Battle of Fort Stevens
Battle of Fort Stevens.
Lieutenant-Colonel Johnson, commanding the Forty-ninth, a brave man, who had never shrunk from danger, and who had shared all the varied fortunes of the brigade since its organization, fell mortally wounded. Colonel Visscher, of the Forty-third, who had but lately succeeded the beloved Wilson, was killed. Major Jones, commanding the Seventh Maine, was also among the slain; and Major Crosby, commanding the Sixty-first Pennsylvania,who had but just recovered from the bad wound he received in the Wilderness, was taken to the hospital, where the surgeon removed his left arm from the shoulder. Colonel French, of the Seventy-seventh, was injured, but not seriously. The commanding officer of every regiment in the brigade was either killed or wounded.
The fight had lasted but a few minutes, when the stream of bleeding, mangled ones, began to come to the rear. Men, leaning upon the shoulders of comrades, or borne painfully on stretchers, the pallor of their countenances rendered more ghastly by the thick dust which had settled upon them, were brought into the hospitals by scores, where the medical officers, ever active in administering relief to their companions, were hard at work binding up ghastly wounds, administering stimulants, coffee and food, or resorting to the hard necessity of amputation.
At the summit of the ascent, the confederates were strengthened by their second line of battle, and here they made a stout resistance; but even this position they were forced to abandon in haste, and as darkness closed in upon the scene, our men were left as victors in possession of the ground lately occupied by the rebels, having driven their adversaries more than a mile.
The Vermont brigade now came to the relief of the boys who had so gallantly won the field, and the Third brigade returned at midnight to the bivouac it had left in the morning. But not all returned. Many of those brave fellows who went with such alacrity into the battle, had fallen to rise no more. In the orchard, in the road, about the frame house and upon the summit, where the rebels had made so determined a resistance, their forms were stretched upon the green sward and in the dusty road, stiff and cold. Many more had come to the hospital severely injured, maimed for life or mortally wounded.
The little brigade, numbering only a thousand menwhen it went into action, had lost two hundred and fifty of its number.
During the night the raiders made their escape toward Rockville. The prisoners left in our hands told us that they had anticipated an easy victory in front of Washington, believing that the forts were defended only by convalescents and quartermaster's men, and, when they saw the white crosses of the old Sixth corps, they were seized with consternation. They now understood that the city was guarded by veterans who had acquired, in the rebel army, a disagreeable reputation.
While the battle was in progress, President Lincoln stood upon the parapet of the fort watching, with eager interest, the scene before him. Bullets came whistling around, and one severely wounded a surgeon who stood within three feet of the President. Mrs. Lincoln entreated him to leave the fort, but he refused; he, however, accepted the advice of General Wright to descend from the parapet and watch the battle from a less exposed position.
Cavalry was sent in the morning to ascertain the direction of the flight of the enemy, but the infantry remained quietly awaiting events.
We gathered our dead comrades from the field where they had fallen, and gave them the rude burial of soldiers on the common near Fort Stevens. None of those high in authority, who had come out to see them give up their lives for their country, were present to pay the last honors to the dead heroes. No officer of state, no lady of wealth, no citizen of Washington was there; but we laid them in their graves within sight of the capital, without coffins, with only their gory garments and their blankets around them. With the rude tenderness of soldiers, we covered them in the earth; we marked their names with our pencils on the little head-boards of pine, and turned sadly away to other scenes.
But though no concourse of citizens followed the patriots to their humble resting place, though no bands wailed the solemn dirge, and no casket but the earth inclosed their remains, their deeds were not forgotten. Their memory was enshrined in the hearts of the people; and after a few weeks their remains were exhumed from their scattered graves, they were placed together in a little inclosure on the sunny slope in front of the fort, and a beautiful monument tells the story of their noble sacrifice.
The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy—Crossing the Potomac—Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap—Return of the Sixth corps to Washington—March back to Harper's Ferry—Return to Maryland—Death of Major Ellis—General Sheridan assigned to command—Back in the Valley—Charlestown—John Mosher—March to Fisher Hill—Return to Charlestown—Fight at Charlestown.
The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy—Crossing the Potomac—Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap—Return of the Sixth corps to Washington—March back to Harper's Ferry—Return to Maryland—Death of Major Ellis—General Sheridan assigned to command—Back in the Valley—Charlestown—John Mosher—March to Fisher Hill—Return to Charlestown—Fight at Charlestown.
