CEDAR MOUNTAIN.
There being nothing to eat in the vicinity of the ambulances, I mounted
anew at five o'clock and rode back toward Culpepper. No portion of the
troops of Crawford were visible now, and only some gray smoke moved up
the side of the mountain. A few stragglers were bathing their faces in
Cedar Creek, and some miles in the rear lay several of McDowell's
brigades under arms. Their muskets were stacked along the sides of the
road, the men lay sleepily upon the ground,--company by company, each in
its proper place,--the field-officers gossiping together, and the colors
upright and unfurled. I was stopped, all the way along the lines, and
interrogated as to what was happening in front.
"Any Reb-bils out yonder?" asked a grim, snappish Colonel.
"Guess they don't mean to fight before breakfast!" blurted a Captain.
"Wish they'd cut away, anyway, if they goin' to!" muttered a chorus of
privates.
At the village there was nothing to be purchased, although some sutlers'
stores lay at the depot, guarded by Provost officers. I persuaded a
negro to give me a mess of almost raw pork, and a woman, with a child at
the breast, cooked me some biscuit. There were many civilians and idle
officers in the town, and the streets were lined with cavalry. Mr.
Paine, the landlord, was losing the remnant of his wits, and the young
ladies were playing the "Bonnie Blue Flag," and laughing satirically at
some young officers who listened. The correspondents began to show
themselves in force, and a young fellow whom I may call Chitty,
representing a provincial journal, greatly amused me, with the
expression of fears that there might be no engagement after all. Chitty
was an attorney, who had forsaken a very moderate practice, for a press
connection, and he informed me, in confidence, that he was gathering
materials for a history of the war. By reason of his attention to this
weighty project, he failed to do any reporting, and as his mind was not
very well balanced, he was commonly taken to be a simpleton. As there
was nobody else to talk to, I amused myself with Chitty during the
forenoon, and he narrated to me some doubtful intrigues which had varied
his career in Piedmont. But Chitty had mingled in no battles, and now
that a contest was about to take place, his heart warmed in
anticipation. He asked me if the hottest fighting would not probably
occur on the right, and intimated, in that event, his desire to carry
despatches through the thickest of the fray. Death was welcome to Chitty
if he could so distinguish himself. Between Chitty and a nap in a wagon,
I managed to loiter out the morning, and at three o'clock, a cannon
peal, so close that it shook the houses, brought my horse upon his
haunches. For awhile I did not leave the village. Cannon upon cannon
exploded; the young ladies ceased their mirth; the landlord staggered
with white lips into the air, and after a couple of hours, I heard the
signal that I knew so well--a volley of musketry. Full of all the old
impulses, I climbed into the saddle, and spurred my horse towards the
battle-field.
The ride over six miles of clay road was a capital school for my pony.
Every hoof-fall brought him closer to the cannon, and the sound had
become familiar when he reached the scene. At four o'clock, the musketry
was close and effective beyond anything I had known, and now and then I
could see, from secure places, the spurts of white cannon-smoke far up
the side of the mountain. The action was commenced by emulous
skirmishers, who crawled from the woodsides, and annoyed each other from
coverts of ridge, stump, and stone heap. A large number of Southern
riflemen then threw themselves into a corner of wood, considerably
advanced from their main position. Their fire was so destructive that
General Banks felt it necessary to order a charge. Two brigades, when
the signal was given, marched in line of battle, out of a wood, and
charged across a field of broken ground toward the projecting corner. As
soon as they appeared, sharpshooters darted up from a stretch of scrub
cedars on their right, and a battery mowed them down by an oblique fire
from the left. The guns up the mountain side threw shells with beautiful
exactness, and the concealed rifle-men in front poured in deadly showers
of bullet and ball. As the men fell by dozens out of line, the survivors
closed up the gaps, and pressed forward gallantly. The ground was
uneven, however, and solid order could not be observed throughout. At
length, when they had gained a brookside at the very edge of the wood,
the column staggered, quailed, fell into disorder, and then fell back.
Some of the more desperate dashed singly into the thicket, bayoneting
their enemies, and falling in turn in the fierce grapple. Others of the
Confederates ran from the wood, and engaged hand to hand with
antagonists, and, in places, a score of combatants met sturdily upon the
plain, lunging with knife and sabre bayonet, striking with clubbed
musket, or discharging revolvers. But at last the broken lines regained
the shelter of the timber, and there was a momentary lull in the
thunder.
