The Maryland Line in the Confederate States Army.

by W. W. Goldsborough

After Colonel Dorsey’s accession to the command, the campaign was constantly active, and the enemy being nearly as strong in cavalry alone as General Early was in troops of all arms, his cavalry was compelled to contend with great odds. Fights and skirmishes of a greater or less magnitude were of daily and almost hourly occurrence, and with the picket duty to be performed, men and horses were, employed to the utmost limit of endurance. In most of these engagements the Confederates were successful, but in one of them, at Fisher’s Hill, on the 22d of September, the enemy gained considerable advantage by suddenly throwing a heavy force, consisting of two or three divisions, which he had moved up under cover of the North Mountains on Early’s left, upon the line of dismounted cavalry, which was all that General could spare to cover that point. Here, after they had broken the Confederate line, Colonel Dorsey ordered the First Maryland to charge, with the view to check the enemy, if possible, and gain time to bring up reinforcements, but it only availed to release some prisoners and to get the horses of the dismounted men out of the way. In the face of such odds, Dorsey was forced back with some loss, and although severely wounded himself, extricated his command, and made an orderly retreat.

CHAPTER IX.

The campaign of ’64 in the Valley of Virginia was marked by acts of barbarism and savage cruelty on the part of the enemy, such as history scarcely parallels; but certainly not in the annals of any nation making the least pretense to civilization. In years past, the American heart was wont to burn with righteous indignation at the recital of the wrongs of Poland and Hungary; but then Russia and Austria were but in their rudiments. It was reserved for the “best government the world ever saw” to reduce barbarity to a science, to substitute the torch for the sword, murder for honorable warfare, and to elevate the incendiary’s crime to the dignity of national policy. Having failed to subdue the men of the Southern Confederacy in the field, the soldiers of the Federal army, with such vast odds in their favor, of numbers and resources, with the whole world open to them, and contributing immensely both of men and means—the Federal soldiers, with all these advantages, descended to make mean war upon women and children and dumb brutes, seeking in the sufferings of these helpless victims the victory elsewhere denied them, and thus to strike their foe whom they dared not meet in fair conflict.

An official, high in rank in that army, and at this writing high in position under that Government, wrote that the Valley should be so devastated “that a crow flying over would be obliged to take its rations.” And faithful and vigorous were the efforts made to carry out that policy. The Vandals, whose name has become a synonym for ferocious cruelty, were accustomed to spare the ungarnered crops not required for their own maintenance; but by official orders from army headquarters, Sheridan’s army in the Valley of Virginia obscured the light of day, and illuminated the darkness of night, with the smoke and flames of the conflagration that devoured alike the dwelling and the stable, the barn and the mill, stored with hay and grain, and the yet ungathered crop standing on the ground. Whole fields of corn were wantonly fired in the shock, and in many instances horses and cattle in their stalls, and swine in their pens, were heartlessly burned alive. For two weeks and more did their fires fiercely burn, while the brave officers commanding this corps of murderers and incendiaries made report of their noble achievements, and the Yankee nation applauded. It was rebels, rebels against this most beneficent Government, who suffered, and in their pangs was offered a sacrifice holy and acceptable on the altar of Freedom. Truly Vandalism should be expunged from our vocabulary, and Yankeeism written instead.

General Hunter, whose chief monument was the smoke from the Virginia Military Institute, and the private dwellings burned by his order, had the honor of inaugurating this system of warfare in the Valley, which was afterwards so fully adopted and elaborately carried out by the Yankee Government.

All these brutal wrongs the First Maryland cavalry witnessed, and where powerless to prevent, they did not forget to avenge where opportunity offered.

Other wrongs they had to remember and avenge, such as their whole prior experience had never before known—the cold-blooded murder of their comrades.

In October, 1864, Churchill Crittenden and John Hartigan, privates of company C, were detailed to procure provisions for their company, which could only be obtained from the neighboring farm houses. The regiment was lying then in Page county, and as the country between the two armies had not been foraged so closely of its supplies, because of its being a middle ground, these two men, so detailed, sought the required rations between the two lines. Whilst getting their supplies at a farm house, a large scouting party of the enemy came suddenly upon them. They attempted to escape, and a running fight ensued, which resulted in the death of two or three of the enemy and the wounding of Crittenden severely, and the capture of both himself and Hartigan.

The prisoners were taken back two or three miles, and there by order of General Powell, then commanding Averill’s old brigade, shot in cold blood, denying them the poor privilege of writing to their friends, though Hartigan, particularly, who had a young and lovely wife, earnestly entreated with his last breath to be allowed to send her a message.

These facts were all carefully traced out, and verified by the statement of the citizen at whose house the two men were first attacked, and near which they fought and were captured; by the statement of the citizen, some two miles to the rear, near whose house they were buried, not by the assassins, but by the pitying farmer; and by the evidence rendered by the opened graves of the poor murdered men.