CHAPTER X.
On the afternoon and evening of the 9th, Jackson leisurely moved his almost exhausted troops up the mountain until he reached its summit, where he went into camp to afford rest to his men after their arduous campaign.
But there was work yet to be done, though the nature of which we were then totally ignorant. Jackson could not long remain idle, and three days after the battle of Port Republic found us moving down the mountain’s side in the direction of Weir’s Cave, where we again went into camp, and were given to understand that our stay would be a long one. But the veterans of Jackson’s division, who knew him best, shook their heads, and were heard to say, “with Jackson a long stay means a short one, with plenty of marching and fighting ahead, now mark it.” And so it proved in this instance, as will be seen.
The day after our arrival at Weir’s Cave, the First Maryland was ordered to Staunton to muster out companies H and I, whose terms of service had expired, and also to muster in a new company just arrived from Richmond under command of Captain Barry.
Before our departure General Ewell issued the following General Order complimenting the command upon their gallant bearing at Harrisonburg, and directing that one of the buck’s tail captured by them in that battle, should be appended to their colors:
Headquarters Third Division.
General Orders, No. 30.
In commemoration of the gallant conduct of the First Maryland Regiment on the 6th of June, when led by Colonel Bradley T. Johnson they drove back with loss the “Pennsylvania Bucktail Rifles” in the engagement near Harrisonburg, Rockingham County, Virginia, authority is given to have one of the captured “bucktails” (the insignia of the Federal Regiment,) appended to the color-staff of the First Maryland Regiment.
By order of Maj. Gen. Ewell.
James Barbur, A. A. G.
The farewell at Staunton with our comrades of companies H and I was a most affecting one. For more than a year we had shared the privations of the camp and the march, had stood shoulder to shoulder on more than one bloody field, and had learned to love each other as only a soldier can love his companion.
Our new company was composed principally of young men from the lower counties of Maryland, and was a fine body, although totally inexperienced. Captain Barry himself was an old soldier, having served in Mexico with considerable distinction.
From what we saw at Staunton, we were led to believe our stay would be a short one, for large bodies of troops were arriving from Richmond, and we did not doubt for a moment but we were destined up the valley after Fremont, and perhaps for the invasion of Maryland. How great our mistake, and the transportation of these very troops was intended to convey that same impression to the enemy, and thereby keep McDowell from uniting with McClellan, while Lee carried out his great plan of raising the siege of Richmond with Jackson’s assistance.
And it succeeded; for the authorities at Washington were quickly apprised of the fact, and instead of sending McClellan the reinforcements he so earnestly plead for, they withheld them to repel the audacious Jackson, should he dare to cross the Potomac, which they did not doubt was his intention.
Suddenly, however, about the 22d of June, the whole army was put in motion, and marching to Staunton, took the immense trains that had been for some time quietly assembling there. Of our destination at first we had not the slightest conception, but that we were moving in the direction of Richmond was evident. Could anything have befallen General Lee? suggested itself, for everything indicated haste. By the time we had reached Frederickshall, however, it was generally understood we were destined to reinforce Lee, who, rumor had it, intended to surprise McClellan if possible in his fortifications. This was the terminus of the trip by rail, and disembarking we took the road by way of Ashland.
On the afternoon of the 26th, whilst marching rapidly, some four or five miles to the left of Mechanicsville, we were startled by heavy volleys of musketry and the roar of artillery coming from that direction. It was then I heard General Ewell, who was riding close by, exclaim, “that’s the programme! that’s the programme! I think we have them now!” It was but a few minutes after that the first Maryland, in the advance, encountered the enemy, and a sharp fight ensued. We drove them before us, however, for some distance, when we unexpectedly found ourselves in the presence of a heavy column, and were obliged to halt until our main body came up. During this time the utmost confusion seemed to prevail within the enemy’s lines, and shortly after we had discovered them they commenced to move precipitately to the rear.
That McClellan was surprised and utterly confounded, was now apparent, and that the next day would initiate a bloody fight no one doubted. As night was upon us, we determined to go into camp, not however until we had taken every precaution to guard against a surprise. The fighting at Mechanicsville still continued, and away in the night we could hear the rattle of musketry and see the explosion of shells.
The morning of the 27th June broke bright and beautiful, and long before the sun had risen the troops were on the march to attack the enemy. The men were in high spirits, and the rivalry was intense between those who had served with Jackson in the Valley and the reinforcements which had reached us at Staunton, among which was Hood’s Texans, who were that day to win a name that will live forever.
