BATTLE OF PORT REPUBLIC
About sundown we crossed on the bridge, and our wagons joining us we
went into bivouac. In times of this kind, when every one is tired, each
has to depend on himself to prepare his meal. While I was considering
how best and soonest I could get my supper cooked, Bob Lee happened to
stop at our fire, and said he would show me a first-rate plan. It was to
mix flour and water together into a thin batter, then fry the grease out
of bacon, take the meat out of the frying pan and pour the batter in,
and then "just let her rip awhile over the fire." I found the receipt a
good one and expeditious.
About two miles below us, near the river, we could plainly see the
enemy's camp-fires. Early next morning we were astir, and crossed the
other fork of the river on an improvised bridge made of boards laid on
the running-gear of wagons.
We felt assured that Fremont and Shields had received ample
satisfaction, and that we were done with them for the present at least.
Still more were we of this opinion when the wagon-train took the Brown's
Gap road leading across the Blue Ridge, we expecting, of course, to
follow. We did not follow, however, but took instead the route Shields's
forces had taken the day previous, along which lay the bodies of the men
we had killed, their heads, with few exceptions, being shot entirely
off.
Having gone about a mile, the enemy opened on us with artillery, their
shells tearing by us with a most venomous whistle. Halted on the sides
of the road, as we moved by, were the infantry of our brigade. Among
them I recognized my old school-teacher, Alfonso Smith, who had just
joined the army. I had many times quailed under his fierce eye and
writhed under his birch rod. The strain to which he was subjected under
these circumstances was doubly trying, waiting inactive for his first
baptism of fire. His eye was restless as we passed; perhaps he had a
presentiment, as he received his death-wound before the day was over.
Again our two Parrott guns were ordered forward. Turning out of the road
to the left, we unlimbered and commenced firing. The ground on which we
stood was level and very soft, and, having no hand-spike, we had to move
the trail of the gun by main force. The enemy very soon got our range,
and more accurate shooting I was never subjected to. The other four guns
of the battery now came up, and, passing along a small ravine about
forty yards behind us, halted for a time nearby. We were hotly engaged,
shells bursting close around and pelting us with soft dirt as they
struck the ground. Bob Lee came creeping up from his gun in the ravine,
and called to me, "Ned, that isn't making batter-cakes, is it?" The
constant recoiling of our gun cut great furrows in the earth, which made
it necessary to move several times to more solid ground. In these
different positions which we occupied three of the enemy's shells passed
between the wheels and under the axle of our gun, bursting at the trail.
One of them undermined the gunner's (Henry's) footing and injured him so
as to necessitate his leaving the field. Even the old Irish hero, Tom
Martin, was demoralized, and, in dodging from a Yankee shell, was struck
by the wheel of our gun in its recoil and rendered _hors de combat_. We
had been kept in this position for two or three hours, while a flank
movement was being made by Taylor's Louisiana Brigade and the Second
Virginia Regiment through the brush at the foot of the mountain on our
right. When it was thought that sufficient time had been allowed for
them to make the detour, our whole line moved forward, the rest of the
battery several hundred yards to our left. When my gun moved up an
eighth of a mile nearer to the enemy, they added two guns to the three
occupying the site of an old coal-hearth at the foot of the rugged
mountain, so that our gun had five to contend with for an hour longer.
Graham Montgomery had become gunner in Henry's place, and proved a good
one. He could not be hurried, and every time the smoke puffed from our
gun their cannoneers slid right and left from the coal-hearth, then
returning to their guns loaded and gave us a volley. As usual in such
cases, our flanking party was longer in making their appearance than
expected. The whole Federal line charged, and as they did so their ranks
rapidly thinned, some hesitating to advance, while others were shot down
in full view. Still they drove us back and captured one gun of our
battery. Singleton, of my mess, was captured, and Lieut. Cole Davis,
supposed to be mortally wounded, was left on the field. On getting back
a short distance I found myself utterly exhausted, my woolen clothes wet
with perspiration. Having been too tired to get out of the way when the
gun fired, my eardrums kept up the vibrations for hours. Sleep soon
overcame me, but still the battle reverberated in my head.
The Louisianians and the Second Virginia had gotten through the brush
and driven the enemy from the field. I was roused, to join in the
pursuit, and had the satisfaction of seeing the five cannon that had
played on our gun standing silent on the coal-hearth, in our hands.
There being no room in their rear, their caissons and limbers stood off
to their right on a flat piece of heavily wooded ground. This was almost
covered with dead horses. I think there must have been eighty or ninety
on less than an acre; one I noticed standing almost upright, perfectly
lifeless, supported by a fallen tree. Farther on we overtook one of our
battery horses which we had captured from Banks two weeks before.
Shields's men then captured him from us, and we again from them. He had
been wounded four times, but was still fit for service.
Such a spectacle as we here witnessed and exultingly enjoyed possibly
has no parallel. After a rapid retreat of more than one hundred miles,
to escape from the clutches of three armies hotly pursuing on flank and
rear, one of which had outstripped us, we paused to contemplate the
situation. On the ground where we stood lay the dead and wounded of
Shields's army, with much of their artillery and many prisoners in our
possession, while, crowning the hills in full view and with no means of
crossing an intervening river, even should they venture to do so, stood
another army--Fremont's--with flags flying.