The Battle of Manassas--Rout of the Enemy. Visit to the Battlefield.
Of the battle of the 18th, the enemy seemed to make little, and called
it a "demonstration" at which General Tyler exceeded his orders, and
pushed his troops too far. However, the Confederates were very well
satisfied with the contest where the first blood was drawn. General
Johnston, who at this time was up in the Shenandoah Valley, near
Winchester, was asked by General Beauregard to come to his relief. He
was confronted himself by General Patterson, an able Federal General,
with a largely superior army. This General Johnston had assurance to
believe was preparing to advance, and his own danger great. Still by
a strategem, he succeeded in quietly withdrawing his troops, and began
the hazardous undertaking of re-enforcing Beauregard. Some of his
troops he placed upon the cars at Piedmont, and sped along o'er
mountains and glens with lightning speed, while the others on foot
came over and through the torturous mountain passes without halt or
rest, bending all their energies to meet Beauregard upon the plains of
Manassas. Couriers came on foaming steeds, their bloody sides showing
the impress of the riders' spurs, bringing the glad tidings to the
Army of the Potomac that succor was near. Beauregard was busy with
the disposition of his troops, preparing to give battle, while the
soldiers worked with a will erecting some hasty breastworks.
At this point I will digress for the moment to relate an incident of
the Federal march, to show the brutal cowardice and baseness of
the Federals in making war upon the non-combatants--women and
children--and also the unyielding spirit and inflexible courage of
our Southern people. Those dispositions were manifested on both sides
throughout the whole war. It is unnecessary to say that feeling ran
high on the border, as elsewhere, and everyone was anxious to display
his colors in order to show to the world how his feelings ran.
Confederate flags waved from many housetops along the border, and
on the morning the Federals crossed the Potomac from Washington to
Alexandria, many little pieces of bunting, displaying stars and bars,
floated from the houses in that old sleeping city of Alexandria.
Among that number was a violent Secessionist named Jackson. Colonel
Ellsworth, commanding the New York Zouaves, the advance guard, ordered
all flags with Confederate devices to be torn down by force. The
soldiers thus engaged in the debasing acts of entering private
dwellings, insulting the inmates with the vilest epithets, ruthlessly
tore down the hated emblems of the South everywhere. When they came to
Jackson's house they met the fiery defender of his home on the landing
of the stairs, rifle in hand, who with determined air informed the
Federal soldiers that whoever lowered his flag would meet instant
death. Staggered and dazed by such a determined spirit, they lost no
time in reporting the fact to Colonel Ellsworth. Enraged beyond all
control by this cool impudence, Ellsworth rushed to Jackson's house,
followed by a squad of soldiers. On reaching the landing he, too, met
Jackson with his eyes flashing fire and determination, his whole
frame trembling with the emotion he felt, his rifle cocked and to his
shoulder, boldly declaring, "Whoever tears down that flag, dies in his
tracks." Ellsworth and party thought this threat could not be real,
and only Southern braggadocio. Brushing past the determined hero,
Ellsworth snatched the hated flag from its fastening, but at that
instant he fell dead at the feet of his adversary. The report of
Jackson's rifle told too plainly that he had kept his word. The
soldiers who had followed and witnessed the death of their commander,
riddled the body of the Southern martyr with bullets, and not
satisfied with his death, mutilated his body beyond recognition. Thus
fell the first martyr to Southern principles. The South never showed
this disposition of hatred on any occasion, for in after years while
marching through Pennsylvania Union flags floated unmolested from
housetops, over towns, and cities. The soldiers only laughed and
ridiculed the stars and stripes. The South feared no display of
sentiment, neither did they insult women and non-combatants.
A like occurrence happened in New Orleans a few years later, where
General Butler commanded, and gained the unenviable sobriquet of
"Beast" by his war upon the women and those not engaged in the
struggle, and by trampling upon every right and liberty sacred to the
people. He had issued some degrading order, which the citizens were
bound in pain of death to obey. One brave man, Mumford, refused,
preferring death to obeying this humiliating order. For this he was
torn from the embrace of his devoted family, and, in sight of his wife
and children, placed in a wagon, forced to ride upon his own coffin,
and in the public square was hanged like a felon.
