A situation to try the stoutest hearts. — Hail Columbia! — Every man a hero. — Kilpatrick's ingenuity. — A pen-picture from "Soldiers of the Saddle." — Glazier thanked by his general. — Cessation of hostilities. — A black day. — Fitzhugh Lee proposes to crush Kilpatrick.-"Kil's" audacity. — Capture of Lieutenant Glazier. — Petty tyranny. — "Here, Yank, hand me that thar hat, and overcoat, and boots."
At this period of the war, the Cavalry Corps was separated into three divisions. Buford with his division fell back by the way of Stevensburg, and Gregg by Sulphur Springs; leaving Kilpatrick with the brigades of Custer and Davies, which included the "Harris Light," on the main thoroughfare along the railroad line. "No sooner," says Glazier, "had Kilpatrick moved out of Culpepper, than Hampton's cavalry division made a furious attack upon the 'Harris Light,' then acting as rear-guard, with the evident design of breaking through upon the main column to disperse, or delay it, so as to enable a flanking force to intercept our retreat. Gallantly repelling this assault, the command, on the eleventh of October, advanced to Brandy Station, where an accumulation of formidable difficulties threatened our annihilation." It appears that Fitzhugh Lee, with the flower of the Confederate cavalry, held possession of the only road over which it was possible for Kilpatrick to retire, while Stuart, at the head of another body of cavalry, supported by artillery well posted along a line of hills, completely covered the Federal left. His right was exposed to a galling fire from sharp-shooters hidden behind the forest; "while just behind them was Hampton's legion threatening speedy destruction to its surrounded foe." Here was a situation to try the stoutest hearts. Nothing daunted, however, by this terrific array of an enemy very much his superior in numbers, Kilpatrick displayed that decision and daring which ever characterized him. "His preparations for a grand charge," for he had determined to cut his way out of this cul-de-sac, "were soon completed. Forming his division into three lines of battle, he assigned the right to General Davies, the left to General Custer; and placing himself, with General Pleasanton, in the centre, advanced with terrible determination to the contest. Approaching to within a few yards of the enemy's lines, he ordered the band to strike up a national air, to whose stirring strains was added the blast of scores of bugles ringing out the 'charge.' Brave hearts became braver, and weak ones waxed strong, until 'pride of country had touched this raging sea of thought, and emotion kindled an unconquerable principle that affirmed every man a hero until death.'" The troops filled the air with their battle-cry, and hurled themselves on their unequal foe. "So swiftly swept forward this tide of animated power that the Confederates broke and fled, and Kilpatrick thus escaped a disaster which had seemed inevitable."
"No one"—we quote from "Soldiers of the Saddle,"—"who looked upon that wonderful panorama, can ever forget it. On the great field were riderless horses and dying men; clouds of dirt from solid shot and bursting shells, broken caissons, and overturned ambulances; and long lines of dragoons dashing into the charge, with their drawn and firmly grasped sabres glistening in the light of the declining sun; while far beyond the scene of tumult were the dark green forests skirting the distant Rappahannock."
LIEUTENANT GLAZIER AT BRANDY STATION. "Come on, Boys! We must break that line."
In this action Glazier, who occupied the post of volunteer aide to General Davies, had his horse shot under him, received a sabre-stroke on the shoulder, two bullets in his hat, and had his scabbard split by a shot or shell. His conduct was such as to obtain for him the thanks of his general and a promise of early promotion. This was the fourth battle of Brandy Station in which the Harris Light Cavalry had been engaged. The first occurred on August the twentieth, 1862, the second on June ninth, the third on September twelfth, and this last action on October eleventh, 1863. They were followed by a number of spirited engagements between the Federal cavalry and the cavaliers of the South—the former under Generals Buford and Kilpatrick, and the latter under Stuart and Wade Hampton. In all of these both sides behaved gallantly, the result being the masterly retreat of the Federals across the Rappahannock to the old battle-ground of Bull Run, where they made a protracted halt.
From this time until the fifteenth of October, nothing of sufficient importance transpired to require mention here. Upon that day an indecisive battle was fought at Bristoe Station, which was followed by another calm that continued until the nineteenth of October—a black day in the calendar of Willard Glazier's life.
Far away among the peaceful hills of his native State there fell upon his father's house a sorrow such as its inmates had never known before. Not that this family had escaped the ordinary bereavements of human life. On the contrary, two little children had been taken from them at intervals of time which seemed to them cruelly brief. But the death of an infant, while a sad, is a beautiful thing to witness. There is no flower that blooms on a baby grave that does not speak to the world-worn heart, of Immortality. The grief, therefore, is gentle in its touch. But with the ebb of a maturer life the sorrow is of a different character, and when the physician announced to this worthy couple that their daughter, Elvira, would die, they were stunned by the blow, and when the event came "they refused" like Rachel "to be comforted." The child that is going from us is, for the time, the favorite, and these afflicted parents could not realize that she who had grown up among them, the ewe lamb of their flock, could be torn from their loving arms, and go down, like coarser clay, to the dark grave. She was so good, so gentle, so loving to her kindred, that their simple hearts could not understand how God could let her die, in the very bloom and beauty of her maidenhood. But though crushed, they bowed their heads in submission. Their hearts were almost broken, but they rebelled not against the Hand that chastened them. Why is it that such examples of tender feeling and unquestioning faith are seldom found in cities? Is it that "the memories which peaceful country scenes call up, are not of this world; nor of its thoughts and hopes?" That "their gentle influences teach us how to weave fresh garlands for the graves of those we love, purify our thoughts, and beat down old enmities and hatreds?" And that "beneath all this there lingers in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness of having held such feelings long before, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends down pride and worldliness before it?" The physician had said that Elvira would not live another day, and the mother sat down to the sad task of writing the mournful news to her soldier son. Meanwhile beyond the Rappahannock, a scene was on the eve of being enacted, which was destined to inflict upon her a pain as poignant as that she was, now about to bestow.
The night of October eighteenth was passed by Kilpatrick's command at Gainesville, but the first faint streak of dawn saw him and his faithful followers in the saddle, booted, spurred, and equipped for some enterprise as yet unexplained to them, but evidently, in their leader's estimation, one of "pith and moment." At the word of command, the force, including the "Harris Light," moved forward at a quick trot, taking the road to Warrenton, and anticipating a brush with Stuart's cavalry who, during the previous ten hours, had thrown out videttes in their immediate front.