CHAPTER XVI.

The Pursuit—Congratulatory Order—Fisher’s Hill—Gen. Emory—Mount Jackson—Mount Crawford—Cedar Creek—Build Breastworks—Surprise—Battle of Cedar Creek—Fall back to Kearnstown—Martinsburg—Thanksgiving.

letter T

THE battle was won, and now came the pursuit. Col. McCauley assumed the command of the third brigade, which broke camp at daylight of the 20th, and began the march up the Valley, reaching Strasburg in the evening. The next day, congratulatory orders from the President and Gen. Grant were read to the troops; and in the afternoon, the regiment changed camp, and took a new position on the hills overlooking Strasburg. The enemy were strongly entrenched on Fisher’s hill, in a position considered almost impregnable; but they were not allowed to remain in undisturbed possession long. At daylight, on the 22d, the Nineteenth Corps moved up in front, and constructed breastworks, driving in the rebel skirmishers from their rifle-pits. The Eighth Corps, passing up the north side of the mountain, took the enemy completelyby surprise, while the Nineteenth Corps charging in front, in three lines of battle, cheered on by Sheridan, drove them in confusion from their strongholds. It was near night, when the rebels fled; and the pursuit was kept up till morning, when Woodstock was reached.

In the heat of the pursuit, the advance forces were fired into by an ambush, and one man instantly killed. Some confusion ensuing, Gen. Emory rode up, and inquired what regiment it was. “Thirty Eighth,” was the reply. “Just the regiment I want,” said the old veteran; and he immediately formed the regiment in line of battle across the pike.

Soon after, it was sent forward to skirmish, and marched in that manner during the night, reaching Woodstock in the morning, and remained there till noon. Continuing the march, the brigade went into camp at night beyond the beautiful little town of Edenburg. The next day’s march (in column by brigade) was a fatiguing one, the Nineteenth Corps being obliged to make a flank movement at Mount Jackson, to drive the rebels from a thickly wooded hill beyond the Shenandoah River; and upon going into camp beyond Newmarket, the rear-guard of the retreating enemy was in sight.

On Sunday, 25th, the brigade reached Harrisonburg, which was then full of wounded rebels, and remained quietly in camp until the 29th, when the Nineteenth Corps and one division of the Sixth Corps marched to Mount Crawford to support a cavalry movement, the Thirty Eighth acting as flankers, and being detailed at night as picket. The next day, the entire force moved back to Harrisonburg, having destroyed a great number of barns and mills.

During this march up the Valley, rations were often short, the supply-trains not being able to keep up; and the army was obliged to live partly on the country. The fine apples were especially prized after the long abstinence from vegetables and fruit; and the premium sheep afforded rich repasts to the hungry boys, who seldom stopped to inquire whether they were of the long or short wool species. Indeed, some of the city boys of the Thirty Eighth were not adepts in agricultural matters, or one of them would not have approached a “lord of the herd” with a coaxing “So, mooly; so, mooly,” his dipper carefully concealed behind him.

Remaining at Harrisonburg until Oct. 6th, on that day the regiment marched to Newmarket,making eighteen miles, and, on the day following, had a still harder march of twenty-two miles. Still falling back, on the 8th Flint Hill was reached, where there was much suffering from the cold. On the 10th, after hearing orders from Gen. Sheridan, announcing a large capture of artillery, wagons, ambulances, and prisoners from Early, the army moved back to Cedar Creek, and again constructed breastworks. An engagement took place on the 14th, between a brigade of the Eighth Corps and a portion of Early’s troops, in which the Thirty Fourth Massachusetts lost heavily, Col. Wells, in command of the brigade, being killed.

