"Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,And we are graced with wreaths of victory;But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,That will encounter with our glorious sun."--SHAKESPEARE.
"Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,And we are graced with wreaths of victory;But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,That will encounter with our glorious sun."--SHAKESPEARE.
We left the position near Fairfax Court-House early in September, and marched northward, crossing the Potomac on the 5th at White's Ford near Edwards's Ferry. We reached Fredericktown in Maryland about midday of the 6th, after a fatiguing tramp which, for the time, was too hard for me. My wound had again given me trouble; while wading the Potomac I noticed fresh blood on the scar.
We rested at Fredericktown for three or four days. One morning Owens of Company H, while quietly cooking at his fire, suddenly fell back and began kicking and foaming at the mouth. We ran to him, but could do nothing to help him. He struggled for a few moments and became rigid. Some man ran for the surgeon; I thought there was no sense in going for help when all was over. The surgeon came and soon got Owens upon his feet. This incident made a deep impression on me. It seemed a forcible illustration of the trite sayings: "Never give up," "While there's life there's hope," and it became to me a source of frequent encouragement.
On the 10th we marched westward from Fredericktown. In the gap of the Catoctin Mountains we came in sight of the most beautiful valley, dotted with farms and villages. Where the enemy was, nobody seamed to know.
We passed through Middletown and Boonsboro, and recrossed the Potomac at Williamsport, where we learned definitely that Longstreet's wing of the army had been held in Maryland. We marched southward to Martinsburg. The inhabitants were greatly rejoiced, and were surprised to find Confederate troops coming amongst them from the north. At Martinsburg were many evidences that we were near the enemy. Captain Haskell said that it was now clear that Lee intended to take Harper's Ferry, and that Longstreet's retention on the north side of the Potomac was part of the plan. We destroyed the railroad near Martinsburg, moving along it toward the east. Late in the forenoon of the 13th we came in sight of Harper's Ferry. The short siege of the place had already been begun; cannon from our front and from a mountain side on our right were throwing shells into the enemy's lines, and the enemy's batteries were replying.
On the night of the 14th Gregg's brigade marched to the right. We found a narrow road running down the river,--the Shenandoah,--and moved on cautiously. There were strict orders to preserve silence. The guns were uncapped, to prevent an accidental discharge. In the middle of the night we moved out of the road and began to climb the hill on our left; it was very steep and rough; we pulled ourselves up by the bushes. Pioneers cut a way for the artillery, and lines of men drew the guns with ropes.
When morning came our guns commanded the intrenchments of the enemy. Our batteries were in full action, the brigade in line of battle. The enemy replies with all his guns, but they were soon silenced. A brigade at our left seemed ready to advance; the enemy's artillery opened afresh. Then from our left a battery stormed forward to a new position much nearer to the enemy. We were ordered to fix bayonets and the line began to advance, but was at once halted. Harper's Ferry had been surrendered, with eleven thousand prisoners and seventy pieces of artillery, and munitions in great quantity.
We had been hearing at intervals, for the last day or two, far-off sounds of artillery toward the north. On the night after the surrender, A.P. Hill's men knew that theirs was the only division at Harper's Ferry, the two other divisions of Jackson's corps having marched away, some said to the help of Longstreet on the north side of the Potomac; then we felt that some great event was near, and we wondered whether it should befall us to remain distant from the army during a great engagement.
The 16th passed tranquilly. Sounds of artillery could be heard in the north and northwest, but we had nothing to do but to rest in position while our details worked in organizing the captured property. The prisoners were not greatly downcast. We learned that they were to be released on parole. Crowds of them had gathered along the roads on the 15th to see Stonewall Jackson whenever he rode by, and they seemed to admire him no less than his own men did. Late in the afternoon the regiment marched out of the lines of Harper's Ferry and bivouacked for the night some two miles to the west of the town.
On the 17th the division was put in motion on a road running up the Potomac. The march began, at sunrise. Soon the sounds of battle were heard far in front, and the step was lengthened. The day was hot, and the road was dusty. Frequently we went at double-quick. About one o'clock we waded the Potomac below Shepherdstown. Beyond the river the march turned northeast--a rapid march; many men had fallen out before we reached the river; now many more began to straggle. All the while the roar of a great battle extended across our front, mostly in our left front. We passed through a village called Sharpsburg. Its streets were encumbered with wagons, ambulances, stragglers, wounded men, and all the horrid results of war that choke the roads in rear of an army engaged in a great battle.
