"As soon as I saw the rear column, I told * * * Lieutenant Benjamin to fire. * * * He fired the first shot when the rear column presented itself. It just went over their heads, and hit a horse and rider in their rear. As soon as the first shot was fired, I gave the order for the whole six pieces of Artillery to open with grape and canister. The effect was terrible. They were all there, right before us, about 450 yards off, and had not suspected that we were going to fire at all, though they did not know what the reason was. Hunt's Battery (belonging to Richardson—who had by mistake got Greene's) performed so well, that, in thirty minutes, we dispersed every one of them!
"I do not know how many were killed, but we so crippled their entire force that they never came after us an inch. A man, who saw the effect of the firing, in the valley, said it was just like firing into a wheat field; the column gave way at once, before the grape and canister; they were just within available distance. I knew very well that if they but got into that basin, the first fire would cut them all to pieces; and it did. We continued to fire for thirty minutes, when there was nothing more to fire at, and no more shots were returned."
At a later hour—while remaining victorious at their well defended position, with the Enemy at their front, dispersed and silenced,—these two brigades of the Left Wing, receive orders to fall back on Centreville, and encamp. With the brigade of Richardson, and Greene's Battery in advance, Davies's own brigade and Hunt's Battery following, they fall back on the heights of Centreville "without the least confusion and in perfect order"—reaching them at 7 P.M.
Meantime Miles has been relieved from command, and McDowell has ordered Blenker's Brigade to take position a mile or more in advance of Centreville, toward Bull Run, on both sides of the Warrenton Pike, to protect the retreat, now being made, in "a few collected bodies," but mainly in great disorder—owing partly to the baggage-wagons choking the road, along which both venturesome civilians and fagged-out troops are retreating upon Centreville. This confused retreat passes through Blenker's lines until 9 o'clock P.M.—and then, all is secure.
At midnight, McDowell has decided to make no stand at Centreville, but to retire upon the defensive works at Washington. The order to retreat, is given, and, with the rear well guarded by Richardson's and Blenker's Brigades, is carried out, the van of the retreat, with no Enemy pursuing, degenerating finally into a "mob," which carries more or less panic into Washington itself, as well as terrible disappointment and chagrin to all the Loyal States of the Union.
Knowing what we now do, concerning the Battle of Bull Run, it is somewhat surprising, at this day, to read the dispatches sent by McDowell to General Scott's headquarters at Washington, immediately after it. They are in these words:
"CENTREVILLE, July 21, 1861—5:45 P.M.
"We passed Bull Run, engaged the Enemy, who, it seems, had just been re-enforced by General Johnston. We drove them for several hours, and finally routed them."
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]