Personal Reminiscences of the War of 1861-5 / In Camp—en Bivouac—on the March—on Picket—on the Skirmish Line—on the Battlefield—and in Prison

by W. H. Morgan

UNDER SHELLING

Throughout the whole day the Yankees shelled these positions at intervals of every five or ten minutes.

In the afternoon the two brigades and the Twenty-fourth Regiment crossed over the run, formed in column of regiments and lay down in the woods, expecting every moment to be ordered forward and charge the battery in front, the shells from which were continually bursting among the tree-tops, cutting off branches, these, and the fragments of shells, falling around, now and then striking some one.

I remember how sleepy I was, lying there in the woods that hot July day, often dozing between the shots. We had slept but little the past three nights. The boom of the guns, the scream of the shells, the dull thud of the pieces striking the ground and sometimes a man, was enough to awake the dead almost, and made all lie low and hug mother earth pretty closely, but still I dozed between shots.

It is surprising how close men can get to the ground when lying under a good, brisk shelling; great affection seems to be manifested for the dust, from which all sprung. At such times, a lizard, when rocked by a boy, never laid flatter on a fence rail than the soldiers lay on the ground. It was afterwards said, that orders were sent Jones and Longstreet to advance on the enemy's left near Centreville, but the order was not delivered; it was conjectured that the messenger was killed by a shell.

All day at Blackburn's Ford we could hear the battle raging up the run to the left; the booming of cannon, the explosion of the shells, and the noise of the musketry could be distinctly heard.

Sometimes the sounds would die down, the musketry firing amounting to little more than a sharp skirmish; then again the noise of the battle would rise higher and louder, sometimes drawing nearer and then recede and die down almost entirely, then fiercely rise again, while the loud peals of the battery in our front waked the echoes far and near. All this time the strain and suspense were terrible; no tidings as to how the battle was going came to us; no news came, only the roar of the battle two or three miles away could be heard. I thought this fight was the biggest that had ever occurred in the history of the world; others were of the same opinion. Col. Bob Preston in the midst of the battle remarked to Colonel Withers, as I heard Colonel Withers relate afterwards, that "the battle of Waterloo was a mere skirmish to it." I could not conceive on the 18th, while the fighting was in progress, how any could escape where so much shooting was going on. And, now on this, the 21st, the shooting was going on all day.

What must be the result! How many dead and dying were lying on the field of strife? Were our friends getting the best of the fight, or were the Yankees going to be victorious? How soon would we be called into action, and charge through the open fields up "to the very cannon's mouth"? And what would be the result? Would we capture the battery and drive away the infantry support, or be repulsed and driven back? Who and how many would be left on the field wounded, bleeding, dying and dead? All this and much more we had time to think of on that hot, never-to-be-forgotten 21st day of July, 1861. This was one of the days that the sun seemed to stand still, or move slower than usual. I never saw our company, regiment or brigade falter in battle or fail to respond to any call, but I never saw them "eager for the fight," as it is sometimes expressed. My observation of men, and my own feelings on the eve of the battle, going into the fight, or in the midst of strife, was that the bravest realized the danger and dreaded the fiery ordeal, yet did their duty when bidden.

Dr. W. H. Taylor in his "Experiences of an Assistant Surgeon," says, "I freely admit that I was never in a battle but that I should have felt the most exultant joy if I had been out of it." I freely concur in this statement as to myself and all whom I observed in battle.