At one o'clock the column of the Sixth corps moved away from Fort Stevens, marching through the little village of Tanleytown, following in pursuit of the rebels. We moved rapidly till ten o'clock, then halted, much fatigued, at Potomac Cross Roads. At five o'clock, next morning, we were once more on our way, and after a march of twelve hours through a pleasant country, we made our bivouac at Poolsville, having marched thirty-six miles since leaving Fort Stevens. Our Sixth corps, with the two divisions of the Nineteenth corps, now constituted a new army, under command of General Wright, General Getty having command of the Sixth corps. At Poolsville we lay all day, waiting for our small cavalry force to find out the course which Early's army had taken, but on Saturday morning, the 16th, we were moving at daylight. We marched toward the Potomac, which we forded near the scene of Ball's Bluff slaughter. The spectacle at the ford was novel and exciting. The stream was wide, but not more than two or three feet deep. The bottom was rough and stony, and the current was strong. For nearly a mile up and down the river the brigades were crossing; the stream filled with infantry wading with difficult stepsover the uneven bottom, mounted officers carefully guiding their horses lest they should stumble, trains of artillery and wagons slowly toiling through, and groups of pack animals scarcely able to keep their footing under their huge burdens. The laugh of hundreds sounded up and down the river, as some unfortunate footman, slipping from a smooth stone, would, for a moment, disappear beneath the surface of the river, or as some overloaded mule or pack horse, losing his footing, would precipitate his load, and peradventure the small negro boy, who, in order to secure a dry passage across the ford, had perched himself on the top of the bags and bundles, into the rushing waters.
The troops gathered upon the southern bank of the river, and the infantry proceeded to empty the water from their boots and shoes, and to wring it from their stockings. This short task over, the march was resumed.
Passing through a section where some very interesting conglomerate rocks attracted the attention of those scientifically inclined, we left the little town of Leesburgh behind, and at eight o'clock in the morning encamped in a ploughed field, tired and hungry, and, it must be confessed, a little dissatisfied at the idea of sleeping on ploughed ground while fresh meadows were on every side of us. In this bivouac we spent the Sabbath, and services were held by the chaplains in the various brigades.
Early Monday morning the march was resumed, our little army passing through the delightful hill scenery of Loudon county, and through the diminutive villages of Hamilton and Purcellville. As the afternoon advanced, we found ourselves toiling up the ascent of the Blue Ridge, pleasant farm houses and fine orchards greeting our sight on either side of the road. Darkness was upon us before we passed through Snicker's Gap, a deep gorge in the mountains, through which winds a rough, unkeptroad; and by the moonlight we spread our blankets for another night's rest.
The morning revealed the lovely Shenandoah Valley spread out before us, its river lying at our feet.
The troops of the "Army of Virginia," under Averill, had engaged the enemy with doubtful success before our arrival. Indeed, the troops on both sides seemed to have become demoralized. The rebels were retreating, and Averill's men had made their way back to the east side of the river in such hot haste as to leave some of their flags floating in the stream.
We remained during the 19th in apparent uncertainty as to what course to pursue, whether to give chase to the enemy, who it was now supposed had made good his retreat up the valley, or to return to Washington. But an order from General Grant, directing General Wright to get back to Washington at once with the Sixth corps, that the troops might be at once returned to the Army of the Potomac before Early could reinforce Lee, determined our course, and at night we were again passing through Snicker's Gap, the infantry and teams crowded together in the narrow defile to the great inconvenience of the footmen and annoyance of the artillerymen and teamsters. Marching rapidly all night and the next day, halting only a short time for coffee in the morning and at noon, we retraced our steps to Leesburgh, then following the turnpike we reached and passed Drainsville, and halted near Difficult creek. July 23d, the corps marched through Lewinsville and Langley, passed Camp Griffin, the memory of which was indissolubly connected with our first winter in the service, crossed Chain bridge and went in camp near Tanleytown, five miles out from Washington.
Transports were waiting on the Potomac to convey us to City Point, but as matters in the valley still seemed unsettled, the corps remained at Tanleytown, and on the25th, it became certain that Early with his army was again moving down the valley, threatening Maryland and Pennsylvania. The Sixth corps received orders to move at once toward Harper's Ferry, but by some delay it was noon of the 26th when it turned back from Tanleytown toward the scene of our future brilliant operations.
The day on which the corps moved had been hot, and many of the men, weary with long marches, had been forced to fall out, but, most of all, bad whisky from Washington had demoralized great numbers, and these, with the sick and weary, made up a great crowd of stragglers. The task, which was assigned to the rear-guard, the Seventy-seventh New York, of urging these inebriated and discouraged ones toward their commands, was not an easy or agreeable one. The corps made all haste in the direction of Frederick, which city it reached on the 28th, crossing the field of General Wallace's battle with Early.
Without halting at Frederick, except to get our coffee near Monocacy creek, we pushed on to Jefferson, getting into camp at midnight. The next day we marched through Knoxville, Newton and Sandy Hook, through that wonderful gorge in the mountains at Harper's Ferry, and arrived at evening footsore and weary at Halltown, four miles south of Harper's Ferry. Then, next day we were ordered back again. The whole command poured into the deep valley at Harper's Ferry, the day was sultry even for that locality, not a breath of air seemed to be stirring, and the high mountains on every side reflected the heat and kept off the breeze. Into this hot, dusty inclosure among the hills, the whole army poured, and as there was only a single pontoon bridge to serve as an outlet, there was of course great delay. Horses stood harnessed to the cannon or under the saddle, the sweat literally pouring off their sides like rain, while men panted for breath and seemedalmost on the point of suffocation. It was late in the night when our corps was all over the bridge, and the march was continued without rest during the whole night and all next day till we arrived again near Frederick City, where we had a night and a day of rest. We now learned that the cause of our sudden countermarch was the raid of Early's cavalry, who had burned the city of Chambersburgh, and caused much destruction of property elsewhere.
