CHAPTER VI.
That night the troops slept upon their arms, prepared to resume hostilities or repel an attack at a moment’s notice. Colonel Herbert and myself selected a spot somewhat retired from the main body, and, after picketing the horses, laid ourselves down to sleep. To sleep, did I say? To rest I should have said, for it was many hours ere I closed my eyes in sleep. A thousand recollections of the past presented themselves. I thought of home and the loved ones there; of many incidents attending the two eventful years of carnage and bloodshed through which I had been spared where so many died. Truly God had been merciful, and I offered up a silent prayer that I might survive the fight of the coming morrow. And then I thought of the hundreds around me who were taking their last sleep save that which knows no waking; of those in dream, dreaming of their once happy homes, of wives and children, of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and sweethearts, but to awake in the morning only to the dread reality.
At early dawn I arose from my blanket hungry and unrefreshed. The Colonel appeared in the same condition, for after rubbing his eyes and looking around him for a minute he broke forth with:
“Why in the devil didn’t you think of making old man Sheeley give you some of the cooked provisions out of the mess chest? Now the wagons are the Lord knows where, and here we are sucking our thumbs to appease hunger. I can go twenty-four hours without eating, but darned if I like it to be an hour over that time.”
“And pray, sir, why didn’t you ask Mr. Sheeley for some of the provisions in the mess chest?” I inquired.
“Because I didn’t think of it.”
“And neither did I; but if you will promise to say nothing more about Sheeley and the mess chest I will introduce you to a little private arrangement of my own.”
The Colonel looked up inquiringly for a moment, and although he said nothing, I could plainly read in his countenance “Oh do.”
At the battle of Winchester, some weeks previous, I secured a number of large sized boxes of sardines, all of which I had given away, save one. This I had in my saddle pocket, along with a small flask of brandy that I procured as we passed through Greenvillage. I had kept it a secret, for on the march you have plenty of visitors if you are known to possess a flask of liquor. Here was an emergency, however, and it was for an emergency I had saved it. The flask and sardines were speedily produced, and for the first time in twenty-four hours I saw the Colonel smile. And then he took the cork out of the flask, threw back his head and smiled again, and, as he lowered the uplifted arm, I discovered considerable daylight through the bottle he had smiled at. Ahem, like master like man, and I followed his example. Then the sardines were discussed, and we grew amiably disposed, and we talked and talked about—everybody and everything but Sheeley and his mess chest.
The morning wore away and there were no evidences of a renewal of hostilities. About ten o’clock, General Johnson requested me to make a reconnoissance from a hill about three-quarters of a mile in our front. Being perfectly familiar with the country, having hunted over almost every foot of it in my youth, I put spurs to my gallant sorrel, and, making a detour to the right, I after a few minutes rapid riding reached its summit. Here screened from the enemy’s view by an undergrowth of cherry trees, I witnessed a sight I shall ever remember. In front of me, distant about half a mile, was the long ridge leading to cemetery heights, and then cemetery heights themselves. This ridge and the heights were crowned with innumerable batteries of artillery, and immediately in rear of them a long dark mass of infantry, their bayonets glittering in the sun. I was on the ridge which separated the contending armies, and never before upon the eve of battle was I so struck with the advantages one army had over the other in point of position, save at Fredericksburg. In fact the thing was about reversed except in the numbers of assailants. It was almost impossible for us to find position for a single battery on our left or in our centre. The spot upon which I stood was the only one in front of Johnson, and a battery could hardly live here an hour, as was demonstrated that day. For at least twenty minutes I gazed upon the opposite heights, where all seemed life and animation, and then turned my horse’s head and galloped back to where I had left the General, and to whom I made my report. As the coast was clear, in company with Major Latimer, his chief of artillery, he proceeded to the hill, and shortly after ordered up two batteries of artillery, one the Chesapeake artillery, under command of the lamented Captain Brown, of Baltimore.
