CHAPTER V
THE BATTLE OF FIRST MANASSAS—GENERAL JOHNSTON TO THE RESCUE—GEN. KIRBY SMITH TURNS THE TIDE OF BATTLE—THE REBEL YELL—THE NEWS OF VICTORY—THE ENEMY NOT PURSUED—GATHERING THE SPOILS
On Sunday morning, the 21st of July, quite early, on the left, up the run, the ball opened again, and "partners, to your places," was the order, or in army parlance, "Fall in!" "Attention!" The Yankee General, McDowell, stole a march on General Beauregard that morning.
Beauregard had planned to take the aggressive, by making an attack on McDowell's left near Centreville, and when General Johnston reached Beauregard about noon on the 20th, he approved the plan; accordingly orders were issued that night to begin the battle the next morning at sunrise. The right wing of the Confederate forces was to cross the run and attack the left wing of the Yankee army. McDowell had also been doing some planning himself, and as he got in the first lick, frustrated the Confederate general's scheme.
He, too, proposed to use his right arm in an attack on the Confederate left wing. McDowell put his army in motion before daybreak on the morning of the 21st of July, moving out from Centreville. A small column of infantry, artillery and cavalry, in battle array, marched out on the road leading to the stone bridge, the Confederate left, and at daylight formed line of battle and opened fire at long range, while the main body of the army was making a detour through the woods still higher up the run, and crossing at Sudley's Ford two miles above the stone bridge unopposed, marched down on the Confederate left flank and rear. As soon as General Evans, who was in command at the stone bridge, was apprised of this movement on the left, he changed front with a part of his brigade to meet the attack and sent for reënforcements. Generals Bee and Bartow first came to his relief, and in a short time the battle was raging fiercely. Generals Johnston and Beauregard hearing the firing to the left, and learning the extent and object of this movement of the enemy, at once abandoned their contemplated attack with their right wing, and bent every energy to resist the attack on their left. Beauregard went immediately to the front and displayed great gallantry, personally leading the troops in the charge, while Johnston remained back to direct the forwarding of the troops to reënforce the hard-pressed left.
Before sufficient reënforcements could reach the scene of conflict, the heavy columns of the enemy drove back the small forces confronting them. The position at the stone bridge being flanked by the enemy and abandoned by the Confederates, the Yankee column in front of this position crossed over and joined the flanking column of the enemy. Some desperate fighting was done here, and noble deeds of valor performed by men and officers never before in battle.
Bee and Bartow, two young generals from South Carolina and Alabama, won immortal fame, both giving their lives to the cause on that (to them) fateful day. Reënforcements were hurried forward as fast as possible, but still the Confederate lines were pressed slowly back, contesting every foot of ground, which was covered in many places with second-growth pines.
GENERAL JOHNSTON TO THE RESCUE
By preärrangement, of which none but the chief Confederate officers knew, Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, who was confronting a Yankee army in the Valley under General Patterson, who had orders to hold Johnston in the Valley while McDowell attacked Beauregard at Manassas, was to come to General Beauregard's support at the proper time. And if General McDowell stole a march on Beauregard on the morning of the 21st, General Johnston had on the 18th stolen a march on Patterson. On the 18th, about noon, Johnston got word from Beauregard that McDowell was in his front with an army much larger than his own, and that now was the time to help. Johnston, who was then at Winchester, at once put his army in motion up the Valley pike, then marching across towards the Blue Ridge to Piedmont, with Jackson's Brigade in the lead, which marched seventeen miles that afternoon. Jackson boarded the cars at Piedmont, and on the 20th by noon was at Manassas, the other troops following. Jackson, as before said, was placed in rear of the line along Bull Run as a reserve, and now, at a critical moment on the 21st, arrived on the battlefield, and noting the situation, remarked, so it was said, "We will give those people the bayonet," and forming his brigade in line of battle, stood firmly awaiting the propitious moment, as the Yankees were ascending the pine-covered hill on which he and his men stood. General Bee called on his broken and retreating men of the far South to "rally on the Virginians." "Look," exclaimed Bee to the South Carolinians and Alabamians, "see Jackson and his men standing like a stone wall!" Then and there the sobriquet of "Stonewall" was given to this demigod of war and his brigade, which will live forever.
As the Yankee line pressed up the hill, Jackson charged, driving them back in confusion, thus giving the first substantial check to the enemy, who had pressed back the Confederate lines for a mile or more.
