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- Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
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Seitenzahl: 564
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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FOUR YEARS IN THE STONEWALL BRIGADE (ILLUSTRATED)
John Casler
LACONIA PUBLISHERS
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Copyright © 2016 by John Casler
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOUR YEARS
PREFACE.
DEDICATORY.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXVI.
XXVII.
XXVIII.
XXIX.
XXX.
XXXI.
XXXII.
XXXIII.
APPENDIX.: A DARING AND FAMOUS RAID.
AMERICANS.
CAPTURE OF GENERALS CROOK AND KELLEY. BY THE McNEIL RANGERS. BY JOHN B. FAY.
LAST WORDS OF STONEWALL JACKSON.
THE HOMESPUN DRESS.
APPOMATTOX.
HISTORY OF THE STONEWALL JACKSON BRIGADE MEDAL.
AN INTERESTING INCIDENT.
FOUR YEARS
IN THE
STONEWALL BRIGADE
BY
JOHN O. CASLER
Ex-Commander Oklahoma Division United Confederate Veterans,
Private Company A, 33d Regiment Virginia Infantry,
Stonewall Brigade, 1st Division, 2d Corps, Army
of Northern Virginia, Gen. Robert E. Lee, Commanding.
Containing the daily experiences of four years’ service in the ranks from diary kept at the time—A truthful record of the battles and skirmishes, advances, retreats and maneuvers of the army—Of incidents as they occurred on the march, in the field, in bivouac and in battle, on the scout, in hospital and prison—Replete with thrilling adventures and hair-breadth escapes.
PREFACE.
THE DEMAND FOR “FOUR YEARS in the Stonewall Brigade” has led to a re-issue, in a cheaper form, but as several years have elapsed since the first edition made its appearance, the author considered that extensive alterations and improvements would be necessary before its re-publication. It has, therefore, been carefully revised, and, though the salient points of the history have been left untouched, several new chapters, and more and better illustrations have been added in order to make it a more complete history, which will be read by future generations.
The Author.
DEDICATORY.
THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED to the boys who wore the Gray and the boys who wore the Blue, and who fought and suffered for what they conceived to be right.
No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of the dead;
Under the sod and dew,
Waiting the judgment day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.
—The Author.
I.
IT IS NOT THE PURPOSE of the writer, in giving the events that happened in the four years’ struggle between the North and South, to enter into a detailed account of the causes that led up to the war.
These are matters of history, and have gone upon record, according to the prejudices and passions of the contending parties; or they have been given from the different points from which men viewed them.
When the Mason and Dixon line was first blazed out the country was divided into two powerful, distinct and widely diverging factions, differing radically in the policy of the government and financial interests, and these of such magnitude that the casual observer will understand at once they must not only lead to a disruption of the government, but to war and bloodshed.
From that very hour the two factions began forming their ranks for the final conflict; the coming was as fixed as fate itself.
Nor did either think of grounding their arms. True, one was aggressive and the other defensive. But if the aggression was persistent, the defense was determined. In both the North and the South the worst passions of men were appealed to, and in the name of patriotism each was called upon to stand for their homes, their firesides and their country. South of the Mason and Dixon line were the homes and firesides of the Southerner, and north of it the homes of their former Northern brethren.
True, there was a large element, both North and South, whose patriotism arose above sectional lines, and who looked with dark forebodings upon the coming conflict, and who were ready to interpose in behalf of peace and good government, and whose love of country reached beyond the sectional strife that was raging.
But in the great whirl of passion and prejudice their efforts proved in vain; their voices hushed, and they found themselves powerless to avert the inevitable. The die had been cast; the line drawn; the decree had gone forth, and no mortal hand could stay the tempest or arrest the calamity.
And when, at last, the crash came, even the conservative element had nothing to do but to drop into line, according to their feelings or mutual interests.
There was no half-way ground to occupy; war knows nothing but decision, and if one could not decide for himself there was a fate to decide for him.
“He that is not for me is against me” is an inexorable decree of battle, and to that decree men were compelled to bow, whether they would or not. Thus, as the mighty avalanche, or the terrible cyclone, were they swept on.
America was young, and filled with younger sons, sons each of whom felt himself a king. With him to be an American was to be a freeman, and he stood proudly upon his royal rights; to dare to trample upon these inherent privileges was an insult to his honor, to his Americanism. The fires of seventy-six were rekindled into a blazing, burning flame, as each pictured to himself the long catalogue of grievances.
The cannon of 1812 echoed and re-echoed over the plains of South Carolina, while the defiant tones were hurled back from the mountains of New Hampshire, rousing the young blood of the sons of New England.
The young men, full of martial fire, pictured the American flag borne, with proud, victorious arms, into the very halls of the Montezumas, showing that our arms had been victorious on every battle-field; that never had we crossed swords with any foe but that victory had followed.
The American eagle, proud, victorious bird, belonged to each, and each felt called upon to see that that bird soared unfettered in the clear, bright sunlight of heaven.
Each thought himself the special guardian of freedom and the protector of American liberty. None stopped to ponder the old adage, “When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.”
With such a spirit animating each heart, it was not surprising that, when the bugle sounded to arms, from the prairies of Texas to the cotton and rice fields of South Carolina, and the blue-tinged hills of the Old Dominion, men sprang to arms by the thousands, eager for the battle to begin. If the Southerner felt his arm strengthened and nerved for the conflict, the Northern son as confidently rushed to the front at his country’s call.
The muttering thunders of war rolled over the vast sweep of country from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and was echoed back from the Gulf to the Lakes.
The hour for calm, sober reflection had passed; no time to reason now, but from hilltop to valley echoed the tramp of war, till a nation trembled beneath the tread of armies.
As the drunken, frenzied rabble rolls on, moved by they know not what, so the gathering hosts shouted, “To arms! To arms!”
