May 27th. We were relieved at about 6 P.M., by the Twelfth Maine regiment, but we were almost immediately ordered out to the support of Nim's battery which had just been put into position. Here we lay five or six hours while the enemy's shells burst in most unpleasant proximity. Then our regiment and the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York were ordered out to the support of General Weitzel on our right. We marched on the double-quick down through the woods, when we were ordered by General Grover to advance to the front and carry the earthworks. We were informed that there were hardly any Rebels there. Major Burt of the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth, who was in command, was told that his regiment alone would be able to carry the works and to send back our regiment if it wasn't needed. But we found out very soon that our assistance would be necessary to carry the earthworks. We rushed on through the woods and down a hill, swept by the enemy's artillery. Here we turned to the right and emerged on to a plain. I shall never forget that sight. The valley was filled with felled trees, and heavy underbrush, while thick and black rolled the battle-smoke. There was a hill on our left, strongly entrenched and from here loomed up a big gun. Just below on a little bridge was planted a stand of the Stars and Stripes, the glorious old banner, and gathered around it stood a handful of brave men firing a stream of bullets upon that piece. For six long hours the gunners did not dare approach to load and that wicked looking gun was kept silent. It was here that we had a taste of real war in all its horrors. It was a sort of a floating panorama that passed before me, a hideous dream. There was a roaring and crashing of artillery, bursting of shells and the rattle of muskets, with hissing and whistling of minie balls and battle-smoke lowering down upon us. There were men dropping here and there and all the horrid experiences of war. Still we kept on; there was a short turn to the right and in single file we commenced ascending through a deep ravine. Wading through water, stumbling over and under fallen trees, we finally came to a pit about six feet deep; when we had gotten out of that we were on the side of the hill where we had to prepare to make a charge. It was a wicked place to charge. The nature of the ground was such it was impossible to form in battle line, so to make the attack in three columns over felled trees which were cris-crossed in every shape imaginable. We waited here for a few moments with beating hearts, waiting for the forward charge. The word came and with a terrifying yell we rose to our feet and rushed forward. It was a terrible time, when bounding over the last tree and crashing through some brush we came out within a short distance of the enemy's entrenchments, and it seemed as though a thousand rifles were cracking our doom. This fire was too deadly for men to stand against. Our brave fellows, shot down as fast as they could come up, were beaten back. Then occurred one of those heroic deeds we sometimes read about. The colors of the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth were left on the hill, their color sergeant having been killed. Corporal Buckley of our regiment calmly worked back in that terrific fire, picked up the dear old flag and brought it in, turned to pick up his gun and was killed. He was a noble fellow and much beloved in the regiment.
Resting here a short time, we made a second charge with the same deadly results. Our regiment and the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York lost 80 men killed and wounded. It was a terrible position we were in. Sharpshooters on the left picking us off; sharpshooters on right giving it to us and the rifle pits in front. Here we had to stay till after 10 o'clock that night when the order came to fall back, which we did, bringing off our wounded. I was so tired I fell asleep and barely woke in time to get away. We had several killed and wounded in our regiment. I will say here that our little company was not entirely dissolved at this time though reduced to less than 20 men. Our colonel we missed sadly, but earnestly hoped to welcome him back soon. Our regiment numbered 162 men and eight officers at this time.
May 28th. There was lively firing this morning on the picket lines, but the cannons were quiet. We were expecting reinforcements and we needed them if we were ever to take Port Hudson. This was the seventh day of the siege and we were pretty well fagged out. We had to fight for every foot of ground. But we had carried the first two earthworks by storm. It had been one continual fight since we started in but there was a cessation of hostilities for a short time, and the lull was a great relief, for my ears had been half-deafened by the awful roar of artillery and cracking of musketry. There were three men killed and about twenty wounded, and thirty in our regiment missing. Again in our little company we had several wounded, one fatally. So I think that I must have been in great danger several times, but I felt that a kind Providence watched over me, and brought me out safely. The regiment at this time was under the command of Major McManus, Colonel Bissell being sick with remittent fever at Bayou Sara and the lieutenant-colonel prostrated at New Orleans. The colored regiments fought bravely and made some splendid charges.
May 31st. There has been some firing by the infantry and artillery during the day. About ten o'clock last night we withdrew our forces very cautiously, bringing away all the wounded we could reach, but there were some poor unfortunates lying up under the breastworks that it was impossible to reach. Every time we tried to get to them the Rebs would fire on us. We threw them canteens of water but it was of little use. We marched back and lay upon the battlefield of the preceding day.
