That night the troops slept upon their arms, prepared to resume hostilities or repel an attack at a moment’s notice. Colonel Herbert and myself selected a spot somewhat retired from the main body, and, after picketing the horses, laid ourselves down to sleep. To sleep, did I say? To rest I should have said, for it was many hours ere I closed my eyes in sleep. A thousand recollections of the past presented themselves. I thought of home and the loved ones there; of many incidents attending the two eventful years of carnage and bloodshed through which I had been spared where so many died. Truly God had been merciful, and I offered up a silent prayer that I might survive the fight of the coming morrow. And then I thought of the hundreds around me who were taking their last sleep save that which knows no waking; of those in dream, dreaming of their once happy homes, of wives and children, of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and sweethearts, but to awake in the morning only to the dread reality.
At early dawn I arose from my blanket hungry and unrefreshed. The Colonel appeared in the same condition, for after rubbing his eyes and looking around him for a minute he broke forth with:
“Why in the devil didn’t you think of making old man Sheeley give you some of the cooked provisions out of the mess chest? Now the wagons are the Lord knows where, and here we are sucking our thumbs to appease hunger. I can go twenty-four hours without eating, but darned if I like it to be an hour over that time.”
“And pray, sir, why didn’tyouask Mr. Sheeley for some of the provisions in the mess chest?” I inquired.
“Because I didn’t think of it.”
“And neither did I; but if you will promise to say nothing more about Sheeley and the mess chest I will introduce you to a little private arrangement of my own.”
The Colonel looked up inquiringly for a moment, and although he said nothing, I could plainly read in his countenance “Oh do.”
At the battle of Winchester, some weeks previous, I secured a number of large sized boxes of sardines, all of which I had given away, save one. This I had in my saddle pocket, along with a small flask of brandy that I procured as we passed through Greenvillage. I had kept it a secret, for on the march you have plenty of visitors if you are known to possess a flask of liquor. Here was an emergency,however, and it was for an emergency I had saved it. The flask and sardines were speedily produced, and for the first time in twenty-four hours I saw the Colonel smile. And then he took the cork out of the flask, threw back his head andsmiledagain, and, as he lowered the uplifted arm, I discovered considerable daylight through the bottle he had smiled at. Ahem, like master like man, and I followed his example. Then the sardines were discussed, and we grew amiably disposed, and we talked and talked about—everybody and everything but Sheeley and his mess chest.
The morning wore away and there were no evidences of a renewal of hostilities. About ten o’clock, General Johnson requested me to make a reconnoissance from a hill about three-quarters of a mile in our front. Being perfectly familiar with the country, having hunted over almost every foot of it in my youth, I put spurs to my gallant sorrel, and, making a detour to the right, I after a few minutes rapid riding reached its summit. Here screened from the enemy’s view by an undergrowth of cherry trees, I witnessed a sight I shall ever remember. In front of me, distant about half a mile, was the long ridge leading to cemetery heights, and then cemetery heights themselves. This ridge and the heights were crowned with innumerable batteries of artillery, and immediately in rear of them a long dark mass of infantry, their bayonets glittering in the sun. I was on the ridgewhich separated the contending armies, and never before upon the eve of battle was I so struck with the advantages one army had over the other in point of position, save at Fredericksburg. In fact the thing was about reversed except in the numbers of assailants. It was almost impossible for us to find position for a single battery on our left or in our centre. The spot upon which I stood was the only one in front of Johnson, and a battery could hardly live here an hour, as was demonstrated that day. For at least twenty minutes I gazed upon the opposite heights, where all seemed life and animation, and then turned my horse’s head and galloped back to where I had left the General, and to whom I made my report. As the coast was clear, in company with Major Latimer, his chief of artillery, he proceeded to the hill, and shortly after ordered up two batteries of artillery, one the Chesapeake artillery, under command of the lamented Captain Brown, of Baltimore.
During the afternoon Colonel Herbert proposed we should visit General Walker, of the Stonewall Brigade, which was in position a short distance to our left, and if possible procure something to eat, as we were suffering very much from hunger, having partaken of no food except the sardines since the morning of the day before. We found the General in pretty much the same predicament, but his Adjutant-General very kindly furnished us with two biscuits apiece, which were thankfully accepted.In the course of the conversation which ensued, mutual surprise was expressed that the attack had not been renewed.
