On the afternoon and evening of the 9th, Jackson leisurely moved his
almost exhausted troops up the mountain until he reached its summit,
where he went into camp to afford rest to his men after their arduous
campaign.
But there was work yet to be done, though the nature of which we were
then totally ignorant. Jackson could not long remain idle, and three
days after the battle of Port Republic found us moving down the
mountain’s side in the direction of Weir’s Cave, where we again went
into camp, and were given to understand that our stay would be a long
one. But the veterans of Jackson’s division, who knew him best, shook
their heads, and were heard to say, “with Jackson a long stay means a
short one, with plenty of marching and fighting ahead, now mark it.” And
so it proved in this instance, as will be seen.
The day after our arrival at Weir’s Cave, the First Maryland was ordered
to Staunton to muster out companies H and I, whose terms of service had
expired, and also to muster in a new company just arrived from Richmond
under command of Captain Barry.
Before our departure General Ewell issued the following General Order
complimenting the command upon their gallant bearing at Harrisonburg,
and directing that one of the buck’s tail captured by them in that
battle, should be appended to their colors:
HEADQUARTERS THIRD DIVISION.
GENERAL ORDERS, NO. 30.
In commemoration of the gallant conduct of the First Maryland
Regiment on the 6th of June, when led by Colonel Bradley T. Johnson
they drove back with loss the “Pennsylvania Bucktail Rifles” in the
engagement near Harrisonburg, Rockingham County, Virginia, authority
is given to have one of the captured “bucktails” (the insignia of
the Federal Regiment,) appended to the color-staff of the First
Maryland Regiment.
By order of MAJ. GEN. EWELL.
JAMES BARBUR, A. A. G.
The farewell at Staunton with our comrades of companies H and I was a
most affecting one. For more than a year we had shared the privations of
the camp and the march, had stood shoulder to shoulder on more than one
bloody field, and had learned to love each other as only a soldier can
love his companion.
Our new company was composed principally of young men from the lower
counties of Maryland, and was a fine body, although totally
inexperienced. Captain Barry himself was an old soldier, having served
in Mexico with considerable distinction.
From what we saw at Staunton, we were led to believe our stay would be a
short one, for large bodies of troops were arriving from Richmond, and
we did not doubt for a moment but we were destined up the valley after
Fremont, and perhaps for the invasion of Maryland. How great our
mistake, and the transportation of these very troops was intended to
convey that same impression to the enemy, and thereby keep McDowell from
uniting with McClellan, while Lee carried out his great plan of raising
the siege of Richmond with Jackson’s assistance.
And it succeeded; for the authorities at Washington were quickly
apprised of the fact, and instead of sending McClellan the
reinforcements he so earnestly plead for, they withheld them to repel
the audacious Jackson, should he dare to cross the Potomac, which they
did not doubt was his intention.
Suddenly, however, about the 22d of June, the whole army was put in
motion, and marching to Staunton, took the immense trains that had been
for some time quietly assembling there. Of our destination at first we
had not the slightest conception, but that we were moving in the
_direction_ of Richmond was evident. Could anything have befallen
General Lee? suggested itself, for everything indicated haste. By the
time we had reached Frederickshall, however, it was generally understood
we were destined to reinforce Lee, who, rumor had it, intended to
surprise McClellan if possible in his fortifications. This was the
terminus of the trip by rail, and disembarking we took the road by way
of Ashland.
On the afternoon of the 26th, whilst marching rapidly, some four or five
miles to the left of Mechanicsville, we were startled by heavy volleys
of musketry and the roar of artillery coming from that direction. It was
then I heard General Ewell, who was riding close by, exclaim, “that’s
the programme! that’s the programme! I think we have them now!” It was
but a few minutes after that the first Maryland, in the advance,
encountered the enemy, and a sharp fight ensued. We drove them before
us, however, for some distance, when we unexpectedly found ourselves in
the presence of a heavy column, and were obliged to halt until our main
body came up. During this time the utmost confusion seemed to prevail
within the enemy’s lines, and shortly after we had discovered them they
commenced to move precipitately to the rear.
That McClellan was surprised and utterly confounded, was now apparent,
and that the next day would initiate a bloody fight no one doubted. As
night was upon us, we determined to go into camp, not however until we
had taken every precaution to guard against a surprise. The fighting at
Mechanicsville still continued, and away in the night we could hear the
rattle of musketry and see the explosion of shells.
The morning of the 27th June broke bright and beautiful, and long before
the sun had risen the troops were on the march to attack the enemy. The
men were in high spirits, and the rivalry was intense between those who
had served with Jackson in the Valley and the reinforcements which had
reached us at Staunton, among which was Hood’s Texans, who were that day
to win a name that will live forever.
