(204) As before written Lieut. Beugough, of Company F, was killed in the battle of Winchester on Sunday, June 14th, 1863. Shortly after this his widow in company with another lady, went to Winchester to recover the body. The two women were arrested as spies. The interesting story of their capture and release, is thus related by the then Mrs. Beugough, now as then, living in Pittsburgh, leaving out her preliminary sketch of a trip from Fairmont, W. Va., to Pittsburgh in March, 1863:
TWO WOMEN OF THE WAR.
(205) Some months later, I learned of the death of my husband, Lieut. J. T. Beugough, who was killed during the three days fight at Winchester. F. P. Pierpont, Adjutant General of West Virginia, sent me a telegram to that effect and accompanied by my sister-in-law, Miss Celia Beugough, principal of the High School in Toledo and sister of the present pension agent at Pittsburgh, Harry Beugough, left Pittsburg for Winchester to recover the body. My late husband had been a lieutenant under Gen. Milroy and during the battle the firing having ceased in his direction, being tired, he with his command lay down to rest; as he slept he was killed by a sharpshooter.
(206) Arriving at the headquarters of Gen. Mulligan on New Creek, Va., we were assigned quarters in a big building, which we subsequently discovered was occupied as a barracks by the soldiers, and we awoke during the night to find the room filled with men. Celia was greatly excited, but I calmed her fears and tucking our heads under the quilt we weathered the storm until the soldiers filed out in the morning. Mulligan furnished us with a pass into the rebel lines, and assured us he had personal friends among the Confederates, who would see that we were properly treated.
(207) After walking a few miles night overtook us, and we put up at a house, the proprietor of which agreed to take us to Winchester for $20. In the morning we got into a buggy, I drove the horse he following on horse back to bring back the rig. It was a long hot ride, and with nothing to eat but cherries we were almost starved. Our escort would not approach the town nearer than three miles, he was afraid of losing his horses, so we footed it.
(208) I had been in Winchester before, and boarded at a house opposite the government corral, and we thought if we could find the place, we might be accommodated for the night. But alas, for human hopes, and happiness, we discovered there were many roads leading into Winchester; that we had lost our bearings and were at sea. What should we do? We dare not make inquiry, and it being about 7 o'clock in the evening we had to conclude quickly. Entering the town we found it full of rebel soldiers. They paid no attention to us, so we wandered about for some time without success. Finally we met a boy about 10 years old, and asked him the name of the street on which the corral was situated, "Where the Yanks used to keep their horses?" he interrogated, "Oh, that's away up yander" and pointing with his index finger out into the right he showed us the way. We were a long time finding the place, and when we did, how changed; the corral was tenantless, and the house we expected to lodge in presented a deserted appearance. With fear and trembling we knocked at the door and were admitted.
(209) The lady knew me, but was uncommunicative. She gave us lodging and a supper and breakfast of salt junk, for which we paid a fancy price. In the morning we pursued our mission. We found our way to the headquarters of Gen. R. E. Lee, who gave us a pass to the fortifications for the purpose of disinterring the body, and one to the hospital for a squad of our prisoners to rebury it in the cemetery. The General told us the body could not be shipped, as the railroad between Winchester and Martinsburg had been torn up.
(210) Having obtained the passes (which I still have in my possession) the General required us to report at his headquarters after our work had been accomplished—disobedience in this respect caused us much suffering and imprisonment in Castle Thunder, Richmond.
(211) We buried the body in the cemetery and went to our boarding house. It was evening and a sad one for us; our hostess had changed considerably since morning—she refused us anything to eat, saying there was nothing in the house. We had money, but were afraid to go out to purchase, so in lieu of anything better, we went outside and sat on the doorstep. We sat there for some time, when we observed a man across the street, close to the corral, dressed in surgeon's uniform. We thought he tried to arrest our attention, but were afraid to encourage him; he disappeared for a time around the corner, and as suddenly appeared this time on our side of the street and passing close, dropped a note, which we read in our room, by a light of a rag burning in a saucer of grease. He stated in the note that he was Lieut. McAdams of a Pennsylvania regiment, the number of which I cannot recall, that he was a prisoner, but not a surgeon, having borrowed the uniform in order to serve us; we were prisoners and would be treated as spies. "I will bring you tea and hard-tack from the hospital about 9 o'clock tonight." He kept his promise dropping the tea and crackers as he had the note. We never saw nor heard of McAdams since. He was a man between 30 and 35 years of age, heavy set, with sandy hair.
(212) Between 12 and 1 o'clock that night, we stole out of the house, climbed the back fence and made for the Romney Road. It has been said we should always hope for the best, and at the same time be prepared for whatever presents itself. When we found ourselves out in the open country terror seized us and brought us to a realization of the situation. The chill of the night, caused us to shiver, so we quickened our steps in the direction of the hill and the fort.