Beyond the village we turned to the right. We marched up one side of a hill and down the other side. On the slope of the opposite hill we halted, some of the troops being protected by a stone fence. The noise of battle was everywhere, and increasing at our right, almost on our right flank. Wounded men were streaming by; the litter-bearers were busy. Nothing is so hard to bear as waiting while in expectation of being called on to restore a lost battle from which the wounded and dead are being carried. Our time was near.
Thick corn was growing on the hillside above us. General Gregg dismounted. His orders reached our ears and were repeated by the colonels and the captains. We were to advance.
While Jackson had marched south from Maryland in order to effect the capture of Harper's Ferry, Longstreet had retired before McClellan, who had collected an immense army and had advanced. The North had risen at the first news that Lee had crossed the Potomac and McClellan's army, vast as it was, yet continued to receive reinforcements almost daily; his army was perhaps stronger than it had been before his disastrous campaign of the Chickahominy, his troops on James River had marched down the Peninsula and had been taken in transports to Fredericksburg and Alexandria. Porter's and Heintzelman's corps of McClellan's army had fought under Pope in the second battle of Manassas. Now McClellan had his own army, Pope's army, Burnside's corps, and all other troops that could be got to his help. To delay this army until Jackson could seize Harper's Ferry had been the duty intrusted to Longstreet and his lieutenants. But Longstreet with his twenty thousand were now in danger of being overwhelmed. On the 15th, in the afternoon of the surrender at Harper's Ferry, two of Jackson's divisions had marched to reënforce Longstreet. Had not time been so pressing, Hill's division would not have been ordered to assault the works at Harper's Ferry--an assault which was begun and which was made unnecessary by the surrender.
McClellan knew the danger to Harper's Ferry and knew of the separation of the Confederate forces. A copy of General Lee's special order outlining his movements had fallen into General McClellan's hands. This order was dated September 9th; it gave instructions to Jackson to seize Harper's Ferry, and it directed the movements of Longstreet. With this information, General McClellan pressed on after Longstreet; he ordered General Franklin to carry Crampton's Gap and advance to the relief of Harper's Perry.
On Sunday, the 14th, McClellan's advanced divisions attacked D.H. Hill's division in a gap of South Mountain, near Boonsboro, and Franklin carried Crampton's Gap, farther to the south. Though both of these attacks were successful, the resistance of the Confederates had in each case been sufficient to gain time for Jackson. On the 15th Harper's Ferry surrendered, and McClellan continued to advance; Longstreet prepared for battle.
The next day, at nightfall, the Federals were facing Lee's army, the Antietam creek flowing between the hostile ranks.
At 3 P.M. of the 17th, A.P. Hill's division, after a forced march of seventeen miles, and after fording the Potomac, found itself in front of the left wing of the Federal army,--consisting of Burnside's corps,--which had already brushed away the opposition in its front, and was now advancing to seize the ford at Shepherdstown and cut off Lee from the Potomac.
A.P. Hill rode into battle at the head of his division. The few brigades which, had been opposed to Burnside had offered a stout resistance, but, too weak to resist long, had fallen back to our right. Into the gap we were ordered. In the edge of the corn a rabbit jumped up and ran along in front of the line; a few shots were fired at it by some excited men on our left. These shots seemed the signal for the Federals to show themselves; they were in the corn, advancing upon us while we were moving upon them. There were three lines of them. Our charge broke their first line; it fell back on the second and both ran; the third line stood. We advanced through the corn, firing and shouting. The third line fired, then broke; now we stood where it had stood, on the top of the hill. A descending slope was before us, then a hollow--- also in thick corn--and an open ascent beyond. Behind the brow of this next hill a Federal battery made its presence felt by its fire only, as the guns and men were almost entirely covered. This battery was perhaps four hundred yards from us, and almost directly in front of the left wing of the First. The corn on our slope and in the hollow was full of Federals running in disorder. We loaded and fired, and loaded and fired. Soon the naked slope opposite was dotted with fleeing men. We loaded and fired, and loaded and fired.
In a thick row of corn at the bottom of the hill I saw a bayonet glitter. The bayonet was erect, at the height of the large blades of corn. The owner of the bayonet had squatted in the corn; he was afraid to run out upon the naked hillside behind him, and he had not thought too well. He had kept his gun in his hand, with the butt on the ground, and the sun's rays betrayed him. Nothing could be seen but the bayonet. I fired at the ground below the bayonet. The bayonet fell.
