On the morning of the 24th Ewell took up the line of march for Winchester, Jackson having moved on Strasburg the evening before. That night we encamped on the banks of the Opequon, six miles from our destination. Here we were ordered to cook some rations, and be ready to move at midnight upon Banks, whom we intended to attack at daylight.
Long before the sun had risen on the morning of the 25th, the commands of Jackson and Ewell were in line of battle about two miles from the town, the former to the left of the Valley turnpike, the latter joining him on the right. Skirmishers were thrown out, and cautiously, at early dawn, through the dense fog that prevailed, the Confederate line advanced.
In front of a portion of Ewell’s line the First Maryland was deployed, which, after proceeding a short distance, encountered the enemy’s skirmishers,who fell back at our approach. About the same time was heard the spattering of musketry in the direction of Jackson, which told us he, too, had them in his front.
The fog had now become so dense as to make it impossible to see twenty steps in any direction; and Colonel Johnson therefore thought it advisable to assemble his skirmish line, as we had entirely lost sight of our line of battle, and did not know but we might be enveloped by the enemy. Quietly the men were drawn in, and the regiment lay down in an orchard and concealed itself behind a board fence, to await the lifting of the fog.
For an hour everything was still as death, when, the fog rising somewhat, a column of the enemy was revealed lying behind a stone wall about three hundred yards in our front, with his right flank resting toward us, and totally unconscious of our close proximity. They were apparently intent on watching something before them; and presently, to our horror, there emerged from the fog the Twenty-First North Carolina regiment, marching directly upon the stone wall, and altogether ignorant of the ambuscade there awaiting. Scarcely two hundred yards separated them, and in a minute the poor fellows would be in the fatal trap. Like ourselves, they had become separated from the main body and lost their way; but, unlike ourselves, had failed to exercise the precaution to ascertain where they were before advancing.
There was nothing on earth we could do to warn them of their danger. Oh! it was a sad, sickening sight, to see them thus unconsciously marching straight into the jaws of death. On, on they go, and nearer and nearer they approach the treacherous fence, behind which they expect to shelter themselves. They are but forty yards from it.
“Can nothing be done for them?” I heard from more than one around me.
No; too late; too late; and the next instant the long line of blue rise from their cover; there is an instant’s pause, and then comes a deafening volley of musketry, and the deadly minnie by hundreds are sent tearing and crashing through the Confederate columns. The slaughter was appalling, and the survivors fled to the rear in the utmost confusion.
But they were avenged; for just then the gallant Griffin, of the Baltimore Light Artillery, espied them, and training the guns of his splendid battery upon the fence, he raked it from one end to the other, sending the enemy flying to a safer position nearer the town.
On the left Jackson was now hotly engaged, whilst, with the exception of his artillery, Ewell is unaccountably idle. Why could he not swing the right of his division around in the rear of the town, thereby enveloping the enemy and cutting off his retreat, whilst he at the same time attacked those who appeared only in front of his left, for there was no enemy on our right, and Jackson was more thana match for those with whom he was contending? No, he is awaiting orders from Jackson, as he afterwards did from Lee at Gettysburg, and the opportunity is lost.
The fog had now entirely disappeared, and on the hill’s side to the left of us were the contending forces of Jackson and Banks engaged in a desperate struggle. For an hour the fight raged, of which we were silent but unwilling spectators. At length Jackson’s reserves reached him, a little late, but in time, taking into consideration their long march from Strasburg that night, and he immediately prepared for a charge. The enemy was also hurrying forward reinforcements to resist the onset he knew was coming.
Dick Taylor’s and three Virginia brigades were thrown into position to make the charge; and it was a grand sight as, with a yell, they moved forward at the double quick.
“I shall wait for orders no longer, but will join in that charge if I live!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, quickly swinging himself into the saddle. “Forward, double quick,” was the command, and the next instant we were dashing across the country in the direction of the enemy.
Jackson’s right was not more than four hundred yards to the left of us, and therefore Johnson thought by moving diagonally and at a rapid pace we would join him almost at the instant he should strike the enemy.