From the time of the election of Abraham Lincoln in November, 1860, until the conflict actually began, the whole country was thrown into a fever of excitement, and this was increased in intensity with every floating breeze. One startling event followed another in quick succession; reason was dethroned, and the great whirlwind of passion and prejudice swept the whole land, kindling the fires of conflict in all the States.
On the 20th of December, 1860, the Legislature of South Carolina unanimously declared that that State no longer belonged to the American Union. In January, 1861, Florida withdrew, followed by Mississippi on the 9th of the same month, Alabama on the 11th, Georgia on the 20th, Louisiana on the 26th, and Texas on February 1st. Thus, in less than three months from the time of the election of Abraham Lincoln to the Presidency, all the cotton states, proper, had, by a unanimous vote, withdrawn from the Union, and had taken possession of all the Federal fortifications except those in Charleston harbor.
While the sympathies of the people of Virginia were overwhelmingly with the South, yet her condition, adjacent as she was to the border of the Free States, made her hesitate before she took a decided stand. She even tried to throw herself into the breach, and, if possible, heal up the differences and wounds of the past, and thus avert the terrors of war. But her effort was not only in vain, but futile. The storm had already gathered; the dark clouds of passion and hatred had already formed, and each hurled black defiance at the other.
The two volcanoes, one at the South and the other at the North, whose pent-up fires had been hissing and struggling to break loose from their smothered furies, were now belching forth fire and flame, and the burning lava rolling on but mocked the feeble efforts of the Middle States for peace.
Hot blood was up, and the furies were all turned loose, and an inexorable fate led them on. What Virginia could not settle for herself was soon settled for her, and she was compelled, whether she would or not, to action.
II.
I WAS BORN IN GAINSBORO, Frederick County, Virginia, nine miles northwest of Winchester, on the first day of December, 1838. My mother’s maiden name was Heironimus, an old family of that county, dating back of the Revolutionary war. When I was three years old my father removed to Springfield, Hampshire County (in what is now West Virginia), an adjoining county, where I spent my boyhood days as most other boys do, in learning a trade and going to school, where I received a fair English education for those days.”
In March, 1859, when I was in my 21st year, I cut loose from the parental roof and took Horace Greeley’s advice to “Go West and grow up with the country.” I landed in Cass County, Missouri, in which state I remained, living in different counties, until the spring of 1861, when the signs of the times indicated war, and I concluded to go back to old Virginia. I left Sedalia, Mo., the 8th day of April, 1861, and returned to Frederick County, Virginia, where my father was engaged in farming, having moved back to that county during my absence.
After leaving Sedalia I went to St. Louis, and there got on board a steamboat bound for Pittsburg, Pa. After passing Cairo, Ill., we heard of the firing on Fort Sumter, and saw bills posted at the different towns we passed calling for 75,000 troops for ninety days to protect Washington and put down the rebellion. Then we knew that war had commenced.
Various opinions were indulged in by the passengers, some saying that the North did not need that many troops, and that it would all be settled in less than ninety days. But, alas! vain hope! How little we knew of the struggle that was before us. I parted with my fellow passengers at Parkersburg, W. Va. Some were going into the Union army, and some of us into the Southern army.
I arrived at home and remained there a short time. At that time the Governor of Virginia was calling for volunteers. There had been a company raised at Springfield, my native town, and they were in service and camped at Blue’s Gap, fifteen miles east of Romney, on the road leading to Winchester. As I had but fifteen miles to go to reach them, I bade farewell to my parents and sisters and went to the company, and arrived that evening in camp.
I met old schoolmates and acquaintances whom I had parted from two years before in the school room, and now found them in arms. I signed my name to the muster-roll, put on the uniform of gray, and was mustered into service for one year. The name of the company was “Potomac Guards,” Captain P. T. Grace, commanding; S. D. Long, First Lieutenant; Jacob N. Buzzard, Second Lieutenant; William Johnson, Third Lieutenant. There was another company camped at that place, the “Hampshire Riflemen,” Captain George Sheetz. They were doing picket duty, not having yet been assigned to any regiment.
The next morning, which was the 19th of June, we were ordered to fall in, and marched to Romney. The day was hot and the road dusty, and marching went quite hard with us, especially myself, who had never marched a day in my life; but I kept in ranks, for, “Who would not a soldier be, and with the soldiers march?” Arriving in Romney about 3 p. m., we quartered in an old building, took a good wash, had some refreshments, and felt like soldiers indeed, with our clothes covered with brass buttons and the ladies smiling at us and cheering us on.
In the early part of June Colonel A. C. Cummings, who had seen service in the Mexican war, and whose home was at Abington, Va., was commissioned Colonel by the Governor of Virginia, and sent from Harper’s Ferry to Romney to collect together the different companies organizing in that and adjacent counties and form a regiment. He had been there but a few days, and had three companies—the Potomac Guards, from Springfield; the Hampshire Riflemen, from New Creek, and the Independent Greys, from Moorefield, Hardy County. The Riflemen were organized before the war, and were well equipped. The other two companies came there with nothing but their uniforms, but were given old, altered muskets and old flintlock rifles that had been sent there from Harper’s Ferry, and two four-pound cannon that had been sent there during the John Brown raid, but had no one to use them. They had a few rounds of ammunition in their coat pockets; no tents, cartridge boxes, or any other equipment.
In order that the reader may more fully understand the organization of the Southern army, I will explain:
The maximum number of a company was one hundred men, commanded by a Captain and three Lieutenants, commissioned officers; then there were Sergeants and Corporals, non-commissioned officers, appointed by the Captain.