An officer was riding back and forth on the open hillside, a gallant officer rallying his men. None would stop; it was death to stop. He threatened, and almost struck the men, but they would run on as soon as his back was turned. They were right to run at this moment, and he was wrong in trying to form on the naked slope. Beyond the hilltop was the place to rally, and the men knew it, and the gallant officer did not. He rode from group to group of fleeing men as they streamed up the hill. He was a most conspicuous target. Many shots were fired at him, but he continued to ride and to storm at the men and to wave his sword. Suddenly his head went down, his body doubled up, and he lay stretched on the ground. The riderless horse galloped off a few yards, then returned to his master, bent his head to the prostrate man, and fell almost upon him.
The Federal infantry could now be seen nowhere in our front. On our left they began to develop and to advance, and on the right the sound of heavy fighting was yet heard. The enemy continued to develop from our left until they were uncovered in our front. They advanced, right and left; just upon our own position the pressure was not yet great, but we felt that the Twelfth regiment, which joined us on our left, must soon yield to greatly superior numbers, and would carry our flank with it when it went. The fight now raged hotter than before. I saw Captain Parker, of Company K, near to us. His face was a mass of blood--his jaw broken. The regiment was so small that, although Company H was on its left, I saw Sam Wigg, a corporal of the colour-guard, fall--death in his face. Then the Twelfth South Carolina charged, and for a while the pressure upon us was relieved; but the Twelfth charged too far, and, while driving the enemy in its front, was soon overlapped, and flanked. Upon its exposed flank the bullets fell and it crumbled; in retiring, it caught the left of the First, and Company H fell back. Now the enemy moved on the First from the front and the regiment retired hastily through the corn, and formed easily again at the stone fence from which it had advanced at the beginning of the contest. The battle was over. The enemy came no farther, and the fords of the Potomac remained to Lee.
All the night of the 17th and the day of the 18th we lay in position. A few shells flew over us at irregular intervals, and we were in hourly expectation of a renewal of the battle, but the Federals did not advance. By daylight on the morning of the 19th we were once more in Virginia.
While A.P. Hill's division had suffered but small loss in the battle of Sharpsburg, and while our part in the battle had been fortunate, it was clear that Lee's army as a whole had barely escaped a great disaster. I have always thought that McClellan had it in his power on the 18th of September to bring the war to an end. Lee had fought the battle with a force not exceeding forty thousand men, and had lost nearly a third. McClellan, on the 18th, was fully three times as strong as Lee; but he waited a full day, and gave the Confederates opportunity to cross, almost leisurely, the difficult river in their rear.
A.P. Hill's division went into bivouac some five miles south of Shepherdstown.
On the morning of the 20th the warning rumble of the long roll called us once again to action. We were marched rapidly back to the Potomac. Firing could be heard in front, and wounded men could be seen here and there. Men said that in the night McClellan had thrown a force to the south side of the river, and had surprised and taken some of our artillery. As we drew near the river, we could see the smoke of cannon in action spouting from the farther side, and from our side came the crackling of musketry fire.
The division was formed for battle; we were to advance in two lines of three brigades each, General Gregg in command of the first line. Orr's Rifle regiment was thrown forward as skirmishers and advanced to the river bank. The division moved behind the skirmishers. The ground was open. We marched down a slope covered with corn in part, and reached a bare and undulating field that stretched to the trees bordering the river. As soon as the division had passed the corn, the Federal batteries north of the Potomac began to work upon our ranks. The first shots flew a little above us. We were marching at a quick time, keeping well the alignment. The next shots struck the ground in front of us and exploded--with what effect I could not see. And now the enemy had our range and made use of the time. Before us, about three hundred yards, was a depression of the ground, with a low ascending hill beyond. Shells burst over us, beyond us, in front of us, amongst us, as we marched on at quick time. We reached the hollow and were ordered to lie down. The sun was oppressive. The troops had scant room in the hollow; they hugged the earth thick. Shells would burst at the crown of the low hill ten steps in front and throw iron everywhere. The aim of the Federal gunners was horribly true.
We were cramped with lying long in one position; no water. Behind us came a brigade down the slope--flags flying, shells bursting in the ranks. Down the hill that we had come they now were coming in their turn, losing men at every step. The shells flew far above us to strike this new and exposed line. Behind us came the brigade; right against Company H came the centre of a regiment. The red flag was marching straight. The regiment reached our hollow; there was no room; it flanked to the left by fours; a shell struck the colour-group; the flag leaped in the air and fell amongst four dead men. A little pause, and the flag was again alive, and the regiment had passed to the left, seeking room.
For hours we lay under the hot sun and the hotter fire. The fight had long since ended, but we were held fast by the Federal batteries. To rise and march out would be to lose many men uselessly.
