POPE'S ARMY--A GENERAL'S REQUEST--AGAIN A CONTRABAND--ENTERING THE
REBEL LINES AS A SPY--MY ESCAPE TO THE FEDERAL LINES--IN
PERIL--KEARNEY KILLED--CRAWLING THROUGH THE WOODS--BURIAL OF A
PICKET--LOOKING FOR A GENERAL--MR. NEGATIVE--MCCLELLAN AND POPE--THE
BATTLE OF ANTIETAM--A TOUCHING DEATH-SCENE--AN INTERESTING
PATIENT--BURIAL OF A FEMALE SOLDIER.
Immediately after arriving at Alexandria, I started for the battle-field,
where a portion of McClellan's army had gone to reinforce Pope. Everything
seemed to be in a confused state. There was no definite information with
regard to the force of the enemy in that direction, and it seemed
impossible to obtain any from reliable sources. McClellan's troops were
ordered to the front, under new commanders, just as they came off the
transports in which they arrived from the Peninsula, without any rest, or
a proper supply of clothing, shoes, or blankets; all of which they much
needed, after such a march as they had just accomplished.
While the battle raged, and the roar of cannon was reverberating over the
National Capital, McClellan sent the following request to General Halleck:
"I cannot express to you the pain and mortification I have experienced
to-day, in listening to the distant firing of my men. As I can be of no
further use here, I respectfully ask that, if there is a probability of
the conflict being renewed to-morrow, I may be permitted to go to the
scene of battle with my staff, merely to be with my own men, if nothing
more. They will fight none the worse for my being with them. If it is not
deemed best to intrust me with the command even of my own army, I simply
ask to be permitted to share their fate on the field of battle."
The troops under Pope were several days in the vicinity of the Shenandoah
Valley, with no rations but those they found in the fields, such as fruit,
green corn, and vegetables. They certainly were in a poor condition to
fight, and there was evidently a lack of that cheerful, enthusiastic
spirit, which had characterized them on the Peninsula.
I was ordered by General H. to pass the rebel lines, and return as soon as
possible. I took the train at Warrenton Junction, went to Washington,
procured a disguise, that of a female contraband, and returned the same
night. I passed through the enemy's lines in company with nine
contrabands, men, women, and children, who preferred to live in bondage
with their friends, rather than to be free without them. I had no
difficulty whatever in getting along, for I, with several others, was
ordered to headquarters to cook rations enough, the rebels said, to last
them until they reached Washington.
[Illustration: AT REBEL HEADQUARTERS.--Page 263.]
The officers generally talked in low tones, but would sometimes become
excited, forget that there were darkies around, and would speak their
minds freely. When I had been there a few hours, I had obtained the very
information which I had been sent for. I had heard the plan of the morrow
discussed, the number of troops at several important points, and the
number expected to arrive during the night; and this, too, from the lips
of the commanding general and his staff.
The rebel lines were guarded so strongly and so faithfully, that I did not
dare to return that night, but waited anxiously for the dawn of the
morrow.
Early on the following morning, while assisting the cook to carry in
breakfast, I removed a coat from a camp-stool which stood in my way, and a
number of papers fell from its pockets, which I instantly transferred to
my own. I then hurried my arrangements in the tent, lest the documents
should be missed before I could make my escape. Breakfast was announced,
and I suddenly disappeared.
Going toward the picket line nearest the Federals, and seeing an old house
in the distance, I went and hid myself in the cellar. Soon, firing
commenced in different directions, and grew hotter and hotter, until the
shot and shell began to shake the old house in which I had taken refuge,
and by and by it came tumbling down around me. A part of the floor was
broken down, but still I remained unharmed, and did not attempt to leave
the ruins. I remembered that good old Elijah remained in the cave during
the tempest, the earthquake and the fire, and afterward came the still
small voice. So I waited patiently for the still small voice, and felt
secure; knowing that the Lord was a sure refuge, and could protect me
there as well as in a drawing-room in the quiet city.
It was not long before deliverance came, and the rebels were obliged to
fall back and take a new position. When the firing ceased, I was safely
within the Federal lines. I went immediately to headquarters, and reported
myself as having just returned from rebeldom; gave a brief relation of my
experience, and delivered the documents which I had brought from rebel
headquarters. These proved to be orders intended for the different corps
commanders, with instructions how and when to move, so as to act in
concert with the entire plan of the morrow, and insure the capture of
Washington.
During those battles and skirmishes of Pope's memorable campaign, I
visited the rebel generals three times at their own camp-fires, within a
period of ten days, and came away with valuable information, unsuspected
and unmolested.
