THE SKIRMISH.
The morning of Sunday, October 13, 1863, proved a disastrous one to the
Ninth Maryland Regiment, who were only a few miles distant from our
encampment at Harper's Ferry. As it proved, the enemy in considerable
force, under Gen. Imboden, had made an early and vigorous attack on that
Regiment at Charlestown, and captured them bodily, in number about three
hundred. Every available man of the Thirty-Fourth was promptly called out,
and preceded by a Battery which was stationed near by, we started in
pursuit. Often had the wish been expressed that we might see some actual
fighting, and at last the wish was to be gratified.
A running fight commenced soon after reaching Charlestown, the Battery
which was still in advance, having engaged the enemy just beyond that
place. We pushed on, passing at one time the dead body of a soldier,
killed during the morning's engagement, and a few miles of rapid marching
bring us into close proximity to the foe, as the shells falling within a
short distance from our ranks fully prove. Each Company has been assigned
the best position allowed by the character of the ground, which is
somewhat uneven and obstructed by fences. A lively discharge of musketry
is kept up from both sides for a time, but finally ceases. At about this
period in the fight, a small body of mounted infantry from the enemy's
force charge toward us till but a short space intervenes, and then
wheeling easily, soon disappear in the distance. We afterwards learn that
the Springfield muskets of one of our wing Companies told with effect on
their ranks. The firing has now ceased, and we are ordered to cross the
open ground which separates our position from that of the enemy. This is
safely accomplished, and it is found that they have again retreated.
Our Commanding Officer now considers that the pursuit has been pushed far
enough, and the order is given to return to Harper's Ferry. Marching and
resting alternately, we reach our quarters at a late hour, feeling well
satisfied with this first experience of actual fighting. Two of the Color
Corporals, Clark of Co. K and Gage of Co. E, have laid down their lives;
but they died gloriously, and what matters the form in which death comes,
if it finds us in the path of duty.
"Come to the bridal chamber, Death;
Come to the mother, when she feels
For the first time her first-born's breath:
Come when the blessed seals
Which close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in Consumption's ghastly form;
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet song, and dance, and wine,
And thou art terrible: the tear,
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony, are thine.
But to the warrior, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be."
_Halleck._