A regiment was composed of ten companies, making one thousand men. Sometimes there were less, and often a regiment was reduced to two or three hundred able for service,
The field officers of a regiment were a Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel and Major. Two or more regiments composed a brigade, generally four or five regiments—sometimes more, sometimes less, according to circumstances—and commanded by a Brigadier General.
Two or more brigades (generally four) composed a division, commanded by a Major General; two or more divisions (generally three) composed an army corps, commanded by a Lieutenant General, who was styled a full General. General R. E. Lee ranked as such. There were five full Generals in the Southern army.
Several companies banded together—less than ten—was called a battalion, and commanded by a Major. Two companies of cavalry formed a squadron. A company of artillery had four or six cannon, generally four, and one piece was called a section; going into action and unlimbering ready for business was called going into battery.
The Federals were camped at New Creek, about twenty miles from Romney, and sent a regiment over one morning to capture the whole outfit, and they would have succeeded had it not been for a citizen on the road coming a near way and giving the Colonel warning. The consequence was the Colonel beat a hasty retreat, taking everything with him.
Talk about your first big battles of the war, that was one of them. There were about a dozen shots exchanged, no one hurt and no one captured, the Southern boys pulling out for Winchester and the Federals coming into town. They remained about an hour, and then went back to New Creek—both armies marching from each other all day. As a result, three regiments under Colonel A. P. Hill were sent there from Harper’s Ferry: the 10th Virginia, 13th Virginia, and 3d Tennessee.
When our companies arrived we found those regiments there. Our three companies were then formed into a battalion and put in command of Major William Lee, and called Lee’s Battalion—Colonel Cummings going back to Winchester to recruit more companies.
We remained there until the 24th, expecting an attack every night, and consequently had plenty of false alarms. We then marched back to Winchester, a distance of forty-five miles, leaving some cavalry there under command of Captain Turner Ashby.
As we marched out of town the brass bands were playing, the drums beating, colors flying, and the fair ladies waving their handkerchiefs and cheering us on to “victory or death.” Oh! how nice to be a soldier!
On the 27th we went into camp on Opequon creek, three miles south of Winchester, remaining several days, cleaning arms, drilling, etc. Our next move was to the Shawnee Springs, in the suburbs of Winchester, where we were temporarily attached to General Elzey’s Brigade. The Hampshire Riflemen, not numbering enough (only forty-five) to be mustered in, were transferred to the cavalry and ordered back to Romney to recruit and get horses. How I wished then that I had joined that company, and could have done so only a short time before, but my name was down on the roll, and there was no chance to get it off honorably. I therefore had to remain in the infantry.
General Elzey was quite fond of a dram, as most soldiers are, and one night when he and his staff were drinking quite freely, and feeling very liberal, he called in the sentinel who was on guard at his quarters and gave him a drink, and then went to bed. Now, when this same sentinel was on post again, about daylight, he put his head in the tent door, and, finding the General still asleep, woke him up by exclaiming: “General! General! ain’t it about time for us to take another drink?”
The General roused up, and, not being in as merry a mood as the night before, ordered him to be taken off to the guardhouse for his insolence.
That soldier was greeted for months afterwards by the whole command by, “General, General, ain’t it about time for us to take another drink?”
The Federal General Patterson had crossed the Potomac with a considerable force. Our army, under General Joseph E. Johnston, had evacuated Harper’s Ferry, and the two armies were close together below Martinsburg. One day our advance had a considerable skirmish with the enemy and captured forty-five prisoners, and then fell back south of town to Darksville, where our whole force lay in line of battle. They were the first prisoners I had seen. As we were ordered to tear down all fences, it looked like a battle was imminent. We lay in line the next day, which was the 4th of July, but still no fight, and on the 5th we returned to Winchester and went into camp at the “Shawnee Springs.”
The boys were all mad because we had had no fight, and accused General Johnston of being a coward, but they soon found out that he knew his business, and that a braver man never lived. After remaining in this camp three days our battalion was ordered to report to Colonel Cummings, one mile south of Winchester, where we found he had collected five more companies, viz.: Page Grays, Captain Rippetoe; Shenandoah Riflemen, Captain Gatewood; Emerald Guards, Captain Sibert (nearly all Irishmen); Mount Jack son Rifles, Captain Allen, and Brook Company, Captain Crabill.
We remained in this camp several days, and received our equipments from Springfield, as our company was equipped by private subscription, and they were not ready when we left. Our equipments consisted of knapsacks, blankets, cartridge boxes, canteens and tents.
We had all started out with a carpet sack full of “store clothes, biled shirts and paper collars,” but we loaded them in the wagon and sent them home. We soon found out that we had no use for “store clothes and biled shirts.”
On the 15th of July our regiment was marched one mile north of Winchester and permanently attached to General T. J. Jackson’s Brigade, consisting of the 2d, 4th, 5th and 27th Virginia Regiments. Ours, not being full yet, was not numbered, but called Colonel Cummings’ Regiment.
On the 16th, the report being that General Patterson was advancing on Winchester, we were rushed out in line of battle, tore down all the fences, and lay on our arms ready for action at a moment’s warning. The next day passed off in the same way, but no enemy appeared, and we returned to camp and lay quiet.
Another new company comes to our regiment, the “Shenandoah Sharpshooters,” Captain David Walton. They have no arms and are given flintlock muskets. We are now ordered to cook rations and be ready to march at a moment’s warning. Our regiment now has eight companies, and numbers about 650 men; but the measles have been raging in camp and about 200 are sent to the hospital, being unable to march.
July 18th we marched through Winchester and took the road leading to Berry’s Ferry, on the Shenandoah river, about eighteen miles distant. The citizens were very much grieved to see us leave, for fear the enemy would be in town, as there were no troops left but a few militia and Colonel Turner Ashby’s cavalry.