A shell burst at the top of the rise. Another came, and I felt my hat fly off; it was torn on the edge of the brim. Again, and a great pain seized my shoulder and a more dreadful one my hip. I was hit, but how badly I did not know. The pain in my hip was such agony that I feared to look. Since our great loss at Manassas, I was the tallest man in Company H, and the Captain was lying very near to me. I said to him that I was done for. "What!" said he, "again? You must break that habit, Jones." I wanted to be taken out, but could not ask it. What with the danger and the heat and the thirst and pain, I was unnerved and afraid to look. Perhaps I lost consciousness for a time; the pain had decreased. At last I looked, and I saw--nothing! I examined, and found a great contusion, and that was all. I was happy--the only happy man in the regiment, for the cannon on the hills beyond the river had not lessened their fire, and the sun was hot, and the men were suffering.
As the darkness gathered, the regiment filed out and marched back to bivouac. I limped along and kept up. We got water and food and, at length, rest; and sleep banished the fearful memory of a fearful day.
In the fight at Shepherdstown the Confederate infantry drove the Federals to the river bank, where many surrendered. Some succeeded in getting across to the northern bank, but most of those who attempted the crossing were lost. It was said in Lee's army--- but with what truth I do not know--that blue corpses floated past Washington.
After this fight Lee was not molested. Jackson camped his corps near Martinsburg, and a week later moved to Bunker Hill, where water was plentiful.
From the 25th of June to the 20th of September--eighty-seven days--the Army of Northern Virginia had made three great campaigns: first, that of the week in front of Richmond; second, that of Manassas; third, that of Harper's Ferry and Sharpsburg. The Confederates had been clearly victorious in the first two, and had succeeded in the last in withdrawing with the fruits of Harper's Ferry, and with the honours of a drawn battle against McClellan's mighty army.
"King John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.King Philip. Excuse; it is to put usurping down."--SHAKESPEARE.
"King John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.King Philip. Excuse; it is to put usurping down."--SHAKESPEARE.
All of the month of October, 1862, Jackson's corps remained near Bunker Hill, in the valley of the Shenandoah. It was here that we learned of Lincoln's proclamation freeing the slaves. A few copies of it were seen in our camp--introduced, doubtless, by some device of the enemy. Most of the officers and men of Company H were not greatly impressed by this action on the part of the Northern President. I have reason to know, however, that Captain Haskell regarded the proclamation a serious matter. One day I had heard two men of our company--Davis and Stokes--talking.
"I wonder why Jones never gets any letters," said Stokes.
"Have you noticed that?" asked Davis.
"Yes; haven't you?"
"Yes; but I thought it was none of my business."
"Have you ever seen him write any letters?"
"No; I haven't, except for somebody else; he writes letters for Limus and Peagler."
Limus was a negro, Lieutenant Barnwell's servant. Peagler was one of Company H, and a valuable member of the infirmary corps, but he could not write.
The talk of the men had made me gloomy. I sought Captain Haskell, and unburdened to him. The Captain's manner toward me had undergone a modification that was very welcome to me; his previous reserve, indicated by formal politeness, had given place to a friendly interest, yet he was always courteous.
"I would do anything to relieve you," said he, "but of course you do not wish me to speak to the men about you."
"Certainly not, sir" said I; "that would only make matters worse."
"Have you ever yet heard from the hotel at Aiken?"
"Not a word, sir."
"I suppose the hotel has changed hands; or perhaps it has ceased to exist."
"Possibly so, Captain. Has anything been learned as to the Fourth South Carolina?"
"Only that it is yet in this army--in Jenkins's brigade. I think nothing further has resulted. Aleck will ask very prudently if such a man as Jones Berwick, or Berwick Jones, is missing from that regiment. We shall know in a few days."
"I suppose we shall know before we march again," said I.
"Probably. We shall hardly move before the Federals do. McClellan is giving us another display of caution, sir."
"I think he ought to have advanced on the 18th of last month," said I.
"True," said Captain Haskell; "he missed his chance."
"Why does he not advance now?" I asked.
"He takes time to get ready, I judge. There is one thing to be said for McClellan: he will do nothing rashly; and he has considerable nerve, as is shown by his resistance to popular clamour, and even to the urgency of the Washington authorities. The last papers that we have got hold of show that Lincoln is displeased with his general's inactivity. By the way, the war now assumes a new aspect."
"In what respect, Captain?"
"Lincoln's emancipation order will make it impossible for the North to compromise. He is a stronger man than I thought him, sir. He burns his bridges."
"But will not the proclamation cause the South to put forth greater effort?"