Steadily, in the face of a deadly fire, the Confederate column advances, leaving in its wake scores of dead and wounded; but never halting, never hesitating, it hurls itself upon the enemy with irresistible fury, rending, tearing, and grinding them to pieces. Closely pursued the survivors fled towards Winchester, and pursued and pursuers entered the town simultaneously. The First Maryland passed down Loudoun street, and, pressing on, capturing prisoners at every step, did not halt until it reached the Taylor Hotel, opposite which we found two large storehouses on fire, filled with medical stores. Colonel Johnson quickly detached a portion of the regiment to suppress the flames, while he at the same time ordered a company to surround and search the hotel for the notorious Dave Strother, or “Porte Crayon,” who a citizen informed us was there. The flames were speedily extinguished, but fortunately for Strother he had been gone about five minutes, or I am inclined to think much of his “Personal Recollections” would have treated of Libby and Belle Isle.
In obedience to the orders of Banks the town had been set on fire in several places, and men and women were rushing frantically through the streets appealing to the troops to save them from the dreadful calamity that seemed so imminent. Their appeals were not in vain; and in a short time the flames were everywhere extinguished, except near the depot, where several large warehouses had been fired, and which were totally consumed withtheir contents. Had the troops of Jackson been one half hour later this ancient and once thriving town would have been only a mass of smouldering ruins.
The defeat of the enemy was complete; but owing to the apathy of Ewell and the wretched disposition of our cavalry very many of them effected their escape, carrying with them most of their artillery and a large wagon train. As it was, however, we captured an immense amount of stores of every description, and about four thousand prisoners.
The joy of the citizens of Winchester at once more having the protection of the Confederate troops, knew no bounds, and as we filed through the streets in pursuit of the enemy, provisions and delicacies in abundance were lavished upon us, while more than one of our young fellows came in for an earnest embrace from the matron of some well-grown household. Indeed, Colonel Johnson himself received one of these favors. Now, the Colonel was regarded one of the handsomest men in the First Maryland, and having dismounted from his horse in an unguarded moment, was espied and singled out by an old lady of Amazonian proportions, just from the wash tub, who, wiping her hands and mouth on her apron as she approached, seized him around the neck with the hug of a bruin, and bestowed upon him half a dozen kisses that were heard by nearly every man in the command; and when at length she relaxed her hold the Colonel looked as though he had just come out of a vapor bath.
“How do you like that, Colonel?” I heard Captain Willie Nicholas ask, who, convulsed with laughter, had been watching the performance.
Drawing forth his handkerchief and wiping from his face the profuse perspiration that covered it, the Colonel replied:
“I shouldn’t have cared; but, d—— it, she smells so strong of rosin soap, and I never could bear the stuff.”
That night the First Maryland went into camp close by the Winchester and Martinsburg turnpike, and about four miles from the former town. Upon the call of the roll but one man was found missing, Lieutenant Colonel Dorsey, who had been severely wounded through the right shoulder after entering the town.
On the morning of the 26th orders were received to move to Martinsburg, and there collect the large amount of stores abandoned by the enemy. Two or three days were consumed in this duty, after which we rejoined the main body of the army, encamped near Charlestown.
General Jackson’s movements since the battle of Winchester had much puzzled his troops, and entirely confounded the enemy.
“Surely,” we reasoned, “he is not going to cross over into Maryland with the handful of men under his command, for McDowell would quickly compel him to return, and then it would be too late to escape Fremont, who will certainly come down fromWest Virginia with his army of twenty-five thousand men.”
Our situation seemed a critical one; but then Jackson was with us, and with him nothing seemed impossible.
The day after our arrival at Charlestown General George H. Steuart was ordered to take the First Maryland and two batteries of artillery and attack the enemy’s camp on Bolivar Heights, while a small force was also directed to make a demonstration from the Shenandoah Heights upon Harper’s Ferry.
It now became apparent to all that the whole movement of Jackson from Winchester was a feint, but for what purpose we were entirely at a loss to conjecture. Little did we then dream of the splendid combinations General Lee had formed for the relief of Richmond, the principal moves in which had been intrusted to Jackson, the first of which he was executing.
