The Pursuit—Congratulatory Order—Fisher’s Hill—Gen.
Emory—Mount Jackson—Mount Crawford—Cedar Creek—Build
Breastworks—Surprise—Battle of Cedar Creek—Fall back to
Kearnstown—Martinsburg—Thanksgiving.
The battle was won, and now came the pursuit. Col. McCauley assumed
the command of the third brigade, which broke camp at daylight of
the 20th, and began the march up the Valley, reaching Strasburg in
the evening. The next day, congratulatory orders from the President
and Gen. Grant were read to the troops; and in the afternoon,
the regiment changed camp, and took a new position on the hills
overlooking Strasburg. The enemy were strongly entrenched on Fisher’s
hill, in a position considered almost impregnable; but they were
not allowed to remain in undisturbed possession long. At daylight,
on the 22d, the Nineteenth Corps moved up in front, and constructed
breastworks, driving in the rebel skirmishers from their rifle-pits.
The Eighth Corps, passing up the north side of the mountain, took the
enemy completely by surprise, while the Nineteenth Corps charging
in front, in three lines of battle, cheered on by Sheridan, drove
them in confusion from their strongholds. It was near night, when the
rebels fled; and the pursuit was kept up till morning, when Woodstock
was reached.
In the heat of the pursuit, the advance forces were fired into by an
ambush, and one man instantly killed. Some confusion ensuing, Gen.
Emory rode up, and inquired what regiment it was. “Thirty Eighth,”
was the reply. “Just the regiment I want,” said the old veteran; and
he immediately formed the regiment in line of battle across the pike.
Soon after, it was sent forward to skirmish, and marched in that
manner during the night, reaching Woodstock in the morning, and
remained there till noon. Continuing the march, the brigade went
into camp at night beyond the beautiful little town of Edenburg. The
next day’s march (in column by brigade) was a fatiguing one, the
Nineteenth Corps being obliged to make a flank movement at Mount
Jackson, to drive the rebels from a thickly wooded hill beyond the
Shenandoah River; and upon going into camp beyond Newmarket, the
rear-guard of the retreating enemy was in sight.
On Sunday, 25th, the brigade reached Harrisonburg, which was then
full of wounded rebels, and remained quietly in camp until the 29th,
when the Nineteenth Corps and one division of the Sixth Corps marched
to Mount Crawford to support a cavalry movement, the Thirty Eighth
acting as flankers, and being detailed at night as picket. The next
day, the entire force moved back to Harrisonburg, having destroyed a
great number of barns and mills.
During this march up the Valley, rations were often short, the
supply-trains not being able to keep up; and the army was obliged to
live partly on the country. The fine apples were especially prized
after the long abstinence from vegetables and fruit; and the premium
sheep afforded rich repasts to the hungry boys, who seldom stopped
to inquire whether they were of the long or short wool species.
Indeed, some of the city boys of the Thirty Eighth were not adepts
in agricultural matters, or one of them would not have approached a
“lord of the herd” with a coaxing “So, mooly; so, mooly,” his dipper
carefully concealed behind him.
Remaining at Harrisonburg until Oct. 6th, on that day the regiment
marched to Newmarket, making eighteen miles, and, on the day
following, had a still harder march of twenty-two miles. Still
falling back, on the 8th Flint Hill was reached, where there was
much suffering from the cold. On the 10th, after hearing orders from
Gen. Sheridan, announcing a large capture of artillery, wagons,
ambulances, and prisoners from Early, the army moved back to Cedar
Creek, and again constructed breastworks. An engagement took place
on the 14th, between a brigade of the Eighth Corps and a portion
of Early’s troops, in which the Thirty Fourth Massachusetts lost
heavily, Col. Wells, in command of the brigade, being killed.
