BATTLE OF MINE RUN--MARCH TO FREDERICK'S HALL--WINTER-QUARTERS--SOCIAL
AFFAIRS--AGAIN TO THE FRONT--NARROW ESCAPE FROM CAPTURE BY GENERAL
DAHLGREN--FURLOUGHS--CADETS RETURN FROM NEW MARKET--SPOTTSYLVANIA AND
THE WILDERNESS--RETURN TO ARMY AT HANOVER JUNCTION--PANIC AT NIGHT
The movement in which we were next engaged included the battle of Mine
Run, which has been designated by a military critic as "a campaign of
strategy," an account of which is, therefore, not within my province.
The Federals on this occasion did most of the marching and, after
crossing the Rapidan at several different fords, were confronted not far
from our quarters at Mine Run, in Orange County. After breaking camp our
first intimation that a battle was expected was the invariable profusion
of playing-cards along the road. I never saw or heard of a Bible or
prayer-book being cast aside at such a time, but cards were always
thrown away by soldiers going into battle.
After a spirited engagement between Johnson's division and Warren's
corps, the Federals lost time sufficient for the Confederates to
construct a formidable line of breastworks. The position occupied by our
battery was in the midst of a brigade of North Carolinians who had seen
some service in their own State, but had never participated in a real
battle. From a Federal shell, which burst some distance overhead, a thin
piece twirled downward and fell like a leaf within a few feet of our
gun. I saw one of their lieutenants, who was lying in the trench, eye it
suspiciously, then creep out and pick it up. Presently the colonel of
his regiment passed along and the lieutenant said, as he held up the
trophy, "Colonel, just look at this. I was lying right _here_, and it
fell right _there_." This brigade had no occasion to test its mettle
until the following spring, but then, in the great battle of
Spottsylvania, it fought gallantly and lost its general--Gary--who was
killed.
Naturally, after such a determined advance on the part of the Federals,
a general attack was expected; but, after spending two days threatening
different portions of our lines, they withdrew in the night, leaving
only men sufficient to keep their camp-fires burning for a time, as a
ruse. The road along which we followed them for some miles was strewn at
intervals with feathers from the beds of the people whose houses they
had ransacked.
It was now October, and the chilly autumn nights suggested retiring to
more comfortable surroundings. Our battalion of artillery was ordered
to Frederick's Hall, on the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, about fifty
miles from Richmond. In this neighborhood there were quite a number of
nice people, whose society and hospitality afforded those of us so
inclined much agreeable entertainment. A white paper-collar became no
unusual sight, but when two of our members appeared one afternoon
adorned with blue cravats a sensation was created.
A member of our battery returned from a visit to a family of former
acquaintances some twelve miles from camp, and brought an invitation for
some of his friends to accompany him on his next visit. Soon thereafter
four of us went, through a drizzling rain, I riding a blind horse, the
others on foot. Night overtook us soon after leaving camp, and when,
within a mile of our destination, we asked at a house by the roadside
for directions as to the way, a gruff voice informed us that an
intervening creek was too high to cross, and insisted on our coming in
and spending the night. We declined this, and the man said, "Well, I'll
send a negro boy with you; but you'll have to come back," which proved
to be the case. On our return we were boisterously welcomed. A blazing
fire of dry pine soon lit up the room, with its clean, bare floor, and
disclosed the figure of our host--Peter Johnson by name--a stout, burly
man, clad in homespun and a fur cap. He said his wife and children had
been "a-bed" since dark, were tired of his jokes, and that he was
delighted to have a fresh audience; that it was past supper-time and
some hours before breakfast, but that fasting was nothing new to
Confederate soldiers. The names of two of our party, McCorkle and
McClintic, he said, were too long and that he would call them Cockle and
Flint, but before proceeding further he would give us some music.
Forthwith he produced a short flute, took a seat on the foot of the
stairs (in the far corner of the room), and played "The Devil's Dream,"
"The Arkansas Traveler," etc., beating time with his foot.
Here we passed the night in comfortable beds and, after a bountiful
breakfast, left with a pressing invitation to return for a rabbit-chase
with his hounds, which we gladly accepted and afterward enjoyed. This
was typical of eastern Virginia and her hospitable, whole-souled
"Tuckahoes," whose houses were never too full for them to hail a
passer-by and compel him to come in. This interruption detracted nothing
from the pleasure of the visit for which we had originally set out.
A short time after our return to Frederick's Hall our whole artillery
command narrowly escaped capture by a band of cavalry raiders under
command of Colonel Dahlgren. About fifty of the cannoneers of the
battalion had been furnished with muskets and regularly exercised in the
infantry drill. When the raiders arrived within a mile of our
winter-quarters they inquired of the country people as to the character
of troops occupying our camp, and were informed by some negroes that the
"men had muskets with bayonets on them." As infantry was not what they
were seeking, they gave us the go-by and passed on toward Richmond, the
capture of which was the chief object of the expedition. In the attack
on Richmond, which occurred in the night, Dahlgren was killed and his
command defeated with heavy loss.
Encouraged by the visit already mentioned, I accompanied my friend, Tom
Williamson, on a visit by rail to his relations, the Garnetts, near
Hanover Junction; thence, after spending the night, to some friends in
Caroline County. On our return to camp we found preparations on foot for
a move to the front, and although we left camp by eleven o'clock that
night not more than three or four miles was traveled by daylight. In the
darkness one of our twenty-pounders went over a thirty-foot embankment,
carrying the drivers and eight horses into the mud and water at its
base.
While on the march later in the day, to save distance, I undertook to
pass near a house, in the yard of which were two men with a large
Newfoundland dog. A smaller dog, chained to the corner of the house,
broke loose as I passed and viciously seized the tail of my overcoat.
