The "Twenty-Seventh": A Regimental History

by Winthrop Dudley Sheldon

Thus affairs continued for several days—the same dull routine of prison life, varied by nothing except the contraband reading of Richmond papers, with accounts of Stonewall Jackson’s funeral, at which there was great joy in Libby. At length, on Wednesday morning, came the glad announcement that the United States transports were at City Point, awaiting our arrival. The rebel officers administered to us the following paroling oath: “We, the undersigned, do solemnly swear and pledge our sacred word, that we will not, during the existing hostilities between the United States and the Confederate States of America, aid or abet the enemies of said Confederate States, by arms or otherwise, until regularly and legally exchanged, or otherwise released. So help me God. And we do acknowledge our names appended to the same, as though signed by ourselves.” At half-past three in the afternoon, with gladness indescribable, we left those prison walls, to enter upon the march to City Point, a place about thirty-five miles from Richmond. Crossing the James river into Manchester, we took the turnpike road to Petersburg, under the escort chiefly of cavalry. The rebels hurried us forward for miles almost at double-quick, without any halt. As Major Turner rode by, the men called to him for a rest. He shouted out, “There is no rest for the wicked!” and passed on.

It was the purpose of our escort to continue the march all night, but a thunder-storm of surpassing violence seriously interfered. A darkness, so intense that we could not see a foot before us, enveloped the road. Slowly, through mud, and rain, and darkness, we straggled along, until near midnight. It was impossible to go further. Scattered along the roadside for miles were hundreds too much exhausted to keep up with the column, and finally we all dragged ourselves into the marshy woods, and, lulled to sleep by the babbling brooks flowing around us in every direction, forgot awhile the fatigue of the march. At an early hour the next day the weary column again moves on, each man sustaining his waning strength by frequent halts. Petersburg is passed, and ten miles more of mud. At length the waters of the James river glimmer in the distance; the old flag, floating proudly at the masthead of the Union transports, beckons onward. The men attempt to cheer, but it dies on their lips; nature is too much exhausted to utter the feelings which swell all hearts. With renewed energy we press forward, and soon enter the deserted village of City Point, whose shattered roofs tell of a former bombardment. That march from Richmond to City Point stands almost unexampled in the whole experience of the Twenty-seventh. Many were ready to drop on the ground from utter inability to go further. Behind them frowned the grim, historic walls of Libby; dreary months of incarceration moved by in slow procession, crowded full with the records of cruelty, and starvation, and disease; while forward to freedom and humanity, forward to generous care and protection, written on every fold of the old flag, fired them with new determination to toil on. Once more they stand on a Union deck, resolved to strike a heavier blow for their country when again they advance to meet her barbarous foes. As soon as the men were aboard the transports, a supply of food was distributed to meet their pressing wants. The steamers quietly dropped down the beautiful James river, bordered with high banks, rich in the fresh verdure of spring, with here and there a handsome villa peering above the trees. We anchored for the night at Harrison’s Landing, an important point in the history of the Peninsular campaign. The next forenoon our transports steamed into Hampton Roads. Hampton, once the summer resort of the Virginia chivalry, Newport News, the distant spires of Norfolk, the topmast of the Cumberland still pointing skyward, the little monitors, and the Rip-Raps, and that grand old sentinel, Fortress Monroe, all crowd on the view as we round to at Old Point Comfort. A brief stop, and we are off again for Annapolis, where we arrive on the morning of May sixteenth, and are quartered in barracks in the rear of the town. After three days of rest, we start for Alexandria, by way of Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac, and on May twenty-first are introduced within the narrow precincts of Convalescent Camp.

The majority of the officers were detained in Richmond several days after the departure of the privates. Meanwhile, the rebels had been threatening retaliation for General Burnside’s execution of two spies, in Kentucky; and the officials in charge of Libby took great delight in telling our officers that they were to have tickets in the lottery, which would determine the victims of the lex talionis. A few days later, they were relieved of their suspense by the announcement that the lot had fallen upon two officers from Tennessee. This affair having been arranged satisfactorily to the rebel authorities, the officers of the Twenty-seventh received their parole early Saturday morning, May twenty-third, and started in freight cars for City Point, and from that place were transported, via Fortress Monroe, to Annapolis, where they arrived on the morning of the twenty-fifth.

