commanding officer and a few of his best-mounted men, had been
distanced, for they were more heavily weighted, and ordinary troop
horses could not live at such a pace. Once we were safe among our own
people, their commander had the good sense to see that his services
were no longer a necessity, and accordingly drew rein and saved his
horses by following on at a slow trot. Once the General halted a moment
to speak to an officer he knew and inquire for information. As he did
so he turned and asked me to get him a switch; for he usually rode
carrying a light riding-whip, and furthermore he had broken one of the
rowels of his spurs. Dismounting, I cut one from a near-by way-side
bush, hastily trimmed it, and gave it him. “Thanks, Sandy,” said he,
and as we started again he struck his splendid black charger Rienzi
a slight blow across the shoulder with it, and he at once broke into
that long swinging gallop, almost a run, which he seemed to maintain
so easily and so endlessly--a most distressing gait for those who had
to follow far. These two words of thanks were almost the only ones he
addressed to me until we reached the army; but my eyes had sought his
face at every opportunity, and my heart beat high with hope from what I
saw there. As he galloped on his features gradually grew set, as though
carved in stone, and the same dull red glint I had seen in his piercing
black eyes when, on other occasions, the battle was going against us,
was there now. Occasionally Captain O’Keeffe and myself exchanged a few
words, and we waved our hats and shouted to the men on the road and in
the fields as we passed them, pointing to the General and seconding as
best we could his energetic shout: “Turn back, men! turn back! Face the
other way!” Now and then I would glance at the face of my companion,
Captain O’Keeffe, whose gray-blue eyes fairly danced with excitement at
the prospect of the coming fray; for if ever a man was a born soldier
and loved fighting for chivalry’s sake, it was that gallant young Irish
gentleman, Joe O’Keeffe.
Each moment that we advanced the road became more closely clogged with
stragglers and wounded men, and here the General suddenly paused to
speak to one of the wounded officers, from whom I judge he got his only
correct idea of the attack by the enemy at dawn, the crushing of our
left, and the steady outflanking that had forced our army back to where
it was at present, for I caught something of what the officer said, and
his ideas seemed to be clear and concise. This pause was a piece of
rare good-fortune for me, for my orderly happened to be by the side of
the road with my led horse, and in a trice he changed my saddle, and
I rejoined the General ere he was a hundred yards away, with all the
elation that a fresh mount after a weary one inspires in the heart of a
cavalryman.
Within a comparatively short distance we came suddenly upon a
field-hospital in a farm-house close to the road beyond Newtown, where
the medical director had established part of his corps. Just ahead of
us the road was filled with ambulances containing wounded men, who were
being carried into the house to be operated upon, while outside of the
door along the foot-path lay several dead men, who had been hastily
placed there on being taken from the stretchers.
In our immediate front the road and adjacent fields were filled with
sections of artillery, caissons, ammunition-trains, ambulances,
battery-wagons, squads of mounted men, led horses, wounded soldiers,
broken wagons, stragglers, and stretcher-bearers--in fact, all that
appertains to and is part of the rear of an army in action. One hasty
glance as we galloped forward and we had taken in the situation. About
half or three-quarters of a mile this side of Middletown, with its left
resting upon the turnpike, was a division of infantry in line of battle
at right angles to the road, with its standards flying, and evidently
held well in hand. Near the turnpike, and just to its left, one of
our batteries was having a savage artillery duel with a Confederate
battery, which was in position on a little hill to the left and rear
of Middletown as we faced it. To the left of this battery of ours
were the led horses of a small brigade of cavalry, which was holding
the ground to the left of the pike, and both the infantry and cavalry
dismounted skirmishers were in action with those of the enemy. Farther
to the left, and slightly to the rear, on a bit of rising ground, was
another of our batteries in action. Half a mile to the right, and
somewhat to the rear of the division of infantry which was in line of
battle, could be seen a body of infantry in column slowly retiring and
tending towards the pike; and just beyond these troops was another
body of infantry, also in column, and also moving in the same general
direction. Farther to the right, across a small valley, and more than a
mile away from these last-mentioned troops, was a still larger force of
infantry, on a side-hill, facing towards the enemy, in line of battle,
but not in action. I looked in vain for the cavalry divisions, but
concluded rightly that they were somewhere on the flanks of the enemy.