“However,” said Walker, “it is not too late; and I think it possible it will yet be made before nightfall.”
Now these late-in-the-evening fights are the most disagreeable things imaginable, as will readily be conceded by all who have participated in them, and I sincerely hoped the General’s prediction would not be verified. In the first place, you are as liable to shoot and be shot by friend as by foe. Moreover, the inextricable confusion inevitable is unpleasant, for you are more likely to get into the enemy’s lines than keep in your own, and I saw many instances of it that night.
While we were conversing, some of the pickets brought in a prisoner, an ill-favored, brutal looking Dutchman, who had been pounced upon while out foraging. The fellow appeared relieved at the idea of escaping the fight, for drawing a long breath he said:
“Ich been feel mooch besser; I like not mooch fight.”
Upon our inquiring why Hooker had been superceded by Meade, he replied:
“Vat for he let der Lee in Pennsylvany coom?”
The prisoner could not or would not give us any information upon many points we questioned him. He only knew that he belonged to a “Pennsylvany”regiment in the “Oonan” army. So much and no more could his intelligent mind comprehend.
“It is too bad,” exclaimed “Walker, rather excitedly, “to think that such men as we have around us should be butchered by the miserable mercenary devils of which this is a fair specimen. Sometimes I am half inclined to show the wretches no quarter. Take the creature to the rear.”
Expressing a mutual wish that fortune would favor us in the coming fight, we separated, not to meet again for many months.
Soon after reaching the battalion Capt. W. H. Murray, of whom I have before spoken in this narrative and of whom I have yet to speak, joined us. He was one of my dearest friends, and his was a friendship I was proud to boast. With Colonel Herbert we had started out early in ’61 as privates in the First Maryland; arose to the rank of Captain almost simultaneously; first saw fighting at the battle of Manassas; and had together participated in most of the battles fought by the Army of Northern Virginia from that time to this. A thorough disciplinarian, brave as a lion, calm and collected amid the roar of artillery, the rattle of musketry, and the carnage of battle, I regarded him as one of the very best officers I ever saw. By his men he was almost idolized, whilst by the battalion he was universally beloved. The companies he commanded in the First and Second Infantry were model ones, and I question whether throughout the whole ConfederateArmy two such could have been found. As an evidence of their discipline and fighting qualities, and the tenacity and desperation with which they stood to their work at Gettysburg, I would state that out of ninety-eight men that he took into the fight, but thirty-one reported after the battle.
“Anything to be done to-day?” was his inquiry as he took a seat by our side.
“General Walker seems to think so,” was Col. Herbert’s response; “but his opinion is based upon no positive information. This long silence betokens a dreadful battle when it does commence, and I am getting tired of the suspense. By-the-by, Captain, now you know perfectly well that I am not at all superstitious, but I’ll be hanged if I havn’t a presentment that I am to be hit in this affair. You and myself have escaped so far without a scratch, but we won’t this time, mark my words. With G. there it has become so common a thing that nothing else is to be expected.”
“And for that very reason I shall escape,” said I. “You know the old saying that ‘it is a long lane that has no turning;’ well I think I am around the bend, whilst you two have not yet commenced the trip.”
“There it comes,” exclaimed Murray, suddenly springing to his feet as the sound of a single piece of artillery was wafted to us on the evening’s breeze from away down to our right. “And there, andthere, and there!” as three more distinct discharges were heard.
For a moment all was still as death. Not a sound to break the same quiet that had preceded the four explosions. It was but a moment, however, for these were Lee’s signal guns to commence the battle, and the thunder of two hundred pieces of artillery burst forth from our lines. The enemy replied with as many more, and the earth shook and trembled as though riven by an earthquake. The air was filled with exploding, crashing, screaming shells. “Lay down!” is the command, and every man was flat on his face.
Perhaps nothing in battle is so trying to an infantryman’s nerves and patience as the preliminary artillery fire that precedes it; and the same effect is produced upon the artilleryman by the whistle of the minnie ball; although the destruction of human life by musketry is at least five hundred per cent. greater than by artillery; and an old soldier will contend a battle has not fairly begun until he hears the rattle of small arms, when he will exclaim to the recruit: “Now somebody is getting hurt; all this thunder was only for its effects.”
