"What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st ought, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st."--SHAKESPEARE.
When the train of wounded arrived in Richmond, it was early morning.
Many men and women had forsaken their beds to minister unto the needs of
the suffering; delicacies were served bountifully, and hearts as well as
stomachs were cheered; there were evidences of sympathy and honour on
every hand.
Late in the forenoon I was taken to Byrd Island Hospital--an old
tobacco factory now turned into something far different. My clothing was
cut from me and taken away. Then my wound--full of dirt and even
worms--was carefully dressed. The next morning the nurse brought me the
contents of my pockets. She gave me, among the rest, a marble and a
flattened musket-ball, which, she had found in the watch-pocket of my
trousers. Now I recalled that I had put my "taw" in that pocket; the
bullet had struck the marble, which had saved me from a serious if not
fatal wound.
The ward in which I found myself contained perhaps a hundred wounded
men, not one of whom I knew, though there were a few belonging to my
regiment--other companies than mine. Acquaintance was quickly made,
however, by men on adjoining cots; but no man, I think, was ever called
by his name. He was Georgia, or Alabama,--his State, whatever that was.
My neighbours called me, of course, South Carolina.
Many had fatal wounds; almost every morning showed a vacant cot. I
remember that the man on the next cot at my left, whose name in ward
vernacular was Alabama, had a story to tell. One morning I noticed that
he was wearing a clean white homespun shirt on which were amazingly big
blue buttons. I allowed myself to ask him why such buttons had been
used. He replied that, a month before he had been on furlough at his
home in Alabama, and that his mother had made him two new shirts, and
had made use of the extraordinary objects which I now saw because they
were all she had. He had told her jestingly that she was putting that
big blue button on the middle of his breast to be a target for some
Yankee; and, sure enough, the wound which had sent him to the hospital
was a rifle shot that struck the middle button. I laughed, and Alabama
laughed, too, but not long. He died.
For nearly two months I remained in this woful hospital. Life there was
totally void of incident. After the first week, in which we learned of
the further successes of the Confederate arms and of our final check at
Malvern Hill, anxiety was no longer felt concerning Lee's army, now
doing nothing more than watching McClellan, who had intrenched on the
river below Richmond, under the protection of the Federal fleet. We
learned with some degree of interest that another Federal army was
organizing under General Pope somewhere near Warrenton; but Southern
hopes were so high in consequence of the ruin of McClellan's campaign,
and the manifest safety of Richmond, that the new army gave us no
concern; of course I am speaking of the common soldiers amongst whom I
found myself.
At the end of a fortnight my wound was beginning to heal a little, and
in ten days more I began to hobble about the room on crutches. On the
first day of August I was surprised to see Joe Bellot enter the ward.
The brigade had marched into Richmond, and was about to take the cars
for Gordonsville in order to join Jackson, who was making head against
Pope. It was only a few minutes that Bellot could stay with me; he had
to hurry back to the command.
Then I became restless. The surgeons told me that I could get a
furlough; but what did I want with a furlough? To go home? My home was
Company H.
I was limping about without crutches, and getting strong rapidly, when
the papers told us of Jackson's encounter with Banks at Cedar Run. Then
my feverish anxiety to see the one or two persons in the world whom I
loved became intense. I walked into the surgeon's office, keeping myself
straight, and asked an order remanding me to my company. He flatly
refused to give it. Said he, "You would never reach your company; where
is it, by the way?"
"Near Gordonsville, somewhere," said I.
"I will find out to-day; come to me to-morrow morning."
On the next day he said, "Your regiment is on the Rapidan. You would
have to walk at least twenty miles from Gordonsville; it would
be insane."
"Doctor," said I, "I am confident that I can march."
"Yes," said he; "so am I; you can march just about a mile and a half by
getting somebody to tote your gun and knapsack. Come to me again in
about a week."
I came to him four days afterward, and worried him into giving me my
papers, by means of which I got transportation to Gordonsville, where I
arrived, in company with many soldiers returning to their commands, on
August 22d. From Gordonsville I took the road north afoot. There was no
difficulty in knowing the way, for there was no lack of men and wagons
going and returning. I had filled a haversack with food before I left
Richmond--enough for two days. My haversack, canteen, and a blanket were
all my possessions.
