CASUALTIES

_Of the Officers as near as can be remembered_.

Killed—Lieutenant Colonel Ridgely Brown, Captain A. F. Schwartz,

Lieutenant Henry C. Blackiston.

Wounded—Lieutenant Colonel Dorsey, severely; Major R. C. Smith,

severely, disabled; Captain George W. Booth, Adjutant, severely; Captain

F. A. Bond, severely, disabled; Captain George W. Emack, several times

slightly; Captain Raisin, severely; Lieutenant J. A. V. Pue, severely;

Lieutenant Thomas Green, severely; Lieutenant W. H. Dorsey, several

times; Lieutenant Joseph K. Roberts, severely; Lieutenant C. Irving

Ditty, severely.

THE

BALTIMORE LIGHT ARTILLERY.

CHAPTER I.

It was towards the close of a pleasant day in October, 1861, that the

First Maryland Infantry dragged its weary length into camp near

Centreville, after a long and fruitless expedition to Pohick Church in

search of the enemy. Things seemed much changed, indeed, since their

departure, for in their absence a battery of artillery had invaded the

sacred confines of their camp, and a scowl was observed upon more than

one face, for we were jealous of our rights and dared maintain them.

Judge then our surprise when informed it was a battery manned by brother

Marylanders, and called the “Baltimore Light Artillery.” They had just

been organized at Richmond, and forwarded to the army at Centreville

during our absence. They were welcomed, most heartily welcomed, and it

was not long ere we discovered old friends and acquaintances among them.

Before many hours had elapsed we paid our respects to the officers of

the battery, and found them to be the true type of the Maryland and

Virginia gentlemen. But here they are:

[Illustration: Capt. W. HUNTER GRIFFIN.]

Captain J. B. Brockenborough was a Virginian, a graduate of the Military

Institute at Lexington, and a son of Judge Brockenborough, whose name is

so well known to the people of the South. He was a young man, not long

from college, but in that intellectual face you read more than the

ordinary man, and the honor and glory with which he subsequently

enveloped his fine command is a matter of history.

His First Lieutenant, W. Hunter Griffin, was also a Virginian, but had

been engaged in business in Baltimore for many years. Brave,

noble-hearted Griffin; how little I thought, as for the first time I

took his hand, we should pass together through so many stirring scenes

in the field and prison, for with the mention of his name appears before

me all the horrors of the retaliatory dens and dungeons of Morris Island

and Fort Pulaski. There we shared between us the wretched pittance given

to sustain a bare existence, and there we more than once divided our

last dollar.

Second Lieutenant, W. B. Bean, was a Marylander, and a fine officer and

brave soldier.

Third Lieutenant, George Wilhelm, was also a Marylander, and during the

little while he was with the battery proved himself an efficient

officer. On his resigning the dashing McNulty was appointed to fill the

vacancy.

The _personnel_ of the men was unsurpassed in the army, and was it a

wonder, then, that with such officers, and such men, the Baltimore Light

Artillery should soon become a household-word in the army of Northern

Virginia.

During the winter of 1861 and 1862 the battery remained quietly in camp

at Manassas, and when the army of General Joseph E. Johnston fell back

from that place in March, they were ordered to remain with General Ewell

upon the banks of the Rappahannock.

Here about the 1st of April the enemy for the first time heard the

bellowing of their loud-mouthed Blakeleys, which were destined to carry

death and destruction into their ranks upon more than one bloody field.

It was a lovely afternoon, and fresh in my memory, that the enemy were

observed advancing in force towards the river. Their approach had been

long expected, and preparations made to receive them. The Baltimore

Light Artillery was posted on the extreme right of General Elzey’s

brigade, and supported by the First Maryland Infantry. As the dense

masses of the enemy came within range, Brockenborough opened with such

accuracy of aim as to attract the attention of Elzey, who upon the spot

predicted for them a glorious future. For an hour or two the fight was

sharp and severe, and most of the enemy’s artillery fire concentrated

upon the Maryland battery; but they stood their ground and fought their

pieces like veterans of an hundred battles. Late in the evening the

enemy retired, and left us masters of the field.

Once or twice after, they advanced in small force towards the river, but

Brockenborough was ever ready to receive them, and a shell or two

sufficed to drive them back.

On the 19th of April, 1862, the division of General Ewell broke camp,

and began the wretched march to Gordonsville, and of which I have spoken

in the First Maryland. For three days the rain poured in torrents,

making the roads almost impassable, and for three days the officers and

men of the Baltimore battery toiled through the mud, into which the

wheels sank to the hubs, and at length reached Gordonsville.

After a halt here of three or four days, the division of General Ewell

marched to join Jackson at Swift Run Gap.

After the return of that General from McDowell, the whole array advanced

upon Kenly’s forces at Front Royal, and in the sharp fight which ensued

the battery took a prominent part.

Early on the 25th of May, Jackson’s army stood in battle array before

Winchester, and the engagement soon began. The Baltimore Light Artillery

was stationed on the right, and throughout the fight played with much

effect upon the enemy’s columns.

A few days after, at Bolivar Heights, they were engaged for some hours,

and finally drove the Federal infantry and artillery from their strong

position.

In Jackson’s memorable retreat down the Valley from the overwhelming

forces of Fremont and Shields, the battery was detailed to support the

cavalry under Ashby and Steuart, which was bringing up the rear of the

army. Here it was daily engaged with the enemy. At Fisher’s Hill a

section under Griffin was entirely surrounded and cut off owing to the

bad behavior of Steuart’s cavalry, which was supporting it, but the

gallant fellow drove his pieces through the ranks of the enemy, and

reached the main body in safety.

At the battle of Harrisonburg it supported Ashby in his fight with the

Pennsylvania Bucktails, and did good service.

On the 8th of June the division of Ewell was drawn up in line of battle

at Cross Keys to dispute the enemy’s advance, whilst Jackson crossed his

prisoners and wagon trains over the Shenandoah at Port Republic. The

ground for the battle had been selected by General Elzey, by order of

General Ewell, and a most judicious selection it was, as the result of

the fight proved, and for which General Elzey received the thanks of

Ewell in an official order, which the author regrets he is unable to

give the reader.

The Baltimore Light Artillery held the extreme left supported by the

First Maryland Infantry. Theirs was a most exposed position, and upon

which was concentrated the fire of several of the enemy’s batteries. All

day long the battle lasted, and all day long the little battery

continued to hurl its shot and shell into the ranks of the enemy. It was

a most unequal contest, but stubbornly they held their ground. Generals

Elzey and Steuart, who had remained by and watched the battery with

painful interest, were both borne wounded from the field. Upon the

behavior of that battery perhaps hung the fate of the day, for we were

but a handful holding at bay a mighty army. But calmly the officers and

men stood to their guns, and although the enemy essayed more than once

to drive them from the position, there they remained until night closed

upon the combatants, and Jackson’s army was saved from the destruction

that seemed so imminent.

As a reward for the gallantry displayed in this fight, General Dick

Taylor presented the battery with two of the splendid brass Napoleons,

which his brigade captured next day at Port Republic. “I want you to

have them,” he said, “for from what I saw of you yesterday, I know they

will be in good hands.”

After the battle of Port Republic, which closed Jackson’s great Valley

campaign, the army moved up the mountain, where, upon its summit, it

remained two or three days, when it returned and went into camp near

Weir’s Cave, about five miles from Port Republic. Here the Baltimore

Light Artillery was supplied with new harness and fresh horses, and was

in a splendid condition for the dreadful fighting about to commence

around Richmond, but of which we had not then the slightest conception.

On the 19th of June, 1862, Jackson put his troops in motion for

Richmond, and on the afternoon of the 26th the First Maryland Infantry,

which had the advance, encountered the enemy in force about ten miles

from Gaines’ Mills, and a sharp fight ensued, which lasted some time,

when Brockenborough was ordered to open fire, which he did with effect,

and the enemy retired.

At daylight on the morning of the 28th, Jackson resumed his march, but

owing to the incompetency of his guides it was late in the afternoon

before he neared the point of attack assigned him. But at length

everything indicated a rise of the curtain in the fearful drama about to

commence. Columns were marching and countermarching, staff officers

dashed hither and thither, while the crash of small arms, and the sullen

boom of artillery on the right told full well that the work of death had

begun.

About 4 o’clock Jackson threw out his skirmishers and moved forward in

line of battle, and in a few minutes the enemy were developed in heavy

force, and strongly posted, when the fighting became terrific. The

artillery was directed to take position in an open field on the left,

and were soon heavily engaged. The battle here was very unequal, for the

enemy had greatly the advantage in artillery and position, and soon

succeeded in disabling a number of Jackson’s pieces. In a short time the

Jeff Davis Mississippi battery was torn to pieces and the Baltimore

Light Artillery ordered to take its place, immediately under the eye of

Jackson himself. Gallantly the Marylanders responded to the order, and

dashing at a full run across the field, unlimbered and opened fire.

The author was standing close beside General Jackson when the battery

went forward, and he shall long remember the look of anxiety with which

he watched it, and well he might, for upon the success of that battery

much depended. For a while the air was filled with exploding, crashing

shells, and the horses and men fell rapidly before that withering fire,

which was directed with almost the precision of a rifle shot. Away went

a limber chest high in the air, scattering death and destruction around.

“We are not close enough,” said the brave Brockenborough. “Limber to the

front, forward, gallop!” rung out his sharp command, and in an instant

the battery was in position at point blank range. Fiercely those guns

were then worked despite the iron hail that ploughed up the ground

around them, and in a few minutes Brockenborough had the satisfaction of

seeing the enemy retire precipitately, leaving the ground covered with

dead and dying men and horses, and shattered carriages and dismounted

guns. It was French’s famous battery they had encountered, but French’s

no longer, save in name.