The brigade on our right being in a more direct line with the shots fired at the batteries of Latimer on the hill in front, begin to suffer severely, and the litter bearers are busily engaged carrying off the wounded. Latimer is working his guns savagely, but is being terribly handled, for three times his number of gunsare concentrated upon the two little batteries, rending and tearing him to pieces. Caisson after caisson shoot high up in the air as they are exploded by the enemy’s shells.
“He can’t stand that pounding much longer,” remarked the Colonel; “and for all the execution he is doing I wish General Johnson would order him away. Here comes a litter from that direction with a wounded man. Let us see who it is.”
Approaching the sufferer we were shocked to behold the familiar features of the chivalrous Captain Wm. Brown, of the Chesapeake Artillery. His face was pale as death, and although both legs had been horribly shattered by a cannon ball, he smiled as he recognized us. Turning to Captain Torsch, he said in a weak voice:
“Captain, if you should get home, tell my poor old father I died endeavoring to do my duty.”
“We are making out badly up there,” said one of the litter bearers. “Major Latimer has been carried from the field mortally wounded; and if kept on that hill much longer more of us will be likely to follow him!”
For at least two hours this awful fire continued without a moment’s cessation, when aids were seen dashing furiously down the long line of infantry on our right, who spring to their feet as they pass, and were at once in motion.
“Mount your horse quickly,” said the Colonel, “for we are going in;” and the next instant, in aclear, distinct voice, heard even above the din of battle, he gave the command, “Forward, guide centre!” and the gallant sons of Maryland commenced their march to defeat and death.
Preceded by a cloud of skirmishers, steadily the long line in grey advanced across the Hanover road, and entered the woods before them. We found the ground here very uneven, and covered with immense rocks, which necessitated the dismounting of field and staff officers, and the horses were sent to the rear. We passed over more than a mile of this country before our skirmishers encountered those of the enemy upon the banks of Rock creek. A sharp fight ensued, but our gallant fellows dashed across the creek, which was waist deep, and put them to flight. The order was then given by some one for the skirmishers to join the main body. The disastrous consequences that followed this order will be presently seen.
We were rapidly approaching Culp’s Hill through one of the densest woods I ever passed. Darkness was upon us, and nothing could be seen save the flash of an occasional musket in our front. More and more difficult became the ascent, but over every obstacle pressed the devoted division. Not a shot was now heard, and the woods seemed inhabited but by ourselves. What has become of the enemy? In an instant the question is answered, as the heavens are lighted up by the flash of thousands of muskets, and the deadly Minnie tear and rend ourranks fearfully. The column reeled and staggered like a drunken man. To add to the horrors of the situation, a fire was also opened upon us in rear by a body of our own troops, who receiving some of the bullets that escaped us mistook us for the enemy. Men fell like autumn leaves; but the brave fellows disdained to retreat. The enemy’s fire was returned, though with little effect, as they were protected by their breastworks. No command could be heard above the infernal din. What was to be done? To stand there was certain death, and therefore, why not sell our lives dearly as possible? At this moment the heroic Walton approached me and asked “what on earth shall we do?”
“As I am not in command of the battalion, I can do nothing,” was my reply.
“Well, I shan’t wait for orders any longer, but will charge the works if I lose every man in my regiment. Take the responsibility and charge with your left at the same time.”
“I’ll do it,” was my response, and hastily detaching the companies of Captains Torsch, Stewart and Crane, with Walton, dashed at the breastworks, cleared them in a moment, with the loss of but three men, and instantly wheeling to the right opened a destructive, enfilading fire upon the enemy who still remained in the breastworks, which compelled them to fall back to Culp’s Hill.
On our right Nicholl’s brigade of Louisianians had not been so successful, and there the fight stillraged. 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 theirmuskets, 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 notknow, 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.
The right of the battalion, where were stationedcompanies A and C, under the command of Captain Murray and Lieutenant Charles Hodges respectively, were exposed to the severest part of the fire, and suffered in greater proportion than the others. Until nearly eight o’clock this dreadful storm of bullets continued to sweep over and around us without the slightest abatement. All along our line wounded men were lying bleeding to death, as it was impossible to remove them to the surgeon’s quarters after they were struck. Feeling anxious to know how the right fared, I cautiously made my way there, and sheltered myself behind a rock where were Colonel Parseley and Captain Murray. I inquired of Parseley if he had suffered much.