For a time, each party kept in the edges of the timber, firing at will,
but the Confederates were moving forward in masses by detours, until
some thousands of them stood in the places of the few who were at first
isolated. Distinct charges were now made, and a large body of Federals
attempted to capture the battery before Slaughter's house, while
separate brigades charged by front and flank upon the impenetrable
timber. The horrible results of the previous effort were repeated; the
Confederates preserved their position, and, at nightfall, the Federals
fell back a mile or more. From fifteen hundred to two thousand of the
latter were slain or wounded, and, though the heat of the battle had
lasted not more than two hours, nearly four thousand men upon both sides
were maimed or dead. The valor of the combatants in either cause was
unquestionable. But no troops in the world could have driven the
Confederates out of the impregnable mazes of the wood. It was an error
to expose columns of troops upon an open plain, in the face of
imperceptible sharpshooters. The batteries should have shelled the
thickets, and the infantry should have retained their concealment. The
most disciplined troops of Europe would not have availed in a country of
bog, barren, ditch, creek, forest, and mountain. Compared to the bare
plain of Waterloo, Cedar Mountain was like the antediluvian world, when
the surface was broken by volcanic fire into chasms and abysses. In this
battle, the Confederate batteries, along the mountain side, were
arranged in the form of a crescent, and, when the solid masses charged
up the hill, they were butchered by enfilading fires. On the Confederate
part, a thorough knowledge of the country was manifest, and the best
possible disposition of forces and means; on the side of the Federals,
there was zeal without discretion, and gallantry without generalship.
During the action, "Stonewall" Jackson occupied a commanding position on
the side of the mountain, where, glass in hand, he observed every change
of position, and directed all the operations. General Banks was
indefatigable and courageous; but he was left to fight the whole battle,
and not a regiment of the large reserve in his rear, came forward to
succor or relieve him. As usual, McDowell was cursed by all sides, and
some of Banks's soldiers threatened to shoot him. But the unpopular
Commander had no defence to make, and said nothing to clear up the
doubts relative to him. He exposed himself repeatedly, and so did Pope.
The latter rode to the front at nightfall,--for what purpose no one
could say, as he had been in Culpepper during the whole afternoon,--and
he barely escaped being captured. The loss of Federal officers was very
heavy. Fourteen commissioned officers were killed and captured out of
one regiment. Sixteen commissioned officers only remained in four
regiments. One General was taken prisoner and several were wounded. A
large number of field-officers were slain.
During the progress of the fight I galloped from point to point along
the rear, but could nowhere obtain a panoramic view. The common
sentiment of civilians, that it is always possible to see a battle, is
true of isolated contests only. Even the troops engaged, know little of
the occurrences around them, and I have been assured by many soldiers
that they have fought a whole day without so much as a glimpse of an
enemy. The smoke and dust conceal objects, and where the greatest
execution is done, the antagonists have frequently fired at a line of
smoke, behind which columns may, or may not have been posted.
It was not till nightfall, when the Federals gave up the contested
ground, and fell back to some cleared fields, that I heard anything of
the manner of action and the resulting losses. As soon as the firing
ceased, the ambulance corps went ahead and began to gather up the
wounded. As many of these as could walk passed to the rear on foot, and
the spectacle at eight o'clock was of a terrible character. The roads
were packed with ambulances, creaking under fearful weights, and rod by
rod, the teams were stopped, to accommodate other sufferers who had
fallen or fainted on the walk. A crippled man would cling to the tail of
a wagon, while the tongue would be burdened with two, sustaining
themselves by the backs of the horses. Water was sought for everywhere,
and all were hungry. I met at sundry times, friends who had passed me,
hopeful and humorous the day before, now crawling wearily with a
shattered leg or dumb with a stiff and dripping jaw. To realize the
horror of the night, imagine a common clay road, in a quiet, rolling
country, packed with bleeding people,--the fences down, horsemen riding
through the fields, wagons blocking the way, reinforcements in dark
columns hurrying up, the shouting of the well to the ill, and the feeble
replies,--in a word, recall that elder time when the "earth was filled
with violence," and add to the idea that the time was in the night.
I assumed my old role of writing the names of the wounded, but when, at
nine o'clock, the 10th Maine regiment--a fragment of the proud column
which passed me in the morning--returned, I hailed Colonel Beale, and
reined with him into a clover-field, the files following wearily.
Tramping through the tall garbage, with few words, and those spoken in
low tones, we stopped at length in a sort of basin, with the ground
rising on every side of us. The men were placed in line, and the Company
Sergeants called the rolls. Some of the replies were thrilling, but all
were prosaic:--
"Smith!"
"Smith fell at the first fire, Sergeant. Bill, here, saw him go down."