During the afternoon Colonel Herbert proposed we should visit General Walker, of the Stonewall Brigade, which was in position a short distance to our left, and if possible procure something to eat, as we were suffering very much from hunger, having partaken of no food except the sardines since the morning of the day before. We found the General in pretty much the same predicament, but his Adjutant-General very kindly furnished us with two biscuits apiece, which were thankfully accepted. In the course of the conversation which ensued, mutual surprise was expressed that the attack had not been renewed.
“However,” said Walker, “it is not too late; and I think it possible it will yet be made before nightfall.”
Now these late-in-the-evening fights are the most disagreeable things imaginable, as will readily be conceded by all who have participated in them, and I sincerely hoped the General’s prediction would not be verified. In the first place, you are as liable to shoot and be shot by friend as by foe. Moreover, the inextricable confusion inevitable is unpleasant, for you are more likely to get into the enemy’s lines than keep in your own, and I saw many instances of it that night.
While we were conversing, some of the pickets brought in a prisoner, an ill-favored, brutal looking Dutchman, who had been pounced upon while out foraging. The fellow appeared relieved at the idea of escaping the fight, for drawing a long breath he said:
“Ich been feel mooch besser; I like not mooch fight.”
Upon our inquiring why Hooker had been superceded by Meade, he replied:
“Vat for he let der Lee in Pennsylvany coom?”
The prisoner could not or would not give us any information upon many points we questioned him. He only knew that he belonged to a “Pennsylvany” regiment in the “Oonan” army. So much and no more could his intelligent mind comprehend.
“It is too bad,” exclaimed “Walker, rather excitedly, “to think that such men as we have around us should be butchered by the miserable mercenary devils of which this is a fair specimen. Sometimes I am half inclined to show the wretches no quarter. Take the creature to the rear.”
Expressing a mutual wish that fortune would favor us in the coming fight, we separated, not to meet again for many months.
Soon after reaching the battalion Capt. W. H. Murray, of whom I have before spoken in this narrative and of whom I have yet to speak, joined us. He was one of my dearest friends, and his was a friendship I was proud to boast. With Colonel Herbert we had started out early in ’61 as privates in the First Maryland; arose to the rank of Captain almost simultaneously; first saw fighting at the battle of Manassas; and had together participated in most of the battles fought by the Army of Northern Virginia from that time to this. A thorough disciplinarian, brave as a lion, calm and collected amid the roar of artillery, the rattle of musketry, and the carnage of battle, I regarded him as one of the very best officers I ever saw. By his men he was almost idolized, whilst by the battalion he was universally beloved. The companies he commanded in the First and Second Infantry were model ones, and I question whether throughout the whole Confederate Army two such could have been found. As an evidence of their discipline and fighting qualities, and the tenacity and desperation with which they stood to their work at Gettysburg, I would state that out of ninety-eight men that he took into the fight, but thirty-one reported after the battle.
“Anything to be done to-day?” was his inquiry as he took a seat by our side.
“General Walker seems to think so,” was Col. Herbert’s response; “but his opinion is based upon no positive information. This long silence betokens a dreadful battle when it does commence, and I am getting tired of the suspense. By-the-by, Captain, now you know perfectly well that I am not at all superstitious, but I’ll be hanged if I havn’t a presentment that I am to be hit in this affair. You and myself have escaped so far without a scratch, but we won’t this time, mark my words. With G. there it has become so common a thing that nothing else is to be expected.”
“And for that very reason I shall escape,” said I. “You know the old saying that ‘it is a long lane that has no turning;’ well I think I am around the bend, whilst you two have not yet commenced the trip.”
“There it comes,” exclaimed Murray, suddenly springing to his feet as the sound of a single piece of artillery was wafted to us on the evening’s breeze from away down to our right. “And there, and there, and there!” as three more distinct discharges were heard.
