At daybreak, four companies of the Massachusetts Fifteenth, under Colonel Devens, had reached the opposite shore, and after reconnoitering had formed their line on Ball’s Bluff, on the edge of the cornfield. While in this position they were attacked by a considerable body of the enemy, with whom an irregular skirmish was kept up. Colonel Baker had during the morning been transferred from Conrad’s Ferry to Harrison’s Island, and appointed to the command. About noon the reinforcements began to come up, consisting of three companies of the Massachusetts Twentieth, six hundred of the California regiment, two companies of the Tammany regiment, with two howitzers and one rifled gun, in charge of Lieutenant Bramhall of the New York Ninth.
In the mean time the rebels, well informed of the difficulties of the Federal position, and only awaiting the arrival of a larger number that they might add to the magnitude of the victory which was within their grasp at any moment, having engaged the Federals by a series of irregular skirmishes during the earlier part of the day, concentrated their forces on General Baker’s command at half-past two o’clock. With a force of three thousand men they commenced a vigorous attack from the woods on three sides of the Federal position. A portion of Colonel Gorman’s command at Edwards Ferry crossed over, but from want of means of transportation could not make either their numbers or presence of effective service.
The real battle, however, commenced on the left. Baker threw the whole responsibility of that wing upon Wistar. The latter did not like the appearance of the adjacent wood region, and threw forward companies A and D of his battalion to test them. Captains Markoe and Wade, the former well ahead, accordingly advanced on their hazardous duty; passed through the forest to the horn-like projection of the field, crossed it, and had arrived within ten paces of the further thicket, when a murderous fire blazed out upon them.
The poor fellows gallantly sprang through it upon their assailants, and were in a moment fighting in the woods. Not half of this noble band ever came back. The rebels, taking this as a signal for the commencement of the action, now bestirred themselves in force, and fired a terrific volley along their whole front. Only the sheeted flash showed itself from those frowning forests; the foe still clung to cover; but the hail of bullets rattled against the Union lines, and many brave souls were sent into eternity by that first fiery revelation of the enemy’s strength. The reply was instant and extended. In a second both ends of the field were clouded with smoke, the day’s skirmishing was over, and the contest that was to rage so hotly for an hour had commenced its fury.
The battle on the part of the Federals was fought heroically, and in a true sacrificial spirit. The enemy was in force in front; he began to creep down the treacherous sides of the enclosure; his sharpshooters climbed the trees everywhere, picking out the stateliest and most gallant forms for the death they so unerringly dealt. The lines thus received a scathing fire from the front, from above, and a cross-fire at angles right and left. All they could do in reply was to aim steadily and swiftly at the places whence the loudest yells and deadliest volleys proceeded. But the men dropped everywhere, and were borne by dozens to the gory skiffs below. On the right the Massachusetts men were more than decimated by the regular, unavoidable shower of bullets. But against the left, where Wistar commanded, the rebels, confident of their force and the effect of their deadly fire in front, began to make venturesome charges, each one repelled by the gallant fire of the Californians, but each one getting nearer the Federal lines than the last. On the fourth charge they actually flanked the left, and sprang forth, savage and eager, from the thicket beyond the ravine. Down this they were about to plunge. “Hold!” cried Wistar to his men; “not a man of you must fire;” and he dashed at the piece of one; “wait till they reach the bottom of the ravine; then we’ll have them.”
So they charged down the hill, only to meet the most effective volley fired on the Union side during that day. When the smoke rose their front ranks lay fallen in the hollow of the valley of death, and the rear had broken and fled in disorder through the forest.
Lieutenant Bramhall had posted his gun near the centre of the line, and opened fire to the best advantage possible. When he mounted the piece, he had eight artillerists, three riders, a corporal and sergeant. In ten minutes, five of these were shot down; in the end, all but two were killed, wounded or missing. Lieutenant Bramhall himself was severely wounded, but stood by his gun. Colonel Coggswell saw the necessity of the case, informed Colonels Wistar and Lee, Adjutant Harvey (of Baker’s brigade), and Stewart (of General Stone’s staff, present on the field); and those five distinguished officers and determined men manned the piece themselves. Coggswell and Harvey, understanding the business, would load, while Lee and Wistar were giving orders to their commands, and spurring them into the fight; then Wistar and Stewart would wheel the gun forward to position; Coggswell would take aim and give the word to Harvey, who held the percussion lanyard. In this way and by these men a dozen of the twenty rounds used were fired, doing more effect than all the musketry volleys. When the enemy was making his fifth charge on the left, the cannon had just been loaded and was pointed at the woods in front. Captain Beiral, of the Californians, who was with his company supporting the piece, exclaimed to Coggswell,
“Look to the left! look to the left!”
Coggswell saw the dark column of the rebels sweeping across the spur of the field, wheeled the terrible gun around, and discharged it square at their centre. The shell opened a lane through the charging force, a score or more falling never to fight again, and the column retreated upon the main body behind.
But the end was fast approaching. The thinning Union forces were assailed by four times their number. From every side death stormed upon their unsheltered bodies. Half their line officers were wounded or killed. The undaunted leaders were also falling. Ward, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifteenth, had received a frightful wound; Coggswell was shot through the wrist; Lee, Devens, Harvey and Stewart were still fighting sadly and in vain; a ball shattered Wistar’s sword arm—he dropped the weapon, picked it up with his left hand, and General Baker himself restored it to the scabbard. The shouting enemy began to break from the wood and through the smoke upon the confused lines. The crisis had come. There was some hand-to-hand fighting; a few of the gray-coats got entangled with the Federal forces, who took a prisoner and passed him to the rear; the enemy took a dozen, and made charge after charge. Just then a body of men appeared, pressing down from the left. The General ordered the troops around him to stand firm, and cried, “Who are those men?” “Confederate troops!” was the reply; and they rushed almost within bayonet distance. One of them drew a revolver, came close to Baker, and fired four balls at the General, every one of which took effect, and a glorious soul fled through their ghastly openings. Captain Beiral seized the slayer by the throat, and blew out his brains—the hero and the traitor falling within the same minute, and face to face. In a second the enemy swarmed over the spot. “For God’s sake, boys,” cried Adjutant Harvey, in his hot English way, “are you going to let them have the General’s body!”