On the morning of the 29th, the battery accompanied Ewell’s division to

Dispatch Station, on the York River railroad, where a few shots were

exchanged with the enemy, when Ewell retraced his steps, and moved

towards Malvern Hill.

In the afternoon of the 1st of July the battle of Malvern Hill began,

and soon raged fiercely. Through the tardiness of General Huger the

enemy had been enabled to reach the heights of Malvern, where he posted

sixty guns, which swept every foot of ground around. In vain did the

heavy masses of infantry rush with desperate valor upon these guns, but

it was only to be driven back, leaving the ground covered with heaps of

dead and mangled men. In this unequal contest artillery was not

available, for not a position was to be had. Two or three times the

Baltimore Light Artillery tried it, but was as often compelled to

hastily withdraw, and when night ended the conflict, Malvern Hill was

not yet won.

Before morning McClellan withdrew to Harrison’s landing on the James,

where he was safe, and General Lee had the mortification of knowing that

the foe so completely within his toils had escaped him through the

incapacity of a General of division.

CHAPTER II.

The long spring campaign in the Valley and the operations around

Richmond had made sad havoc in the ranks of the Maryland Line, and it

became necessary for them to recruit and reorganize before again ready

for the field. For this purpose the First Maryland Infantry and

Baltimore Light Artillery were ordered to Charlottesville, where they

remained a month, when they were once more ordered to join Jackson, who

was about to make his great movement to the rear of Pope’s army at

Manassas. Alas, the two commands did not journey together far, for at

Gordonsville an order overtook Colonel Johnson requiring him to at once

disband the First Maryland, and the order was reluctantly obeyed.

The separation was affecting to the greatest degree, and the little

battery pursued its way with sad and lonely hearts. It was like severing

the ties that bind brother to brother, for in the series of battles in

which they had participated side by side, the conduct of each had

inspired the other with confidence and respect. “With the First Maryland

in support,” I heard Captain Brockenborough say, “I know I am always

safe.” And so it was, for one would never desert the other while life

lasted.

On the morning of the 19th of August the battery reached Orange Court

House, where, much to the joy of all, it was attached to Starke’s

Louisiana brigade. An affinity had long existed between the Maryland and

Louisiana troops, and they commanded each others’ fullest confidence. In

fact they seemed nearer akin, for in both there was that sprightliness,

dash and vim not so noticeable in troops from other States.

With three days’ rations in haversacks, Brockenborough, on the 21st,

moved towards the Rappahannock, where he found the enemy occupying the

north bank in force. A severe artillery fight immediately began, and was

maintained for some hours. The battery pitted against Brockenborough was

Company M, United States regulars, which, towards nightfall, he

succeeded in silencing and driving back with the loss of many men and an

exploded caisson.

On the morning of the 22d, the artillery was thrown across the river,

but soon after encountered the enemy in heavy force, and were compelled

to recross after a desperate struggle. In this affair the Baltimore

Light Artillery suffered a loss of four men killed—Irvin, Cox, Bradley

and Reynolds—and several severely wounded.

Brockenborough finding it impossible to cross at that point, moved up to

Hanson’s Ford, where a crossing was effected, and he then pursued his

way through Orleans, Salem and Thoroughfare Gap, and reached Manassas on

the 26th, having marched fifty miles in two days, with nothing for his

men or horses to eat save the green corn gathered along the road. Here

at Manassas, though, was found in the captured trains and sutlers’

stores all they could have desired, and for hours they revelled in the

good things their new commissary had so bountifully supplied, and over

Rhine wine and lobsters forgot for the time the privations of the past

few days.

From Manassas, Jackson moved on Centreville, but finding the enemy there

in force, he retraced his steps to Manassas, closely pursued, and formed

his line of battle, about sunset on the 28th, upon the ground occupied

by the enemy in the battle of July, 1861.

The engagement immediately commenced, and raged with great fury for some

time, but the enemy was repulsed in every assault, and driven back with

heavy loss. General Stephen D. Lee, who commanded the whole of Jackson’s

artillery, then put the several batteries in position along the crest of

a commanding hill, and there awaited the attack sure to be renewed next

day.

About two o’clock on the 29th heavy columns emerged from the woods in

Jackson’s front, and advanced boldly to the attack, but the storm of

grape and canister which tore through their ranks was more than flesh

and blood could withstand, and they were driven back with dreadful

slaughter. But again and again did those devoted columns reform and

return to the attack with undiminished ardor, but the same terrible fire

greeted them, and strewed the ground with dead and dying.

But nevertheless Jackson’s situation was a most critical one. With but a

handful of worn and wearied troops he was battling with ten times his

numbers, which must necessarily soon wear him out and exhaust his

ammunition; but as the hearts of his men were sinking within them, they

were cheered by the clouds of dust that arose in the distance and

heralded the approach of their great chieftain, Lee, with the veterans

of Longstreet’s corps. At night the battle ceased, and the wearied

troops threw themselves upon the ground to seek a little repose before

the work of death and destruction should be resumed on the morrow.

At the break of day on the morning of the 30th of August, the troops

were aroused from their slumbers and ordered to prepare for the great

and decisive battle at hand. But hour after hour passed by, and except

an occasional picket shot, all else was still. It was, though, but the

calm which precedes the storm, for suddenly dense masses of the enemy

emerged from the woods, and moved at the double-quick upon Jackson’s

lines. It was a grand sight to see those three lines rush forward in the

most beautiful order. For a minute a deathlike silence prevailed, when

the very earth was made to tremble by the roar of Stephen D. Lee’s

thirty-six pieces of artillery, fired at point blank range. The

slaughter was appalling, and whole ranks melted away in an instant, but

the brave survivors closed up their decimated columns, and despite that

awful fire pressed on until they encountered the infantry posted in the

railroad cut in front, where for a time the fight was waged hand to

hand. At length they began to break and to retreat, and the batteries,

which had been silent for some time owing to the proximity of the

struggling columns of infantry, again belched forth into the fleeing

mass their deadly discharges of grape, which was continued until the

fugitives reached the shelter of the woods from which they had emerged.

Of the several batteries under General Lee that day, not one was worked

more fiercely than the Baltimore Light Artillery, and none contributed

more to the defeat and destruction of the enemy.

Long before nightfall the victory was won, and the braggart Pope, with

the remnant of his army, was seeking safety in the defences around

Washington.

In the invasion of Maryland, which followed this signal victory, the

battery was placed in the advance, and crossed the river at White’s

Ford.

On the 6th of September the battery passed through Frederick city, and

encamped on the suburbs. Many were the congratulations the brave fellows

received from the citizens, and during the three days they remained,

their wants were abundantly supplied.

Leaving Frederick city, the battery passed through Boonsboro,

Middletown, and Williamsport, where they recrossed the Potomac, and on

the 12th entered Martinsburg. From thence it moved towards Harper’s

Ferry, when upon arriving at Loudoun Heights Brockenborough was assigned

a position from which, at early dawn of the 15th, he opened, along with

other batteries, a terrific fire upon the enemy’s entrenched position on

Bolivar Heights. The batteries were worked furiously for an hour, when

just as the Confederate infantry were put in motion to storm the works,

a white flag fluttered in the breeze, and Harper’s Ferry surrendered

with its twelve thousand troops, and artillery and supplies in

abundance.

But there was heavy work yet to be done, for General Lee with a portion

of his army was confronting the overwhelming masses of McClellan at

Sharpsburg, and no time was to be lost in reaching him. The surrender

had therefore scarcely been effected when the troops were dispatched to

his aid. By a forced night march Jackson’s artillery reached Sharpsburg

on the 16th, and was immediately assigned a position on a range of hills

rather northwest of the town.

The morning of the 17th of September found the two armies in position,

and ready to begin the work of destruction. For the Confederates the

prospects of success seemed gloomy enough, for General Lee had barely

forty thousand men with which to meet the mighty army of McClellan,

numbering over one hundred and twenty thousand troops. But the vast odds

were made almost proportionate by the superior genius of the Confederate

Generals. With Lee, Jackson and Longstreet in command nothing seemed

impossible to their troops, and therefore it was with no feelings of

fear for the result that they surveyed the long and glittering lines

before them.

Soon after sunrise slight artillery skirmishing commenced along the

lines, which increased in volume until the air seemed filled with

exploding shells. Upon the position held by the batteries of

Brockenborough, Carpenter, Poague, Moody, Rain and Caskie, was opened a

terrific fire, which was promptly returned, and the enemy’s batteries

several times compelled to change position. This continued for two

hours, when it became evident that the infantry was massing for a

charge. The position was of the most vital importance, for should the

enemy succeed in gaining possession of this point, and turning Lee’s

left flank, he would be irretrievably lost. His orders to General

Jackson were therefore to “hold the range of hills to the last.”

McClellan’s advance upon this point was gallantly met by Jackson’s

veteran infantry, and for some time the fighting was of the most

determined character; but at length the immense superiority of numbers

prevailed, and Jackson’s troops gradually fell back across the turnpike,

past the Dunkard Church and through the woods, and appeared upon the

plain beyond. Most beautifully did the heavy columns emerge from the

woods and move forward upon the batteries quietly awaiting their nearer

approach. “Do not pull a lanyard,” said Brockenborough, who was

temporarily in command of the whole, “until you get the command.” Nearer

and nearer those solid columns approached, and amid loud huzzas rushed

forward at the double-quick. It was a moment of dreadful suspense. On,

on, they came. “Will Brockenborough never give the command?” Yes; he now

has them at the muzzles of his guns, and the next instant the command

“Fire!” was heard above the exultant cheers of the advancing columns,

and twenty-four pieces of artillery, double shotted with canister,

belched forth their deadly contents into the very faces of the

assailants.

