Private Wright, according to the surgeons’ testimony who examined his lungs, could not have lived much more than a year longer, as they were diseased.
Of those men who were curious to witness these operations, some would stand, eyes wide open, with no evidence of any feeling more than of wonder that the surgeons could handle their knives with so much composure; others would evince so much interest and desire to get near, in order to learn such secrets of the human system as they could, that they troubled the guards; while others had a look of sorrow on their countenances, and after a short stay would saunter slowly away in deep thought. No man knew whether he would or not be treated in the same manner in case he sickened and died.
Bodies sent home were invariably escorted a certain distance from camp by the regular Guard of Honor detail, according to the rank held by the deceased, with arms reversed, followed by the regiment with side arms, as mourners, the band playing a dirge. On arrival at the prescribed distance three volleys were fired over the remains, when the regiment marched back to camp, while the body was carried to New Orleans in an ambulance, attended by a few members of the company to which the deceased belonged, and put aboard some steamer for New York. In all such cases burial service was held in front of the hospital, in presence of the regiment.
The dead that were buried near camp were escorted to the grave, and burial service held there. After the service all passed around the coffin to take a last look of the remains before committal to the earth. Burials were solemn occasions, and it was plain to see such scenes were not without some influence on the men. He must be a hardened man who can gaze upon the remains of a departed comrade, perhaps a few weeks and sometimes only days before as full of life and hope as himself, but now cold, rigid and at rest, without some mysterious sensation creeping over him. The chances were that any one was as likely in a short time to be an inhabitant of the same ground as the one just buried.
All coffins were made of pine board, painted a dark brown color, filled with shavings on which to rest the body. They were very good for the kind, and answered the purpose for which they were intended. Each grave was marked with a head-board, on which was inscribed the name of deceased, rank, company, regiment, age, and time of death.
Privates John H. Cary, Benjamin Gould, and Sergeant Philip P. Hackett, of Company G, Private Buckley Waters, Company E, Private Rufus G. Hildreth, Company C, and Private Thomas J. Clements, Company H, were buried at Bayou Gentilly. Their graves were situated near three large oak trees, between them and the swamp, at the end of the Gentilly race-course, looking towards it from the Ponchartrain Railroad. Some three or four soldiers of a native guard regiment (Union colored troops) were also buried at the same spot.
Chaplain Sanger officiated at these burial services. His remarks were generally to the point and well delivered. A brief resume of the deceased soldier’s life, as far as known, was usually given, and a prayer offered for his relations. The chaplain always attended to notifying relations of their loss, forwarding the personal effects, any rings or valuables, together with locks of hair taken from the person before burial. This duty was done well and conscientiously. It is not pleasant, however, to record that Chaplain Sanger was not popular with the command. A feeling was first manifested by the Galveston prisoners, and by them communicated to the rest of the regiment. The only reason for this, so far as could be ascertained, was that they did not like his behavior when the prisoners were marched from Texas to the Union lines. They accused him of neglect to their sick and suffering when he should have at least tried to do something for them; of currying favor with the Confederate officers in such a manner to lead them to suppose he was deficient in manly bearing.
On this march Chaplain Sanger was sick with diarrhœa, and remained so for some time after reaching regimental headquarters, a fact sufficient to account for any lack of energy he did display. He always spoke well of the men, was anxious to do for their good and to gain their esteem. That he did not do so was a misfortune for both. Many regarded the chaplain as ranking among some of the best that left Massachusetts. Except a rather quick temper, his personal behavior was in keeping with his profession.
Private William F. Lacount, Company F, a hospital nurse, acted as chaplain on Sundays from the time the regiment arrived in Louisiana, in December, until Chaplain Sanger returned with the paroled men, afterwards conducting divine service on the Sabbath at the paroled camp; the chaplain officiating at the regimental camp. It was thought proper to have these separate services on account of the feeling prevalent. Private Lacount deserves much credit, more than he received, for the able and intelligent manner in which he performed these volunteer duties. He displayed a true Christian spirit and was satisfied in doing good.