The island of Hilton Head was very rich and fertile; the cotton fields were ripe, waiting for the second picking. The palmetto tree was green and the air as balmy as June. Sweet potatoes were plenty, to be had for the digging. Every building near the fort was riddled by our shells, while the tents were torn into shreds. Our surgeons provided for the wounded as well as they could with the means at hand. Many of the dead were literally torn to atoms, and some were half buried where they fell; guns were dismounted, army wagons smashed, and many fine horses and mules lay in heaps. During the bombardment, a rebel gunner, wearing a red shirt, was noticed by our fleet to occupy a very prominent
position on the parapet, and was seen to pat his gun every time he fired it, and we found one arm with a piece of red flannel upon it near the gun, which seemed to be all that was left of him; he was evidently blown to atoms. Those who succeeded in getting away alive must have beat a hasty retreat, for knapsacks, blankets and rifles lay in confusion all around, and were found at almost every step for miles through the woods. The armament of the fort was 22 heavy guns, most of which were rifled and of the most approved pattern; and two heavy globe-sight rifled cannon, the gift of some neutral English friends to the Confederate States.
For a short time Uncle Sam’s rations were at a discount, as the trophies of war in live stock seemed abundant. Pigs were roaming at will, only to be confiscated by a soldier; chickens and geese were found in large numbers, and we regaled our palates with sweet potatoes, sugar cane, roast pig and broiled chickens. The commissary stores of the rebels were probably larger at this time than during the latter days of the confederacy. But after a while of sumptuous living, we were obliged to fall back on our regular salt junk and hard tack.
After the stars and stripes, the State flag of Connecticut was the first to wave over South Carolina soil, and the Connecticut troops made the first advance into the interior. 120 head of beef cattle, numerous porkers,
large quantities of chickens and other fowls were brought in from the adjoining plantations in the days that followed, but these latter captures had to be turned over to the Quartermaster, except occasionally some fowl or porker that was slyly appropriated by a soldier for a “side dish” to accompany the junk and tack. We made frequent skirmishes over the island, but the foe had departed and the negroes were the sole occupants of the homes of their masters. The groves of orange trees at Seabrook’s plantation were very fragrant, and the ripe fruit was quickly disposed of as contraband of war. We scouted out to the plantation owned by one Graham, which was about five miles from Hilton Head. There we found quite a village of negroes, who seemed pleased to see the “Yankees,” as they termed us; and on our inquiry as to the whereabouts of their masters, their reply was, “I dunno, massa; dun gone for true dis time; spect him a right smart way off.” The plantation of “Squire Pope,” as the negroes called him, was a lovely place, indeed. The fine old southern mansion was situated in a large grove of live oak trees, with ample grounds neatly fenced. Large groves of orange trees, whose fragrance filled the air and gave evidence of the home of contentment and wealth, but the occupants had fled and left their household goods to the mercy of the soldiers. Two spacious libraries were in the house, filled with books. Heavy plate
glass mirrors and fine oil paintings adorned the walls, which, together with the rich furniture, made the place seem too good to be destroyed by the ruthless hand of war.
Our forces were busily engaged in unloading the transports of their cargoes; piles of lumber were brought ashore and three large storehouses were erected on the island to hold Uncle Sam’s rations; and everything indicated that Uncle Sam was to hold possession. Wheelbarrows, pickaxes and shovels were numerous, and we soon learned their use. A long line of earthworks was thrown up by the troops for protection from any advance that might be made. While we remained at Hilton Head we became very proficient with the shovel and pick, and for a time our rifles became rusty; but the same could not be said of our shovels.
The early months of winter, 1862-3, the Sixth remained on the island, perfecting themselves in drill and awaiting orders; and the 20th of January found us with orders to embark on a secret expedition under Gen. Wright. We were hurried aboard of the steamer Cosmopolitan, a boat much too small to accommodate our regiment; but we were informed that our stay aboard would be of brief duration—perhaps only a day or two would elapse before we should land. We accepted the situation, as it all made up the three years of a soldier’s life. A storm set in and
kept the fleet in the harbor for nearly a week; after which we weighed anchor and dropped down to Warsaw Sound, Ga., with the idea of avoiding Fort Pulaski and capturing Savannah by the way of an inlet. A long experiment was made by our gunboats, while the transports with the troops lay in Warsaw Sound. Commodore Tatnall, of the rebel navy, with his “mosquito fleet,” as it was named, made several assaults on our gunboats, but was invariably compelled to withdraw without any advantage gained. Our condition on shipboard was deplorable; so cramped were we for room that when we lay on the decks at night one could not walk among the sleeping forms without stepping on a soldier. For sixteen days we were fed on salt pork and beef, and no vegetables, with hard tack that was full of vermin, and water that had been put in kerosene oil barrels three months before. The water was so thick in one barrel that the writer saw, it could be lifted up on the finger. It was so nauseating and foul that when poured into the sea, the water was discolored by it. We had no water to cleanse our bodies, save what the sea afforded, and salt water without soap is not very good to cleanse with. Dirt and filth prevailed to an alarming extent, and “gray-backs,” as the boys called them, accumulated upon our bodies in a fearful manner. As one Dutchman expressed it, he had lice so big, “shust like wheat.”
None were exempt from these pests, from the Colonel down. So alarming was our condition that the whole brigade was ordered ashore that we might bathe and wash our clothes while the boats were fumigated. Scarcely had we landed ere the whole beach presented a ludicrous appearance—a sight of which a “special artist” might envy—that of a brigade of soldiers stripped to the waist, picking off these vermin. We remained ashore one day and then returned to our old quarters on board the ship, and in a short time were as filthy as ever. Severe sickness in the form of “spotted fever” broke out in the ranks of the Sixth in consequence, and became so aggravating that there was an average of four or five deaths daily. Large strong men were attacked in the morning and before night were dead. It baffled the skill of our surgeons, who worked with untiring zeal to break up this dread malady. Death seemed near at hand; and to pass away by a foul disease contracted by being kept amid such filth was hard to contemplate. All expressed a desire rather to face all the guns of the rebel army than to meet death in this manner.