CIRCUITOUS NIGHT MARCH—FIRST DAY OF SECOND MANASSAS—ARRIVAL OF LONGSTREET'S CORPS
Here we halted long enough for a hurried breakfast for men and horses. Sleep did not seem to enter into Jackson's calculations, or time was regarded as too precious to be allowed for it. We were on the move again by noon and approaching the scene of the battle of July, 1861. This was on Thursday, August 26, 1862, and a battle was evidently to open at any moment. In the absence of Henry, our gunner, who was sick and off duty, I was appointed to fill his place. And it was one of the few occasions, most probably the only one during the war, that I felt the slightest real desire to exclaim, with the Corporal at Waterloo, "Let the battle begin!" About two P.M. we went into position, but, before firing a shot, suddenly moved off, and, marching almost in a semi-circle, came up in the rear of the infantry, who were now hotly engaged. This was the beginning of the second battle of Manassas, during the first two days of which, and the day preceding, Jackson's command was in great suspense, and, with a wide-awake and active foe, would have been in great jeopardy. He was entirely in the rear of the Federal army, with only his own corps, while Longstreet had not yet passed through Thoroughfare Gap, a narrow defile miles away. The rapid and steady roll of the musketry, however, indicated that there was no lack of confidence on the part of his men, though the line of battle had changed front and was now facing in the opposite direction from the one held a few hours before. Moving through a body of woods toward the firing-line we soon began meeting and passing the stream of wounded men making their way to the rear. And here our attention was again called to a singular and unaccountable fact, which was noticed and remarked repeatedly throughout the war. It was that in one battle the large majority of the less serious wounds received were in the same portion of the body. In this case, fully three-fourths of the men we met were wounded in the left hand; in another battle the same proportion were wounded in the right hand; while in another the head was the attractive mark for flying bullets, and so on. I venture the assertion that every old soldier whose attention is called to it will verify the statement.
The battle was of about two hours in duration, and by sundown the firing had entirely ceased, the enemy being driven from the field, leaving their dead and wounded. The infantry of the Stonewall Brigade had been in the thickest of it all and had suffered severe loss.
Willie Preston, of the College company, less than eighteen years of age, a most attractive and promising youth, received a mortal wound. His dying messages were committed to Hugh White, the captain of his company, who, two days later, was himself instantly killed. On the ground where some of the heaviest fighting took place there stood a neat log-house, the home of a farmer's family. From it they had, of course, hurriedly fled, leaving their cow and a half-grown colt in the yard. Both of these were killed. I saw, also on this field, a dead rabbit and a dead field-lark—innocent victims of man's brutality!
A quiet night followed, and, except for those of us who were on guard, the first unbroken rest we had had for almost a week. Next morning, after breakfasting leisurely, we went into position opposite the enemy, occupying a long range of hills too distant for serious damage. But, after we had shelled each other for half an hour, one of our infantry regiments emerged from the woods a short distance to our right and stood in line of battle most needlessly exposed. In less than five minutes a shell burst among them, killing and wounding eleven men. This over, we moved to a haystack nearby, where our horses had more than one refreshing feed during lulls in the battle. It seemed, also, an attractive place for General Jackson, as he was seldom far from it till the close of the battle on the following day.
An hour later, while engaged in another artillery encounter, our detachment received a very peremptory and officious order from Major Shoemaker, commanding the artillery of the division. My friend and former messmate, W. G. Williamson, now a lieutenant of engineers, having no duty in that line to perform, had hunted us up, and, with his innate gallantry, was serving as a cannoneer at the gun. Offended at Shoemaker's insolent and ostentatious manner, we answered him as he deserved. Furious at such impudence and insubordination, he was almost ready to lop our heads off with his drawn sword, when Williamson informed him that he was a commissioned officer and would see him at the devil before he would submit to such uncalled-for interference.
"If you are a commissioned officer," Shoemaker replied, "why are you here, working at a gun?"
"Because I had not been assigned to other duty," was Williamson's reply, "and I chose to come back, for the time being, with my old battery."
"Then I order you under arrest for your disrespect to a superior officer!" said Shoemaker.
The case was promptly reported to General Jackson, and Williamson as promptly released. The bombastic major had little idea that among the men he was so uselessly reprimanding was a son of General Lee, as well as Lieutenant Williamson, who was a nephew of Gen. Dick Garnett, who was later killed in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. This episode over, we again drove to the haystack.
These repeated advances and attacks made by the enemy's artillery plainly showed that they realized that our situation was a hazardous one, of which we, too, were fully aware, and unless Longstreet should soon show up we felt that the whole of Pope's army would soon be upon us. While quietly awaiting developments, we heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and, as a courier galloped up to General Jackson, to announce Longstreet's approach, the cloud of red dust raised by his vanguard in the direction of Thoroughfare Gap assured us that he would soon be at hand. Before he reached the field, however, and while we were enjoying the sense of relief at his coming, one of the enemy's batteries had quietly and unobserved managed to get into one of the positions occupied by our battery during the morning. Their first volley, coming from such an unexpected quarter, created a great commotion. Instantly we galloped to their front and unlimbered our guns at close range. Other of our batteries fired a few shots, but soon ceased, all seeming intent on witnessing a duel between the two batteries of four guns each. Their position was the more favorable, as their limbers and caissons were behind the crest of the hill, while we were on level ground with ours fully exposed. Each man worked as if success depended on his individual exertions, while Captain Poague and Lieutenant Graham galloped back and forth among the guns, urging us to our best efforts. Our antagonists got our range at once, and, with their twelve-pound Napoleon guns, poured in a raking fire. One shell I noticed particularly as it burst, and waited a moment to observe its effects as the fragments tore by. One of them struck Captain Poague's horse near the middle of the hip, tearing an ugly hole, from which there spurted a stream of blood the size of a man's wrist. To dismount before his horse fell required quick work, but the captain was equal to the occasion. Another shell robbed Henry Boteler of the seat of his trousers, but caused the shedding of no blood, and his narrow escape the shedding of no tears, although the loss was a serious one. Eugene Alexander, of Moorefield, had his thigh-bone broken and was incapacitated for service. Sergeant Henry Payne, a splendid man and an accomplished scholar, was struck by a solid shot just below the knee and his leg left hanging by shreds of flesh. An hour later, when being lifted into an ambulance, I heard him ask if his leg could not be saved, but in another hour he was dead.
After an hour of spirited work, our antagonists limbered up and hurried off, leaving us victors in the contest. Lieutenant Baxter McCorkle galloped over to the place to see what execution we had done, and found several dead men, as many or more dead horses, and one of their caissons as evidences of good aim; and brought back with him a fine army-pistol left in the caisson. When the affair was over, I found myself exhausted and faint from over-exertion in the hot sun. Remembering that my brother David had brought along a canteen of vinegar, gotten in the big capture of stores a few days before, and, thinking a swallow of it would revive me, I went to him and asked him to get it for me. Before I was done speaking, the world seemed to make a sudden revolution and turn black as I collapsed with it. My brother, thinking I was shot, hurried for the vinegar, but found the canteen, which hung at the rear of a caisson, entirely empty; it, too, having been struck by a piece of shell, and even the contents of the little canteen demanded by this insatiable plain.