General Johnston, with a portion of his troops, reached the field on
the 20th, and his forces were placed in rear of those of Beauregard
as reserves. On the night of the 20th, both opposing generals, by a
strange coincidence, had formed plans of the battle for the next day,
and both plans were identical. Beauregard determined to advance his
right by echelon of brigades, commencing with Ewell at Union Mills,
then Jones and Longstreet were to cross Bull Run, with Bonham as a
pivot, and attack McDowell in flank and rear. This was the identical
plan conceived and carried out by the enemy, but with little success,
as events afterwards showed. The only difference was McDowell got his
blow in first by pushing his advance columns forward up the Warrenton
Road on our left, in the direction of the Stone Bridge. He attacked
General Evans, who had the Fourth South Carolina and Wheat's Battalion
of Louisiana Tigers, on guard at this point, with great energy and
zeal. But under cover of a dense forest, he moved his main body of
troops still higher up the Run, crossed at Sudley's Ford, and came
down on Evans' rear. Fighting "Shanks Evans," as he was afterwards
called, met this overwhelming force with stubborn resistance and a
reckless courage. The enemy from the opposite side of the Run was
sending in a continued shower of shot and shell, which threatened
the annihilation of the two little six-pounders and the handful of
infantry that Evans had. But support soon reached him, the Brigade of
Bee's coming up; still he was pressed back beyond a small stream in
his rear. Bee, with his own and Bartow's Brigade, with a battery of
artillery, were all soon engaged, but the whole column was forced back
in the valley below. Jackson came upon the crest of the hill in their
rear at this juncture, and on this column the demoralized troops were
ordered to rally. It was here Jackson gained the name of "Stonewall,"
for Bee, to animate and reassure his own men, pointed to Jackson and
said: "Look at Jackson, he stands like a stonewall." But the gallant
South Carolinian who gave the illustrious chieftain the famous name of
"Stonewall" did not live long enough to see the name applied, for in
a short time he fell, pierced through with a shot, which proved fatal.
Hampton, with his Legion, came like a whirlwind upon the field, and
formed on the right, other batteries were brought into play, still the
enemy pressed forward. Stone Bridge being uncovered, Tyler crossed his
troops over, and joined those of Hunter and Heintzelman coming from
Sudley's Ford. This united the three divisions of the enemy, and
they made a vigorous and pressing assault upon the demoralized
Confederates. The roar of the cannon became continuous, the earth
trembled from this storm of battle, sulphurous smoke obscures the sky,
the air vibrates with shrieking shot and shell, men rush madly to
the charge. Our small six-pounders against their twelve and
twenty-pounders, manned by the best artillerists at the North, was
quite an uneven combat. Johnston and Beauregard had now come upon the
field and aided in giving order and confidence to the troops now badly
disorganized by the fury of the charge. The battle raged in all
its fierceness; the infantry and artillery, by their roaring and
thunder-like tone, gave one the impression of a continued, protracted
electrical storm, and to those at a distance it sounded like "worlds
at war." On the plateau between the Lewis House and the Henry House
the battle raged fast and furious with all the varying fortunes of
battle. Now victorious--now defeated--the enemy advances over hill,
across plateaus, to be met with stubborn resistance first, then driven
flying from the field. Around the Henry House the battle was desperate
and hand to hand. Here the Louisiana Battalion, under Major Wheat,
immortalized itself by the fury of its assault. Again and again was
the house taken and lost, retaken and lost again; the men, seeking
cover, rushed up around and into it, only to be driven away by the
storm of shot and shell sent hurling through it. Now our troops would
be dislodged, but rallying they rushed again to the assault and retook
it. Twelve o'clock came, and the battle was far from being decided.
Bartow fell, then Bee. The wounded and dead lay strewn over the entire
field from the Henry House to the bridge. Away to the left is seen the
glitter of advancing bayonets, with flags waving, and the steady tread
of long lines of soldiers marching through the open field. They are
first thought to be the enemy, seeking to turn our left. Officers and
men turned pale at the sight of the unexpected foe. Couriers were sent
to Longstreet and Bonham to prepare to cover the retreat, for the
day was now thought to be lost, and a retreat inevitable. The troops
proved to be friends. Elzeys and Kirby Smith on the way from the
Valley to Manassas, hearing the firing of the guns, left the cars and
hurried to the scene of action. Cheer after cheer now rent the air,
for relief was now at hand. They were put in on the left, but soon
General Kirby Smith fell wounded, and had to be borne from the field.
