"_Bri-ga-a-a-de_--ATTENTION!"
"_Fi-i-i-x_--BAYONETS!"
"_For-w-a-r-d_--" and the next I knew men were dropping down all around
me, and we were advancing. But only for a minute did we go forward. From
front and left came a tempest of lead; again the colours--both--fell,
and all the colour-guard. The colonel raised the colours. We staggered
and fell back; the retreat through the woods became disorder.
On top of our hill I could see but few men whom I knew,--only six, but
one of the six was Haskell. The enemy had not advanced, but shell and
shot yet raked the hill. Crenshaw's battery was again in full action. We
hunted our regiment and failed to find it. Some regiment--the Thirtieth
North Carolina--was advancing on our right. Captain Haskell and his six
men joined this regiment, placing themselves on its left. The Thirtieth
went forward through the woods--reached the open--and charged.
The regiment charged boldly; forward straight it went, no man seeing
whither, every man with his mouth stretched wide and his voice at
its worst.
Suddenly, down to the ground fell every man; the line had found a sunken
road, and the temptation was too great--down into the friendly road we
fell, and lay with bodies flat and faces in the dust.
The officers waved their swords; they threatened the men; the men
calmly looked at their officers.
A man on a great horse rode up and down the line urging, gesticulating.
He got near to Haskell--
"Who _are_ you?" shouted our Captain.
"Captain Blount--quartermaster fourth North Carolina."
"We will follow you!" shouted Haskell.
Blount rode on his great horse--he rode to the centre of the
Thirtieth--he stooped; he seized the colour--he lifted the battle-flag
high in the air--he turned his great horse--he rode up the hill.
Then those men lying in the sunken road sprang to their feet, and
followed their flag fluttering in front, and made the world hideous
with yells.
And the red flag went down--and Blount was dead--and the great horse was
lying on his side and kicking the air--and the hill was gained.
The Thirtieth was disorganized by its advance. Another North Carolina
regiment came from the right rear. Haskell and his six were yet
unbroken; they joined the advancing regiment, keeping on its left, and
charged with it for another position. Believe it or not, the same thing
recurred; the regiment charged well; from the smoke in front death came
out upon it fast; a sunken road was to be crossed, and was not crossed;
down the men all went to save their lives.
And the officers waved their swords, and the men remained in the road.
Now the Captain called the six, and ran to the centre of the regiment;
he snatched the flag and rushed forward up the slope--he looked not
back, but forward.
The six were on the slope--the Captain was farthest forward--one of the
six fell--in falling his face was turned back--he saw that the regiment
was yet in the sunken road, and he shouted to his Captain and told him
that the regiment did not follow.
The Captain came back, and said tenderly, "Ah! Jones? What did I tell
you? Are you hurt badly? I will send for you."
Then the Captain and five turned away to the right, for the flag would
not be taken back to the regiment lying down.
On an open hill between the two battling hosts I was lying. The bullets
and shells came from front and rear. The blue men came on--and the
others went back awhile. I fired at the blue men, and tried to load, but
could not. I felt a great pain strike under my belt and was afraid to
look, for I knew the part was mortal. But at length I exerted my will,
and controlled my fear, and saw my trousers torn. My first wound had
deadened my leg, but I felt no great pain--the leg was numb. The new
blow was torture. I managed to take down my clothing, and saw a great
blue-black spot on my groin. I was confused, and wondered where the
bullet went, and perhaps became unconscious.
Darkness was coming, and Jones or Berwick, or whoever I was, yet lay on
the hill. Now there were dead men and wounded men around me. Had a tide
of war flowed over me while I slept? A voice feebly called for help, and
I crawled to the voice, but could give no help except to cut a shoe from
a crushed foot. The flashes of rifles could be seen,--the enemy's
rifles,--they came nearer and nearer, and I felt doomed to capture.
Then from the rear a roar of voices, and in the gathering gloom a host
of men swept over me, disorderly, but charging hard--- the last charge
of Gaines's Mill.
"What troops are you?" I had strength to ask, and two replied:--
"Hood's brigade."
"The Hampton Legion."
* * * * *
Night had come. The great battle was won. Lights flashed and moved and
disappeared over the hills and hollows of the field,--men with torches
and lanterns; and names of regiments were shouted into the darkness by
the searchers for wounded friends who replied, and for others who could
not. At last I heard: "First South Carolina! First South Carolina!" and
I gathered up my strength and cried, "Here!" Louis Bellot and two others
came to me. They carried me tenderly away, but not far; still in the
field of blood they laid me down on the hillside--and a night of horror
passed slowly away.
* * * * *
The next morning, June 28th, they bore me on a stretcher back to the
field hospital near Dr. Gaines's, just in rear of the battlefield. Our
way was through scattered corpses. We passed by many Zouaves, lying
stiff and stark; one I shall always call to mind: he was lying flat on
his back, the soles of his feet firm on the ground, his knees drawn up
to right angles above, and with his elbows planted on the grass, his
fingers clinched the air. His open mouth grinned ghastly on us as
we went by.
At the field hospital the dangerously wounded were so numerous that I
was barely noticed; a brief examination; "flesh wound"--that was all. I
had already found out that the bullet had passed entirely through the
fleshy part of my thigh, and I had no fears; but the limb now gave me
great pain, and I should have been glad to have it dressed. I was laid
upon the ground under a tree and remained there until night, when I was
put with others into an ambulance and taken to some station on some
railroad--I have never known what station or what road. The journey was
painful. I was in the upper story of the ambulance. We jolted over rough
roads, halting frequently because the long train filled the road ahead.
The men in the lower story were badly wounded, groaning, and begging for
this or that. I did not know their voices; they were not of our company.
But some time in the night I learned somehow--I suppose by his companion
calling his name--that one of the men below me was named Virgil Harley.
Harley? I thought--Virgil Harley? Why, I knew that name once! Surely I
knew that name in South Carolina! And I would have spoken, but was made
aware that Virgil Harley was wounded unto death. When we reached the
railroad, I was taken out and lifted into a car, I asked about Virgil
Harley. "He is dead," was the answer.
Then I felt more than ever alone because of this slightest opportunity,
now lost forever. Virgil Harley might have been able to tell me of
myself. He was dead. I had not even seen him. I had but heard his voice
in groans that ended in the death-rattle.