“For this act I alone am responsible, as the officers engaged in it were simply executing my orders, and had no discretion left them. Notwithstanding the lapse of time which has occurred, and the result of the war, I am perfectly satisfied with my conduct on this occasion, and see no reason to regret it.
“McCausland then moved in the direction of Cumberland, but on approaching that town, he found it defended by a force under Kelly, too strong for him to attack, and he withdrew towards Hampshire county, in Virginia, and crossed the Potomac near the mouth of the South Branch, capturing the garrison at that place, and partially destroying the railroad bridge. He then invested the post on the railroad at New Creek, but finding it too strongly fortified to take by assault, he moved to Moorefield, in Hardy county, near which place he halted to rest and recruit his men and horses, as the command was now considered safe from pursuit. Averill, however, had been pursuing from Chambersburg with a body of cavalry, and Johnson’s brigade was surprised in camp, before day, on the morning of the 7th of August, and routed by Averill’s force. This resulted also in the rout of McCausland’s brigade, and the loss of the artillery, (four pieces,) and about three hundred prisoners from the whole command. The balance of the command made its way to Mount Jackson in great disorder, and much weakened. This affair had a very damaging effect upon my cavalry for the rest of the campaign.”
McCausland had not the manliness to take the responsibility of this surprise, which was brought about by his own neglect and incaution, but sought to throw the blame upon Johnson, who demanded a court of inquiry, but it was not allowed. McCausland was the commanding officer, and Johnson his subordinate. He had selected the camp and posted his pickets, and was of course bound to keep himself advised of the position and propinquity of the enemy, and to advise his subordinate of danger. He never did keep himself so informed; the only intimation he ever gave was a mere verbal one by a courier, at two o’clock at night, that Averill was at Romney, thirty miles off, the evening before, and to be ready and saddle up by daylight. The order conveyed no intimation of danger, and General McCausland had no such idea, for he slept three miles away from his camp, and was absent when his command was attacked.
Soon after the Moorefield affair Early’s army moved to Fisher’s Hill, when Gilmor (with whom the First Maryland was still serving) was ordered to scout in his front. Shortly after Sheridan retreated to Winchester, beyond which place Early pursued him. A series of severe encounters ensued with the enemy’s cavalry in the vicinity of Winchester, Martinsburg, Bunker Hill, Leetown and Charlestown, in which the First Maryland took a prominent part, losing heavily.
One of the heaviest of these fights I will here speak of at length, as it has been most strangely misrepresented by Colonel Gilmor in his “Four Years in the Saddle.” The fight at Bunker Hill is the one alluded to, where Colonel Gilmor says the First Maryland “refused to charge when ordered by him.” The facts are these:
On the morning of the 13th of August, 1864, a brigade of Lomax’s command (to which was attached the First Maryland and Gilmor’s cavalry, all under command of Gilmor,) had advanced and driven in the enemy’s pickets, and pushed back his cavalry several miles below Bunker Hill, where they halted for a while and then turned to retrace their steps. The enemy in the meanwhile had been heavily reinforced, and pressed hard upon the retreating column, of which the First Maryland formed the rear. The enemy became more and more pressing as they advanced, until a charge was ordered by Colonel Gilmor, which had the effect of checking them, and his vastly superior force only saved him from rout. These charges had to be repeated again and again, the First Maryland retiring excellent order at a walk. When the stream which crosses the pike at Bunker Hill was reached, Gilmor, who had been much delayed, of course, in making these charges, found himself entirely unsupported, all the other regiments of the brigade having retired to the shelter of the infantry, which was formed in line about a mile distant. At this juncture the head of the enemy’s column, immediately in the rear of the battalion, had entered the stream before the rear of the First Maryland had reached the opposite bank, two other of his columns meanwhile moving unopposed parallel to the pike, and were at least a mile in the rear of the little band battling with ten times their number. At this most critical period, right in the midst of the stream, the battalion wheeled and again charged, meeting the enemy midway, when a most desperate hand to hand fight ensued, the blood of both intermingling with its current. For some minutes they held the enemy in check, expecting reinforcements, but none were available, and under the desperate nature of the circumstances General Lomax ordered a battery, near the line of battle which the infantry was forming, to open on the struggling mass. The artillery officer remonstrated, as he was satisfied he would damage friend as well foe; but the order was repeated. The first few shots fell in the ranks of the enemy, and rendered material aid to the handful of heroes in such imminent peril, but unfortunately a shell at last struck right in their midst, when, of course, the battalion broke. The fire of a foe in front and a friend in rear was more than human nature could withstand; but even then they did not leave the field, but retired, stubbornly contesting every foot of ground, until they reached a house standing in a field near the pike, and midway between Bunker Hill and the infantry line, where some of the command formed on both sides, which they were obliged to do to confront the now rapidly advancing enemy. Here a stand was made, and the fight continued for sometime. On the side of the house next the pike was the color bearer of the battalion, Colonel Gilmor, Captain Ditty, Captain Raisin and some fifteen or twenty officers and men, and it becoming evident that they could no longer hold the enemy at bay, Colonel Gilmor turned to this handful and exclaimed, “We’ll go at them again,” but had not moved five steps, the battalion at his heels, before he dropped his pistol and wheeled around, the blood streaming from his neck, and galloped off, saying as he did so, “I’m killed.” Seeing the folly of remaining longer, the command retired upon the infantry, which easily repulsed the enemy’s cavalry. This was the last order to charge given that day, and most faithfully was it obeyed, even by twenty against a thousand.
This is a correct statement of the matter, and it is much to be regretted that Colonel Gilmor should be the only man who ever preferred such a charge or cast a reflection upon the fair fame of the First Maryland, every man of which was a hero of an hundred battles, and would follow where any man dared to lead.
In this desperate fight I have to record the death of the gallant Lieutenant Henry Blackiston, of company B, who fell while performing prodigies of valor. Poor fellow, he was universally beloved, and his death deeply regretted by his companions.
After this affair, great dissatisfaction was produced in the First Maryland by an order of General Early’s consolidating the command, then very much reduced, with Gilmor’s irregular cavalry, and placing the whole under that officer. The entire battalion remonstrated against what they conceived to be the injustice done them, and all the officers tendered their resignations except one, and that one acted upon the conviction that resignation was not the proper remedy of the wrong, which he condemned as fully as any one. None of the resignations were accepted, when the objection to the consolidation was urged at the Department in Richmond so earnestly that the order was revoked, and the command severed from the connection with Gilmor, and returned to its original status.
Soon after Captain G. W. Dorsey was assigned to the command of the battalion, with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of the lamented Ridgely Brown. Major R. C. Smith, who had been permanently disabled in the fight at Greenland Gap, was retired, and the vacancy thus occasioned not afterwards filled.