[From sketch of Lieut. Henry W. Baker, in Coffin’s History of Boscawen.] The command had been entrusted to Gen. Trueman H. Seymour, who determined to make an assault. He knew nothing of the construction of Ft. Wagner. No information of the impediments to be overcome had reached him. Col. Putnam of the 7th, commanding the second brigade, opposed the contemplated movement.
“I do not think that we can take the fort,” he said; and when Gen. Seymour reiterated his determination to make the attempt, Col. Putnam said, “We shall go like a flock of sheep.”
The sun had set, and the twilight faded. The soldiers were ordered to remove the caps from the nipples of their rifles, and were told that they must depend upon the bayonet alone. In the 100th N. Y., which formed behind the 7th, this order was neglected.
In the darkness the assaulting column moved forward. The iron-clads, and the union batteries opened a heavy fire, which was continued till the column was so near that further firing would endanger it, when, at a signal, all the union batteries became silent. In an instant Ft. Wagner was aflame. Its heavy siege guns, howitzers, and forty-two pounder carronades burst forth, pouring a stream of shot and shell into the advancing troops. And now, in addition, the parapet of the fort swarmed with men, who, through the terrible cannonade of the day had been lying securely beneath the bomb proofs. Mingled with the roar of the cannon were their volleys of musketry.
The first brigade had the advance. Its ranks went down like grass before the mower. Some of the soldiers fled, panic stricken. The second brigade, led by the 7th N. H., pressed on and filled the decimated ranks. Suddenly they found themselves confronted by a ditch fifty feet wide and ten feet deep, with four feet of water flowing into it. Only at the south-eastern angle was it dry. It was enfiladed by howitzers. Into the ditch leaped the soldiers. Grape and canister mowed them down, but others crowded on. The 7th N. H., led by Lt. Col. Joseph C. Abbott, made its way unfalteringly into the ditch, through it, and up the slope of the parapet. Cannon and musketry blazed in their faces; and now there was a flash behind them—the 100th N. Y., not having removed their caps, were firing into the dark mass, not knowing who was friend, who foe. All was confusion. All order disappeared. In the darkness no one could be recognized. Amid the groans of the wounded, the shouting of officers, the rattle of rifles, the roar of cannon, the bursting of shells, it was impossible to maintain discipline. Col. Putnam, a few of his subordinates, and one or two hundred men entered the fort. The enemy charged, but were driven back. Col. Putnam was killed; one officer after another went down. The reserve, which should have rushed up, did not come. The assault had lost its force. Like sheep the union soldiers fled as best they could through the devastating fire, leaving a ghastly heap of dead and wounded in the ditch, and on the parapet of the fort. Among the killed was Henry W. Baker. By his side were Dexter Pritchard, Liberty G. Raymond, and Alexander F. Stevens, from Boscawen, and of his company, also killed.
Among the wounded was Samuel McEvely, and among the prisoners was John Clancy, who died in prison at Richmond.
In his first battle, Lieut. Baker gave his life to his country. Those who served under him speak of him with affection. He was cool and brave, and ever mindful of his duty. He was buried where he fell, with his commander, Col. Putnam, and his subordinates, Pritchard, Raymond, and Stevens.