The scene that was presented as the smoke lifted beggars description.

The ground was literally covered, nay piled, with the slain and maimed

of the enemy, and the survivors were in full retreat. They were soon

reformed, however, and again moved boldly to the attack, but only to be

again mercilessly slaughtered and driven back. A third time they

essayed, but with the same result, when, a disordered mass of fugitives,

the survivors sought the shelter of the woods from which they had but a

few minutes before emerged, confident of success.

How anxiously the great chieftain, Lee—who was close by—must have

watched the dreadful struggle which was to decide the fate of his army,

and perhaps of the cause for which he was battling; and how great must

have been the relief as he saw the enemy in retreat and Jackson’s

shattered columns once more reformed.

Night put an end to the dreadful conflict, and Lee still held his

ground, despite the herculean efforts of his adversary to drive him from

it, but the day’s struggle had cost him thousands of his bravest and

best.

The brave Brockenborough that day won his Major’s star, and, with his

battery, received special mention in General Lee’s official report.

The morning of the 18th broke clear and beautiful, and General Lee was

in readiness to renew the fight, which it was not doubted would begin at

an early hour. But McClellan’s beaten and shattered army required time

and rest and reinforcements before again prepared for aggressive

operations; and finding this to be the case, Lee proceeded to bury his

dead, and that night, unmolested, recrossed the river at a point near

Shepherdstown.

CHAPTER III.

Soon after the battle of Sharpsburg, the Baltimore Light Artillery, now

under command of Captain W. H. Griffin, was ordered to join the cavalry

and infantry of the Maryland Line, then encamped near New Market, in the

Valley of Virginia. Here they passed the fall and winter months quietly

in camp, and in early spring were again prepared, with recruited ranks

and renewed equipments, to enter the field.

On the 13th of June the infantry and artillery of the Maryland Line,

with one company of its cavalry, all under command of Lieutenant-Colonel

James R. Herbert, moved towards Winchester, near which place they were

to unite with the division of General Early, which was moving across

from Front Royal. Near Kearnstown a body of Milroy’s cavalry was

encountered, but a shot from the battery scattered them in all

directions. A short time after, Early came up and proceeded to form line

of battle. The enemy soon made his appearance in force, and opened a

severe fire upon Griffin from his batteries, which was vigorously

responded to, and in a little while the enemy were driven beyond

Kearnstown. Early, as soon as he had formed his line of battle, moved

forward, and by a spirited charge of Gordon’s brigade, drove him into

his strong works to the left of Winchester.

The next afternoon Hays’ Louisiana brigade was moved around to the

enemy’s right with orders to charge a strong line of works whilst the

artillery opened upon him in front. Griffin was posted on a commanding

hill a little to the left of the pike, and threw his first shell into

the very centre of the Star fort. Finding he had the exact range, he

commenced a furious fire, which threw the enemy for a moment into the

greatest confusion, and greatly assisted Hays in his movement upon their

right. The fire was soon spiritedly returned by a Federal Maryland

battery, and continued until night, when Milroy evacuated his

fortifications and attempted to escape with his army, but in this he was

unsuccessful, although he himself succeeded in reaching Harper’s Ferry

with a few of his troops.

The precision and effect with which the guns of the Baltimore Light

Artillery were served upon this occasion elicited the highest praise

from General Gordon, to whose brigade it was temporarily attached, and

as a mark of the high esteem in which he held the battery, he procured

them permission from General Ewell next morning to select from among the

captured guns the best pieces, to take the place of their own, which

were greatly inferior.

The day after the battle of Winchester, the corps of General Ewell took

up its line of march towards the Potomac. The Baltimore Light Artillery

was directed by some subordinate officers to report to General Nelson of

the _reserve_ artillery. The order occasioned the greatest surprise and

indignation throughout the command, for always before they had led the

advance and covered the retreat. Such an indignity, as they considered

it, could not be tamely submitted to, and a protest was immediately

drawn up and forwarded to General Ewell, who at once ordered the battery

to join Albert G. Jenkins’ brigade of cavalry, which was the van of the

army in the invasion of Pennsylvania.

The battery crossed the Potomac on the 18th of June, and that day joined

Jenkins, when the whole command moved rapidly forward in the greatest

good humor. Many were the jokes they practiced, and many the quaint

sayings, peculiar only to the soldier. “Take them mice out of your

mouth,” one would bawl out as an officer with well waxed moustache rode

by; “take ’em out, no use to say they ain’t thar, for I see their tails

stickin out.” And as another came along, but a short time in the

service, and wearing a “boiled shirt,” and white collar, his ears were

sure to be assailed with “say mister how long did you have to soldier

‘afore one of them things growd’ round your neck?” And the staff

officer, with handsome cavalry boots, would be requested by a dozen

voices to “come out of them thar boots, for it’s too soon to go into

winter quarters.”

_En parenthèse_, soldiers are queer beings, and will have their joke,

even in the face of almost certain death. At the battle of Malvern Hill,

whilst the First Maryland regiment was awaiting its turn to “go in,” and

the men were closely hugging the earth to avoid the terrible fire of

grape and canister which swept over and around them, I heard an officer

of the regiment remark to another at his side, whose face was pressed

close to the ground, “say, Captain, you’ll get a scrape down your _back_

directly, and you know it’s something we don’t allow here,” and the

officer addressed coolly turned over on his back, remarking, “well, if

it will please you better, I’ll take it in front.”

The command of Jenkins pursued its march rapidly through Maryland, and

struck the Pennsylvania line near Greencastle. Thence their way lay up

the Cumberland Valley to Shippensburg, where a halt was made for a short

time to allow the tired troops to partake of the delicious apple-butter,

ham, bread, &c., furnished them in abundance by the startled

inhabitants. Whilst thus enjoying themselves to their hearts’ content,

the cry of “Yanks” was raised, and in an instant the scene changed.

Cavalrymen sprang to their horses, and artillerymen to their guns, but

the wary enemy could not be induced to come within range of Griffin’s

Parrott’s, but retired towards Carlisle, followed leisurely by Jenkins.

Upon arriving within sight of that town, the Yankee flag was found

defiantly flying from the public buildings, when Jenkins, supposing the

enemy to be there in force, prepared to attack. Placing two pieces of

artillery in a position to rake the main street, and disposing of his

other troops in the most available manner, he demanded the surrender of

the town. It was not long before a deputation of the “solid” citizens

made their appearance, and surrendered the place, which General Jenkins

at once took possession of.

After remaining at Carlisle one day, during which time they were

bountifully supplied with provisions and forage by the citizens, the

command moved in the direction of Harrisburg. At Mechanicstown a small

body of cavalry were encountered, but a shot from Griffin caused them to

heat a hasty retreat. Upon reaching the Susquehanna, the Confederate

commander found the opposite side of the river strongly fortified, but

he at once opened fire from his batteries, which was promptly responded

to. This continued until late in the afternoon, when the enemy’s

infantry advanced in force, and a severe skirmish ensued, which lasted

until after night. General Rhodes (I have forgotten to mention the fact

that Jenkins and Rhodes united their forces at Carlisle) having

accomplished his purpose, that night withdrew in the direction of

Gettysburg.

Upon arriving at Gettysburg the battery was ordered to report to Major

Latimer, who assigned it a position a short distance to the left of the

Cashtown pike. In the terrible battle that ensued, the Baltimore Light

Artillery played its part, and when the retreat commenced it was kept in

the rear to assist in covering the passage of the army and wagon trains

through the mountain passes.

At a point near Mount Zion the enemy had so stationed his guns as to

completely command the road through the gap over which a column of

infantry must pass. There was but little time to spare, for the enemy

were pressing them hard. Captain Griffin was ordered to place his guns

in position, and if possible silence the battery. It seemed a desperate

undertaking, but there was no alternative. Quickly the brave fellows ran

their guns to within point blank range, and opened a deadly fire. It was

promptly returned, and a heavy artillery duel continued for some time,

when the enemy’s battery was driven from its position, and the infantry

and wagon train passed in safety. I have heard it asserted by old

soldiers that this was one of the most desperate artillery fights they

ever witnessed. And the Marylanders had every reason to be proud of

their victory, for it was their old antagonist, battery M, of the

regular artillery, that they had again measured strength with.

At Hagerstown the battery participated in a severe cavalry fight, in

which the Confederates were entirely successful.

After the army of General Lee recrossed the Potomac, the battery was

ordered to Fredericksburg, where it remained for a few days, and then

rejoined the main army at Culpepper Court House, and was assigned to the

battalion commanded by Major Beckham.

For two weeks everything remained quiet, and well it was, for human

endurance had been taxed to the utmost limit in the severe campaign of

the summer, and required rest and repose.

On the 10th of September Meade became restive, and General Lee moved

forward to give him battle if he desired it. Beckham was ordered to

advance and take position with his artillery near Muddy Creek. In a

short time the enemy appeared in force, and a sharp artillery fight

ensued. The enemy then threw forward his infantry, and compelled Beckham

and his supports to fall back to the vicinity of Culpepper Court House.

The artillery was here ordered to take a position and “hold it.” The

fighting soon became fierce, and the Baltimore Light Artillery was

exposed to the severest part of it, but they gallantly held their ground

for some time, despite the fire of six pieces that were playing upon

their three. But this could not last long, for all support had been

withdrawn, and the enemy’s dismounted men were advancing in heavy force.

It seemed scarcely possible to save the battery, but the brave fellows

had been in such scrapes before, and they determined to hold on to their

pieces as long as there was a hope. Retiring through the town, they had

nearly accomplished their purpose of escaping, when a body of the enemy

charged up a cross street and captured the rear gun, with Lieutenant

John McNulty and nine men attached to it. The remaining guns were safely

taken off the field.