"Pardon me," said he. "It will cause the slaveholders to feel more strongly; but it will cause also many non-slaveholding men, such as are in our mountain districts and elsewhere, to believe, after a while, that the South is at war principally to maintain slavery, and in slavery they feel no interest at stake. In such conditions the South can do no more than she is now doing. She may continue to hold her present strength for a year or two more, but to increase it greatly seems to me beyond our ability. The proclamation will effectually prevent any European power from recognizing us. We must look for no help, and must prepare to endure a long war."
"Can we not defend ourselves as long as the North, can continue a war of invasion?"
"A good question, sir. Of course aggression is more costly than defence. But one trouble with us is that we rarely fight a defensive battle. Lee's strategy is defensive, but his tactics are just the reverse. The way to win this war, allow me to say, is to fight behind trees and rocks and hedges and earthworks: never to risk a man in the open except where absolutely necessary, and when absolute victory is sure. To husband her resources in men and means is the South's first duty, sir. I hope General Lee will never fight another offensive battle."
"But are not the armies of the enemy strong enough to outflank any line of intrenchments that we might make?"
"True; but in doing so they would present opportunities which skilful generalship would know how to seize. If no such opportunities came, I would have the army to fall back and dig again."
"Then it would be but a matter of time before we should come to the last ditch," said I.
"Pardon me; the farther they advanced, the more men would they need. Of course there would come a limit, at least a theoretical limit. It might be said that we could not fall back and leave our territory, which supplies our armies, in the hands of the enemy. But to counteract this theory we have others. Disease would tell on the enemy more than on ourselves. Our interior lines would be shortened, and we could reënforce easily. The enemy, in living on our country, would be exposed to our enterprises. His lines of communication would always be in danger. And he would attack. The public opinion of the North would compel attack, and we should defeat attacks and lose but few men."
Captain Haskell had no hope that there would be any such change in the conduct of the war. He seemed depressed by Mr. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, which, he saw, would effectually put an end to hope of aid or intervention from Europe. His hope in the success of the South was high, however. The North might be strong, but the South had the righteous cause. He was saddened by the thought that the war would be a long one, and that many men must perish.
I had read much from books borrowed from other men in my spare time, from newspapers, and from magazines; and my questions had led Captain Haskell to talk for half an hour, perhaps more freely than he thought.
He told me to say nothing to the men concerning the prospect for a long war. He seemed serious rather than gloomy. For my part, it mattered little that the war should be long. I had almost ceased to expect any discovery of my former home and friends, and the army seemed a refuge. What would become of me if the war should end suddenly? I did not feel prepared for any work; I know no business or trade. Even if I had one, it would be tame after Lee's campaigns.
"What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,The feast of vultures, and the waste of life?The varying fortune of each separate field,The fierce that vanquish, and the faint that yield?"--BYRON.
"What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,The feast of vultures, and the waste of life?The varying fortune of each separate field,The fierce that vanquish, and the faint that yield?"--BYRON.
Longstreet's corps had marched out by the Valley, and now occupied a line east of the Blue Ridge; Jackson remained yet at Bunker Hill. We heard that Burnside had superseded McClellan; speculation was rife as to the character of the new commander. It was easy to believe that the Federal army would soon give us work to do; its change of leaders clearly showed aggressive purpose, McClellan being distinguished more for caution than for disposition to attack.
On November 22d we moved southward, up the Shenandoah Valley. The march lasted many days. We passed through Winchester, Strasburg, Woodstock, and turned eastward through Massanutten Gap, and marched to Madison Court-House. From Madison we marched to Orange, and finally to Fredericksburg, where the army was again united by our arrival on December 3d. The march had been painful. For part of the time I had been barefoot. Many of the men were yet without shoes.
The weather was now cold. Snow fell. I was thinly clad. On the morning of December 4th, after a first night in bivouac in the lines, I awoke with a great pain in my chest and a "gone" feeling generally. The surgeon told me that I had typhoid pneumonia, and ordered me to the camp hospital, which consisted of two or three Sibley tents in the woods. I was laid on a bed of straw and covered with blankets.
I lay in the camp hospital until the morning of the 14th. How far off the regiment was I do not know; however, one or two men of Company H came to see me every day and attended to my wants. On the 11th two of them came and told me good-by; they were ordered to march; the enemy was crossing the river and was expected to attack. These men told me afterward that when they said good-by they felt they were saying the long farewell; I was not expected to recover.