We had marched but a few miles when a large body of troops were observed in motion to our right, and as General Jackson had received no notice that any Confederates would move in that direction, he very naturally supposed them to be the enemy, and immediately prepared to receive them, for they were coming directly towards us. Still fearful there might be some mistake, he withheld his artillery fire, but threw an occasional shell in their midst to discover if possible who they were. At the first shot they deployed their skirmishers with the most beautiful precision, and advanced across the open field with great regularity, whilst the heavy columns of infantry moved upon us, closed en masse under cover of a wood. A fearful tragedy was now about to be enacted, and was only averted by the daring of Lieutenant George Booth, acting Adjutant of the First Maryland. From the first he had maintained they were our troops, whilst most of the officers, including General Jackson, were of the opinion they were not. The uniforms of the skirmishers were darker than we had ever before seen, and most of them wore white gaiters, something entirely unknown in the army of Jackson. Nearer and nearer they approached, and in a minute more we knew the mass of infantry must debouche into the plain, when the hand of friend would unwittingly be raised against friend. At this moment Lieutenant Booth, unable longer to restrain himself, without orders, dashed spurs into his horse, and at the risk of being shot to pieces, rode at full speed in the direction of the advancing skirmishers. We watched him with breathless anxiety until he reached the line, where halting a moment in conference with one of the officers, he wheeled his horse and galloped back to inform us it was Branch’s division of North Carolinians, which had lost its way. It was a great relief, and we congratulated each other when we met upon the timely discovery.
This affair, however, delayed us at least an hour, and we had no time to spare. Onward, then, we pressed, our advance occasionally skirmishing with the enemy, until we reached a dense pine forest, and here our troubles commenced. The guides were, or seemed to be, ignorant of the roads, and more than once we had to retrace our steps. Jackson was furious, and for the first time I saw him out of humor. Long before this he should have begun the fight, and here he was some distance from the field. Finally, however, we extricated ourselves, and soon after, about three o’clock in the afternoon, heavy skirmishing, and the occasional roar of artillery in our front, told us we were up with the enemy and developing his position.
As we neared the field the artillery and infantry fire increased in volume, and it was evident that the advanced troops of Jackson were hotly engaged, as were those of Hill on our right. Steadily the rattle of musketry swelled as Jackson forwarded reinforcements, until it became almost deafening. But as hour after hour passed, and that awful fire did not recede, he began to show symptoms of uneasiness. Upon his success on the left depended everything. Should he fail the splendidly conceived plans of General Lee would fail also, and Richmond would be at the mercy of the invader. Was it a wonder, then, that he rode nervously to and fro, and appeared for the first time to fear that the gods of battle had forsaken him? Every eye was upon the great chieftain as he galloped along the lines of the troops held in reserve, and the anxious expression upon that heretofore immovable countenance was observable to all.
“General Elzey,” said he, riding up to that gallant officer, “move your brigade forward; this officer will show you to where you are most needed,” at the same time pointing to a member of his staff who, all covered with dust and the smoke of battle, had just ridden up.
“Good bye, Captain,” exclaimed the brave Captain William Shearer, of the Winchester Boomerangs in the Thirteenth Virginia, and a dear friend. “I hope to see you soon again;” and as his command filed by the poor fellow pressed my hand for the last time; for, alas, in a few minutes the brigade was cut to pieces, and he was carried from the field with a fatal wound in the head. And here, too, fell its heroic commander, Elzey, with a fearful wound through the face; and the dashing McDonald, of his staff, shot dead while performing prodigies of valor.
As these disasters came thick and fast, and the enemy seemed to defy his utmost efforts, the right hand of Jackson was more frequently extended towards heaven, as though invoking the aid of the great invisible Being there, and his horse moved more rapidly as he impatiently spurred through the ranks awaiting intelligence from the front.
“There goes Hood’s Texans!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, as that splendid command, the last of our reserves, commenced to move. “If they fail, God help us;” and we all felt the truth of the observation.
The little First Maryland was now left all alone, for having been detached from Scott’s Virginia brigade after the battle of Port Republic, and to which we had been attached temporarily; we were not expected to take much part in the heavy fighting, but were reserved principally for skirmish duty.
“Colonel Johnson will remain where he is, and arrest all stragglers from the field,” was the order of General Jackson, as he put spurs to his horse and rode towards the front.
