On the march today I saw several wounded men, the first wounded soldiers I ever saw, and I can see them as plainly today as I did twenty-three years ago. Our corps captured today 300 head of cattle, which were destined for Stonewall Jackson's command.

Rebel bushwackers have been busy along the line of march today, occasionally picking off a straggler, and getting safely away themselves.

We marched all day on a plank road. On the route we came to what had once been a drug and grocery store, but it was in a wreck now. Some bill heads found in the ruin bore the name of "Brandy Station".

Two venerable negroes standing at the roadside told us there was a big lot of rebels about fifteen miles ahead (meaning at Fredericksburg). Our camp this night was on the farm of a Mr. Hatch, formerly of Farmington, Conn. He had a house with a barn in the yard and other barns in a field across the road. The moment we arrived there a number of Dikeman's battery, which accompanied us, made a raid on the shingles of one of the barns, and, despite orders to the contrary from their officers, tore off the entire roof. The material they wanted for fires. This accomplished, they emptied the barn of its hay, which they fed to their horses.

May 1^st. A part of our regiment with Ohio troops moved into the road near the house. Dikeman's battery was stationed in a field in front of us. We made a breastwork of rails on the roadside, and were behind it to support the battery. The balance of our regiment remained in the garden at the house. Our breastwork faced the south. Our right flank rested in two lots beyond the house, one on each side of the road. There was a piece of woods beyond that and woods across the road at our back, and woods to the left. The forest was most scrub pine.

At dark there was some artillery firing at our front. We could see the course of the shells by their burning fuse, and could see them explode. We were not disturbed through the night. The next day, May 2^nd, a detail was made from our regiment for picket duty, and the picket, of which I was one, were stationed in the woods at the right of our line. During our stay there we could hear artillery moving in front of us, but could not see much. The officer of the picket line, so it was said, that the enemy were forming on that flank, but the commanding officer did not believe him. Whether this was true or not, it was made soon certain that that flank of our corps was taken by surprise, for when the attack came it was quite evident that there was no preparation for it, and no one to direct a resistance. About 3 p.m. we were relieved from picket by details from Companies I and G, and returned to our position at the road breastworks in rear of Dikeman's battery. We there had a ration of fresh meat weighed out to us, and starting a fire by a brook a little way in the woods at our back, proceeded to cook it and some coffee.

Almost at the first fire the regiments on our right and our left fled from the scene, not even taking their guns with them. We could not see the enemy but we knew where they were and we could see some of the terrible effects of their fire. The roar of musketry and cannon and the screams of the shells were deafening. One shell tore off the end of the barn near the house, another made splinters of a fence close by, and a third tore one of the battery horses in twain, while others ploughed into the ground and sent up showers of earth and stones.

Captain Moore, were in the garden with the balance of the regiment, at the house. Presently Capt. Moore said to the major: "Major, what are you going to do? If you don't give some order by and bye, I will."

"I have no right to give orders. Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel are at the house, and they have given me no orders."

Thus we stood there, the metal hail becoming thicker and thicker. The captain again spoke: "Major, if you don't give orders immediately, I will."

IN THE WAR FOR THE UNION

On this retreat I witnessed a singular incident. Two artillery men came into the breast work, and were continuing on when an officer made them halt. They explained that their battery had gone on ahead of them, and the officer told them to go on. They started in continuance of their retreat when a soldier standing at my side shot one of them in the back, killing him instantly. He was probably crazed by fright, and did not realize what he was doing.

The Twelfth corps took position behind a stone wall at the foot of a sloping ground. Back of them was the artillery. The disorganized troops, as rapidly as they got within this [place?] formed back of the artillery as a [reserve?]. It was now dusk. The firing soon [ended] except that of the artillery, which kept up some little time, throwing shot and shell into the woods where Jackson's corps were lying.

We lay down with our guns in our arms and soon fell asleep. There was occasional spurts of fire through the night, and there were movements of troops about us, but we did not much mind these. At daylight, Sunday, May 3^rd, two or three corps formed on this rise of ground. One of these relieved our corps, and we were sent back two miles or so, where we occupied a breastwork. Scarcely any of the commands of our corps were complete. Singly and by small squads members who had been scattered in the retreat joined us. The breastworks we occupied were thrown up along a road, overlooking a ravine. On this road were passing troops going to or returning from the front, with long strings of wounded passing to the rear. As we fell back from the front the fight was resumed, and continued till noon with great vigor. There was a lively movement of troops to the front. Some of these regiments returned in an hour or so, bringing their wounded with them. Some of these were so badly wounded that they died in the blankets they were being carried in. How many members of the different organizations were left motionless on the ground at the front was a matter of speculation to us. But it was evident that a large number of the men who had passed us a few moments before in the flush of health and youth had gone on forever.

Among the throng going by us to the rear were many prisoners, some of them wounded.

