BATTLE OF WINCHESTER.
Encampment at Berryville--Leaving camp--The advance--Taking
position--Advance and retreat--Death of Russell--"I know they'll
run"--Reminiscences--At the hospitals--A regiment going
home--"Why don't he come."
The rebels were repulsed; but as our position at Charlestown was one
that might easily be flanked, our army fell back during the night to the
strong position at Halltown, where defensive works were thrown up, and
again we awaited the advance of the enemy; but except some skirmishing
on the left of the line, no attack was ventured by Early; and after two
or three days he withdrew to the vicinity of Winchester, and established
his line along the west bank of Opequan creek, so as to cover the three
roads leading from Martinsburgh, from Harper's Ferry and from Berryville
to Winchester. We followed and established our line on the east side of
the creek, and some miles from it, at Berryville.
Our encampment at Berryville was one of the most delightful of our
resting places, even in the Shenandoah Valley. We passed the days
pleasantly, strolling or riding among the groves of black walnut,
visiting among the various regiments, amusing ourselves with chess and
books. Nothing occurred to interrupt these pleasant pastimes and the
monotony of picket duty until the 13th of September, when the Second
division was directed to make a reconnoissance to the Opequan. We
marched to the creek very early in the morning, found the enemy in
force, lost a few men by the shells from the rebel batteries, and
returned to camp.
On the 15th our army was visited by Lieutenant-General Grant. The story
of his visit we give in his own words:
"I left City Point on the 15th to visit him (General Sheridan), at his
head-quarters, to decide, after conference with him, what should be
done. I met him at Charlestown, and he pointed out so distinctly how
each army lay; what he could do the moment he was authorized, and
expressed such confidence of success, that I saw there were but two
words of instruction necessary--_Go in!_ ... I may here add that the
result was such that I have never since deemed it necessary to visit
General Sheridan before giving him orders."
Thus the two armies lay face to face, with the stream and a narrow strip
of country between them, either able to bring on an engagement at any
time. The quiet was broken on the morning of the 19th, when we advanced
to win the first of that series of brilliant victories which startled
Europe and America; which gave to our little army an enviable renown
among the armies of the Union, and established the reputation of our
chief as one of the foremost generals of the age.
Early had taken the initiative. On Sunday the 18th, he had sent General
Gordon's division toward Martinsburgh, with orders to drive out the
Union forces, and destroy the government property. Gordon was met by
Averill's cavalry and driven back to Drakesville. Sheridan, discovering
the mistake made by Early in separating his forces, was quick to avail
himself of the advantage of his enemy's blunder. Orders were issued to
move at once, but, for some reason, several hours elapsed before the
army was ready.
We left our pleasant camps at Berryville, at two o'clock Monday morning,
the Sixth corps in advance, moving in two columns, one on either side of
the road, the ammunition wagons, artillery and ambulances taking the
pike. The Third brigade, Second division, led the infantry. The
Nineteenth corps followed the Sixth, marching in similar order, its
infantry in the fields and its artillery and wagons on the pike, while
Crook's Kanawha corps moved further to the south, with orders to connect
with the Sixth corps at Opequan creek. Two divisions of cavalry, under
Merritt and Averill, were directed to amuse the enemy near Bunker's
Hill, and draw the attention of the rebel generals in that direction as
much as possible. It was the design of General Sheridan thus to amuse
the enemy on the left while he should march his army up the Berryville
and Winchester pike, strike the right flank of Early's army, and by a
sudden and unexpected attack, to get in the rear and cut off the retreat
of the rebel forces. By one of those inexplicable mistakes, which
sometimes upset the plans of our generals, this design was not fully
realized, and had General Sheridan been less determined and less
dashing, he might have abandoned the idea of attacking Early at all.
At five o'clock Wilson's cavalry had crossed the creek before us, having
dispersed the pickets of the enemy, driving them back to their line of
field works, and then, by a dashing charge, had leaped their horses over
the breastworks of the first line of defenses, and routed the rebels,
capturing about fifty of their number.
Immediately after this gallant exploit of the cavalry, the Sixth corps
crossed the creek and advanced on the turnpike about a mile, where the
enemy was found in force. As we moved along, through the deep ravine,
following the pike, we were warned of the active work we might expect in
front, as we saw cavalrymen coming to the rear, some leading their
wounded horses, others with their heads bound in bloody handkerchiefs,
some with arms hanging in slings, others borne on litters. Here by the
roadside might be seen the prostrate, lifeless form of some soldier of
the Union; there, where a silvery brook babbled along across the pike,
on its grassy banks, and beneath the shadow of a large tree, was
gathered a little group of boys in blue, performing the last acts of
kindness to a comrade in whom the vital spark was almost extinguished,
and a surgeon bending over the dying soldier striving to render less
painful the few lingering moments of life.
We moved up a steep ascent and formed in line of battle in a cornfield;
the Third brigade on the left, the First in the center, and the
Vermonters on the right; then on the left of the Second division the
Third division got into position, and the First division came up in the
rear as reserve. Our artillery was brought into position and a vigorous
shelling commenced on both sides.
