But the supreme moment had come. Both parties now prepared for the final blow. It was four o’clock, and the evening was hot and sultry. The Federal army was drawn up in the form of a crescent. They begin to advance. They expect, it seems, to flank the left wing of the Confederate army. What was their amazement to find themselves suddenly confronted and flanked on their right wing by 1700 fresh troops. It was the army of Kirby Smith, for which Johnson had been so anxiously looking for several hours. Indeed, he had gone back to hasten forward these troops, who came on the railroad; but as there was not a moment to lose, the cars were stopped, and the troops were hastily hurried from the train in the forest. This arrival added another feature to Bull Run that made up its similarity to the battle of Waterloo in 1815. If the reader will take the trouble to compare these two battles, he will discover that there was a striking resemblance between them, in several respects. Hugo’s letter A, with some slight modifications, will apply to Bull Run. The whole fight of Waterloo was for the plateau of Mont St. Jean: the whole fight of Bull Run was for a plateau, where the battle began and ended. In the afternoon, there was the same irregular contest. Toward nightfall Blucher burst upon the field like a terrible avalanche, before which the dismayed French fled in terror. About four o’clock in the evening of that Sabbath day, just as Beauregard gave the order to his entire line to advance, Kirby Smith, like Blucher, suddenly emerged from the woods, and burst like a thunder-clap upon the scene. This, at once, changed the whole aspect of the fight. The disheartened Federals gave way on the right, and fled before the intrepid soldiers of Kirby Smith. At the same time, the entire “rebel” army charged with reviving hopes and renewed energy. The Federals disappeared like phantoms from the gory scene, leaving clouds of smoke, abandoned wagons, wounded and dead men, to mark the spot where they had so lately fought with a courage and desperation worthy of their blood. Kirby Smith had saved the day.
Soon the roar of battle ceased, and the “rebel yell” announced to those in the distance that the first important battle of the war had terminated in favor of the “Great Rebellion.” The “Grand Army,” which had, that Sabbath morning, marched out with so firm a step, rolled back upon Washington in broken fragments. It may appear a strange fact in history, but that one battle terminated the whole campaign of the year 1861.
The enemy has gone, and the storm of battle has subsided. We can now quietly walk over the terrible field, and examine its gory wake. In the final charge, the second Mississippi, with the exception of one regiment, was on the extreme left wing of the Confederate army. Just at the time that Kirby Smith’s bayonet flashed like lightning into the cloud of battle, a young officer was seen to wave his sword, and fall to the earth with a groan. It was Ernest Edgefield.
CHAPTER VII.
AFTER THE BATTLE.