Our batteries opened upon the enemy posted on Bolivar Heights about ten o’clock in the morning, and continued the fire without intermission until late in the afternoon, when his guns were silenced, and it became evident he had abandoned the heights. The infantry then crossed over and took possession of his camp, which was found entirely deserted. As soon as we were perceived the batteries upon the Maryland Heights and at Barber’s house opened their fire, without effect, however, and our object having been accomplished, after helping ourselvesto the bountiful meal we found on the fire, we retired, and went into camp near Halltown.
The next day found us retracing our steps to Winchester, everything betokening haste, but no confusion. It soon became known to us that Fremont was rapidly approaching Strasburg from Franklin, and that a force under Shields was moving to the same point to intercept Jackson should he attempt to escape down the Valley. It seemed almost impossible for us to get away, encumbered as we were with four thousand prisoners and over two thousand wagons, most of which were ladened with the spoils captured from Banks; but Jackson had calculated it all, and he knew what his troops could do.
All day long we toiled on, and at dusk the rear of the army (of which we were part) passed through Winchester; but with what different feelings and with what a different reception from that of a week before. Then it was amid the exultant shouts of the overjoyed citizens; now it was in sorrow and silence, for it was well known that the victorious army of yesterday was in full retreat to-day. Without a word the troops moved through the almost deserted streets, and all felt a relief when we once more reached the open country.
On, on, we pushed, through a drenching rain; and when at last, away in the night, exhausted, and unable to go farther, the men threw themselves down to rest upon the damp ground, it was found we had made thirty-six miles since morning.
CHAPTER VIII.
Hungry and but little refreshed, we resumed the march at daylight next morning. When six miles from Strasburg the sound of artillery in our front told us how narrow had been our escape. It was the gallant General Charlie Winder contesting a mountain pass with Fremont until the army, with its long train, should pass. We now felt comparatively safe, our greatest fear having been that Fremont would pass the defile before we could throw troops into it. Of Shields we had no fear, as our rapid marching had thrown him far in our rear, and he could not possibly overtake us. Fisher’s Hill was reached late that evening, and all danger being past, the men were allowed some time to rest.
Six miles more to make that night, and then we should be compelled to go supperless to bed: for the commissary wagon had stuck in the creek at Newtown, and we had but little doubt it had fallen into the hands of the enemy. It was all the fault of Commissary Captain John Howard, who would insist upon placing in it a barrel of whisky and three barrels of molasses, besides the regiment’s regular rations.
Tired and broken down from the excessive marching of the past few days, the men were but little disposed to go farther, and when the command to“fall in” was given it was but indifferently obeyed. The delay thereby occasioned was, however, productive of good results, for presently the sound of a wagon was heard approaching from the direction we had just come, and in a moment more the missing commissary wagon came in sight, in charge of private George Bush, of Company A. Colonel Johnson’s countenance underwent a wonderful change, as did that of every man in the regiment. Looking stern, however, he demanded to know of Bush “why he had been straggling?”
“Why you see, Colonel,” he replied, “my feet were kind o’ sore, and I couldn’t cotch up; so I seed this here wagon stuck in the mud, and knowd it belonged to us; and you see I knowd as you know what was in it, and so I says to myself, ‘Them ar Yanks shan’t have her;’ and so I confisticated that are team; but it couldn’t pull it nary inch. So you see, Colonel, as the crackers and meat wasn’t very heavy, but the whisky and merlasses wor, so you see, Colonel, there was no alternation but ter empty her out.”
“Empty her out, sir,” interrupted the Colonel, in a voice of thunder, and with a countenance black as midnight; “empty her out, you rascal? Why didn’t you save apartof the contents, at least?”
“And so I did, sir. The meat and crackers wor ondispensable; but you see, Colonel, them ere people about Newtown are mighty poor, and you know, sir, I always wor kind o’ good-hearted, and thenthem merlasses and the barrel of whisky wor so tarnal heavy”—
“And you gave them the whisky and the molasses?” roared the Colonel.
“Now, Colonel,” said Bush, “you must really excuse me this time if I gave them all”—
“All?” interrupted the Colonel.
