Reminiscences of the Cleveland Light Artillery

by Anonymous

The Union forces pressed rapidly forward on the heels of the retreating pickets. The whistling of bullets told the rebels that they must fight or run and that the decision must be made at once. In the light of subsequent evidence it may be considered likely that Colonel Porterfield was willing to fight, but the Confederate soldiers deemed it best to run, and they did. They stood not upon the order of their going but went at once and with the utmost precipitation. It was a regular “skedaddle,” to use a word that was current in war times.

The Cleveland artillerymen had an opportunity to use their guns and they made the most of it, to the extent of sixteen rounds. Although sharing fully in the wild excitement of the first meeting with the enemy they served their pieces with a coolness and skill that elicited from those in command words of the highest praise. (It is a matter of record that their missiles took off the leg of one soldier, the first casualty by artillery fire in the field done by the Union forces, but it is undeniably true that the roar of their guns and the plunging shot greatly aided in demoralizing the rebels and accelerating the speed with which they sought a safe place far in the rear.)

The rebels fled in wild dismay, utterly heedless of the efforts of their officers to stem the tide of disaster. They had barely time to get away, and left behind them a large quantity of supplies and material of war which had been collected. The rear end of the disorganized rebel procession had not disappeared when Colonel Kelley’s column came in sight. His advance dashed after the enemy, himself at the head, and there was a brisk skirmish. It did not last long, however, as the rebels fled out of range at the earliest possible moment. None of the Union soldiers were killed. A few were wounded, and among them the gallant Colonel Kelley, who received a pistol shot in the breast, which incapacitated him from duty for some weeks. Prolonged pursuit of the fleeing foe was impossible, owing to the extremely exhausted condition of the men after their all-night march in the storm, while the rebels were fresh and able to get off at a speed that defied successful competition. The command of the Union forces devolved upon Colonel Dumont.

The Confederate Colonel Porterfield and his staff had been living in fine style at the village “tavern.” A good breakfast had been prepared for them by “mine host,” but the latter suddenly found himself entertaining unbidden and wholly unexpected guests. The inordinate haste with which the rebel commander and his official family evacuated the town would not permit them to partake of that breakfast, and it was eaten, with profoundly thankful hearts—and stomachs—by a company of Union officers.

The following is an extract from the official report of the affair, made to General McClellan by General Morris:

“The enemy was entirely off his guard and was completely surprised, as the reports of those engaged in the attack attest. The failure to capture the entire rebel force can only be attributed to the storm during the night. This unforeseen misfortune served to call forth an endurance seldom exhibited, and I feel that the heroism of officers and men was as truly displayed in a march of fifteen miles in pitchy darkness, drenching rain, and over a mountainous country as in the irresistible attack and hot pursuit of the discomfited enemy. The last five miles of Colonel Dumont’s column was made in one hour and a quarter. Many men fainted and were left on the road. Others threw away their haversacks and provisions to keep up, rushing forward with a determination that showed what spirit animated the command. I regard it as remarkable that under such circumstances the two columns were but fifteen minutes apart at the time assigned for their meeting. An able reconnoissance in advance of Colonel Dumont’s column was made by Colonel F. W. Lauder, whose voluntary aid I gladly accepted, and to whose advice and assistance I am greatly indebted. The immediate direction of the artillery was confided to him. After the bridge was taken he pressed forward and joined Colonel Kelley, rode into the enemy’s ranks and captured the prisoner reported to have shot Colonel Kelley. He had great difficulty in restraining the Virginia volunteers from summarily dispatching the man, who was a noted secessionist and a quartermaster of the rebel forces.

“From the reports of Colonel Dumont (who, by reason of the fall of Colonel Kelley, had command), you will perceive there is much difficulty in making an accurate statement of the enemy’s losses. The killed are estimated at from fifteen to forty, which were carried off it is supposed by friends, during the confusion incident to the pursuit of the enemy. A large amount of camp equipage, provisions, arms, wagons, horses and medical stores were captured, an inventory of which will be made as soon as possible.”

When the tidings reached Cleveland of the “battle” and the creditable manner in which the “boys” had acquitted themselves, they were regarded as the heroes of the hour—warriors of the first magnitude. It was Cleveland’s first record under fire and the citizens felt a justifiable pride in the honorable part borne by their representatives in almost the first engagement of the war.

That the action at Philippi was not more sanguinary was not the fault of the Union soldiers. If the rebels had stayed no doubt there would have been a warm engagement. It takes two parties to get up a fight, and when one of them “runs away” in order that he may “live to fight another day,” there is no alternative but to postpone the battle until that day comes around. But it was a clear and unquestionable victory, if it wasn’t a very big one. It was memorable as being the first field guns fired on the Union side in the Civil War. It was hailed through the North with loud acclaim. The newspapers teemed with praise of the gallant men who won it, and the mails were burdened with letters of congratulation and compliment from friends at home. It showed that the raw volunteers from the North had that endurance and pluck of which soldiers are made; it did much to prick the bubble of idle boasting that one Southern man could whip five “Yankees.” Indeed, it rather looked as though it was the Southern soldiers who would not fight, and some people believed, after Philippi, that the war was about over. Some of the victorious blue-coats thought so and they felt an exceeding great joy that they had been permitted to participate in the action that was the death-blow to the rebellion.

The satisfaction that filled loyal hearts everywhere was only equaled by the apprehension and alarm in the South that were caused by even so trifling a defeat as this. Especially was this true of the Confederate forces in Western Virginia, which were for a time in an almost hopeless state of demoralization. One point after another was being seized and held by the Union troops; regiments from Ohio and Indiana were hurrying forward to reinforce them, and there seemed little hope of being able to dislodge them from that part of the state. After the disaster at Philippi frantic dispatches were sent to the civil and military authorities at Richmond, representing the Confederate cause in that section to be in a desperate condition, and urging immediate and decisive steps to reorganize and reinforce the army, unless Western Virginia was to be abandoned to the enemy. It will not be out of place here to give one or two extracts from the correspondence which took place at this time between rebel officials in Western Virginia and at Richmond. Under date of June 6th, 1861, Major M. G. Harman, commanding at Staunton, wrote to General Robert E. Lee: