MARCHING ORDERS--REMOVAL OF THE SICK--A YOUNG PATIENT--VISIT FROM HIS
MOTHER--MARCH TOWARD MANASSAS--COLLECTING SUPPLIES--FATIGUES OF THE
MARCH--PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE--A CAMP PRAYER MEETING--DIVISIONS
DETAILED--MY PLACE ON THE FIELD--"RATHER CLOSE QUARTERS"--A BATTLE
SUNDAY--SKULKING FROM THE FIELD.
Marching orders received to-day--two days more, and the Army of the
Potomac will be on its way to Bull Run. I find this registered in my
journal July 15th, 1861, without any comment whatever. But I do not
require a journal to refresh my memory with regard to the events of those
two days of preparation which followed their announcement. The Army of the
Potomac was soon to meet the enemy for the first time--a great battle was
to be fought. Oh, what excitement and enthusiasm that order
produced--nothing could be heard but the wild cheering of the men, as
regiment after regiment received their orders. The possibility of a defeat
never seemed to enter the mind of any. All the sick in camp now were to be
sent to Washington, clothes changed, knapsacks packed, letters written
home, packages sent to the express office, etc. After all was done,
everything in readiness, and the sick men tenderly laid in the ambulances,
Mrs. B. said: "Now let us go to every ambulance and bid the boys
good-bye." As we passed along from one ambulance to another, speaking
words of encouragement to each soldier, many a tear would start from
grateful eyes, and many a feeble voice uttered an earnest "God bless you,"
while others would draw from their bosoms some cherished relic, and give
as a token of remembrance. Oh how hard it was to part with those men, with
whom we had watched so many weary days and nights--we felt that they had,
truly, "become endeared to us through suffering."
There was one patient, however, we did not put into an ambulance, and who
was a great source of anxiety to us. He lay there upon a stretcher close
by, waiting to be carried to a house not far distant. He was young, not
seventeen, with clear blue eyes, curly auburn hair, and a broad, white
brow; his mother's pride, and an only son. Two weeks previously he had
been attacked with typhoid fever. The surgeon said, "You may do all you
can for him, but it is a hopeless case." Mrs. B. had devoted most of her
time to him and I was often called to assist her. He was delirious and
became quite unmanageable at times, and it required all the strength we
possessed to keep him in bed; but now the delirium of fever had passed
away and he was helpless as an infant. We had written for his mother to
come if possible, and had just received a letter from her, stating that
she was on her way to Washington; but would she come before we were
obliged to leave? Oh, we hoped so, and were anxiously looking for her.
The ambulances started with their freight of emaciated, suffering men.
Slowly that long train wound its way toward the city looking like a great
funeral procession, and sadly we turned to our remaining patient, who was
deeply affected at the removal of his comrades. He was then carried to the
house above mentioned and a nurse left to take care of him, while we were
obliged to prepare for our own comfort on the long weary march which was
so near at hand. We had just commenced to pack our saddle-bags, when we
heard an unusual noise, as of some one crying piteously, and going out to
learn the cause of the excitement, whom should we find but the mother of
our handsome blue-eyed patient. She had called at the surgeon's tent to
inquire for her son, and he had told her that all the sick had been sent
to Washington, he having forgotten for the moment, the exception with
regard to her son. The first words I heard were spoken in the most
touching manner--"Oh, why did you send away my boy? I wrote you I was
coming; Oh, why did you send him away!"
I shall never forget the expression of that mother's face as she stood
there wringing her hands and repeating the question. We very soon
rectified the mistake which the surgeon had made, and in a few moments she
was kneeling by the bedside of her darling boy, and we returned rejoicing
that it had been our privilege to "deliver him to his mother." Oh, how
many, who come to Washington in search of loved ones, are caused
unnecessary pain, yes, weeks of torturing suspense and fruitless search,
in consequence of some little mistake on the part of a surgeon, a nurse,
or some person who is supposed to know just where the sought for are to be
found.
The 17th of July dawned bright and clear, and everything being in
readiness, the Army of the Potomac took up its line of march for Manassas.
In gay spirits the army moved forward, the air resounding with the music
of the regimental bands, and patriotic songs of the soldiers. No gloomy
forebodings seemed to damp the spirits of the men, for a moment, but "On
to Richmond," was echoed and re-echoed, as that vast army moved rapidly
over the country. I felt strangely out of harmony with the wild, joyous
spirit which pervaded the troops. As I rode slowly along, watching those
long lines of bayonets as they gleamed and flashed in the sunlight, I
thought that many, very many, of those enthusiastic men who appeared so
eager to meet the enemy, would never return to relate the success or
defeat of that splendid army. Even if victory should perch upon their
banners, and I had no doubt it would, yet many noble lives must be
sacrificed ere it could be obtained.
The main column reached Fairfax toward evening and encamped for the night.
Col. R.'s wife of the Second ----, Mrs. B. and myself were, I think, the
only three females who reached Fairfax that night. The day had been
extremely hot, and not being accustomed to ride all day beneath a burning
sun, we felt its effects very sensibly, and consequently, hailed with joy
the order to encamp for the night. Notwithstanding the heat and fatigue of
the day's march, the troops were in high spirits, and immediately began
preparing supper. Some built fires while others went in search of, and
appropriated, every available article which might in any way add to the
comfort of hungry and fatigued men.
The whole neighborhood was ransacked for milk, butter, eggs, poultry, etc.
which were found insufficient in quantity to supply the wants of such a
multitude. There might have been heard some stray shots fired in the
direction of a field where a drove of cattle were quietly grazing; and
soon after the odor of fresh steak was issuing from every part of the
camp. I wish to state, however, that all "raids" made upon hen-coops, etc.
were contrary to the orders of the General in command, for during the day
I had seen men put under arrest for shooting chickens by the roadside.
I was amused to hear the answer of a hopeful young darkey cook, when
interrogated with regard to the broiled chickens and beef steak which he
brought on for supper. Col. R. demanded, in a very stern voice, "Jack,
where did you get that beef steak and those chickens?" "Massa, I'se
carried dem cl'ar from Washington; thought I'd cook 'em 'fore dey
sp'il'd"; and then added, with a broad grin, "I aint no thief, I aint."
Col. R. replied: "That will do, Jack, you can go now." Then the Colonel
told us how he had seen Jack running out of a house, as he rode along, and
a woman ran out calling after him with all her might, but Jack never
looked behind him, but escaped as fast as he could, and was soon out of
sight. Said he, "I thought the young rascal had been up to some mischief,
so I rode up and asked the woman what was the matter, and found he had
stolen all her chickens; I asked her how much they were worth; she
"reckoned" about two dollars. I think she made a pretty good hit, for
after I paid her, she told me she had had only two chickens." Supper being
over, pickets posted, and camp guards detailed, all became quiet for the
night.
Early the next morning the reveille beat, the whole camp was soon in
motion, and after a slight breakfast from our haversacks the march was
resumed. The day was very hot, and we found great difficulty in obtaining
water, the want of which caused the troops much suffering. Many of the
men were sun-struck, and others began to drop out of the ranks from
exhaustion. All such as were not able to march were put into ambulances
and sent back to Washington. Toward noon, the tedium of the march began to
be enlivened by sharp volleys of musketry, in the direction of the advance
guard; but those alarms were only occasioned by our skirmishers, pouring a
volley into everything which looked as if it might contain a masked
battery, or a band of the enemy's sharpshooters.
Considerable excitement prevailed throughout the day, as we were every
hour in expectation of meeting the enemy. Carefully feeling its way,
however, the army moved steadily on, investigating every field, building,
and ravine, for miles in front and to the right and left, until it reached
Centerville, where we halted for the night.
The troops now began to feel the effects of the march, and there was
evidently a lack of that pic-nic hilarity which had characterized them the
day before. Several regiments had been supplied with new shoes the day
before leaving camp, and they found by sad experience, that they were not
the most comfortable things to march in, as their poor blistered feet
testified; in many cases their feet were literally raw, the thick woolen
stockings having chafed the skin off. Mrs. B. and I, having provided
ourselves before leaving camp, with a quantity of linen, bandages, lint,
ointment, etc. found it very convenient now, even before a shot had been
fired by the enemy.
Our surgeons began to prepare for the coming battle, by appropriating
several buildings and fitting them up for the wounded--among others the
stone church at Centerville--a church which many a soldier will remember,
as long as memory lasts. Late that evening as I was returning from this
church, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. B., I proposed that we should walk
through the entire camp to see how the boys were employed, on this, the
eve of their first battle. We found many engaged in writing by the
glimmering light of the camp-fire--soldiers always carry writing materials
on a march; some were reading their bibles, perhaps with more than usual
interest; while others sat in groups, conversing in low earnest tones; but
the great mass were stretched upon the ground, wrapped in their blankets,
fast asleep, and all unconscious of the dangers of the morrow.
We were about to return to our quarters in a log cabin built by the rebel
soldiers, and which had been evacuated only a few days previous, when we
heard several voices singing in a little grove not far from camp. We
turned and walked toward the grove, until we could hear distinctly, the
words of the following beautiful hymn:
"O, for a faith that will not shrink,
Though press'd by every foe,
That will not tremble on the brink
Of any earthly woe;
That will not murmur or complain
Beneath the chastening rod,
But, in the hour of grief and pain,
Will lean upon its God;
A faith that shines more bright and clear
When tempests rage without;
That, when in danger, knows no fear,
In darkness knows no doubt."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. B., "I recognize Willie L.'s voice there. I understand
now; this is Willie's prayer meeting night, and notwithstanding the
fatigue of the march and blistered feet, he has not forgotten it." We drew
nearer to listen to and enjoy the exercises unperceived, for no sooner had
the last words of the hymn died away on the still midnight air, than
Willie's clear voice rose in prayer, filling the grove with its rich,
pathetic tones. He prayed for victory on the morrow, for his comrades, for
loved ones at home, and his voice grew tremulous with emotion, as he plead
with the Saviour to comfort and support his widowed mother, if he should
fall in battle.