The next morning the enemy made their appearance in considerable force,

and the battery was enabled to repay them for the rough treatment

received the day preceding, for as a body of cavalry were engaged in

drill, entirely ignorant of the close proximity of the Baltimore

battery, it opened upon them with deadly effect at very close range.

After the affair at Mine Run, which soon followed that at Culpepper

Court House, the battery was detached from the main army, and

temporarily assigned to duty with General Young’s brigade of cavalry. On

the 9th of October that General crossed the Rapidan, and advanced by way

of Madison Court House. His progress was slow, as the march was by

circuitous and concealed side roads in order to avoid the observations

of the enemy. On the 10th Young met the advance of the enemy at James

City, without an intimation of his approach, and their bands were

regaling the citizens with patriotic airs, when a shot from Sergeant

Harry Marston’s gun, of the Baltimore Light Artillery, plunged into

their midst, and abruptly terminated the musical entertainment for that

evening at least. In a short time a battery was brought up, and a severe

artillery fight ensued. Soon another made its appearance and opened an

enfilading fire upon Griffin, but notwithstanding, he stubbornly held

his position. Whilst this was going on a large force of the enemy’s

skirmishers attacked the Confederate flank, and threw the cavalry into

some confusion by their unexpected onset from this quarter. Griffin at

the instant wheeled his pieces, and opened with grape and canister upon

this new enemy. This checked them until the supports came up, when the

enemy were compelled to retreat precipitately.

On the 12th a sharp engagement took place near Brandy Station, where the

enemy were driven across the Rappahannock, and pursued to the vicinity

of Cub Run.

After this affair the army retraced its steps to Culpepper Court House,

when the Baltimore Light Artillery was ordered to proceed to Hanover

Junction, and report to Colonel Bradley T. Johnson, who had been

directed to assemble the Maryland Line at that point, and keep open

General Lee’s communication with Richmond.

The battery spent the winter and part of the spring here most

delightfully, and by the 1st of May was ready for the field with

recruited ranks, for Lieutenant John McNulty and many of the men

captured in the battles of the preceding year had returned from Yankee

prisons, and were once more ready for the fray.

CHAPTER IV.

On the 10th of May, 1864, whilst encamped at Wickham’s Park, the battery

was ordered by General J. E. B. Stuart, to move up along the Rivanna,

and join the forces there awaiting to intercept Sheridan, who was

advancing towards Richmond. Reluctantly Colonel Johnson suffered it to

go, for during the winter and spring he had reorganized and equipped it

with much care; but the exigency of the occasion compelled him to

acquiesce, General Stuart assuring him he would “borrow” it for but a

few days, and “return it in good condition.”

On the 11th the battery took position at Yellow Tavern, and noon after

the enemy made his appearance in force. A heavy encounter ensued, when

the battery was retired about half a mile. For a time there was a lull

in the fighting; but upon the arrival of General Stuart it was again

ordered forward supported by the cavalry, and took position to the left

of the Brook turnpike, directly in Sheridan’s front. The battle was then

renewed with great fury. Sheridan brought three batteries to bear on

Griffin at a range of not over eight hundred yards, and the rain of shot

and shrapnel became terrific, but the brave fellows never flinched, and

served their guns with great effect. Hour after hour this savage fight

was waged, but no man faltered at his post, though the groans of the

wounded and dying, and the shrieks of maimed and disemboweled horses,

were enough to appall the stoutest heart. But General Stuart was there,

watching with an anxious eye that little command, upon which so much

depended, and they fought on, undismayed, despite the frightful scenes

around them. At length the enemy massed a heavy body of cavalry,

determined, at any sacrifice, to capture the guns that were making such

dreadful havoc in their ranks. A charge was made upon him, when Griffin

resorted to grape and canister. At every discharge whole companies

melted away, and the enemy fell back in confusion. But again they

advanced, and the Confederate cavalry giving away at the instant, the

battery was left at the mercy of the enemy, who dashed upon it; but

there the brave men continued to stay, determined to remain at their

post to the last, for all knew the vital importance of the position; and

as the enemy pressed on they were met with that never ceasing hail of

canister, until they reached the guns and rode over the men, and sabred

and captured them at their pieces. Stuart had witnessed it all whilst

rallying his broken cavalry, when seizing the colors of the First

Virginia, he rode forward, exclaiming, “Charge, Virginians, and save

those brave Marylanders!” Alas, it was his last command on the field of

battle, for at the instant he received a pistol shot, and was conveyed

mortally wounded from the field, when his men precipitately retreated.

Nevertheless, in the confusion and excitement of the moment, Lieutenant

McNulty, with some of the gallant fellows, actually drove two pieces off

in triumph, despite the efforts of the enemy to prevent them.

In this desperate battle at Yellow Tavern, the battery suffered the loss

of many men and horses, and two guns, and its brave commander was a

prisoner in the enemy’s hands.

Many were the acts of individual heroism displayed whilst the battle

lasted, one of which I will narrate:

During the hottest of the fight private John Hayden was struck by a

piece of shell, and dreadfully mangled, and would have bled to death in

a few minutes had not the Surgeon of the battery, Dr. Wortham, carried

him on his back into the woods and staunched the hemorrhage. In a short

time the enemy had possession of the field, but carefully concealing

himself and his charge until they had passed on, he that night carried

Hayden to a place of safety, where he eventually recovered.

With the two guns saved from the wreck of the battery, Lieutenant

McNulty crossed the Chickahominy, closely pursued, and took position on

the right of the road, commanding the bridge, where, by a vigorous fire,

he checked the enemy’s advance and covered the retreat. McNulty then

pushed on to Old Church and joined the main body, which had been there

reassembled.

On the 13th he was ordered to Hanover Junction, where he joined the army

of General Lee, with which he remained until after the battle of Cold

Harbor, when he was ordered to Early’s command in the Valley of

Virginia.

After a march of six days, the battery reached Waynesboro’, where four

days after it joined Early, _en route_ for the Lower Valley. Here the

battery (now under the command of Lieutenant W. B. Bean, who had been

for some time absent) was attached to General Bradley T. Johnson’s

brigade of cavalry, which had the advance.

On the morning of the 4th of July, Johnson approached Martinsburg, when

he was charged by about six hundred of the enemy’s cavalry, which for a

moment created some confusion in his ranks; but a few well directed

discharges of spherical-case from Bean caused them to beat a precipitate

retreat.

The command then pushed on and entered Martinsburg, when they came

suddenly upon a battalion of women, dressed in their holiday attire,

drawn up on the sidewalks, as though bent on preventing Johnson from

taking possession of the town, or at least their wagon train, ladened

with ice cream, confectionery, &c.; for the fair and unfair dames,

damsels and sweethearts of the troopers were about to celebrate their

great national holiday by a picnic, when surprised by the naughty rebel

Johnson, upon whom they at once opened such a fusillade of invectives in

bad and not very choice English as to compel him and his command to

retire in disgust, leaving them masters of the field.

From Martinsburg Johnson moved to Shepherdstown, and crossed the Potomac

into Maryland, and took position on Catoctin Mountain, where he

encountered a force of the enemy with artillery, but Bean soon drove

them off, when they retired to Frederick city, closely pursued by

Johnson’s cavalry. Here, being reinforced, they made a stand within the

confines of the city, and opened fire from their battery, protected by

the houses. The fire was not returned for some time, as Johnson was loth

to open his guns upon defenceless women and children, but finally

forbearance ceasing to be a virtue, he opened his battery, and a sharp

artillery fight continued until night, when Johnson retired to the

mountain to await Early’s arrival.

Early having at length come up, Johnson with his cavalry, and a section

of the artillery under command of Lieutenant J. McNulty, proceeded to

destroy the railroad bridges at Cockeysville, and this accomplished, he

made a rapid move around Baltimore, and struck the Washington branch of

the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad at Beltsville, where a large body of the

enemy’s cavalry was met, which, after a few shots from the battery and a

charge from the cavalry, broke and fled towards Washington in the utmost

confusion.

The battery, with Johnson’s cavalry, covered Early’s retreat from

Washington, though it was but seldom brought into requisition until the

army reached Poolsville, where the enemy made a vigorous attack, but

were kept in check by Johnson’s cavalry and artillery until the whole

army had crossed in safety.

On the 29th of July General Johnson was ordered by General Early to

accompany McCausland into Pennsylvania and exact a stipulated sum of

money from the citizens of Chambersburg, or in case of their not

complying with that demand to burn the town. The Baltimore Light

Artillery was attached to the brigade, and the whole crossed at McCoy’s

Ferry and proceeded on their way. Before day on the morning of the 30th

the advance approached Chambersburg, and after feeling the place with a

few shells, and finding no enemy, the town was entered and burned.

Retracing his steps to Virginia by way of Cumberland, McCausland arrived

at that place late in the afternoon of the next day, and found his

situation a critical one. Kelly with a large force was in his front,

strongly posted behind breastworks, and Averill was rapidly coming up in

rear, and to avoid the former he was compelled to move to the left and

take a different road from the one he had intended; but as there was not

a man in his command who knew the country, this was not to be easily

accomplished. After some delay, Col. Harry Gilmor settled the question

by seizing a Union man who was familiar with the different roads and

fords, and with a cocked revolver at his head compelled him to pilot the

way. In the night, four miles from Cumberland, McCausland’s advance

encountered the enemy, who were, after a brisk skirmish, driven back,

when McCausland determined to await the morning to ascertain his

position.