GEN. KIRBY SMITH TURNS THE TIDE OF BATTLE
And there was to be another "Richmond on the field," very soon. Generals Kirby Smith and Elzey, of Johnston's command, were on the train on the Manassas Gap road, hurrying as fast as steam could carry them to Manassas Junction.
Hearing the firing to the left and knowing that the battle was not far away, instead of going on to Manassas Junction, General Smith stopped the trains before reaching that place, detrained the troops, and following the rule of war, "marched across the country to the sound of the heaviest firing," struck the enemy on his flank, with a wild yell that terrified the Yankees, and caused them to break in great confusion.
General Smith was shot from his horse, though not killed. General Elzey, who, with his brigade, had just arrived on the scene of action, then assumed command, and pushing his troops still further to the rear of the Yankee lines, completed the rout.
Such a rout and stampede as then and there occurred has scarcely been equaled in the annals of war. Of course, the Yankees had some troops back towards Centreville and on the left of their line, who were not routed and panic stricken, but I am quite sure from what I afterwards heard, and saw the next day, every mother's son of them who crossed to the west or south side of Bull Run that day were completely routed and demoralized.
THE REBEL YELL
While a prisoner during the last year of the war, I talked with a Yankee sergeant who was in the battle, and asked him why they were so badly routed. His answer was, "Well, when Kirby Smith came in on our flank and raised that _yell_, we just thought the Rebels were rising up out of the ground in those pines, everywhere, when we broke and ran, and never stopped until we crossed the Long Bridge into Washington City." This Yankee laid stress on the "yell." The Yankee cheering was done in unison and in time. It was "hip, hip, huzza, huzza, huzza," which sounded coarse and harsh to the ear, while the "Rebel yell" was one continuous shout of mingled voices, without any intermission, unisonance or time. Each man just opened his mouth as wide as he could, strained his voice to the highest pitch and yelled as long as his breath lasted, then refilling the lungs, repeated it again and again. It was a commingling of shrill, loud sounds, that rent the air and could be heard for a distance of two miles or more, often carrying terror to the enemy. It was awe-inspiring to the Yankees, but joyous sounds to the Confederates when victory was achieved. The "Rebel yell" was a child of victory, born that day on the plains of Manassas, and was afterwards, by common consent, adopted as the battle shout of the army of Northern Virginia.
I have given at some length, principally from hearsay, the main features of the battle on the left of the Confederate lines, in order that what occurred at and near Blackburn's Ford, where Longstreet's Brigade was posted, may be better described and understood.
During the whole of this day, the Yankees kept up a show of fight at Blackburn's Ford, in order to prevent the Confederate troops on the right from going to the relief of the hard-pressed left. Bonham, Holmes, Ewell, Early (except the Twenty-fourth Regiment, which remained at Blackburn's Ford), and Cocke, or the greater part of these brigades, were sent to the left. Early was late in getting upon the scene of action, owing to the miscarriage of the order for him to move, which was, from some unknown cause, delayed three hours. He rendered good service, however, pressing still further on the enemy's right and rear than Kirby Smith and Elzey had done. Jones and Longstreet remained at McLean's and Blackburn's Ford.
UNDER SHELLING
Throughout the whole day the Yankees shelled these positions at intervals of every five or ten minutes.
In the afternoon the two brigades and the Twenty-fourth Regiment crossed over the run, formed in column of regiments and lay down in the woods, expecting every moment to be ordered forward and charge the battery in front, the shells from which were continually bursting among the tree-tops, cutting off branches, these, and the fragments of shells, falling around, now and then striking some one.
I remember how sleepy I was, lying there in the woods that hot July day, often dozing between the shots. We had slept but little the past three nights. The boom of the guns, the scream of the shells, the dull thud of the pieces striking the ground and sometimes a man, was enough to awake the dead almost, and made all lie low and hug mother earth pretty closely, but still I dozed between shots.
It is surprising how close men can get to the ground when lying under a good, brisk shelling; great affection seems to be manifested for the dust, from which all sprung. At such times, a lizard, when rocked by a boy, never laid flatter on a fence rail than the soldiers lay on the ground. It was afterwards said, that orders were sent Jones and Longstreet to advance on the enemy's left near Centreville, but the order was not delivered; it was conjectured that the messenger was killed by a shell.