At about two o'clock the next day, as I was plodding over a hot dusty
road somewhere in Culpeper County, I met a wagon, which stopped as I
approached. The teamster beckoned to me to come to him. He said: "Don't
go up that hill yonder. There is a crazy man in the road and he's
a-tryin' to shoot everybody he sees. Better go round him." I thanked the
teamster, who drove on. At the foot of the ascending hill I looked ahead
to see whether there was a way to get round it, but the road seemed
better than any other way. Heavy clouds were rolling up from the south,
with wind and thunder. A farmhouse was on the hill at the left of the
road; I wanted to get there if possible before the rain. In the road I
saw nobody. I walked up the hill, thinking that, after all, my friend
the wagoner was playing a practical joke upon me. All at once, from the
side of the road, a Confederate soldier showed himself. He sprang into
the middle of the road some six paces in front of me, presented his gun
at me with deliberate aim, and pulled the trigger without saying a word.
Altogether it was a very odd performance on his part and an unpleasant
experience for me. When his gun failed to fire, he changed his attitude
at once, and began the second part of his programme. He dropped his
piece to the position of ordered arms, kept himself erect as on
dress-parade, raised his right hand high, and shouted, "The cannons!
the cannons!"
I stood and looked at him ten seconds; then I tried to slip round him,
keeping my eyes on him, however, for fear that his gun might, after all,
be loaded; he faced me again, and repeated his cry, "The cannons!
the cannons!"
The rain was beginning to fall in big drops. I rushed past him, and
seeing--nearer to me than the house--some immense haystacks with
overhanging projections resulting from continued invasion by cattle, I
was soon under their sheltering eaves. As I ran, I could hear behind me
the warning voice of the soldier, who evidently had lost his reason
in battle.
* * * * *
As night fell on the 24th I was standing behind a tree, waiting to
surprise Company H. I had reached the lines while they were moving;
Hill's Light Division was passing me. Soon came General Gregg, riding at
the head of his brigade; then one regiment after another till the
last--the First--appeared in sight, with Company C leading. I remained
behind the tree; at last I could see Captain Haskell marching by the
side of Orderly-sergeant Mackay; then I stepped out and marched by the
side of the Captain. At first, in the twilight, he did not know me;
then, with a touch of gladness in his voice, he said: "I did not expect
you back so soon. Are you fully recovered?"
"I report for duty, Captain," I replied.
He made me keep by his side until we halted for the night, and had me
tell him my experiences in the hospital and on the road. He informed me
briefly of the movements which had taken place recently. The regiment
had been under fire in the battle with Banks, but had not suffered any
loss. On this day--the 24th--the regiment had been under fire of the
Federal artillery on the Rappahannock. We were now near the river at a
place called Jeffersonton, and were apparently entering upon the first
movements of an active campaign.
The company was much smaller than I had known it. We had lost in the
battles of the Chickahominy many men and officers. Disease and hardship
had further decreased our ranks. Captain Haskell was almost the only
officer in the company. My mess had broken up. There were but four
remaining of the original nine, and these four had found it more
convenient for two men, or even one, to form a mess. I found a companion
in Joe Bellot, whose brother had been wounded severely at Gaines's Mill.
Bellot had a big quart cup in which we boiled soup, and coffee when we
had any, or burnt-bread for coffee when the real stuff was lacking.
Flour and bacon were issued to the men. We kneaded dough on an oilcloth,
or gum-blanket as the Yankee prisoners called it, and baked the dough by
spreading it on barrel-heads and propping them before the fire. When
these boards were not to be had, we made the dough into long slender
rolls, which, we twined about an iron ramrod and put before the fire on
wooden forks stuck in the ground. My haversack of food brought from
Richmond was exhausted; this night but one day's ration was issued.
* * * * *
On the next morning Jackson began his movement around Pope's right. I
had no rifle, or cartridge-box, or knapsack, and managed so as to keep
up. Being unarmed, I was allowed to march at will--in the ranks or not,
as I chose. The company numbered thirty-one men. The day's march was
something terrible. We went west, and northwest, and north, fording
streams, taking short cuts across fields, hurrying on and on. No train
of wagons delayed our march; our next rations must be won from the
enemy. Jackson's rule in marching was two miles in fifty minutes, then
ten minutes rest,--but this day there was no rule; we simply marched,
and rested only when obstacles compelled a halt,--which loss must at
once be made up by extra exertion. At night we went into bivouac near a
village called Salem. We were now some ten or fifteen miles to the west
of Pope's right flank.
