When the fifteen hours of carnage had ceased, and the sun had gone down, spreading the gloom of a chilly October night over the wide extended field, there remained a scene more horrid than usual. The dead and dying of the two armies were commingled. Many of the wounded had dragged themselves to the streams in search of the first want of a wounded man—water. Many mangled and loosed horses were straggling over the field to add to the confusion. Wagons, gun-carriages, and caissons were strewn in disorder in the rear of the last stand of the Confederate Army. Abandoned ambulances, sometimes filled with dead and dying Confederates, were to be seen in large numbers, and loose teams dragged overturned vehicles over the hills and through the ravines. Dead and dying men were found in the darkness almost everywhere. Cries of agony from the suffering victims were heard in all directions, and the moans of wounded animals added much to the horrors of the night.
"Mercy abandons the arena of battle," but when the conflict is ended mercy again asserts itself. The disabled of both armies were cared for alike. Far into the night, with some all the long night, the heroes in the day's strife ministered to friend and foe alike, where but the night before our army had peacefully slumbered, little dreaming of the death struggle of the coming day. To an efficient medical corps, however, belong the chief credit for the good work done in caring for the unfortunate.
The loss in officers was unusually great. Besides Colonel Thoburn, killed in the opening of the battle, General D. D. Bidwell fell early in the day, and Colonel Charles R. Lowell, Jr., was killed near its close while leading a charge of his cavalry brigade. Eighty-six Union officers were killed or mortally wounded.
Many distinguished officers were wounded. Of the six officers belonging to my brigade staff who were turned over to Colonel Ball in the early morning, one only (Captain J. T. Rorer) remained uninjured at night. Two were dead.
All was peaceful enough on the 20th, though on every hand the evidence of the preceding day's struggle was to be seen. The dead of both armies were buried—the blue and the gray in separate trenches, to await the resurrection morn.
I have no purpose to speak of individual acts of bravery. The number of killed and wounded of each army was about the same. The casualties in my division, excluding 36 captured or missing, were, killed, 8 officers and 100 men; wounded, 34 officers and 528 men; total, 670. Wheaton lost, killed and wounded, 470; and Getty, 677. The killed and wounded in the Sixth Corps were 1926, including 109 of its artillery.
Much credit for the victory was given by Sheridan to the cavalry. Its total loss, in the three divisions under Torbert, was, killed, 2 officers and 27 men; wounded, 9 officers and 115 men; total, 153; not one fourth the number killed and wounded in my infantry division alone. The killed and wounded in my old brigade, under Colonel Ball, were 421.
The casualties of the Union Army are shown by the following official table:(29)
Killed. Wounded. Captured or
Missing. Aggregate.
Officers. Officers. Officers.
| Men. | Men. | Men.
Sixth Army Corps 23 275 103 1525 6 194 2126
Nineteenth Army Corps 19 238 109 1127 14 776 2383
Army of West Virginia 7 41 17 253 10 530 858
Provisional Division 1 11 6 66 18 102
Cavalry 2 27 9 115 43 196
—- —- —- —— —- —— ——
Grand total 52 529 244 3186 30 1561 5665
The table includes 156 of the artillery, killed or wounded.