The Sixth corps was now ready for a charge upon the enemy, but it was
discovered that, by some misconception of orders, the Nineteenth corps,
which should have been on the ground, was left far behind. Orders were
dispatched to hasten it to the field of action, but two hours, precious
hours to that army, elapsed before it was in position.
Those two hours of delay enabled Early to strengthen his right; to throw
up strong earthworks, and bring Gordon's division on the run, to his
assistance. We had been fortunate only in seizing the position on the
west side of the stream, or the battle would, from this delay, have been
worse for us.
Merritt and Averill, by skillfully maneuvering their troops in front of
Bunker's Hill, had enabled us to seize this advantage.
The Nineteenth corps was formed on the right of the Sixth, in four lines
of battle; Wilson's cavalry was on our left. It was eleven o'clock when
the advance was sounded. In our front were undulating fields, traversed
by deep ravines, almost stripped of timber, except where the rebels had
formed their line of battle in a belt of woods that skirted the
turnpike. It was an imposing spectacle to watch that line of battle,
stretching three miles across the fields, as it moved toward the rebel
lines, the men as composed as though on parade, the line straight and
compact, the various division, brigade and regimental flags floating
gaily in the sunlight. Away in our front we could see Winchester; its
gleaming spires and shining roofs, bright with the warm glow of mid-day,
and we proudly felt that before night it would be ours. Onward, through
the cornfields and over the grassy knolls, now descending into a ravine
and now rising upon the open plain, where the rebel artillery swept with
terrible effect, the long line pressed forward, regardless of the
destructive fire that constantly thinned our ranks. At every step
forward, men were dropping, dropping; some dead, some mortally hurt, and
some with slight wounds. Now on this side, now on that they fell; still
the line swept forward, leaving the ground behind it covered with the
victims.
Thus we pushed onward, the rebels falling back, desperately disputing
every step, when a murderous fire, from batteries which the enemy had
skillfully placed, suddenly swept our right with fearful slaughter.
Thus far all had gone well. Now our hearts were sick as we looked far to
the right and saw the Nineteenth corps and our Third division falling
back, back, back, the grape and canister of the hostile cannon crashing
through the now disordered ranks, and the exulting rebels following with
wild yells of victory.
The retreat of the troops on the right of the Second division left its
flank, held by the Vermonters, exposed, and they, too, were forced to
fall behind the Third brigade, which still held its ground, the fire in
its front being at the moment less severe. Our batteries were rushed
forward, and the gallant First division, the noble Russell at its head,
came bravely up to the rescue.
As the noble soldier brought his division into position a cannon ball
swept him from his horse--dead. A great spirit had fallen, and in a
moment we were made an army of mourners. "I have lost my captain," said
Sheridan, as the work of the day closed.
We all remembered the modest, almost bashful, demeanor of the fallen
general among his friends, and his glorious heroism in the presence of
his enemies, and many tears moistened the brown cheeks of rough soldiers
as they thought of the loss of one of our best beloved leaders.
But, notwithstanding the loss of their hero, the brave division pushed
straight on. Nothing could withstand them; and now, joined by the other
troops of the corps, the boys with the red crosses press on, and as the
peals of musketry and artillery roll through those valleys, it tells of
victory for the Union. The lost ground is regained, and now the fire in
front of the Sixth corps slackens.
We rested, throwing ourselves on the ground, waiting for orders. Some of
the men, fatigued from the early march and severe morning's work, slept;
while others regaled themselves from their well filled haversacks; and
many gathered in groups to talk over the doings of the morning, and to
speak of those who had been stretched upon the sod, who had fallen with
their faces to the foe.
We were waiting for Crook's corps. It had halted on the eastern bank of
the river as reserve for the army. Now it was brought forward at quick
pace and placed, a part on the right of the Nineteenth corps, where the
rebels could be seen massing troops on their left, with a view of
turning our right flank, the other part in rear of the Nineteenth corps.
Averill and Merritt, too, were with the army, and our whole force was
together. It was nearly three o'clock when Crook's forces were brought
into position. His right was in a thick forest, and against him were
heavy columns of rebels.
At length we, of the Sixth corps, heard rapid firing away on the right
of the forest. All was attention. Every man stood to his arms ready to
advance. Sheridan came to our part of the line. His face all aglow with
excitement, the perspiration rolling down his forehead, his famous black
steed spotted with white foam, a single orderly at his back. He rode
straight to General Getty, exclaiming, "General, I have put Torbert on
the right, and told him to give 'em h--l, and he is doing it. Crook,
too, is on the right and giving it to them. Press them, General, they'll
run!" and then, using one of those phrases sometimes employed in the
army to give additional force to language, he shouted again, "_Press
them, General, I know they'll run!_" And then the shout that went up
from the men drowned all the other noise of the battle.