Leaving the paroled prisoners of the Twenty-seventh to endure as best they can the idleness and discontent of Convalescent Camp, let us return in thought to the wilds of Chancellorsville, and from those scenes of the third of May follow the little band which still remains at the front, to bear our flag to victory on the heights of Gettysburg. Eight companies were captured on that memorable May morning; but D and F, having been detached for duty elsewhere, escaped this unexpected misfortune, and fell back with the main army, when General Hooker retired to his new line of battle. Meanwhile, the duties of these remnants of the regiment were somewhat disconnected. During Saturday night following the disaster of the Eleventh Corps, Company A had been out on picket duty, and were relieved by Company D, at an early hour the next morning, in time to accompany the main body of the regiment to the place where they were captured. Company F had been previously detached to fill up a gap in the line between the Fifty-third and One Hundred and Forty-fifth Pennsylvania, and were soon after ordered up to the Chancellor House to support the famous Pettit’s battery. Here they remained until Sunday afternoon, under a severe fire. Twice the rebels charged up in solid masses, but were repulsed before Pettit’s rapid and irresistible volleys. In the evening of that day Company F went out on picket, and continued in this duty until the following Monday night. It was on this part of the line that Stonewall Jackson received his mortal wound.

It will be remembered that when the regiment went down to the picket-line that Sabbath morning, the colors remained behind by order of General Brooke. Although the rifle-pits were now entirely deserted, the color-guard, having no orders to leave, maintained their position until ten A.M., much of the time under a severe shelling. At that hour they were ordered to the rear, and soon after joined Company D, which was the last to leave the old picket-line of the army, as stated by the staff officer who brought to them the orders to fall back. The various remnants of the Twenty-seventh were not reünited until a late hour on Monday.

The conflict of Sabbath morning, May third, terminated at eleven o’clock, and, with the exception of a feeble demonstration by Jackson’s forces in the afternoon, the remainder of the day passed in comparative quiet. Meanwhile, Hooker had contracted his lines, and the army was now massed within a nearly equilateral triangle, its base resting upon the Rappahannock. The Eleventh and Twelfth Corps occupied the side facing Fredericksburg. On the side looking toward the Rapidan were the First, Third, and Fifth, while our Second corps was formed in four compact lines at the angle, which was open ground about a two-story white house, on the Ely’s Ford road, near the junction with that leading to United States Ford. This was a strong position, favorable for artillery, and justly regarded as the most important in the whole line. The Twenty-seventh held a position to the left of the white house, where General Hooker now had his headquarters. Such continued to be the situation of the army during the succeeding two days. The enemy seemed disinclined to venture a general attack, but occasionally shelled our intrenchments, as if to reassure themselves that Hooker was still there. Affairs could not remain long in this doubtful state. The golden opportunity to crush the rebels, when the thunder of Sedgwick’s cannon, advancing from Fredericksburg, filled the breezes with the murmuring notes of success, had passed, and now every hour of delay added to the swelling torrent of the Rappahannock, threatening to sweep away the feeble threads which connected the army with its supplies.

Monday evening, May fourth, General Hooker held a council of war, which decided that it was best to withdraw the army the following night. Accordingly, eight o’clock, Tuesday evening, was the hour fixed upon; but the troops did not begin to move until after midnight, in consequence of a heavy storm, which carried away some of the bridges. The Twenty-seventh remained under arms all night, in the rain, with orders to be ready to start at any moment. At length, at four in the morning of May sixth, the regiment fell back with the rest of the brigade, re-crossed at United States Ford, and, after a march of twelve hours, arrived at the old camp, near Falmouth. The Sixty-fourth New-York were found quietly ensconced in the few huts which the scavengers of Falmouth had left standing, and demurred somewhat at leaving their grateful shelter, but finally recognized the prior claim of the Twenty-seventh. After a few days, the regiment changed its camp to a more healthy location two miles further back from the river. The losses of Hooker’s campaign had reduced our numbers from nearly four hundred men to one hundred and sixty, embracing D and F, and small squads of other companies, the whole under command of the senior officer, Captain Joseph R. Bradley, of Company F. Dress parades took place as usual, and duty at the old picket-line on the Rappahannock was resumed, bearing very heavily upon our diminished ranks. Occasionally the rebel pickets shouted across the river to know where the Twenty-seventh Connecticut had gone, and in the same breath gave the answer, “To picket around Richmond.” On the thirteenth of May, several of our wounded men came over from Fredericksburg, having been nine days in the rebel hospitals.

After the battle of Chancellorsville, General D. N. Couch, the corps commander, was relieved at his own request, and our division general, W. S. Hancock, justly characterized as the very impersonation of war, succeeded to the command. As soon as possible, after the return of our commissioned officers from Richmond, a part were exchanged, and at the earliest moment Colonel Bostwick returned to the front, followed by Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin, Major Coburn, and Lieutenants Frank Chapman, Burdict, Rice, Muhlner, and Cross, who rejoined the regiment on the eleventh of June. Colonel Bostwick, being prevented from remaining with his men, in consequence of a severe and protracted sickness, the Lieutenant-Colonel took command of the battalion, which now consisted of three companies, an additional one having been formed from the remnants of the captured companies, and placed under command of Captain Jedediah Chapman.