Early’s column swept like a hurricane down the valley, and like a cyclone burst upon Maryland and Pennsylvania. It marched fearlessly wherever it pleased and fought tremendously wherever it encountered a foe. Its invasion of the North at a time when Grant with three or four men to Lee’s one was beleaguering the Southern capital, was romantic, gallant, picturesque, startling. But it did not accomplish the purpose intended. It was Grant’s conviction that Washington City could take care of itself; that the authorities there had force enough at command, or within call, to meet and repel a Confederate invasion, without any assistance from him. He, first of all Federal generals, acted upon this conviction, and refused to weaken his lines at Petersburg and Richmond by sending any considerable forces to defend Washington against Early. Grant had little imagination, but he had a great fund of common sense.
Only one considerable action was the outcome of this expedition. In a minor encounter on the day before the battle was fought, Captain Marshall Pollard lost a leg, thus leaving his sergeant-major, Owen Kilgariff, in command of the battery, reduced now to four guns, with only four horses to each piece or caisson.
At Monocacy, Kilgariff fought the guns at their best, and by a dash of a kind which artillery is neither armed nor expected to make, captured two Federal rifled guns, with their full complement of horses. In his report he spoke of this feat of arms only as “an opportunity which offered to add two guns to the battery and to raise the tale of horses to the regulation number of six to each gun and caisson.”
But that night General Early sent for Kilgariff, in response to that non-commissioned officer’s request that a commissioned officer should be sent to take command of the battery.
“I don’t see the necessity,” said Early, in his abrupt way. “I don’t see how anybody could fight his guns better than you have done. Get yourself killed if you want somebody else to command Pollard’s battery. So long as you live, I shall send nobody else. How does it happen that you haven’t a commission?”
“I do not covet that responsibility,” Kilgariff answered evasively.
“Well, that responsibility will rest on your shoulders from this hour forth, till the end of this campaign, unless you escape it by getting yourself killed. I shall certainly not send anybody else to command your battery while you live. From this hour I shall regard you as Captain Kilgariff; and when I get myself into communication with General Lee or the war department, I’ll see that the title is made good.”
“Thank you, General,” answered Kilgariff. “But I sincerely wish you wouldn’t. I have already received and rejected one commission as captain, and I have declined a still higher rank offered me.”
“What an idiot you must be!” squeaked Early in his peculiar, falsetto voice. “But you know how to fight your guns, and I’ve got a use for such men as you are. You may do as you please after this campaign is over, but while you remain under my command you’ll be a captain. I’ll see to that, and there’ll be no nonsense about it, either.”
An hour later, an order, officially signed and certified, came to Kilgariff. It read in this wise:—