[Illustration: “SHERIDAN! SHERIDAN!”]
Skirting the road, and avoiding as best we might the impediments of
battle, the General, O’Keeffe, and myself spurred forward. Finally,
on the open road and just before we reached the troops in line, which
was Getty’s division of the Sixth Army Corps, I asked permission to
go directly down to the skirmish-line to see the actual condition of
things. “Do so,” replied the General, “and report as soon as possible.”
Just then we reached the line, and as I glanced back I saw the chief
draw rein in the midst of the division, where he was greeted by a storm
of cheers and wild cries of “Sheridan! Sheridan!” while standards
seemed to spring up out of the very earth to greet him.
* * * * *
I rode rapidly back to my chief, whom I found dismounted, surrounded by
several general officers, and in the midst of those of his staff who
had not gone with us to Washington. Dismounting, I saluted. Stepping
on one side from the group, he faced me, and said,
“Well?”
“You see where we are?” (A nod.) “Lowell says that our losses, killed,
wounded, and missing, are between three and five thousand, and more
than twenty guns, to say nothing of transportation. He thinks he can
hold on where he is for forty minutes longer, possibly sixty.”
I can see him before me now as I write, erect, looking intently in my
eyes, his left hand resting, clinched savagely, on the top of the hilt
of his sabre, his right nervously stroking his chin, his eyes with
that strange red gleam in them, and his attenuated features set as if
cast in bronze. He stood mute and absolutely still for more than ten
seconds; then, throwing up his head, he said:
“Go to the right and find the other two divisions of the Sixth Corps
and also General Emory’s command [the two divisions of the Nineteenth
Corps]. Bring them up, and order them to take position on the right of
Getty. Lose no time.” And as I turned to mount, he called out: “Stay!
I’ll go with you!” And springing on his horse, we set off together,
followed by the staff.
In a few moments we had reached the head of the nearest division we
were seeking. It was ordered on the line--I think by the General
himself; and as I started for the head of the other division, he
ordered me to ride directly over to General Emory’s command (two
divisions of the Nineteenth Corps), and order it up, to take position
in line of battle on the right of the Sixth Corps. I rode over to
General Emory’s line, which was about a mile away, and found his troops
in good condition, though somewhat shattered by the fortunes of the
day, facing towards the enemy, and half covered by small ledges of rock
that cropped out of the hill-side. On receiving the order, he called
my attention to the fact that in case the enemy advanced on the Sixth
Corps, he would be nearly on their flank, and he thought best that I
tell the commanding general of the fact, as it might induce him to
modify the order. Galloping back, I gave his suggestion to the General.
“_No, no!_” he replied. “Get him over _at once--at once_! Don’t lose a
moment!”
I fairly tore back, and the troops were promptly put in motion for
their new position, which they reached in due time, and were formed in
line of battle in accordance with General Sheridan’s orders.
After the whole line was thoroughly formed, I rode over to my chief
and urged him to ride down it, that all the men might see him, and
know without doubt that he had returned and assumed command. At first
he demurred, but I was most urgent, as I knew that in some instances
both men and officers who had not seen him doubted his arrival. His
appearance was greeted by tremendous cheers from one end of the line to
the other, many of the officers pressing forward to shake his hand. He
spoke to them all, cheerily and confidently, saying: “We are going back
to our camps, men, never fear. I’ll get a twist on these people yet.
We’ll raise them out of their boots before the day is over.”
At no time did I hear him utter that “terrible oath” so often alluded
to in both prose and poetry in connection with this day’s work.
As we turned to go back from the end of the line, he halted on the line
of the Nineteenth Corps and said to me: “Stay here and help fight this
corps. I will send orders to General Emory through you. Give orders in
my name, if necessary. Stay right on this line with it.”