Then followed a practical talk about being faithful soldiers of Jesus, as
well as of their beloved country; of the necessity of being prepared at
any moment, to lay down the cross and take up the crown. One after another
prayed and spoke, until about a dozen--and that included the whole number
present--had addressed the Throne of Grace, and testified to the power of
the Gospel of Christ in the salvation of sinners. No one was called upon
to pray or speak, no one said he had nothing to say and then talked long
enough to prove it, no one excused his inability to interest his brethren,
and no time was lost by delay, but every one did his duty, and did it
promptly. We retired feeling refreshed and encouraged.
After ascertaining the position of the enemy, Gen. McDowell ordered
forward three divisions, commanded by Heintzelman, Hunter and Tyler, Miles
being left in reserve at Centerville. Sunday morning before dawn, those
three divisions moved forward, presenting a magnificent spectacle, as
column after column wound its way over the green hills and through the
hazy valleys, with the soft moonlight falling on the long lines of shining
steel. Not a drum or bugle was heard during the march, and the deep
silence was only broken by the rumbling of artillery, the muffled tread of
infantry, or the low hum of thousands of subdued voices.
The divisions separated where three roads branch off toward Bull Run, each
taking the road leading to its respective position. Soon the morning broke
bright and clear, bringing the two contending armies in plain sight of
each other. The enemy was posted on heights that rose in regular slopes
from the shore crowned here and there by earthworks. The woods that
interfered with his cannon ranges had all been cut away, and his guns had
a clean sweep of every approach. On our side the descent was more
gradual, and covered with a dense forest. The roar of artillery soon
announced that the battle had actually commenced.
Mrs. B. and myself took our position on the field, according to orders, in
connection with Gen. Heintzelman's division, having delivered our horses
to Jack for safe keeping, with strict orders to remain where he was, for
we might require them at any moment. I imagine now, I see Mrs. B., as she
stood there, looking as brave as possible, with her narrow brimmed leghorn
hat, black cloth riding habit, shortened to walking length by the use of a
page, a silver-mounted seven-shooter in her belt, a canteen of water swung
over one shoulder and a flask of brandy over the other, and a haversack
with provision, lint, bandages, adhesive plaster, etc. hanging by her
side. She was tall and slender, with dark brown hair, pale face, and blue
eyes.
Chaplain B. sat upon his horse looking as solemn as if standing face to
face with the angel of death. The first man I saw killed was a gunner
belonging to Col. R.'s command. A shell had burst in the midst of the
battery, killing one and wounding three men and two horses. Mr. B. jumped
from his horse, hitched it to a tree, and ran forward to the battery; Mrs.
B. and I following his example as fast as we could. I stooped over one of
the wounded, who lay upon his face weltering in his blood; I raised his
head, and who should it be but Willie L. He was mortally wounded in the
breast, and the tide of life was fast ebbing away; the stretchers were
soon brought, and he was carried from the field.
Seeing the disaster from a distance, Col. R. rode up to the battery, and
as he was engaged in giving orders, a solid shot came whizzing by in such
close proximity to his head, that it stunned him for a moment; but soon
recovering, he turned up the side of his head and shrugged his shoulders,
a peculiarity of his, and in his usual nasal twang, said, "rather close
quarters," and rode away, apparently as unconcerned as if it had been a
humming bird which crossed his path. But not content with admonishing the
Colonel, the same shot struck my poor little flask of brandy which lay
near me on a drum-head, shattering it as spitefully as if sent by the
combined force of the Order of "Good Templars."
Now the battle began to rage with terrible fury. Nothing could be heard
save the thunder of artillery, the clash of steel, and the continuous roar
of musketry. Oh, what a scene for the bright sun of a holy Sabbath morning
to shine upon! Instead of the sweet influences which we associate with the
Sabbath--the chiming of church bells calling us to the house of prayer,
the Sabbath school, and all the solemn duties of the sanctuary, there was
confusion, destruction and death. There was no place of safety for miles
around; the safest place was the post of duty. Many that day who turned
their backs upon the enemy and sought refuge in the woods some two miles
distant, were found torn to pieces by shell, or mangled by cannon ball--a
proper reward for those who, insensible to shame, duty, or patriotism,
desert their cause and comrades in the trying hour of battle, and skulk
away cringing under the fear of death.