RETURN TO VIRGINIA—INVESTMENT AND CAPTURE OF HARPER'S FERRY
At Harper's Ferry there was a considerable force of the enemy, which place was now evidently the object of the expedition, and which we approached soon after noon on the thirteenth. After the usual delays required in getting troops deployed, our battery was posted on an elevated ridge northwest of Bolivar Heights, the stronghold of the Federals, and confronting their bold array of guns directed toward us.
We opened fire and were answered, but without apparent effect on either side. This was late in the afternoon, and night came on before anything was accomplished. The situation of Harper's Ferry is too well known to require description. Only by a view of its surroundings from some adjacent eminence can one form an idea of its beauty. As we stood by our guns on the morning of the fifteenth we were aware of what had been in progress for the investment of the place, and now, that having been accomplished, we awaited with interest the general assault that was soon to follow.
Directly on the opposite side of Bolivar Heights from where we stood was Loudoun, or Virginia Heights, the extreme north end of the Blue Ridge in Virginia, at the base of which flowed the Shenandoah River, and now held by our artillery, as were also Maryland Heights, across the Potomac, while various lines of infantry lay concealed along the banks of both rivers and intervening valleys, completely enveloping the Federal position.
The morning was still and clear, giving us a full view of the lines of the lofty mountains. Simultaneously the great circle of artillery opened, all firing to a common center, while the clouds of smoke, rolling up from the tops of the various mountains, and the thunder of the guns reverberating among them, gave the idea of so many volcanoes.
The fire of the Federals in the unequal contest made no perceptible impression, not even on the lines of infantry which had begun closing in from all sides for the final charge. Before they (the infantry) were within musket range, a horseman bearing a large piece of tent-cloth swept along the crest of Bolivar Heights. The doubtful color of the flag displayed prevented an immediate cessation of the Confederate fire. It proved to be in token of surrender, but after its appearance I saw a shot from our second piece strike so near a horseman riding at speed along the heights as to envelop horse and rider in its smoke and dust.
The whole affair, devoid, as it was, of ordinary danger, was one of thrilling interest. Our commanding position gave us a full view of the extensive and varied terrain, a thing of rare occurrence to other than general officers. In addition to this, the fact that we had defeated our antagonists, usually in superior numbers, in battle after battle throughout a long campaign, tended to confirm us in the opinion that we could down them every time, and that the contest must, at no distant day, end in our favor. The number of troops surrendered was 11,500, with seventy-three pieces of artillery, sufficient to supply our batteries for some time. It was comparatively a bloodless victory, though the commanding officer, Colonel Miles, was killed at the last moment, and the terms of surrender arranged by General White, who had fallen back to this place from Martinsburg. I saw their artillery as it was driven out and turned over to us, supplied with most excellent equipments, and horses sleek and fat.
As some time would be consumed in handling the prisoners and the transfer of arms and stores, I set out in the afternoon for Charlestown, and, as usual, went to my friends—the Ransons. After a refreshing bath I donned a clean white shirt and a pair of light-checked trousers, and was ready to discuss the events of the campaign with General Lindsay Walker, who was also a guest of the house. About nine o'clock at night I was joined by Dandridge, who had been met in the town by his mother and sisters from "The Bower," and, with light hearts and full haversacks, we set out for camp seven miles distant.
D. Gardiner Tyler
The Ranson family has several times been mentioned in these pages, as their home was a place where, when hungry, I was fed and, when naked, clothed. The oldest son, Tom, now a lawyer in Staunton, Virginia, was my schoolfellow and classmate at college when a boy in Lexington. After receiving a wound at Cross Keys in June, 1862, when a lieutenant in the Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, which incapacitated him for further service in the infantry, he enlisted in the cavalry. By reason of his familiarity with the topography of the country about Harper's Ferry and the lower portion of the Valley, together with his indomitable pluck and steady nerve, he was often employed as a scout, and in this capacity frequently visited his home near Charlestown. The residence, situated, as it was, a quarter of a mile from and overlooking the town, was approached by a wide avenue leading by a gentle ascent to the front gate, which stood about seventy-five yards from the house. Owing to the commanding view thus afforded, it was a favorite place for a Federal picket-post, so that, while a dangerous place for a rebel soldier to venture, it offered many facilities for obtaining valuable information. On one occasion young Ranson spent three days in this home while the Federal pickets were on constant watch day and night at the front gate opening into the lawn, and went in and out of the house at their convenience. Moreover, the negro servants of the family knew of "Marse Tom's" presence, but looked and acted negro ignorance to perfection when catechised.
When standing at a front window one afternoon Tom saw a lady friend of the family approaching the house from the town. On reaching the front gate she, of course, was stopped by the sentinel and, after a parley, refused admittance and required to retrace her steps. Two hours later, much to their surprise, she appeared in the family-room and sank down completely exhausted, having entered the house by a rear door, which she had reached after making a detour of a mile or more to escape the vigilance of the videttes in front. After recovering breath she unburdened herself of her load, which consisted, in part, of a pair of long-legged cavalry boots, late issues of Northern newspapers, etc. This load she had carried suspended from her waist and concealed under the large hoop-skirt then worn by ladies. The newspapers and information of large bodies of Federal troops being hurried by rail past Harper's Ferry were delivered by young Ranson to General Lee on the following day.
Throughout the preceding day, while occupied about Harper's Ferry, we heard heavy cannonading across the Maryland border, apparently eight or ten miles from us. This had increased in volume, and by sunset had evidently advanced toward us, as the sound of musketry was distinctly heard. It proved to be an attack on Gen. D. H. Hill's division and other commands occupying the South Mountain passes. After stubborn resistance the Confederates had been forced to yield. So on reaching camp toward midnight, after our visit to Charlestown, we were not surprised to find the battery preparing to move. With scarcely an hour's delay we were again on the march, heading for Maryland. We arrived at Shepherdstown before dawn, and while halting in the road for half an hour Henry Lewis, driver at my gun, overcome with sleep, fell sprawling from his horse, rousing those about him from a similar condition.