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

YANKEE FLAGS

On the 20th of May, Terry's Brigade marched through Richmond, each regiment proudly carrying a Yankee flag, captured on the 16th of May. The brigade marched into the Capitol Square, where there was assembled a great crowd of Congressmen, high Confederate dignitaries, and others. The troops were massed in columns of regiments, and there, beneath the grand equestrian statue of Washington, these flags were delivered to the War Department officials. I have no doubt that if Washington was there in spirit, he looked on approvingly.

That afternoon part of the brigade went by train to Hanover Junction, where troops were assembling from different quarters to reënforce General Lee, who had been fighting and holding his own for nearly three weeks against tremendous odds. But his ranks had been greatly depleted, while Grant's army was being reënforced almost daily. Gen. John C. Breckenridge was here with his troops also. It was said Breckenridge was the handsomest man in the army; some of Company C saw him here and declared he was the finest-looking man they ever saw. I could have seen him by walking a hundred or two yards, but did not do so, being very tired and worn out generally, and sad on account of the loss of seven good men a few days before.

CHAPTER XVI
To Milford and to Capture—A Prisoner of
War—On to Washington

The same afternoon we arrived at Hanover Junction, the First Virginia Regiment and five companies of the Eleventh, A, B, C, E and K, under the command of Major Norten, of the First Regiment, boarded the cars and went to Milford Station in Caroline County, on the Richmond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad, arriving there about night, and going into camp across the Mattapony River, just west of the station. The Mattapony here is quite a small stream, spanned by a wooden bridge. The First Regiment at that time was very small, numbering perhaps not over 100 to 150 men. The five companies of the Eleventh Regiment numbered about eighty-five or ninety men—Plymouth and Drury's Bluff had depleted their ranks. Pickets were posted on the roads, and there were some cavalry videts still farther out. The rest of the command bivouacked in the woods a short distance from the bridge.

Early the next morning, the 21st of May, 1864, the cavalry videts came in and reported the Yankees were making a raid on the station with the intention of burning it. Major Norten declared they should not do this, and made his dispositions to prevent it, posting the men of the First Regiment to repel the attack on the station, while the companies of the Eleventh were held in reserve.

It was not long before the supposed raiders made their appearance. At first they were few in number and shot at long range, firing on the First Regiment at the bridge from a grove on a hill some 600 yards away, with long-range guns, dropping a few balls about them, while too far away for them to return the fire with their muskets. Major Norten ordered up the reserves, directing them to "Take that hill and hold it at all hazards"—a very positive and unwise order, I thought.

The five companies of the Eleventh Regiment crossed over the bridge, formed in line of battle, and moved forward at double-quick across the broad river bottom, crossing over the railroad track right up to this hill, taking possession of it without firing a single gun, the few Yankees who occupied it retreating before the line was in shooting distance.

As soon as the hill was occupied, no Yankees being in sight, I walked up on the northeast side of the grove of trees and saw half a mile away, thousands of Yankee cavalry; the hills were blue with them. It turned out to be General Torbet's Division, the advance division of Grant's army, instead of a raid to burn Milford Station. I went back and told Capt. Bob Mitchell, of Company A, who was the ranking officer, that we could not hold that hill—that there were ten thousand Yankees over on the next hill. Mitchell replied, "We have orders to hold the hill at all hazards." I said, "All right, we will all be captured." I have often thought Captain Mitchell should have sent a messenger to inform Major Norten of the situation, but he did not. The Yankee skirmishers, dismounted cavalry, soon began to advance on two sides of the hill, when a long-range skirmish began, which continued for some time, growing hotter as the Yankees approached nearer and nearer, protecting themselves behind trees and whatever they could. They were held at bay for an hour or more. During this time the Confederates had several men wounded. The Yankees were being hit also. Captain Mitchell was shot in the chin and left the hill. Lieutenant Atkins, of Company K, was also wounded. I saw him clap his hand on his side as the ball struck him. I never learned his fate, and I am not certain that I have his name correct, but know he was a lieutenant of Company K. Capt. Thomas B. Horton, of Company B, was next in command. Going again to the crest of the hill, on the northeast side, I saw a regiment of dismounted Yankee cavalry forming in line of battle a few hundred yards away; a colonel or general with gray hair and mustache was riding along the rear of the men getting them into position, the men seeming very awkward and hard to get straightened out. I called up one of Company C, either Tom Rosser or Sam Franklin, both good fighters, and told him to raise the sight of his Enfield rifle to 400 yards and shoot that officer. The order was obeyed promptly; I did not see the result of the shot however. Just as he fired, one of Company B, who was lying on the ground on the crest of the hill firing at the enemy, in a few feet of where I was standing, attracted my attention by calling out at the top of his voice, "Run here, ambulance corps; run here, ambulance corps." Seeing he had only a scalp wound on the side of the head, and thinking a man who could call out so lustily for the ambulance corps to come to his aid, although his head was bleeding profusely, could aid himself by getting up and running, I told him so, whereupon he jumped up and ran like a deer off the hill. I suppose he got away safely.