“Yes, sir; all thesuperfluity but the barrel of whisky.”
“Bush, you are a bad soldier,” said the Colonel, “and shall have a week’s extra guard duty for wasting ‘them merlasses,’ as you call it, though, under the circumstances, I might have done the same. But it won’t do to encourage such extravagance in a well-disciplined command. Captain Howard, knock the bung out of that barrel and give each of the men a stiff drink, while you will take care and reserve an extra one for the officers.”
It is needless to say the order was obeyed with alacrity, and the six miles were made in quick time to the song of “Oh, let us be joyful!”
Our camp that night was about midway between Strasburg and Woodstock. At midnight we were awakened from our sound slumbers by the rattle of small arms in the direction of the former place, and shortly after a broken and disordered mass of cavalry came dashing into our camp, riding everything down that came in their way, and yelling at the top of their voices that the enemy was upon us.
Convinced that we were in more danger of bodilyharm from the cowardly cavalrymen than from the enemy, we turned outen masseand drove them from the ground, and the last we saw of them they were making their way at the top of their horses’ speed towards Woodstock. It afterwards turned out that they had encountered a number of the broken down men, and mistaking each other for enemies, in the dark, a fight had ensued, in which the cavalrymen were routed.
Early next morning we resumed our march, the First Maryland being in the rear of the infantry, with orders to support the cavalry and artillery under Generals George H. Steuart and Turner Ashby, who were keeping the enemy’s advance in check.
When within a mile or two of Woodstock, Fremont’s cavalry, under Colonel Percy Wyndham, dashed upon the cavalry under Stewart and scattered it in every direction. It was in vain that gallant officer endeavored to rally the frightened troopers; but the harder he swore the faster they rode, until they came upon the First Maryland in the streets of Woodstock.
“Get out of the way! get out of the way! the enemy are upon you!” they called out at the top of their voices, as they dashed madly through the town.
But Colonel Johnson, not understanding such tactics, coolly wheeled his regiment across the street, and, charging them with the bayonet, drove them back in the direction from whence they came. Somewere rallied by the General, who had by this time come up; but the majority took to the fields, and made good their escape from both friends and foes.
In this disgraceful affair we came near losing two pieces of the Baltimore Light Artillery. Entirely deserted by the cavalry supporting them, they were at the mercy of the enemy; but the brave Griffin, although surrounded, drove his guns through their ranks, and bore his pieces off in triumph.
These skirmishes were of daily occurrence as the Confederate army marched leisurely in the direction of Staunton. By burning bridges along our route we were enabled to retard the enemy’s advance, and by easy marches to rest and refresh our men and keep the wagon train and prisoners well up.
Finally, in the afternoon of the 5th of June, the army reached Harrisonburg, where we received intelligence that made the stoutest of us tremble. The turnpike bridge across the Shenandoah had been destroyed, and having no pontoons it was impossible to cross as the stream was very high and rapid.
Any other man but Jackson would have given up in despair, and we should have been lost. Not so with him. There was still another bridge that spanned the river at Port Republic, and thither he determined to march, over roads indescribable. Diverging to the left, therefore, about a mile from Harrisonburg, he took the road to Port Republic,and, after marching a mile or two, went into camp for the night, the enemy occupying Harrisonburg.
The next morning, the 6th day of June,—a day that will ever be remembered by us—the enemy’s videttes were within rifle-shot upon the hills behind us. He was following us closely; and it was evident we would be compelled to fight before reaching the river. Slowly we retired, the enemy as slowly following.
In this way we marched about four miles, when Ashby, in command of the rear guard, determined to give his persistent foe a little turn up. Placing his men in the woods by the side of the road he quietly awaited the attack. Catching sight of the man he had for days been endeavoring to “bag,” the dashing Wyndham charged at the head of his New Jersey troops; but, alas! he had reckoned without his host, for a counter charge ordered by the brave Ashby, and made with irresistible impetuosity, overthrew Wyndham, and scattered his Jersey Blues to the four winds. The pursuit was continued until Ashby was nearly up with their advanced infantry, the Pennsylvania Bucktails, who were encamped about two miles from Harrisonburg. Gathering up his prisoners, among whom was Wyndham himself, he fell back to the infantry, determined upon attacking this body, for he deemed their capture an easy matter. Alas! it was a sad, sad mistake, and cost many valuable lives, and among them the incomparable Ashby himself.