At the dawn of day the enemy was discovered in line behind the crest of

a range of hills between the canal and river, when McNulty was ordered

to post his guns, and open the fight, whilst the cavalry dismounted and

crossed the canal on a bridge hastily constructed by Captain Welsh of

the First Maryland Cavalry, when the enemy retired. But a more

formidable obstacle then presented itself in the shape of an iron-clad

battery mounted on an engine upon the railroad, whilst the cars to which

it was attached were loop-holed for musketry, and the banks of the

railroad, which formed an excellent breastwork, was lined with infantry.

A very strong block house that commanded every approach to the ford, was

also found strongly garrisoned.

Colonel Harry Gilmor was at once ordered to carry the ford, which he

attempted in most gallant style, but was unable to reach the opposite

bank owing to the dreadful enfilading fire opened upon him.

Lieutenant McNulty was then directed to take position with his pieces,

and open on the iron-clad. Quickly moving his guns to an open field, and

but two hundred yards from the enemy, he unlimbered at this much exposed

point, and called upon his best gunner, Geo. McElwee, to bring his piece

to bear upon the formidable looking mass of iron before him. The brave

fellow despite the shower of bullets to which he was exposed, coolly

sighted his piece and fired, and when the smoke cleared away McNulty had

the satisfaction of seeing the huge monster enveloped in steam, for the

shot directed by the unerring aim of McElwee had pierced the boiler, and

it lay a helpless wreck upon the track. His next shot was as effective,

and entered one of the portholes, dismounting the guns and scattering

death and destruction around, when the enemy along the bank broke and

fled.

But there was yet the block house to dispose of before the command could

resume its retreat, and minutes were becoming precious. An hour was

consumed in discussing the matter before anything definite was

determined upon, when General Johnson suggested that an attempt be made

to get a piece of the artillery across the river. The suggestion was

instantly adopted, and under cover of the bank, though subjected to a

severe fire, the piece was started over in a full run, and unlimbered in

the river, and taken to its bank by hand, when, at the instant, a demand

for the surrender of the block house was complied with, and McCausland

was safe.

At Moorefield, soon after, McCausland was surprised in camp by Averill,

when thirteen men of the Baltimore Light Artillery were sabred and

captured at their guns in endeavoring to load them, and two pieces were

lost.

After this affair the remnant of the battery was ordered to the vicinity

of New Market, in the Valley of Virginia, to be reorganized and

equipped. Here the number of the battery was considerably increased by

the transfer of Marylanders who had served three years in Fort Sumter,

and also by men from Major Brethod’s old battery. Horses and guns were

furnished from the reserve artillery, and in a short time Lieutenant

McNulty (who had succeeded to the command) found himself in a condition

to take the field.

Sheridan was about this time rapidly advancing towards Staunton, and

Early, with a small force, had fallen back to Brown’s Gap, in the Blue

Ridge. McNulty was at once ordered to join him at Port Republic, which

he was enabled to do, by making a detour, on the 27th of September. From

Port Republic Early moved towards Waynesboro’, where the head of his

column met that of Sheridan, and after a desperate fight drove him back

up the Valley, Early pursuing.

The scenes which these brave men were compelled to witness as they

pressed on after the brutal Sheridan and his band of incendiaries were

appalling, indeed. Hundreds of poor, helpless women and children were

encountered on the road, fleeing to a place of refuge, but knew not

where to find it, for other homes as well as their own had been plied

with the incendiaries’ torch. Pitiously they plead for protection and a

morsel of food from the rough soldiers, but, alas, it was not within

their power to afford them either. Night after night the heavens were

illumined by the light of burning farmhouses, barns, mills, &c., and day

after day was made dark by the dense smoke that filled the heavens.

Surely, Grant and his minion Sheridan will be long remembered by the

people of the Valley of Virginia, and their names associated by them and

their posterity with all that is bad, brutal and vindictive.

Slight skirmishing ensued between the pursued and pursuers until the

former reached Fisher’s Hill, where they met their infantry, when Lomax,

in command of the cavalry, retired to the vicinity of Woodstock. At

daylight next morning, the 8th of October, Lomax and Rosser moved to

attack the enemy who had advanced to Maurytown. Rosser was ordered to

attack on the left, and Lomax took the right, forming his troops on both

sides of the Valley pike. The Baltimore Light Artillery, under

Lieutenant McNulty, was stationed on an eminence north of the town. The

fight soon began with great fury, Lomax and Rosser attacking

simultaneously, and the enemy were driven back some distance. Heavy

reinforcements coming to the support of the enemy, he reformed his

broken columns, and the fight was waged with redoubled fury. Towards

noon Rosser, on the left, was overwhelmed, and soon after the heavy

columns massed in front of Lomax, attacked furiously, and drove that

General back in the utmost confusion.

During this time the gallant McNulty and his brave command were hurling

death and destruction into the ranks of the enemy, but to no avail. With

the retreat of the cavalry under Lomax, McNulty limbered up and sullenly

fell back, unlimbering at every available point, and opening his fire

upon the pursuing foe, thus enabling the cavalry to escape. In this

manner the village of Woodstock was reached. Still through its streets

he continued to pour into the faces of the advancing enemy destructive

discharges of grape and canister. But the gallant little battery is

doomed, for the enemy press upon them in overwhelming numbers, and still

they disdain to abandon their pieces. Beyond the town they make one more

effort to stay the dense masses now almost enveloping them, but even as

the gunners are ramming home the last double charge of canister, they

are captured and cut down in the act.

Twenty-three men and the four guns fell into the hands of the enemy.

Lieutenant McNulty who had had his horse killed under him, with the

balance of his men fought their way through, and escaped.

For his gallantry upon this occasion, McNulty was placed in command of a

battalion of artillery, and the command of the Baltimore Light Artillery

devolved upon Lieutenant John W. Goodman, Junior Second Lieutenant.

Soon after the disastrous fight at Maurytown, Goodman was ordered to

Fishersville, where the little left of Early’s artillery were preparing

their winter quarters. Whilst here every effort was made to procure

guns, horses, &c, for the battery, to replace those lost in their last

fight, but without success, for the Confederate Government had none to

spare. But the brave fellows were ready for any duty that might be

assigned them, and when Sheridan, in March, threatened Lynchburg, they

gladly obeyed the summons to repair to that place and assist in its

defence in any capacity. But their services were not required, and they

were in a few days after ordered to Petersburg, to help man the

fortifications there.

When the great crash came, and the little army under General Lee was

forced to retreat before Grant’s overwhelming masses, along with the

rest was to be found the remnant of the Baltimore Light Artillery—one

day fighting as infantry, and the next as cavalry, or assisting some

battery in trouble. Noble fellows, like their comrades of the Maryland

Line, they were true to the cause they had espoused to the last, and,

like the Infantry and Cavalry, were determined to fight on whilst a ray

of hope remained. Alas! that last ray disappeared with Lee’s surrender

at Appomattox Court House, and when told they were disarmed, and no more

to be led against the enemy, these veterans, who had unhesitatingly

faced death in all its dreadful shapes on so many bloody fields, wept

like children. Surely Maryland should be proud of her “Young Line” in

the Confederate States Army, as she was of her “Old” in the days of the

Revolution.

END OF THE “MARYLAND LINE.”

ATKINS’ BRIGADE

AT

SECOND MANASSAS.

The campaign before Richmond had ended, and McClellan’s shattered and

beaten army was reorganizing upon the banks of the James. Our loss had

also been severe, for the enemy’s artillery had played with fearful

effect upon our dense masses at Malvern Hill; and we, too, had much to

do before again prepared for the field. But the untiring and indomitable

Jackson was soon once more at the head of his legions, and marching

rapidly in search of Pope, whose advance, under Banks, was reported in

the vicinity of Cedar Mountain.

The First Maryland Regiment of Infantry, under the command of Colonel

Bradley T. Johnson, (and to which I belonged,) having suffered severely

in the many desperate battles of the summer, had been ordered to

Gordonsville to recruit, directly after the battles around Richmond, and

it was whilst there the thunder of Jackson’s cannon announced that he

had once more encountered the “Commissary of the Valley,” and we did not

for a moment doubt the result.

It was on the evening of the 17th of August, if I mistake not, that a

long line of prisoners arrived from the battle-field, who were turned

over to Colonel Johnson, to be forwarded at once to Richmond. My company

was the fortunate one detailed for the service, and taking a train about

10 o’clock that night, we reached our destination shortly after daylight

next morning.

After having marched my charge to Libby, and seen them properly cared

for, I strolled up the street in hopes of meeting an acquaintance or

two; but failing in this, and feeling an unpleasant gnawing at my

stomach, I dropped in at Zetelle’s for breakfast. Whilst waiting for my

beefsteak and coffee, and indulging in a glass of Marco Bruner, I was

awakened from a reverie by a heavy footfall upon the stairway, and to my

inexpressible delight the familiar form of Captain Atkins appeared as

the door opened.

“And how the divil are you, Captain; glad to see yez. Arrah! its a mane

thrick the’ve been afther playing us, begorrah!” he exclaimed, as he

took a seat at the table. “Did yez see the morning’s papers? If yez

havn’t, it will be worth your while to get them. Don’t you think the

hathens have disbanded your regiment and my battalion; bad luck to

them.”

I was astounded at the intelligence, and could not credit it for a

moment; but when the papers were produced, there was the order, sure

enough, over the signature of George W. Randolph, Secretary of War.

“Well, what’s to be done, Atkins? I am just from the front, and feel

convinced the army is on its way into Maryland; and, under the

circumstances, don’t like to leave the field. Come, as my senior,

suggest something.”

“And bless your soul, I will. And now for a little private council of

war betwane ourselves,” he continued, in his usual rollicking way.