There were no rations, and the men were broken and hungry. A detail from
each company was ordered to gather the green ears from some fields of
corn purchased for the use of the government. That night I committed the
crime of eating eighteen of the ears half roasted.
At daylight on the 26th we again took up the march. I soon straggled. I
was deathly sick. Captain Haskell tried to find a place for me in some
ambulance, but failed. I went aside into thick woods and lay down; I
slept, and when I awoke the sun was in mid-heaven, and Jackson's corps
was ten miles ahead, but I was no longer ill. The troops had all passed
me; there were no men on the road except a few stragglers like myself. I
hurried forward through White Plains--then along a railroad through a
gap in some mountains--then through Gainesville at dark--and at last,
about ten o'clock at night, after questioning until I was almost in
despair, I found Company H asleep in a clover field. Still no rations.
Before dawn of the 27th we were waked by the sound of musketry toward
the east--seemingly more than two miles away. We moved at sunrise, and
soon reached Manassas Junction, already held by our troops. Up to this
time I had been unarmed, and all the men destitute of food; here now was
an embarrassment of riches. I got a short Enfield rifle, marked for
eleven hundred yards. Everything was in abundance except good water. The
troops of Jackson and Ewell and Hill crammed their haversacks, and
loaded themselves with whatever their fancies chose--ludicrous fancies
in too many cases. Hams could be seen on bayonets. Comstock got a lot of
smoking tobacco and held to it tenaciously, refusing to divide. Cans of
vegetables, and sardines, and preserved fruits; coffee, sugar, tea,
medicines--everything, even to women's wearing apparel, was taken or
burnt. Our regiment lay by a muddy pool whose water we were forced to
drink, though filth--even horses' bones--lay on its margin, and I know
not what horrors beneath its green, slimy surface. Before daylight of
the 28th we marched northward in the glare of the burning cars and
camps. We crossed Bull Run on a bridge, some of the men fording; here we
got better water, but not good water.
In the forenoon we readied Centreville and halted. Nobody seemed to know
the purpose of this movement toward the north. Were we making for
Washington? I had the chance of speaking to the Captain. He told me that
he thought Jackson's corps was in a close place, but that he had no
doubt we should be able to hold our own until Longstreet could force his
way to our help. We were between Pope's army and Washington, and it was
certain that Pope would make every effort to crush Jackson.
About two o'clock the troops were put in motion, heading west, down the
Warrenton pike. It now appeared that only A. P. Hill's division had
marched to Centreville; the other divisions of Jackson's corps were at
the west, and beyond Bull Run. After matching a mile or two we could
see to the eastward and south, great clouds of dust rolling up above the
woods, evidently made by a column in march upon the road by which, we
had that morning advanced from Manassas to Centreville. We knew that
Pope's army--or a great part of it--was making that dust, and that Pope
was hot after Jackson. We crossed Bull Run on the stone bridge and
halted in the road. It was about five o'clock; the men were weary--most
of us had loaded ourselves too heavily with the spoils of Manassas and
were repenting, but few had as yet begun to throw away their booty. My
increased burden bore upon me, but I had as yet held out; in fact, the
greater part of my load--beyond weapon, and accoutrements--consisted in
food which diminished at short intervals. We could not yet
expect rations.
We had rested perhaps half an hour. Again we were ordered to march, and
moved to the right through woods and fields, and formed line facing
south. How long our line was I did not know; I supposed the whole of
Hill's division was there, though I could see only our regiment. Soon
firing began at our right and right front; it increased in volume, and
artillery and musketry roared and subsided until dark and after. At
dark, the brigade again moved to the right, seemingly to support the
troops that had been engaged, and which we found to be Ewell's division.
