“One personal home coming is worthy of narration here. Charles A. Gates of Lee, a boy of nineteen, wished to enlist, but his parents were unwilling , so one spring morning he drove the cows to pasture and then went to peeling bark from certain fallen trees on the hillside. But he was lonesome and could not get the idea of enlisting out of his head, so leaving the bark and cows he proceeded to the rendezvous and joined his fellows. He served his term without a furlough, did not receive a scratch and, when the jubilation in Springfield was over, he took the cars for Becket, crossed over the hills afoot to Lee and, nearing his home at cow - time, drove up the herd with gun on shoulder and knapsack on his back after an absence of three years” *ROE p. 298* This story was made into a lithographed picture which was sold throughout the country.

Corporal Mark Nickerson, Co. A, was one of Gates' best friends. He recounts his impressions of Gates in "Recollections of the Civil War by a High Private in the Front Ranks", page 32.

"My right hand man was Chas Gates from Lee, Mass. He was one of my chums, was about my age and I thought a great deal of him. As brave a boy as ever shouldered a gun. During the second charge of the enemy he suddenly put his hand to his face, withdrew it, looked at it, and then said to me, 'Nick, I guess I am a goner.' I saw blood flowing down his face as he fell out of the ranks, and thought to myself 'Shall I ever see him alive again?' It unnerved me. He was the best friend I had in the army, and I shouldn't believe he was a goner until I had to.

I wanted to follow him and see how badly he was wounded, but the enemy was coming nearer and I must stay in my place and help to beat them back. As I was thinking of Gates and what a good friend he had been to me, suddenly he stepped back into his place again and said to me, 'Nick, it is nothing serioous. I'm all right. I'm worth a dozen men yet.' I was so glad I didn't know how to express myself. If there had been a lull in the battle I believe I should have dropped my gun and hugged him then and there. (Remember we were scarcely more than boys.) But the enemy was coming nearer all the time and that meant business for the 'Blue Coats.' I just slapped him on the back and said, 'Bully for you, now we will give it to them.' And give it to them we did, for we worked like beavers, loading and firing for all we were worth. The blood and sweat rolling off his face made him a ghastly spectacle to behold."