After marching a few miles we were halted, and the Adjutant read us orders that the enemy were about to overpower General Beauregard at Manassas Junction, and we would have to make a forced march. It was General Johnston’s wish that all the men would keep in ranks and not straggle, if possible. Then we started on a quick march, marched all day and nearly all night, wading the Shenandoah river about 12 o’clock at night, halted at a small village called Paris about two hours, then resumed the march about daylight, and arrived at Piedmont Station, on the Manassas Gap railroad.
Our brigade was in the advance on the march, and when we arrived at the station the citizens for miles around came flocking in to see us, bringing us eatables of all kinds, and we fared sumptuously. There were not trains enough to transport all at once, and our regiment had to remain there until trains returned, which was about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. We had a regular picnic; plenty to eat, lemonade to drink, and beautiful young ladies to chat with. We finally got aboard, bade the ladies a long farewell, and went flying down the road, arriving at the Junction in the night.
The next day, the 20th of July, we marched about four miles down Bull Run, to where General Beauregard had engaged the enemy on the 18th, and repulsed their advance. There we joined the brigade. We lay on our arms all night. We tore all the feathers out of our hats, because we heard the Yanks had feathers in theirs, and we might be fired on by mistake, as our company was the only one that had black plumes in their hats. We could hear pickets firing at intervals, and did not know what minute we would be rushed into action.
My particular friend and messmate, William I. Blue, and myself lay down together, throwing a blanket over us, and talked concerning our probable fate the next day. We had been in line of battle several times, and had heard many false alarms, but we all knew there was no false alarm this time; that the two armies lay facing each other, and that a big battle would be fought the next day; that we were on the eve of experiencing the realities of war in its most horrible form—brother against brother, father against son, kindred against kindred, and our own country torn to pieces by civil war.
While lying thus, being nearly asleep, he roused me up and said that he wanted to make a bargain with me, which was, if either of us got killed the next day the one who survived should see the other buried, if we kept possession of the battle-field.
I told him I would certainly do that, and we pledged ourselves accordingly. I then remarked that perhaps we would escape unhurt or wounded. He said: “No, I don’t want to be wounded. If I am shot at all I want to be shot right through the heart.”
During the night we heard a gun fired on the left of the regiment and I got up and walked down the line to see what had happened. I found one of the men had shot himself through the foot, supposed to have been done intentionally, to keep out of the fight, but the poor fellow made a miscalculation as to where his toes were, and held the muzzle of the gun too far up and blew off about half of his foot, so it had to be amputated.
III.
JULY 21ST DAWNED CLEAR AND bright (and for the last time on many a poor soldier), and with it the sharpshooters in front commenced skirmishing. We were ordered to “fall in,” and were marched up the run about four miles, and then ordered back to “Blackburn’s Ford.” Our company and the “Hardy Greys” were thrown out as skirmishers, opposite the ford, in a skirt of woods commanding a full view of the ford, and ordered to fire on the enemy if they attempted to cross the run. While we were lying in that position heavy firing was heard on our left, both infantry and artillery. In a few moments we were ordered from there to join the regiment, and went “double quick” up the run to where the fighting was going on. The balance of the brigade was in line of battle behind the brow of a small ridge. We were halted at the foot of this ridge and Colonel Cummings told us that it was General Jackson’s command that our regiment should depend principally on the bayonet that day, as it was a musket regiment.
Some of the boys were very keen for a fight, and while we were down in the run they were afraid it would be over before we got into it. One in particular, Thomas McGraw, was very anxious to get a shot at the “bluecoats,” and when the Colonel read us the order about the bayonet I asked Tom how he liked that part of the programme. He said that was closer quarters than he had anticipated.
Our regiment marched up the hill and formed “left in front,” on the left of the brigade, and on the entire left of our army. As we passed by the other regiments the shells were bursting and cutting down the pines all around us, and we were shaking hands and bidding farewell to those we were acquainted with, knowing that in a few moments many of us would be stretched lifeless on the field.
At this time our troops were falling back, but in good order, fighting every inch of the way, but were being overpowered and flanked by superior numbers. They were the 2d Mississippi and Colonel Evans’ 4th Alabama Regiments, General Bee’s South Carolina Brigade, Colonel Bartow’s 7th and 8th Georgia Regiments, Major Wheat’s Battalion (called the Louisiana Tigers), and Imboden’s Battery. They had resisted the main portion of the “Federal Army” and had done all that men could do, and had lost severely, but were still holding the enemy in check while we were forming.
It was there and at this time that General Jackson received the name of “Stonewall,” and the brigade the ever memorable name of “Stonewall Brigade.” General Barnard E. Bee, riding up to General Jackson, who sat on his horse calm and unmoved, though severely wounded in the hand, exclaimed in a voice of anguish: “General, they are beating us back!”
Turning to General Bee, he said calmly: “Sir, we’ll give them the bayonet.”
Hastening back to his men, General Bee cried enthusiastically, as he pointed to Jackson: “Look yonder! There is Jackson and his brigade standing like a stone wall. Let us determine to die here and we will conquer. Rally behind them!”
They passed through our brigade and formed in the rear. I knew they were South Carolinians by the “Palmetto tree” on their caps. General Bee and Colonel Bartow fell, mortally wounded. The enemy, flushed with victory, pushed on, never dreaming what was lying just behind the brow of the hill in the pines. There seemed to be a lull in the firing just at this time, and Sergeant James P. Daily, of my company, walked up to the brow of the hill, but soon returned with the exclamation: “Boys, there is the prettiest sight from the top of the hill you ever saw; they are coming up on the other side in four ranks, and all dressed in red.”