Other reinforcements were on the way to relieve the pressure that was
convincing to the generals commanding, even, that the troops could not
long endure. The Second and Eighth South Carolina Regiments, under
the command of Colonels Kershaw and Cash, were taken from the line at
Mitchell's Ford and hurried forward. When all the forces, were gotten
well in hand, a general forward movement was made. But the enemy met
it with a determined front. The shrieking and bursting of shells shook
the very earth, while the constant roll of the infantry sounded like
continual peals of heavy thunder. Here and there an explosion, like a
volcanic eruption, told of a caisson being blown up by the bursting of
a shell. The enemy graped the field right and left, and had a decided
advantage in the forenoon when their long range twenty-pounders played
havoc with our advancing and retreating columns, while our small four
and six-pounders could not reach their batteries. But in the after
part of the day, when the contending forces were nearer together,
Rickett's and Griffin's Batteries, the most celebrated at that time
in the Northern Army, could not stand the precision and impetuosity
of Kemper's, the Washington, Stannard's, Pendleton's, and Pelham's
Batteries as they graped the field. The Second and Eighth South
Carolina coming up at a double quick, joined Hampton's Legion, with
Early, Cox, and the troops from the Valley just in time to be of
eminent service at a critical moment. The clear clarion voice
of Kershaw gave the command, "Forward!" and when repeated in the
stentorian voice of Cash, the men knew what was expected of them,
answered the call, and leaped to the front with a will. The enemy
could no longer withstand the desperate onslaught of the Confederate
Volunteers, and McDowell now began to interest himself with the
doubtful problem of withdrawing his troops at this critical juncture.
With the rugged banks of the deep, sluggish stream in his rear, and
only a few places it could be crossed, with a long sheet of flame
blazing out from the compact lines of the Confederates into the faces
of his men, his position was perilous in the extreme. His troops must
have been of like opinion, for the ranks began to waver, then break
away, and soon they found themselves in full retreat. Kershaw, Cash,
and Hampton pressed them hard towards Stone Bridge. A retreat at first
now became a panic, then a rout. Men threw away their baggage, then
their guns, all in a mad rush to put the stream between themselves
and the dreaded "gray-backs." Cannon were abandoned, men mounted the
horses and fled in wild disorder, trampling underfoot those who came
between them and safety, while others limbered up their pieces
and went at headlong speed, only to be upset or tangled in an
unrecognizable mass on Stone Bridge. The South Carolinians pressed
them to the very crossing, capturing prisoners and guns; among the
latter was the enemy's celebrated "Long Tom." All semblance of order
was now cast aside, each trying to leave his less fortunate neighbor
in the rear. Plunging headlong down the precipitous banks of the Run,
the terror-stricken soldiers pushed over and out in the woods and
the fields on the other side. The shells of our rifle and parrot guns
accelerated their speed, and added to their demoralization by hissing
and shrieking above their heads and bursting in the tree tops. Orders
were sent to Generals Bonham, Longstreet, and Jones, who were holding
the lower fords, to cross over and strike the flying fugitives in
the rear near Centerville. Colonels Williams and Bacon, with their
regiments, led by General Bonham, in person, crossed the stream at a
double quick, and began the pursuit of the stampeded troops. When we
reached the camps of the enemy, where they had bivouaced the night
before, the scene beggared description. On either side of the road
were piled as high as one could reach baggages of every description,
which the men had discarded before going into action. Blankets rolled
up, oilcloths, overcoats, tents, all of the very best material, piled
up by the hundreds and thousands. Pots and camp kettles hung over
fires, and from within came the savory smell of "rich viands with
rare condiments," being prepared to appease the keen appetite of the
battle-worn veterans after the day's victory. Great quarters of fresh
beef hung temptingly from the limbs of the trees, wagons filled with
arms and accoutrements, provisions, and army supplies, with not a few
well-laden with all the delicacies, tid-bits, and rarest old wines
that Washington could afford, to assuage the thirst of officers and
the men of note. Many of the high dignitaries and officials from the
Capitol had come out to witness the fight from afar, and enjoy the
exciting scene of battle. They were now fleeing through the woods
like men demented, or crouched behind trees, perfectly paralyzed with
uncertainty and fright. One old citizen of the North, captured by the
boys, gave much merriment by the antics he cut, being frightened out
of his wits with the thought of being summarily dealt with by the
soldiers. Some would punch him in the back with their bayonets, then
another would give him a thrust as he turned to ask quarters of the
first tormentor. The crisis was reached, however, when one of the
soldiers, in a spirit of mischief, called for a rope to hang him;
he thought himself lost, and through his tears he begged for mercy,
