Civil War Veteran
Co H 4th Iowa Infantry
----------------
From Military Records:
Campbell, Horace B.
Age 24.
Residence Quincy,Iowa
Nativity Ohio.
Enlisted July 13, 1861
Mustered Aug. 15, 1861 Council Bluffs,Iowa.
Promoted Third Sergeant July 23, 1862.
Killed in battle Dec. 29, 1862,
Chickasaw Bayou, Miss.
----------------
Probably buried in mass grave at battle site.
Then exhumed and moved to Vicksburg National Cemetery in 1867 possibly as unknown.
----------------
Rufus Ewing Campbell (his brother),Frances M, George W, and James R Campbell(possibly cousins) all enlisted into same company of 4th Iowa Infantry.
Frances was wounded Pea Ridge, Ark 1862 and tranferred to invalid corps 1864. George W died of dysentery 1865 Savannah,GA. Rufus Ewing was killed Ringgold,GA 1863. James R killed 1862 Pea Ridge,Ark.
-----------------
(Additional information and following poem courtesy of Wendy Millard #47481364)

When Horace was killed, his oldest brother Benjamin who was also serving in the Civil War wrote a poem home to his wife Betty. The poem has been handed down through the family. Here it is:
"Dearest Betty, I address you,
and my good old Mother too.
Brothers, sisters and my children,
Listen while I speak to you.

I am here in this rude cabin,
Far from those I love so dear.
Of the death of my dear brother,
Just last Sabbath I did hear.

On the bloody field of Vicksburg,
That he stood a beacon light,
And he fell a priceless victim,
To that more than worthless fight.

To the rashness of one Sherman,
Many fell a sacrifice.
And a thousand hearts are mourning,
Friends that fell no more to rise.

Oh, my brother, I remember,
All your virtues pure and true.
Who that knew thee could but love thee,
In your heart affection grew.

Betty, how he loved our children,
How their prattle cheered his heart.
To my brother they were crying,
He was there to take their part.

But his lonely form lies buried
Near the Battle's awful roar,
But his happy spirit shining
Brightly on the other shore.

Horace, dear, can we forget you,
All your kindness and your love,
Your sweet smiles will never leave us,
Til we meet with you above.

Then dear friends, let's not deplore him,
Though his loss to us was great.
Yet the thoughts of my dear brother,
In my troubled heart doth wait.

Now me thinks I almost see him,
Can it be that he is gone?
Yet no more can we enjoy him,
Death has claimed him for it's own.

But I think that nere a better,
Fell while bravely charging on.
Victory seemed to be his motto,
But his work on Earth is done.

On the twenty-ninth December,
While in battle charging fast,
In his manly side was wounded,
And that wound has proved his last.

Thus he fell while nobly fighting,
And the last we heard he said,
Spoke to one kind friend just by him,
Was "My God, my God, I'm dead".

Now farewell, our much loved Horace,
All thy joy we cannot see.
But although we now are parted,
Yet in Heaven we hope to be.

"May see proper to sing to the tune of "James _? (illegible)_" Betty, I did not write this thinking it worthy to be sung but I did in rememberance of our brother."