All day at Blackburn's Ford we could hear the battle raging up the run to the left; the booming of cannon, the explosion of the shells, and the noise of the musketry could be distinctly heard.
Sometimes the sounds would die down, the musketry firing amounting to little more than a sharp skirmish; then again the noise of the battle would rise higher and louder, sometimes drawing nearer and then recede and die down almost entirely, then fiercely rise again, while the loud peals of the battery in our front waked the echoes far and near. All this time the strain and suspense were terrible; no tidings as to how the battle was going came to us; no news came, only the roar of the battle two or three miles away could be heard. I thought this fight was the biggest that had ever occurred in the history of the world; others were of the same opinion. Col. Bob Preston in the midst of the battle remarked to Colonel Withers, as I heard Colonel Withers relate afterwards, that "the battle of Waterloo was a mere skirmish to it." I could not conceive on the 18th, while the fighting was in progress, how any could escape where so much shooting was going on. And, now on this, the 21st, the shooting was going on all day.
What must be the result! How many dead and dying were lying on the field of strife? Were our friends getting the best of the fight, or were the Yankees going to be victorious? How soon would we be called into action, and charge through the open fields up "to the very cannon's mouth"? And what would be the result? Would we capture the battery and drive away the infantry support, or be repulsed and driven back? Who and how many would be left on the field wounded, bleeding, dying and dead? All this and much more we had time to think of on that hot, never-to-be-forgotten 21st day of July, 1861. This was one of the days that the sun seemed to stand still, or move slower than usual. I never saw our company, regiment or brigade falter in battle or fail to respond to any call, but I never saw them "eager for the fight," as it is sometimes expressed. My observation of men, and my own feelings on the eve of the battle, going into the fight, or in the midst of strife, was that the bravest realized the danger and dreaded the fiery ordeal, yet did their duty when bidden.
Dr. W. H. Taylor in his "Experiences of an Assistant Surgeon," says, "I freely admit that I was never in a battle but that I should have felt the most exultant joy if I had been out of it." I freely concur in this statement as to myself and all whom I observed in battle.
THE NEWS OF VICTORY
At last, as the sun was sinking over the western hills, and the shadows lengthening, tidings from the battlefield came, and joyful news it was.
The firing had just ceased, except now and then a cannon shot in the distance; the battery in our front had ceased firing—there was an ominous silence; the very air around us, hot and sultry as it was, seemed surcharged with something more than summer heat and sulphuric fumes from exploding shells. Every man was now on his feet, all nerves were strung to the highest pitch; every one, from the highest officer to the humblest private, wore a look of intense anxiety, all in silent expectancy. What did all this portend? Was it a calm before a mightier storm than we had heard during the day, that was about to burst? Or had the storm already spent itself, and what was the result? Or had the contestants in the deadly all-day strife up the run been exhausted, and lay limp and impotent on the ground, unable to strike another blow, the one at the other? Or had they, like the Kilkenny cats, devoured each other, leaving none to tell the tale?
As the noise of battle died away, from away up the run we heard shouts and cheers, at first scarcely audible, then louder and nearer came the cheers, rolling along down the valley of Bull Run in seeming waves of mingled voices, each wave rising higher and more distinct. Messengers mounted on fleet-footed steeds, which that day had become war horses that sniffed the smoke of battle, not "from afar," but on the very field of strife and carnage, hurried down the lines along the run, shouting, "Victory! victory! victory; complete victory!" Each detachment took up the joyous shout and wafted it on to those below. From Mitchell's Ford, just above us, where Bonham and his South Carolinians on the 18th held the fort and let fly the dogs of war on the enemy's flank, Longstreet's Brigade caught the inspiration and raised its first "Rebel yell" that made the welkin ring, and sent the glad and glorious news on down to Jones and his men at McLean's Ford, and quickly came the echo back in ringing peals.
Then details of the victory began to come in. The enemy was completely routed; many prisoners and many guns had been captured. Then it came that "Long Tom," a noted Yankee cannon, was captured; then that Sherman's Battery, the crack artillery of the United States Army, was taken; then that Rickett's, another noted battery, and also Griffin's, had all been captured. The first mentioned battery, with Capt. W. T. Sherman in command, won laurels in the Mexican War, and had been known ever since as Sherman's Battery.
