The sun rose next day bright and beautiful, and, the scene that
presented itself as we responded to reveille was animated indeed. The
troops were eagerly crowding into the cars prepared to convey them to
the battle field, and, from the boisterous mirth to be heard on all
sides, one would have supposed them on their way to participate in some
grand holiday parade instead of scenes of death and carnage.
Several regiments had been forwarded, and all were impatiently awaiting
their turn, when we met with a disaster that threw a damper over all,
and well nigh lost us the first battle of Manassas. The engineers of two
of the trains were Yankees, who had been in the employ of the company
for a long time. These men, true to their natural instincts and
training, treacherously concocted a plan to collide their trains and
thereby delay the troops of Johnston so much needed by Beauregard; and
totally regardless of the consequences that might ensue to the hundreds
of brave men placed at their mercy, consummated their wicked designs.
Fortunately but few were hurt, and none killed; but an engine and train
were destroyed, and the road so blockaded and injured that the utmost
efforts of the large force immediately set to work failed to put it in
running order before next morning.
The loss of this train was a severe blow to us, as we now had but two
trains left. However, on the morning of the 21st of July these two
resumed their trips, and each had made a successful run when, in making
the second, the engine of the hindmost train—upon which was Kirby
Smith’s brigade—broke down, and we were consequently delayed until the
return of the first engine, some two hours and a half. The battle had
been raging since morning, and the whole of the army should have reached
Beauregard the evening before, whereas barely two-thirds had joined him
at the close of the fight.
It was nearly one o’clock when we disembarked at Manassas, where we
found an officer of Johnston’s staff awaiting with an order for us to
push forward with all possible dispatch.
Hastily throwing off their knapsacks, the troops struck across the
country in the direction of the smoke of battle and the sound of
artillery, which could now be plainly seen and heard. Not a breath of
air was stirring, and the heat and dust were almost suffocating; but on,
on we went, sometimes slacking our pace to a walk to recover breath, but
never halting until we had made four miles and were within a mile of the
battle-field. Here we stopped but for a minute to allow the men to fill
their canteens out of a muddy little stream, when the march was resumed
at the same rapid gait, the gallant Smith at our head, encouraging us to
“push on.”
As we neared the field, we knew by the rapid discharges of artillery and
the incessant rattle of musketry, that the fight was being stubbornly
contested. We presently began to meet the wounded, one of whom to our
inquiry as to how the fight was going, answered, “Go on, boys, go on;
but I’m afeared you’ll be too late, for I’m thinkin’ they’re licken of
us. But go on; there’s no tellin.”
All told us the same, but encouraged us to press forward, as we “might
get there in time yet.” As we drew nearer the field, the enemy were made
aware of our approach by the clouds of dust we raised, and several
pieces of artillery were trained upon us. The scene that presented
itself as we emerged from a strip of pines was frightful indeed, and in
no way calculated to encourage us to advance farther. Wagons in great
numbers were coming to the rear at headlong speed, and demoralized
fugitives by hundreds from the battle-field were rushing frantically by,
crying out, “All is lost, all is lost; go back, or you’ll be cut to
pieces; the army is in full retreat,” etc. And indeed so it seemed; for
presently we met a whole regiment coming off, and, upon making inquiry
for the cause, we were coolly told that “They had got somewhat _tangled_
in the fight; and as we were whipped and retreating, they didn’t think
it worth while to stay any longer.”
But amid prospects so discouraging, the command from our gallant general
was ever “Forward, forward, my brave men! pay no attention to those
miserable cowards and skulkers.”
The First Maryland had the right of the line, at the head of which was
riding General Kirby Smith. We were still marching by the flank, when,
just as the column entered a strip of woods, it was fired upon by about
a dozen of the 14th Brooklyn Zouaves; and the general fell from his
horse shot through the neck, and it was feared at the time fatally
wounded. Corporal John Berryman, of Company C, First Maryland, fell at
the fire also, with a dreadful wound through the groin. The regiment, as
did the brigade, formed line of battle instinctively, and, not knowing
what might be the enemy’s force, prepared for an attack.
The command now devolved upon Colonel Elzey, the senior officer, who,
after waiting some minutes, and the enemy not appearing, moved the
brigade obliquely through the woods to the left and front, and as we
approached its edge the Federal line of battle appeared in view, which,
as they perceived us, poured into our ranks a terrific volley of
musketry, that took effect upon several of the men of the brigade.