We had marched but a few miles when a large body of troops were observed
in motion to our right, and as General Jackson had received no notice
that any Confederates would move in that direction, he very naturally
supposed them to be the enemy, and immediately prepared to receive them,
for they were coming directly towards us. Still fearful there might be
some mistake, he withheld his artillery fire, but threw an occasional
shell in their midst to discover if possible who they were. At the first
shot they deployed their skirmishers with the most beautiful precision,
and advanced across the open field with great regularity, whilst the
heavy columns of infantry moved upon us, closed _en masse_ under cover
of a wood. A fearful tragedy was now about to be enacted, and was only
averted by the daring of Lieutenant George Booth, acting Adjutant of the
First Maryland. From the first he had maintained they were our troops,
whilst most of the officers, including General Jackson, were of the
opinion they were not. The uniforms of the skirmishers were darker than
we had ever before seen, and most of them wore white gaiters, something
entirely unknown in the army of Jackson. Nearer and nearer they
approached, and in a minute more we knew the mass of infantry must
debouche into the plain, when the hand of friend would unwittingly be
raised against friend. At this moment Lieutenant Booth, unable longer to
restrain himself, without orders, dashed spurs into his horse, and at
the risk of being shot to pieces, rode at full speed in the direction of
the advancing skirmishers. We watched him with breathless anxiety until
he reached the line, where halting a moment in conference with one of
the officers, he wheeled his horse and galloped back to inform us it was
Branch’s division of North Carolinians, which had lost its way. It was a
great relief, and we congratulated each other when we met upon the
timely discovery.
This affair, however, delayed us at least an hour, and we had no time to
spare. Onward, then, we pressed, our advance occasionally skirmishing
with the enemy, until we reached a dense pine forest, and here our
troubles commenced. The guides were, or seemed to be, ignorant of the
roads, and more than once we had to retrace our steps. Jackson was
furious, and for the first time I saw him out of humor. Long before this
he should have begun the fight, and here he was some distance from the
field. Finally, however, we extricated ourselves, and soon after, about
three o’clock in the afternoon, heavy skirmishing, and the occasional
roar of artillery in our front, told us we were up with the enemy and
developing his position.
As we neared the field the artillery and infantry fire increased in
volume, and it was evident that the advanced troops of Jackson were
hotly engaged, as were those of Hill on our right. Steadily the rattle
of musketry swelled as Jackson forwarded reinforcements, until it became
almost deafening. But as hour after hour passed, and that awful fire did
not recede, he began to show symptoms of uneasiness. Upon his success on
the left depended everything. Should he fail the splendidly conceived
plans of General Lee would fail also, and Richmond would be at the mercy
of the invader. Was it a wonder, then, that he rode nervously to and
fro, and appeared for the first time to fear that the gods of battle had
forsaken him? Every eye was upon the great chieftain as he galloped
along the lines of the troops held in reserve, and the anxious
expression upon that heretofore immovable countenance was observable to
all.
“General Elzey,” said he, riding up to that gallant officer, “move your
brigade forward; this officer will show you to where you are most
needed,” at the same time pointing to a member of his staff who, all
covered with dust and the smoke of battle, had just ridden up.
“Good bye, Captain,” exclaimed the brave Captain William Shearer, of the
Winchester Boomerangs in the Thirteenth Virginia, and a dear friend. “I
hope to see you soon again;” and as his command filed by the poor fellow
pressed my hand for the last time; for, alas, in a few minutes the
brigade was cut to pieces, and he was carried from the field with a
fatal wound in the head. And here, too, fell its heroic commander,
Elzey, with a fearful wound through the face; and the dashing McDonald,
of his staff, shot dead while performing prodigies of valor.
As these disasters came thick and fast, and the enemy seemed to defy his
utmost efforts, the right hand of Jackson was more frequently extended
towards heaven, as though invoking the aid of the great invisible Being
there, and his horse moved more rapidly as he impatiently spurred
through the ranks awaiting intelligence from the front.
“There goes Hood’s Texans!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, as that splendid
command, the last of our reserves, commenced to move. “If they fail, God
help us;” and we all felt the truth of the observation.
The little First Maryland was now left all alone, for having been
detached from Scott’s Virginia brigade after the battle of Port
Republic, and to which we had been attached temporarily; we were not
expected to take much part in the heavy fighting, but were reserved
principally for skirmish duty.
“Colonel Johnson will remain where he is, and arrest all stragglers from
the field,” was the order of General Jackson, as he put spurs to his
horse and rode towards the front.