June 1st. We marched back into the woods and were there in support of a battery. It was very trying for us. The Rebs had a perfect range on us and several times a day they would throw those immense twelve-inch shells right into our midst. We could hear them coming for several seconds and we all stood close to the trees for protection. There must have been a large number killed that day. The next day there was a cessation of hostilities to bury the dead. At about seven o'clock the enemy made a terrible onslaught on our right but they were repulsed with heavy loss. We fell into our places expecting to be called into action but we were spared for once. We remained there until the 7th when Lieutenant-Colonel Weld came up from New Orleans and assumed command.
June 7th. We were ordered to the front to relieve the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York in the rifle-pits. We went out in the night as the enemy's sharpshooters rendered it very dangerous to go in the daytime. We had rifle pits dug about two hundred yards from the rifle-pits of the Rebs, and we had loop-holes made from which to fire. About one hundred yards back of us was planted one of our batteries and as they fired over our heads anyone might imagine what a deafening report rang in our ears. We boys got the range of the rifle-pits of "Mr. Secesh" opposite, perfectly, consequently they didn't dare show their heads. Though from their hiding place they annoyed us all day. After dark we usually held some conversation with the Rebs across the ravine. We would ask them if they wanted any soft bread. If they did we would put some in a mortar and send it over. They said they didn't care to have any sent that way and as we didn't have much to spare we didn't send any. Our bean soup and coffee and such other food as might be handy was sent out before daylight in the morning and after dark at night. We were here in this trench or pit for three long days and nights and one can imagine how we suffered from heat and thirst. We were relieved on the tenth by the One Hundred and Fifty-ninth New York. We returned to our old camp-ground June 11th between 12 and 1 A.M. A general assault was planned but owing to some misunderstanding the plan failed.
June 14th, Sunday. The day was an eventful one in the siege of Port Hudson, of which the Twenty-fifth Connecticut was engaged. We were under way at an early hour, for we formed the reserve in the attacking column. Colonel Birge was in command of the reserve. We were up at 3 A.M., had a little hard-tack and coffee and started under command of Captain Naughton at 4. Suddenly we heard a terrifying yell and the crash and roar of artillery and musketry. Soon the dead and wounded began to be brought in. All kinds of conflicting stories were circulated as to the success of our brave fellows. Very soon General Payne was wounded, and Colonel H. W. Birge assumed command, we forming the reserve. Soon we were ordered forward. On through the scene of our first day's fight, then down through a ravine, where a road had been cut. Here we halted at the foot of the hill where we formed in battle line and made another charge right up over the hill, exposed to a raking fire, as we went over the crest and down through the ravine before we could reach the breastworks. There we lost two lieutenants. A large number of men were killed or wounded. We arrived at the other side of the hill in great confusion. I shall never forget that horrible scene. There were parts of several regiments all mixed up together, entangled among fallen trees. But after getting straightened out, and the line once more formed, the order to charge was countermanded and we had to lay up there in that fearful hot sun all day. I was taken sick and had to rest for awhile but I soon got better and joined the regiment. At about 10 P.M. we were ordered down into the outer ditch of the breastworks. We were there but a short time, when we were ordered to the right to our old position in the rifle-pits, which we reached at midnight.
General Payne had been wounded in the leg in the forenoon, but we could not get up where he was to give him any aid, consequently he had to lay there in the burning sun till night, when he was brought away in safety. It was a scorching hot day and a number were sunstruck, some cases proving fatal. I was exhausted and had to lie down in the shade. It was a miserable Sunday scrape and ended like all the rest that had been started on a Sunday, disastrously. The loss of life was very great.
We were relieved at night by the Twenty-eighth Connecticut and returned once more to our old camp-ground, where, after the whizzing of the bullets and the cracking of firearms had died away, all was still but the groans that could be heard upon the bloody battlefield.
June 15th. The day after the second assault on Port Hudson, General Banks issued a call for volunteers "for a storming column of a thousand men to vindicate the Flag of the Union, and the memory of its defenders who had fallen. Let them come forward, every officer and soldier who shares its perils and its glory shall receive a medal fit to commemorate the first grand success of the campaign of 1863 for the freedom of the Mississippi River. His name will be placed upon the roll of honor." The next day, June 16, the order was promulgated and two days later, June 18, these "stormers," as they were called, were gathered into a camp by themselves and put into training calculated to promote physical strength and endurance. By every conceivable way they prepared themselves for the work that they were expected to do. These brave men knew that all the arrangements for their support had been made but the expected order did not come. They had had three or four dreadful experiences in charging earthworks and yet these men were willing to assault those same earthworks again.