THE MARCH TO DUMFRIES.--SKIRMISH WITH HAMPTON'S CAVALRY, IN WHICH
THEY ARE BADLY DEFEATED BY A MUCH INFERIOR FORCE.
While at Loudon Heights, the monotony of life in camp was relieved by
drill, guard, and picket duty, with an occasional reconnoissance. On
the latter occasions some little skirmishing would usually occur. An
occasional dash was made by the rebels upon the Union picket-line.
Soon after the occupation of this post the grand army crossed the
Potomac and Shenandoah into the Loudon Valley, on its way to
Fredericksburg. We copy a description of the march of a regiment in
Porter's corps.[2]
[2] Lieutenant W. D. Shepherd.
"I have been thinking of the difference between soldiering that we read
about--fancy soldiering, glory and honor soldiering--and real
soldiering of the rough and tumble kind. How well it sounds to read: 'A
regiment of brave men marched proudly through the streets of Harper's
Ferry, to strains of sweet music. Gallantly the veterans of a dozen
battles streamed along, their banners gayly floating in the breeze;
they go to join the Army of the Potomac.' What is it when divested of
its trimmings? 'About three hundred and fifty of what once was a
regiment one thousand strong, went through Harper's Ferry to-day. In
vain the tum, tum, tum of the drum, at the head of the column, urged
the men to keep time. Wearied, worn out by continued tramping, loaded
down with their knapsacks, three days' rations in their haversacks, and
the prospect of a long march before them, slowly they dragged
themselves along; their torn and tattered flag, as well as soiled
clothes, giving evidence of hard service.' Again let us quote: 'At
evening they halted, and bivouacked for the night; refreshed and ready
at early dawn to continue the line of march.' Sift that a little--that
bivouac. Almost worn out with incessant and continued tramping through
mud, and muck, and mire, great clumps of which would stick and cleave
on to the shoe at every step, the night fast closing in, the column
halted; slowly the lingering mass closed up, stacked arms, and broke
ranks. Some, too tired to make a fire and cook food, threw themselves
on the cold, damp ground, and, with their blankets wrapped around them,
shivered to sleep; others, having eaten scarcely any thing all day,
threw off their cumbrous loads, and started, in the now dark night, in
search of wood and water. An old fire-scorched tin cup answers for a
coffee-pot as well as tea-kettle. Into it the water, muddy with the
feet of perhaps a thousand water-hunting tired ones, is put; and while
the coffee is boiling, a piece of fat pork is drawn from the haversack,
and a slice cut off; a long stick, pointed, on which the slice is
secured, and frizzling, sizzling, half burned, half cooked, ready when
the coffee is. The pork, coffee, and hard bread form, for the hundredth
time, the meal of the hungry soldier. Perhaps on the roadside, right in
the mud, glad in truth to lie anywhere, one after another drops his
wearied form. The heavy rain comes down in torrents, wetting him
through and through, but tired nature heeds it not--must have rest.
"Early dawn comes. Again the pork, coffee, and hard bread; and
the stiffened, sore, leg-weary patriot buckles on his saturated
knapsack, and, like a foundered horse, limps achingly along till
he gets heated up, with the same prospect before him of twenty miles
tramp--clamp--tramp."
On the 10th day of December the regiment left Bolivar Heights, crossed
the Shenandoah on a pontoon, and winding round the bluff of Loudon,
passed up the Loudon Valley.
While passing through Hillsboro', the command was given, by Lieutenant
Shepherd to his men, to "Close up!--get into your places!" General
Geary, on foot and unobserved, had marched along just in rear of the
company. Hearing the command, he remarked: "Well, here is a vacant
place, I guess I'll fill it up;" and stepped into the place. He
marched, in this manner, some distance, talking freely with those
nearest him, at the same time obeying orders promptly.
The regiment encamped about a mile beyond Hillsboro'.
Bright and early on the following morning the command moved on. Leaving
the battle-field where the brave Kearney fell, and Fairfax on the left,
on the 15th it arrived in sight of the Lower Potomac, and encamped
after crossing Naabsco Creek.
Having passed Dumfries on the 17th, an order came that the Fifth,
Seventh, and Sixty-sixth regiments, under command of Colonel Candy,
should march back and hold that post. On the following day, crossing
Powell's Creek, two hours' march brought the brigade in the outskirts
of Dumfries, where it went into camp.