When we heard that, I, with several others, jumped up and started to see, but Colonel Cummings ordered us to “stay in ranks,” and Daily remarked: “We will see them soon enough.” Sure enough, in a few seconds the head of the column made its appearance, with three officers on horseback in front, and marching by the flank, with the intention of flanking: one of our batteries—the Rockbridge Artillery, Captain W. N. Pendleton. In a few minutes they spied us lying there, and I heard one of the officers say: “Hello! what men are these?” At that moment some of our men who, evidently, had the “buck fever,” commenced, without orders, firing some scattering shots. The enemy then poured a volley into us, but as we were lying down the balls went over our heads, harmless.
That morning we had been given a signal to use in time of battle, to distinguish friend from foe, which was to throw the right hand to the forehead, palm outward, and say, “Sumter.” When this regiment (which was the 14th Brooklyn, N. Y.), appeared in view Colonel Cummings gave the signal, and it was returned by one of the officers, but how they got it was a mystery. So, when the scattering shots were fired by some of our regiment, Colonel Cummings exclaimed: “Cease firing, you are firing on friends!” and the volley came from them at the same time, and I know I remarked, “Friends, hell! That looks like it.”
Colonel Cummings, seeing his mistake, and also seeing a battery of artillery taking position and unlimbering, in close proximity and in a place where it could enfilade our troops, determined to capture it before it could do any damage. I don’t think he had any orders from any superior officer, but took the responsibility on himself. Then came the command: “Attention! Forward march! Charge bayonets! Double quick!” and away we went, sweeping everything before us; but the enemy broke and fled.
We were soon in possession of the guns, killed nearly all the horses, and a great portion of the men were killed or wounded; and we were none too soon, for one minute more and four guns would have belched forth into our ranks, carrying death and destruction, and perhaps been able to have held their position. As it was, the guns were rendered useless, and were not used any more that day, although we had to give them up temporarily.
We were halted, and one of my company, Thomas Furlough, who had belonged to the artillery in the Mexican war, threw down his musket and said: “Boys, let’s turn the guns on them.” That was the last sentence that ever passed his lips, for just then he was shot dead.
While this was going on, the enemy were throwing a force on our left flank in the pines, and commenced pouring it into us from the front and an enfilading fire from the flank, and were cutting us to pieces, when we were ordered back, and halted at our first position.
Then we were reinforced by the 49th Virginia and the 6th North Carolina Regiments, commanded by Colonel Chas. F. Fisher (who was killed a few minutes afterwards) and “Extra Billy” Smith. This made our line longer, and we were ordered to charge again. The charge of Jackson’s men was terrific. The enemy were swept before them like chaff before a whirlwind. Nothing could resist their impetuosity. The men seemed to have caught the dauntless spirit and determined will of their heroic commander, and nothing could stay them in their onward course. The 33d Virginia, in its timely charge, saved the day by capturing and disabling Griffin’s battery, altho’ they could not hold it just then. The name won that day by the brigade and its General is immortal.
In this action our regiment (the 33d Virginia), being on the extreme left, was alone, the balance of the brigade not charging until later, and we were terribly cut up and had to fall back. General Jackson said he could afford to sacrifice one regiment to save the day; and it was the first check and first repulse the enemy had received, and during the remainder of the day the battle turned in favor of the Confederates.
We did not follow them far, for fresh troops were coming in all the time, and we had lost severely, and were considerably demoralized. I then took a stroll over the battlefield, to see who of my comrades were dead or wounded, and saw my friend, William I. Blue, lying on his face, dead. I turned him over to see where he was shot. He must have been shot through the heart, the place where he wanted to be shot, if shot at all. He must have been killed instantly, for he was in the act of loading his gun. One hand was grasped around his gun, in the other he held a cartridge, with one end of it in his mouth, in the act of tearing it off.
I sat down by him and took a hearty cry, and then, thinks I, “It does not look well for a soldier to cry,” but I could not help it. I then stuck his gun in the ground by his side, marked his name, company and regiment on a piece of paper, pinned it on his breast, and went off.
I then saw three field officers a short distance from me looking through a field glass. I very deliberately walked up to them and asked them to let me look through it, and one of them handed it to me. When looking through it I saw, about two miles off, in a large field, what I took to be about 10,000 of the enemy. The field appeared to be black with them. I returned the glass, saying: “My God! have we all of them to fight yet?” Just at that moment “Pendleton’s Battery” turned their guns on them and I saw the first shell strike in the field. I don’t think it was five minutes until the field was vacant. I felt considerably relieved. I had had enough of fighting for that day. We had gained a great victory. The enemy were completely routed and panic-stricken, and never halted until they arrived at Alexandria and Washington.
My company only numbered fifty-five, rank and file, when we went into service, but, so many having the measles and other ailments, we went into the fight with only twenty-seven men, and out of that number we lost five killed and six wounded. The killed were William I. Blue, Thomas Furlough, James Adams, John W. Marker and Amos Hollenback. The wounded were Sergeant William Montgomery, John Rinehart, Robert C. Grace, Edward Allen, A. A. Young and Joseph Cadwallader.
The regiment went into action with about 450 men, and lost forty-three killed and 140 wounded. Our regiment fought the 14th Brooklyn Zouaves and the 1st Michigan, which poured a deadly volley into us. While we were engaged in front, Colonel Cummings ordered the regiment to fall back three times before they did so. All the troops engaged suffered more or less, but the loss in the 33d Virginia was greater than that of any regiment on either side, as the statistics will show, and it was the smallest regiment, not being full and not numbered.
We worked nearly all night taking care of the wounded, for nearly all of the enemy’s wounded were left in our hands. I took a short sleep on the battle-field. The next day was rainy and muddy. The regiment was ordered to “fall in,” but not knowing where they were going, I did not want to leave until I had buried my friend, according to promise. When they marched off I hid behind a wagon, and Sergeant Daily, seeing me, ordered me to come on. I told him never would I leave that field until I had buried my friend, unless I was put under arrest. He then left me, and I looked around for some tools to dig a grave. I found an old hoe and spade, and commenced digging the grave under an apple tree in an orchard pear the “Henry house.”
