THE SECOND BATTLE OF MANASSAS--INCIDENTS AND SCENES ON THE BATTLEFIELD
These encounters were the preludes to the great battle for which both
sides were preparing, almost two days having already been spent in
maneuvering and feeling each other's lines. The afternoon, however,
passed quietly with no further collisions worthy of mention. The
following day, Saturday, was full of excitement. It was the third and
last of this protracted battle, and the last for many a brave soldier in
both armies.
The shifting of troops began early, our battery changing position
several times during the forenoon. Neither army had buried its dead of
the first day's battle. We held the ground on which were strewn the
corpses of both Blue and Gray, in some places lying side by side. The
hot August sun had parched the grass to a crisp, and it was frequently
ignited by bursting shells. In this way the clothes of the dead were
sometimes burned off, and the bodies partially roasted! Such spectacles
made little or no impression at the time, and we moved to and fro over
the field, scarcely heeding them.
About two o'clock we were ordered some distance forward, to fire on a
battery posted on a low ridge near a piece of woods. By skirting along a
body of woods on our left, and screened by it, we came out in full view
of this battery and on its right flank. My gun, being in front and the
first seen by them, attracted their whole fire; but most of their shells
passed over our heads and burst among the guns in our rear and among the
trees. None of us was hurt, and in a few minutes all four of our guns
were unlimbered and opened on them most vigorously. In five or six
rounds their guns ceased firing and were drawn by hand from the crest of
the ridge entirely out of view and range.
As we stood by our guns, highly satisfied with our prowess, General
Jackson came riding up to the first detachment and said, "That was
handsomely done, very handsomely done," then passed on to the other
detachments and to each one addressed some complimentary remark. In half
an hour we were again at our rendezvous, the haystack, and he at his
headquarters, and all quiet. But this time it was the calm before the
real storm.
Across the open plains on which we stood, and some three hundred yards
distant from us, was an extensive body of woods in which Longstreet's
corps had quietly formed in line of battle. In front of this was open
ground, sloping gently for one-fourth of a mile, and on its crest the
enemy's line of battle. To our left another large body of woods extended
toward our front, and concealed the movements of both armies from view
in that direction. General Jackson had dismounted from his horse and was
sitting on the rail-fence, and ours and one or two other batteries were
in bivouac close by, and all as calm and peaceful as if the armies were
in their respective winter quarters, when a roar and crash of musketry
that was almost deafening burst forth in the woods in our immediate
front, and a shower of Minie-bullets whistled through the air, striking
here and there about us. Instantly everything was astir, with an
occasional lamentation or cry of pain from some wounded man. General
Jackson mounted his horse hurriedly. The fighting soon became general
throughout the lines, in portions of it terrific. General Pope, after
two days of preparation, had advanced his lines and made the attack
instead of receiving it, as our lines were on the eve of advancing.
A projected but uncompleted railroad, with alternating cuts and
embankments, afforded a splendid line of defense to our infantry on the
left. The most continued and persistent fighting was where it began, on
that portion of the line held by Jackson's old division. In the course
of an hour the attack was repulsed and a counter-charge made, but,
judging from the number of dead the enemy left on the field, and the
rapidity of their pursuit, the Confederates met with but little
resistance thereafter.
An attack had been made on Longstreet's corps at the same time, which
met with the same ill success, and was followed by a counter-charge. I
remember our noticing the high range of hills in front of Longstreet,
completely commanding, as it did, the intervening ground, and some one
remarking, while the charge was in progress, that it seemed impossible
to carry it. But the reserves who occupied this high ground made but
little resistance, and, joining those who had been repulsed, all fled
hurriedly from the field. As soon as the retreat of the Federal army
began, active participation in the battle by the artillery ceased. We
joined in the pursuit, which was brought to a close soon after it began
by approaching night.
In crossing a field in the pursuit, a short distance from our gun, I
passed near a young infantryman lying entirely alone, with his
thigh-bone broken by a Minie-bullet. He was in great distress of mind
and body, and asked me most pleadingly to render him some assistance. If
I could do nothing else, he begged that I should find his brother, who
belonged to Johnston's battery, of Bedford County, Virginia. I told him
I could not leave my gun, etc., which gave him little comfort; but he
told me his name, which was Ferguson, and where his home was.