While the second battle of Bull Run was in progress, I was a part of the
time with the Confederates, and then back again to the Federals, having
made my escape while the battle raged most fiercely by concealing myself
in a ravine, and watching until the rebels charged upon a battery. While
they were engaged in a hand-to-hand fight, I escaped unobserved by friend
or foe.
The last of these visits was made the night before the battle of
Chentilla, in which the brave Kearney was killed. I was within a few rods
of him when he fell, and was in the act of returning to the Union camp
under cover of the extreme darkness of that never-to-be-forgotten night. I
saw him ride up to the line, but supposed him to be a rebel officer until
the pickets fired at him, and even then I thought they had fired at me,
until I saw him fall from his horse, and heard their exclamations of joy
when they discovered who he was; for the one-armed general was known
throughout both armies for his bravery and brilliant career, and the name
of Kearney had become a word of terror to the rebels.
When I learned who was their victim, I regretted that it had not been me
instead of him, whom they had discovered and shot. I would willingly have
died to save such a general to the Union army. But he was taken, while I,
poor insignificant creature, was left; but left with a heart and soul as
fully devoted to the Union cause as Kearney's was; only lacking the
ability to accomplish the same results.
I lost no time in making good my escape, while the attention of the
pickets were drawn in another direction. When I came to our lines, I found
it almost as difficult to get through as I had found it on the other side.
The night was so dark I could not make any sign by which the pickets could
recognize me, and I was in the depths of the forest, where the rustling of
the leaves and the crackling of dry branches under my feet betrayed my
foot-steps as I went along. However, after crawling up pretty close to the
line, and getting behind a tree to screen me from the bullets, if they
should fire, I managed to make myself understood. The picket said: "All
right," and I passed through in safety.
Coming within the lines, I saw a group of men kneeling on the ground
digging a grave with their bayonets, with the least possible noise; for
the picket lines were within half musket shot of each other. One of their
comrades had been killed, and they were thus preparing his last
resting-place.
They buried him darkly at dead of night,
The turf with their bayonets turning.
But there were no "struggling moonbeams," or glimmering stars, to shed a
ray of light upon the midnight gloom of that solitary funeral--naught save
the vivid flashes of lurid flame which the lightning cast upon the sad
scene, lighting up for a moment the surrounding forest, and then dying
away, leaving the darkness more intolerable.
We may well say of such as die at their post:
Sweet be the death of those
Who for their country die;
Sleep on her bosom for repose,
And triumph where they lie.
After reaching headquarters and donning another costume, I was dispatched
to Washington with official documents to McClellan, who was now in command
of the defenses of the Capital, and had control of all the troops who came
streaming in from the disastrous battle-field. I arrived in the city just
as the morning light was breaking, drenched from head to foot, and looking
as if mud was my native element.
Making my way to where I supposed headquarters to be, I saw an important
looking individual near by, whom I addressed, and inquired if he could
tell me where General McClellan was to be found? "No, I can not." Could he
tell me when he was expected at headquarters? "No." Was there any person
there of whom I could inquire? "Not a person." Did he know of any place
where the necessary information could be obtained? "Not a place." Could he
make any suggestion, or throw the least ray of light upon the subject,
which might lead to the whereabouts of the general? "Not the slightest."
Turning away in disgust, I said to the man, "Well, good-by, Mr. Negative.
I hope the effort which you have made to assist me will not injure you
mentally or physically;" and so saying I rode away, feeling that if I was
as big as he imagined himself, and as strong as he was indifferent, I
would give him a vigorous shaking before leaving him.
I went next to General H.'s headquarters. No one there could tell me
anything more definite than that the general had been gone all night,
carrying out General Halleck's orders and making the best possible
disposition of the troops as fast as they came in, for the whole army was
now in full retreat. After two hours search I found him, delivered the
despatches, and returned to Washington, where I remained until the next
day, being completely tired out, not having had a night's sleep for five
nights previous.
On the first of September, General McClellan had an interview with the
President, who requested him to use all his influence with the Army of the
Potomac to insure its hearty co-operation with General Pope's army. In
compliance with the President's request, McClellan sent the following
despatch to General Porter: "I ask of you, for my sake, that of the
country, and the old Army of the Potomac, that you and all my friends will
lend the fullest and most cordial co-operation to General Pope in all the
operations now going on. The destinies of our country, the honor of our
arms, are at stake, and all depends upon the cheerful co-operation of all
in the field. This week is the crisis of our fate. Say the same thing to
my friends in the Army of the Potomac, and that the last request I have to
make of them is, that, for their country's sake, they will extend to
General Pope the same support they ever have to me."
Immediately after this followed the brilliant and triumphant victories at
South Mountain and Antietam, which more than counterbalanced the
disastrous campaign of Pope, and which sent a thrill of joy throughout the
North.