Contrary to his own judgment, General Ewell yielded to General Ashby’s earnest solicitations, and furnished him with three regiments of infantry with which to attack and surprise the enemy’s advance. The regiments selected for the work were the First Maryland and Fifty-Eighth and Forty-Fourth Virginia. So fearful was General Ewell that some disaster would befall the expedition that he accompanied it himself. The troops moved with the utmost caution through the dense woods for about three miles, when they were halted, and the companies of Captains Herbert and Nicholas thrown forward as skirmishers. These were under the command of Ashby, closely followed by the main body under command of Ewell. In a few minutes the rattle of musketry in our front told us that the enemy had been found, and the Fifty-Eighth was immediately sent in, when the fight became very severe, the contending forces not being over fifty yards apart. For about fifteen minutes the conflict continued, when the Fifty-Eighth broke and came to the rear in great confusion. The Forty-Fourth was then sent forward, and appeared to be faring but little better, when General Ewell, who had been in the thickest of the fight and exposed to much danger, dashed up to Colonel Johnson and called out, “Charge, Colonel, charge, and end this matter!” For some minutes we had been suffering from the enemy’s fire, and the order was therefore gladly obeyed. Steadily the regiment movedthrough the woods to the attack, guided by the firing, for not one of the foemen could be seen. At length, feeling that he was within striking distance, Johnson gave the command, “Forward, double quick,” and with a yell our fellows dashed up the hill which shielded the enemy from our view; but, as we gained its crest, a terrible volley was poured into our very faces, and the regiment reeled and staggered, for Johnson was down struggling to disengage himself from his dying horse, and some twenty of the officers and men had fallen. The pause was but momentary, however, for collecting themselves the brave fellows rushed furiously upon the enemy, and, reserving their fire until they were within twenty paces of them, poured into their ranks so destructive a volley that the survivors broke and attempted to reach their main body. In this but few succeeded, as they were compelled to recross an open field, about four hundred yards wide, and all the while subjected to our fire, which was delivered with the utmost coolness and precision.
Our loss in this unfortunate fight was severe, for besides the many brave officers and men in the three little regiments, we had to mourn the death of the chivalrous Ashby, the idol of the army. Early in the conflict, while urging his men forward, and exposing himself most recklessly, a ball passed through his body, and he fell dead.
Brig. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON.
Brig. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON.
Brig. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON.
When the news of the death of this Christian gentleman and glorious soldier became known to the army, a universal wail went up, and strong men wept like children, for truly they had lost one they dearly loved. Never more was his clarion voice to be heard as he led his fierce legions in the headlong charge. Never more the piercing gray eye to sparkle as he dashed with lightning speed through the ranks of the foemen, dealing death blows at every stride, avenging his people’s wrongs and the death of a basely-murdered brother.
The First Maryland had many of its noblest spirits to mourn for, and among them the gallant Captain N. S. Robertson, Lieutenant Nicholas Snowden, and privates Beatty, Schleigh, Harris, and others whose names I do not remember. The loss of the enemy was very severe. Their commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, with several of his officers and many of the men were wounded and prisoners in our hands, and, to use Kane’s own words, “hardly a dozen of the command escaped.”
Sadly, as the dusk of evening came on, we gathered together our dead, and the wounded of both sides who could bear removal, and mournfully retraced our steps, and near midnight lay down to rest beside our cold, inanimate companions.
As we lay there we could not but think how many of us would in a few hours be with them, sleeping our last sleep; and the next morning, as we listened to the reveille, we thought it might be our last, for our dead comrades had heard it but yesterday. Such is the uncertainty of a soldier’s life.
In a little churchyard attached to Union Church, near Cross Keys, we dug the one grave that was to contain all that was left of them, and in their uniforms, wrapt in their blankets, we lay them down to rest. Theirs was the burial they would have most wished—a soldier’s burial.