On the 13th, flat on my back, I heard the battle of Fredericksburg roaring at the front, some two or three miles away, I was too ill to feel great interest. On the 14th, early in the morning, I was lifted into an open wagon and covered with a single blanket. In this condition I was jolted to a place called Hamilton's Crossing. There I was lifted out of the wagon and laid upon the ground. There were others near me, all lying on the ground. In many places the ground was white with snow; the wind cut like a blade of ice; I was freezing. At about two o'clock some men put me into a car--a common box freight-car, which had no heat and the doors of which were kept open. After a while the car started. At twelve o'clock that night the train reached Richmond. Some men put me into an ambulance. I was taken to Camp Winder Hospital, several miles out, which place was reached about two o'clock in the morning of the 15th. That I survived that day--the 14th,--has always been a wonder,
I was put to bed. There were many beds in the ward. In the middle of the ward, which was about sixty feet long by thirty wide, was a big stove, red-hot, and around the stove was a circle of people--women-nurses and stewards, and perhaps some convalescing patients--singing religious songs. There was a great open space between the red-hot stove and the people around it. I wanted to lie in that open space.
I succeeded in getting out of bed; then I crawled on the floor until I was within a few feet of the stove. The singing stopped. "You'll burn to death," said a woman. I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep.
For three or four weeks I lay in bed in Camp Winder. Not an incident occurred. I received no letters. I had hoped that some man in the company would write to me. I heard of nothing but general affairs. The army had gained a victory over Burnside. I had known that fact on the night of the 14th. I knew, also, that General Gregg had been killed. The papers that I saw gave me some of the details of the battle, but told me nothing of the position of the army, except that it was yet near Fredericksburg. I did not know where Company H was, and I learned afterward that nobody in Company H knew what had become of me.
The monotony of hospital life became intolerable. My recovery was slow and my impatience great. When I felt my strength begin to return, I wrote to Captain Haskell. No answer came. Before the end of February I had demanded my papers and had started for the army yet near Fredericksburg. Transportation by rail was given me to a station called Guiney's, from which place I had to walk some nine or ten miles. I found Company H below Fredericksburg and back from the river. Captain Haskell was not with the company. He had been ordered on some special duty to South Carolina, and returned to us a week later than my arrival. Many of the men--though all of twenty-six men could hardly be said to be many--had thought that I was dead, as nothing had been heard of me since the battle of Fredericksburg.
When Captain Haskell returned, he showed wonderful cheerfulness for so serious a man. He was greatly encouraged because General Lee had fought at Fredericksburg a purely defensive battle--behind breastworks--and had lost but few men. The worst loss in the whole army had been caused by a mistake of our own officers, who refused to allow their men to fire upon a line of Yankees until almost too late, believing them to be Confederates. It was through this error that General Gregg, for whom the camp of the army was named, had lost his life.
Company H was in small huts made of poles and roofed variously--some with cloth or canvas, others with slabs or boards rudely riven from the forest trees. We had camp guard to mount and picket duty occasionally.
The remainder of the winter passed without events of great importance. Adjutant Haskell had learned that no man missing from the Fourth South Carolina, which had suffered such losses that it had been reorganized as a battalion, fitted with my description or with either of my names. I spent much time in reading the books which passed from man to man in the company.
At this period of my service I was in good health and somewhat more cheerful than I had been previously. The woods had begun to show signs of Spring. The snow had disappeared, and early in April the weather became mild. To say that I was content would be to say what is untrue, but I felt that my condition had much of solace. I knew that I had a friend in Captain Haskell--a man whom I admired without reservation, and whose favours were extended to me freely--I mean to say personal, not official, favours. The more I learned of this high-minded man, the more did the whole world seem to me brighter and less deserving of disregard. He was a patriot. An heir to an estate of many slaves, he was at war for a principle of liberty; he was ready at any time to sacrifice personal interest to the furtherance of the common cause of the South. In battle he was strong, calm, unutterably dignified. Battle, it seemed to me, was considered by him as a high, religious service, which he performed ceremonially. Nothing could equal the vigorous gravity of his demeanour when leading his men in fight. His words were few at such times; he was the only officer I ever knew void absolutely of rant in action. Others would shout and scream and shriek their orders redundant and unwholesome; Haskell's eye spoke better battle English than all their distended throats. He was merciful and he was wise.
On the 28th of April, 1863, we were ordered to have three days' cooked rations in our haversacks, and to be prepared to move at a moment's notice.
The next day at ten o'clock the men left their huts and fell into ranks. We marched to Hamilton's Crossing--some six miles--and formed in line of battle, and began to throw up breastworks. The enemy was in our front, on our side of the Rappahannock, and we learned that he had crossed in strong force up the river also. We faced the Yankees here for two days, but did not fire a shot.
Before dawn on Friday, May 1st, we were in motion westward--up the river. At noon we could hear skirmishing and cannon in our front. The sounds at first went from us, but at two o'clock they increased in volume. We were pressed forward; again the noise of the fight began to die away. The enemy were retiring before our advanced troops. Night came on, and we lay on our arms, expecting the day to bring battle.
