We’re soldiers of the first Connecticut, and had followed Col. Huntington since that spring day in ’76 when we marched to Boston. We were on Dorchester Heights when the lobsterbacks finally left. We were at Long Island when they marched around our left and attacked us from the rear. The only thing that kept me from dying that day was nightfall. They were to renew the attack in the morning, but two days of rain poured down, and we made our escape in small boats to Manhattan. They attacked us there and we retreated to New Jersey. We fought, bled, and died, and then retreated again and again.

We crossed the Delaware River that December just as the Hessians came up to attack us. I was in the same clothes I wore when I had marched away from Norwich in April. Eustace, who had lost his shoes in the mud of Long Island, had his feet wrapped in rags. His toes had turned black, and he had a hard time walking. We were cold, wet and hungry. Those lucky enough to have tents slept in them. We weren’t among the lucky.