Fortunately, however, I happened on Johnston's battery soon after, and
sent his brother to him. I heard nothing further of him until five years
later--two years after the war--when I was on a visit to some relatives
in Bedford County. As we started to church in Liberty one Sunday morning
I recalled the incident and mentioned it to my aunt's family, and was
informed that Ferguson was still alive, had been very recently married,
and that I would probably see him that morning at church. And, sure
enough, I was scarcely seated in church when he came limping in and took
a seat near me. I recognized him at once, but, fearing he had not
forgotten what he felt was cruel indifference in his desperate
situation, did not renew our acquaintance.
[Illustration: W. S. MCCLINTIC]
After parting with him on the battlefield and overtaking my gun, our
route for a time was through the enemy's dead and wounded of the battle
which took place two days before, who had been lying between the two
armies, exposed to the hot sun since that time. While taking a more
direct route, as the battery was winding around an ascent, my attention
was called to a Federal soldier of enormous size lying on the ground.
His head was almost as large as a half-bushel and his face a dark-blue
color. I supposed, as a matter of course, that he was dead, and
considered him a curiosity even as a dead man. But, while standing near
him, wondering at the size of the monster, he began to move, and turned
as if about to rise to his feet. Thinking he might succeed, I hurried on
and joined my gun.
Here we had a good opportunity of observing the marked and striking
difference between the Federals and Confederates who remained unburied
for twenty-four hours or more after being killed. While the Confederates
underwent no perceptible change in color or otherwise, the Federals, on
the contrary, became much swollen and discolored. This was, of course,
attributable to the difference in their food and drink. And while some
Confederates, no doubt for want of sufficient food, fell by the wayside
on the march, the great majority of them, owing to their simple fare,
could endure, and unquestionably did endure, more hardship than the
Federals who were overfed and accustomed to regular and full rations.
Our following in the pursuit was a mere form, as the enemy had been
driven by our infantry from all of their formidable positions, and
night, as usual in such cases, had put a stop to further pursuit. As we
countermarched, to find a suitable camping-ground, great care had to be
taken in the darkness to avoid driving over the enemy's wounded who lay
along the course of our route. I remember one of them especially, in a
narrow place, was very grateful to me for standing near him and
cautioning the drivers as they passed by.
On the next day, Sunday, August 31, after three days of occupation such
as I have described, we were not averse to a Sabbath-day's rest, which
also gave us the opportunity of reviewing at leisure the events and
results of our experience, and going over other portions of the
battlefield. Looking to the right front, spread out in full view, was
the sloping ground over which Longstreet had fought and driven his
antagonists. The extensive area presented the appearance of an immense
flower-garden, the prevailing blue thickly dotted with red, the color
of the Federal Zouave uniform. In front of the railroad-cut, and not
more than fifty yards from it, where Jackson's old division had been
attacked, at least three-fourths of the men who made the charge had been
killed, and lay in line as they had fallen. I looked over and examined
the ground carefully, and was confident that I could have walked a
quarter of a mile in almost a straight line on their dead bodies without
putting a foot on the ground. By such evidences as this, our minds had
been entirely disabused of the idea that "the Northerners would not
fight."
It was near this scene of carnage that I also saw two hundred or more
citizens whose credulity under General Pope's assurance had brought them
from Washington and other cities to see "Jackson bagged," and enjoy a
gala day. They were now under guard, as prisoners, and responded
promptly to the authority of those who marched them by at a lively pace.
This sample of gentlemen of leisure gave an idea of the material the
North had in reserve, to be utilized, if need be, in future.
During the three days--28th, 29th and 30th--the official reports give
the Federal losses as 30,000, the Confederates as 8,000. On each of
these days our town of Lexington had lost one of her most promising
young men--Henry R. Payne, of our battery; Hugh White, captain of the
College company, and Willie Preston, a private in the same company, a
noble young fellow who had had the fortitude and moral courage, at the
request of President Junkin, to pull down the palmetto flag hoisted by
the students over Washington College. We remained about Manassas only
long enough for the dead to be buried.
The suffering of the wounded for want of attention, bad enough at best,
in this case must have been extraordinary. The aggregate of wounded of
the two armies, Confederate and Federal, exceeded 15,000 in number. The
surrounding country had been devastated by war until it was practically
a desert. The railroad bridges and tracks, extending from the Rapidan in
Orange County to Fairfax, a distance of fifty miles, had been destroyed,
so that it would require several weeks before the Confederates could
reach the hospitals in Richmond and Charlottesville, and then in
box-cars, over rough, improvised roads. Those of the Federal army were
cut off in like manner from their hospitals in the North. In addition to
all this, the surgeons and ambulances and their corps continued with
their respective commands, to meet emergencies of like nature, to be
repeated before the September moon had begun to wane.