pleaded for compassion, and promised atonement. General Bonham riding
up at this juncture of the soldiers' sport, and seeing the abject fear
of the old Northern Abolitionist, took pity and showed his sympathy
by telling the men to turn him loose, and not to interfere with
non-combatants. He was told to run now, and if he kept the gait he
started with through the woods, not many hours elapsed before
he placed the placid waters of the Potomac between him and the
blood-thirsty Rebels. Strict orders were given to "stay in ranks," but
the sight of so much valuable plunder, and actual necessaries to the
soldiers, was too much for the poorly provided Confederates; and not
a few plucked from the pile a blanket, overcoat, canteen, or other
article that his wants dictated. A joke the boys had on a major was
that while riding along the line, waving his sword, giving orders not
to molest the baggage, and crying out, "Stay in ranks, men, stay in
ranks," then in an undertone he would call to his servant, "Get me
another blanket, Harvy." The artillery that had been ordered to take
part in the infantry's pursuit were just preparing to open fire upon
the fleeing enemy, when by some unaccountable order, the pursuit was
ordered to be abandoned. Had not this uncalled for order come at this
juncture, it is not hard to conceive the results. The greater portion
of the Federal Army would have been captured, for with the exception
of General Sykes' Brigade of regulars and a battery of regular
artillery, there was not an organization between our army and
Washington City. All night long the roads through Centerville, and the
next day all leading through Fairfax, Falls Church, and Anandale were
one continual throng of fleeing fugitives. Guns and accoutrements,
camp equipage, and ordnance strewed the sides of the road for miles;
wagons, ambulances, cannon, and caissons had been abandoned, and
terror-stricken animals galloped unbridled through the woods and
fields. The great herds of cattle, now free from their keepers, went
bellowing through the forest, seeking shelter in some secluded swamp.
At night, we were all very reluctantly ordered back to our old camp
to talk, rejoice, and dream of the wonderful victory. Beauregard
and Johnston had in this engagement of all arms 30,888, but 3,000 of
Ewell's and part of Bonham's Brigade were not on the field on that
day. The enemy had 50,000 and 117 cannon. Confederate loss in killed
and wounded, 1,485. Federal loss in killed, wounded, and captured,
4,500. There being no enemy in our front and little danger of
surprise, the soldiers were allowed to roam at will over the
battlefield the next few days. Almost the entire army availed
themselves of this their first opportunity of visiting a real
battlefield and witnessing the real horrors and carnage of which they
had often read and seen pictures but had never seen in reality.
Who is it that has ever looked upon a battlefield and could forget the
sickening scene, or obliterate from his mind the memory of its dreaded
sight? It was recorded of the great Napoleon, by one of his most
intimate friends and historians, that after every great battle the
first thing he did the next day was to ride over the field, where lay
the dead and wounded, and when he would come to those points where the
battle had been desperate and the dead lay thickest, he would sit as
in a trance, and with silence and meditation never witnessed on other
occasions, view the ghastly corpses as they lay strewn over the field.
The field of carnage had a fascinating power over him he could not
resist, and on which his eyes delighted to feast. With a comrade
I went to visit the field of Manassas. Passing over the uneven and
partly wooded country, we witnessed all the effect of the enemy's
rifled guns. Trees were cut down, great holes dug in the ground where
shells had exploded, broken wagons, upset ambulances, wounded and dead
horses lining the whole way. The first real scene of carnage was on
the plateau of the Lewis house. Here the Virginians lying behind the
crest of the hill as the enemy emerged from the woods on the other
side, gave them such a volley as to cause a momentary repulse, but
only to renew their attack with renewed vigor. The battle here was
desperate. Major Wheat with his Louisianians fought around the Henry
house with a ferocity hardly equalled by any troops during the war.
Their peculiar uniform, large flowing trousers with blue and white
stripes coming only to the knees, colored stockings, and a loose
bodice, made quite a picturesque appearance and a good target for the
enemy. These lay around the house and in front in almost arm's length
of each other. This position had been taken and lost twice during the
day. Beyond the house and down the declivity on the other side, the
enemy's dead told how destructive and deadly had been the Confederate
fire. On the other plateau where Jackson had formed and where Bee and
Bartow fell, the scene was sickening. There lay friend and foe face
to face in the cold embrace of death. Only by the caps could one be
distinguished from the other, for the ghouls of the battlefield had
already been there to strip, rob, and plunder. Beyond the ravine to
the left is where Hampton and his Legion fought, as well as the troops
of Kirby Smith and Elzey, of Johnston's army, who had come upon the
scene just in time to turn the tide of battle from defeat to victory.
