Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 23.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

In a former communication to the Dispatch I gave a short account of the part borne by our regiment in the Seven Days battles before Richmond, but I inadverdently failed to mention that we were at the battle of Cold Harbor. I regret this omission and wish to revert to that battle for the purpose of paying a tribute of sorrow and regard to a fallen comrade, the youngest member of our company, Clarence Warwick, a boy indeed, not twenty years old, full of enthusiasm for the cause, bold, active, and enterprising, and had he lived, would, I think, have won distinction in the service. He was the youngest of three brothers, all members of our company—brave soldiers—always ready to do their duty cheerfully, whether in camp or in battle, sons of one of the wealthiest and most respected families of this city, for one of whom especially, Major W. B. Warwick, I had a warm attachment. We shared the same blanket and ate at the same fire until he was promoted and left the company to accept a position on the staff of General Fitz Lee, and whose untimely death a few years ago all who knew him deeply lamented.

We had been actively engaged all day of the 27th of June, 1862, and about the middle of the afternoon were drawn up on the crest of a hill, sheltered somewhat by a thin and open wood, and preparing, as I understood, to charge a battery of four guns, which had for some time been firing on a column of infantry and doing considerable damage, when suddenly a ball came crashing through the trees and striking Clarence about the middle of the body literally severed it in twain, leaving scarcely enough tissue to hold the parts together. Death must have been instantaneous and almost without a pang.

We sent his mortal remains to Richmond for burial.

On fame's eternal camping ground
     Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with solemn round
     The bivouac of the dead.