But in this, as in most other instances of earthly bliss, the joy was not
unmixed with sorrow--sorrow for the noble dead and wounded upon those
bloody fields. At the memorable battle of Antietam there were nearly two
hundred thousand men and five hundred pieces of artillery engaged during a
period of fourteen hours without cessation; and at its termination two
thousand seven hundred of the enemy's dead lay upon the field. The report
of the Federal general in command says: "Thirteen guns, thirty-nine
colors, upwards of fifteen thousand stand of small arms, and more than six
thousand prisoners, were the trophies which attest the success of our army
in the battles of South Mountain, Crampton's Gap, and Antietam. Not a
single gun or color was lost by our army during these battles."
At the close of the battle I stood by the side of a dying officer of one
of the Massachusetts regiments, who had passed through the thickest of
the fight unhurt, but just at the close of the battle he was struck by a
random shot which wounded him mortally. As he lay there, conscious of
approaching death, the musicians of the regiment happened to pass by. He
requested that they might be asked to play the "Star-Spangled Banner."
They cheerfully complied with the dying man's request, and while they
played the grand old tune his countenance beamed with joy. He inquired the
result of the battle, and when told that it was a victory he
exclaimed--"Oh! it is glorious to die for one's country at such a time as
this!" Then turning to the chaplain he spoke in the most affecting manner;
he said his trust was in the Redeemer; then he sent loving messages to his
mother and friends at home. The chaplain read some comforting passages of
Scripture and prayed with him, and soon after the happy spirit passed
away.
Some one very appropriately says: "When such sacrifices are laid upon the
altar of our country, we have surely new incentives to uphold the cause
for which they are made, and, with God's help, not to allow the treason
which has slain so many victims, to accomplish its purpose. And, through
this bloody baptism, shall not our nation be purified at length, and
fitted to act a nobler part in the world's history?" God grant it.
In passing among the wounded after they had been carried from the
field, my attention was attracted by the pale, sweet face of a youthful
soldier who was severely wounded in the neck. The wound still bled
profusely, and the boy was growing faint from loss of blood. I stooped
down and asked him if there was anything he would like to have done for
him. The soldier turned a pair of beautiful, clear, intelligent eyes upon
me for a moment in an earnest gaze, and then, as if satisfied with the
scrutiny, said faintly: "Yes, yes; there is something to be done, and that
quickly, for I am dying."
[Illustration: AN INTERESTING PATIENT.--Page 271.]
Something in the tone and voice made me look more closely at the face of
the speaker, and that look satisfied me that my suspicion was well
founded. I went to one of the surgeons in attendance, and requested him to
come and see my patient. He did so, and after a moment's examination of
the wound told me that nothing could be done whatever to save him. He then
left me, and I administered a little brandy and water to strengthen the
wounded boy, for he evidently wished to tell me something that was on his
mind before he died. The little trembling hand beckoned me closer, and I
knelt down beside him and bent my head until it touched the golden locks
on the pale brow before me; I listened with breathless attention to catch
every sound which fell from those dying lips, the substance of which was
as follows:
"I can trust you, and will tell you a secret. I am not what I seem, but
am a female. I enlisted from the purest motives, and have remained
undiscovered and unsuspected. I have neither father, mother nor sister. My
only brother was killed to-day. I closed his eyes about an hour before I
was wounded. I shall soon be with him. I am a christian, and have
maintained the christian character ever since I entered the army. I have
performed the duties of a soldier faithfully, and am willing to die for
the cause of truth and freedom. My trust is in God, and I die in peace. I
wish you to bury me with your own hands, that none may know after my death
that I am other than my appearance indicates." Then looking at me again in
that earnest, scrutinizing manner, she said: "I know I can trust you--you
will do as I have requested?"
I assured her that she might place implicit confidence in me, and that I
would do as she had desired me. Then I sought out a chaplain, who came and
prayed with her. She was calm and peaceful. I remained with her until she
died, which was about an hour. Then making a grave for her under the
shadow of a mulberry tree near the battle-field, apart from all others,
with the assistance of two of the boys who were detailed to bury the dead,
I carried her remains to that lonely spot and gave her a soldier's burial,
without coffin or shroud, only a blanket for a winding-sheet. There she
sleeps in that beautiful forest where the soft southern breezes sigh
mournfully through the foliage, and the little birds sing sweetly above
her grave.
Her race is run. In Southern clime
She rests among the brave;
Where perfumed blossoms gently fall,
Like tears, around her grave.
No loving friends are near to weep
Or plant bright flowers there;
But birdlings chant a requiem sweet,
And strangers breathe a prayer.
She sleeps in peace; yes, sweetly sleeps,
Her sorrows all are o'er;
With her the storms of life are past:
She's found the heavenly shore.