By this time the Sixth corps was, in army parlance, "about played out." Even our famous marches on the Gettysburgh campaign were eclipsed by this perpetual series of forced marches for nearly a month. The men were very much worn from their campaigns before leaving Petersburgh, but now we had had a month of traveling, night and day.
Hardly were the troops settled in camp for a night of rest, before the bugle called them to go again. Now when we marched, horses would drop down by dozens along the road, unable to rise again. Their riders would strip them of their saddles, and leave the worn out steeds to their fate. If, by chance, one of these deserted horses, after a few hours of rest, could muster strength to rise to his feet, he was doomed to be seized by some drummer boy, or other wight of the "bummer" tribe, mounted and rode till his strength again failed. Then the dismounted bummer would coolly remove his hempen bridle, shoulder his drum, and seek for another steed. For two or three days past the weather had been excessively hot, and men could be seen lying all along the roadside, as we marched, suffering from sunstroke.
Wednesday, August 3d, the Sixth corps marched to Buckeystown, a little village on the Monocacy, about five miles south of Frederick.
The different brigades of the corps were scattered about on the hillsides which bounded the pleasant valley of theMonocacy, where pure fresh air was in abundance, and the men gladly availed themselves of the privilege of bathing in the delightfully clear waters of the river. For a distance of nearly two miles the river was filled with bathers at all hours, except in the hottest part of the day and in the night, and even then some might be seen enjoying the luxury of the bath.
At Buckeystown we remained two days, in the enjoyment of a pleasant bivouac; yet, as though no place was free from evil, an event occurred here afflictive to our brigade and to the corps.
Among the most energetic and brave officers of our Third brigade, was Major Ellis, of the Forty-ninth New York. He had been wounded at Spottsylvania while leading a charge against the enemy at the terrible "angle." A ramrod had passed through his left arm, and bruised the chest near the heart. He was taken to Fredericksburgh, from whence he went to Washington, and thence home. Returning to his command before he had fully recovered, he was advised by medical officers not to attempt any severe duty. But being detailed to the staff of General Russell, commanding the First division, he at once resumed active military duties. On these recent marches, the major, weary of inaction, had taken command of a body of men who acted as additional provost-guard to the division.
In this position he had exhibited his usual energy, though it was thought by some he executed his duties with too great severity. Ever since receiving his wound, he had complained of severe neuralgic pains in the region of the heart. Except that this pain was slightly more acute than usual, the major retired to his tent on the night of the 3d, in his accustomed health.
In the morning he sent his servant from the tent for a moment, and when the man returned the major was dead. An autopsy was made by the writer of these pages, in thepresence of about twenty of his professional brethren. A sharp splinter of bone from one of the ribs was found with its acute point piercing vital organs.
The funeral display was the most imposing ever witnessed in any corps of the Army of the Potomac. We had seen military pageants on a large scale, but nothing to compare with this in its solemn sublimity.
The remains were laid in state in a large tent near General Russell's head-quarters, wrapped in a silken flag, and the tent itself was draped with the Stars and Stripes. Presently the major's regiment, the Forty-ninth New York, came as mourners, unarmed, and formed in two ranks facing each other near the tent. Then the chaplain of the Forty-ninth, led in a short religious service, very appropriate and very impressive, while the whole of the First division was being formed in two parallel lines facing each other, and about eighty paces apart. The service over, a regiment of heavy artillery came to act as escort. The remains, inclosed in a rude coffin, wrapped in the flag under which he had so often fought, were placed in an ambulance, and the funeral cortege began its slow march through the long lines of sunbrowned veterans who stood on either side. First in the procession was the escort, the muskets of the men reversed, preceded by a band playing a solemn dirge. Then the ambulance with the remains, the major's hat, coat and sword lying upon the coffin; then his riderless horse, saddled and bridled, and led by a servant; then the regiment as mourners; and finally General Russell and the staff of the First division with the division flag, and the staffs of the three brigades of the division, and our Third brigade, Second division, each with its flag, with a large concourse of officers, personal friends of him whose remains were thus honored.
As the cortege proceeded with slow steps between the lines of soldiers, they stood with arms presented, andthe colors of the regiments drooped as the procession passed. Thus attended the remains were conveyed to the railroad station, three miles distant, where they were placed on board a train for Washington.
Lieutenant-General Grant visited our army on the 5th of August, and, in consultation with General Hunter, determined upon a course for our future operations. So quietly was this visit of the Commander-in-Chief of the armies made, that very few in our little army knew of the presence of General Grant.