Longstreet at once led his brigade forward into the open field, at the farther side of which was a redoubt with abattis in front, where had been stationed the Yankee guns that shelled us all day. How different were our feelings now from what they would have been if we had entered this field during the day, and been met by a shower of shot, shell, grape and canister! Now, we were without fear, exultant and in high spirits; before, we would have been rent with missiles of death, great gaps would have been torn through the column of regiments, and many would have been left wounded and dead on the field.
The brigade marched on into the woods beyond the field towards Centreville, bivouacking on the ground of a Yankee camp, which the enemy had just abandoned, leaving evidences of hasty departure; coffee, sugar, hard-tack, and many articles of food and equipments lay scattered around. Some of the men shouted, "Don't eat them things, they may be pizened." Later on the "pizen" was not for a moment considered when a Yankee camp was raided, and when many a hungry Rebel ate to his full once more.
As the Eleventh Regiment was taking position in camp for the night, General Longstreet, "Old Pete," as he was sometimes called, rode close by, when Colonel Garland called on the men of the Eleventh to give three cheers for General Longstreet, which were given with a will, then some one, Captain Clement, I think, called out, "Three cheers for Colonel Garland," and again the shouts were raised. Warnings were sent not to use the water from Bull Run; it was said the stream up about the stone bridge was filled with dead Yankees and overflowing its banks from the obstructions of the bodies. This was a great exaggeration; in fact, few, if any, Yankees were dead in the stream.
The Yankee army was in full retreat, and more; the larger part of it was in complete rout and panic. The cry of "On to Richmond" was quickly changed to "Back to Washington."
A soldier, unless panic stricken, will hold on to his gun to the last; only when completely demoralized does he cast away his weapon of offense and defense, then he is little more than a frightened animal. The army of Northern Virginia was never panic stricken. General Lee said, "My men sometimes fail to drive the enemy, but the enemy does not drive my men," which was literally true up to the very beginning of the end, or rather, if the expression is permissible, up to the very ending of the end. Let the mind run back over the long list of desperate encounters that this army had with the enemy during those four bloody years, and this will be found to be literally true.
THE ENEMY NOT PURSUED
Much has been said about the failure of a vigorous pursuit of the enemy at and immediately after this battle of Manassas. Without going into details or giving reasons in _in extenso_ for my opinion, I have always contended that Johnston and Beauregard acted wisely and prudently under all the circumstances. No one in the Confederate army at the close of that day knew or had any means of knowing how panic stricken the Yankee soldiers really were. There were several thousand soldiers in and around Centreville, who had not been engaged, in position and condition to resist a pursuit by any force the Confederates could have sent against them that night; it's a very risky business to pursue a retreating army in the night time; traps, ambuscades, and surprises are easily planned and executed, into which the rash pursuers are sure to fall. A large majority of the Confederate troops had been marching or fighting, or both, all day, many without rations, and were in no condition to pursue the enemy ten, fifteen or twenty miles that night. The bulk of the fleeing enemy had gotten several miles away, and was still going, before it could have been possible to organize anything like a systematic and immediate pursuit. Even if the enemy had had no organized rear guard, it would have been one mob pursuing another mob.
The Confederate army could not have possibly reached the vicinity of the Potomac River opposite Washington City before the next day, and then not before noon. Here all approaches were well fortified, mounted with siege guns and manned, and the capture of Washington would have been an impossibility.
So then, away with the cry then raised by bomb-proof generals in editors' chairs a hundred miles or more away, and, as has been since often repeated, that "if Johnston and Beauregard had pursued, or if Jeff Davis, who came upon the scene of action late in the afternoon, had not prevented a pursuit, Washington could have been captured and the war then and there ended." I did not believe then, have not since, nor now believe, that any such thing could have been accomplished.
And above and far beyond all opinions and speculations on this question is the fact, that Joseph E. Johnston, G. T. Beauregard, and Jefferson Davis were all on the ground, and if these three men, with all their experience, wisdom and information did not know what was the right thing to do, who could, would, or should have known?
In this battle the losses were nothing like as large as expected, when all was summed up. The Confederate loss was estimated at a little less than four hundred killed and not quite fifteen hundred wounded.
The enemy lost about five hundred killed, one thousand wounded, and about fifteen hundred prisoners.
The Confederates captured many pieces of cannon, thousands of small arms, accoutrements, camp equipage, etc.
