As I soon perceived a position by which their left could be turned, six companies of Colonel Dumont’s regiment were ordered to cross the river about three hundred yards above them, to pass up the hill obliquely from our right to their left, and take them in rear. Owing to some mistake, possibly in the transmission of the order, this command crossed about double the distance intended and turned at first to their right, which delayed the effect of the movement. After some fifteen minutes, however, this error was rectified, and, the hill being reported as impracticable, this command, now increased to the entire regiment, was ordered down to the ford, there to take the enemy directly in front at the road.
“The firing of Steadman’s regiment and of Milroy’s, now well up and in action, with repeated and rapid discharges from Barnett’s artillery during this movement, decided the action at once. As Dumont reached the road, having passed along and under their whole front, the firing ceased and the enemy fled in great confusion. Dumont’s regiment pursued them for about one mile farther, having brisk skirmishing with their rear for the first half of that distance, during which General Garnett was killed. The enemy would still have been followed up most closely, and probably to the capture of a large portion of their scattered army, but this was absolutely impossible with our fatigued and exhausted troops, who had already marched eighteen miles or more, in an almost incessant, violent rain, the greater part of them without food since the evening and a portion of them even from the noon of yesterday, so warm had been the pursuit of the enemy on their hasty retreat from Laurel Mountain, twenty-six miles distant. The troops were, therefore, halted for food and rest at about 2 p. m.
“The result of the action proves to be the capture of about forty loaded wagons and teams, being nearly all the enemy’s baggage train, as we learn, and including a large portion of new clothing, camp equipage and other stores; their headquarter papers and military chest; also two stands of colors and one fine rifled piece of artillery; while the commanding general, Robert S. Garnett, is killed, his body being now cared for by us, and fifteen or twenty more of the enemy are killed and nearly fifty prisoners taken. Our own loss is two killed and six or seven wounded—one dangerously.
“In concluding this report I feel it my duty to state that just as the action was closing, the head regiment of the body of troops under yourself, though starting as I learn three hours later, the Sixth Indiana, under Colonel Crittenden, came upon the field in excellent order, but, unfortunately, too late to aid us in the battle.
“The conduct of those gallant officers, Colonels Barnett, Steadman, Dumont and Milroy, with the steady perseverance of their officers and men in their long and arduous march, suffering from hunger, rain and cold, with their gallantry in action, was most heroic and beyond all praise of mine. Their country only can fully appreciate and reward their services.”
This was the most important victory that had yet been achieved by the Union forces anywhere. It is true that very small figures expressed the losses on either side, but loyal people everywhere were anxiously watching for successes, and the “battle” of Carrick’s Ford threw the whole North into a spasm of tempestuous rejoicing. The pluck and heroism of the volunteers was lauded to the skies—and it may fairly be said that they deserved it. The members of the Ohio artillery, with whom this chronicle has particularly to do, had added fresh laurels to those gained at Philippi and Laurel Hill, and the people of Cleveland regarded them in the same light in which the world looks upon the Six Hundred who made the historic charge at Balaklava. So conspicuous were their services and so gallant their bearing that they were awarded the cannon captured from the enemy at Carrick’s Ford. At the close of the three months’ service they took this trophy back with them to Cleveland. It was placed in the Public Square, where it remaineth unto this day, with an inscription upon it that he who runs may read. This inscription, by the way, was at first fearfully and wonderfully made. A geographical student would be impressed with the fact that unless the people of Cleveland could fight better than they could spell they wouldn’t capture many cannon in that or any other war. The inscription, which was put on by somebody who was not within three hundred miles of the battle, informed the wayfarer that the gun was captured at “Corricke’s Forde.” The atrocious orthography greeted the public eye for nearly twenty years, when it was corrected, to the great satisfaction of the old survivors of the artillery.
The writer has before him the official reports of a number of Confederate officers who participated in the action at Carrick’s Ford. Naturally they magnify the Union force and losses, and in a measure that is ridiculous. They place the Union strength at from ten to fifteen thousand, their own being but a tenth of that number. The “Yankees” are estimated to have had on their hands after this action material for one hundred and fifty funerals, with one additional loss of from two to four hundred wounded. It will be remembered that General Benham, in his official report to General Morris, states that the Union loss was “two killed and six or seven wounded.”
It is interesting to note the extreme caution shown at that time by officers and others on the Union side in communicating with the rebels. There was an evident desire to avoid the slightest word that would appear to be a recognition of any official authority, civil or military, among the insurgents. It was considered that if a rebel general or colonel was addressed as such it was a virtual recognition of the power that conferred such rank upon him. So, on July 15, General McClellan addressed a communication “To the Officer Commanding the Forces Commanded by the late Robert S. Garnett, Esq., styling himself Brigadier-General Confederate States Army.”
The battle of Carrick’s Ford ended the fighting of the Cleveland Artillery in the three months’ service. The command moved back to Belington and the artillery was ordered to report to General McClellan, who had planned an expedition up the Kanawha Valley after the rebel General Wise. He warmly complimented Colonel Barnett and his men for their valuable services in the campaign under General Morris, and expressed an earnest wish that they might accompany him up the Kanawha. As a matter of fact they had not as yet even been mustered into the United States service, and the three months for which they were called out had expired. But, pursuant to orders, Colonel Barnett reported with his command to McClellan at Beverly, where the General made a personal appeal to the men to accompany his expedition, and nearly all of them expressed a willingness to do so. A few days later, before McClellan was ready for the Kanawha campaign, came the first real battle of the war—that of Bull Run, in Virginia, which resulted in the rout of the Union army under McDowell and brought to the people of the North an actual realization of the fact that they had a war on their hands. In the wild excitement that followed this battle General McClellan was summoned to Washington to take command of the Army of the Potomac and his plans for further offensive operations in Western Virginia were for the time abandoned.
A week later Colonel Barnett and his “regiment” of artillery were ordered to be discharged and started at once for Columbus. It should be stated here, to their credit, that the citizens of Cleveland had done all in their power to contribute to the comfort and wellbeing of the command during its service in the field. It has already been said that the men were but poorly supplied with clothing by the state and national governments, for which apparent neglect there was much good reason. The three months’ men were called out suddenly and pushed to the front to meet a great and pressing emergency. Their services and sacrifices were of inestimable value to the country. They secured a permanent lodgment at many points beyond the border, and held the enemy at bay while the government was getting ready for the mighty struggle which followed. The echoes of Sumter found the nation totally unprepared for such a crisis, and it is not a matter of wonder that the early volunteers who, with magnificent patriotism, responded so promptly to the call, were but indifferently provided for. The people of Cleveland contributed liberally, and twice Mr. David Price came to the camp of the artillerymen with quantities of clothing, food and delicacies for the sick. But for this most highly appreciated kindness the boys in the field would have had scarcely so much as fig-leaves to cover their nakedness. It is true there wasn’t much “uniform” about the garments and they were a grotesque appearing lot of men for soldiers, but it gave them a comparative degree of comfort and they “got there just the same” as if they had been arrayed in all the gorgeous trappings of martial splendor. All the greater honor was theirs because they served so faithfully and well and bore without complaint the discomforts and privations inseparable from a campaign in such a country and under such circumstances.