Among other things determined upon at this time was a change of commanders. General Hunter, who had commanded the "Army of the Shenandoah," with credit to himself and honor to our arms, was to be relieved, and General Philip S. Sheridan, who had, since the commencement of the spring campaign, commanded the cavalry corps of the Army of the Potomac, was to take command of all the forces operating against Early. The department of West Virginia, Washington, Susquehanna and the Middle Department, were to constitute the "Middle Military Division," to be under the command of General Sheridan. To this middle military division the Sixth corps was temporarily assigned. This was a new era in the history of that corps. Hitherto it had been, from the beginning, connected with the noble Army of the Potomac. Its history and its fame were inseparably connected with the history of that army, and when the corps had come to the rescue of the capital, it came as a detachment of the Army of the Potomac. Now, for the first time, the corps was to be identified with another army. But great as was the fame and honor which the corps had, by noble deeds, won for itself, it was now, by heroic achievements in the new field, to crown itself with glories even more dazzling than those in its proudest days in the old army.
We were ordered, on the evening of the 5th, to marchimmediately. The troops of the Sixth corps proceeded at once to Monocacy Junction, where they took cars for Harper's Ferry. The quartermasters, and hospital trains followed rapidly by the wagon roads.
Troops and trains reached the heights beyond Harper's Ferry at night, and on the following morning the line of battle was established at Halltown.
General Sheridan now assumed command. We knew little of him except that he had very successfully commanded the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac for the last three months, but we were satisfied that General Grant trusted to his generalship, and we had already learned enough of General Grant's knowledge of human nature to place confidence in the general of his choice.
One thing pleased us at the start. Our new general was visible to the soldiers of his command; wherever we went he was with the column, inhaling the dust, leaving the road for the teams, never a day or two days behind the rest of the army, but always riding by the side of the men. His watchful care of the details of the march, his interest in the progress of the trains, and the ready faculty with which he brought order out of confusion when the roads became blockaded, reminded us of our lamented Sedgwick. Another feature of the new administration pleased us. When the head-quarter tents of the commander of the Middle Military Division were pitched, there was one wall tent, one wedge tent and two flies. This modest array of shelter for the general and his staff was in happy contrast with the good old times in the Army of the Potomac, when more than eighty six-mule teams were required to haul the baggage for head-quarters of the army.
At Halltown we remained for a few days, gaining what we so much needed, rest. The air was delightfully cool and refreshing, and it seemed as though each particular breath was laden with health and strength.
We were rejoiced to see some of our Army of the Potomac cavalry joining us, and our army began to assume dimensions which filled us with confidence. We had now the Sixth corps, General Wright, two divisions of the Nineteenth corps under General Emory, and Hunter's "Army of Virginia," usually called the Eighth corps, under command of General Crook. Our cavalry consisted of Averill's force which had been in the valley, and we were now receiving two divisions from the Army of the Potomac, one in command of General Torbert, the other of General Wilson. The cavalry force was soon afterward organized, with General Torbert in command of the whole force, and Generals Custer, Averill and Merritt, each in command of a division.
On the tenth of the month we commenced our march up the Shenandoah Valley. No sooner had the sun made its appearance above the Blue Ridge than we found the day to be most intensely hot. Soldiers were falling along the roadside in great numbers overcome with the heat, and what added to the hardships of the day's journey was the want of water. The turnpike along which we marched was parallel with a fine stream of water on either side, but the water was so far distant as to be useless to the soldiers. Yet there were a few springs and wells at some distance from the road which supplied those who could leave the column.
We passed through Charlestown, the scene of the trial and execution of John Brown. There was the court house to which he was brought on his couch to receive his trial for treason, and there the jail in which he spent his last days, and from which he was led to execution. How had all things changed! The people who stood about the gallows of John Brown, and gnashed their teeth in their bitter hatred, were now themselves guilty of treason. The court house was in ruins, and the jailwas but a shell of tottering walls. The town also had suffered fearful ravages from war, and now a Union army was marching through its streets, every band and every drum corps playing the stirring but to southern ears hateful air, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave," and we may anticipate our narrative to say that whenever our army or any part of it had occasion to pass through this town, the bands always struck up this air, as if to taunt the inhabitants with the memory of their victim, and played it from one limit of the town to the other. So John Brown was revenged!
The Shenandoah Valley has been often called the "Garden of Virginia," and truly it is a lovely valley, yet as we marched along we could see but little cultivation. The groves of oak were delightful. Teams with wagons might be driven anywhere among them. But the fields were mostly desolate. Here and there a field of corn promised a medium crop if left to ripen untrodden by our army, but there was no luxuriance of vegetation. The mountains, the Blue Ridge on one side and the North mountains on the other, rose abruptly from the valley in parallel lines, and looked as though a race of Titans had been at war, and had thrown up these long ridges as breastworks for opposing forces.
