Not

A BATTLE sometimes becomes a national landmark, when it is in itself a defeat. If it was so at Bunker's Hill on the 17th of June, 1775, so was it also at Fort Wagner on July 18, 1863. only was this the first experiment with colored troops on the part of the United States, but at that moment the action seemed like a great breakwater against which the waves of past barbarism and future civilization shattered themselves in vain.

What one man can see, must always be very little; but it seems to me that an intelligible account of this battle is still needed for the common reader. John A. Andrew had organized the Massachusetts 54th, and sent it into the field, and in return the rebel Congress promised every white officer of it the halter. In this regiment I was only too proud to serve.

To a proper history of the assault, an understanding of the previous condition of the men is necessary. General Gilmore had already got possession of the southern end of Morris Island. To prevent the enemy from using his whole force where it would tell the most, General Terry was ordered to James Island, in the hope of creating a diver

sion. This Island, to the south of the harbor, was jealously guarded by the rebels. It was, in fact, the key to Charleston itself.

The 54th had been in service for a month on the coasts of Georgia and South Carolina, but the evening of July 9th found us steaming up the Stone River in procession, on one of the thirteen boats which had conveyed General Terry's command to its destination. The placid waters reflected the gorgeous hues and fantastic forms of the clouds which filled the western sky. The distance showed the mantling trunks of the forest-pine-the foreground was a flat, green marsh. A tortuous channel compelled the boats to move in single file. The Pawnee and a monitor were at least three quarters of a mile in advance. Every now and then they threw a shell into the woods. transports followed, crowded troops, and gay with flags.

The with

Morning found us anchored at a point where the rebels had filled the river with obstructions. From the mast-heads, we caught our first view of Sumter and the city, lying about five miles away. All day long we heard the heavy booming of guns, and clouds of

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white smoke rose above Sumter. We obtained our footing without loss, and our lines were drawn completely across the Island, about two miles from the landing. Here we bivouacked for a week on the old cotton-fields.

Our picket-line, at a considerable distance in advance of the bivouac, could be seen by the rebels at Secessionville, towards which a broken forest and patches of bare sand stretched away. We could see their works, and hear the jocose shouts of their men as they moved about.

On July 16th, the picket-line was formed on the left by a detail from the 10th Connecticut Infantry, and on the right by our own companies K, H, and B, commanded by Simpkins, Russell, and Willard. Just before day, those of us not on duty were roused by a single musket-shot. Two or three followed, then a volley. In an instant the men sprang to their feet, and all down the line the clash of arms and the cries of "Fall in," "fall in," resounded. The fire of musketry in front rose and fell, now in spattering shots, now in rattling volleys, and the bank of field-guns showed that the rebels were in force. A gleam of light was kindling along the gray East, and down the road to the right of my company, straggled a few wounded men, one of them supporting a shattered arm.

A new line was now ordered fifty yards behind our bivouac; my own company was stationed beyond this road, and separated from it and the rest of the regiment by a dense thicket of young trees. The fire continued, and the enemy having pushed forward its artillery, shelled this road vigorously. Some fragments of shell fell near us, doing no injury except to clothing. My men were now for the first time under fire; their officers stood behind them; and after the first shock the heads of the negroes were carried as stiffly as our own. We saw little of this fight. Climbing a tree, showed only the wide salt-marsh and clouds of smoke, but the line itself was interesting. It was connected and perfect, the

dark, earnest faces waiting for the order which should set them face to face with death. Two days after, many of these men lay lifeless on that field, still fronting the foe.

A little to the rear was Stevenson's Brigade with the encampment behind it. Shell and canister were tearing through the trees, when we saw the John Adams, a whilom East Boston ferry-boat, run up the river on our right and open bravely on the left flank of the rebels. The Pawnee was already busy on their right, and the whole force began to fall back. We were ordered forward, and as we filed into and up the road, met the ghastly procession of stretchers bringing in the wounded. Drops of blood oozed slowly through the canvas, and from one litter, arms, stiffened in their death-agony, starkly appealed to Heaven. We pushed forward to the position occupied by our picket-reserves in the morning, and as soon as the new lines were formed, parties were sent out to bring in the dead and wounded. The broad trail of the retreating rebels was strewn with tokens of their hurried march. Here and there a conical pit showed where our shells had burst.

Around the ruined house, which served as a station for the picket-reserves, the men of the companies on the line were fighting the battle over again. Captain Simpkins, a pleasant smile lighting his handsome face, mourned quizzically over a ragged tear in his trousers, and two holes in his rubber coat. While he chatted, one of his own men came along. It was hard to detect the African taint in the straight, brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin of Private Field. His recruiting-officer once asked him why he did not pass himself off as a white man; and his surprised inquiry, “How can I?" showed how little he was conscious of his AngloSaxon blood. His blouse had just been cut open by a bullet, and Simpkins said as he passed, " Field, I am delighted with your bearing to-day." Another private was exhibiting a fine meerschaum picked up where a rebel officer had