On the evening of the 18th, the third brigade received orders to be in readiness in the morning for a reconnoissance, and were in line before daylight for that purpose, when a sudden crash of musketry on the left, where the Eighth Corps were encamped, gave intimation of an attack. The brigade was ordered to the breastworks immediately, and men sent forward to the creek, at the base of the hill, to give notice of the approach of the enemy. No attack was made in front; but, on the left, having flanked the Eighth Corps, and driven it back in confusion, the rebels fell upon the Nineteenth, of which the third brigade of thesecond division was the extreme left, the Thirty Eighth being on the right of the brigade. Exposed to a severe cross-fire, the brigade-commander, Col. McCauley, being wounded, and the victorious rebels sweeping all before them, the regiment fell back, passed through the camp, and joined in the retreat. At this time the battle seemed lost, and all the manœuvring in the Valley for the past two months thrown away; but the enemy failed to follow up his advantage promptly; and the Union army, recovering from the confusion into which it had been thrown by the suddenness of the attack, reformed its scattered ranks, and disputed the further advance of the rebels, when the arrival of Gen. Sheridan on the ground at noon, put a new face upon matters. The army was no longer without a leader. A temporary breastwork of rails was thrown up, behind which the rebel advance was awaited; and, as they drew near, a terrific volley of musketry staggered and repulsed them. The tide was turning. Riding over the field, showing himself to every regiment, and everywhere received with enthusiasm, the presence of a master-spirit was at once felt; and when the proper time came, and the order was given to charge, the army advanced with a power that crushed allresistance. The cavalry dashed into the broken ranks of the fleeing enemy, capturing them by hundreds, while the infantry pressed on eagerly toward the camps they had left in the morning. In this final charge, for almost the first time in its history, the regiment was in the second line of battle.

Back over the battle-ground where they had triumphed all day, over the Union breastworks, and beyond Cedar Creek, in one confused mass, the discomfited rebels fled, abandoning guns, wagons, rations, and even the plunder of the Union camps; while the victors took possession of their recovered quarters.

“Up from the south at break of day,Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,The affrighted air with a shudder bore,Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door,The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,Telling the battle was on once more,And Sheridan twenty miles away.“And wilder still those billows of warThundered along the horizon’s bar,And louder yet into Winchester rolledThe roar of that red sea uncontrolled,Making the blood of the listener cold,As he thought of the stake in that fiery frayAnd Sheridan twenty miles away.“But there is a road from Winchester town—A good, broad highway leading down;And there, through the flush of the morning light,A steed, black as the steeds of night,Was seen to pass as with eagle flight.As if he knew the terrible need,He stretched away with his utmost speed:Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay,With Sheridan fifteen miles away.“Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.The heart of the steed and the heart of the masterWere beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,With Sheridan only ten miles away.“Under his spurning feet, the road,Like a narrow Alpine river, flowed;And the landscape sped away behind,Like an ocean flying before the wind;And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire;But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire,—He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,With Sheridan only five miles away.“The first that the General saw were the groupsOf stragglers, and then the retreating troops.What was done—what to do—a glance told him both;Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas,And the wave of retreat checked its course there becauseThe sight of the master compelled it to pause.With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril’s play,He seemed to the whole great army to say:‘I have brought you Sheridan all the wayFrom Winchester down to save the day!’“Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!And when their statues are placed on high,Under the dome of the Union sky,—The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,—There, with the glorious General’s name,Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:‘Here is the steed that saved the day,By carrying Sheridan into the fight,From Winchester,—twenty miles away!’”

“Up from the south at break of day,

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,

The affrighted air with a shudder bore,

Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door,

The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,

Telling the battle was on once more,

And Sheridan twenty miles away.

“And wilder still those billows of warThundered along the horizon’s bar,And louder yet into Winchester rolledThe roar of that red sea uncontrolled,Making the blood of the listener cold,As he thought of the stake in that fiery frayAnd Sheridan twenty miles away.

“And wilder still those billows of war

Thundered along the horizon’s bar,

And louder yet into Winchester rolled

The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,

Making the blood of the listener cold,

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray

And Sheridan twenty miles away.

“But there is a road from Winchester town—A good, broad highway leading down;And there, through the flush of the morning light,A steed, black as the steeds of night,Was seen to pass as with eagle flight.As if he knew the terrible need,He stretched away with his utmost speed:Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay,With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

“But there is a road from Winchester town—

A good, broad highway leading down;

And there, through the flush of the morning light,

A steed, black as the steeds of night,

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight.