A little beyond Charlestown was a lovely meadow, lying between two groves of oak. At the further end of the meadow was a neat white cottage, where there seemed more comfort than we had seen elsewhere in the valley. The place was away from the direct line of march, and partly concealed by the groves.
Those who left the column were furnished by the family with pure sweet water from a well, which the family asserted was sunk by order of General Braddock. Such places were so rare that our men and animals suffered from thirst. Few who were on that march will forget aspring which we passed near the close of that day's march. A large white frame house stood upon an elevation, surrounded by trees, and at foot of the elevation, a large spring, under the shade of a huge willow, and surrounded by other trees. The water gushed out from a fissure in the rock, clear as crystal, and in such volume that a large brook was formed at once. Over the spring was the usual "spring house." Soldiers filled this building, covered the great rocks, crowded the grove, and for many yards around a dense mass of men pressed to get near the tempting fountain, all eager to fill their cups and canteens, and hasten on with the column. No one can know with what delight the soldiers quaffed the sparkling fluid from their sooty coffee pots, who has not suffered the torture of extreme thirst.
We halted near Clifton, and resumed our march on the following morning, to suffer, if possible, more from heat and thirst than ever. At night we bivouacked near Opequan creek. We threw ourselves upon the grassy sward, with the beautiful canopy of heaven with its mottled clouds and twinkling stars and flying meteors, for our tent. For many of us, this was the only tent we had slept under since leaving Petersburgh, and we were satisfied with it. The air was purer and the breeze fresher than when we were inclosed by canvas.
Again, on the morning of the 12th, we were marching. We passed through the villages of Newtown and Middletown, and halted at night on the banks of Cedar creek.
We were startled in the morning by the announcement of the death of a good soldier. John Mosher had marched with the column the day before, but owing to the overpowering heat was obliged to fall a little behind. Toward evening, finding himself too much exhausted to walk further, he applied for and obtained permission to ride in an ambulance of the First division.During the night he was found to be dying. The kind hearted surgeon in charge of the hospital of the First division, Dr. Crehore, and one of his assistants, spent some hours with him, using every means to restore him, but without avail. He died before morning. A letter in his pocket told his name and regiment. We made a grave near Cedar creek, and a few of his comrades stood around it while he was lowered to his bed of earth, wrapped in his blanket. The chaplain offered a brief prayer; his fellows in arms fired a parting salute, and we left him to sleep in the valley where, a few weeks later, some of his companions were to rest by his side.
On the 13th all the troops were across on the south side of Cedar creek. The pickets of our Second division occupied one end of the village of Strasburgh, while those of the enemy held the other. We were sure that we must fight here, and we were not unwilling. Our cavalry was scouting on the flanks, skirmishing with rebel cavalry and searching for a way to outflank Early's army. The rebels held a position of great strength, and to make a direct assault would be to run a great risk of a repulse. The walls of the valley, the Blue Ridge and the North Mountains, came close together here, and, to render the position stronger, Fisher Hill, a commanding eminence, a prominent object in the landscape, to be seen from one end of the valley to the other, rose directly in our front and obstructed our passage. Upon the declivities of this hill the enemy had planted batteries so as to command our approach from any direction.
We remained gazing at this strong position till nightfall, and then recrossed the river, and made our position strong for defense. General Sheridan had been instructed by General Grant not to bring on a general engagement unless it was forced upon him. General Grant regarded our army rather as one of defense than for offensive operations.Should we suffer defeat, the capital and the rich fields of Pennsylvania and Maryland would again be open to the rebels. So we were to watch their movements and hold them in check, but we were not to risk a battle with them.
Meanwhile, the ubiquitous Mosby was at work in our rear, at Berryville, with a band of guerrillas. He had made a bold dash upon a long train, belonging principally to the cavalry, and guarded by almost a brigade of hundred days' men; had dispersed the inexperienced guard, which was scattered along the road for miles; had captured the mules, and burned the wagons and supplies. Seventy-five wagons had fallen a prey to the adventurous bandit, while the hundred days' men had made good their escape. Old men, women and children, joined in the work of destruction, setting fire to the wagons, and carrying off whatever articles they could easily remove from them. Prisoners whom they captured were murdered, either by Mosby's band, or by the more merciless citizens, and left unburied.
This raid upon our communications led General Sheridan to fear a more general advance of the rebels beyond the mountains, with a view of coming with force upon our rear.
So, on the evening of Tuesday, the 16th, the army marched northward down the valley again. All night and all the next day the weary march was kept up. We went through Winchester, where the rebel women came out by hundreds to rejoice at our retreat, and halted on the banks of the Opequan for the night. Then, when the morning came, we were off again, and, after a severe march, formed in line of battle a mile south of Charlestown.
The Jersey brigade, under Colonel Penrose, was left as rear-guard and support to the cavalry on the retreat. At Winchester the brigade, flanked by cavalry, made astand. The enemy came down upon the brigade in large force, handled it roughly, and sent the Jersey boys through the town in confusion. Their resistance had been all that could have been asked; but the brigade, staunch as it was, was not enough for the force that came against it.