“Very much indeed. I have but thirteen men left. And now I have but twelve!” he exclaimed in the same breath, as one of his men fell over dead in Captain Murray’s lap, shot through the head.
I heard the words but imperfectly, for the same ball struck me full in the forehead and knocked me almost senseless; but its force was spent, and an ugly bump was the only result.
“Take care there, Sergeant Blackistone, you are exposing yourself too much,” I shortly after remarked to the orderly of Company A, and even as I spoke a ball passed through his arm, lacerating it badly. Poor fellow, it was his first and last wound, for he died shortly after in the hospital at Frederick, where he was held a prisoner.
“My men are out of ammunition, sir,” saidCaptain Murray; “and with your permission, I will withdraw them to the cover of those rocks on the left for half an hour—or a less time should you need me—and get some water and replenish their cartridge boxes. I have suffered fearfully, sir, and the men are somewhat dispirited.”
I suggested it would be a dangerous undertaking, but with great caution the point might be made.
Gradually they worked their way down the line, and reached the shelter in safety, and another company was ordered to take their place.
As I returned, the commanders of companies informed me that their ammunition was also exhausted. The difficulty was to get it, as none was within half a mile, and it was almost certain death to leave the shelter of the breastworks. I reported the matter, however, to General Steuart, whom I found sitting with his staff behind an immense rock, and he told me I had better call for volunteers.
“General, do not ask one of your officers or privates to volunteer to perform this duty whilst you have a staff officer left. I will bring the ammunition, if I live!”
Words that should be written in letters of gold, and they fell from the lips of Lieutenant Randolph McKim, one of the General’s aids. The noble fellow made the venture, and succeeded in his mission.
It was about half an hour after the above, thatCaptain George Williamson (Adjutant-General of the brigade, and one of the bravest men that ever trod a battle-field,) directed me to move my command by the left flank, file to the right at a given point, and form line of battle under cover of a woods, and as close as possible to its edge, without attracting the attention of the enemy, and that the rest of the brigade would form on my right and left.
I divined the object of the move instantly, and told the Captain “I considered it murder, and therefore would take my men in under protest.”
“The General has expressed the same opinion, sir; but the order comes from one higher than he, and is peremptory,” was his reply.
Sending for Captain Murray to join the command, the devoted little brigade—already reduced to about nine hundred men—made their way slowly, sometimes crawling, to the spot where they were to be senselessly slaughtered. Nine hundred brave men to storm a mountain, and upon whose sides bristled the bayonets of ten thousand foemen, and artillery innumerable. Some one’s hands are stained with the blood of these gallant men, and God will mete out fearful retribution in the world to come.
We were now within less than two hundred yards of the enemy, with an open field in front, over which we were to charge.
“Captain Murray, you will take command of the right,” were my last words to one of the noblest of men.
Slowly I moved down the column, with feelings I had never before experienced on the battle-field, for I felt I had but a minute more to live; and as I gazed into the faces of both officers and men, I could see the same feeling expressed, for all were alike aware of their danger. But no coward’s glance met mine. There was no craven in those ranks.Theyhad sneaked to the rear the day before. But the compressed lip, the stern brow, the glittering eye, told that those before me would fight to the last. Reaching my post, I looked up the line, and there stood the brave Steuart, calmly waiting for the troops to get in position.
“Fix bayonets,” was the command, quietly given; and the last act in this bloody drama was about to be enacted. It was a dreadful moment. But one brief second of life yet left! The sword of the General is raised on high! “Forward, double-quick!” rings out in clarion tones, and the race to meet death commenced. The fated brigade emerged from the woods into the open plain, and here—oh God! what a fire greeted us, and the death-shriek rends the air on every side! But on the gallant survivors pressed, closing up the dreadful gaps as fast as they were made. At this moment I felt a violent shock, and found myself instantly stretched upon the ground. I had experienced the feeling before, and knew what it meant, but to save me I could not tell where I was struck. In the excitement I felt not the pain; and restingupon my elbow, anxiously watched that struggling column. Column, did I say? A column no longer, but the torn and shattered fragments of one. But flesh and blood could not live in such a fire; and a handful of survivors of what had been a little more than twelve hours before the pride and boast of the army, sought to reach the cover of the woods.