The men of the companies were scattered around on the hill, among the trees, embracing about an acre in area, without any regard to lines, fighting on the Indian style, some protecting themselves behind trees, some lying down, while most of them stood out in the open, watching for and shooting at every Yankee who showed himself within range. The Yankees, too, were under cover as much as possible with longer range guns than ours, slipping around behind trees, bushes and fences, and at every opportunity popping away at the Confederates, all the while getting a little closer and extending their lines around the hill. They were not very good shots, however.

Captain Horton and myself consulted, or held a small council of war, upon the situation. It was beyond question that if we remained on the hill, all would be killed or made prisoners in a short time. Some, or all of us, might escape by beating a hasty retreat. We agreed to try the latter, orders or no orders. Turning to the men who were by this time pretty close together about the center of the hill, with the Yankees still closing in, we told them we would all make a break and attempt to escape. Many of the men so earnestly demurred to this, saying, "We will all be killed as we run across the bottom," that Captain Horton and myself concluded not to make the attempt. I said to the men, "We will stay with you then." Near the top of the hill there was a ditch leading from what appeared to be an old icehouse, and in this ditch we made the last stand and fought the Yankees until they were close up. I remember Marion Seay, of Company E, who still lives in Lynchburg, was at the upper end of the ditch, shooting at a Yankee not thirty steps away, and then calling out and pointing his finger, saying, "D—n you, I fixed you," repeating it several times. Seay was then a little tow-headed boy, but he was game to the backbone.

Pretty soon our men ceased firing, as all knew that the inevitable had come. The Yankees then rushed up to the ditch, and all the Confederates dropped their guns—the seventy-five men left were prisoners of war.

I think we were justifiable in surrendering. If we had fought until the last man fell, nothing would have been accomplished for the good of the cause. There was no possibility of rescue, so it was die in that ditch in a few minutes or surrender; we chose not to die then and there. It was not a forlorn hope we were leading or defending, which demanded such a sacrifice of life.

As the Yankees came up, one of their men was shot through the head, and fell dead into the ditch; killed, I think, by one of his own men who was some distance off, firing, as he thought, at the Rebels. Some of the Confederates were bespattered with the brains of the dead Yankee.

At Plymouth, N. C., thirty-one days before, and again just five days before, at Drury's Bluff, we had been at the capture of brigades of Yankees, and exulted in the captures—now the tables are turned and we are prisoners, and the Yankees are exulting at our capture. Such are the fortunes of war.

I can testify that the sensations of the captors are very different from those of the captives, but shall not attempt to set forth the contrast; words are inadequate.

The Yankees said they had thirty-five or forty men killed and wounded in the fight; so that for every "Rebel" captured that day, they had half a man killed or crippled—not a bad showing for the "Rebs," if they did surrender, when outnumbered by more than one hundred to one. I don't remember that we had any killed on the field; nearly all the wounded got away.

Capt. Thos. B. Horton, Company B; Lieut. Peter Akers, Company A, and Lieuts. J. W. Wray and Geo. P. Norvell, of Company E., were captured. I have no means of getting the names of the men of the other companies captured.

Beside myself, the following men of Company C were captured: W. L. Brown, G. T. Brown, J. A. Brown, H. M. Callaham, H. Eads, J. T. Jones, J. W. Jones, W. S. Kabler, Fred Kabler, W. T. Monroe, R. W. Morgan, S. P. Tweedy, E. A Tweedy, W. A. Rice, W. C. J. Wilkerson—seventeen in all. W. L. Brown and S. P. Tweedy were wounded; the former slightly, the latter a bad flesh wound in the thigh. Some of the company were on picket duty and escaped capture, and some who were wounded got away, others were at home, or in hospitals, sick or wounded.

Not long ago, in looking over some old papers and letters, I found a letter written by Lieut. Robert Cocke to my wife, telling her about the fight and capture; it is dated the 22d of May. Among other things he says: "I was sent out the night before to guard a road that the Yankees were expected to come, but fortunately for the Yankees, they did not come that way; if it had not been for that, I would have been taken or killed myself, I expect."

Our negro boy, Horace, just as we were ordered forward to charge the hill, came up to me and said, "Where must I go?" I replied, "Stay with the surgeon." There were no wagons with us, with which he usually stayed. Horace, after we were captured, made his way home, taking with him what little baggage I had left in his care.

Thus ended my experience as a Confederate soldier in the field. I had been in active service for three years and more.