“Very good, General,” was my reply; and the General and staff left me
there and galloped towards the pike.
It must have been nearly or quite half-past twelve o’clock by this
time, and as soon as the skirmishers were thrown forward the troops
were ordered to lie down: an order gladly obeyed, for they had been
on their feet since daylight, fighting and without food. They were to
have but a short period of rest, however, for in a few moments the low
rustling murmur, that presages the advance of a line of battle through
dense woods (the Nineteenth Corps was formed just at the outer edge of
a belt of heavy timber) began to make itself felt, and in a moment the
men were in line again. A pattering fire in front, and our skirmishers
came quickly back through the woods, and were absorbed in the line;
then there was a momentary lull, followed by a rustling, crunching
sound as the enemy’s line pressed forward, trampling the bushes
under-foot and crowding through bits of underbrush.
In a flash we caught a glimpse of a long, gray line stretching
away through the woods on either side of us, advancing with waving
standards, with here and there a mounted officer in rear of it. At the
same instant the dark-blue line at the edge of the woods seemed to
burst upon their view, for suddenly they halted, and with a piercing
yell poured in a heavy volley, that was almost instantly answered from
our side, and then volleys seemed fairly to leap from one end to the
other of our line, and a steady roar of musketry from both sides made
the woods echo again in every direction. Gradually, however, the sounds
became less heavy and intense, the volleys slowly died away, and we
began to recognize the fact that the enemy’s bullets were no longer
clipping the twigs above us, and that their fire had about ceased,
while a ringing cheer along our front proclaimed that for the first
time that day the Confederate army had been repulsed.
During the attack my whole thought, and I believe that of every officer
on the line, had been to prevent our troops from giving way. In one
or two places the line wavered slightly, but the universal shout of,
“Steady, men, _steady, steady_!” as the field-officers rode up and
down the line, seemed to be all that was needed to inspire the few
nervous ones with renewed courage and hold them well up to their work.
As for myself, I was more than satisfied, for only years of personal
experience in war enable a man to appreciate at its actual value
the tremendous gain when a routed army turns, faces, and checks a
triumphant enemy in the open field. It is a great thing to do it with
the aid of reinforcements; it is a glorious thing to do it without.
For a few moments the men stood leaning on their arms, and some of us
mounted officers rode slowly forward, anxiously peering through the
trees, but save for a dead man or two there was no sign of the enemy;
the Confederates had fallen back. Word was passed back to the line, and
the men were ordered to lie down, which they willingly did.
* * * * *
After a time the news ran down the line that we were to advance.
Springing to their feet at the word of command, the tired troops stood
to arms and seemed to resolutely shake off the depression that had
sat so heavily upon them, and began to pull themselves together for
the coming fray. Everywhere along the line of battle men might be
seen to stoop and retie their shoes; to pull their trousers at the
ankle tightly together and then draw up their heavy woollen stockings
over them; to rebuckle and tighten their waist-belts; to unbutton the
lids of their cartridge-boxes and pull them forward rather more to
the front; to rearrange their haversacks and canteens, and to shift
their rolls of blankets in order to give freer scope to the expansion
of their shoulders and an easier play to their arms; to set their
forage-caps tighter on their heads, pulling the visor well down over
their eyes; and then, almost as if by order, there rang from one end of
the line to the other the rattle of ramrods and snapping of gunlocks
as each man tested for himself the condition of his rifle, and made
sure that his weapon was in good order and to be depended upon in the
emergency that was so soon to arise. Then, grounding arms, they stood
at ease, half leaning on their rifles, saying little, but quietly
awaiting orders and grimly gazing straight towards the front. In
front of the battalions, with drawn swords and set lips, stood their
line-officers, slightly craning their heads forward and looking into
the woods, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the enemy they knew to be
somewhere there, but whom as yet they could not see.