The morning brought Jackson's famous flank march to the left of Hooker's army. At first we moved southward under a sharp fire of artillery from which we seemed to retreat; the men thought the movement was retreat, and it is no wonder that Hooker thought so; but suddenly our march broke off toward the west, and the men could not conceal their joy over what they were now beginning to understand. Frequently, on that day, Jackson was seen riding past the marching lines to the head of his column, or halted with his staff to see his troops hastening on.
Late in the afternoon our column was halted on the turnpike. Our backs were toward the sunset. Two other divisions were in line of battle in our front. We moved along the road at supporting distance.
Shots rang out in the woods in front, and in another instant the roar of the charging yell mingled with the crash of continuous musketry. There was no pause in the advance. Both lines ahead of us had swept on. We followed, still in column of fours upon the road, which was almost blocked by a battery of artillery.
Soon we found the road full of the signs of battle. On our right was open ground--to the south; facing this open space was a breastwork from which the enemy had just been driven, leaving wounded and dead, their muskets, accoutrements, cooking utensils yet upon the fires, blankets, knapsacks--everything.
We continued to advance. Our first and second lines having become intermingled, needed time to restore their ranks. Hill's division now formed the first line of battle.
It was now dark, and no enemy could be seen. Their guns in the distance told us, however, that they had made a stand. We again went forward. Near the enemy's second line of intrenchments we were halted in the thick woods.
The battle seemed to have ended for the night. In our front rose a moon, the like of which was never seen. Almost completely full and in a cloudless sky, she shown calmly down on the men of two armies yet lingering in the last struggles of life and death. Here and there a gun broke the silence, as if to warn us that all was not peace; now and then a film of cannon smoke drifted across the moon, which seemed to become piteous then. There was silence in the ranks.
The line was lying down, ready, however, and alert. At about nine o'clock a sharp rattle of rifles was heard at our left--about where Lane's brigade was posted, as we thought--and soon a mournful group of men passed by us, bearing the outstretched form of one whom we knew to be some high officer. Jackson had been shot dangerously by one of Lane's regiments--the Eighteenth North Carolina.
General A.P. Hill now commanded the corps. Again all was silent, and the line lay down, as it hoped, for the night. All at once there came the noise of a gun, and another, and of a whole battery, and many batteries, and fields and woods were alive with shells and canister. More than forty pieces of cannon had been massed in our front. We lay and endured the fire. General Hill was wounded, and at midnight General Stuart of the cavalry took command of the corps. At last the cannon hushed. The terrible night passed away without sleep.
At eight o'clock on Sunday morning the Light Division, under command of General Pender, assaulted the intrenchments of the enemy. Our brigade succeeded in getting into the works; but on our right the enemy's line still held, and as it curved far to the west it had us in flank and rear. A new attack at this moment by the troops on our right would have carried the line; the attack was not made. We were compelled to abandon the breastworks and run for the woods, where we formed again at once.
And now another brigade charged, and was driven back by an enfilade fire.
At ten o'clock a third and final charge was made along the whole line; the intrenchments were ours, and Chancellorsville was won.
Company H had lost many men; Pinckney Seabrook, a most gallant officer, had fallen dead, shot by some excited man far in our rear.
We moved no farther in advance. The scattered lines re-formed, and were ready to go forward and push the Federals to the Rappahannock, but no orders came. General Lee had just received intelligence of the second battle of Fredericksburg. The enemy, under Sedgwick, had taken the heights above the town, and were now advancing against our right flank. Our division, and perhaps others, held the field of Chancellorsville, while troops were hurried east to face Sedgwick. Before the close of the 4th the Federals near Fredericksburg had been forced to retire to the north bank of the Rappahannock. By the morning of the 6th all of Hooker's army had recrossed the river.
Chancellorsville is considered Lee's greatest victory, because of the enormous odds he fought. Longstreet, with two of his divisions, was not at Chancellorsville, but was at Suffolk opposing the Federals under Peck. Hooker's army had numbered a hundred and thirty thousand, while Lee had less than sixty thousand men.
We marched back to our huts below Fredericksburg. A few days later we learned that the most illustrious man in the South was dead. No longer should we follow Stonewall Jackson.
The two corps of the army were formed into three--Longstreet's the first, Ewell's the second, and A.P. Hill's the third. Our General Gregg had been killed at Fredericksburg, and we were now McGowan's brigade. Our General Jackson had fallen at Chancellorsville, and we were now in the corps of A.P. Hill, whose promotion placed four brigades of our division under General Pender. Letters received by Company H a few weeks before had been addressed to Gregg's brigade, A.P. Hill's division, Jackson's corps; letters received now were addressed to McGowan's brigade, Pender's division, A.P. Hill's corps. But why do I talk of letters?