On the right of Hampton was the Eighth and Second South Carolina under
Kershaw. From the Lewis house to the Stone Bridge the dead lay in
every direction. The enemy in their precipitate flight gave the
Confederates ample opportunity to slay at will. The effects of
artillery here were dreadful. Rickett's Battery, the best in the
North, had pushed their guns far in advance of the infantry, and swept
the field with grape and canister. Here was a caisson blown up by
a shell from Kemper's Battery, and the havoc was frightful. Six
beautiful horses, all well caparisoned and still attached to the
caisson, all stretched as they had fallen, without so much as a
struggle. The drivers lay by the side of the horses, one poor fellow
underneath and badly mutilated. To one side and near by lay the
officer in command and his horse, the noble animal lying as he had
died in the beautiful poise he must have been in when the fatal shot
struck him. His hind legs straightened as if in the act of rearing,
his forefeet in the air, one before the other, the whole looking more
like a dismantled statue than the result of a battlefield. Fragments
of shells, broken guns, knapsacks, and baggage were scattered over
the plains. Details were busy gathering up the wounded and burying the
dead. But from the looks of the field the task seemed difficult. In
the little clusters of bushes, behind trees, in gullies, and in every
conceivable place that seemed to offer shelter, lay the dead. What
a shudder thrills the whole frame when you stand and contemplate
the gruesome faces of the battle's dead. In every posture and all
positions, with every conceivable shade of countenance, the glaring,
glassy eyes meet you. Some lay as they fell, stretched full length
on the ground; others show a desperate struggle for the last few
remaining breaths. There lay the beardless youth with a pleasant smile
yet lingering on his face as though waiting for the maternal kiss; the
cold stern features of the middle aged as he lay grasping his trusty
rifle, some drawn up in a perfect knot of agony, others their faces
prone upon the earth, all dead, dead. Great pools of blood here and
there had saturated the earth, the victim perhaps crawling to a nearby
shelter or some little glen, hoping to gain a mouthful of water to
cool his parched lips, or perhaps some friendly hand had carried him
away to a hospital. Few of our troops had been molested by the body
snatchers of the battlefield, but the enemy had almost invariably been
stripped of his outer clothing. On the incline of the far side of a
little hill spots were pointed out where the gallant South Carolinian,
Bee, had fallen, while rallying his men for the final assault, and
also the brave Georgian, Colonel Bartow, in a like endeavor.
We came to the Henry house, on the opposite plateau from the Lewis
house, the former at this time almost as noted as the little log hut
at Waterloo that stood half a century before as a landmark to the fall
of Napoleon. They were common, old fashioned frame houses, occupied
by some poor people on this frightful day. The battle came with such
suddeness and unexpectancy, the unfortunate inmates could not get
away, and there throughout the bloody day these three Henry women had
endured all the dread, excitement, and dangers of a great battle, and
forced to remain between the opposing armies. The house was perfectly
riddled with minnie balls, while great openings were torn in the side
and roofs by the shells shattering through. There was no escape or
place of safety. They stretched themselves at full length upon the
floor, calmly awaiting death, while a perfect storm of shot and shell
raged without and within. As we went in the house two women sat around
the few mouldering embers that had answered the purpose of cooking
a hasty meal. It was a single room house, with two beds, some cheap
furniture, and a few cooking utensils. These were torn into fragments.
In one corner lay the dead sister, who had been shot the day before,
with a sheet thrown over to shield her from the gaze of the curious.
The two sisters were eating a morsel unconcernedly, unconscious of the
surroundings, while the house was crowded during the day with sight
seers and curious questioners. On the other side of the room were some
wounded soldiers, carried in to be shielded from the rays of the July
sun, while all without lay in heaps the mangled dead. The exceeding
tension of excitement, fright, untold fear, that had been drawn around
them during the continuous struggle of the day before, had rendered
those women callous and indifferent to all surrounding appearance;
but their haggard faces told but too plainly their mental anguish and
bodily suffering of yesterday. The eyes tire of the sickening scene,
and the mind turns from this revolting field of blood, and we return
heartstricken to our camp. The poor crippled and deserted horses limp
over the field nibbling a little bunch of grass left green in places
after the day of mad galloping of horses. Everywhere we saw friends
hunting friends. Relief corps had come up from Richmond and were
working night and day relieving the suffering and moving the wounded
away. Cars were run at short intervals from Manassas, carrying the
disabled to Warrentown, Orange Court House, Culpepper, and Richmond.
President Davis had come up just after the battle had gone in our
favor, and the soldiers were delighted to get a glimpse at our
illustrious chieftain. It was needless to say Beauregard's star was
still in the ascendant.
* * * * *