flag, which was carried through the storms of battle, and returned at
the close of the war to the State.

On the first day of January, 1864, the regiment was ordered to report to
General Beaufort at Helena, Ark., becoming a part of the garrison of
that place until the following March.

One Sergeant Phillips, with some others, agitated the propriety of
refusing to accept the seven dollars per month offered them by the
Government, and of refusing to do duty on account of it. Sergeant
Barton, however, held it was better to serve without pay than to refuse
duty, as the enforcement of the President's Emancipation Proclamation
was essential to the freedom of the negro race. To this latter the
regiment agreed, and passed concurrent resolutions, which quelled a
discussion which otherwise might have led to mutiny.

While the regiment was at Helena it took part in several skirmishes and
captured a number of prisoners. In July, Colonel W. S. Brooks, in
command of the 56th, 60th, and a detachment of the 3rd Artillery Phalanx
Regiment, with two field guns, sallied out of Helena and proceeded down
the Mississippi River, to the mouth of White River, on a transport. Here
the troops disembarked. The next morning, after marching all night,
Brooks halted his command for breakfast; arms were stacked and the men
became scattered over the fields. Suddenly, General Dobbins, at the head
of a superior confederate force, made an attack upon them; the
confederates at first formed no regular line of battle, but rushed
pell-mell on the scattered federals, intending, doubtless, to annihilate
them at once. The Union men soon recovered their arms, but before they
got into line, their commander, Colonel Brooks, had been killed, and
Captain Ransey of Co. C, 60th Regiment, assumed command. The men of the
Phalanx, though they had had but a short time to rest from a long march,
rallied with the ardor of veterans, and fought with that desperation
that men display when they realize that the struggle is either victory
or death. It was not a question of numbers with them; it was one of
existence, and the Phalanx resolved itself into a seeming column of iron
to meet the foe as it rushed over the bodies of their dead and wounded
with the rage of madmen.

The two field guns, skillfully handled by black artillery-men, did good
work, plowing huge furrows through the assailants and throwing them into
confusion at every charge. Still the confederates, having fina