We lay on our arms in columns of regiments. We were ordered to preserve
the strictest silence. We were told that a heavy column of the enemy was
passing just beyond the hills in front of us. Suddenly the sound of many
voices broke out beyond the hills. The Federal column was cheering. Near
and far the cry rose and fell as one command after another took it from
the next. What the noise was made for I never knew; probably Pope's
sanguine order, in which he expressed the certainty of having "the whole
crowd bagged," had been made known to his troops for the purpose of
encouraging them. Our men were silent, even gloomy, not knowing what
good fortune had made our enemies sound such high, triumphant notes; yet
I believe that every man, as he lay in his unknown position that night,
had confidence that in the battle of the morrow, now looked for as a
certainty, the genius of Lee and of Jackson would guide us to one
more victory.
Early on the morning of Friday, the 29th, we moved, but where I do not
know--only that we moved in a circuitous way, and not very far, and that
when we again formed line, we seemed to be facing northeast. Already the
sound of musketry and cannon had been heard close in our front. Our
regiment, left in front, was in the woods. We brought our right in
front, and then the brigade moved forward down a slope to an
unfinished railroad.
Comstock had given away all of his smoking tobacco, saying that he would
not need it.
Company H had been thrown out to left and front as skirmishers. The
regiment moved across the railroad and through the woods into the fields
beyond, far to the right of the position held by Company H. The regiment
met the enemy in heavy force; additional regiments from the brigade were
hurried to the support of the First, which, by this time, was falling
back before a full division of the enemy. The brigade retired in good
order to the railroad, and Company H was ordered back into the battle
line on the left of the First.
[Illustration: Map entitled "SECOND MANASSAS, Aug. 29, 1882"]
It was almost ten o'clock. Four companies of the First regiment, under
Captain Shooter, were now ordered forward through the woods as
skirmishers; on the left of this force was Haskell's company. We came up
with the enemy's skirmishers posted behind trees, and began firing. We
advanced, driving the Yankee skirmish-line slowly through the woods.
After some fluctuations in the fight, seeing that our small force was
much too far from support, order was given to the skirmishers to retire;
a heavy line of the enemy had been developed. This order did not reach
my ears. I suppose that I was in the very act of firing when the order
was given. While reloading, I became aware that the company had retired,
as I could see no man to my right or left. Looking round, I saw the line
some thirty yards in my rear, moving back toward the brigade. Now I
feared that in retreating, my body would be a target for many rifles.
The Yankees were not advancing. I sprang back quickly from my tree to
another. Rifles cracked. Again I made a similar movement--and again--at
each tree, as I got behind it, pausing and considering in front. At last
I was out of sight of the enemy, and also out of sight of Company H.
The toils of the last week had been hard upon me. My wounded leg had not
regained its full strength. I was hot and thirsty as well as weak. I
crossed a wet place in the low woods and looked for water. Still no
enemy was pursuing. I searched for a spring or pool, following the wet
place down a gentle slope, which inclined to my right oblique as I
retreated. Soon I found a branch and drank my fill; then I filled my
canteen and rose to my feet refreshed.
Just below me, uprooted by some storm, lay a giant poplar spanning the
little brook. I stepped upon the log and stood there for a second. Here
was a natural retreat. If I had wanted to hide, this spot was what I
should have chosen. The boughs of the fallen tree, mingling with the
copse, made a complete hiding-place.
The more I looked, the more the spot seemed to bind me. I began to
wonder. Surely this was not my first sight of this spot. Had I crossed
here in the morning? No; we had moved forward much to the right. What
was the secret of the influence which the spot held over me? I had seen
it before or I had dreamed of it. I was greatly puzzled.
On the ground lay the broken parts of a rust-eaten musket. I picked up
the barrel; it was bent; I threw it down and picked up the stock. Why
should I be interested in this broken gun? I knew not, but I knew that I
was drawn in some way by it. On the stock were carved the letters J.B.
Who had owned this gun? John Brown? James Butler? Then the thought came
suddenly--why not Jones Berwick? No! That was absurd! But why absurd?
Did I know who I was, or where I had been, or where I had not been?
A shot and then another rang out in the woods at my left; I dropped the
gun and ran.
I soon overtook Company H retiring slowly through the woods. And now we
made a stand, as the brigade was in supporting distance. Our position
was perhaps three hundred yards in front of the brigade, which was
posted behind the old railroad. Thick woods were all around us. Soon the
blue skirmishers came in sight, and we began firing. The Federals sprang
at once to trees and began popping away at us. The range was close.