Our Sixth corps guarded the turnpike leading from Harper's Ferry to Winchester. On the left of the pike, facing southward, was our Second division, and on the right our First division.
The Eighth corps held the center of the line, and the Nineteenth corps the left, its flank resting on Berryville.
On Sunday morning, the 21st of August, our cavalry was driven back upon the infantry, and we suddenly discovered the enemy coming down upon the Sixth corps in three heavy columns. With scarcely any warning we found shells pitching into our camp among the standing tents, and bullets whistling among the trees that afforded us shelter from the sun.
The corps was quickly in line, the tents struck and everything in fighting trim. Our boys received the onset of the rebels with cool bravery, giving them back volley for volley. The fight was kept up for several hours, the Eighth corps being but slightly engaged, and the Nineteenth corps not at all. Our Second division, Sixth corps, receiving the weight of the attack. Our men threw up breastworks along the front, and at length the Vermont brigade was ordered to charge upon the enemy. The charge was executed with the usual brilliancy and fighting joy of that brigade and the confederates were glad to leave us in undisputed possession of the ground.
Encampment at Berryville—Leaving camp—The advance—Taking position—Advance and retreat—Death of Russell—"I know they'll run"—Reminiscences—At the hospitals—A regiment going home—"Why don't he come."
Encampment at Berryville—Leaving camp—The advance—Taking position—Advance and retreat—Death of Russell—"I know they'll run"—Reminiscences—At the hospitals—A regiment going home—"Why don't he come."
The rebels were repulsed; but as our position at Charlestown was one that might easily be flanked, our army fell back during the night to the strong position at Halltown, where defensive works were thrown up, and again we awaited the advance of the enemy; but except some skirmishing on the left of the line, no attack was ventured by Early; and after two or three days he withdrew to the vicinity of Winchester, and established his line along the west bank of Opequan creek, so as to cover the three roads leading from Martinsburgh, from Harper's Ferry and from Berryville to Winchester. We followed and established our line on the east side of the creek, and some miles from it, at Berryville.
Our encampment at Berryville was one of the most delightful of our resting places, even in the Shenandoah Valley. We passed the days pleasantly, strolling or riding among the groves of black walnut, visiting among the various regiments, amusing ourselves with chess and books. Nothing occurred to interrupt these pleasant pastimes and the monotony of picket duty until the 13th of September, when the Second division was directed to make a reconnoissance to the Opequan. We marched to the creek very early in the morning, found the enemy in force, lost a few men by the shells from the rebel batteries, and returned to camp.
On the 15th our army was visited by Lieutenant-General Grant. The story of his visit we give in his own words:
"I left City Point on the 15th to visit him (General Sheridan), at his head-quarters, to decide, after conference with him, what should be done. I met him at Charlestown, and he pointed out so distinctly how each army lay; what he could do the moment he was authorized, and expressed such confidence of success, that I saw there were but two words of instruction necessary—Go in!... I may here add that the result was such that I have never since deemed it necessary to visit General Sheridan before giving him orders."
Thus the two armies lay face to face, with the stream and a narrow strip of country between them, either able to bring on an engagement at any time. The quiet was broken on the morning of the 19th, when we advanced to win the first of that series of brilliant victories which startled Europe and America; which gave to our little army an enviable renown among the armies of the Union, and established the reputation of our chief as one of the foremost generals of the age.
Early had taken the initiative. On Sunday the 18th, he had sent General Gordon's division toward Martinsburgh, with orders to drive out the Union forces, and destroy the government property. Gordon was met by Averill's cavalry and driven back to Drakesville. Sheridan, discovering the mistake made by Early in separating his forces, was quick to avail himself of the advantage of his enemy's blunder. Orders were issued to move at once, but, for some reason, several hours elapsed before the army was ready.
We left our pleasant camps at Berryville, at two o'clock Monday morning, the Sixth corps in advance, moving in two columns, one on either side of the road, the ammunition wagons, artillery and ambulances taking the pike.The Third brigade, Second division, led the infantry. The Nineteenth corps followed the Sixth, marching in similar order, its infantry in the fields and its artillery and wagons on the pike, while Crook's Kanawha corps moved further to the south, with orders to connect with the Sixth corps at Opequan creek. Two divisions of cavalry, under Merritt and Averill, were directed to amuse the enemy near Bunker's Hill, and draw the attention of the rebel generals in that direction as much as possible. It was the design of General Sheridan thus to amuse the enemy on the left while he should march his army up the Berryville and Winchester pike, strike the right flank of Early's army, and by a sudden and unexpected attack, to get in the rear and cut off the retreat of the rebel forces. By one of those inexplicable mistakes, which sometimes upset the plans of our generals, this design was not fully realized, and had General Sheridan been less determined and less dashing, he might have abandoned the idea of attacking Early at all.
