BRIDGEWATER--LURAY VALLEY--FRONT ROYAL--FOLLOWING GENERAL BANKS--NIGHT
MARCH--BATTLE OF WINCHESTER--BANKS'S RETREAT
The next day we who were on foot crossed the Shenandoah on a bridge made
of wagons standing side by side, with tongues up-stream, and boards
extending from one wagon to another. We reached Bridgewater about four
P. M. It was a place of which I had never heard, and a beautiful village
it proved to be, buried in trees and flowers. From Bridgewater we went
to Harrisonburg, and then on our old familiar and beaten path--the
Valley pike to New Market. Thence obliquely to the right, crossing the
Massanutten Mountain into Luray Valley. During the Milroy campaign Ewell
had crossed into the Valley, and we now followed his division, which was
several miles in advance. Banks was in command of the Union force in the
Valley, with his base at Winchester and detachments of his army at
Strasburg, eighteen miles southwest, and at Front Royal, about the same
distance in the Luray Valley. So the latter place was to be attacked
first. About three P. M. the following day cannonading was heard on
ahead, and, after a sharp fight, Ewell carried the day. We arrived
about sundown, after it was all over. In this battle the First Maryland
Regiment (Confederate) had met the First Maryland (Federal) and captured
the whole regiment. Several members of our battery had brothers or other
relatives in the Maryland (Confederate) regiment, whom they now met for
the first time since going into service. Next day we moved toward
Middletown on the Valley pike, and midway between Winchester and
Strasburg.
Jackson's rapid movements seemed to have taken the enemy entirely by
surprise, and we struck their divided forces piecemeal, and even after
the Front Royal affair their troops at Strasburg, consisting chiefly of
cavalry, had not moved. Two of our guns were sent on with the Louisiana
Tigers, to intercept them at Middletown. The guns were posted about one
hundred and fifty yards from the road, and the Tigers strung along
behind a stone fence on the roadside. Everything was in readiness when
the enemy came in sight. They wavered for a time, some trying to pass
around, but, being pushed from behind, there was no alternative. Most of
them tried to run the gauntlet; few, however, got through. As the rest
of us came up we met a number of prisoners on horseback. They had been
riding at a run for nine miles on the pike in a cloud of white dust.
Many of them were hatless, some had saber-cuts on their heads and
streams of blood were coursing down through the dust on their faces.
Among them was a woman wearing a short red skirt and mounted on a tall
horse.
Confined in a churchyard in the village were two or three hundred
prisoners. As we were passing by them an old negro cook, belonging to
the Alleghany Rough Battery of our brigade, ran over to the fence and
gave them a hearty greeting, said he was delighted to see them "thar,"
and that we would catch all the rest of them before they got back home.
Banks's main force was at Winchester, and thither we directed our
course.
Newtown was the next village, and there we had another skirmish, our
artillery being at one end of the town and the enemy's at the opposite.
In this encounter two members of our battery were wounded. There was
great rejoicing among the people to see us back again and to be once
more free from Northern soldiers. As the troops were passing through
Newtown a very portly old lady came running out on her porch, and,
spreading her arms wide, called out, "All of you run here and kiss me!"
Night soon set in, and a long, weary night it was; the most trying I
ever passed, in war or out of it. From dark till daylight we did not
advance more than four miles. Step by step we moved along, halting for
five minutes; then on a few steps and halt again. About ten o'clock we
passed by a house rather below the roadside, on the porch of which lay
several dead Yankees, a light shining on their ghastly faces.
Occasionally we were startled by the sharp report of a rifle, followed
in quick succession by others; then all as quiet as the grave.
Sometimes, when a longer halt was made, we would endeavor to steal a few
moments' sleep, for want of which it was hard to stand up. By the time a
blanket was unrolled, the column was astir again, and so it continued
throughout the long, dreary hours of the night.
At last morning broke clear and beautiful, finding us about two miles
from Winchester. After moving on for perhaps half a mile, we filed to
the left. All indications were that a battle was imminent, Banks
evidently intending to make one more effort. The sun was up, and never
shone on a prettier country nor a lovelier May morning. Along our route
was a brigade of Louisiana troops under the command of Gen. Dick Taylor,
of Ewell's division. They were in line of battle in a ravine, and as we
were passing by them several shells came screaming close over our heads
and burst just beyond. I heard a colonel chiding his men for dodging,
one of whom called out, in reply, "Colonel, lead us up to where we can
get at them and then we won't dodge!" We passed on, bearing to the right
and in the direction from which the shells came. General Jackson ordered
us to take position on the hill just in front. The ground was covered
with clover, and as we reached the crest we were met by a volley of
musketry from a line of infantry behind a stone fence about two hundred
yards distant.
My gun was one of the last to get into position, coming up on the left.
I was assigned the position of No. 2, Jim Ford No. 1. The Minie-balls
were now flying fast by our heads, through the clover and everywhere. A
charge of powder was handed me, which I put into the muzzle of the gun.
