“The town soon became one mass of smoke and flame, which ascended straight up to heaven, as if to call down the vengeance of God upon the incendiaries. Here and there whirlwinds went up like gigantic corkscrews, carrying paper and clothing high into the air, and miles into the surrounding country, as if to bear witness of the foul outrage. I saw more than one rebel soldier weeping like a child over the desolation he had made. Hardened as they were to the horrors of war, this was too terrible even for them to bear. One cried out to me in an agony of remorse: ‘Oh, I never enlisted for this!’
“For miles around, the frightened inhabitants fled, they knew not whither; some continuing their flight until they dropped to the ground with exhaustion. Pocket-books and watches were taken by wholesale; bundles, shawls and valises were snatched out of women’s and children’s hands to be thrown away. Cows and dogs and cats were burned to death, and the death-cries of the poor dumb brutes sounded like the groans of human beings. It is a picture that may be misrepresented, but cannot be heightened. One young girl was crying; but, meeting a squad of the marauders she controlled her tears, saying: ‘They shan’t see me cry!’ Full grown men, forgetful of themselves, sobbed over the destitution of those they loved, and self-sacrificing women strove to comfort those of weaker hearts, who had lost no more than themselves. We know of instances where persons had saved money and valuables of others, with which they had, in the excitement, been entrusted, to the exclusion of their own. In the midst of this awful scene, the sympathy and encouragement we had all along received from our loyal friends of a sister State, through the columns of the Tribune, Times and Independent, arose before us like a dense cloud, and, for the time, we hesitated which was most our enemy,—New York or Virginia. Five hundred of the enemy in our streets, two hundred as guard outside, three thousand within supporting distance; this, too, with more than two thousand effective United States cavalry only nine miles off, for hours. Oh, for one-half of the brave Franklin County boys, that were then far away from their homes, fighting the battles of the Union! We blame no one. Our loyalty, as strong as ever, forbids us; but there is an awful responsibility SOMEWHERE.
“One scoundrel accepted five dollars from a frightened female, to carry her trunk to a place of safety, where he coolly broke it open, and helped himself to the most valuable part of the contents. A little dead child was enclosed in a chest, and buried by the terrified parents in their garden, for fear it would be burned in their house.
“A lady in delicate health was watched by one of the robbers, and allowed to drag her trunk outside of the town; after which he searched it, and appropriated the valuables it contained. She asked, whether that was Southern chivalry, and received for reply: “Take that back, or I’ll blow your brains out.” She did not retract, and did not have her brains blown out. It was sad to see ladies escaping from their houses with nothing but a few photographs or an album.
“In the evening of that dreadful day, it was overpowering to witness the change in circumstances. One of our prominent citizens went with his family to the house of his hostler; another to the residence of his negro servant. On the next day it was a still more sorrowful sight to see refined ladies flock to the church to draw Government rations, and receive articles of second-hand clothing, sent up by the spontaneous charity of persons residing along the line of the Cumberland Valley Railroad. It was hard to eat the bitter bread of charity, but this mortification was borne with the same heroism with which they looked upon the sacking and burning of the dear old town. To see the grey-haired men and women, the middle-aged, the youthful, and childhood, all represented in the destitute but uncomplaining throng, was one of the most solemn sights the world ever saw. Wyoming and Chambersburg will live in the history of Pennsylvania, and the infamous names of Butler and McCausland, will be handed down to posterity, as the types of savage barbarity.
“At 2 P. M., the Union forces advanced through the town. The citizens cheered the dusty and jaded warriors, but no soldierly huzzas came from their parched and suffocated throats, as they rode through smoke and flame and the intense heat of the smouldering ruins. One repeated exclamation of, ‘My God!’ was all that was heard, and then, as they passed the flag-staff, each one shouted, ‘Remember Chambersburg!’ And so they exclaimed, and so they shouted, as they dashed at a trot through the town. I may live to be an old man, but never, never shall I see such sights again, as I saw that day in the stricken town of Chambersburg.
J. K. Shryock.”
Aug. 6, 1864.