But that merciless storm of bullets pursued them, and many more were stricken down. Among those who escaped, with a slight wound, was Adjutant Winder Laird, who, as he passed where I lay, caught me up and carried me to the shelter of the woods.
Faint and sick from the loss of blood, I fell into a stupor, from which I was aroused by the voice of Lieutenant Thomas Tolson.
“Can I do anything for you sir?” he kindly inquired.
“Tell Captain Murray to take command of what remains of the battalion,” I directed.
“Alas, sir, Captain Murray has fought his last fight; he fell dead, close to my side, late in the charge,” he answered.
Colonel Herbert’s prophecy was fulfilled.
The command of the battalion now devolved upon Captain Crane, who, with little difficulty, rallied the survivors, and from the breastworks we had occupied, still maintained the fight. Borne back at length, by overwhelming numbers, this little band of heroes sullenly retired, stubbornly contesting every foot of ground until they reached Rock creek, where they took a stand, from which the utmost efforts of the enemy failed to dislodge them.
Capt. WM. H. MURRAY.
Capt. WM. H. MURRAY.
Capt. WM. H. MURRAY.
Darkness put an end to the conflict, and the exhausted troops threw themselves upon the ground to snatch a few moments’ sleep. But human endurance was yet to be taxed to a greater degree before allowed to seek that rest and repose it so much needed, for that night General Lee had determined to retire from Gettysburg, and recross the Potomac.
Such was the part taken by the Second Maryland in the great and bloody battle of Gettysburg, and although it brought mourning and sorrow into many families in that glorious old State, still it had better a thousand times been that than the blush of shame for a son’s recreancy.
The casualties were frightful indeed; and it became necessary to leave the severely wounded in the hands of the enemy, among the number Colonel Herbert, Major Goldsborough, Lieutenant Joseph Barber, (who died a few days after) and Lieutenant Wilson. Captains Stewart and Gwynn, and Lieutenants Thomas, Tolson and Broadfoot, although severely wounded, succeeded in getting away, the latter, however, died at Martinsburg soon after reaching that place.
Of the officers and men who escaped unhurt, but two hundred reported after the battle, out of five hundred that went into the fight. I annex a list of the casualties, which will be found pretty nearly correct:
Field and Staff.—Killed, none; wounded, Lieutenant-Colonel James R. Herbert, seriously; Major W. W. Goldsborough, seriously.
Company A, Captain Wm. H. Murray.—Killed, Captain Wm. H. Murray; privates, John W. Hardesty, Wm. Bruce, T. Lloyd, James Iglehart, Jr., Arthur Kennedy, George W. McIntyre, Wilbur Morrison, Harman Nicalai, Henry A. McCormick, George C. Starlings, John H. Windolph; wounded, First Lieutenant George Thomas, severely; First Sergeant Wm. J. Blackiston, severely; Sergeant James H. Thomas, severely; Corporal Charles E. Maguire, severely; privates, John Bond, slightly; Philip Barry, slightly; Wm. H. Bowly, mortally; Charles S. Braddock, slightly; James E. Carey, slightly; Wm. S. J. Chandler, mortally; Moses Clayville, severely; Jacob N. Davis, severely; Wm. J. Edelin, slightly; Barnard Freeman, severely; Alex. Fulton, slightly; Wm. F. Gardiner, severely; Samuel T. Glenn, slightly; Motley Hanson, slightly; Samuel J. Hopkins, severely; D. Ridgely Howard, slightly; Leonard W. Ives, mortally; W. T. V. Loane, slightly; W. S. Lowe, severely; John Marney, dangerously; Philip Pindell, mortally; Frank H. Sanderson, mortally; A. J. Sollers, slightly; Charles H. Stale, severely; Wm. T. Thelin, severely; Charles M. Trail, severely; Andrew C. Trippe, severely; John P. Williams, dangerously; Jacob E. Zollinger, severely; Wm. H. Laird, slightly; Craig Lake, severely;Lamar Holliday, dangerously; Wallace Bowling, severely; Thomas B. Bowling, severely; J. A. Klimkiewiez, severely; captured, H. Tillard Smith, James A. Peregoy, Albert Emery, Bernard Hubball, David H. Lucchesi.