While I was at work a Georgian came to me and wanted the tools as soon as I was done with them. He said he wanted to bury his brother, and asked if I was burying a brother.
“No,” I replied, “but dear as a brother.”
“As you have no one to help you,” he said, “and I have no one to help me, suppose we dig the grave large enough for both, and we can help one another carry them here.”
“All right,” I said, “but I want to bury my friend next to the tree, for, perhaps, his father will come after him.”
So we buried them that way and gathered up some old shingles to put over the bodies, and a piece of plank between them. Then I rudely carved his name on the tree.
Captain William Lee, who was acting Lieutenant Colonel, was killed, and our Sergeant Major, Randolph Barton, a cadet from the Virginia Military Institute, was severely wounded.
That evening there was a detail made from each company to bury the dead, and we buried all alike, friend and foe, and thus ended the first battle of “Bull Run,” and the first big battle of the war.
There is no doubt but that the timely charge of the 33d Virginia turned the tide of battle and saved the day for the Confederates. Colonel Cummings took the responsibility upon himself and ordered the charge just in the nick of time, for in five minutes’ time the Federals would have had their battery in position and would have had an enfilading fire on the brigade and Pendleton’s Battery, and made their position untenable. I herewith append a letter from Colonel Cummings, and one from Captain Randolph Barton, which bear me out in my statement, and more fully explain the situation and results. Also one that I had written to my parents three days after the battle, and which is still preserved.
IV.
“Abington, Va., November 10, 1896.
“John O. Casler, Esq.:
“My Dear Friend: If you could realize the great pleasure your letter gave me you would not regret the time spent in writing. As you know, the 33d Regiment, which I organized at Winchester, was made up from Hampshire, one company; Hardy, one; Frederick, one; Rockingham, one; Page, one, and Shenandoah five, and as I have hardly ever been from home for the last fifteen years I rarely meet any of the old regiment, and when I do, or hear from them, it is a source of the greatest pleasure, especially when I learn they are getting on well, as I am sure you are.
“As you say, I never had a great deal to say, and am somewhat reserved in my manners, but from my experience as Captain in the Mexican war I found that the greatest service I could render the men under my command was to see they were as well taken care of and provided for as circumstances would permit.
“I am pleased to know that you have written your experience of ‘Four Years in the Stonewall Brigade,’ and when your new edition is published I will certainly procure a copy, as I am sure of being interested in it.
“I noticed one slight mistake in your letter with regard to myself, but of no importance. I did not resign, but for what I regarded as sufficient reason (not necessary to state now) was not a candidate for re-election at the reorganization! of the army. Was elected to the Legislature, in which I served the last years of the war, until the surrender; practiced law for some fifteen or more years, since which I have devoted myself to my farm a few miles from Abington.
“The law was my profession, which I commenced to practice the year after the close of the Mexican war. I have had two letters from Randolph Barton recently, whom you may remember, who had for the first time since the close of the war visited the battle-field of the First Manassas, and who seems to be much interested in the part performed by the 33d and the Stonewall Brigade on that memorable 21st of July, 1861.
“Barton was a cadet at the Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Va., at the commencement of the war; was assigned to the 33d when I was organizing at Winchester in the early part of July. I had no field officer at that time, and made him Sergeant Major. He was a bright young man, an Adjutant General on General Walker’s staff, and is now a prominent lawyer in Baltimore. He desired my recollection of the part performed by the 33d and the Stonewall Brigade, which I furnished him, and which corrresponded pretty well with his own, with a few minor exceptions.
“Our army left Winchester about 2 o’clock on the 18th of July, the Stonewall Brigade in front. The 33d did not reach Manassas until a little before daylight on Saturday morning, the 20th. On Saturday morning we marched out and joined the other regiments of the brigade in rear of McLane’s Ford, on Bull Run. Our line of battle extended from about Union Mills, on Bull Run, on the right, to the stone bridge. It was expected we would be attacked upon the right and center, but when it was ascertained early Sunday morning that the enemy was marching in the direction of the stone bridge, with the evident design of turning our left flank and reaching the Manassas Gap railroad, the Stonewall Brigade was moved up Bull Run and somewhat parallel with it (making short stops at intervals), until we reached the brow of the hill in front of the “Henry house,” where the brigade was formed in line of battle in a thicket of small pines. In the meantime, the battle was raging in the direction of the stone bridge, and our forces were being driven back before overpowering numbers. The line of the brigade was formed, with the 5th Regiment on the right, then the 4th and 27th (the latter two supporting Pendleton’s Battery), then the 2d and 33d.
“At that time the brigade was the extreme left of our army, and the 33d, on the left of the brigade, was ordered to lie down in the edge of the pines, which, aided by the conformation of the ground, at that time concealed us from the sight of the enemy, who, in large numbers, were pressing towards our right.
“Our orders were to wait until the enemy were within thirty paces, then to fire and charge with the bayonet. About that time General Jackson came along the line and directed me to look out for the enemy’s artillery. As you are aware, the 33d had just been organized before we left Winchester, and, with the exception of two or three companies, were perfectly raw troops, and two of those, Captain Holliday’s (afterward Governor) and Captain Jones’ (afterward Colonel) were left behind, one as guard and one on detached service, and consequently were not in the fight. So there were but eight companies present, numbering about 400 men, for active duty. When General Jackson directed me to look out for the enemy’s artillery, Captain William Lee, who was acting as Lieutenant Colonel, and a gallant man he was, and I walked out on the plateau and saw the artillery of the enemy moving rapidly up the Sudley road to our front and left, and large bodies of the enemy’s infantry moving along the hill towards our left flank, and we returned immediately to the regiment.