Private John Swisher, of Company A, First Maryland, fell from a musket
ball in the head, and died soon after, being the first man from Maryland
killed in actual battle.
Colonel Elzey immediately prepared to attack. Holding the Thirteenth
Virginia in reserve, he formed the First Maryland, Tenth Virginia, and
Third Tennessee, and under cover of a hot fire from the Newtown battery
of light artillery, ordered a “charge!”
The enemy held a strong position on a ridge difficult of ascent, and
immediately in front of a dense pine thicket. At least three hundred
yards separated us, and the charge was to be across a wheatfield, and of
course without shelter of any description. It was a desperate
undertaking; but upon that charge rested the fate of the Confederate
army. At the command, with one wild, deafening-yell, the Confederates
emerged from the woods, and, amidst a perfect storm of bullets, the
gallant fellows rushed across the field. But they never wavered nor
hesitated, and, dashing up the acclivity, drove the enemy pell-mell from
their strong position into the thicket in their rear.
Halting the column for a minute to reform, Elzey pressed on in pursuit;
and, when we came once more into the open country, we saw before us, and
for a mile down to our right, no organized force, but one dense mass of
fugitives. With the successful charge of Elzey upon their right flank,
the whole of the Federal army had given way, and was rushing madly in
the direction of Washington. Nothing that I ever saw afterwards could
compare with that panic; and, as we pressed on in pursuit, men
surrendered themselves by hundreds.
It was whilst thus pursuing the enemy that President Davis and Generals
Johnston and Beauregard rode up to Colonel Elzey, amid the joyful shouts
of the men, and the former, with countenance beaming with excitement and
enthusiasm, seizing him by the hand, and giving it a hearty shake,
exclaimed: “_General_ Elzey, you are the Blucher of the day.”
Inclining to the right, the command halted for a few minutes near the
Henry House, and close by the famous Rickett’s battery, which had been
captured by the Eighth Georgia infantry, after a most desperate
struggle. The ground was thickly strewn with the dead and wounded of the
Seventy-Ninth New York Highlanders, which gallant regiment had supported
the battery. The wounded were suffering terribly for water; and our men
spent every moment in attending to their wants.
A little incident occurred here which I shall relate. Among the fatally
wounded was an officer who, from his uniform, we knew to be a captain.
The poor fellow had been shot through the head, and was about to breathe
his last. Thinking to relieve him, Captain (afterwards Colonel) Herbert
unbuttoned his coat, when he discovered a pocket-book and a package of
letters in one of the pockets. Taking possession of them, he attended
the wounded officer until he died. Upon examining the pocket-book, he
found it contained some sixty-five or seventy dollars in gold; the
letters were from his wife, and proved his name to be Brown. Two years
after Captain Herbert was wounded and taken prisoner upon the field of
Gettysburg. He had never parted with the gold nor the letters, and when
sufficiently recovered from his wounds, he caused to be inserted in the
New York _Herald_ an advertisement calling upon the widow of the
deceased officer to come forward and claim the property. In due time she
made her appearance, a charming Scotch woman, not, as she said for the
sake of claiming the money, but to hear from his own lips all about the
last moments of her husband. She had received an imperfect account of
his being shot from some of his men, but wished to learn of his death.
Never shall I forget the look of gratitude she gave the Captain when he
finished his story, (for the author was present at the interview,) and
seizing his feeble hand, while great tears stole down her beautiful
cheeks, she heaped upon him a thousand blessings.
She was our constant attendant for a week afterwards, and when she left
us, seemed much affected. We subsequently learned from her that a
valuable and highly-prized watch that her husband had on his person when
shot, had been recovered with much difficulty, one of his own men having
appropriated it after his Captain’s fall.
Resuming our march, the column crossed the Stone Bridge, and took the
turnpike leading to Alexandria, confident that we were to pursue the
enemy to the very gates of his capital. But we were doomed to a bitter
disappointment; for, after marching a mile or two, we came to a
right-about, and silently retraced our steps to Manassas. Tired, hungry
and dispirited, we reached our camping ground long after nightfall, and,
despite a drenching rain that set in about 12 o’clock, enjoyed a
refreshing sleep.