We took the turnpike from Frederick City to Hagerstown, and along the
route we passed many an orchard heavily laden with fine apples and many
corn fields with luscious roasting ears; but we were not allowed to
gather a thing and rations were short. But at every cross road we would
find a lot of ladies with tables set with something to eat and coffee
and buckets of water. It was impossible for them to feed us all, but
what they did do helped out considerably and was highly appreciated. We
passed through Hagerstown at midday and went into camp in an oak grove
some two miles beyond the town. In passing through Hagerstown all the
stores remained open and none of the citizens seemed to be in the least
uneasy. As we were going down the street we saw a corner store with the
sign "Hager's Store." Standing in the doors of this store were a _lot_
of women and some children. Among them was a young girl some sixteen
years old, who was waving a United States flag and taunting us with "Why
don't you fight under this flag?" Some fellow in ranks remarked,
"Hagerstown, Hager's store, Hager's daughter--hurrah for Hager," and, as
was the custom, we gave them the yell. We remained in this grove outside
the town until the next day after midday, when the "long roll" called us
to "fall in." We were again marched through the town, this time in a
_double quick_, and took the turnpike for Boonesboro Gap, where we
could hear heavy musketry and cannonading going on. It was about sixteen
miles from where we were camped to the gap, and as we were needed there
badly we double quicked nearly the entire distance. Of course, we were
stopped a few minutes at intervals to rest and catch our breath. It
seems that this gap was the only way we had to get back into Virginia,
and the Yankees were trying to hold this against us. Had they succeeded
in doing this, Lee's army would be trapped, but our troops held them at
bay until Jenkins' Brigade got there about deep dusk. We found our
troops hard pressed on the side of the mountains only a few hundred
yards from the pass. We were immediately put into position and relieved
those who had been fighting all day. Our orders were to hold our
position or die. After being in position here for some little time and
holding the enemy back, an officer rode up to near where Maj. Livingston
and I were and asked for the commanding officer. I hollered out, "Here
he is." He told Maj. Livingston that the enemy were being reinforced and
would charge us very shortly, and to save the pass long enough for our
army to succeed in getting by, that we would _charge first_--that the
orders to charge had been extended on our right and all movements would
be taken up from the right. Maj. Livingston turned to me and said,
"Frank, tell Company A to move as the regiment on its right moves, and
come on down the line and tell each company commander to move as the
right moves." I had hardly got the orders extended before I heard the
command, "Company A, forward," "Company B, forward." And on down the
line. We were in for it sure, and away we went--into a blaze of musketry
which lighted us on our way. We drove them back some little distance and
held our gain long enough for the rear of our army to pass through, when
we again heard the right extending orders. This time I heard, "Company A
in retreat," "Company B in retreat," and it was not long before we were
going through the gap--_the last of the army to pass through_. We found
a relief for us when we got through, which held them back till we were
safe on our road to Sharpsburg, which we reached some time late in the
afternoon, after having been fighting nearly all night and marching
since noon the day before. On reaching Sharpsburg we were stopped in an
apple orchard (our regiment) and we fared well. We remained in this
orchard that night, all next day and night. The second morning about
sunrise the Yankees opened their artillery from the heights on us, and
it seemed as if they had placed all the cannon _in the world_ up there;
it was certainly the heaviest and most terrific artillery firing during
the entire war, and has gone down in history as such. Fortunately for us
we were in a bottom and the worst of the shells went over us, but not
all. We had a good many hurt while in this position. Our batteries were
on the hill above us and were responding all they could. About 8 o'clock
we were ordered up the hill to protect our batteries; the enemy were
charging them. We went up the hill at a double quick. Our regiment was
on the left of the brigade and we were going left in front, which put us
to the front. I was trotting by the side of Maj. Livingston amid a furor
of bursting shells. About half way up the hill Maj. Livingston called to
me, saying, "Lead on, Frank, I am wounded." I called to Capt. Knotts,
who was the senior captain present, and told him to take command of the
regiment. We got in position on the hill in rear of a plank fence and
were told not to fire a shot till ordered to do so. While lying behind
the fence the Yankees were making their charge and coming down the
opposite hill in as pretty a line as on dress parade. In front of us,
and about midway, there was a stone fence in another apple orchard. The
Yankees were making for this fence, and, as I said before, were moving
on it at a double quick and a regular dress parade line. The old captain
commanding our batteries had shot himself out of balls, and, all his
horses being killed, he ordered his men to cut off the trace chains.