“There had been some confusion in the regiment, produced by a solid shot being fired towards the regiment and tearing up the ground, together with the appearance of some red-coats on our left. Previous to this time the enemy’s artillery fire had been directed towards the regiments of the brigade and at Pendleton’s Battery. This little confusion in the regiment, and the fact of the men being raw and undisciplined, made me uncertain as to what would be the result, if I waited, as directed by General Jackson, until the enemy was within thirty paces. And, therefore, as soon as I returned to the regiment I ordered the charge, without waiting, as directed, until the enemy was within thirty paces, with the result that the enemy’s battery was taken, or rather, as I think, a section of it, without, as I believe, a gun being fired. No old regulars ever made a more gallant charge, though not a very regular one. Of course, we could not hold it without support, in the face of such overwhelming numbers, though the horses were shot down, and I have now an artillery bit, cut from one of the horses, which I have used ever since.
“The 33d suffered more in the first battle of Manassas than any regiment in our army.
“I regretted very much Captain Lee’s death. My acquaintance with him was short, but I esteemed him very highly. He was a true and gallant man, and being from the old army, and experienced, was of great service to me. My friend Barton is also of the true blue order. I have long cherished the hope of visiting the Valley, where I would meet some of the survivors of the 33d, but suppose I must be content to remember them with the greatest kindness.
“I am now in my 75th year, and feel the heavy weight of years. Very truly your friend,
“ARTHUR C. CUMMINGS,
“Colonel 33d Virginia Infantry.”
“Manassas Junction, July 24, 1861.
“Dear Father and Mother: I seat myself once more to write you a few lines, to let you know where I am and that I am still alive.
“Last Sunday was such a day as I had never seen, and I hope to God I never will see another such a time. We had one of the hardest battles that ever was fought in the United States. I have not power to describe the scene. It beggars all description.
“We left Winchester on Thursday, and traveled that day and night, and Friday, about 9 o’clock, we arrived at Piedmont Station, and that evening we got on the cars and arrived at the Junction that night. The next morning we marched about four miles east, where they had had a battle on Thursday. We stayed there all that day and night, expecting an attack every hour.
“On Sunday morning our forces were attacked four miles higher up, and we made a quick march from there to the battle-field, where we arrived about 12. They had been fighting all morning, but about 10 they got at it in earnest. We got there (that is, Jackson’s Brigade) just in the heat of the battle, and our regiment was on the extreme left, and the enemy was trying to flank us. They did not see us until they were within fifty yards of us, as we were under the brow of the hill, and they were ordered to fire, but we were too soon for them. We fired first, and advanced, and then they fired. We then charged bayonets, yelling like savages, and they retreated, and our regiment took their artillery; but they were reinforced, and we had to fall back, exposed to two heavy fires, when we were reinforced by a North Carolina regiment; then we charged again and they retreated, and that part of the field, with the famous Griffin’s Battery, was ours. But the battle lasted about one hour longer in another part of the field, when they retreated in great confusion towards Alexandria, and then the cavalry and artillery pursued them about seven miles, killing and wounding a great many, and taking all their artillery and baggage; but the field for five miles around was covered with the dead and the dying.
“I cannot tell how many we lost, but we lost a great many. Their loss was three times as great as ours. Our regiment lost thirty-five killed and over one hundred wounded. Our little company of thirty-two lost five killed and five wounded. Among the killed was poor Will Blue. He was shot dead. Never spoke, shot through the heart. Amos Hollenback, Polk Marker, Tom Furlough and Jim Adams, a fellow that lived with Dr. Moore, were killed. Will Montgomery was badly wounded, but not dangerously. Also John Rinehart, Bob Grace, Arch Young and Ed Allen were slightly wounded, but are able to go about.
“We took seventy-six pieces of cannon and between 1,000 and 2,000 prisoners—several important ones, some of Lincoln’s cabinet. Also, General Scott’s carriage. He and some of the ladies from Washington came out as far as Centerville to see the Rebels run. They saw us running, but it was after the Yankees.
“The next morning I went on their retreat two miles, and the baggage was lying in every direction—coats, cartridge boxes, canteens, guns, blankets, broken-down wagons.
“The bombs, cannon balls and musket balls whistled all around my head. I could feel the wind from them in my face, but I was not touched. It is rumored that we are going to take Washington. Jeff Davis got here just after the battle, and is on his way to Alexandria now.
“There were about 40,000 of the enemy engaged in the battle, and 25,000 Confederates.
“You must not be surprised to hear of me getting killed, for we don’t know when we will be killed. Farewell,
“JOHN O. CASLER.”
CAPTAIN RANDOLPH BARTON’S LETTER.
“Baltimore, Md. January 15, 1897.
“John O. Casler:
“Dear Comrade: Our command reached Manassas Junction on the 20th of July, in the morning, I think. We marched during the day to the right of the line, and the next day we marched and countermarched, halted and rushed, as the changing localities of the conflict, as far as our commanders could anticipate, seemed to require. My dinner was made from blackberries, for being outside of the ranks (as Sergeant Major) I could pick them as we passed over the fields. About 1 o’clock our regiment reached the elevation on which is seated the historic Henry house, and took position on the left flank of our brigade, up to that hour known as the 1st Brigade, or Jackson’s Brigade, ever afterwards as the Stonewall Brigade.