“Suppose we form a brigade of our own? I’m sure there’s Grinnell, of my

battalion; Shellman, of your regiment, and whom I have just met; you and

meself; and a better brigade I wouldn’t wish to command, be me soul I

wouldn’t; and, if it plases yourself, we will call it Atkins’ Brigade.”

“Its a bargain; and now, Mr. Brigadier, issue your first order.”

“And here it is: The officers under my command, to be known as ‘Atkins’

Brigade,’ will muster their forces, preparatory to laving for the scane

of action, one week from to-day. How will that do?”

“Very well—all but the forces.”

“Arrah! there you go again. Why in the divil can’t we be officers and

privates too? I am sure there’s many brigades in the sarvice that can’t

muster more an a liftenant.”

“Very well; here’s my hand on it;” and we emptied the bottle of Rheinish

to the success of the new brigade.

But a word of my companions: Atkins was an Irish gentleman of fortune,

but passionately fond of military adventure. He first saw service in

Garibaldi’s Italian war, where he made the acquaintance of the lamented

Major Bob Wheat, and a strong attachment was the result. At the breaking

out of the rebellion, Atkins came to this country, and hunting up his

old companion-in-arms, whom he found encamped at Manassas, in command of

a Louisiana battalion, he entered the ranks as a private, and at the

First Manassas won his captain’s stripes. He continued to serve in the

command with distinction up to the death of Wheat, and the disbanding of

the battalion as just stated.

Grinnell (a son of Henry Grinnell, one of the merchant princes of New

York) also came from Europe at the breaking out of the war, sacrificing

a lucrative business, and joined the command of Wheat also, as a first

lieutenant. In the fight with Kenly’s forces at Front Royal, he had the

misfortune to lose a portion of his right hand by a piece of shell, and

had just been declared convalescent, and was ready for the field, but

found himself without a command.

Shellman had practiced law in Frederick, Maryland, and served with great

credit as first lieutenant of my company from its organization.

Never having kept a diary, reader, you will excuse little discrepancies

in dates, but I think it was about the 22d of August that Atkins

marshalled his forces and marched them aboard a James River canal boat,

_en route_ for the anticipated scene of action—I mean to say _we_ were,

and not the canal boat. We were compelled to take this route owing to

the Central Road being taxed to its utmost capacity in the

transportation of troops to reinforce Lee’s army, and therefore our only

alternative was to go by the way of Scottsville, Charlottesville, to

Gordonsville, etc.

Arriving at the former place, we hired a rickety wagon, to which was

attached a wretched specimen of the mule kind, and after a long and

tedious ride made our _entre_ into the ancient village of Charlotte, not

with the “pomp, pride and circumstance of glorious war,” but amid the

curses of an irate driver, and such expressions as “may the divil take

the ass and his master for hathans,” from our illustrious brigadier.

A day of rest at the excellent hotel _de Farish_ so refreshed us that

when we resumed our trip we felt as though our brigade had assumed the

proportions of a division, and every one of us an officer. Rapidan

Station, the terminus of our trip by rail from Charlottesville, was

reached late in the afternoon, and distributing our traps equally, we

set out on foot to overtake Longstreet’s corps, the rear of General

Lee’s army. Jackson had the advance, and was making a forced march to

get in the rear of Pope’s army, at Manassas. Our march lay along the

Orange and Alexandria Railroad, through Culpepper, where we diverged to

the left and took the road to Salem and the Plains. Shortly after

leaving Culpepper we overtook the stragglers and broken down men of the

army—to be counted by thousands. The majority of the poor

fellows—barefooted and with bleeding feet—were struggling manfully to

reach their respective commands, whilst others were quietly building

shelters and laying in a supply of green corn, to await, as they coolly

informed us, “the return of the army.”

Marching rapidly, on the 28th day of the month we came upon the rear of

Longstreet’s corps in _bivouac_ a mile or two from Thoroughfare Gap.

Heavy cannonading was going on in front, and upon inquiring the reason

for it, we were informed the enemy in strong force were disputing the

pass, but that heavy columns of infantry had been sent over the mountain

to flank them, and it was not doubted for a moment but the movement

would succeed.

A council of war was now called by our commandant, and the brigade

unanimously resolved to go into camp for the night, as Atkins declared,

“Divil the bit could he fight on an impty stomach, at all, at all.”

Selecting a little strip of woods somewhat retired from the main body of

the army, the brigade went supperless to rest.

The sun was at least an hour high when we awoke from our slumber, to

find the corps of Longstreet gone, and already several miles on its way

to relieve Jackson, who, rumor said, had been closely pressed for two

days by overwhelming numbers, and with difficulty held his own. We arose

feeling gloomy enough. The roar of artillery had ceased, as had the

rattle of musketry of the previous evening, and everything was still as

death. Poor, hapless little brigade, retiring supperless and arising

breakfastless. Shellman was the first to complain, though having the

least to sustain. “Who ever heard of a command without a commissary?” he

muttered.

“Arrah, Mr. Shellman, you see I am economizing, for what in the divil is

the use of having a commissary when there’s nothing to commissary, and

the Confideracy is poor enough, God knows, except in shinplasters. Bad

luck to ye.”

The argument was unanswerable, and Shellman subsided, “As we have no

commissary to plase the gintleman—and I’m blasted if I am much plased

meself—I would suggest we went skrimmigen.”

The command responded aye unanimously, and, rolling up our blankets, we

prepared to move. Resuming our march, we soon came to a neat,

substantial looking farm house, where it was determined an effort should

be made to procure breakfast at any price in Confederate currency. We

crossed the fence and approached the house. Our commander was to be the

spokesman, but just as he was about to apply his knuckles to the stout

oaken door, the clatter of horses feet was heard, and to our no little

surprise General Lee and staff galloped up.

“The brigade will retrate and rally on me, being it’s in the presence of

superior numbers, for by Saint Patrick, for all the Confideracy, I

wouldn’t have Gineral Lee see me besage a lone counthry house without

his orthers,” was the command of our brigadier.

The “retrate” was conducted in good “orther,” and the forces assembled

upon the commandant some two hundred yards distant. Here, after a short

consultation, we concluded to make another essay upon a house close at

hand. As we neared the premises the prospect of success seemed

discouraging enough, for some twenty cavalry horses were tied to the

pailings, and experience had taught us their riders were close by. Judge

then of my surprise, when upon inquiring for the proprietress of the

house I was confronted by an old and dear acquaintance, Mrs. Hamilton,

of Loudon county, and now, at this writing, residing at Chantilly, on

the Little River turnpike. ’Tis needless to say the party were made

welcome, and in a few minutes we were seated around a bountifully

supplied table, laughing and chatting merrily, the vexation of our

former disappointment forgotten. A quiet smoke followed, when we

prepared to part with this most estimable family with unfeigned regret.

The dear old lady of the house, with tears in her eyes, bid us farewell,

and her last words were, “Should anything happen to yourself or

comrades, don’t forget my house.” I little thought but forty-eight hours

would elapse ere I was once more her guest, but under vastly different

circumstances. But of that anon.

As we passed through Thoroughfare Gap there were evidences on all sides

of a stubborn fight, and I could not help being struck with the vital

importance of possessing the place. It seemed almost a Thermopylæ, and

it astonished me that it was not defended by a larger force of the

enemy. Had General Lee been delayed here forty-eight hours we would have

lost Jackson and his command, and the remainder of the army would have

been compelled to recross the Rappahannock. How imminent the peril! But

the masterly generalship of the peerless Lee averted it, and the

flanking columns across the mountains soon removed every obstacle. But

no time was to be lost, for already we had been delayed too long; and

the incessant peals of artillery in our front plainly told us Jackson

was sorely pressed, and needed our assistance.

How little the General whose “headquarters were in the saddle,” knew his

advantage; for he had it within his power to have annihilated the

Confederate army. But if we are to believe his own report, and the

account of his “Man Friday,” (“Personal recollection,” in that vilest of

periodicals—_Harper_,) the illustrious Pope had too many generals in the

field, and too many masters in Washington. The “lamented” would

telegraph “do this;” Halleck would say “do that;” Fitz John Porter would

do nothing; McClellan sent the commissary wagons to Washington, and it

was but natural the hungry troops should seek their rations there—all of

which, combined “unsaddled” poor Pope, and placed McClellan in his

stead.

More than once that night, as General Lee paced his room, he was heard

to mutter: “The Gap must be forced at any sacrifice. On the success of

this movement depends everything. General Jackson must be hard pressed;

but he _will_ hold out, or I do not know my man. Twenty-four hours

behind my promise to him; forty-eight hours would result in his

destruction.”

Friday, the 29th day of August, 1862, was a hot, sultry day, and the

corps of Longstreet, already wearied and broken down by excessive

marching, dragged itself along with difficulty. Had it not been for the

stimulus afforded by the roar of Jackson’s artillery the ten long miles

from Thoroughfare Gap would have consumed much more time, and there

would have been many more stragglers. But steadily those veterans

pressed on, and before noon the head of the column reached Haymarket,

but a short distance from the scene of conflict. We here received the

most encouraging accounts from Jackson. He was not only holding his

ground, but had driven the enemy some distance before him. But

nevertheless an expression of relief must have passed over that usually

stern and placid face when he observed the clouds of dust that heralded

the approach of the iron Longstreet.

Rapidly the different brigades and divisions were thrown into position,

and by three o’clock the line of battle was complete. Longstreet held

the right, joining Jackson near the Groveton turnpike, and about a mile

from that village, where was stationed Hood with his Texans, Virginians

and Mississippians. Being personally acquainted with the General, I

suggested to Atkins that he proffer the services of the “brigade” to

him, which was readily acceded to. That gallant, glorious, but

subsequently unfortunate officer, received us most cordially, but

regretted that for the present he could assign us to no other duty than

that of firing a musket. Enfields were soon procured, and we took our

place in the ranks of the Fourth Texas, a regiment that at the battle of

Gaine’s Mills had won imperishable laurels.