I push through the line slightly forward of the nearest brigade,
and in a moment the sharp command, “Attention!” rings down the
line. “Shoulder arms! Forward! _March!_” And with martial tread and
floating flags the line of battle is away. “Guide left!” shout the
line-officers. “Guide left--_left_!” and that is the only order I
hear as we press forward through the thick trees and underbrush. I
lean well forward on my horse’s neck, striving to catch if possible a
glimpse of the Confederate line; but hark! Here comes the first shot.
“Steady! _Steady_, men!” Another, and now a few scattering bullets
come singing through the woods. The line does not halt or return the
fire, but presses steadily on to the oft-repeated command of “Forward!
_forward_!” that never ceases to ring from one end to the other of the
advancing line. Soon the woods become less dense, and through the trees
I see just beyond us an open field partly covered with small bushes,
and several hundred yards away, crowning a slight crest on its farther
side, a low line of fence-rails and loose stones, which, as we leave
the edge of the woods, and come into the open, suddenly vomits flame
and smoke along its entire length, and a crashing volley tells us
that we have found the enemy. For an instant our line staggers, but
the volley has been aimed too high and few men fall. “Steady--steady,
men!” shout the officers. “_Aim!_” and almost instinctively the whole
line throw forward their pieces. “_Fire!_” and the next instant a
savage volley answers that of the Confederates. I can see that it has
told, too, for in several places along the opposite crest men spring
to their feet as if to fall back, but their officers promptly rally
them. “Pour it into them, men!” shout our officers. “Let them have it.
It’s our turn now!” for brute instinct has triumphed and the savage is
uppermost with all of us. For a moment or two the men stand and fire at
will, as rapidly as it is possible to reload, and then the Confederate
fire seems to slowly slacken; so, with a universal shout of “Forward!
_forward_!” we press towards the enemy’s line. Before we are much more
than half-way across the field, however, they seem to have abandoned
our front, for I cannot see anything ahead of us, though I stand up in
my stirrups and look eagerly forward. But what--what is that? _Crash!
crash!_ and from a little bush-covered plateau on our right the enemy
sends a couple of rattling volleys on our exposed flank that do us
great harm, and I realize that _we are the outflanked_!
For an instant the line gives way, but every mounted officer in the
vicinity, among whom I recognize General Fessenden, seems to be
instantly on the spot trying to rally the troops and hold the line.
“_Steady! steady! Right wheel!_” is the shout, and the men, after the
first flush of surprise, behave splendidly, one young color-bearer
rushing to the right and waving his flag defiantly in the new direction
from which the enemy’s fire is now coming. I ask him to let me take
it, as I am mounted and it can be seen better, as there is some
undergrowth at this particular spot in the field. At first he demurs,
but seeing the point, yields. Holding on to my saddle, the color-bearer
accompanies me towards a slight hillock. The line catches sight of it,
and the left begins to swing slowly round, the men in our immediate
vicinity loading and firing as rapidly as they can in the direction
from which the enemy is now advancing. The Confederates are giving it
to us hotly, and we realize that we have lost the continuity of our
line on both flanks.
Suddenly peal on peal of musketry broke out on our right, and the copse
in front of us was fairly bullet-swept by repeated volleys. The next
moment a portion of one of McMillan’s brigades, which he had promptly
swung round and faced to the right, dashed forward, and together we
moved up to the position just held by the enemy, to find that he was
in headlong retreat. One hasty look, and I saw that we had pierced the
enemy’s line, and that his extreme left was cut off and scattered.
But I could not see any troops nor anything of his line over in the
direction of the pike, as there was a dense belt of woods that shut
out the view. Nevertheless, the steady roar of artillery and peals of
musketry told us that heavy fighting was going on in that part of the
field. General McMillan was already re-forming his men to move over and
take up the line and our former direction to the left, when General
Sheridan, riding his gray charger Breckenridge, and surrounded by
his staff, came out of the woods and dashed up. One glance and he had
the situation. “This is all right! this is all right!” was his sole
comment. Then turning to General McMillan, he directed him to continue
the movement and close up to the left and complete our line of battle
as it originally was.