“I will until after you get out of sight, Mr. Jackson, but no longer,”
the Colonel muttered.
“And neither would I, Johnson,” exclaimed a gentleman in citizen’s
clothes, who at that moment threw himself from a much jaded horse and
advanced to his side. “I came here for my first fight, and it has got to
be with the Maryland boys.”
Turning around what was my surprise to recognize in the person of our
visitor Mr. George Kyle, (afterwards Major Kyle,) who had ridden from
Richmond to be one of its defenders.
“Here, boys,” he continued, “I have some letters for you from home, just
arrived by blockade-runner, and as they may be the last you will ever
receive, I would advise you to lose no time in reading them;” and he
commenced distributing to the eager troops the large package of letters
in his possession. As he did so the musketry fire redoubled in
intensity, and from the yell which followed we knew the Texans had
grappled with the foe.
“Great God!” exclaimed Kyle, stopping midway in the distribution of the
letters, “is it possible that men can cheer in the face of such a fire
as that?”
“Attention, battalion,” was now the sharp command from our Colonel, and
moving rapidly by the right flank we were on our way—we knew not
whither. Our route lay through dense woods for some distance, and from
whence we suddenly came into a broad plain, and away to our left burst
upon the view the two armies desperately contending. As we then moved by
the left flank into line of battle the splendid brigade of Georgians
under Lawton came up on the run, and moving in front of us led the way
towards the scene of strife. Swiftly the two columns moved forward in
the face of a terrible fire of musketry and artillery. Finding the fire
too hot, Lawton soon ordered a halt, and his men lay down to shelter
themselves from the flying bullets. But “Forward!” was the command of
our Colonel, and onward through that storm of bullets moved the little
First Maryland, which, as they passed over the prostrate bodies of the
Georgians, were enthusiastically cheered. On, on, they moved through
that vale of fire and death with the same precision as on battalion
drill. Immediately in our front was a battery that had proved terribly
destructive to our troops from the commencement of the battle. Again and
again had it been charged, but without success. That battery Johnson was
determined to assail, but our chances of success were slim, indeed.
Regiments broken and shattered were now met coming to the rear, and many
of the men attached themselves to our command. One gallant fellow, the
color bearer of Wright’s Legion, carried back some distance by the rush
of his panic-stricken comrades, declared his flag should go no farther,
and planting himself upon our left, rallied many of his companions. The
First Maryland had thus been augmented to about four hundred men, and
with these Johnson intended to charge the battery and its infantry
supports.
Taking advantage of a rise in the ground, he halted the men under its
shelter, and ordered them to rest preparatory to making the desperate
assault. Scarcely had the command been given when Captain McHenry
Howard, of General Charles Winder’s staff, galloped up with orders to
remain where we were until that General could overtake us with the
Stonewall Brigade. “The General has observed your movements, sir, and
thinks the place too strong for you; we will, therefore, charge
together.” In a few moments Jackson’s favorite brigade was with us, and,
at the command of General Winder, we moved forward with irresistible
impulse, and scrambling over the enemy’s breastwork of knapsacks, we
swept everything before us.
The last charge had been made, and the last battery captured at Gaines’
Mills, and the right of McClellan’s army was seeking safety in flight.
Night was upon us, and completely exhausted, we threw ourselves upon the
ground in the midst of the dead, wounded and dying, and despite the
shrieks and cries and groans of anguish from hundreds around us, were
soon wrapped in sleep.
The field next morning presented a ghastly spectacle, and the thousands
of maimed and dismembered bodies attested the severity of the fight.
Litter-bearers were moving in all directions, gathering the wounded,
while burial parties were busily engaged with pick and spade digging the
trenches in which were to rest those beyond all worldly cares and
suffering. The camp-follower was also plying his avocation, and as he
moved from one to another of his victims an expression of satisfaction
or disappointment would escape him as he counted the yield of each. Some
of the men, however, were in search of boots and shoes, which they so
much needed, as thousands of Jackson’s command were barefooted, and had
been for weeks.
As I walked over the field I observed one of them, a North Carolinian,
with his foot upon the stomach of a dead man, tugging vigorously at a
boot, which after a little while he succeeded in getting off. I stopped
to see how he would get the other one, for the leg had been shattered to
pieces just above the knee by a cannon ball, and hung but by a few
shreds. A desperate effort separated the leg from the body, and the
fellow was in a quandary. Looking around he espied me, when approaching,
he extended the ghastly stump, and said, “Mister, will you please hold
onter this tarnel thing ontil I git the boot off?” The assistance he
asked for I declined to render, when shouldering his prize he started
off muttering, “If you won’t, some of the boys will, that’s all.”