In a rifled gun this should have been rammed home first, but No. 1 said,
"Put in your shell and let one ram do. Hear those Minies?" I heard them
and adopted the suggestion; the consequence was, the charge stopped
half-way down and there it stuck, and the gun was thereby rendered
unavailable. This was not very disagreeable, even from a patriotic point
of view, as we could do but little good shooting at infantry behind a
stone fence. On going about fifty yards to the rear, I came up with my
friend and messmate, Gregory, who was being carried by several comrades.
A Minie-ball had gone through his left arm into his breast and almost
through his body, lodging in the right side of his back. Still he
recovered, and was a captain of ordnance at the surrender, and two years
ago I visited him at his own home in California. As my train stopped at
his depot, and I saw a portly old gentleman with a long white beard
coming to meet it, I thought of the youth I remembered, and said, "Can
that be Gregory?"
Then came Frank Preston with his arm shattered, which had to be
amputated at the shoulder. I helped to carry Gregory to a barn one
hundred and fifty yards in the rear, and there lay Bob McKim, of
Baltimore, another member of the company, shot through the head and
dying. Also my messmate, Wash. Stuart, who had recently joined the
battery. A ball had struck him just below the cheek-bone, and, passing
through the mouth, came out on the opposite side of his face, breaking
out most of his jaw-teeth. Then came my brother John with a stream of
blood running from the top of his head, and, dividing at the forehead,
trickled in all directions down his face. My brother David was also
slightly wounded on the arm by a piece of shell. By this time the
Louisianians had been "led up to where they could get at them," and
gotten them on the run. I forgot to mention that, as one of our guns was
being put into position, a gate-post interfered. Captain Poague ordered
John Agnor to cut the post down with an axe. Agnor said, "Captain, I
will be killed!" Poague replied, "Do your duty, John." He had scarcely
struck three blows before he fell dead, pierced by a Minie-ball.
In this battle, known as First Winchester, two of the battery were
killed and twelve or fourteen wounded. The fighting was soon over and
became a chase. My gun being _hors de combat_, I remained awhile with
the wounded, so did not witness the first wild enthusiasm of the
Winchester people as our men drove the enemy through the streets, but
heard that the ladies could not be kept indoors. Our battery did itself
credit on this occasion. I will quote from Gen. Dick Taylor's book,
entitled "Destruction and Reconstruction": "Jackson was on the pike and
near him were several regiments lying down for shelter, as the fire from
the ridge was heavy and searching. A Virginian battery, the Rockbridge
Artillery, was fighting at great disadvantage, and already much cut up.
Poetic authority asserts that 'Old Virginny never tires,' and the
conduct of this battery justified the assertion of the muses. With
scarce a leg or wheel for man and horse, gun or caisson, to stand on, it
continued to hammer away at the crushing fire above." And further on in
the same narrative he says, "Meanwhile, the Rockbridge Battery held on
manfully and engaged the enemy's attention." Dr. Dabney's "Life of
Stonewall Jackson," page 377, says: "Just at this moment General Jackson
rode forward, followed by two field-officers, to the very crest of the
hill, and, amidst a perfect shower of balls, reconnoitred the whole
position.... He saw them posting another battery, with which they hoped
to enfilade the ground occupied by the guns of Poague; and nearer to his
left front a body of riflemen were just seizing a position behind a
stone fence when they poured a galling fire upon the gunners and struck
down many men and horses. Here this gallant battery stood its ground,
sometimes almost silenced, yet never yielding an inch. After a time they
changed their front to the left, and while a part of their guns replied
to the opposing battery the remainder shattered the stone fence, which
sheltered the Federal infantry, with solid shot and raked it with
canister."
In one of the hospitals I saw Jim ("Red") Jordan, an old schoolmate and
member of the Alleghany Roughs, with his arm and shoulder horribly
mangled by a shell. He had beautiful brown eyes, and, as I came into the
room where he lay tossing on his bed, he opened them for a moment and
called my name, but again fell back delirious, and soon afterward died.
The chase was now over, and the town full of soldiers and officers,
especially the latter. I was invited by John Williams, better known as
"Johnny," to spend the night at his home, a home renowned even in
hospitable Winchester for its hospitality. He had many more intimate
friends than I, and the house was full. Still I thought I received more
attention and kindness than even the officers. I was given a choice room
all to myself, and never shall I forget the impression made by the sight
of that clean, snow-white bed, the first I had seen since taking up arms
for my country, which already seemed to me a lifetime. I thought I must
lie awake awhile, in order to take in the situation, then go gradually
to sleep, realizing that to no rude alarm was I to hearken, and once or
twice during the night to wake up and realize it again. But, alas! my
plans were all to no purpose; for, after the continual marching and the
vigils of the previous night, I was asleep the moment my head touched
the pillow, nor moved a muscle till breakfast was announced next
morning.