"Sturgis!"
"Sam's in the ambulance, wi' his thigh broke. I don't believe he'll
live, Sergeant!"
"Thompson!"
"Dead."
"Vinton!"
"Yar! (feebly said) four fingers shot off!"
In this way, the long lists were read over, while the survivors chatted,
laughed, and disputed, talking of the incidents of the day. Most of the
men lay down in the clover, and some started off in couples to procure
water. The field-officers gave me some items relative to the conflict,
and as they were ordered to remain here, I resolved to pass the night
with them. Obtaining a great fence-rail, I lashed my horse to it by his
halter, and, removing his saddle and bridle, left him free to graze in
the vicinity. Then I unfolded my camp-bed, covered myself with a rubber
blanket, and continued to listen to the conversation. Of course,
accusations, bitter mutterings, moodiness, and melancholy, prevailed. I
heard these for some time, interspersed with sententious eulogies upon
particular persons, and references to isolated events. The evening was
one of the pleasantest of the year, in all that nature could contribute;
a fine starlight, a transparent atmosphere, a coolness, and a fragrance
of sweet-clover blossoms. I had laid my head upon my arm, and shut my
eyes, and felt drowsiness come upon me, when something hurtled through
the air, and another gun boomed on the stillness. A shell, describing an
arc of fire, fell some distance to our left, and, in a moment, a second
shell passed directly over our heads.
"----!" said an officer; "have they moved a battery so close? See! it is
just at the end of this field!"
I looked back! At the top of the basin in which we lay, something
flashed up, throwing a glare upon the woody background, and a shell,
followed by a shock, crashed ricochetting, directly in a line with us,
but leaped, fortunately, above us, and continued its course far beyond.
"They mean 'em for us," said the same voice; "they see these lights
where the fools have been warming their coffee. Halloo!"
Another glare of fire revealed the grouped men and horses around the
battery, and for a moment I thought the missile had struck among us.
There was a splutter, as of shivering metal flying about, and, with a
sort of intuition, the whole regiment rose and ran. I started to my feet
and looked for my horse. His ears were erect, his eyeballs distended,
and his nostrils were tremulous with fright. A fifth shell, so perfectly
in range that I held my breath, and felt my heart grow cold, came toward
and passed me, and, with a toss of his head, the nag flung up the rail
as if it had been a feather. He seemed literally to juggle it, and it
flitted here and there, so that I dared not approach him. A favorable
opportunity at length ensued, and I seized the animal by his halter. He
was now wild with panic, and sprang toward me as if to trample me. In
vain I endeavored to pull him toward the saddle. Fresh projectiles
darted beside and above us, and the last of these seemed to pass so
close that I could have reached and touched it. The panic took
possession of me. I grasped my camp-bed, rather by instinct than by
choice, and, holding it desperately under my arm, took to my heels.
It was a long distance to the bottom of the clover-field, and the swift
iron followed me remorselessly. At one moment, when a shell burst full
in my face, half blinding me, I felt weak to faintness, but still I ran.
I had wit enough to avoid the high road, which I knew to be packed with
fugitives, and down which, I properly surmised, the enemy would send his
steady messengers. Once I fell into a ditch, and the breath was knocked
out of my body, but I rolled over upon my feet with marvellous
sprightliness, till, at last, when I gained a corn-field, my attention
was diverted to a strange, rattling noise behind me. I turned and
looked. It was my horse, the rail dangling between his legs, his eyes on
fire in the night. As we regarded each other, a shell burst between us.
He dashed away across the inhospitable fields, and I fell into the high
road among the routed. Expletives like these ensued:--
"Sa-a-ay! Hoss! Pardner! Are you going to ride over this wounded
feller?"
"Friend, have you a drop of water for a man that's fainted here?"
"Halloo! Buster! Keep that bayonit out o' my eye, if you please!"
"Where's Gen. Banks? I hearn say he's a prisoner."
"I do' know!"
"Was we licked, do you think?"
"No! We warn't nothin' o' the kind. Siegel's outflanked 'em and okkepies
the field. A man jus' told me so."
"Huzza! Hearties, cheer up! Siegel's took the field, and Stonewall
Jackson's dead."
"Three cheers for Siegel."
"Hoorooar, hoor--"
"Oh! Get out! That's all blow. Don't try stuff me! We're lathered;
that's the long and shawt of it."
"Is that so? Boys, I guess we're beat!"
