Lieut. Willoughby, of company F, was wounded, and Lieut. Williams, of company B, was killed, while fording the river—a noble-hearted fellow, mourned by all who knew him. Orderly Davis, of company A, mortally wounded while firing the last shot at the enemy, was carried to an Island midway of the stream, where he was left to die—but before his brave spirit winged its flight to that other camping ground, he placed under a log by his side, his watch, pocket-book, knife, and all of his trinkets, and the next day when his comrades returned to the spot to give him burial, these things were missed; when the log being accidentally misplaced, his treasures were disclosed, and afterwards were sent home to his wife. Knowing his hours were few, lying there alone, dying, with only God’s Angels watching over him, his last thoughts were of the dear ones at home, secreting his effects as narrated, hoping them to fall into the hands of his friends, that his wife and babies might receive this, his last, his dying gift. We often read of heroism upon the battle field when the blood is up, with flags waving in the breeze, bright bayonets gleaming on every side, and the thundering of cannon crashing through the air. But thus to die alone, to fill an unknown and forgotten grave, with the sad murmurings of the Shenandoah chaunting its endless requiem around his resting-place, and leave such evidence of coolness and christian fortitude in meeting the grim messenger face to face, is a kind of bravery before which that of the battlefield pales into insignificance.
Sergeant Hart, our color bearer, was shot in the arm while going down the bank. Adjutant McCracken standing near by, relieved him of the flag and started across the river, but getting into deep water, was compelled to let it go in the rushing waters, in order to save himself. The flag however was recovered soon after, it having lodged in a fallen tree just below, and after being borne through several other engagements, was sent to Columbus, where, a mere shred, it now hangs in the Arm and Trophy Department of the State.
Why we were not supported in this engagement was always a mystery to us, unless our finding the enemy in force determined Gen. Wright that it would not be prudent to cross over more troops, and so issued the order for us to fall back.
We found the 6th and 19th corps’ drawn up in good shape, and as we marched through their lines, our little division did not present a very flattering appearance—as every man was wet “through and through,” and generally covered with mud, from climbing the clay river banks. We encamped under the shelter of a dense woods, just back from the river, and proceeded to dry our clothing, and get our guns and ammunition in condition for service.
On the 19th, the 6th and 19th corps’ moved off in the direction of Washington, and we heard, that they had got up another scare at the capital. The next day after the departure of these troops, we again crossed the river higher up, at the regular ford, in a drenching rain storm; we waded the river, which, at this point, was about two feet deep, and it was quite laughable to see some of the men attempt to keep dry. We went into camp just on the other side, remaining there until the next day, when we pushed on to Winchester.
On the 24th, about noon, signs of the enemy’s approach became evident, and our forces were soon in position, and at 2 o’clock a fierce battle was once more raging around the valley city. For several hours the field was fiercely contested, when, being overpowered on all sides, our troops were compelled to fall back, saving all our trains, and taking with us the most of our wounded. It will be remembered that we were opposed by the same army that we measured strength with over the same ground one month later, after being reinforced by the 6th and 19th corps’, with Gen. Sheridan commanding. In this engagement the gallant Gen. Mulligan fell, fighting at the head of his division, just as the day was lost.
No shoes or clothing had been issued to our men since the Hunter raid, and many of our boys were still bare-foot, for such of them, that retreat, was simply terrible; many of them unable to walk upon their blood-clotted feet, were compelled to fall out and were taken prisoners, most of whom died afterwards from cruel treatment in Andersonville. We made a stand at Bunker Hill, holding the enemy in check until early next morning, then fell back to Martinsburg, skirmishing all the way. We held the town until all the military stores at this point, together with our sick and wounded, had been put into cars and started for Cumberland, on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad; when with our train we fell back to Williamsport, fording the Potomac. On the morning of the 26th we pushed on through Sharpsburg, thence to Pleasant Valley, on to Harper’s Ferry, where we again crossed the Potomac, and went into camp on the 28th at Hall Town, four miles distant.
Thus in sixteen days had we, in our worn-out condition, many of the men without shoes or proper clothing, fought in two severe engagements and marched one hundred and ninety miles. Here we made out clothing and pay rolls, and on July 30th, while issuing clothing to the men, received orders to march to the defense of the Capitol, and immediately started back into Maryland. None who were on that march will soon forget the intense heat of that July day; it is said that over one hundred of the army died from sun stroke, and many more were seriously effected. After marching around through Maryland for four or five days, it was discovered that the “Washington scare” had been over estimated, and on the 5th of August we went into camp at Monocacy, where our division was ordered out at sun-down to witness the execution of a deserter from the 23d O. V. I., being the first and only time during the war that our regiment was called upon to witness such a scene.
CHAPTER VII.
THE CAMPAIGN UNDER GENERAL SHERIDAN UP TO THE TIME THE REGIMENT WAS TRANSFERRED TO THE ARMY OF THE JAMES, INCLUDING THE BATTLES OF BERRYVILLE, OPEQUAN, FISHER’S HILL AND CEDAR CREEK.
While the regiment was lying at Pleasant Valley, Gen. Sheridan assumed command of the entire department of West Virginia, which was hereafter to be called the Department of the Shenandoah. A new state of warfare was now inaugurated. The Rebels of the beautiful valley were to be taught a lesson which they would never forget, and victory was hereafter to perch upon our banners. Everything now assumed an air of business and preparation; clothing and shoes, which were much needed by the men, were issued in abundance, and our boys again felt that spirit of confidence which is a sure prelude to success. On Monday, August 8th, we crossed the river at Harper’s Ferry, and encamped on the banks of the Shenandoah, near Hall-Town; remaining there until the 10th, when we again started up the valley; encamping at night near Berryville. The next day we marched up the river through a wild, picturesque region of country; it was a very warm day, and the men suffered greatly for the want of water. We encamped about eighteen miles from our start of the morning. The next day we changed our direction to the right until we struck the valley pike at Middletown, where we found that our cavalry had been pushing the Rebels down the road from Martinsburg. We went into camp about three miles from Cedar Creek, and during the four days we remained here, our boys subsisted mainly upon “roasting ears,” we having arrived just in time to help the good people of that section enjoy this luxury. On the evening of the 26th we received orders to move, and just before starting, Col. Wilson was taken very ill—the result of an overdose of morphine, administered by Surgeon Hyatt, and the command of the regiment devolved upon Capt. Chamberlin. We moved back to Winchester that night, and the next day we marched to Berryville. All this time Col. Wilson was very sick, and of course could receive but little care; but he was now taken to a farm-house near by, and every attention paid him possible. The Colonel finally recovered, though it was a long time before he was himself again.