Grant was mortally hit. My group of four on that day was reduced to one
man. Goettee fell, and Godley. We kept up the fight. But now a blue line
of battle could be seen advancing behind the skirmishers. They kept
coming, reserving their fire until they should pass beyond their
skirmish-line. We should have withdrawn at once, but waited until the
line of battle had reached the skirmishers before we were ordered to
fall back. When we began to retire, the line of battle opened upon us,
and we lost some men.
Company H formed in its place on the left of the First, which was now
the left regiment of the brigade, of the division, and of the corps.
Company H was in the air at the left of Jackson's line.
General Lee had planned to place Jackson's corps in rear of Pope's army,
without severing communication with Longstreet; but the developments of
the campaign had thrown Jackson between Pope and Washington while yet
the corps of Longstreet was two days' march behind, and beyond the Bull
Run mountains. Pope had made dispositions to crush Jackson; to delay
Longstreet he occupied with a division Thoroughfare Gap,--through which
Jackson had marched and I had straggled on the 26th,--and with his
other divisions had marched on Manassas. Jackson had thus been forced to
retreat toward the north in order to gain time. When Hill's division
reached Centreville, it turned west, as already related, and while Pope
was marching on Centreville Jackson was marching to get nearer
Longstreet. This placed Ricketts's division of Pope's army, which had
occupied Thoroughfare Gap for the purpose of preventing the passage of
Longstreet, between Longstreet and Jackson. Ricketts was thus forced to
yield the gap after having delayed Longstreet during the night of the
28th. Pope could now have retired to Washington without a battle, but he
decided to overwhelm Jackson before Longstreet could reach the field,
and attacked hotly on the Confederate left.
The battle of Friday, the 29th of August, was fought then in consequence
of the double motive already hinted at, namely, that of Pope to
overwhelm Jackson, and of Jackson to resist and hold Pope until
Longstreet came. Jackson's manoeuvres had brought him within six hours'
march of Longstreet, and while Jackson's men were dying in the woods,
Longstreet's iron men, covered with dust and sweat, were marching with
rapid and long strides to the sound of battle in their front, where,
upon their comrades at bay, Pope was throwing division after division
into the fight.
Upon the left of Company H was a small open field, enclosed by a rail
fence; the part of the field nearest us was unplanted; the far side of
the field--that nearest the enemy--was in corn. The left of our line did
not extend quite to the fence, but at some times in the battle we were
forced to gather at the fence and fire upon the Federals advancing
through the field to turn our left.
Company H had hardly formed in its position upon the extreme left before
the shouts of the Federal line of battle told of their coming straight
through the woods upon us. They reached the undergrowth which bordered
the farther side of the railroad way. The orders of their officers
could be heard. We lay in the open woods, each man behind a tree as far
as was possible; but the trees were too few. The dense bushes, which had
grown up in the edge of the railroad way, effectually concealed the
enemy. We were hoping for them to come on and get into view, but they
remained in the bushes and poured volley after volley into our ranks. We
returned their fire as well as we could, but knew that many of our shots
would be wasted, as we could rarely have definite aim, except at the
line of smoke in the thick bushes.
Now the firing ceased, and we thought that the enemy had retired; but if
they had done so, it was only to give place to a fresh body of troops,
which opened upon us a new and terrific fire. We had nothing to do but
to endure and fire into the bushes. If our line had attempted to cross
the railroad, not one of us would have reached it; the Federals also
were afraid to advance.
Again there came a lull in the fight, but, as before, it was only
premonitory of another tempest of balls. How many attacks we stood that
day nobody on our side clearly knew. Again the Federal lines gave way,
or were relieved. Our line still held. The woods were thick with dead.
Comstock was dead. Bail was dead. Bee and Box were dead. Joe Bellot was
fearfully wounded. Many had been carried to the rear, and many yet lay
bleeding in our ranks, waiting to be taken out when the fight ceased.
Each man lay behind the best tree he could get; the trees had become
more plentiful. We fired lying, kneeling, standing, sometimes running;
but the line held. If we had had but the smallest breastwork!--but
we had none.
In the afternoon the Federals tried more than once to throw a force
around our left--through the open field; but each time they were driven
back by our oblique fire, helped by a battery which we could not see,
somewhere in our rear. I now suppose that before this time Longstreet
had formed on Jackson's right; the sounds of great fighting came from
the east and southeast.
