Oh, my Nelly Gray, up in heaven there they say
They will never take you from me any more;
I'm a coming, coming, coming as the angels clear the way;
Farewell to the old Kentucky shore.
We had dropped down on the ground with our harness on expecting to hear
the "Fall in" at any moment; but it was in the edge of the evening
before we were summoned to resume the march. A mile or two further
brought us to camping ground in a rough, ploughed field within about a
mile of Boonesboro'. As dark was fast coming on all hands set to, on
breaking ranks, and brought rails for fires and bedding! It was
astonishing to watch the effect of this instantaneous assault upon the
fences. They melted away before the eyes very much like a flake of snow
does on the warm ground; it disappears while you are looking at it,
almost before you have half realized that it is going! The pots were on
in a trice, and by the time we had tents pitched we were saluted with
the "Fall in" for soup. The bustle over, we had time to look about us,
and then for the first some of us saw what caused a sudden change to
come o'er the spirit of our dreams. It was now dark. In the distance in
front and on the right appeared the gleam of camp fires; and on the
left far up in mid-air a bright light was blazing which we knew at once
to be a beacon on South Mountain, many miles distant, though it was too
dark to see even the outline of the range. That spot of fire, hanging
aloft there in the pitchy darkness like a great meteor, had in it
somewhat of portentous awe to us. It seemed the eye of a Cyclops
watching the foe. Our imaginations had not yet taken in the scope of a
vast army, nor the stupendous movements of a great battle like
Gettysburg. The apparition of extended camp fires and a great beacon
afar off came suddenly upon us as out of the very darkness. We had been
beguiling the day with visions of home, and cheating ourselves with the
dream that we were even then homeward bound; and now to have thrust
upon us without warning the spectral lights of a great army, and to be
set down in the midst of them was startling. But the surprise over, the
sight was exhilarating, Close about us lay encamped the several
regiments comprising our column, where a hundred fires were blazing.
Around them figures were moving like Indians, whose faces the flames
lit up with ghastly distinctness. The neighboring wood was made visible
and gloomy at once by the fires under the trees, the foliage reflecting
the light dismally. Elsewhere all was in darkness, and we lay down to
sleep wondering what the morrow would bring forth. Frederick City and
home were forgotten, and the thoughts that now possessed us were of
marching and counter-marching, of lines of battle, of reserves, of
battery supports, and the like.
General Meade had spent the day in making "reconnoissances of the
enemy's position and preparations for an attack" on the morrow; and
General Lee in completing his preparations to withdraw to the south
side of the river, which he expected to accomplish during the night;
but "owing to the condition of the roads the troops (rebel) did not
reach the bridge until after daylight on the 14th, and the crossing was
not completed until 1 P.M., when the bridge was removed."
_Tuesday, 14th._--The morning dawned but brought to us no appearance of
impending battle; and probably in the event of a battle, the first
intimation we should have had of it would have been the distant roar of
artillery. And this we heard about noon--doubtless the attack of
General Kilpatrick's cavalry upon the enemy's rear-guard at Falling
Waters, which resulted in the fall of the rebel general Pettigrew, who
was in command of the rear-guard, and the capture of two pieces of
artillery and fifteen hundred prisoners.
About this time we were ordered under arms again. By slow, short stages
we crept across the fields to the Boonesboro' and Hagerstown pike,
which we followed toward the latter city two miles. We passed a spot
where there had lately been a great camp--the fences all gone, the
fields one vast common and trampled foul, and the air loaded with
stench from putrid carcasses. There were some troops still remaining,
also a park of army wagons, hundreds in number, and a large drove of
fat cattle. When we thought of our starved commissariat, this sight
made us inclined to envy the lot of the soldiers of the Grand Army.
We halted in a field, through which runs a considerable stream called
Beaver Creek, a tributary of the Antietam, within thirty rods of where
there had been a cavalry fight a few days before. It was stated that
our men buried some bodies of rebel soldiers that afternoon. Toward
evening news came that put an entirely new face upon affairs.