In the woods to the left Jackson was hotly engaged. The musketry fire

was terrific, and it seemed neither to advance nor recede. A curtain of

smoke that hung over the tree-tops told us where the fighting was going

on, but not a soul could be seen. For more than two hours this desperate

struggle continued, when a soldier or two in blue emerged from the woods

into the open plain, rushing frantically in the direction of the Federal

reserves. Another and another followed, and presently a heavily column,

torn and shattered, broke forth from the woods in wild confusion. A

moment after, in close pursuit, a column in grey appeared, moving at the

double-quick with the most beautiful precision, though subjected to the

fire of a battery of artillery, which opened on them as soon as they

appeared. But the glorious column never wavered. On, on, they pressed.

The enemy was seeking protection behind the battery. It mattered not,

they would take battery and infantry too; all the better. Oh! how it

made my heart ache as I saw the great gaps rent by grape and canister as

they pressed on in this desperate charge. But “forward” was the command,

and “forward” they went. The battery is neared; no hesitation there; and

in an instant it is enveloped by our grey jackets. A yell, a wild

Confederate yell, announced the success of the charge, and in a moment

we saw them retire with hundreds of prisoners and the captured battery.

“Glorious, glorious,” exclaimed the heroic Hood, at whose side I was

standing, and who was most anxiously watching the charge. “Who can it

be?”

An aid-de-camp presently appeared riding at full speed in the direction

of General Lee’s headquarters. Hood hailed him with, “Who made that

splendid charge?”

“Bradley Johnson, in command of the Third Virginia brigade,” was the

response.

How my heart thrilled with pride and pleasure as I heard the

announcement; for it was my late Colonel, fighting like the members of

Atkins’ brigade, without a commission.

But what means this demonstration in our immediate front? Cheer after

cheer, huzza upon huzza, and presently a long line of skirmishers appear

over the intervening hill. An attack beyond question. They are met

unhesitatingly by our skirmishers, and a fierce fight ensues. But the

dense, dark column that now comes in view compels our advance to fall

back. But Hood, with his Texans, Virginians and Mississippians, are in

waiting. Rapidly they approach, and musket balls are whistling in every

direction.

“Let them come a little closer,” I heard him remark to a staff officer,

“they shall have a reception.”

Just then a voice behind us was heard to command, “Charge, General,

charge!”

Judge my feelings as I turned my head and saw our beloved Lee sitting

calmly upon his iron-grey, with but a single aid, and exposed to this

severe fire.

But we had little time for reflection, for the clarion voice of Hood was

heard the next instant to “fix bayonets,” and then came the command

“forward, double-quick,” and the long line of glittering steel rushed

madly down the hill.

The collision was awful, and the enemy was unable to resist its force,

though he stood to his work manfully. Gallant men fell by hundreds on

both sides. The Federal troops gave way; and the field was covered with

thousands of fugitives. The column in grey pressed on until it neared

the village of Groveton. What is this dark mass seen in the twilight

thundering down upon us, making the very earth tremble? The column

halts. On come the gallant troopers. The sight is grand beyond

description. Nearer and nearer they approach. They are almost upon us!

“Fire,” is the command, and the heavens are lit up by the flash that

leaps along the line; and when the smoke lifts, hundreds of riderless

steeds are seen flying frantically across the plain, whilst the ground

in front of us is covered with dead and wounded men and horses.

In the excitement of the fight I had lost sight of my companions, and it

was not until I heard a voice with the Celtic twang exclaiming, “Catch a

harse, catch a harse,” that I was aware of the presence of Atkins.

“Catch a harse, catch a harse,” I heard again, as a dozen riderless

steeds dashed up the turnpike, “for I’m blasted if my command shall be

infantry any longer.” Turning my head I saw him making frantic efforts

to secure one of the frightened horses and his efforts were successful.

I was not so fortunate. Seizing a bridle, I was leading my capture in

triumph across the road, when giving a sudden plunge, he wrenched the

rein from my hand and was off like the wind.

Leaving my companion in ecstacies over his prize, I started after

something to eat. But where was I to get it? The wagons were far in the

rear, and being tired, I could not think of hunting them up. A happy

thought suggested itself. The Federal soldiers generally carried a day

or two’s rations. I will secure what some dead man has left. The idea

may shock the sensibilities of the reader with a well-filled stomach,

but a tired and hungry soldier is not much troubled with such wares.

Crossing the Groveton road I threaded my way among the dead and wounded

with a melancholy interest. A few minutes before the air had resounded

with the shouts of infuriated men, the roar of artillery, and the rattle

of small arms; but now all was still, save an occasional picket shot,

and the groans and cries of those who had fallen wounded in the bloody

strife.

More than one dead man’s haversack did I examine that night; but alas,

some one as hungry as myself had anticipated me. I had given the search

up in despair, and was returning to my companion, when I stumbled over

the body of a Federal soldier that I did not see, owing to the darkness.

A suppressed groan escaped the poor wretch, and shocked at my

carelessness, I knelt at his side and asked if I could do anything for

him.

“Water, water, for God’s sake water!” he plead. Placing my canteen to

his lips he drained it to the last drop.

“Now turn me on my back that I may look once more at the beautiful sky,

and watch the bright stars. Stranger, I see from your dress you are an

enemy, but in my dying moments I like you none the less. Your turn may

come next; and perhaps you, too, will ask the same favor I have asked of

you. God grant that you may receive it.”

His mind here wandered for some minutes, when recovering, he continued:

“Oh it is hard to die thus, away from home and friends; but it is a

comfort to have the presence of even one with whom I have just been

engaged in deadly strife, and for aught I know inflicted this death

wound. My poor wife, my precious child. Stranger, perhaps you, too, have

a wife and child far away whom you love dearly? Away up in Pennsylvania

I had a happy home, with a fond and loving wife. We were blessed with

one dear little babe, a boy. In an evil hour I went to the war to fight

for my country’s honor; how much better had I remained at home, for

there are plenty without me who have nothing to leave behind.”

Again his mind wandered, and I heard him murmur: “How beautiful the

heavens are to-night, Emma, and how bright the stars. Come, Eddie, get

upon papa’s knee.” A pause, a convulsive shudder, and with “My wife, my

child,” upon his lips, the poor soldier’s spirit took its flight from

earth.

And still, reader, this was but one incident of the thousands that could

have been gathered upon that dreadful field.

Disengaging his well-filled haversack, I made my way back to where I had

left my companion. To my surprise he had heard nothing of either

Shellman or Grinnell; and we began to fear they had fallen in the fight.

However, they may be at the rendezvous appointed, and thither we

directed our steps.

We found them there, and unhurt, but engaged in a violent dispute as to

which had killed the most Yankees in the fight.

“Why, Grinnell,” said Shellman, “didn’t you see that officer fall when I

fired?”

“I saw an officer fall,” replied Grinnell, “but I tell you your gun

didn’t go off. And I will tell you what’s more, you didn’t fire a shot

during the fight, but you did a devil of a sight of loading.”

“An’ be me soul, Liftinent Shellman, an’ I belave Grinnell is right,”

put in Atkins, “for divil the wonst did I see the thing go off, an’ I’ll

prove it by the crather itself, I will.”

The Enfield was produced, and to the “Liftinent’s” chagrin the barrel

was found to contain at least half a dozen cartridges.

“An’ it’s a pretty command I have, to be sure. What would Gineral Lee

think if I told him one of my ‘brigade’ put his cartridges in his gun

upside down? An’ thin the sarious consequinces that might ensue. Faith,

an’ it might cost the Confideracy its independence.”

“I don’t think you have much the advantage of me, Mr. Atkins, for you

did nothing but run after loose horses,” retorted Shellman.

“Did you ever hear the like o’ that? To spake in that way to his

commander. An’ thin he called me _Misther Atkins_, too; bad luck to

yez.”

I put an end to the controversy by announcing the contents of the dead

soldier’s haversack.

“Fourteen crackers, a pound of salt horse, a well-filled bag of coffee,

and several little articles that I will examine to-morrow.”

A fire was soon kindled, and we proceeded to boil the coffee. As I

untied the string around the little bag, I could not but think of the

hand, now cold and stiff in death, that had so carefully tied it that

morning; and during the repast, at every mouthful, “My wife, my child,”

was ringing in my ears.

Considerably refreshed, I wrapped my blanket around me and lay down to

rest, and was soon in a sound sleep, from which I was awakened in the

morning by Atkins soliloquizing:

“An’ it was a sin an’ a shame to trate the poor dumb baste so, an’ so it

was. Laving out that bullet hole in the nose, an’ the one in the left

fore leg, an’ the one in the hind quarther, an’ the divil knows how many

more, for I havn’t been on the other side of him, he’s as beautiful a

crather as I ever saw. Be me soul he’s the very picture of an Irish

hunter, he is.”

Rising from my blanket I approached the disconsolate Atkins, who was

engaged in taking a survey of his capture of the previous evening, and

upon inquiring the reason for his lamentations, he pointed to a dreadful

wound in the horse’s left fore leg, but which had escaped our notice in

the darkness of the evening, and said:

“Look what those hathens of Hood’s have done to this poor dumb baste,

the very picture of a staple-chaser. An’ there, too, an’ there, an’

there,” pointing to as many wounds, “be me soul, if the rider got as

many he’s as dead as Paddy’s pig.”

“What disposition are you going to make of him?” I ventured to inquire.

