pour shell enough into Wagner to start several first class iron foundries. Shot and shell crashed above and within it and we wondered if half of them accomplished their mission. Before night came, hardly a gun boomed from Wagner, and many seemed to think an easy victory was within reach. As twilight approached the whole command lay under cover of the sand hills, waiting for the order to advance. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts (colored regiment) were given the post of honor, the right of the first brigade, which position belonged to the Sixth; but at the request of Col. Shaw of the Fifty-fourth, who wanted the black troops to distinguish themselves, Col. Chatfield granted them their wish. Gen. Strong, who was to lead the charge, then addressed them. He said, “Men of Massachusetts, I am going to put you in front of the chivalry of South Carolina, and they will pour iron hail in your faces; but don’t flinch; defend the flag and uphold the honor of the State of Massachusetts.” He further told them “the Sixth Connecticut was immediately behind them, and I know they will not flinch.” They fell upon one knee in the sand and with their right arm raised, they swore they would do it.
The command formed silently on the beach; the men seemed impatient to move as the scene became exciting. “Close column, by companies,” was the order given, and the first brigade was off for its work.
Steadily forward we moved, while the gunboats still roared away. At a given signal they ceased their fire and the order passed to charge. The rebels waited till we were within range and then poured a volley into our ranks from their guns on the parapet, while the riflemen rattled their bullets from the small arms. The Fifty-fourth wavered for a moment, and that moment was fatal to them; they broke and fled. On pressed the Sixth through the iron hail, picked our way through the abatis, descended the ditch and climbed up the steep sides of the fort, and gaining the parapet, was among the rebels. The flash of a thousand rifles poured into us, followed in quick succession by hand grenades. Shrapnel, cannister and grape were freely showered into the ranks, while we leaped down to the casemates and bomb-proofs, driving the enemy before us in great confusion. They entered their rifle pits and checked our further advance. The night was so dark it was hard to distinguish friend from foe, and a signal from the rebels turned the fire of Fort Sumpter and Battery Gregg upon the angle of the fort which we held. In vain did we look for help from the second brigade. Many a brave soldier had sealed his loyalty with his blood, and Gens. Strong and Seymour, Col. Chatfield and others, were badly wounded and carried to the rear. We were virtually without any commanding officer to lead us. To wait for daylight would have been
sheer madness, and the supporting brigade, terrified by the deadly cannonade, instead of relying upon the bayonet to accomplish the work, stopped and fired. The rebels saw the mistake and rallied upon the Sixth, which stood almost alone within their works. The charge was repulsed, but after remaining for about three hours under such a deadly fire, we escaped as best we could, with terrible loss. Had the second brigade supported us in time, no doubt we could have held it. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment rallied soon after they faltered and came up to the left angle of the fort, where they finally did good service. Here Col. Shaw met his death. The Sixth Regiment and the Connecticut colors were the first in the fort that night. The color-bearer, a German named Gustave DeBouge, was shot through the forehead while carrying the colors in the assault, and fell dead upon the flag, his life blood staining them through. Several brave ones who were near seized them, but they also fell either dead or wounded. Captain Frederick B. Osborn of Co. “K,” as brave an officer as ever wore shoulder straps, finally succeeded in pulling them from under the bodies and bearing them off in triumph. Our flags were much shattered and torn, but both were saved from the enemy.
In leaving Wagner that night, the ditch we crossed was filled with the dead and wounded, and we were
compelled to step upon their bodies in making our escape. Many fell wounded upon the beach, and as the salt water surged over their bodies and in their wounds, their groans and cries were terrible to hear. Men begged piteously to others more fortunate, to remove them out of reach of the incoming tide. Our return to camp was attended with almost as much danger as our advance, and many brave men who were spared through the terrible ordeal in the fort, were either killed or wounded in returning to the rear. Every foot of ground seemed to be covered by the fire of the enemy’s guns. Batteries Gregg and Wagner, Forts Johnson, Ripley and Sumpter, besides two gunboats in the harbor, all directed their missiles of death to further our destruction while retreating; and how so many of us were spared through such a terrible conflict, can be attributed only to the goodness of our Heavenly Father. Truly the God of battles was on our side.
Our loss was quite heavy, considering the force engaged; the Sixth being exposed to the deadliest fire, their ranks were pretty well thinned out and the total figures footed up to 141 killed, wounded and missing. Many of the wounded brought off the field died the next day. Among the killed was Lieut. Stevens of Co. “I,” a cannister shot passing through his heart. He was Ass’t Adjutant General on Gen. Seymour’s staff, a position he filled with great ability.
Having made military matters a study for a number of years his services were valuable to the government. His body was brought off the field and buried beneath one of the lone palmettos. A large influx of surgeons arrived from the North a few days after the battle, many of whom were mere boys, having hardly attained their majority, without experience, and many without common sense, came to Morris Island to assist in caring for the wounded. A slight wound in the limb was sufficient cause for them to amputate, and many suffered amputation of limbs that with proper treatment could have been spared to them. The writer saw a surgeon’s table improvised on a sand bluff, where these “would-be-surgeons” were using the scalpel knife in severing the arms and legs of the wounded, and a great pile lay beside them. Many a victim protested against this outrage, but was told that it was the only thing that would prolong life. The victims in many cases died soon after the operation.
Fatigue duty fell unusually hard upon the troops on the island, and every night found the Sixth in the trenches, building batteries or hauling heavy guns to the front. Under fire every day and night, the regiment suffered the loss of many members by wounds and death. While at the front one day a flag of truce came from Wagner, borne by a rebel Captain named Tracy. Capt. Tracy of the Sixth met him and
found that he wanted to negotiate for an exchange of prisoners. Gen. Vogdes was informed and the terms agreed upon. On Friday, July 24, a large steamer bearing our wounded, came down the harbor and ran alongside of one of the monitors. It was said she was a blockade runner and had recently ran the blockade. Upon her decks were Englishmen dressed in the height of fashion, talking loudly of the superior intellect of the southern chivalry. The steamer Cosmopolitan, which had recently been fitted up as a hospital ship, ran alongside and delivered up the rebel wounded and the rebels gave us 205 Union soldiers. They also reported that they had amputated the limbs of 25 and that 50 had died on their hands. We also learned that they were so indignant because our government employed negro troops, that when they found Col. Shaw’s body they dug a deep trench and put the body in and then threw 25 dead negroes top of it. This circumstance we learned to be a fact, the pickets in our front having reported the same thing to us.