We did press them, and they did run. Over the long stretch of open
plain, down into the deep hollow, up again and over the rolling ground,
past the white farm house, on we went. The rebels would run, then
reaching a commanding position, they would turn their artillery upon us
and sweep our line with iron hail. On our left was Wilson, with the
cavalry charging through the growing corn, the sabres gleaming in the
sunlight, the iron scabbards clanging against iron spurs, the horses
dashing madly forward in seeming disorder, but all rushing, like an
avalanche, against the right wing of the enemy. Now the retreat became a
rout. The cheers of the Union boys rose strong and clear above the roar
of artillery and the harsh rattle of musketry, and Early's scattered and
demoralized divisions were rushing through Winchester in consternation
and unutterable confusion. Frightened teamsters were lashing their
animals through the streets in greatest alarm; riderless horses were
galloping here and there, and pack mules were on a general stampede.
Some streets became entirely blocked up by the disordered mass, and even
footmen could not press through; a squad of cavalry coming to one of
these obstructions leaped from their horses and made their escape on
foot. Our cavalry, taking advantage of the confusion, rushed among the
panic stricken fugitives and gathered hundreds of them; captured fifteen
battle-flags and five guns.
The remnants of the rebel army collected some miles beyond the town, and
reformed; but after a short rest made haste to get farther up the
valley. As we advanced we found the mountains full of fugitives, and in
the town were thousands of their wounded.
The infantry halted upon the high grounds at the borders of the town,
leaving the cavalry to follow up the pursuit of the flying foe; and as
Generals Sheridan, Wright, Emory and Crook rode along our front, we made
the welkin ring with lusty cheers. Glorious leaders of a victorious
army!
At our feet was Winchester, the scene of Washington's early military
experience. Here he was stationed during the French war, and shared in
the perilous sentinelship of the frontier. For then the valley was
ravaged by French and Indians, and fearful massacres were of frequent
occurrence; and when Washington demanded of Governor Dinwiddie
reinforcements, and was refused, he offered to resign; and when the
governor could not allow him to resign he sent him men.
Here, on the ground occupied by the Seventy-seventh New York regiment,
near the ruins of an old church, was the grave of General Daniel Morgan,
the hero of Quebec and Saratoga, the friend of Washington. A plain
marble tablet, broken across, now covered the grave, with a simple
inscription, his name and the date of his death, 1802.
In the cemetery, still north, we saw, as we passed, the resting place of
Thomas, Earl of Fairfax; a great tory in his day, and the owner of
immense tracts of land in this part of Virginia, and from whom Fairfax
county took its name.
The sun had sunk to his golden rest behind the wall of hills on our left
when we arrived at the outskirts of Winchester; and, as darkness set in,
the infantry of our victorious army stretched themselves upon the ground
to sleep. It had been a hard day's work, and the men were faint. It
required no unusual inducements to woo the angel of sleep.
If the day had been an active one on the field, it had been no less so
in the hospitals. First, early in the morning, came ambulance loads of
men with white crosses; they were from the Third brigade, Second
division, all from the Seventy-seventh New York. Then came others from
the Forty-ninth New York, from the Seventh Maine, and from the One
Hundred and Twenty-second and Forty-third New York. Then came men from
the Vermont brigade, and from our First brigade, and soon the hospitals
of the Third division began to be filled. Then, last of all, came the
men of the red crosses, bleeding and mangled. Surgeons worked all day
and all night. There was no rest as long as a wounded man was uncared
for. Yet, when morning came, and the medical officers were ordered
forward with the army, there was much to do, and faithful men were left
to finish the needful task. Next morning Winchester was full of rebel
wounded and rebel prisoners. Five thousand men in gray were under guard
in the court house yard and other public places, and Colonel Edwards'
brigade of the First division was left to take care of the prisoners and
the town. Many brave men had fallen. Russell was gone; the gallant Upton
was wounded; Colonel Elright, of the Third division, was dead, and many,
many brave boys were lying with their blackened faces to the sun, a slip
of paper or a letter envelope pinned to the breast of each to tell the
buriers his name and regiment.
[Illustration: "WHY DON'T HE COME?"]
The term of service of one of our regiments, the Fourth Vermont, had
expired, and on the day after the battle the small remnant of the
regiment, a company of about forty men, under command of Colonel Foster,
started for Harper's Ferry, on their return home. They had suffered
heavily, and they left many of their brave comrades dead upon the
battle-field, or suffering in the hospitals. How had those noble boys,
whose lives had, at the very expiration of their three years of toil,
danger and privations, been given for their country, rejoiced at the
prospect of a speedy reunion with the loved ones at home. How had they
written, even the day before the battle, "we are going home!" and then
how had the loving ones, away among the beautiful green hills of
Vermont, exulted at the thought that now, after three long years of
suspense and anxiety, the danger and toil were over. And we can picture
to our thoughts the mother who watches with eager interest the smoking
train as it dashes along at the base of the old hills, wondering if her
patriot son will not come to-day; but instead, a letter comes with the
heavy news, a great battle has been fought and her son lies in the
Valley; or, on the banks of the sunny Champlain, some young sister or
lover gazes from the window of the cottage among the trees, at the
steamer as it glides over the surface of the beautiful lake and touches
at the wharf near by. But her soldier boy is not on board, and she
watches in vain to see his familiar form coming toward the cottage. She
sadly leans her head upon her hand and sighs, "Why don't he come?"