For a moment all was still as death. Not a sound to break the same quiet that had preceded the four explosions. It was but a moment, however, for these were Lee’s signal guns to commence the battle, and the thunder of two hundred pieces of artillery burst forth from our lines. The enemy replied with as many more, and the earth shook and trembled as though riven by an earthquake. The air was filled with exploding, crashing, screaming shells. “Lay down!” is the command, and every man was flat on his face.
Perhaps nothing in battle is so trying to an infantryman’s nerves and patience as the preliminary artillery fire that precedes it; and the same effect is produced upon the artilleryman by the whistle of the minnie ball; although the destruction of human life by musketry is at least five hundred per cent. greater than by artillery; and an old soldier will contend a battle has not fairly begun until he hears the rattle of small arms, when he will exclaim to the recruit: “Now somebody is getting hurt; all this thunder was only for its effects.”
The brigade on our right being in a more direct line with the shots fired at the batteries of Latimer on the hill in front, begin to suffer severely, and the litter bearers are busily engaged carrying off the wounded. Latimer is working his guns savagely, but is being terribly handled, for three times his number of guns are concentrated upon the two little batteries, rending and tearing him to pieces. Caisson after caisson shoot high up in the air as they are exploded by the enemy’s shells.
“He can’t stand that pounding much longer,” remarked the Colonel; “and for all the execution he is doing I wish General Johnson would order him away. Here comes a litter from that direction with a wounded man. Let us see who it is.”
Approaching the sufferer we were shocked to behold the familiar features of the chivalrous Captain Wm. Brown, of the Chesapeake Artillery. His face was pale as death, and although both legs had been horribly shattered by a cannon ball, he smiled as he recognized us. Turning to Captain Torsch, he said in a weak voice:
“Captain, if you should get home, tell my poor old father I died endeavoring to do my duty.”
“We are making out badly up there,” said one of the litter bearers. “Major Latimer has been carried from the field mortally wounded; and if kept on that hill much longer more of us will be likely to follow him!”
For at least two hours this awful fire continued without a moment’s cessation, when aids were seen dashing furiously down the long line of infantry on our right, who spring to their feet as they pass, and were at once in motion.
“Mount your horse quickly,” said the Colonel, “for we are going in;” and the next instant, in a clear, distinct voice, heard even above the din of battle, he gave the command, “Forward, guide centre!” and the gallant sons of Maryland commenced their march to defeat and death.
Preceded by a cloud of skirmishers, steadily the long line in grey advanced across the Hanover road, and entered the woods before them. We found the ground here very uneven, and covered with immense rocks, which necessitated the dismounting of field and staff officers, and the horses were sent to the rear. We passed over more than a mile of this country before our skirmishers encountered those of the enemy upon the banks of Rock creek. A sharp fight ensued, but our gallant fellows dashed across the creek, which was waist deep, and put them to flight. The order was then given by some one for the skirmishers to join the main body. The disastrous consequences that followed this order will be presently seen.
We were rapidly approaching Culp’s Hill through one of the densest woods I ever passed. Darkness was upon us, and nothing could be seen save the flash of an occasional musket in our front. More and more difficult became the ascent, but over every obstacle pressed the devoted division. Not a shot was now heard, and the woods seemed inhabited but by ourselves. What has become of the enemy? In an instant the question is answered, as the heavens are lighted up by the flash of thousands of muskets, and the deadly Minnie tear and rend our ranks fearfully. The column reeled and staggered like a drunken man. To add to the horrors of the situation, a fire was also opened upon us in rear by a body of our own troops, who receiving some of the bullets that escaped us mistook us for the enemy. Men fell like autumn leaves; but the brave fellows disdained to retreat. The enemy’s fire was returned, though with little effect, as they were protected by their breastworks. No command could be heard above the infernal din. What was to be done? To stand there was certain death, and therefore, why not sell our lives dearly as possible? At this moment the heroic Walton approached me and asked “what on earth shall we do?”
“As I am not in command of the battalion, I can do nothing,” was my reply.
