Remembering The Return of the 114th Regiment (June 1865)
Chenango Union, Norwich, NY, September 18, 1873
Three or four thousand people, it may be, witnessed the Reunion of last Wednesday. Half of you, perhaps, remember that beautiful day in June 1865, when the veterans of the 114th were welcomed home. After a long forenoon of wagon travel from Chenango Forks, they dismounted near the cemetery [Mount Hope], and quickly formed in line for their last march. We remember being there as they drove up - of looking about for familiar faces - and then hurrying back to the village for a better view. On a house top we waited their coming.
"Heavy and solemn, / A cloudy column" they seemed as they came first in sight over the iron bridge, and under the evergreen arch of "Welcome," marching through clouds of dust and crowds of people. Many of them were in fatigue dress, and the faces of all were browned by life in the South. The old 114th that had gone out from our own homes and from which we had watched so eagerly for news through those years of fighting and life among the bayous of Louisiana or in the fields and swamps of Virginia, was before us, rapidly passing through military maneuvers, forming and reforming. Now they are sweeping the streets with their lines, now marching in files of four. In their movements so like parts of one nerved body as to call forth the admiration of all. "They don't act much as they did in sixty-two," says one, and a smile lights his face as he thinks of the awkward moves and turns of three years before.
Ahead were the Regimental officers, led by the escort of Norwich music. The band of the Regiment was playing the same old tunes that had cheered the boys in the South. In the center of the column were the Regimental colors, State and National, blown, torn and shot, till a sacred glory seemed to veil their tangled shreds. Between them was borne a beautiful silken flag, embroidered with the names of their battles, presented on their way home - a tribute to the bravery of Chenango's sons, but its beauty was dimmed between those soiled and tattered rags. As they passed up the street, an occasional nod of recognition would pass between some in the ranks and a friend outside. The Regiment halted on the green in front of the Court House [Norwich, Chenango Co. NY], where they had stood twice in other days, and were formally welcomed home.
Nearly always, when we recall the scenes of that day, there comes into the mind the memory of others; the Monday morning early in 1861, when Capt. Tyrrell's company stood in line on the green, and then marched away - our first offering; the gathering of the 114 in the summer and fall of 1862; the first payday - the sermon to the Regiment in the Baptist Church, by Rev. A.N. Benedict, on the Sunday before going; the parting ceremonies on the succeeding Saturday afternoon; the separation of friends and the departure from the banks of the canal on South Main Street that evening; after that, the imposing display at the funeral of their leader, Col. Smith, who had fallen while acting commander of Weitzel's heroic Brigade; the rejoicings at Lee's surrender and the village hung in black so soon after; we think of Fort Bisland; the siege and storming of Port Hudson; sickness in the lowlands; the transfer to Virginia; Opequan, Cedar Creek, and the battles of the forty who had gone, and the hundreds afterwards added, there was left together only this body of three or four hundred. These few seemed grander to us than the thousand. Why? Because they were veterans, and among those who had gained for this the reputation of being one of the first Regiments in the service.
After the reception, and also before, during the march, we were treated to such an exhibition of skillfully executed military tactics as had never before been witnessed in the valley. We remember the deep words of command, sounding so heavy, grum, and so like one another, that it seemed impossible to tell one order from another, yet so quickly repeated along the lines, and as readily obeyed. The decorations, the crowds, and the Regiment, as seen from the belfry of the Baptist Church, were beautiful. The march was then resumed along West Main Street to the old Fair Grounds, where a dinner had been provided. After dinner we had been promised a dress parade, but a hard shower prevented. The boys had gone through their last exercise, and soon after separated.
That was one of those rare times of rejoicing which strike down deep in one's feelings - far different from ordinary displays, for it touched those recollections, bitter because personal, or glad because they were the death of fear and fulfillment of hope. Of the recognition of friends and the meeting of those nearer than friends, you that were there have vivid remembrances. Seven years after, all that showed of the regiment we welcomed then, was an occasional light blue overcoat or pair of trousers, worn by someone passing by, and eight years has brought a reunion.
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