At five o'clock Wilson's cavalry had crossed the creek before us, having dispersed the pickets of the enemy, driving them back to their line of field works, and then, by a dashing charge, had leaped their horses over the breastworks of the first line of defenses, and routed the rebels, capturing about fifty of their number.
Immediately after this gallant exploit of the cavalry, the Sixth corps crossed the creek and advanced on the turnpike about a mile, where the enemy was found in force. As we moved along, through the deep ravine, following the pike, we were warned of the active work we might expect in front, as we saw cavalrymen coming to the rear, some leading their wounded horses, others with their heads bound in bloody handkerchiefs, some with arms hanging in slings, others borne on litters. Here by the roadside might be seen the prostrate, lifeless form of some soldierof the Union; there, where a silvery brook babbled along across the pike, on its grassy banks, and beneath the shadow of a large tree, was gathered a little group of boys in blue, performing the last acts of kindness to a comrade in whom the vital spark was almost extinguished, and a surgeon bending over the dying soldier striving to render less painful the few lingering moments of life.
We moved up a steep ascent and formed in line of battle in a cornfield; the Third brigade on the left, the First in the center, and the Vermonters on the right; then on the left of the Second division the Third division got into position, and the First division came up in the rear as reserve. Our artillery was brought into position and a vigorous shelling commenced on both sides.
The Sixth corps was now ready for a charge upon the enemy, but it was discovered that, by some misconception of orders, the Nineteenth corps, which should have been on the ground, was left far behind. Orders were dispatched to hasten it to the field of action, but two hours, precious hours to that army, elapsed before it was in position.
Those two hours of delay enabled Early to strengthen his right; to throw up strong earthworks, and bring Gordon's division on the run, to his assistance. We had been fortunate only in seizing the position on the west side of the stream, or the battle would, from this delay, have been worse for us.
Merritt and Averill, by skillfully maneuvering their troops in front of Bunker's Hill, had enabled us to seize this advantage.
The Nineteenth corps was formed on the right of the Sixth, in four lines of battle; Wilson's cavalry was on our left. It was eleven o'clock when the advance was sounded. In our front were undulating fields, traversed by deep ravines, almost stripped of timber, except where the rebels had formed their line of battle in a belt of woods thatskirted the turnpike. It was an imposing spectacle to watch that line of battle, stretching three miles across the fields, as it moved toward the rebel lines, the men as composed as though on parade, the line straight and compact, the various division, brigade and regimental flags floating gaily in the sunlight. Away in our front we could see Winchester; its gleaming spires and shining roofs, bright with the warm glow of mid-day, and we proudly felt that before night it would be ours. Onward, through the cornfields and over the grassy knolls, now descending into a ravine and now rising upon the open plain, where the rebel artillery swept with terrible effect, the long line pressed forward, regardless of the destructive fire that constantly thinned our ranks. At every step forward, men were dropping, dropping; some dead, some mortally hurt, and some with slight wounds. Now on this side, now on that they fell; still the line swept forward, leaving the ground behind it covered with the victims.
Thus we pushed onward, the rebels falling back, desperately disputing every step, when a murderous fire, from batteries which the enemy had skillfully placed, suddenly swept our right with fearful slaughter.
Thus far all had gone well. Now our hearts were sick as we looked far to the right and saw the Nineteenth corps and our Third division falling back, back, back, the grape and canister of the hostile cannon crashing through the now disordered ranks, and the exulting rebels following with wild yells of victory.
The retreat of the troops on the right of the Second division left its flank, held by the Vermonters, exposed, and they, too, were forced to fall behind the Third brigade, which still held its ground, the fire in its front being at the moment less severe. Our batteries were rushed forward, and the gallant First division, the noble Russell at its head, came bravely up to the rescue.
As the noble soldier brought his division into position a cannon ball swept him from his horse—dead. A great spirit had fallen, and in a moment we were made an army of mourners. "I have lost my captain," said Sheridan, as the work of the day closed.
We all remembered the modest, almost bashful, demeanor of the fallen general among his friends, and his glorious heroism in the presence of his enemies, and many tears moistened the brown cheeks of rough soldiers as they thought of the loss of one of our best beloved leaders.
But, notwithstanding the loss of their hero, the brave division pushed straight on. Nothing could withstand them; and now, joined by the other troops of the corps, the boys with the red crosses press on, and as the peals of musketry and artillery roll through those valleys, it tells of victory for the Union. The lost ground is regained, and now the fire in front of the Sixth corps slackens.
We rested, throwing ourselves on the ground, waiting for orders. Some of the men, fatigued from the early march and severe morning's work, slept; while others regaled themselves from their well filled haversacks; and many gathered in groups to talk over the doings of the morning, and to speak of those who had been stretched upon the sod, who had fallen with their faces to the foe.