Such was the character of exclamations that ran here and there, and
after a little volley of them had been let off, a long pause succeeded,
when only the sighs of the injured and the tramp of men and nags broke
the silence. Overhead the starlight and the blue sky; on either side the
rolling, shadowy fields; and wrapping the horizon in a gray, grisly
girdle, the reposing woods plentiful with dew. Nature was putting forth
all her still, sweet charms, as if to make men witness the damned
contrast of their own wrath, violence, and murder. Even thus,
perhaps,--I reasoned,--in the days of old, did the broken multitudes of
Xerxes return by the shores of the golden Archipelago; and the
Hellespont shone as peacefully as these silvernesses of earth and
firmament. The dulness of history became invested with new intelligence.
I filled in the details of a thousand routs conned in school-days, when
only the dry outlines lay before me. They were mysteries before, and
lacked the warmness of life and truth; but now I _saw_ them! The armor
and the helmets fell away, with all other trappings of custom, language,
and ceremony. This pale giant, who walked behind the ambulance, leaning
upon the footboard, was the limping Achilles, with the arrow of Paris
festering in his heel. This ancient veteran, with his back to the field,
was the fugitive AEneas, leaving Troy behind. And these, around me,
belonged to the columns of Barbazona, scattered at Legnano by the
revengeful Milanese. Cobweb, and thick dust, and faded parchment had
somewhat softened those elder events; but in their day they were
tangible, practical, and prosaic, like this scene. Years will roll over
this, as over those, and folks will read at firesides, half doubtfully,
half wonderingly, the story of this bafflement, when no fragment of its
ruin remains. It was a profound feeling that I should thus be walking
down the great retreat of time, and that the occurrences around me
should be remembered forever!
There were a few prisoners in the mass, walking before cavalry-men.
Nobody interfered with them, and they were not in a position to feel
elated. Now and then, when we reached an ambulance, the fugitives would
press around it to inquire if any of their friends were within. Rough
recognitions would ensue, as thus:--
"Bobby, is that you, back there?--Bobby Baker?"
"Who is it?" (feebly uttered.)
"Me, Bobby--Josh Wiggins. Are you shot bad, Bobby?"
"Shot in the thigh; think the bone's broke. You haven't got a drop of
water, have you?"
"No, Bobby; wish I had. Have anymore of our boys been hurt that you know
of?"
"Switzer is dead; Bill Cringle and Jonesy are prisoners; 'Pud' White is
in the ambulance ahead; 'Fol' Thompson's lost an arm; that's all I
know."
When we had gone two miles or more, we found a provost column drawn
across the road, and a mounted officer interrogating all who attempted
to pass:--
"Stop there! You're not wounded."
"Yes, I am."
"Pass on! Halt boy! Go back. Men, close up there. Stop that boy."
"I am sun-struck, Major."
"You lie! Drive him back. Go back, now!"
Beyond this the way was comparatively clear; but as I knew that other
guards held the road further on, I passed to the right, and with the
hope of finding a rill of water, went across some grass fields, keeping
toward the low places. The fields were very still, and I heard only the
subdued noises wafted from the road; but suddenly I found myself
surrounded by men. They were lying in groups in the tall grass, and
started up suddenly, like the clansmen of Roderick Dhu. At first I
thought myself a prisoner, and these some cunning Confederates, who had
lain in wait. But, to my surprise, they were Federal uniforms, and were
simply skulkers from various regiments, who had been hiding here during
the hours of battle. Some of these miserable wretches asked me the
particulars of the fight, and when told of the defeat, muttered that
they were not to be hood-winked and slaughtered.
"I was sick, anyway," said one fellow, "and felt like droppin' on the
road."
"I didn't trust my colonel," said another; "he ain't no soldier."
"I'm tired of the war, anyhow," said a third, "and my time's up soon; so
I shan't have my head blown off."
As I progressed, dozens of these men appeared; the fields were strewn
with them; a true man would rather have been lying with the dead on the
field of carnage, than here, among the craven and base. I came to a
spring at last, and the stragglers surrounded it in levies. One of them
gave me a cup to dip some of the crystal, and a prayerful feeling came
over me as the cooling draught fell over my dry palate and parched
throat. Regaining the road, I encountered reinforcements coming rapidly
out of Culpepper, and among them was the 9th New York. My friend
Lieutenant Draper, recognized me, and called out that he should see me
on the morrow, if he was not killed meantime. Culpepper was filling with
fugitives when I passed up the main street, and they were sprinkled
along the sidewalks, gossiping with each other. The wounded were being
carried into some of the dwellings, and when I reached the Virginia
Hotel, many of them lay upon the porch. I placed my blanket on a clean
place, threw myself down exhaustedly, and dropped to sleep directly.