The Maryland Line in the Confederate States Army.

by W. W. Goldsborough

I found Colonel Johnson with his brigade drawn up in line of battle close by the edge of a woods, and in momentary expectation of an attack.

“How do you do, Captain?” he greeted me, “the very man I wished most to see. Here I am in command of a brigade without officers. The Forty-eighth Virginia has but two Lieutenants left. Come, let me introduce you to Dabney. He is at present in command of the regiment, and I know will not hesitate to surrender it to you at my suggestion.”

I found Lieutenant Dabney a most agreeable young gentleman, and he cheerfully tendered me the command of his regiment.

I then informed the Colonel of the obligation I was under to return to my companions, but he would not listen to it for a moment.

Johnson then explained to me the situation. Immediately in our front, and distant some two hundred yards, was a railroad cut. This was considered the key to the position, and was to be fought for to the last extremity. “You will therefore take fifty of your men and place them under cover of that thicket to the right, in close proximity to the excavation, and keep me advised of all you see and hear.”

I detailed my fifty men, and after taking a careful survey of the ground I was to traverse, made a run for it across the field amidst a shower of bullets from the enemy’s sharpshooters, but which fortunately did no execution. Shortly after reaching the designated point I had the misfortune to lose the services of Lieutenant Dabney by the accidental explosion of his pistol, and I had, therefore, but one officer left.

We had been there perhaps an hour when I became convinced from hearing the command “forward, guide centre,” repeatedly given in the woods some four hundred yards distant in our immediate front, that the enemy was massing for an attack. Finding my men reluctant to take the risk of recrossing the field with a message to the Colonel, I was compelled to go myself. Placing them under the command of a Sergeant, I made the attempt and reached the brigade in safety. I reported to Johnson what I had heard; and at his suggestion we walked to the brow of the hill before us, and to our astonishment beheld three lines of battle emerging from the woods, and moving rapidly upon the railroad excavation.

It was out of the question for me to return to my fifty men, and I should not have gone if I could, for the greater portion of my command was with the brigade. Rushing back therefore with him, the command “forward, double-quick,” was instantly given, and then commenced a wild race as to which should reach the much coveted point first. As we emerged from the woods, and became exposed to the view of the enemy’s artillery, he opened a terrible fire, which was returned with interest upon his advancing columns by thirty pieces of our artillery on a plateau to the right of us.

We reached the opposite banks of the cut simultaneously, and then began one of the most desperate and bloody conflicts of the war. Muzzle to muzzle, each delivered their fire into the very bosoms of their foe. Dead and wounded men fell by hundreds, and many on both sides rolled down the embankment and intermingled at the bottom. The importance of the place was known to each, and each was determined to possess it. The appearance of Colonel Johnson upon that field I shall never forget. But few men had ever before had so important a trust imposed in them, and there he intended to win or die. Never have I seen such sublime courage displayed upon the field of battle. In his shirt sleeves, his eye flashing, his lips compressed, he was everywhere encouraging his men. Three different times he ran along his line, the target for many a bullet, and how he escaped unscathed that awful fire, God only knows.

But the enemy are too strong for us, and our right begins to swing back, contesting every inch of ground. And the enemy’s left cross the cut. At this moment a man fell at my side. Picking up his musket, I leveled it and fired, and when in the act of lowering the piece, I felt a sharp pain in the fore part of my left arm, and glancing at it, discovered I was hit. Even as I did so, I received a tremendous blow in my left side, and was knocked off my feet, and fell heavily to the ground. Our troops giving way left me midway between the contending forces, and never did a poor devil more heartily wish himself away from a warm place than I did from this, for the bullets were knocking up the dust all about me; but I knew to move even a limb would draw the fire of the enemy, and I contented myself with laying still, and watching the progress of the fight. The combatants surged backwards and forwards as each gained or lost some temporary advantage; but the tide of battle was evidently fast going against Johnson. The enemy were too strong for him; still he fought on. Everything seemed lost, and Jackson’s corps will surely be cut in two. Why do not the reserves come up?