“As we approached our position, we heard for the first time the horrid screaming of hostile shells going over our heads, high up in the air, but not so high as not to be dangerous. I recall now with some amusement the intense gravity and astonishment written upon the faces of the men as these dangerous missiles from the batteries of Rickett and Griffin went hurtling over us; but I recall no signs of timidity. The men kept in their ranks, obeyed orders and moved into position on the left of the 2d Virginia, of which Brother Strother, my cousin, Willie Barton, and all my Winchester friends were members, with steadiness and resolution. My brother David was in the Rockbridge Battery, which was being supported by our brigade. My uncle, Frank Jones, and my brother-in-law, Thomas Marshall, were on Jackson’s staff. I felt the solemnity of the moment, but I recall no disposition whatever to turn and run. On the other hand, a sense of pride, a desire to emulate the action of the best men on the field possessed me, as it did, I believe, all of our command, except the Adjutant of our regiment. I think I went into that action with less trepidation than into any subsequent one. Inexperience doubtless had much to do with it, but, again, I attribute much of the nerve that sustained me to my year at Lexington. I felt on the field that the orders of our officers were supreme; that come what might, they must be obeyed, and discipline told on me from first to last. I will not give many details of the battle; they have been told by so many writers that it would prolong this narrative unduly for me to repeat them. I will only say that, after taking our position on the left of the brigade, we laid upon the ground listening to the musketry and cannonading going on to our right, or, rather, somewhat in front of our right, from the Confederate forces, which was being vigorously responded to by the Yankees. The ‘Henry house’ was in front of our brigade, over the hill—the upper part of the house visible—and the Robinson house was to the right of that a few hundred yards. Occasional shells would explode over our regiment, and the solemn wonderment written on the faces of the men as they would crane their heads around to look out for falling branches was almost amusing. I was near the left flank of the regiment, a few steps in rear, where, upon the formation of the regiment in line of battle, I belonged. Doubtless I wished I was home, but I had to stick. I remember an elderly man riding leisurely by towards the left, in rear of us, apparently giving orders. Some one, possibly myself, asked him who he was. He turned his horse and said: ‘I am Colonel Smith, otherwise Governor Smith, otherwise Extra Billy Smith.’ It was, in fact, Colonel Smith, a game old fellow, who, I suppose, was looking over the ground for a position for his regiment, the 49th Virginia, as it subsequently took position on our left, and finally united in one of the charges upon Griffin’s Battery.
“Colonel Cummings and Lieutenant Colonel Lee were in front of our regiment, perhaps a hundred yards, stooping down, and occasionally standing to get a view over the crest of the hill that rose gently before us for a little over a hundred yards. The musketry kept up on our right, and then Colonels Cummings and Lee were seen to rise and, bending down, to come back with somewhat quickened steps to the regiment. I remember, as Colonel Cummings drew near, he called out: ‘Boys, they are coming, now wait until they get close before you fire.’
“Almost immediately several pieces of artillery, their horses in front, made their appearance on the hill in front of us, curving as if going into battery, and at the same time I descried the spear-point and upper portion of a United States flag, as it rose in the hands of its bearer over the hill; then I saw the bearer, and the heads of the men composing the line of battle to the right and left of him. At the sight several of our men rose from the ranks, leveled their muskets at the line, and, although I called out, ‘Do not fire yet,’ it was of no use; they fired and then the shrill cry of Colonel Cummings was heard, ‘Charge!’ and away the regiment went, firing as they ran, into the ranks of the enemy, and particularly at the battery towards which our line rapidly approached. Although bearing a non-commissioned officer’s sword, I had obtained a cartridge box, belted it on, and had in some way secured a flintlock musket, with which one of our companies was armed. This gun, after two futile efforts, I fired at a man on horseback in the battery, one of the drivers, I think. I got near enough to the battery to see that it was thoroughly disabled, horses and men falling, and our line driving ahead, when I felt the sting of a bullet tearing a piece from my side, just under my cartridge box, which I had pulled well around on the right and front of my waist. I called out that I was wounded to my uncle, Frank Jones, who helped me up on his horse, and carried me to the rear.
“I think it can be demonstrated that the victory of First Manassas is traceable to Colonel Cummings. For fifteen or twenty minutes before our regiment (the 33d Virginia) rose and charged Griffin’s Battery the men of Bee’s and Bartow’s (and, I think, Evans’) commands were coming back over the hill from the Robinson and Henry houses in the greatest disorder, a flying, panic-stricken mob. The Stonewall Brigade maintained its line with the steadiness of veterans. The Rockbridge Battery, with its little guns, was doing its best. Jackson, about that time, rode along the front of his brigade, waiting for the critical moment to order his men into action. It was in his efforts to rally his command that the gallant Bee called to them to rally behind the Virginians. Pointing to Jackson, he used the memorable expression, ‘Look at Jackson, standing like a stone wall.’ The precise expression he used it is impossible to learn. He most probably said, ‘Look at Jackson and his men, standing like a stone wall.’ He had galloped up to Jackson a moment before, and had said: ‘General, they are driving us back,’ and Jackson replied, the words snapping from his lips like grape-shot from a gun, ‘Then we will give them the bayonet.’
“Bee turned to gallop toward’ his fleeing men, with the inspiration of Jackson possessing him, called out his immortal language, and fell, mortally wounded.
“Jackson had, within the half hour before, passed along his brigade the order not to fire until the enemy was within thirty paces, and then charge. So Colonel Cummings writes to me under date of September 20, 1896. But, says Colonel Cummings, the shells of the enemy had caused some confusion ‘with the left company of my regiment,’ or, rather, his command, of eight companies, and when Griffin’s Battery showed itself on the hill in front of us, and occasional shots began to fall among us from the enemy moving towards our left to flank us, when the tumult of the broken ranks of Bee and Bartow was threatening the steadiness of our right, and the enemy, with exultant shouts, was pressing on Colonel Cummings, like a flash, thought if those guns get into battery and pour one discharge of grape and canister into the ranks of my raw recruits the day is gone, and then it was, with splendid discretion, he took the responsibility of changing his orders, with the changed conditions, as Grouchy should have done at Waterloo, and charged the enemy.
