NEWMARKET.
After a march of some hours, our Regiment had arrived in the vicinity of
Newmarket, Va.; not, however, without an occasional shot being exchanged
between the light artillery which preceded us and that of the enemy. As we
were marched to a position somewhat sheltered by a low ridge, this firing
was kept up with vigor. The peculiar tone and expression assumed by our
commander, Colonel Wells, as he directed our movements will be remembered
by many. "Don't you see how they are firing at me?" was his demand,
evidently more for its effect on his men than from any special concern as
to his own safety.
So passed the afternoon of Saturday, May 14, 1864, and the night, a rainy
and uncomfortable one, settled down upon us; but war is no respecter of
the stillness of night, and the fact of a foe being close at hand is a
great promoter of uneasiness. Suddenly a shot is heard, then a volley, and
we are roused up without ceremony; but the alarm proves nothing serious,
being caused by a small reconnoitreing party from the enemy. We lie down
again, all save the watchful sentinels, and sheltering ourselves from the
rain so far as possible, get what sleep may be had under the
circumstances. A part of the morning is occupied in putting our arms and
ourselves in good fighting condition, though this is a difficult matter in
some cases; the rain having, in spite of our care, reached our muskets to
some extent.
The quiet is broken by an order to a different position, which order is
repeated occasionally during the forenoon, keeping us in motion almost
constantly from one point to another. At last, a satisfactory position
having been reached, we lie down on our arms for a short time, but soon
are ordered to rise and then to load and fire as rapidly as we can. In the
meantime, a Battery has been stationed on our right and its guns begin to
play on the enemy. After firing several volleys a charge is ordered, and
as we advance, the opposing force comes plainly into view. The yells and
cheers accompanying this movement make it almost impossible to hear any
order from our superior officers, but we finally comprehend that a
"right-about" is ordered. This is executed, and we retrace our steps for a
short distance, still keeping on a line with the colors, while the
continuous cheering of the enemy shows that they fully appreciate their
advantage. We now begin to feel seriously the effect of the heavy fire,
both musketry and artillery, which fills the air with deadly missiles. A
prominent field officer is disabled by a severe wound, and as the enemy
press close upon us, necessarily falls into their hands; while others who
are less injured are supported from the field to receive surgical aid.
The Regiment, having reached a good position, is halted, faced about, and
aids in checking the enemy's advance, much to the satisfaction of the
wounded, who are making their way to Mt. Jackson, some four miles distant.
Night falls, and the sounds of battle are hushed; but this Sabbath day, so
disturbed by mortal strife, has proved the last for many who had
cherished hopes of "bright days yet to be."
"And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear drops, as they pass;
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave: alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass;
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valor, rolling on the foe,
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low."
_Byron._