GATHERING THE SPOILS
On the next day, the 22d of July, Longstreet's Brigade was detailed to scour the country between Centreville and the Stone Bridge to secure the cast-away arms and equipments the Yankees left in their wild flight from the battlefield. The whole brigade was deployed, as if in skirmish line, on either side of the Warrenton turnpike, converging as it moved on to the crossing at the Stone Bridge. The greater part of the day was spent in picking up muskets, cartridge-boxes, belts, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, coats, hats, blankets, etc. It was a dark, drizzly, foggy day, much of the way through second growth pines. I remember as we were crouching beneath the low-hanging branches of the pines late in the afternoon, some of Company C were considerably startled by a cry of "halt." It proved to be a little Yankee soldier, a mere youth, who was hatless and had been wounded in the head, which was bound up with a bloody bandage. He had been in hiding since the day before in the pine thicket, presenting a forlorn appearance as he crept out from his hiding place. He had called out "halt," doubtless from habit formed while on guard duty, to attract attention. He was not badly wounded and was taken along and turned over to the provost guard who had charge of the prisoners.
Crossing over the stone bridge, the brigade went into camp for the night at the top of the long hill on the Warrenton pike, on a part of the battlefield where there were many dead horses and men, broken cannon carriages, caissons, and ammunition wagons.
Along the road between the stone bridge and Centreville much flotsam and jetsam, cast-away and abandoned things, lay strewn around on all sides. Large numbers of people, men and women, had followed in the wake of the army to witness the battle, and to join in the "On to Richmond," which all expected to follow at once. It was currently reported and believed among the Yankee soldiers and people of the North that the "Rebel army" was but a half-organized mob, armed only with flint-lock muskets and shotguns that could be easily brushed out of the way. Great preparations had been made for a big ball in the city of Richmond within the next few days. Many carriages filled with women, with all their ball costumes, were also along; Congressmen and other dignitaries came from Washington to witness the battle, and see the "Rebels run"; wagons and carts loaded with baskets of wines, liquors, and other things; stacks of pound-cake, confectioneries and fruits, oranges, lemons, etc. During the day, while the "Rebels" were being driven back, these spectators followed along the road and drew near the stone bridge, all, no doubt, in high feather and glee with much eating and drinking, and watched the scenes at the front.
When the tide of battle turned and the stream of flying Yankee soldiers, artillery, caissons, ammunition wagons and ambulances came rushing back, these spectators, in dismay and horror, turned to fly, but the mad rush of the army fleeing was upon them; no respect was paid to sex or person. It was, "Every man for himself and the devil take the hindermost."
The Confederate batteries galloped to the top of the hill south of the run and sent shells screaming along the road. The cavalry crossed the stone bridge and dashed into the rearmost ranks, all causing confusion worst confounded. Carriages, carts and wagons were upset, their occupants and contents dumped out and scattered along the road. Some of these civilians were taken prisoners, including Congressman Eli, of percussion-cap fame, whose carriage had broken down or overturned; I think he was taken to Richmond and soon afterwards released, and returned to Washington, doubtless a wiser, if not a better man. At the stone bridge a wagon or gun-carriage had been overturned or broken down; here there was a perfect jam of all kinds of vehicles that blocked the bridge.
After this our men were much better supplied with guns, cartridge-boxes, haversacks, canteens, knapsacks, oilcloths, blankets, and many other things; and all during the war until the last year, 1865, the Yankees supplied Lee's army with such things, leaving them laying around loose on almost every battlefield.
The next day the brigade marched back to camp at Manassas, passing over much of the battlefield, where still lay among the scrub-pines many swollen, blackened corpses yet unburied, though details were at work at the gruesome task. Conspicuous among the dead bodies could be seen the New York Zouaves with flashy uniforms and red fez with tassel, loose, red knee-pants and long stockings; big stalwart fellows they were, with bronzed faces and necks, but now they lay dead upon the battlefield. And doubtless some, if not all of us, in the words of the "good old Rebel," "wished we'd killed some more."
These men had invaded Virginia with guns in their hands, and we knew they had met their just deserts. Virginia and the South only wanted to be let alone; peacefully to withdraw from the compact, leaving the states north of Mason and Dixon's line with their "Union and their Flag," to cherish and love as they pleased. Only this and nothing more. But the North would not, as Horace Greeley advised, "Let their erring sisters of the South depart in peace." Instead, they waged upon the South a most cruel and devastating war. The Yankees are still charging that the South tried to break up the United States Government. This is a false charge. The South made no attack on the United States Government. The South only attempted to get from under the yoke of the North and be a free people.