Out of the Briars / An Autobiography and Sketch of the Twenty-ninth Regiment Connecticut Volunteers

by A. H. Newton

It was not a hard matter for us to sleep the first night. We spread our rubber blankets on the bare ground and enjoyed our rest as much as if our beds had been made of feathers. The next morning we saw the body of a man floating down the muddy river. He too had evidently met with some accident, or had been killed and thrown into the river. It was not our duty to make any investigation.

I prepared the best breakfast possible for the boys. Our fuel was gathered from the woods and rail fences. I said woods, but unfortunately there was not a tree in the whole country, so we had to do the best we could. But we had coffee, rice, sweet potatoes and our regular rations. We put up our tents here and soon had the camp under military discipline. Then we left for Brownsville, Texas, a distance of twenty miles. The march was a trying one on account of the bad roads. We were not able to keep our stores with us on this account and left a detail of soldiers to guard them. Many a solder sickened and had to be taken to White Ranch to be cared for by Orderly Hill. Some of the men died on the way and were buried under the Texas sod with no stone to identify them. One boat was on its way to Brownsville with rations. I remember my homesickness at this time. After the battles had been fought, I was anxious to return to my loved ones. I felt that my duty had been done towards my country and that now I must take up my duty to my dear ones. We were soon joined by Orderly Hill. He said that he had gotten tired waiting for the boat and had come on to be with us. He threw a few chunks together and started a fire and lighted his pipe. After a few moments reflection, he said: “These light afflictions are but for a moment, for they work for us a far more and exceeding weight of glory.” We met a drove of hungry wolves which made two or three attempts to come to us, but about fifteen shots from our guns were enough to satisfy them they had no more need of us than we had of them. In time we reached Brownsville. We saw strange things there. The houses were little huts; the people dressed in their shirts and drawers; the women dressed in a long shirt with their breast exposed, seemingly caring nothing for decency or modesty. It did not look to me that the people here had ever known what it was to know or to serve the true and living God. They were certainly far from any such practical knowledge, judging from their daily lives. I thought “If the righteous scarcely be saved where then shall the sinner and the ungodly appear?” The next morning I was not feeling well. I went to one of the streams and bathed. There were plenty of lizards, frogs and horned toads about. The horns of the toad reminded one of the horns of a goat. It was a place of trials. Some of the men swore and cursed, others were kept too busy scratching, while others were praying. It was a time of sore trials. One of our officers, Captain Clark ought to have been with the Greys instead of the Blues, he had so little use for the Colored troops. So he marched them almost to death on this march. Colonel Wooster, a man of tender feeling and of a proper sense of right and justice and without prejudice against the Colored people, saw the outrage perpetrated against us and put Clark under arrest. He was kept there until Colonel Wooster resigned. After he left, we were again under the command of Captain Clark. Orderly Hill was very sick and was ordered to the General Hospital. As I looked upon him I said to myself, Hill you are a very sick man and your warfare is about ended. There were about seven hundred in the hospital sick. They were treated as if they had been brutes, doctors and nurses being without any feeling. They were dying at the rate of ten a day. The stewards would search the dead, take their valuables, then report them dead. What a contrast between our camp on the banks of the James River and the camp in this far off, God-for-saken town of Brownsville, Texas.

And now after all our hard fought battles, our fears and foreboding, our privations and losses, we received the news from the War Department that the Twenty-ninth Regiment was ordered home. It is needless to say, that the home-fever spread more rapidly than any fever that had ever prevailed in our ranks. We looked for and patiently awaited the day when we would be ordered out. On the fourteenth day of October, 1865, at nine o’clock a. m., the recruiting officer was on the ground, at which time Company K. was mustered out. We were escorted through Brownsville by the Ninth U. S. C. T., Colonel Bailey being in command. We marched to an open field where the two regiments bid each other goodbye. It was an impressive scene, for these regiments had shared each others fortunes and misfortunes through the war. They had become inseparable, but now the best of friends must part. How happy we were that we should be permitted to breathe the fresh air again and to tramp through the country as free men. Yet I had the feeling that the Civil War was the mighty struggle of the White Race and that the struggle of the Colored Race was yet in the future. There is such a thing as a man having to work out of his own salvation, and this is also true of a race. Our salvation had been bought for us by the nation, but it is ours now to work out this salvation. As we marched out through the grand country and these thoughts came to me, I cried out to God, “Can these dry bones live? Will this country give the Colored man an equal chance in the marts of trade, in industrial fields, and in the professions? He is yet untried in the ranks of an aggressive civilization, for he has been a slave. Can these dry bones live?” These were the prayer-thoughts that were filling my mind and heart. Our march was a trying one on account of the bad condition of the roads, but we were going home. No one but the soldier who has been honorably discharged after an issue has been settled, knows the joys that well-up in the heart as he turns his face homeward. The feeling is indescribable. There were several boys sick, but their spirits were revived on account of home-going. We soon reached Brazos where we spent the night. I was very glad to say goodbye to my Texas friends and experience. They could live on the sandy plains of Brownsville, as long as they pleased; they could eat the strips of dried goat meat until they were satisfied; they could drink and relish the muddy water of the Rio Grande considering it the best water in the world; but as for me, I would choose other quarters. Now that the Confederacy had surrendered, now that the Palmetto flag had been lowered forever and Old Glory floated in its stead, now that millions of people were made free and could live and think as real men and women, I was more than happy to say goodbye to all these things and begin life anew.