Shortly after our return to the old camp, by order of General Pender, a battalion of sharp-shooters was formed in each brigade of his division. Two or three men were taken from each, company--from the large companies three, from the small ones two. Our brigade had five regiments of ten companies each, so that McGowan's battalion of sharp-shooters was to be composed of about a hundred and twenty men. General McGowan chose Captain Haskell as the commander of the battalion. When I heard of this appointment, I went to the Captain and begged to go with him. He said, "I had already chosen you, Jones," and I felt happy and proud. When the battalion was drawn up for the first time, orders were read showing the organization of the command. There were to be three companies, each under a lieutenant. I was in Company A, with the other men from the First. Gus Rhodes, a sergeant in Company H, was named orderly-sergeant of Company A of the battalion, and Private B. Jones was named second sergeant. For a moment I wondered who this B. Jones was, and then it came upon me that no one could be meant except myself.
After the ranks broke I went to the Captain. He smiled at my approach. "You deserved it, Jones; at least I think so. I don't know the other men, and I do know you."
I stammered some reply, thanking him for his goodness toward me, and started to go away.
"Wait," said he, "I want to talk to you. Do you know the men of the company?"
"No, sir; only a few of them; but the few I know know the others and say they are good men."
"No doubt they have been well proved in the line," said he; "but you know that Company C and Company H have thus far had to do almost all the skirmishing for the regiment, and we have only four or five men in the battalion out of those companies. It is one thing, to be a good soldier in the line and another thing to be a good skirmisher."
"I suppose so, Captain," said I; "but it seems to me that anybody would prefer being in the battalion."
"No, not anybody," said the Captain; "it shows some independence of mind to prefer it. A man willing to lean on others will not like the battalion. Our duties will be somewhat different for the future. The men get their rations and their pay through their original companies, but are no longer attached to them otherwise. On the march and in battle they will serve as a distinct command, and will be exposed to many dangers that the line of battle will escape, though the danger, on the whole, will be lessened, I dare say, especially for alert men who know how to seize every advantage. But the most of the men have not been trained for such service. As a body, we have had no training at all. We must begin at once, and I expect you to hold up your end of Company A."
"I will do my best, Captain," said I.
"Come to my quarters to-night," said he; "I want you to do some writing for me."
That night a programme of drill exercises for the battalion was prepared, and day after day thereafter it was put into practice. We drilled and drilled; company drill as skirmishers; battalion drill as skirmishers; estimating distances; target firing, and all of it.
Early in June Hill's corps alone was holding the line at Fredericksburg. Ewell and Longstreet had marched away toward the Shenandoah Valley, and onward upon the road that ends at Cemetery Hill. The Federals again crossed the Rappahannock, but in small bodies. Their army was on the Falmouth Hills beyond the river.
On the 6th the battalion was ordered to the front. We took our places--five steps apart--in a road running down the river. On either side of the road was a dry ditch with a bank of earth thrown up, and with trees growing upon the bank, so that the road was a fine shaded avenue. In front, and on our side of the river, was a Federal skirmish-line--five hundred yards from us.
Firing began. The Yankees were screened from view by bushes in the low ground between us and the river. Much tall grass, woods, and broom-sedge covered the unwooded space between the opposing lines; rarely could a man be seen. Our men stood in the dry ditch and fired above the bank, which formed a natural breastwork. At my place, on the left of Company A, a large tree was growing upon the bank. I was standing behind this tree; a bullet struck it. The firing was very slow--men trying to pick a target. When the bullet struck the tree, I saw the smoke of a gun rise from behind a bush. I aimed at the bush and fired. Soon a bullet sizzed by me, and I saw the smoke at the same bush; I fired again. Again the tree was struck, and again I fired. The tree was a good protection,--possibly not so good as the bank of earth, though it gave me a much better view,--and I suppose I was a little careless; at any rate, while loading the next time I felt a sharp little pain on my arm. I jumped back into the ditch. My sleeve was torn between my arm and body. I took off my coat--there was hardly more than a scratch; the ball had grazed the inside of my arm about an inch below the armpit and had drawn some blood.
We skirmished all day, neither side advancing. The battalion had no losses. At night the Federals withdrew to their side of the river. While going back to camp our men kept up a perfect babel of talk concerning their first day's experience in the battalion of sharp-shooters. They were to undergo other experiences--experiences which would cause them to hold their tongues.