CIRCUITOUS NIGHT MARCH--FIRST DAY OF SECOND MANASSAS--ARRIVAL OF
LONGSTREET'S CORPS
Here we halted long enough for a hurried breakfast for men and horses.
Sleep did not seem to enter into Jackson's calculations, or time was
regarded as too precious to be allowed for it. We were on the move again
by noon and approaching the scene of the battle of July, 1861. This was
on Thursday, August 26, 1862, and a battle was evidently to open at any
moment. In the absence of Henry, our gunner, who was sick and off duty,
I was appointed to fill his place. And it was one of the few occasions,
most probably the only one during the war, that I felt the slightest
real desire to exclaim, with the Corporal at Waterloo, "Let the battle
begin!" About two P. M. we went into position, but, before
firing a shot, suddenly moved off, and, marching almost in a
semi-circle, came up in the rear of the infantry, who were now hotly
engaged. This was the beginning of the second battle of Manassas, during
the first two days of which, and the day preceding, Jackson's command
was in great suspense, and, with a wide-awake and active foe, would have
been in great jeopardy. He was entirely in the rear of the Federal
army, with only his own corps, while Longstreet had not yet passed
through Thoroughfare Gap, a narrow defile miles away. The rapid and
steady roll of the musketry, however, indicated that there was no lack
of confidence on the part of his men, though the line of battle had
changed front and was now facing in the opposite direction from the one
held a few hours before. Moving through a body of woods toward the
firing-line we soon began meeting and passing the stream of wounded men
making their way to the rear. And here our attention was again called to
a singular and unaccountable fact, which was noticed and remarked
repeatedly throughout the war. It was that in one battle the large
majority of the less serious wounds received were in the same portion of
the body. In this case, fully three-fourths of the men we met were
wounded in the left hand; in another battle the same proportion were
wounded in the right hand; while in another the head was the attractive
mark for flying bullets, and so on. I venture the assertion that every
old soldier whose attention is called to it will verify the statement.
The battle was of about two hours in duration, and by sundown the firing
had entirely ceased, the enemy being driven from the field, leaving
their dead and wounded. The infantry of the Stonewall Brigade had been
in the thickest of it all and had suffered severe loss.
Willie Preston, of the College company, less than eighteen years of
age, a most attractive and promising youth, received a mortal wound. His
dying messages were committed to Hugh White, the captain of his company,
who, two days later, was himself instantly killed. On the ground where
some of the heaviest fighting took place there stood a neat log-house,
the home of a farmer's family. From it they had, of course, hurriedly
fled, leaving their cow and a half-grown colt in the yard. Both of these
were killed. I saw, also on this field, a dead rabbit and a dead
field-lark--innocent victims of man's brutality!
A quiet night followed, and, except for those of us who were on guard,
the first unbroken rest we had had for almost a week. Next morning,
after breakfasting leisurely, we went into position opposite the enemy,
occupying a long range of hills too distant for serious damage. But,
after we had shelled each other for half an hour, one of our infantry
regiments emerged from the woods a short distance to our right and stood
in line of battle most needlessly exposed. In less than five minutes a
shell burst among them, killing and wounding eleven men. This over, we
moved to a haystack nearby, where our horses had more than one
refreshing feed during lulls in the battle. It seemed, also, an
attractive place for General Jackson, as he was seldom far from it till
the close of the battle on the following day.
An hour later, while engaged in another artillery encounter, our
detachment received a very peremptory and officious order from Major
Shoemaker, commanding the artillery of the division. My friend and
former messmate, W. G. Williamson, now a lieutenant of engineers, having
no duty in that line to perform, had hunted us up, and, with his innate
gallantry, was serving as a cannoneer at the gun. Offended at
Shoemaker's insolent and ostentatious manner, we answered him as he
deserved. Furious at such impudence and insubordination, he was almost
ready to lop our heads off with his drawn sword, when Williamson
informed him that he was a commissioned officer and would see him at the
devil before he would submit to such uncalled-for interference.
"If you are a commissioned officer," Shoemaker replied, "why are you
here, working at a gun?"
"Because I had not been assigned to other duty," was Williamson's reply,
"and I chose to come back, for the time being, with my old battery."
"Then I order you under arrest for your disrespect to a superior
officer!" said Shoemaker.
The case was promptly reported to General Jackson, and Williamson as
promptly released. The bombastic major had little idea that among the
men he was so uselessly reprimanding was a son of General Lee, as well
as Lieutenant Williamson, who was a nephew of Gen. Dick Garnett, who was
later killed in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. This episode over, we
again drove to the haystack.
These repeated advances and attacks made by the enemy's artillery
plainly showed that they realized that our situation was a hazardous
one, of which we, too, were fully aware, and unless Longstreet should
soon show up we felt that the whole of Pope's army would soon be upon
us. While quietly awaiting developments, we heard the sound of a horse's
hoofs, and, as a courier galloped up to General Jackson, to announce
Longstreet's approach, the cloud of red dust raised by his vanguard in
the direction of Thoroughfare Gap assured us that he would soon be at
hand. Before he reached the field, however, and while we were enjoying
the sense of relief at his coming, one of the enemy's batteries had
quietly and unobserved managed to get into one of the positions occupied
by our battery during the morning. Their first volley, coming from such
an unexpected quarter, created a great commotion. Instantly we galloped
to their front and unlimbered our guns at close range. Other of our
batteries fired a few shots, but soon ceased, all seeming intent on
witnessing a duel between the two batteries of four guns each. Their
position was the more favorable, as their limbers and caissons were
behind the crest of the hill, while we were on level ground with ours
fully exposed. Each man worked as if success depended on his individual
exertions, while Captain Poague and Lieutenant Graham galloped back and
forth among the guns, urging us to our best efforts. Our antagonists got
our range at once, and, with their twelve-pound Napoleon guns, poured
in a raking fire. One shell I noticed particularly as it burst, and
waited a moment to observe its effects as the fragments tore by. One of
them struck Captain Poague's horse near the middle of the hip, tearing
an ugly hole, from which there spurted a stream of blood the size of a
man's wrist. To dismount before his horse fell required quick work, but
the captain was equal to the occasion. Another shell robbed Henry
Boteler of the seat of his trousers, but caused the shedding of no
blood, and his narrow escape the shedding of no tears, although the loss
was a serious one. Eugene Alexander, of Moorefield, had his thigh-bone
broken and was incapacitated for service. Sergeant Henry Payne, a
splendid man and an accomplished scholar, was struck by a solid shot
just below the knee and his leg left hanging by shreds of flesh. An hour
later, when being lifted into an ambulance, I heard him ask if his leg
could not be saved, but in another hour he was dead.
After an hour of spirited work, our antagonists limbered up and hurried
off, leaving us victors in the contest. Lieutenant Baxter McCorkle
galloped over to the place to see what execution we had done, and found
several dead men, as many or more dead horses, and one of their caissons
as evidences of good aim; and brought back with him a fine army-pistol
left in the caisson. When the affair was over, I found myself exhausted
and faint from over-exertion in the hot sun. Remembering that my
brother David had brought along a canteen of vinegar, gotten in the big
capture of stores a few days before, and, thinking a swallow of it would
revive me, I went to him and asked him to get it for me. Before I was
done speaking, the world seemed to make a sudden revolution and turn
black as I collapsed with it. My brother, thinking I was shot, hurried
for the vinegar, but found the canteen, which hung at the rear of a
caisson, entirely empty; it, too, having been struck by a piece of
shell, and even the contents of the little canteen demanded by this
insatiable plain.