the Machias.

With the company were men from naval militia in New York City and Brooklyn, congenial companions, with more of naval wardrobe than the Second Division showed. The cruise was mostly in the Sound. The ship was engaged in squadron maneuvers.

A flotilla of six torpedo boats accompanied the squadron, as did also four submarines. Boats of this kind were in 1908 comparatively new to many in the company, and when Ensign Hogan found an opportunity to make a descent in a submarine he embraced it.

Back in Hartford the men grew busy in preparing for the Bridge Dedication, the most important festivity which the city has ever conducted, to which the command voted to invite its old nautical guest, H Company of Springfield, down.

The dedication opened October 6 with the firing of a salute, by the division, of course. In the evening the division paraded in a historical pageant, the men representing men-o’-wars men of the conflict of 1812.

The battalion paraded in the giant military procession of October 8 as a landing party, marching in white hats, and being among the warmest favorites in the long column. In the afternoon it banqueted in the Y. M. C. A. with H Company men, for whom the division’s poet laureate had evolved a lyric, of which the following is a specimen verse:

“When dinner’s o’er, we then will go, then will go, then will go,

When dinner’s o’er, we then will go, to East Hartford’s sandy shore.”

While the company was beating up Pearl Street, an automobilist rammed the hospital apprentice, an incident which developed an aftermath in the superior court when with a former Philippine soldier, Sergeant Benedict Holden, as attorney and counselor and proctor in admiralty, McIntyre got a verdict. In his argument Sergeant Holden commended the division as a patriotic command in which the city might well take pride.