We had resisted long enough. Our cartridges were gone, although our
boxes had more than once been replenished, and we had used up the
cartridges of our wounded and dead.
Just before the sun went down, the woods suddenly became alive with
Yankees. A deafening volley was poured upon our weakened ranks,--no
longer ranks, but mere clusters of men,--but the shots went high; before
the smoke lifted, the blue men were upon us; they had not waited
to reload.
Many of our men had not a cartridge, but the enemy were so near that
every shot told.
Their line is thinned; they come still, but in disconnected groups; they
are almost in our midst; straight toward me comes a towering man--his
sleeves show the stripes of a sergeant. His great form and his long red
hair are not more conspicuous than the vigour of his bearing. He makes
no pause. He strikes right and left. Men fall away from him. Our group
is scattering, some to gain time to load, others in flight. The great
sergeant rushes toward me; his gun rises again in his mighty hands, and
the blow descends. I slip aside; the force of the blow almost carries
him to the ground, but he recovers; he comes again; again he swings his
gun back over his shoulder, his eyes fixed upon my head where he will
strike. I raise my gun above my head--at the parry. Suddenly his
expression yields--a look as if of astonishment succeeds to fixed
determination--and at the same instant his countenance passes through an
indescribable change as the blood spouts from his forehead and he falls
lifeless at my feet, slain by a shot from my rear[7].
[7] The attack at sunset described by Mr. Berwick was made by Grover's
brigade, of Hooker's division, and succeeded in driving back Gregg's
worn-out men, who were at once relieved by Early's brigade of Ewell's
division. [ED.]
Confusion is everywhere. Ones, twos, groups, are beginning to flee from
either side. Here and there a small body of men yet hold fast and
fight. The shouting is more than the firing. At my right I see our flag,
and near it a flag of the Federals.
In a moment comes a new line of the enemy; our ranks--what is left of
them--must yield. We begin to run. I hear Dominic
Spellman--colour-bearer of the First--cry out, "Jones, for God's sake,
stop!" I turn. A few have rallied and are bringing out the flag. Our
line is gone--broken--and Jackson's left is crumbling away. Defeat is
here--in a handbreadth of us--and Pope's star will shine the brightest
over America; but now from our rear a Confederate yell rises high and
shrill through the bullet-scarred forest, and a fresh brigade advances
at the charge, relieves the vanquished troops of Gregg, and rolls far
back the Federal tide of war. It was none too soon.
On the morning of the 29th of August thirty-one men had answered
roll-call in Company H. On the morning of the 30th but thirteen
responded; we had lost none as prisoners.
The 30th was Saturday. The division was to have remained in reserve. We
were yet lying in the woods, some hundreds of yards in the rear of our
position of the 29th, and details were burying our dead, when we were
ordered to form. We marched some distance to the left. A low
grass-covered meadow was in our front, with a rail fence at the woods
about three hundred yards from us. Bullets came amongst us from the
fence at the woods, toward which we were marching in column of fours,
right in front. I heard the order from Major McCrady--"_Battalion--by
companies_!" and Haskell repeated--"_Company H_!"--then McCrady--"_On
the right--by file--into line--MARCH_!" This manoeuvre brought the
regiment into column of companies still marching in its former
direction, Company H being the rear of all.
Again I heard McCrady--"_Battalion--by companies_!" and Haskell
again--"_Company H_!"--then McCrady--"_Left--half wheel_!" and
Haskell--"_Left wheel_!"--then McCrady--"_Forward into line_," and both
voices--"_Double-quick_--MARCH!"
It was a beautiful manoeuvre, performed as it was under a close fire and
by men battle-sick and void of vanity. The respective companies executed
simultaneously their work, and as their graduated distances demanded,
rushed forward, with a speed constantly increasing toward the left
company, Company H, which wheeled and ran to place, forming at the fence
from which the enemy fled. We lost Major McCrady, who fell
severely wounded.
For the remainder of that bloody day the First was not engaged. We heard
the great battle between Lee and Pope, but took no further part.
On the first of September, as night was falling, we were lying under
fire, in a storm of rain, in the battle of Ox Hill, or Chantilly as the
Yankees call it. The regiment did not become engaged.
The campaign of eight days was over.