On the evening of the 18th, the third brigade received orders to be
in readiness in the morning for a reconnoissance, and were in line
before daylight for that purpose, when a sudden crash of musketry on
the left, where the Eighth Corps were encamped, gave intimation of
an attack. The brigade was ordered to the breastworks immediately,
and men sent forward to the creek, at the base of the hill, to give
notice of the approach of the enemy. No attack was made in front;
but, on the left, having flanked the Eighth Corps, and driven it
back in confusion, the rebels fell upon the Nineteenth, of which
the third brigade of the second division was the extreme left, the
Thirty Eighth being on the right of the brigade. Exposed to a severe
cross-fire, the brigade-commander, Col. McCauley, being wounded, and
the victorious rebels sweeping all before them, the regiment fell
back, passed through the camp, and joined in the retreat. At this
time the battle seemed lost, and all the manœuvring in the Valley
for the past two months thrown away; but the enemy failed to follow
up his advantage promptly; and the Union army, recovering from the
confusion into which it had been thrown by the suddenness of the
attack, reformed its scattered ranks, and disputed the further
advance of the rebels, when the arrival of Gen. Sheridan on the
ground at noon, put a new face upon matters. The army was no longer
without a leader. A temporary breastwork of rails was thrown up,
behind which the rebel advance was awaited; and, as they drew near,
a terrific volley of musketry staggered and repulsed them. The
tide was turning. Riding over the field, showing himself to every
regiment, and everywhere received with enthusiasm, the presence of a
master-spirit was at once felt; and when the proper time came, and
the order was given to charge, the army advanced with a power that
crushed all resistance. The cavalry dashed into the broken ranks of
the fleeing enemy, capturing them by hundreds, while the infantry
pressed on eagerly toward the camps they had left in the morning.
In this final charge, for almost the first time in its history, the
regiment was in the second line of battle.
Back over the battle-ground where they had triumphed all day, over
the Union breastworks, and beyond Cedar Creek, in one confused mass,
the discomfited rebels fled, abandoning guns, wagons, rations,
and even the plunder of the Union camps; while the victors took
possession of their recovered quarters.
“Up from the south at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
“And wilder still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon’s bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
“But there is a road from Winchester town—
A good, broad highway leading down;
And there, through the flush of the morning light,
A steed, black as the steeds of night,
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight.
As if he knew the terrible need,
He stretched away with his utmost speed:
Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.
“Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon’s mouth,
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
With Sheridan only ten miles away.
“Under his spurning feet, the road,
Like a narrow Alpine river, flowed;
And the landscape sped away behind,
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire;
But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire,—
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.
“The first that the General saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops.
What was done—what to do—a glance told him both;
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dashed down the line ’mid a storm of huzzas,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril’s play,
He seemed to the whole great army to say:
‘I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester down to save the day!’
“Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!
Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky,—
The American soldier’s Temple of Fame,—
There, with the glorious General’s name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:
‘Here is the steed that saved the day,
By carrying Sheridan into the fight,
From Winchester,—twenty miles away!’”
The men had lost everything not on their persons,—clothing, blankets,
likenesses of friends, letters, journals of the two years’ service,
and mementos of the Louisiana campaigns; and, worse than all, over
thirty of their comrades were on their way to torture and starvation
in Salisbury or the Libby. Leaving the cavalry to pursue the flying
enemy, the infantry, cold and hungry, bivouacked for the night on
their old camp-grounds. In the morning, the army moved two miles
toward Strasburg, and remained there until the 21st, when the second
division returned to Cedar Creek.
Congratulatory orders from the President to Gen. Sheridan were read
to the troops on the 24th; and, on the 26th, the ever-welcome face
of the paymaster appeared in camp. The Cambridge companies were
gratified, on the 30th, by a visit from Mr. Wellington, who, as
usual, brought many articles for the comfort of the men. With the
exception of a corps review by Gens. Sheridan, Wright, Cook, and
Emory, on the 7th of November, nothing of importance transpired
until the 9th, when the army fell back to Kearnstown, and went
into quarters between that village and Winchester (Camp Russell),
where heavy breastworks were thrown up. The enemy had not yet left
the Valley. On the evening of the 10th, the wagons were packed in
anticipation of an attack; and there was lively skirmishing at
the front during the next day; but, the enemy did not appear in
force, and Powell’s cavalry by a bold dash, made a large capture of
prisoners and munitions of war.
Monday afternoon, Nov. 14, the regiment broke camp, and marched to
Winchester; and, on the following morning started for Martinsburg,
as guard to a supply-train, making the entire distance, twenty-two
miles, before night. Leaving Martinsburg on the 19th, the regiment
returned to camp near Winchester, and resumed camp duties.
The picket duty at Camp Russell was very severe, especially as
the weather grew cold. No fires were allowed at night; a vidette
was thrown out from every post; and, at daybreak, the picket-line
deployed, and remained so until sunrise. At the same time, every
regiment stood in line of battle behind the breastworks.
Thanksgiving Day, the regiment received a portion of the poultry sent
from the North for the soldiers; and, by clubbing together, nearly
all the messes had a tolerable soup. A real Thanksgiving, however,
arrived from Cambridge on the 27th; and then Cos. A, B, and F had
turkeys and chickens and puddings in abundance. If the kind friends
at home could have looked into those little tents at Camp Russell, at
that time, they would have considered themselves repaid for all their
trouble.