On our right Nicholl’s brigade of Louisianians had not been so successful, and there the fight still raged. The enemy here held a stronger position, and could not be dislodged.
As the firing in our front had ceased temporarily, I took advantage of it to go in search of Colonel Herbert, from whom I wanted further orders, and to whom I wished to report my situation. Upon reaching the right of the battalion, however, I was grieved to learn, through Lieutenant George Thomas, that the gallant Colonel had been pierced at the first fire by no less than three balls, and carried from the field in a supposed dying condition.
Sending for the commanders of companies, with the view to ascertain their respective losses, I was shocked at the reports made by them. Nearly one hundred men had fallen in the Second Maryland alone, and at least three hundred in the brigade, during those few dreadful minutes.
As Captain Murray had the right of the battalion by seniority, I directed him, for the present, to take command of that wing whilst I looked after the important position I had taken at right angles with him after we had carried the enemy’s breastworks, and to inform General Steuart, if he should see him, where I was, and how I was situated. I had scarcely returned, when the enemy opened again with increased fury, but as the brigade was now sheltered behind the log breastworks and immense rocks that covered the hill, their fire did but little execution. The men were directed to fire at the flash from their muskets, and from the shouts of “stop that firing, you are shooting your own men,” I was convinced it was with effect. They must have been new troops, ordered from another point, as they did not seem to be aware of the change that had taken place in their front. Many came into our lines to remonstrate with us, and found themselves prisoners.
An incident of this kind occurred here, which, under different circumstances, would have afforded some amusement. Captain Torsch, of Company E, whose gallantry had been conspicuous during the evening, whilst urging his men to fire as rapidly as possible, was approached by a Federal officer and peremptorily ordered to cease. The Captain had received no instructions to obey officers in blue uniforms, and he therefore declared “he’d be d—d if he would,” and seizing the astonished “lover of the Union” by the throat, dragged him into my presence, and demanded in an excited manner that I should “give him the devil for coming inside our lines and interfering with him in the discharge of his duties.” The fellow was dreadfully scared, and begged piteously to be sent to the rear, as he “did not wish to be shot by his own men.”
Another, somewhat similar, occurred shortly after, in which the author was a party. Whilst directing the firing, I was approached by an officer on horseback, and asked how “the fight was going?” I saw his mistake directly, and telling him I did not know, walked towards his horse’s head to take him by the bridle. As I did so his suspicions must have been aroused, for he inquired “What corps is this?” “A Rebel corps, sir, and you are my prisoner!” I exclaimed, presenting a pistol to his breast. With perfect self-possession he dismounted, and unbuckling his belt handed it to me with sword and pistol attached, playfully remarking as he did so, “Take them, sir, they are yours, and fairly won.” He proved to be Lieutenant Egbert, a staff officer, who in carrying a dispatch had become lost in the darkness.
By ten o’clock the firing had ceased, and the men rested upon their arms, prepared to repel an attack at an instant’s warning. The officers were required to remain awake during the night, and a vigilant line of pickets kept a watchful eye in the direction of the enemy, who were but fifty yards distant. They were also on the alert, as we were assured by an occasional volley of musketry.
During the whole night artillery and wagons could be heard rumbling along the Gettysburg turnpike, and as the sound seemed to recede we thought the enemy might be retreating. Generals Johnson and Steuart were attentive listeners, and I heard Johnson express such a belief. I sincerely hoped it might prove true, for I was sickened at the prospects before us.
CHAPTER VII.
The long wished for day at length began to appear, and at early dawn the troops were awakened from their slumbers to renew if necessary the dreadful struggle. In vain I peered through the misty light for a glimpse of the enemy, but none could be seen. They had certainly retreated under cover of night, and we were right in our conjectures; and now for a pursuit in the direction of Baltimore. But even as I thus anticipated the pleasures in store for us, of the prospect of once more seeing home and loved ones there, I was startled by a terrible volley of musketry in our front, whilst simultaneously several pieces of artillery opened upon the flank of the three companies I had thrown across the breastworks the previous evening, and I was compelled to hastily withdraw them and seek the cover of this our only protection. The fire was awful, and the whole hillside seemed enveloped in a blaze, although it was but occasionally we could catch sight of an enemy. The trees were riddled, and the balls could be heard to strike the breastworks like hailstones upon the roof tops. The fire was returned as best we could, but it was almost certain death to expose any vital part of the body; and many were killed and wounded by reckless exposure of person.