On the afternoon of the 1st of July the troops of Jackson passed by Frazier’s farm, and the dead that lay on every side gave evidence of the terrible conflict that Longstreet had had there the day before.
About four o’clock the rattle of musketry and the roar of artillery began in our front, and rapidly increased as we advanced. Passing the Willischurch we halted in the woods to await orders. The battle had now fully begun, and raged with great fury. It was evident from the very first that the enemy had greatly the advantage in position, and that on our part the battle would have to be fought almost exclusively with infantry. Several times Jackson sent in his artillery, but they were quickly compelled to return torn and disabled. Never before had I listened to such an infernal din, and it was every moment increasing. The woods in which we lay was swept by the artillery, and immense trees were cut down by the huge shells from the gunboats as though they had been straws. In the midst of all this dreadful fire Jackson sat calmly upon his horse, surrounded by his staff, who in vain urged him to seek some safer position. At last, after a shell had exploded in their very midst, killing a staff officer and several horses, he was persuaded to leave, and it was with a feeling of relief that we saw him retire.
As the battle progressed we seemed to be faring badly, for our best troops were constantly coming to the rear beaten, and in the utmost confusion. For four hours did this fire continue, and for four hours was the First Maryland compelled to lay under it without being able to return a shot.
At last with gladness we responded to the order to advance, although it seemed as though we were marching into the very jaws of death. The scene as we cleared the woods and approached the fieldwas grand beyond description. For miles the moonless sky was lit up by the incessant flashes of artillery and musketry and exploding shells, and it seemed as though we were stalking forth into a very sea of fire and flame. But nothing mortal could withstand that artillery, and again we were compelled to seek shelter from its fury. For half an hour longer it continued, when it perceptibly slackened, and soon ceased altogether.
Completely unnerved and prostrated by the fire we had been compelled to endure so long, we threw ourselves upon the ground in the midst of the dead and dying, not to sleep, but to lay awake and watch the enemy’s lanterns flitting over the field, where they were busily engaged removing the wounded, and to listen to the cries of our own poor fellows who lay mangled and dying upon that field of awful carnage.
At length I fell into a broken sleep, from which I was awakened before day by Colonel Johnson, and ordered to hold myself in readiness to advance my company, along with Captains Herbert and Edelin, at the first appearance of daylight. As it dawned we moved forward over heaps of dead and wounded, and in a short time after encountered a small force of the enemy, which retired after exchanging a volley with us, and it now became evident that McClellan had withdrawn during the night.
Soon after day the rain commenced to fall in torrents, and drenched to the skin and miserable, we set to work to remove our wounded and bury ourdead, of which there seemed no end. The majority of the wounds were of the most dreadful description, being inflicted principally by fragments of shell, whilst most of the killed were horribly mangled. Very many had fallen in the woods, and as the rain accumulated in the dense foliage, huge limbs that had been shattered the day before by artillery, would give way and come to the ground, crushing the poor wretches who had dragged their already maimed bodies under them for protection from the pitiless storm. Altogether, Malvern Hill was the most dreadful field I ever beheld, and I hope never to witness such another.
By night of the 2d our melancholy task was done, and next morning we moved upon the enemy at Harrison’s Landing. After slight skirmishing here for several days, General Lee thought it best to withdraw, as McClellan’s position was a strong one, and the army therefore sought the more healthy country around Richmond wherein to encamp.
The First Maryland was stationed on the Central Railroad, about three miles from the city, from whence in a few days it was ordered to Charlottesville to recruit, and where it arrived about the 15th of July. Recruiting went on slowly, however, and after remaining at Charlottesville until the 4th of August, the command was ordered to Gordonsville, on its way, we supposed, to join Jackson, who was then near Cedar Mountain, and daily expecting to encounter his old adversary Banks, in command of the advance of Pope’s army.
The reader may judge then the surprise of all, when a few days after our arrival an order came for the disbanding of the regiment. Nothing could have surprised us more, and we were not sparing of anathemas upon the government that had shown so little gratitude to the brave men who had been so long battling in its behalf. To disband us within the very sound of the enemy’s cannon. Could anything be more humiliating? And then to assign no reason for it. Had we disgraced our colors, or had we ever turned our backs upon the foeman? What could all this mean?
But murder will out, and it was not long before we discovered that it had been brought about by two or three politicians from Maryland, who were aspirants for military fame, but which fame they were to acquire by being at once foisted into high positions. Now, as Mr. Davis could not be made to appreciate their talents as these men would have him, and give them what they asked for in the army, they sought through the Secretary of War to have the First Maryland disbanded, hoping that what remained might form a nucleus for a regiment which they were to raise and command. In the first they succeeded—in the last they failed.
It was the 17th of August, if I mistake not, that Colonel Johnson drew the little remnant of heroes up in line for the last time, and after a few appropriate and touching remarks, read the order disbanding them. Not a man but felt his humiliation,for even as the order was being read the troops of Longstreet were filing by on their way to new fields of glory and of conquest. “Come on, Marylanders, we can’t get along without you!” they exclaimed in their ignorance of what was then transpiring, and not dreaming that they had seen us on the field as a body for the last time. And then when the little State flag presented us before the first Manassas by the ladies of Maryland, and which we loved so well, was furled never again to flaunt defiantly in the face of the foe, a look of affection beamed upon it from every eye in the command, and strong men, unable to control their emotions, turned sadly away. Never had it seemed so dear to us before, and although now all tattered and torn it looked more beautiful than when it came from the fair fingers that worked it. To the donors we then pledged ourselves to defend it with our heart’s best blood, and that promise had been sacredly kept. Brave hearts and strong arms had carried it through the blood and carnage of many an ensanguined field, and where the fight raged thickest there it was ever to be found. Heroic men had fallen beneath its folds, and as the eye grew dim they sought a last glance at the colors they had loved so well in health and strength, but which seemed still dearer to them in death. Farewell, dear little emblem of woman’s devotion; upon thy folds rests no dishonor. There, fold it gently, for it is precious, and will ever serve to remind us of the First Maryland Regiment of Infantry, C. S. A.
Lt. Col. JAMES R. HERBERT.
Lt. Col. JAMES R. HERBERT.
Lt. Col. JAMES R. HERBERT.