Company B, Captain J. Parran Crane.—Killed, Sergeant Thomas S. Freeman; private Warren F. Moore; wounded, Second Lieutenant James H. Wilson, severely; Sergeant Z. Francis Freeman, slightly; Corporal George Hayden, mortally; Corporal Thomas Simms, severely; Corporal Thomas F. Wheatley, slightly; privates, James P. Alnez, severely; John H. Chunn, slightly; Edgar Combs, slightly; Thomas J. Delogier, seriously; Albert Fenwick, slightly; Henry Ford, slightly; John A. Hayden, severely; James B. Keech, severely; Thomas Magill, slightly; Joseph H. Milstread, slightly; Wm. H. Simms, severely; Wm. L. Turner, slightly; Henry Turner, severely; James K. Webster, dangerously; John W. Wills, severely; James H. Wills, severely.
Company C, First Lieutenant Charles W. Hodges commanding.—Killed, First Sergeant Robert H. Cushing; privates, Samuel Duvall, Michael Davis, Jeremiah Dulaney, Bernard Kenney, Benjamin L. Lanham, James McWilliams, John T. O’Byrn, Benjamin Payne; wounded, Second Lieutenant Joseph W. Barber, mortally; Second Lieutenant Thomas H. Tolson, slightly; Sergeant George Probst, severely; Corporals Beale D. Hamilton,mortally; James A. Lawson, mortally; privates, Samuel Anderson, mortally; Robert H. Clough, slightly; Tobias Duvall, seriously; Thomas Edgar, mortally; Samuel H. Hamilton, slightly; Edgar Hammond, mortally; Charles Hammond, slightly; John McGwinn, severely; Wm. V. McCann, seriously; James Nash, mortally; Wm. L. Nichols, mortally; Frank R. Steele, severely; Wm. H. Skinner, slightly; Wm. H. Shipley, severely; John G. White, slightly; captured, Corporal Edward A. Welch; privates, Robert M. Dawson, Walter Mullikin, Francis E. Storm, Justus Schutz.
Company D, Captain Joseph L. McAleer.—Killed, privates, James A. Brown, Cornelius Keron; wounded, Sergeant Wm. Jenkins, slightly; Corporals Joshua Owings, mortally; Emmett M. Webb, mortally; privates, Lewis Green, severely; Richard G. Killman, slightly; John Hayes, slightly; Philip Lipscomb, slightly; John H. Septer, severely; Wm. Watts, slightly; James H. O’Brien, severely; Thomas J. Hines, seriously; captured, privates Wm. Hogarthy, John Lamb.
Company E, Captain John W. Torsch.—Killed, none. Wounded, First Lieutenant Wm. J. Broadfoot, mortally; Sergeant P. M. Moore, mortally; Corporals, John Cain, slightly; James Reddie, severely; privates, Michael Barry, severely; Charles E. Byus, severely; John Brown, severely; Alex. Brandt, slightly; James Fallon, slightly; Edward Fallis, severely; Stephen Helbig, severely; JamesLamates, severely; Daniel McGee, slightly; John N. Martin, slightly; Wm. P. Moran, severely; Frank Roberts, severely; Herman Radecke, severely; John Sullivan, severely; Wm. Wilkinson, slightly. Captured, Michael Burke.
Company F, Captain Andrew J. Gwynn.—Killed, Henry G. Taylor; wounded, Captain Andrew J. Gwynn, slightly; Second Lieutenant John G. Hyland, slightly; First Sergeant Nicholas J. Mills, severely; Sergeant Joseph S. Wagner, severely; privates, Leroy Anderson, slightly; George H. Claggett, slightly; J. N. Claggett, slightly; Philip Doyle, severely; Lemuel Dunnington, slightly; Benjamin Hodges, slightly; Benjamin F. Dement, severely; Robert Holder, severely; Minion F. Knott, severely; Alexis V. Keepers, slightly; Samuel Polk, severely; John W. Thompson, slightly; R. Wagner, severely.
Company G, Captain Thomas R. Stewart.—Killed, Second Lieutenant William C. Wrightson; privates, J. S. Littleford, J. H. Gossom, W. B. Cator. Wounded, Captain Thomas R. Stewart, severely; Corporal Edward Briddell, severely; privates, J. R. Fentswait, mortally; W. B. Fontain, mortally; E. W. Breslin, mortally; Charles A. Clarke, severely; James Abbott, severely; Benjamin F. Twilly, severely; D. B. P. Yingle, severely; W. A. Vickers, severely; S. E. Adkins, Daniel Boyles, slightly; J. L. Woolford, slightly; William Robbins, slightly. Captured, privates L. H. Weaver, Ross Messick.
