In the battle of Shepherdstown Captain Frederick Augustus Buhl, of the First Michigan was mortally wounded, dying a few days later. He was a Detroit boy, and a classmate of mine in Ann Arbor when the war broke out. I was deeply grieved at his death as I had learned to love him like a brother. He was conspicuous for his gallantry in all the engagements in which he participated, especially at Front Royal and Shepherdstown.
For two days the brigade was lost. For a time the report of its capture was generally credited. That it escaped, no thanks were due to General Torbert, the chief of cavalry. It is not likely that he knew anything about what a predicament he had left Custer in. The latter was, as usual, equal to the emergency.
I must pass now rapidly over a period of nearly a month, devoted, for the most part, to reconnoitering and retreating, to the eve of the battle of Winchester.
September 18, about 8 o'clock in the evening, I went to headquarters to consult Dr. Wooster, brigade surgeon, about the condition of my health. I was very feeble, unable to eat, my eyes and skin the color of certain newspapers during the Spanish-American war. The doctor told me I must go home and insisted on making out a certificate of disability, on which I might obtain a "leave of absence." General Custer and most of his staff were present. I recall the circumstances very well, for a conversation in which the general asked me confidentially certain questions, was incautiously repeated by some one who was present and returned to vex me after many years. I returned to my own camp about nine or half past nine, much cast down over the doctor's diagnosis of my case. I mention all this to show how secretly the preparations for the eventful next day had been made. Not a word was dropped during my long interview with the general and his staff to arouse the suspicion that the army was about to attack Early. Yet, at midnight, orders were received to be ready to move at two o'clock in the morning. Before that hour, horses were in line saddled, the men ready to mount. My cook made a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I drank half of the tea but could not eat the toast. At three o'clock I mounted my favorite saddle horse "Billy" and by order of General Custer, led my regiment in advance of the division, toward Locke's Ford on the Opequon creek. Nothing was said, but every one knew that the army was in motion and that great things were in store for us.
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BATTLE FIELD OF WINCHESTER VA.
We neared the ford about daylight. There was a faint hope that the enemy might be taken by surprise and the ford captured without resistance, as it was a difficult crossing when bravely defended. In this, however, we were doomed to disappointment, for an alert foe was found awaiting the attack. Indeed, they must have known of the federal approach. Halting an eighth of a mile back and out of sight, Custer directed me to dismount the regiment and move in column of fours through a ravine at right angles with the creek. This ravine ran out at the top, where it reached the edge of a plowed field. This field extended some 100 or 150 yards to the crest overlooking the ford. Along the crest were fences, outbuildings, and the farm house. Thence, there was an abrupt descent to the bed of the Opequon Creek. This side hill slope consisted of cleared fields divided by fences. The hill where the house and barns were, also sloped off to the left. The road to the ford skirted the hill to the left till it reached the bank, then ran parallel with the creek to a point about on a line with the farm house, where it turned to the left and, crossing the stream, took a serpentine course up the opposite slope. This latter was wooded and dotted on both sides of the road with piles of rails behind which were posted infantry sharpshooters.
The leading files had barely reached the summit, at the edge of the plowed ground, when the enemy opened fire on the head of the column of fours, before the regiment had debouched. There was momentary confusion, as the sharpshooters appeared to have the exact range. The regiment deployed forward into line under fire, and with General Custer by my side we charged across the field to the crest. Custer was the only mounted man in the field. Reaching the houses and fences, the Sixth proceeded to try to make it as uncomfortable for the confederates as they had been doing for us. General Custer had gone back to direct the movements of the other regiments which were still under cover in the rear.
The charge prostrated me. I succeeded in getting across the field, cheered on by the gallant Custer, who rode half way, but then fell down and for a minute or two could not stand on my feet. I suppose my pale face and weak condition made a very fair presentment of a colonel demoralized by fright. It was a case of complete physical exhaustion. While it is probably for the most part moral rather than physical courage that spurs men into battle, it is equally true that good health and a sound body are a good background for the display of moral courage. If any of my friends think that jaundice and an empty stomach are a good preparation for leading a charge across a plowed field in the face of an intrenched foe I hope that they never may be called upon to put their belief to the proof.