As if he knew the terrible need,

He stretched away with his utmost speed:

Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay,

With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

“Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.The heart of the steed and the heart of the masterWere beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,With Sheridan only ten miles away.

“Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,

The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,

Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,

Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master

Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,

Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,

With Sheridan only ten miles away.

“Under his spurning feet, the road,Like a narrow Alpine river, flowed;And the landscape sped away behind,Like an ocean flying before the wind;And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire;But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire,—He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,With Sheridan only five miles away.

“Under his spurning feet, the road,

Like a narrow Alpine river, flowed;

And the landscape sped away behind,

Like an ocean flying before the wind;

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,

Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire;

But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire,—

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,

With Sheridan only five miles away.

“The first that the General saw were the groupsOf stragglers, and then the retreating troops.What was done—what to do—a glance told him both;Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas,And the wave of retreat checked its course there becauseThe sight of the master compelled it to pause.With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril’s play,He seemed to the whole great army to say:‘I have brought you Sheridan all the wayFrom Winchester down to save the day!’

“The first that the General saw were the groups

Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops.

What was done—what to do—a glance told him both;

Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,

He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas,

And the wave of retreat checked its course there because

The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;

By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril’s play,

He seemed to the whole great army to say:

‘I have brought you Sheridan all the way

From Winchester down to save the day!’

“Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!And when their statues are placed on high,Under the dome of the Union sky,—The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,—There, with the glorious General’s name,Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:‘Here is the steed that saved the day,By carrying Sheridan into the fight,From Winchester,—twenty miles away!’”

“Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!

Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!

And when their statues are placed on high,

Under the dome of the Union sky,—

The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,—

There, with the glorious General’s name,

Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:

‘Here is the steed that saved the day,

By carrying Sheridan into the fight,

From Winchester,—twenty miles away!’”

The men had lost everything not on their persons,—clothing, blankets, likenesses of friends, letters, journals of the two years’ service, and mementos of the Louisiana campaigns; and, worse than all, over thirty of their comrades were on their way to torture and starvation in Salisbury or the Libby. Leaving the cavalry to pursue the flying enemy, the infantry, cold and hungry, bivouacked for the night on their old camp-grounds. In the morning, the army moved two miles toward Strasburg, and remained there until the 21st, when the second division returned to Cedar Creek.

Congratulatory orders from the President to Gen. Sheridan were read to the troops on the 24th; and, on the 26th, the ever-welcome face of the paymaster appeared in camp. The Cambridge companies were gratified, on the 30th, by a visit from Mr. Wellington, who, as usual, brought many articles for the comfort of the men. With the exception of a corps review by Gens. Sheridan,Wright, Cook, and Emory, on the 7th of November, nothing of importance transpired until the 9th, when the army fell back to Kearnstown, and went into quarters between that village and Winchester (Camp Russell), where heavy breastworks were thrown up. The enemy had not yet left the Valley. On the evening of the 10th, the wagons were packed in anticipation of an attack; and there was lively skirmishing at the front during the next day; but, the enemy did not appear in force, and Powell’s cavalry by a bold dash, made a large capture of prisoners and munitions of war.

Monday afternoon, Nov. 14, the regiment broke camp, and marched to Winchester; and, on the following morning started for Martinsburg, as guard to a supply-train, making the entire distance, twenty-two miles, before night. Leaving Martinsburg on the 19th, the regiment returned to camp near Winchester, and resumed camp duties.

The picket duty at Camp Russell was very severe, especially as the weather grew cold. No fires were allowed at night; a vidette was thrown out from every post; and, at daybreak, the picket-line deployed, and remained so until sunrise. At the same time, every regiment stood in line of battle behind the breastworks.

Thanksgiving Day, the regiment received a portion of the poultry sent from the North for the soldiers; and, by clubbing together, nearly all the messes had a tolerable soup. A real Thanksgiving, however, arrived from Cambridge on the 27th; and then Cos. A, B, and F had turkeys and chickens and puddings in abundance. If the kind friends at home could have looked into those little tents at Camp Russell, at that time, they would have considered themselves repaid for all their trouble.

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