with artillery. Among the killed are Colonels Holcomb, First Louisiana; Galway, One Hundred and Seventy-third New-York; Bryan, One Hundred and Seventy-fifth New-York; and Smith, of the One Hundred and Fourteenth New-York, mortally wounded.
Account by a Participant.
bivouac of the Thousand Stormers, before Port Hudson, June 22.Some days since I wrote and sent to New-Orleans by a friend, a few lines, which I hope are ere now in your hands. From them you will know of my whereabouts. I know the date line of this letter will seem queer to you, but the order inclosed will explain it. [General Banks's call for a thousand volunteers to storm the fort.] I have thus far been spared, but I fear now that this is my last letter for a long time, if not forever. On the fourteenth we stormed the works again and were repulsed with much loss. Our regiment lost sixty out of two hundred and fifty. I lost just half my company, (killed and wounded,) and was slightly hurt on the left wrist by an unexploded shell, which cut the flesh, and the concussion lamed the arm badly. However, I am on duty, and have commanded the regiment since then till yesterday A. M., Colonel B. being in command of the brigade, and Lieutenant-Colonel B. being sick. Poor Major Bogart was killed in the charge — struck in the hip by a shell before it exploded and almost cut in two. The same one killed Sergeant Lord and Corporal Newman, of my company — then exploded and wounded several men. I have been in many battles, but I never saw, and never wish to see, such a fire as that poured on us on June fourteenth. It was not terrible — it was horrible. Our division (Second) stormed about a mile from the Mississippi. We left our camp where I wrote you last at twelve o'clock midnight, on the thirteenth, and proceeded to the left, arriving just at daylight, where the balance of our brigade (Second) awaited us. Colonel Benedict arrived from opposite Port Hudson on the twelfth, and our regiment was transferred from the First to the Second brigade, and he placed in command. The movement to the left took all by surprise; but we got in shape behind a piece of woods which concealed the enemy's works and rested. The First brigade went in first and we followed — the Third brigade being a reserve. I saw the First brigade file left and move on, but saw no more of it. When the order came to move on, we did so in “column of company,” at full distance. Ask some good military man what he thinks of a brigade moving to a charge in that manner. The One Hundred and Sixty-second leading, the One Hundred and Seventy-fifth (Bryan's) after us, then the Forty-eighth Massachusetts and Twenty-eighth Maine. We were in a road parallel to the enemy's works, and had to change direction to or file left round the corner of the woods, and then started forward by a road leading up. The ground rose gradually, and away above, the rebel works were in plain sight. The moment we turned into the road, shot, shell, grape, and canister, fell like hail in amongst and around us. But on we went. A little higher, a new gun opened on us. Still farther, they had a cross-fire on us-oh! such a terrible one; but on we went, bending, as, with sickening shrieks, the grape and canister swept over us. Sometimes it fell in and about us; but I paid no heed to it. After the first, my whole mind was given to the colors, and to keep my men around them; and they did it well. I wonder now, as I think of it, how I did so. I walked erect, though from the moment I saw how they had us, I was sure I would be killed. I had no thought (after a short prayer) but for my flag. I talked and shouted. I did all man could do to keep my boys to their “colors.” I tried to draw their attention from the enemy to it, as I knew we would advance more rapidly. The brave fellows stood by it, as the half-score who fell attest. The “color-bearer” fell, but the “flag” did not. Half the guard fell, but the “flag” was there. Ask (if I never come home) my colonel or lieutenant-colonel if any one could have done better than I did that day. I do not fear their answer. When about three hundred yards from the works, I was struck. The pain was so intense that I could not go on. I turned to my second lieutenant, who was in command of company C, as he came up to me, and said: “Never mind me, Jack; for God's sake jump to the colors.” I don't recollect any more, till I heard Colonel B. say: “Up, men, and forward.” I looked, and saw the rear regiments lying flat to escape the fire, and Colonel B. standing there, the shot striking all about him, and he never flinching. It was grand to see him. I wish I was of “iron nerve,” as he is. When I heard him speak, I forgot all else, and, running forward, did not stop till at the very front and near the colors again. There, as did all the rest, I lay down, and soon learned the trouble. Within two hundred yards of the works was a ravine parallel with them, imperceptible till just on the edge of it, completely impassable by the fallen timber in it. Of course we could not move on. To stand up was certain death; so was retreat. Naught was left but to lie down with what scanty cover we could get. So we did lie down, in that hot, scorching sun. I fortunately got behind two small logs, which protected me on two sides, and lay there, scarcely daring to turn, for four hours, till my brain reeked and surged, and I thought I should go mad. Death would have been preferable to a continuance of such torture. Lots of poor fellows were shot as they were lying down, and to lie there and hear them groan and cry was awful. Just on the other side of the log lay the gallant Colonel Bryan, with both legs broken by shot. He talked of home, but bore it like a patriot. Near him was one of my own brave boys, with five balls in him. I dared not stir, my hand pained so, and it would have been death also. Well, the Colonel got out of pain sooner