“Take him along wid us, to be sure. Can’t he carry our traps. I’m

astonished that you should ax such a question. If you had been wid Whate

and meself in Italy—”

Not caring to be bored for an hour with this his favorite subject, I

interrupted him by inquiring the name he intended to give his steed?

Scratching his head for a moment, he replied, “Pegassus; an’ what do you

think of that for a name?”

“A devil of a Pegassus,” remarked Shellman, who had joined us.

“An’ who axed you for your say, misther six-shooter, who can’t

appraciate an Irishman’s joke?”

“And why Pegassus?” inquired Shellman.

“Why don’t you see the crather has been _winged_, but divil the bit do I

belave there’s much _fly_ in him.”

After partaking of a cup of coffee and a cracker or two, the remains of

the poor dead soldier’s rations, I shouldered my Enfield, and bidding my

companions remain until I returned, started off in search of Colonel

(afterwards General) Bradley T. Johnson, whose command we had determined

to join.

Moving rapidly across the field, subjected to a sharp fire from the

enemy’s sharpshooters, I reached the cover of a friendly woods in

safety. Meeting a horseman, I inquired the Colonel’s whereabouts, and

was informed it was but a short distance ahead.

“I am going that way myself,” said he, “and will with pleasure pilot

you. I perceive from your uniform that you are a Captain, and presume

you belong to his command.”

I informed him of the circumstances that had placed me with the army,

and told him I thought it most likely “Atkins’ Brigade” could render

more efficient service as officers in some of the depleted regiments,

than as privates as we were.

“I assure you,” said the stranger, “it would gratify me much should you

accept a command in my brigade, for I have suffered fearfully in

officers during the past three days.”

“What brigade do you command,” I inquired.

“The Second Louisiana. My name is Starke, sir, General Starke, and I am

immediately on the left of Johnson. Should he have no place to assign

you to, call upon me.”

After pointing out Johnson’s command, the General put spurs to his horse

and disappeared. Poor fellow, I never saw him after, for he rendered up

his precious life in battling for his beloved South upon the bloody

field of Sharpsburg.

I found Colonel Johnson with his brigade drawn up in line of battle

close by the edge of a woods, and in momentary expectation of an attack.

“How do you do, Captain?” he greeted me, “the very man I wished most to

see. Here I am in command of a brigade without officers. The

Forty-eighth Virginia has but two Lieutenants left. Come, let me

introduce you to Dabney. He is at present in command of the regiment,

and I know will not hesitate to surrender it to you at my suggestion.”

I found Lieutenant Dabney a most agreeable young gentleman, and he

cheerfully tendered me the command of his regiment.

I then informed the Colonel of the obligation I was under to return to

my companions, but he would not listen to it for a moment.

Johnson then explained to me the situation. Immediately in our front,

and distant some two hundred yards, was a railroad cut. This was

considered the key to the position, and was to be fought for to the last

extremity. “You will therefore take fifty of your men and place them

under cover of that thicket to the right, in close proximity to the

excavation, and keep me advised of all you see and hear.”

I detailed my fifty men, and after taking a careful survey of the ground

I was to traverse, made a run for it across the field amidst a shower of

bullets from the enemy’s sharpshooters, but which fortunately did no

execution. Shortly after reaching the designated point I had the

misfortune to lose the services of Lieutenant Dabney by the accidental

explosion of his pistol, and I had, therefore, but one officer left.

We had been there perhaps an hour when I became convinced from hearing

the command “forward, guide centre,” repeatedly given in the woods some

four hundred yards distant in our immediate front, that the enemy was

massing for an attack. Finding my men reluctant to take the risk of

recrossing the field with a message to the Colonel, I was compelled to

go myself. Placing them under the command of a Sergeant, I made the

attempt and reached the brigade in safety. I reported to Johnson what I

had heard; and at his suggestion we walked to the brow of the hill

before us, and to our astonishment beheld three lines of battle emerging

from the woods, and moving rapidly upon the railroad excavation.

It was out of the question for me to return to my fifty men, and I

should not have gone if I could, for the greater portion of my command

was with the brigade. Rushing back therefore with him, the command

“forward, double-quick,” was instantly given, and then commenced a wild

race as to which should reach the much coveted point first. As we

emerged from the woods, and became exposed to the view of the enemy’s

artillery, he opened a terrible fire, which was returned with interest

upon his advancing columns by thirty pieces of our artillery on a

plateau to the right of us.

We reached the opposite banks of the cut simultaneously, and then began

one of the most desperate and bloody conflicts of the war. Muzzle to

muzzle, each delivered their fire into the very bosoms of their foe.

Dead and wounded men fell by hundreds, and many on both sides rolled

down the embankment and intermingled at the bottom. The importance of

the place was known to each, and each was determined to possess it. The

appearance of Colonel Johnson upon that field I shall never forget. But

few men had ever before had so important a trust imposed in them, and

there he intended to win or die. Never have I seen such sublime courage

displayed upon the field of battle. In his shirt sleeves, his eye

flashing, his lips compressed, he was everywhere encouraging his men.

Three different times he ran along his line, the target for many a

bullet, and how he escaped unscathed that awful fire, God only knows.

But the enemy are too strong for us, and our right begins to swing back,

contesting every inch of ground. And the enemy’s left cross the cut. At

this moment a man fell at my side. Picking up his musket, I leveled it

and fired, and when in the act of lowering the piece, I felt a sharp

pain in the fore part of my left arm, and glancing at it, discovered I

was hit. Even as I did so, I received a tremendous blow in my left side,

and was knocked off my feet, and fell heavily to the ground. Our troops

giving way left me midway between the contending forces, and never did a

poor devil more heartily wish himself away from a warm place than I did

from this, for the bullets were knocking up the dust all about me; but I

knew to move even a limb would draw the fire of the enemy, and I

contented myself with laying still, and watching the progress of the

fight. The combatants surged backwards and forwards as each gained or

lost some temporary advantage; but the tide of battle was evidently fast

going against Johnson. The enemy were too strong for him; still he

fought on. Everything seemed lost, and Jackson’s corps will surely be

cut in two. Why do not the reserves come up?

Hark! What means that wild yell, and that cracking and crashing in the

woods behind us? Hurrah! it is Starke with his Louisianians. It was a

grand sight as those grim veterans emerged from the woods on the run.

Nothing on earth could withstand the impetuosity of their charge, and

the foemen were swept back across the cut like chaff, and the position

was ours.

Fearing I should be struck by some of the many flying bullets, I

determined to get under the friendly cover of the position won, and

after many efforts succeeded in getting on my hands and knees, and

dragging myself to the bank, quietly rolled down. It was well I did so,

for the enemy were not going to give it up without another effort. Fresh

troops advanced, and the conflict was renewed with redoubled fury.

Steadily the column in blue moved forward in the face of the terrible

fire of the Confederates, and reached the very edge of the embankment.

Our ammunition was giving out. No matter, stones lay around in

abundance, and were hurled with desperate energy.

“Bad luck to yez, there goes my last cartridge,” I heard an Irishman

exclaim at my side. Remembering I had two packages in my jacket pocket

that I had found in the haversack of the previous evening, I requested

him to take them out. As he did so he uttered an exultant shout, and

with a “Come on yez d—d Yankees, its Louisianians yer fitin now,”

resumed his firing.

For at least fifteen minutes this desperate hand to hand conflict

continued, when the enemy began to give way and scatter in every

direction to avoid our fire. But the artillery to the right, which for

some time had been silent owing to the proximity of the contending

forces, now opened upon the dense mass with grape and canister at point

blank range, and the slaughter was horrible until the fugitives reached

the cover of the woods.

On the right, in Longstreet’s front, the battle still raged, but long

before nightfall it ceased; the second battle of Manassas was won, and

our army in close pursuit.

The excitement of the fight over, I began to think seriously of my own

condition. I had lost a great deal of blood, and was almost in a state

of collapse. The dying words of the poor soldier who expired in my arms

the evening before, more than once occurred to me: “Your turn may come

next.” And had it come? And then: “Oh, ’tis hard to die thus, away from

home and friends; but it is a comfort to have the presence of even one

with whom I have just been engaged in deadly strife.” But no ministering

hand was there. I was alone with those still in death, and others like

myself writhing in mortal agony. No one near me to take a last message

to my home, or to tell how I died. But I am burning up with thirst.

“Water, water, for God’s sake water!” rang in my ears, and I envied the

poor wretch the few drops I had given him the previous evening.

Gradually I grew more faint; I felt as though I was being whirled round

and round with fearful rapidity. Round and round, faster and faster, and

I lost all consciousness.

I must have remained in this swoon some time, and when I recovered I

found Dr. Richard Johnson and the noble Irishman, Atkins, at my side.

“Ah, this is a divil of a pretty mess,” was the first words I heard.

“This is what you get for disobeying orthers. Had ye remained wid your

legitimate command this wouldn’t have happened. Here’s Grinnell,

Shellman and meself as sound as a new quarther. Oh, the hathens, to

trate one of ‘Atkins Brigade’ so mane a thrick.”

All night I lay on the field, attended by Dr. Johnson and my good

ex-commander, and next morning, was placed in an ambulance and conveyed

to Mrs. Hamilton’s, where I was received as a brother and a son by the

family. For weeks I languished upon a bed of sickness, nursed with the

care and tenderness of an infant by every member of the family, when I

was declared convalescent, and made my way to Richmond.

I here met my late companions, who had returned from the campaign in

Maryland in safety, and we more than once talked over incidents that

attended “Atkins’ Brigade at the Second Manassas.”

THE END.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Contents added by transcriber.

2. P. 312, changed “_En parenthase_” to “_En parenthèse_”.

3. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.

4. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as

printed.

5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.