CHAPTER VI.
FROM CHERRY RUN TO THE TIME THAT SHERIDAN TOOK COMMAND, INCLUDING THE BATTLES OF SNICKER’S FERRY, WINCHESTER, JULY 22D, AND MARTINSBURG.
Two days’ rest at this place when we were again on the road, without having received any supplies of clothing, although sadly needing them; many of the boys were bare-footed, and all, with uniforms, filthy and in tatters,—as can readily be concieved, when it is taken into consideration, that they had been used for marching in by day and sleeping in by night, with nothing to protect them from the pelting storm while marching, or from the ground while lying down, and this for over six weeks upon a raid, which for continuous fighting, severe marching and scarcity of rations, the history of the war presents no parallel.
Arriving at Martinsburg on the afternoon of July 13th, we visited some of our old haunts, and found that things had undergone changes generally, that the Rebels had been here, since we’d been gone, was evident, as many of our officers found out to their displeasure. All of our baggage, and camp and garrison equipage, was stored here, when starting on the “raid” up the valley; the officers leaving their valises at different private houses, containing their best clothing, all of which had been visited, and their contents duly confiscated. Lieutenants Johnson and Keyes being the only ones overlooked, for which they were duly thankful, and indulged in a little merriment at their brother officers’ misfortune.
On the 13th we broke camp, taking the road towards Harper’s Ferry, arriving there the next forenoon. On the 15th we again started out, crossing the river on a pontoon bridge, and marched down to Berlin, a little dried-up town, six miles below the Ferry, on the north bank of the Potomac, with no feature of interest, save the wildly beautiful scenery that abounds on either hand; the bold bluffs on the opposite bank—tree-crowned—seemingly guarding the noble river below, while away to the southward, the Blue Ridge, rising tier on tier, giving the surrounding atmosphere that peculiar hue, from which this range of mountains takes its name, and to the westward rises, almost to the very clouds, in picturesque beauty, the historic heights at Harper’s Ferry.
We had been detailed as escort to a battery of artillery, and early on the following morning, the “crossing over” began. The river at this point runs with great rapidity, and the bottom at the ford, we found to be full of huge boulders, causing many a mishap and much labor; sometimes a horse would go down almost out of sight, but, at last, by swimming and wading, the crossing of the artillery was safely effected; the men were transported over on an old flat-boat that lay rotting, near by, on the shore. We pushed rapidly forward to Purcillville, an insignificant hamlet, near Snicker’s Gap.
The next day being Sunday, and, for a wonder, not being called upon for any sort of duty, was passed in a sort of sleepy, dreamy way—a fact noticeable throughout our whole command. Since the severe marching and physical endurance of the past two months.
Early on Monday, the 18th, our division moved down to Snicker’s Ferry, where the enemy was posted in force on the other side of the river. Our brigade was immediately pushed forward, plunging into the water, which was waist deep, we crossed over, driving the Rebels before us, and took a position on the west bank of the famed Shenandoah. The rest of the division soon joined us, and our line of battle was rapidly formed. We had thrown out a heavy line of skirmishers, as soon as the crossing was effected, Col. Wilson taking charge of them in person, mounted on his black charger, he rode from one end of the line to the other, getting it firmly established, and, though the air was thick with bullets, he escaped unharmed.
Here occurred one of those unfortunate fights in which it was the fortune of our forces so often to participate during the course of the war. Our lines were formed in something of a circle on the top of a knoll extending along the river, where, from the maneuvering of the enemy, we could see that they were in strong force. Soon they came charging down upon us, but our line stood firm as a rock, and sent them whirling back into the woods, where they re-formed their broken line, and with reinforcements came again to the attack, shaking their banners and yelling like mad-men, they came, but only to recoil, broken and shattered before our deadly volleys. Once again did they charge our unshaken line, but to be hurled back as before.
Night was now rapidly coming on, and we were anxiously looking for the balance of our troops to cross the river, but they did not come, and after twice getting orders, we began slowly to recross the river.
Our regiment and the 34th Massachusetts, than which there was no braver nor more gallant regiment in the service—were left to protect the rear, and of course, were the last to effect the crossing, in doing which many lives were lost, quite a number of men in the regiment being either shot in the river or drowned in its rushing waters.