Instantly, to my dismay, the large dog left the men and dashed straight
for me; but, instead of rending me, knocked my assailant heels over head
and held him down until secured by the men and chained.
Before reaching the front, it was learned that we had been called out on
a false alarm. Our return to Frederick's Hall was by a more circuitous
route, near which was an establishment where apple-brandy was for sale.
The stock had been heavily watered, and the price of shares (in a
drink), even then, too far above par for eleven dollars a month to
afford scarcely more than a smell. However, after reaching camp, more
than ordinary wrestling and testing of strength were indulged in.
Two years had elapsed since any furloughs had been given, except to the
sick and wounded. The granting of them was now revived, and those who
had been longest from home were, of course, to be served first. My turn
came in March. I shall never forget the impression made on me as I sat
at the supper-table at home, on the evening of my arrival. My father,
mother, sisters, and little niece were present; and, after the noise,
loud talking, etc., in camp, the quiet was painful. It was just as it
had always been, except the vacant places of the boys at the front;
still, I felt that something was wrong. Equally as impressive was the
mild diet of cold bread, milk, and weak-looking tea. The effect was the
same as that produced by a sudden transition from a low to a high
altitude, or vice versa, requiring time for adaptation, as I soon
experienced. My fifteen days' leave of absence having expired, I
returned to camp.
To induce the boys who were under age, and still at home, to enlist, a
thirty-day furlough was offered to every soldier who would secure a
recruit for the service. By this means many boys of only fifteen or
sixteen years joined the army, to enable a long-absent kinsman to get
home. McClintic, of my mess, got this furlough by the enlistment of his
brother, and while at home drummed up the son of a neighbor, William
Barger, whom he brought back with him to repeat the operation. To
allowing this second furlough the authorities, right or wrong, objected.
The matter was compromised by McClintic very generously assigning the
young recruit to my credit, by which I got the furlough.
Before my return to the army, at the expiration of the thirty days, the
Grant campaign had opened and the great battles of the Wilderness and
Spottsylvania had been fought. Our battery had escaped without serious
loss, as the character of the country afforded little opportunity for
the use of artillery. From Staunton I traveled on a freight train with
the cadets of the Virginia Military Institute and their professors, who
were now the conspicuous heroes of the hour, having just won immortal
fame in their charge, on May 15, at New Market. Among the professors was
my friend and former messmate, Frank Preston, with an empty sleeve, now
captain of a cadet company, and Henry A. Wise, Jr., who took command of
the cadets after the wounding of Colonel Shipp, their commandant.
Our army was now near Hanover Junction, twenty-five miles from Richmond,
and engaged in its death struggle with Grant's countless legions. If
any one period of the four years of the war were to be selected as an
example of Southern endurance and valor, it probably should be the
campaign from the Wilderness, beginning May 5 and closing a month later
at Petersburg, in which the Confederate army, numbering 64,000
half-clothed, half-fed men, successfully resisted a splendidly equipped
army of 140,000--inflicting a loss of 60,000 killed and wounded.
Much has been said and written concerning the comparative equipment,
etc., of the two armies. A striking reference to it I heard in a
conversation at General Lee's home in Lexington after the war. Of the
students who attended Washington College during his presidency he always
requested a visit to himself whenever they returned to the town. With
this request they were very ready to comply. While performing this
pleasant duty one evening, during a visit to my old home in Lexington,
Mrs. Lee, sitting in her invalid-chair, was discoursing to me,
feelingly, on the striking contrast between the ragged clothing worn by
Confederate soldiers as compared with that worn by the Federals, as she
had seen the Federal troops entering Richmond after its evacuation. The
General, who was pacing the floor, paused for a moment, his eye lighting
up, and, at the conclusion of her remarks, said, as he inclined forward
with that superb grace, "But, ah! Mistress Lee, we gave them some
awfully hard knocks, with all of our rags!"
After parting with my cadet friends at Hanover Junction, soon after
day-dawn, I readily found our battery bivouacking in sight of the
station. Some of the men were lying asleep; those who had risen seemed
not yet fully awake. All looked ten years older than when I had bidden
them good-by a month before--hollow-eyed, unwashed, jaded, and hungry;
paper-collars and blue neckties shed and forgotten. The contents of my
basket (boxes were now obsolete), consisting of pies sweetened with
sorghum molasses, and other such edibles, were soon devoured, and I
reported "returned for duty." In a few hours we were on the road to
Richmond, with the prospect of another sojourn in the surrounding
swamps.
On the night of June 1 our battery was bivouacked in the edge of a dense
piece of woods, the guns being parked in open ground just outside, while
the men were lying in the leaves, with the horses tied among them. About
midnight one of the horses became tangled in his halter and fell to the
ground, struggling and kicking frantically to free himself. A man close
by, being startled from sleep, began halloaing, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The
alarm was taken up by one after another as each roused from slumber,
increasing and spreading the noise and confusion; by this time the
horses had joined in, pawing and snorting in terror, completing the
reign of pandemonium. As darkness prevented successful running, some
of the men climbed trees or clung to them for protection, while the
sentinel over the guns in the open broke from his beat, supposing
Grant's cavalry was upon us. In a space of two minutes all suddenly
became still, the climbers stealthily slid from their trees, and others
gingerly picked their way back to their lairs, "ashamed as men who flee
in battle." For some time, as the cause and absurdity of the incident
was realized, there issued now and then from a pile of leaves a chuckle
of suppressed laughter.
[Illustration: EDWARD H. HYDE
(Color-bearer)]