CHAPTER VIII.
During the latter part of the night of the 3d, and all day of the 4th, the weary and dispirited troops of Lee retraced their steps. There was no confusion, no disorganization, for, except the depleted ranks, the army was as intact as when it marched over the same road but a few hours before, on their way, as they believed, to certain victory. But how different must have been the feelings of all as they looked around and missed the familiar forms and features of their comrades now still in death or prisoners in the hands of the enemy, thousands of them wounded and dying. To add to their wretchedness the rain commenced to fall in torrents shortly after they began their retrograde movement, and continued the whole of the next day, making the marching very fatiguing and the roads almost impassible for the wagon trains.
Steadily they retired, followed by the army of Meade at a respectful distance. In fact it was a mere show of following that was demanded by the people of the North after what they believed to have been a great victory.
“Do not let the army of Lee escape you,” was more than once telegraphed to the Federal General. But that officer knew better than all others the shattered and disorganized condition of his own army, and the certain destruction that awaited himshould he venture an attack. To follow, then, to quiet the clamorings of the people and the officials at Washington, was all he pretended to do. Had this not been the case he would have gladly taken up the gage of battle so defiantly thrown down to him by General Lee at Hagerstown, and where he suffered him to remain until the Confederate Commander, tired of waiting, again resumed his march by the same slow stages towards the Potomac.
On the 14th of July, Steuart’s brigade recrossed the river at Williamsport, and took up the line of march in the direction of Martinsburg, after an absence from Virginia’s soil of just twenty-six days, of which eleven were spent in Pennsylvania and fifteen in Maryland.
Passing through Martinsburg, destroying the railroad at and near that place, the command went into camp near Darksville, where it was determined to rest and recruit the tired troops for a few days.
On the 22d Johnson’s division broke camp near Darksville and proceeded to Winchester, where it arrived that evening after a fatiguing day’s march.
Next morning rumors prevailed that the enemy were crossing at Snicker’s Gap, and the troops were hurried forward to check, and if possible drive them back. They were found in no force, however, and after a little artillery practice they retired.
Passing through Front Royal and Luray, and crossing the mountains at Thompson’s Gap, on the 28th of July they took the road leading to MadisonCourt House, and passing through that once beautiful village, marched for Orange Court House, via Gordonsville, crossing the Rapidan at Liberty Mills, and arriving at their place of destination on the even of August 1st.
The division was destined to remain here some time, and the incidents attending its stay, and many of the subsequent movements of the Second Maryland, I will give the reader in the form of a diary.
Friday, September 6th.—Up to this date but little of interest has transpired since our arrival, August 1st. The troops have greatly recovered their spirits since the disastrous invasion of Pennsylvania, and are eager to again meet the enemy. We are now thoroughly organized, and although our regiments and brigades do not number as many men as they did three months ago, still we have a large and efficient army. To-day, at five o’clock, P. M., we were called upon to witness a sad, sad scene, in the execution of ten men in the Third North Carolina, of our Brigade. Their crime was desertion, and that under peculiar circumstances. They were men of families, and intelligence had reached them that their wives and little ones were in want. Unable to resist the appeal, these poor fellows started off without leave to succor them if possible. But, unfortunately, they took their arms with them. An officer of their regiment (Adjutant Mallett) was sent to bring them back, and was killed. They were apprehended, tried by court-martial, and sentencedto death. All that it was possible to do was done by their friends to save them, but in vain; and these brave men, who had proved their devotion to the cause in which they had embarked on many a bloody field, were at last to die by the hands of their comrades. The execution took place upon the brigade drill ground, and was witnessed by the whole division, which was drawn up so as to form three sides of a square. The doomed men evinced the greatest firmness when pinioned to the stakes, and died like the brave men they were. At the first fire all fell dead but one, and it was necessary to discharge three shots into his body before life was extinct. It was indeed a sad, sickening sight.
September 11th.—To-day we had a grand review of Ewell’s Second Army Corps, by General Lee, who expressed himself highly pleased.
