GENERAL JACKSON NARROWLY ESCAPES BEING CAPTURED AT PORT
REPUBLIC--CONTEST BETWEEN CONFEDERATES AND FEDERALS FOR BRIDGE OVER
SHENANDOAH
The College company had as cook a very black negro boy named Pete, who
through all this marching had carried, on a baggage-wagon, a small game
rooster which he told me had whipped every chicken from Harrisonburg to
Winchester and back again. At last he met defeat, and Pete consigned him
to the pot, saying, "No chicken dat kin be whipped shall go 'long wid
Jackson's headquarters." At Harrisonburg we turned to the left again,
but this time obliquely, in the direction of Port Republic, twenty miles
distant. We went into camp on Saturday evening, June 7, about one mile
from Port Republic and on the north side of the Shenandoah. Shields had
kept his army on the south side of this stream and had been moving
parallel with us during our retreat. Jackson's division was in advance.
Instead of going into camp, I, with two messmates, Bolling and Walter
Packard, diverged to a log-house for supper. The man of the house was
quiet; his wife did the talking, and a great deal of it. She flatly
refused us a bite to eat, but, on stating the case to her, she consented
to let us have some bread and milk. Seated around an unset dining-table
we began divesting ourselves of our knapsacks. She said, "Just keep your
baggage on; you can eat a bite and go." We told her we could eat faster
unharnessed. She sliced a loaf of bread as sad as beeswax, one she had
had on hand for perhaps a week, and gave us each a bowl of sour milk,
all the while reminding us to make our stay short. For the sake of
"argument" we proposed to call around for breakfast. She scorned the
idea, had "promised breakfast to fifty already." "Staying all night? Not
any." We said we could sleep in the yard and take our chances for
breakfast. After yielding, inch by inch, she said we could sleep on the
porch. "Well, I reckon you just as well come into the house," and showed
us into a snug room containing two nice, clean beds, in one of which lay
a little "nigger" about five years old, with her nappy head on a
snow-white pillow. We took the floor and slept all night, and were
roused next morning to partake of a first-rate breakfast.
About eight or nine o'clock this Sunday morning we were taking our ease
in and about camp, some having gone to the river to bathe, and the
horses turned loose in the fields to graze. I was stretched at full
length on the ground, when "bang!" went a Yankee cannon about a mile in
our rear, toward Port Republic. We were up and astir instantly, fully
realizing the situation. By lending my assistance to the drivers in
catching and hitching up the horses, my gun was the first ready, and
started immediately in the direction of the firing, with Captain Poague
in the lead, the other guns following on as they got ready.
Three or four hundred yards brought us in full view of Port Republic,
situated just across the river. Beyond, and to the left of the village,
was a small body of woods; below this, and lying between the river and
mountain, an open plain. We fired on several regiments of infantry in
the road parallel to and across the river, who soon began moving off to
the left. The other guns of the battery, arriving on the scene one at a
time, took position on our left and opened vigorously on the retreating
infantry. My gun then moved forward and unlimbered close to a bridge
about two hundred yards below the town, where we took position on a
bluff in the bend of the river. We commenced firing at the enemy's
cavalry as they emerged from the woods and crossed the open plain. One
of our solid shots struck a horse and rider going at full gallop. The
horse reared straight up, then down both fell in a common heap to rise
no more.
While in this position General Jackson, who had narrowly escaped being
captured in his quarters in the town, came riding up to us. Soon after
his arrival we saw a single piece of artillery pass by the lower end of
the village, and, turning to the right, drive quietly along the road
toward the bridge. The men were dressed in blue, most of them having on
blue overcoats; still we were confident they were our own men, as
three-fourths of us wore captured overcoats. General Jackson ordered,
"Fire on that gun!" We said, "General, those are our men." The General
repeated, "Fire on that gun!" Captain Poague said, "General, I know
those are our men." (Poague has since told me that he had, that morning,
crossed the river and seen one of our batteries in camp near this
place.) Then the General called, "Bring that gun over here," and
repeated the order several times. We had seen, a short distance behind
us, a regiment of our infantry, the Thirty-seventh Virginia. It was now
marching in column very slowly toward us. In response to Jackson's order
to "bring that gun over here," the Federals, for Federals they were,
unlimbered their gun and pointed it through the bridge. We tried to
fire, but could not depress our gun sufficiently for a good aim.
The front of the infantry regiment had now reached a point within twenty
steps of us on our right, when the Federals turned their gun toward us
and fired, killing the five men of the regiment at the front. The
Federals then mounted their horses and limber, leaving their gun behind,
and started off. The infantry, shocked by their warm reception, had not
yet recovered. We called on them, over and over, to kill a horse as the
enemy drove off. They soon began shooting, and, I thought, fired shots
enough to kill a dozen horses; but on the Federals went, right in front
of us, and not more than one hundred yards distant, accompanied by two
officers on horseback. When near the town the horse of one officer
received a shot and fell dead. The Thirty-seventh Virginia followed on
in column through the bridge, its front having passed the deserted gun
while its rear was passing us. The men in the rear, mistaking the front
of their own regiment for the enemy, opened fire on them, heedless of
the shouts of their officers and of the artillerymen as to what they
were doing. I saw a little fellow stoop, and, resting his rifle on his
knee, take a long aim and fire. Fortunately, they shot no better at
their own men than they did at the enemy, as not a man was touched. Up
to this time we had been absorbed in events immediately at hand, but,
quiet being now restored, we heard cannonading back toward Harrisonburg.
Fremont had attacked Ewell at Cross Keys, about four miles from us. Soon
the musketry was heard and the battle waxed warm.
Remaining in this position the greater portion of the day, we listened
anxiously to learn from the increasing or lessening sound how the battle
was going with Ewell, and turned our eyes constantly in the opposite
direction, expecting a renewal of the attack from Shields. Toward the
middle of the afternoon the sound became more and more remote--Ewell had
evidently won the day, which fact was later confirmed by couriers. We
learned, too, of the death of General Ashby, which had occurred the
preceding day.