To us youngsters who had come expecting to aid in a successful defense of the city, this kind of talk was not particularly cheerful, and I would have welcomed any change in the conversation; but Bill Jepson had used his eyes to good advantage during the short stay in Washington, and was determined that we should receive the benefit of what he had seen and heard.
"Last night Mr. Monroe, the secretary of state, sent a despatch to the President, an' I saw a copy of it while on duty at the commodore's quarters. It read like this: 'The enemy are advanced six miles on the road to the Wood Yard, and our troops are retiring. Our troops were on the march to meet them, but in too small a body to engage. General Winder proposes to retire till he can collect them in a body. The enemy are in full march to Washington. Have the materials prepared to destroy the bridges.' That was signed with Mr. Monroe's name, lads, an' after so much, he wrote, 'You had better remove the records.' Now do you think I'm so far out of the way in sayin' that there's a good chance of our gettin' the worst of it?"
Just at that moment, to my great relief of mind, my father appeared in the doorway of the barracks, and I sprang to meet him.
How good it was to see his dear face once more! What a sense of relief came over me because he was near! I was yet so young as to believe that no harm could come to a fellow while his father was near, and on the moment all the fears which had been aroused by Bill Jepson passed out of mind.
It is not necessary for me to set down that conversation between my father and me while it related to the dear ones at home, or our own two selves; but when we had spoken our fill on such matters it was but natural we should come back to the situation in which our troops were placed, and, greatly to my surprise, I found that my father despaired of success in much the same measure as did Bill Jepson.
"We can only do our best, lad, and for your mother's sake we'll pray that both of us may go back to Benedict; but if only one, then it should be you, who have promise of so many more years of life than I."
We were yet speaking of matters much too private to be set down in a story like this, when the command came for all the men of Commodore Barney's force to fall into line, and on the instant we understood that we were to join the small army led by General Winder.
I know not how it was we were so confident as to our destination, except that the general and our commander had been long in consultation before this day; but certain it is we felt positive all of us were about to retrace our steps.
And now, while our men are scurrying to and fro making ready for another march before having recovered from the one just ended, let me set down here what I afterward read in print, for it will serve to explain why we did not do that which the country expected, and even demanded:
"Winder's situation was an unenviable one. With a comparatively strong foe on his front, ready to fall upon him or the capital he was expected to defend, he had only about twenty-five hundred armed and effective men in camp, and many of these had been from their homes only three or four days. They were undisciplined and untried, and surrounded and influenced by a crowd of excited civilians, to whose officious but well-intended information and advice the general was compelled to listen. In addition to this intrusion and interference of common men, he was embarrassed by the presence and suggestions of the President and his Cabinet ministers, the most of them utterly ignorant of military affairs. Better would it have been for Winder and the country if these civilians, from the President down, had kept away from the camp and the field, and prudently preserved silence."[A]