September 19th.—This morning the whole of Johnson’s division moved in the direction of Fredericksburg, and halted, after a march of twenty miles, at Mitchell’s Ford, on the Rapidan, where we formed line of battle, in anticipation of an attack from the enemy, as several small parties of Federal troops could be seen in the distance. The command remained here until the 8th of October, inviting an attack, without being gratified, when the division returned to within five miles of Orange Court House.
October 9th.—This is a cold, frosty morning, and at daylight we moved towards Madison CourtHouse, and encamped within four miles of the place.
October 10th.—We were awakened at five o’clock, and moved at six, passing to the right of Madison Court House, and shortly after forded Robinson’s River, where our cavalry had a skirmish, capturing about one hundred of the enemy. After crossing the river, we moved in the direction of Culpepper Court House, and encamped within eight miles of it. During the evening heavy cannonading was heard in our front, and it seemed as though a fight was imminent, as it was well known Meade, with his whole army, were not far off.
October 11th.—The column moved at early dawn, and, marching slowly, went into camp in the vicinity of Culpepper Court House. During our march we saw evidences, on every side, of Yankee vandalism. Whole fields of corn had been wantonly destroyed, and the citizens complained bitterly of the treatment they had received.
October 12th.—We were aroused at two o’clock in the morning, but did not move until half-past six, when we continued the road to Culpepper, passing a great many deserted camps, which gave every evidence that the enemy had abandoned them in haste. Leaving Culpepper to the right, the command soon after forded Hazel River, and struck the Warrenton turnpike at Jeffersontown.
From this place to the Rappahannock, a distance of three miles, a sharp skirmish ensued, the enemyretiring. In this affair quite a number of prisoners were captured. At dark we crossed the river, and took up our quarters in a deserted camp.
October 13th.—The column moved at sunrise, taking the Warrenton pike, and passed through what was once the beautiful Warrenton Springs, though now nothing but a mass of ruins. From thence our route lay through the village of Warrenton, six miles distant, and near which we encamped for the night. It is now pretty generally believed a fight will not take place this side of Manassas, twenty-two miles distant, as the enemy are rapidly falling back.
October 14th.—We moved at sunrise, taking the road to Manassas. The cannonading was heavy during the entire day. After marching sixteen miles the division went into camp about five miles from the old battle-field.
October 16th.—Early in the morning the brigade moved to the front and formed line of battle at Bristow’s Station. A sharp artillery fight soon after commenced which was very destructive to the horses, though fortunately the men escaped with a few slight wounds.
We remained in this vicinity two days, busily engaged destroying the railroad, when we turned our faces towards the Rappahannock, marching parallel with the road, and crossed over a temporary bridge on the 19th.
October 26th.—The division moved at 7 A. M.and recrossed the Rappahannock and advanced to Bealton Station, where it formed line of battle.
October 27th.—All quiet save a little skirmishing between the cavalry and artillery. To-day at dress parade the long-looked for order was read detaching the battalion from the brigade, and transferring it to the command of Colonel Bradley T. Johnson, who had been ordered by General Lee to assemble the Maryland Line, and picket the line on his flank from the White House to New Kent Court House, and protect his communications with Richmond, with his Headquarters at Hanover Junction, where the North and South Anna rivers were of vital importance to him.
On the 2d of November the battalion took the cars at Brandy Station and arrived at the Junction next day.
Although the men had endured such great privations in the long and arduous campaign of the summer, they left the front with regret; but they were still anxious to see the Maryland Line assembled once more, and to be with their old friends and companions. In the Line every man felt a deep interest and took a just pride, and it was hoped that should they be again united they would never be separated. It was not from any feelings of dislike to General Steuart that they openly expressed this preference, but that the General could not be induced to believe, and for sometime before their departure he had been exceedingly arbitrary in his treatment ofthem, which did engender a dislike, and therefore the order to leave was hailed with delight.
The author has forgotten to mention, and will here give it but a passing notice, that whilst encamped at Orange Court House, the battalion was augmented by an eighth company, from Richmond, under the command of one Captain C. C. Callan. They were not Marylanders, but a set of worthless men, with a few exceptions, who had been taken out of the military prisons there. It was contrary to the wishes of the officers and men of the Second Maryland that they were assigned to that command, and the matter, for a time, excited no little feeling. However, they were not long troubled with Captain Callan, who was dismissed the service, whereupon most of the men deserted. The few who remained were still designated a company, and by their choice Lieutenant Bussey, of Company D, became their Captain.