'He tires betimes, that too fast spurs betimes."--Shakespeare.
"_Fall in, men! Fall in Company D_!"
It was after two o'clock on the morning of July 21.
We had scarcely slept. For two or three days we had been in a constant
state of nervous expectancy. On the 18th the armed reconnaissance on
Bull Run had brought more than our generals had counted on; we had heard
the combat, but had taken no part in it. Now the attack by the left had
been abandoned.
The early part of the night of the 20th had been spent in trying to get
rations; at twelve o'clock we had two days' cooked rations in our
haversacks.
At about three o'clock the regiment turned south, into the road for
Centreville.
Willis said that we were to flank Beauregard's left; but nobody took the
trouble to assent or deny.
At Centreville there was a long and irksome halt; some lay down--in the
road--by the side of the road; some kept their feet and moved about
impatiently.
An army seemed to be passing in the road before our column, and we must
wait till the way was clear.
Little noise was made by the column marching on the road intersecting
ours. There was light laughter occasionally, but in general the men were
silent, going forward with rapid strides, or standing stock still when
brought to an abrupt halt whenever the head of the column struck
an obstacle.
I slept by snatches, awaking every time in a jump. Everybody was
nervous; even the officers could not hide their irritation.
* * * * *
Six o'clock came. The road was clear; the sun was nearly two hours high.
Forward we went at a swinging gait down the road through the dust. In
ten minutes the sweat was rolling. No halt--no pause--no command, except
the everlasting "Close up! close up!"
Seven o'clock ... we turn to the right--northwest--a neighbourhood road;
... fields; ... thickets; ... hills--not so much dust now, but the sun
getting hotter and hotter, and hotter and hotter getting our thirst.
And Sunday morning ... Close up! close up!
Hear it? Along the southeast the horizon smokes and booms. Hear it? The
cannon roar in the valley below us.
Eight o'clock ... seven miles; nine o'clock ... ten miles; ... a
ford--we cross at double-quick; ... a bridge--we cross at double-quick;
the sound of cannon and small arms is close in our front.
What is that confusion up on the hill? Smoke and dust and fire.
See them? Four men with another--and that other, how the red blood
streams from his head!
What are they doing up on the hill? They are dying up on the hill. Why
should they die?
Ah, me! ah, me!
The Eleventh is formed at the foot of the hill; the commander rides to
its front:
"_Colour_--_bearer_--_twelve_--_paces_--_to the front_--MARCH!
_Bat-tal-ion_--_pre-sent_--ARMS!"
Then, with drawn sword, the colonel also salutes the flag--and cries,
DIES BY IT!
A mortal cold goes to the marrow of my bones; my comrades' faces are
white as death.
"_Bat-tal-ion_--_fix_--BAYONETS!
"_For-ward_--_guide centre_--MARCH!"
Slowly we move up the hill; the line sways in curves; we halt and
re-form.
We lie down near the crest; shells burst over us; shells fly with a
dreadful hissing beyond us. I raise my head; right-oblique is a battery;
... it is hidden in smoke; again I see the guns and the horses and the
men; they load and fire, load and fire.
A round shot strikes the ground in our front ... rises ... falls ...
rises--goes over. We fire at the smoke.
Down flat on your face! Do you hear the singing in the air? Thop!
Johnson is hit; he runs to the rear, bending over until his height
is lost.
And now a roar like that of a waterfall; I look again ... the battery
has disappeared ... but the smoke rises and I see a long line of men
come out of the far-off woods and burst upon the guns. The men of the
battery flee, and the rebels swarm among the captured pieces.
Now there are no more hissing shells or bullets singing. We rise and
look,--to our right a regiment is marching forward ... no music, no drum
... marching forward, flag in the centre ... colonel behind the centre,
dismounted,--the men march on; quick time, right-shoulder-shift; the
fleeing cannoneers find safety behind the regiment always marching on.
The rebels at the battery are not in line; some try to drag away the
guns; swords flash in the hot sun; ... the rebels re-form; ... they lie
down; ... and now the regiment is at double-quick with trailed arms; ...
the rebel line rises and delivers its fire.
The smoke swallows everything.
* * * * *
Again I see. The rebel line has melted away. Our own men hold the
battery. They try to turn the guns once more on the fleeing rebels; and
now a rebel battery far to the left works fast upon the regiment in
disorder. A fresh rebel line comes from the woods and rushes for the
battery with the sound of many voices. Our men give way ... they
run--the officers are frantic; all run, all run ... and the cavalry ride
from, the woods, and ride straight through our flying men and strike ...
and many of the fugitives fire upon the horsemen, who in turn flee for
their lives.
* * * * *
It is long past noon; the sun is a huge red shield; the world is smoke.
Another regiment has gone in; the roar of battle grows; crowds of
wounded go by; a battery gallops headlong to the rear ... the men madly
lash the horses.
"_Bat-tal-ion_--ATTENTION!"
Our time is upon us; the Eleventh, stands and forms.
"_For-ward_--MARCH!"
The dust is so dense that I can see nothing in the front, ... but we are
moving. Smith drops; Lewis falls to the rear; the ranks are thinning;
elbows touch no longer ... our pace quickens ... a horrid impatience
seizes me ... through the smoke I see the cannons ... faster, faster ...
I see the rebel line--a tempest breaks in my face--"_Surrender, you
damned Yankee!_"