CHAPTER III.
In a day or two after the return of the First Maryland to the Valley, it was ordered to join the remainder of the “Line,” then encamped at Fisher’s Hill. A short time after, this force was augmented by the arrival of General Albert G. Jenkins, with a fine brigade of Virginia cavalry, and he assumed command of the whole.
Here, for several days, the battalion was quietly employed in doing picket duty, and recruiting man and horse for the campaign that seemed about to be inaugurated. Not an incident of moment occurred, and in a week’s time the command was again ready for the field.
On the 12th of June information was received that the enemy were advancing towards our camp, which had been moved up to Cedar Creek. The infantry and artillery were marched to the vicinity of Middletown, and placed in position, whilst General Jenkins held his cavalry in readiness. After waiting some time, and there being no signs of our pickets (which had just been relieved, and those relieved not yet returned,) falling back, it was naturally concluded the force of the enemy had been greatly exaggerated. Having arrived at this conclusion, General Jenkins was about to order his troops back to camp, when he was startled by the rattle of small arms and the discharge of artillery, some four miles up the road. It was not long before we were made aware of the cause, which I will give the reader as told me by several of the officers and men engaged.
The company from the First Maryland relieved was that of Captain Wm. I. Raisin, which, along with a company from Jenkins’ cavalry, that had also just been relieved, was about to return to camp, when a body of the enemy’s cavalry were observed coming down the turnpike towards them. Information of the fact was immediately sent by Captain Raisin to General Jenkins, who disposed of his troops as before stated. In the meantime, Colonel Harry Gilmor, (who had been sick in bed for several days at Middletown,) hearing of their approach, got up and joined Raisin. For some time that officer manœuvered with the enemy, who fell back as he slowly advanced. Finally, the men, who had become impatient, commenced to move forward at a rapid trot, which the next instant became a gallop, and then a headlong charge, which Raisin’s utmost efforts failed to arrest before the whole command was in the midst of a large body of infantry, in ambuscade, which opened upon them with deadly effect, as did two pieces of artillery. In the greatest confusion the survivors wheeled about, leaving four of their comrades killed and about thirty wounded and prisoners in the hands of the enemy. Among the latter was Captain Raisin, who, whilst bleeding and senseless under his dying horse, was most inhumanly beaten by the wretches into whose hands he had fallen.
I have thus gone into the particulars of this affair for the reason that Colonel Gilmor, in his “Four Years in the Saddle,” asserts that Captain Raisin gave the command to charge, contrary to his (Gilmor’s) judgment, which I believe is doing him injustice, and reflects upon his reputation as an officer. More than one who was close by assure me that he did not, and that it occurred as above stated.
A reason I have for thinking Colonel Gilmor is mistaken in this matter, is the fact that not one week before, whilst in command at Fisher’s Hill, during the absence of Colonel Herbert, and before the arrival of General Jenkins, I had taken Captain Raisin, with his company, and two companies of infantry to lay in ambush, on precisely such an expedition, though unsuccessful, by reason of the enemy not making their appearance, and upon which occasion I cautioned him not to allow them to catch him in a similar trap. Now, it is not likely that an intelligent man like Captain Raisin would so soon have forgotten the expedition and caution of but a week before.
An incident that I am reminded of would lead me to believe that if an order to charge was given, it was given by Harry himself. A few minutes after the affair, I met one of Jenkins’ men by the roadside, lamenting the wounding of a valuable horse, which he was leading. “This is a pretty bad piece of business,” I remarked.
“Y-a-s,” he drawled out, “and may I be darned ef I’m goin’ to foller that thar feller with the spang new yaller clothes any more.”
Harry had just donned a new uniform, mounted with a superabundance of yellow lace.
On the evening of the 12th, the battalion (with the exception of Bond’s company, which was detailed to remain with Colonel Herbert,) was ordered to join General Ewell, who, much to their surprise, was at Front Royal, moving on Winchester. In the skirmishing which ensued around that place, they took an active part.
After the capture of Milroy’s forces, at Winchester, General Jenkins with his command was ordered to precede the army of General Lee into Pennsylvania, and to his command the First Maryland was temporarily assigned. With him the battalion operated for some time, skirmishing with the enemy at various points, and participating in the battle of Gettysburg.
On the retreat from Gettysburg the little battalion was called upon to show of what metal it was composed.
Here, along with other cavalry, in covering the retreat and protecting the immense wagon trains, they were continually engaged with the overwhelming forces of the enemy. Many and terrific were the encounters; but, hand to hand and sabre to sabre, they contested every foot of ground, losing many men in killed, wounded and prisoners. Upon this memorable retreat every officer and every man proved himself a hero. It seems invidious to particularize where so many were truly brave; but still, I will say, that among that heroic band, none shone more conspicuously than Captains George W. Emack and Warner E. Welsh. Fighting desperately, their deeds of daring at times amounted almost to madness.
At length Hagerstown was reached. Upon the very heels of the First Maryland, and Tenth Virginia commanded by Colonel Lucius Davis, pressed the would-be incendiary and assassin, Ulric Dahlgren. Furiously he charged the Confederate column in the very streets of the town. The Tenth Virginia, in the rear, was thrown into confusion, and fell back and passed the command of Captain Bond. But that little band of heroes were not to be affected by the unmanly panic, but moved at the same dogged, determined pace. Bond was but waiting for the Virginians to get by. The enemy were within a hundred yards of him, and an unguarded Confederate wagon train was at their mercy. That wagon train must be saved, for it contained much of General Ewell’s supply of ammunition. “Fours, right-about wheel, march! Charge!” rung out the command; and in an instant the gallant fellows had obeyed the order. Bond, mounted upon his fiery mare, Bertha Rives, was too quick for his followers, and darting like lightning, amid a shower of bullets, he found himself within twenty yards of the astonished enemy before he was able to check her. Here, for an instant, that brave man confronted almost certain death, as the muzzle of his pistol swept from right to left, in search of a victim. He was found, a quick, ringing report is heard, a spasmodic motion of the leg, and Ulric Dahlgren was a cripple for the brief remainder of his wicked life.
All this, reader, did not occupy half the time I have taken to relate it, for in an instant Captain Bond’s men were at his side, and closed with the enemy. A desperate hand-to-hand conflict ensued, but they were driven back in confusion, pursued by the relentless Marylanders, who cut them down at every step. The wagon train was saved, and the command received the congratulations of General Ewell.
Alas! it was but a little while after that the chivalrous Bond was himself wounded and a prisoner. Having passed Hagerstown, whilst riding too far back to the rear, he was struck in the leg by a piece of shell from a Confederate battery which was firing over him, and terribly injured. He was taken back to Hagerstown, where everything was done by the noble women of the place to relieve his sufferings. He eventually recovered, and is now a thriving farmer at his home in Anne Arundel county.