At 10 a.m. Company C was sent into the woods in front of the breastwork on a skirmish. We were gone two hours.

We remained in the breastwork all day of May 4 and 5, expecting every moment to be called to the front, but we were not moved. At 10 p.m. of the 6^th we were ordered to fall in. We were cautioned to be very quiet. Even out tin pots and cups were ordered into our haversacks so they would not cause any noise by striking against other objects. While we were in line news came that the pontoon bridges prepared for our escape across the Rappahannock had been broken up by the heavy rain falling the night before, and we would have to wait a few hours. A guard was detailed, and those not on duty lay down and slept.

May 6^th. Just before daylight we were awakened by the guard and ordered to fall in. The same orders we received last night to muffle our tinware and to talk in a whisper were repeated when we were called into line. We knew then that the battle had resulted disastrously for our side, and that we were on a retreat. The question was would the rebels capture us before we could get away. Fortunately they had got their bellies full of fight, and were perfectly willing to let us slide. But, unfortunately for our piece of mind, we did not know that then.

We started on our march in a short time, and in a short time we reached the plains skirting that part of the Rappahannock river where we were to cross. Finally we got over the pontoon bridge, got into a road and pursued our way. At 5 p.m. we suddenly emerged in sight of our old camp at Brooks Station, and were assigned to the quarters we had vacated a week before, We felt that we were safe now, and we threw off our knapsacks in a hurry, placed our "shelter" tents on the roofs of the log huts, and fell to getting supper with a hearty will.

One hundred and one wounded, missing and killed was the casualty of the regiment now reported in this fight, which was one-sixth of the whole number. The killed, wounded and captured were principally from that part of the regiment which was in the garden of the Hatch farm house.

One of the captured was Lieutenant John W. Craw, Company A, who writes as follows of his experience in the battle:

One of the wounded, D.C. Rusco, of Company H, gives his experience as follows:

We make the following interesting extract from a letter written home shortly after by Ira Penfield, of this town, who was then a member of Company D, the Bridgeport company; beginning where his company was in the garden under fire:

Mr. Penfield was captured that evening, and with other prisoners was taken back to the Hatch farm where they remained until the next day (Sunday) noon, when a company of one thousand of them left under guard for a march to Richmond. He adds:

At six o'clock Saturday morning the prisoners were put in motion again, and marched until in the evening, when they reached Richmond, and were lodged in the famous Libby prison. Mr. Penfield wrote that on the road approaching this city they passed squads of men and women, some of whom waved the confederate flag and jeered them.

The prisoners remained in Libby prison until Wednesday, the 12^th, when they were taken out and started on a march to City Point, a distance of 27 miles, where they were paroled and took a steamer for the North.

IN THE WAR FOR THE UNION

Major Brady had charge of the left wing. When the enemy's shell began to come thick and fast Col. Noble rode to the garden in the direction of the enemy's fire, where the right was in position. He was anxious about the fate of the two companies of his regiment who were on picket in front of the enemy. At this the whole right wing of the regiment was lying on the ground to avoid the flying shells. Lt. Col. Walter was lying down, but got up when Col. Noble approached, and saluted him.

Lieut.-Col. Walter again laid down, but presently arose, and looking straight at the enemy, who were then close at hand and pouring a blinding storm of lead and iron upon us, ordered this wing of the regiment to fall back. The order saved the lives of nearly all of his men, but it was too late to save his own. He fell on his face. One of the officers who saw him on the ground cried to him: "Come on colonel; the rebels are upon us!" He did not know the gallant German was dead or even hurt. He was lying on his breast with his face resting on his crossed hands. But he was dead. He had died as he fell, without even for an instant realizing he had been hit. A braver soldier never faced an enemy.

Col. Noble having found the right [meaning the left, ed.] wing gone from its place in the road returned to the garden, meeting the left [meaning the right, ed.] wing in its retreat. At this junction his horse was wounded but the colonel did not realize it. He joined in the retreat until the 119^th New York regiment of our corps was reached. This regiment was in line of battle. The remnants of the Seventeenth formed behind it. Just then the colonel of the 119^th was shot dead, and the regiment started in full retreat, sweeping the Seventeenth with it. Shortly after Colonel Noble was badly wounded in the left arm. He bled profusely. He rode a short distance, but feeling sick and giddy, dismounted, and sat down on the ground. He was persuaded by the members of the regiment to get back on his horse, and get away from the rapidly advancing enemy. He complied, and they held him on the back of the animal until the rear of the Chancellor's house was reached, where he could have some care. From this place he and the other wounded were soon dislodged. The colonel got transportation to the United States ford across the Rappahannock, and to a hospital on the other side of the river. From here he was sent to Washington, and thence went home on a leave of absence. He rejoined the regiment on the eve of the third day of the Gettysburg fight.