He told me, however, to hold the troops until I saw that Custer had
driven the enemy’s cavalry from our flank. This we could easily see, as
the country was open and the ground lower than where we were. Having
given these instructions, the General, followed by his staff, galloped
rapidly to the left and rear through the woods, evidently making for
the pike, where, judging from the continued roar of field-guns and
musketry the Sixth Corps was having savage work.
As soon as we saw General Custer’s squadrons charge across the field
and engage the enemy’s cavalry, General McMillan ordered the advance,
and we pushed forward, driving the enemy ahead of us through the wood,
and came out to the left and rear of the Confederate line, enabling our
left to pour in a fearful fire on their exposed flank. The enemy was
gallantly holding his line behind some stone fences, but “flesh that
is born of woman” could not stand such work as this, and the cavalry,
having got well in on their right flank about this time, their entire
line gave way in retreat.
Our whole army now pressed rapidly forward, not stopping to re-form,
but driving them from each new line of defence; yet it was no walk-over
even then, for the Confederates fought splendidly--desperately even.
They tried to take advantage of every stone fence, house, or piece
of woods on which to rally their men and retard our advance. Their
batteries were served gallantly and handled brilliantly, and took up
position after position; but it was all in vain, for we outnumbered
them, both cavalry and infantry, and their men must have comprehended
the fact that our cavalry was turning both their flanks.
For a few moments the Confederates held their position on the hills,
but suddenly abandoned it in haste and sought safety in flight,
for some of General Custer’s cavalry had crossed the creek at the
ford below and were getting in their rear, and to remain was to be
captured. I soon caught up with some of our cavalry regiments, and we
started in full cry after the enemy. It was no use for them to attempt
anything but flight from this on, and they abandoned everything and
got away from our pursuing squadrons as best they might, hundreds of
them leaving the pike and scattering through the hills. The road was
literally crammed with abandoned wagons, ambulances, caissons, and
artillery.
At a small bridge, where a creek crosses the road some distance south
of the town, we were fired upon from the opposite side by what I
thought was the last organized force of General Early’s army. I now
believe it to have been his provost guard with a large body of our
prisoners captured by the enemy early in the day. The planks of this
bridge were torn up to prevent the enemy from coming back during the
night and carrying off any of the captured property. I then started
to return to headquarters, counting the captured cannon as I went. It
soon occurred to me that it was so dark I might mistake a caisson for
a gun, so I dismounted and placed my hand on each piece. I reached
headquarters about half-past eight or possibly nine o’clock. Camp-fires
were blazing everywhere. I went up to the chief, who was standing near
a bright fire surrounded by a group of officers, and saluted, reporting
my return.
“Where do you come from?”
“Beyond Strasburg.”
“What news have you?”
“The road is lined with transportation of almost every kind, and we
have captured forty-four pieces of artillery.”
“How do you _know_ that we have forty-four pieces?”
“I have placed my hand on each and every gun.”
Standing there in the firelight I saw my chief’s face light up with a
great wave of satisfaction.
XII
LEE’S SURRENDER AT APPOMATTOX
_Told by One Who was Present_
When, on the night of the 8th of April, 1865, the cavalry corps of the
Army of the Potomac reached the two or three little houses that made
up the settlement at Appomattox Depot--the station on the South-side
Railroad that connects Appomattox Court-house with the travelling
world--it must have been nearly or quite dark. At about nine o’clock
or half-past, while standing near the door of one of the houses, it
occurred to me that it might be well to try and get a clearer idea of
our immediate surroundings, as it was not impossible that we might have
hot work here or near here before the next day fairly dawned upon us.
My “striker” had just left me with instructions to have my horse fed,
groomed, and saddled before daylight. As he turned to go he paused and
put this question: “Do you think, Colonel, that we’ll get General Lee’s
army to-morrow?”
“I don’t know,” was my reply; “but we will have some savage fighting if
we don’t.”
As the sturdy young soldier said “Good-night, sir,” and walked away, I
knew that if the enlisted men of our army could forecast the coming of
the end so plainly, there was little hope of the escape of the Army of
Northern Virginia.