We were waiting for Crook's corps. It had halted on the eastern bank of the river as reserve for the army. Now it was brought forward at quick pace and placed, a part on the right of the Nineteenth corps, where the rebels could be seen massing troops on their left, with a view of turning our right flank, the other part in rear of the Nineteenth corps. Averill and Merritt, too, were with the army, and our whole force was together. It was nearly three o'clock when Crook's forces were brought into position. His right was in a thick forest, and against him were heavy columns of rebels.
At length we, of the Sixth corps, heard rapid firing away on the right of the forest. All was attention. Every man stood to his arms ready to advance. Sheridan came to our part of the line. His face all aglow with excitement, the perspiration rolling down his forehead, his famous black steed spotted with white foam, a single orderly at his back. He rode straight to General Getty, exclaiming, "General, I have put Torbert on the right, and told him to give 'em h—l, and he is doing it. Crook, too, is on the right and giving it to them. Press them, General, they'll run!" and then, using one of those phrases sometimes employed in the army to give additional force to language, he shouted again, "Press them, General, I know they'll run!" And then the shout that went up from the men drowned all the other noise of the battle.
We did press them, and they did run. Over the long stretch of open plain, down into the deep hollow, up again and over the rolling ground, past the white farm house, on we went. The rebels would run, then reaching a commanding position, they would turn their artillery upon us and sweep our line with iron hail. On our left was Wilson, with the cavalry charging through the growing corn, the sabres gleaming in the sunlight, the iron scabbards clanging against iron spurs, the horses dashing madly forward in seeming disorder, but all rushing, like an avalanche, against the right wing of the enemy. Now the retreat became a rout. The cheers of the Union boys rose strong and clear above the roar of artillery and the harsh rattle of musketry, and Early's scattered and demoralized divisions were rushing through Winchester in consternation and unutterable confusion. Frightened teamsters were lashing their animals through the streets in greatest alarm; riderless horses were galloping here and there, and pack mules were on a general stampede. Some streets became entirely blocked up by the disordered mass, and even footmencould not press through; a squad of cavalry coming to one of these obstructions leaped from their horses and made their escape on foot. Our cavalry, taking advantage of the confusion, rushed among the panic stricken fugitives and gathered hundreds of them; captured fifteen battle-flags and five guns.
The remnants of the rebel army collected some miles beyond the town, and reformed; but after a short rest made haste to get farther up the valley. As we advanced we found the mountains full of fugitives, and in the town were thousands of their wounded.
The infantry halted upon the high grounds at the borders of the town, leaving the cavalry to follow up the pursuit of the flying foe; and as Generals Sheridan, Wright, Emory and Crook rode along our front, we made the welkin ring with lusty cheers. Glorious leaders of a victorious army!
At our feet was Winchester, the scene of Washington's early military experience. Here he was stationed during the French war, and shared in the perilous sentinelship of the frontier. For then the valley was ravaged by French and Indians, and fearful massacres were of frequent occurrence; and when Washington demanded of Governor Dinwiddie reinforcements, and was refused, he offered to resign; and when the governor could not allow him to resign he sent him men.
Here, on the ground occupied by the Seventy-seventh New York regiment, near the ruins of an old church, was the grave of General Daniel Morgan, the hero of Quebec and Saratoga, the friend of Washington. A plain marble tablet, broken across, now covered the grave, with a simple inscription, his name and the date of his death, 1802.
In the cemetery, still north, we saw, as we passed, the resting place of Thomas, Earl of Fairfax; a great tory in his day, and the owner of immense tracts of land in thispart of Virginia, and from whom Fairfax county took its name.
The sun had sunk to his golden rest behind the wall of hills on our left when we arrived at the outskirts of Winchester; and, as darkness set in, the infantry of our victorious army stretched themselves upon the ground to sleep. It had been a hard day's work, and the men were faint. It required no unusual inducements to woo the angel of sleep.
If the day had been an active one on the field, it had been no less so in the hospitals. First, early in the morning, came ambulance loads of men with white crosses; they were from the Third brigade, Second division, all from the Seventy-seventh New York. Then came others from the Forty-ninth New York, from the Seventh Maine, and from the One Hundred and Twenty-second and Forty-third New York. Then came men from the Vermont brigade, and from our First brigade, and soon the hospitals of the Third division began to be filled. Then, last of all, came the men of the red crosses, bleeding and mangled. Surgeons worked all day and all night. There was no rest as long as a wounded man was uncared for. Yet, when morning came, and the medical officers were ordered forward with the army, there was much to do, and faithful men were left to finish the needful task. Next morning Winchester was full of rebel wounded and rebel prisoners. Five thousand men in gray were under guard in the court house yard and other public places, and Colonel Edwards' brigade of the First division was left to take care of the prisoners and the town. Many brave men had fallen. Russell was gone; the gallant Upton was wounded; Colonel Elright, of the Third division, was dead, and many, many brave boys were lying with their blackened faces to the sun, a slip of paper or a letter envelope pinned to the breast of each to tell the buriers his name and regiment.