The fall of 1861 will ever be remembered by the survivors of the
regiment, as the most pleasant experienced by them during the whole war.
We had an abundance of clothing and wholesome food, whilst there was no
scarcity of money with which to indulge in even some of the luxuries of
life. And then the monotony of the camp was often changed to the
excitement of picketing in front of the enemy on Mason’s and Munson’s
Hills, in the capture of both of which the First Maryland bore a
conspicuous part. In the engagement at the latter place, we lost a
private of Company I killed, and Lieutenant Mitchell, of the same
company, badly wounded. During these picket reliefs, we had daily
encounters with the enemy, in which we invariably got the better of him.
The first that occurred I will relate, as Mr. Captain Edelin then and
there gave us a specimen of military skill acquired on the head of a
kettle-drum in Mexico.
It was on the morning after the capture of Mason’s Hill, that Colonel
Smith, the officer in command, wishing to advance his pickets as far as
Clampitt’s house, a mile in front of the main body, detailed Edelin for
the duty. He moved his company forward through a thicket, and in a few
minutes we were startled by the rapid discharges of musketry, which led
Colonel Smith to believe he had encountered a heavy force of the enemy.
Captain James R. Herbert’s company and my own were immediately sent to
his support. Coming up with Edelin, he informed us that he had met a
regiment of infantry, but, after a stubborn fight, the enemy had
retreated, carrying his dead and wounded along.
“But,” said he, “they are in the woods before us, and I must have
artillery to drive them out;” and, turning to an orderly, he directed
him to post off to Colonel Smith and request that officer to send him a
battery forthwith.
I saw an expression of ineffable contempt and disgust spread over the
face of Lieutenant Costello, of his company, who, calling me aside,
informed me that the sight of but one picket had occasioned all the
firing, and that by the Captain’s orders.
The courier dispatched to the commandant soon returned with the not very
polite reply that “Captain Edelin was a d—d fool, and he wanted no more
such crazy requests.”
“Puss in Boots,” as he was usually called, dropped his feathers
instanter, but was heard to mutter something about “challenge,”
“duel.” Being the senior officer, he had command of the three
companies—something which neither Herbert nor myself relished in the
least; and we, therefore, requested to be returned, as there was not
the least likelihood of the enemy appearing in any force. Herbert’s
request was granted; but I was ordered to remain where I was.
A short time after two Yankee soldiers accidentally wandered into our
lines and were captured. Here was a chance for our hero to win back the
good opinion of the Colonel; so, mounting a great tall horse, (he was a
very little man) he, in a pompous and important manner, marched the
poor, half-frightened wretches into the presence of Col. Smith, to whom
he told a wonderful story of the skill and strategy he had displayed in
their capture.
Being in command during his absence, and not feeling altogether
satisfied with the position we held, I concluded to make a
reconnoissance. Lieutenants Shearer and Costello were therefore
detailed, and, with a squad of men, directed to move forward until they
encountered the enemy’s pickets. In a few minutes the crack of several
rifles told me they had found them. Fearing the party had perhaps fallen
in with a superior force, I advanced with a few men to render assistance
if required. Upon reaching them, however, I found it was but a single
picket they had stumbled upon, who was shot and killed in attempting to
escape.
Edelin had heard the firing, and came down the road at full speed, but,
halting his horse at a safe distance, bawled out:
“Come back, come back; you’ll all git killed.”
Withdrawing my men, I rejoined the main body, where I was saluted with,
“Capting, how dare you do anythink of this kind without my orders?”
I explained to him that my purpose was to find a safer place in which to
post the men, and suggested that we should move the whole command back
to where I had just left.
“I shall do no sich thing,” he answered. “You never fit in Mexico, and,
therefore, what in the devil do you know about _plannin a military
battle_.”
Late in the fall the enemy in our front grew restless; and Generals
Johnston and Beauregard thought it expedient to withdraw from Munson’s
and Mason’s, and concentrate the whole army on the heights of
Centreville, as everything indicated an advance of the immense army
assembled around Washington. Therefore leaving at Munson’s a small
party, with an old stove pipe mounted on cart wheels, to annoy the
Federal advance, we took a last look into the streets of Alexandria, and
at the detested Federal Capitol, and marched to our new quarters at
Centreville.
It was with regret we left our old camp at Fairfax Station, around which
lingered so many pleasant associations of the past; and our last
reveille seemed to make sad the hearts of all; and the summons to fall
in was not as promptly responded to as on former occasions. Never again
were the hearty, joyous shouts of the Maryland boys to be heard through
its now deserted streets, nor the heavy tramp and the sharp command, as
the battalion performed, to astonished, gaping thousands, those
intricate evolutions inimitable. No, nor the unhappy sentinel to be
frightened to death by the fearful shriek of “Indians got you! Indians
got you!” when it turned out only to be our good Colonel making his
_periodical_ grand rounds. And never more was the gallant Elzey to
display his superb horsemanship to the fair daughters of Baltimore on a
visit to the camp, but which performance, much to their disappointment
and regret, was brought to an abrupt termination by the breaking of a
stirrup strap. No, never, never! all is past and gone forever! Even the
old guard house and the Colonel’s pen, that had ever and for so long
extended to the refractory ones a hearty welcome and tender,
affectionate embrace, were bid a sad, sad farewell.
Centreville, when we reached it, presented a scene of bustle and
confusion. Troops were arriving in large numbers, and were striving to
reach the grounds selected for the respective regiments and brigades all
over the same road. At last, tired and hungry, the brigade of Elzey
halted upon the very summit of one of the highest hills around the
place.
The sight that presented itself from this point that night was one of
the grandest I ever witnessed. Before us, as far as the eye could reach,
flashed thousands upon thousands of camp fires; and spell-bound we gazed
upon this grand pyrotechnic display for hours. And then the next day,
and for days after, the evolutions of forty thousand troops of all arms
in the plain below us, was a scene indescribably grand.