“I will until after you get out of sight, Mr. Jackson, but no longer,” the Colonel muttered.
“And neither would I, Johnson,” exclaimed a gentleman in citizen’s clothes, who at that moment threw himself from a much jaded horse and advanced to his side. “I came here for my first fight, and it has got to be with the Maryland boys.”
Turning around what was my surprise to recognize in the person of our visitor Mr. George Kyle, (afterwards Major Kyle,) who had ridden from Richmond to be one of its defenders.
“Here, boys,” he continued, “I have some letters for you from home, just arrived by blockade-runner, and as they may be the last you will ever receive, I would advise you to lose no time in reading them;” and he commenced distributing to the eager troops the large package of letters in his possession. As he did so the musketry fire redoubled in intensity, and from the yell which followed we knew the Texans had grappled with the foe.
“Great God!” exclaimed Kyle, stopping midway in the distribution of the letters, “is it possible that men can cheer in the face of such a fire as that?”
“Attention, battalion,” was now the sharp command from our Colonel, and moving rapidly by the right flank we were on our way—we knew not whither. Our route lay through dense woods for some distance, and from whence we suddenly came into a broad plain, and away to our left burst upon the view the two armies desperately contending. As we then moved by the left flank into line of battle the splendid brigade of Georgians under Lawton came up on the run, and moving in front of us led the way towards the scene of strife. Swiftly the two columns moved forward in the face of a terrible fire of musketry and artillery. Finding the fire too hot, Lawton soon ordered a halt, and his men lay down to shelter themselves from the flying bullets. But “Forward!” was the command of our Colonel, and onward through that storm of bullets moved the little First Maryland, which, as they passed over the prostrate bodies of the Georgians, were enthusiastically cheered. On, on, they moved through that vale of fire and death with the same precision as on battalion drill. Immediately in our front was a battery that had proved terribly destructive to our troops from the commencement of the battle. Again and again had it been charged, but without success. That battery Johnson was determined to assail, but our chances of success were slim, indeed.
Regiments broken and shattered were now met coming to the rear, and many of the men attached themselves to our command. One gallant fellow, the color bearer of Wright’s Legion, carried back some distance by the rush of his panic-stricken comrades, declared his flag should go no farther, and planting himself upon our left, rallied many of his companions. The First Maryland had thus been augmented to about four hundred men, and with these Johnson intended to charge the battery and its infantry supports.
Taking advantage of a rise in the ground, he halted the men under its shelter, and ordered them to rest preparatory to making the desperate assault. Scarcely had the command been given when Captain McHenry Howard, of General Charles Winder’s staff, galloped up with orders to remain where we were until that General could overtake us with the Stonewall Brigade. “The General has observed your movements, sir, and thinks the place too strong for you; we will, therefore, charge together.” In a few moments Jackson’s favorite brigade was with us, and, at the command of General Winder, we moved forward with irresistible impulse, and scrambling over the enemy’s breastwork of knapsacks, we swept everything before us.
The last charge had been made, and the last battery captured at Gaines’ Mills, and the right of McClellan’s army was seeking safety in flight.
Night was upon us, and completely exhausted, we threw ourselves upon the ground in the midst of the dead, wounded and dying, and despite the shrieks and cries and groans of anguish from hundreds around us, were soon wrapped in sleep.
The field next morning presented a ghastly spectacle, and the thousands of maimed and dismembered bodies attested the severity of the fight. Litter-bearers were moving in all directions, gathering the wounded, while burial parties were busily engaged with pick and spade digging the trenches in which were to rest those beyond all worldly cares and suffering. The camp-follower was also plying his avocation, and as he moved from one to another of his victims an expression of satisfaction or disappointment would escape him as he counted the yield of each. Some of the men, however, were in search of boots and shoes, which they so much needed, as thousands of Jackson’s command were barefooted, and had been for weeks.
As I walked over the field I observed one of them, a North Carolinian, with his foot upon the stomach of a dead man, tugging vigorously at a boot, which after a little while he succeeded in getting off. I stopped to see how he would get the other one, for the leg had been shattered to pieces just above the knee by a cannon ball, and hung but by a few shreds. A desperate effort separated the leg from the body, and the fellow was in a quandary. Looking around he espied me, when approaching, he extended the ghastly stump, and said, “Mister, will you please hold onter this tarnel thing ontil I git the boot off?” The assistance he asked for I declined to render, when shouldering his prize he started off muttering, “If you won’t, some of the boys will, that’s all.”