“Well, I shan’t wait for orders any longer, but will charge the works if I lose every man in my regiment. Take the responsibility and charge with your left at the same time.”
“I’ll do it,” was my response, and hastily detaching the companies of Captains Torsch, Stewart and Crane, with Walton, dashed at the breastworks, cleared them in a moment, with the loss of but three men, and instantly wheeling to the right opened a destructive, enfilading fire upon the enemy who still remained in the breastworks, which compelled them to fall back to Culp’s Hill.
On our right Nicholl’s brigade of Louisianians had not been so successful, and there the fight still raged. The enemy here held a stronger position, and could not be dislodged.
As the firing in our front had ceased temporarily, I took advantage of it to go in search of Colonel Herbert, from whom I wanted further orders, and to whom I wished to report my situation. Upon reaching the right of the battalion, however, I was grieved to learn, through Lieutenant George Thomas, that the gallant Colonel had been pierced at the first fire by no less than three balls, and carried from the field in a supposed dying condition.
Sending for the commanders of companies, with the view to ascertain their respective losses, I was shocked at the reports made by them. Nearly one hundred men had fallen in the Second Maryland alone, and at least three hundred in the brigade, during those few dreadful minutes.
As Captain Murray had the right of the battalion by seniority, I directed him, for the present, to take command of that wing whilst I looked after the important position I had taken at right angles with him after we had carried the enemy’s breastworks, and to inform General Steuart, if he should see him, where I was, and how I was situated. I had scarcely returned, when the enemy opened again with increased fury, but as the brigade was now sheltered behind the log breastworks and immense rocks that covered the hill, their fire did but little execution. The men were directed to fire at the flash from their muskets, and from the shouts of “stop that firing, you are shooting your own men,” I was convinced it was with effect. They must have been new troops, ordered from another point, as they did not seem to be aware of the change that had taken place in their front. Many came into our lines to remonstrate with us, and found themselves prisoners.
An incident of this kind occurred here, which, under different circumstances, would have afforded some amusement. Captain Torsch, of Company E, whose gallantry had been conspicuous during the evening, whilst urging his men to fire as rapidly as possible, was approached by a Federal officer and peremptorily ordered to cease. The Captain had received no instructions to obey officers in blue uniforms, and he therefore declared “he’d be d—d if he would,” and seizing the astonished “lover of the Union” by the throat, dragged him into my presence, and demanded in an excited manner that I should “give him the devil for coming inside our lines and interfering with him in the discharge of his duties.” The fellow was dreadfully scared, and begged piteously to be sent to the rear, as he “did not wish to be shot by his own men.”
Another, somewhat similar, occurred shortly after, in which the author was a party. Whilst directing the firing, I was approached by an officer on horseback, and asked how “the fight was going?” I saw his mistake directly, and telling him I did not know, walked towards his horse’s head to take him by the bridle. As I did so his suspicions must have been aroused, for he inquired “What corps is this?” “A Rebel corps, sir, and you are my prisoner!” I exclaimed, presenting a pistol to his breast. With perfect self-possession he dismounted, and unbuckling his belt handed it to me with sword and pistol attached, playfully remarking as he did so, “Take them, sir, they are yours, and fairly won.” He proved to be Lieutenant Egbert, a staff officer, who in carrying a dispatch had become lost in the darkness.
By ten o’clock the firing had ceased, and the men rested upon their arms, prepared to repel an attack at an instant’s warning. The officers were required to remain awake during the night, and a vigilant line of pickets kept a watchful eye in the direction of the enemy, who were but fifty yards distant. They were also on the alert, as we were assured by an occasional volley of musketry.
During the whole night artillery and wagons could be heard rumbling along the Gettysburg turnpike, and as the sound seemed to recede we thought the enemy might be retreating. Generals Johnson and Steuart were attentive listeners, and I heard Johnson express such a belief. I sincerely hoped it might prove true, for I was sickened at the prospects before us.