Nothing transpired worthy of mention until the 27th of December, when
the heavy booming of cannon was heard in the vicinity of the
picket-line. It was evident that the enemy were making a descent on the
pickets. For several days this attack had been expected, therefore in a
few minutes the command was ready and in line of battle. The pickets
gradually gave way, under the command of the indomitable Creighton,
fighting their way back to the line of battle, in which they took
position. The rebels came gallantly forward, in anticipation of an easy
victory. When within short-range of our guns, they were met by such a
terrible fire of musketry from our partially concealed line, as to
check their advance. They, however, rallied, and returned the fire; but
in a moment staggered, and finally withdrew in confusion from the
field. Again forming their broken columns, they hurled themselves
against our line. They were again met by a determined front, and, with
a like result, were sent, broken and mangled, back upon their reserves.
A third time reforming their wasted ranks, they came down with great
impetuosity, and hurled their solid columns against the weak lines of
the Federals. They were again met with a sheet of flame, which sent up
its column of blue smoke along the entire front. For a moment it was
impossible to tell the effect produced on the rebels; but the smoke
clearing away before a light breeze, it was discovered that their
advance had been arrested. One more united effort, and the rebel line
was again sent back crushed and bleeding. They again organized for a
last desperate charge, and most gallantly did they sweep down upon our
line. Up the hill and over the brush and logs, which lay in their way,
with wild impetuosity, which threatened to crush every thing before
them. Aware of the avalanche that was sweeping down upon them, the
Union boys hugged the ground, awaiting, with breathless anxiety, the
command to fire. At last the stentorian voice of the sturdy Crane was
heard to shout the order, when a band of patriots, their eyes kindled
to a blaze with the ardor of their daring, with strong muscles and
steady nerves, rose, and with a shout that made the gray hills of old
Dumfries echo, poured a volley of death into the rebel host. Disdaining
to again take refuge under cover, the line stood manfully up, and met
the continued onsets of the foe. The brave Creighton stood on a hill
exposed to the fire--how could men falter while the noble form of their
leader was thus bared to the bullets of the enemy? They did not falter;
but the line stood like a wall. The rebels were soon seen to waver, and
as the night "cast its mantle over the combatants," they tardily and
solemnly withdrew, bearing with them the lacerated, bleeding victims to
their endurance.
At night the line was drawn in, and after making every effort for the
security of the command, the boys lay down upon their arms, harassed by
an oppressive uncertainty which always haunts the soldier in the
bivouac upon the battle-field.
During that long night the lonely picket-guard peered out into the
darkness, intent upon catching the first footfall of the cautious
foe. Slowly and with careful tread he paced his weary beat, fearful
that he might be pounced upon by the wily enemy ere he could give
the alarm to his slumbering companions. Through rain, and sleet, and
darkness--oppressed with the solemn stillness that at night hangs over
the earth--with a sense of loneliness weighing upon his feelings--he
stood like a spectre in the gloom, the guardian of the thousands
slumbering in the camp. While others dream of home, and friends, and
firesides, afar off on the hills of New England, or the starlit
prairies of the West, the wakeful picket keeps his vigil. May God
protect him in his watch!
As day again dispelled the shadows that darkened the hills and the
valleys, the columns of the brave Sigel were seen winding their way
through the village. A shout of welcome greeted these heroes. The
dreadful suspense that had weighed upon the hearts of the combatants of
the day before, during that long night of watching, now gave place to
cheerfulness; and confidence was again restored. But the cautions
Hampton had fled; and nothing met the eye save the frowning hills.
The following is the list of killed and wounded in this affair:
_Killed._--Corporal Austin Ball.
_Wounded._--Corporal E. M. Corrdett; privates, Sylvester Carter, Philip
Grigsby, Thomas Roff, Wm. P. Root, Wm. H. Kibbee, W. M. Perry, Stephen
Willock.
_Prisoners._--John Gordon, Andrew Atleff, Richard M. Vreeland, Douglass
F. Pomeroy, Henry T. Benton, Lewis T. Butts, Henry Alderman, Charles
Bradly, James Snider, John Beiler, W. M. Perry.