With these he loaded his pieces and fired. It seemed that as the chains
reached the ranks they spread themselves out full length and cut their
way broadside through. The old captain jumped up, yelled, and ordered
another load, with about the same result. This was done several times,
and finally the column began to waver and weaken. At this point a Yankee
colonel rode to the front with drawn sword and rallied his men, who were
about to give way. Just then I said to Kite Folk, from Bamberg, a boy
like myself, but a year or two older, "Let us shoot him." I picked up a
gun lying near me and Kite and I put our guns through the fence and
fired together. The colonel fell and was carried from the field. The
enemy fell back, but very soon came again. Forty-two years after this
occurrence I was running the Hotel Aiken. I was telling of this incident
one evening when a guest of the house, who had registered as ----
Johnson, said he knew the circumstance perfectly--that he was the major
of that regiment and when the colonel was killed, as stated, he took
command and received his promotion as lieutenant-colonel; that it was he
who led them back in the second charge. When the enemy made this second
charge we, too, made a charge, and the stone fence, spoken of before,
being about equal distance from each of us, it was a race, who and who.
We won the race, and when we fell in behind the fence the Yankees were
not more than fifteen steps away; but it was not long before they had
moved off, leaving a good crowd behind lying on the field. Could one
have been so situated on one of these hills with nothing to do but
witness the two forces making for that fence, the Yankees coming down
the hill on their side, moving in line as if on drill, determination on
their faces and a quick, steady step without a falter or a quaver--on
the other hill a lot of dirty, hungry, footsore, naked and barefoot men
lying behind that plank fence awaiting orders. Soon the order came, and
we were told to get to that stone fence. _No line for us._ Darling
Patterson, of Barnwell, was our color bearer, and he led off with our
flag waving overhead. The men followed, each one doing all he could to
get there first. We beat them to it, and when Patterson stuck his flag
staff into the ground we had the fence, and too well did they know it.
We tore loose into them, they not being more than fifteen steps distant.
They could not stand it--they broke in confusion and retired in about
the same order that we had advanced; but they were soon rallied and we
had it hot for some time. The fence, however, was a great protection to
us.
We were well protected by our stone fence in the apple orchard, but the
enemy kept us pretty well engaged in our front, and we had no time to
look around and see how other parts of our line were doing. We had been
fighting behind this fence for perhaps two or three hours when I was
surprised on looking around to see a long Georgia captain running from
where we had come in the morning, and coming directly to me. I was then
standing up under an apple tree eating an apple. On reaching me he said,
"Where is your gun, and why are you not shooting?" I replied, "I am the
colonel's orderly." He then asked for the colonel. I told him that the
regiment was right then without any one to command it. He told me to get
them back--the entire line had fallen back to our previous
position--that we were the only ones so advanced, and to look to the
right, coming from the direction of the barn, and I would see we were
about already surrounded. I yelled out, "First South Carolina,
retreat," and I led off. The enemy were so close in our rear when we
left the fence that we had to run _around_ the _head of their column;_
but every man succeeded in passing around them. But then we had a long,
sloping hill to go up--nothing to break the view--an open field. Away we
went, and while I was doing all I knew how in the way of running, and
when I had about covered half the distance back, I ran up on Talt Best,
from Allendale, lying flat on his back, shot through the thigh. He had
lain there for several hours, being shot down when we advanced. Talt was
holding out his arms and asked me piteously, "Frank, don't leave me here
to die." It looked like death to me to stop, but I could not resist the
appeal. I stooped down, raised him up. Just then Sid Key, from Joyce's
Branch, ran up and I asked Sid to help me get Talt off. We got him back
to our former line, where we turned him over to the litter bearers, and
we got to our positions. We had not been there over five minutes when
Sid Key was shot. We received orders to prepare to advance, and I
recollect Lieut. Jack Stansell, of Company E, waving his sword, cried
out, "Forward, Company E." After repeating this several times and
getting no response he discovered that he had but one man left
in Company E, Arthur Thompson, of Elko. He then cried, "Forward,
Thompson, go it, Thompson." Almost simultaneously a minnie ball passed
through Thompson's body and a piece of shell hit Lieut. Stansell on
the side of the knee. Both were carried off, and they were the last
men of Company E.
After getting quieted down enough to look around I commenced to see who
we could get to take command of the regiment. I have already told you
that Capt. Knotts was placed in command when Maj. Livingston told me he
was wounded. I could not find Capt. Knotts, nor had seen him the whole
time of our advance while we were holding the stone fence. I think I may
have failed to say heretofore that Jim Hagood had been appointed
sergeant-major to fill the place of Mortimer Glover, of Orangeburg. In
looking around for a regimental commander I discovered that there was
only one commissioned officer left in the regiment. This officer was
Lieut. Sweat, of Bamberg. I told him he would have to command the
regiment, being the only officer. He refused to do so, and, after some
thought, he told me to go to Sergt.-Major Jim Hagood and tell him to
assume command. This I did, and Jim Hagood, a non-commissioned officer
and an eighteen-year-old boy, took the command.
We held our ground the balance of the day and that night, and about
daybreak next morning we passed through Sharpsburg and recrossed the
Potomac into Virginia. While we were holding our ground on the
battlefield about midnight the cooks came up with some cooked rations.
Hagood sent me to ascertain how many men each company had left, so as to
divide equally. I recollect Company E had _not one_ and Company F only
one. So, you see, we were right badly used up.