We embarked on the transport Alabama, for New Orleans. Our voyage on the gulf was a rough one on account of a heavy storm. We were forced to cast anchor. We passed Galveston and were much pleased with the place. We found the citizens much more sociable than we had expected, for we knew that they were Secessionists and Rebels and that they had about as much use for Negro soldiers as the Devil has for Holy Water. Nevertheless, we went through the town and made the acquaintance of some of our brethren. We met an old lady who had been a slave. When she saw us and realized that the victorious end had come, she cried at the top of her voice. “The Lord, the Mighty One has conquered and we are all free! Glory to God!” We took on wood and I regulated my rations for we were four hundred and fifty miles from New Orleans. We were again on board the transport for New Orleans, but we were unable to leave the harbor on account of a fearful gale that swept the gulf. We made an attempt, but were forced back again into the harbor. The soldiers became quite unruly owing to their impatience and also, I suppose the feeling that they could do as they pleased. After a hard voyage we landed safely in New Orleans. We found an open lot in the south side of the city and put up our tents and made ready for a good night’s sleep. We felt that we could sleep now. That we had taken part in a mighty conflict and had shared in the victories of the war, it was now our right to rest. It was the sleep of the just man.

We had a quiet Sunday in New Orleans. Our chaplain preached for us. Great crowds came out to visit us and to give us their most hearty congratulations. They gave us coffee, sandwiches, fruits, etc., in token of the appreciation of our services in their behalf. We saw strange things in New Orleans. We found the mixture of French and Negro, called the Creole, speaking a dialect of the French. We found the Octoroon and that some of these unions had from one to seven children. We found that marriage among them was rather an uncommon thing and that a man could establish almost any relationship that pleased him and enter into the Creole life and be received and welcomed as one of them. We found that they drank more claret, champagne, whisky, beer, etc., than they did water. They of course had no sense of their obligation to God and I suppose that many of them really had no conception of the Real and True God. Their lives gave no evidence of such a knowledge.

The first annual conference of the A. M. E. Church was being held by Bishop J. P. Campbell. We enjoyed the services very much being in the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. We were in New Orleans two weeks. At the end of this time one of the men was shot. This created quite an excitement among us. We broke camp soon and marched through the streets to the wharf where we took ship. We were enthusiastically greeted on every hand, receiving god-speeds and congratulations and blessings. I shall never forget the musical voices of the people as they sang. The music sounded like a thousand silver harps, so soft and delicate and stirring it was! We went on board the steamer Champion. We said goodbye to the old city of New Orleans and to many of the new friends which we had made. We had a heavy sea. The storms were terrific. Our clothes were almost continuously wet owing to the rocking of the vessel, for days it was impossible to find a place to sleep. The voyage was quite rough all the way to New York. At last we arrived at New York City. It was morning. We remained on board until about two p. m., when we left the boat and marched through the principal streets, receiving cheers and salutes. We had not forgotten our former experiences here however. And we were inwardly revolving the thought that as Black men we had done our part in bringing about a change of sentiment that would make a new city out of New York and every other city in the Union. And we felt that it was but just that we should receive some of the plaudits of praise and reward. When we passed down Broadway in front of the St. Nicholas Hotel, the flags of the Nation and of the state were suddenly hoisted by a Colored man and we gave three lusty cheers for the flag and country and home. At last the orders came to fall into line for our final trip. We marched to pier twenty eight East River where the steamer, Granite State, was waiting to carry us to Hartford, Conn. The distance was about one hundred and fifty miles. We were cheered by every town and village that we passed. We arrived at Hartford and were escorted to the camp grounds and tendered a fine reception by the citizens, a most pleasing welcome.

At eight o’clock one morning we were paid off, all but one hundred dollars bounty which was to be paid at some future date. Some went to their homes, others remained in Hartford, until they had spent all their money and were locked up in the prisons by the police officers. After having cleared up my commissary department and turning over my books and papers to the proper custodian, and having said farewell to my comrades, I took a midnight train for my home in New Haven.

The occasion of my sudden departure from Hartford is very interesting. One of our soldiers was passing a Jew store. He was begged to go in and buy a suit. He got the suit of clothes and walked out without paying for it. The soldier came into camp and soon the Jew followed. I would not allow him to enter camp and arrest the soldier. Not long afterward, I went down town and the Jew had me arrested and locked up. I was in jail until about midnight when some of my friends liberated me. Immediately I made my way to the station and left Hartford. I do not know that the Jew got his money and I was not much concerned.

I arrived at home at seven o’clock in the morning and found my wife and children, my father and mother, ready to give me the most hearty welcome and greeting which I received with a glad heart. I was not seen out of my house for about three weeks. I simply wanted to rest and to drink in the joys that were awaiting me. Then I went to Brooklyn, my wife’s home, and registered as a citizen of the United States. I again thanked God that the war was over and that slavery was dead. “Now unto Him that hath loved us and washed us from our sins in His blood, to Him be glory and dominion and power, now and forevermore. Amen!”