Chapter 55

FIRST BATTLE OF BRANDY STATION.

The sentinel's lonely round.--General Pope in command of the army.--Is gunboat service effective?--First cavalry battle of Brandy Station.--Under a rain of bullets.--Flipper's orchard.--"Bring up the brigade, boys!"--Capture of Confederate prisoners.--Story of a revolver.--Cedar Mountain.--Burial of the dead rebel.--Retreat from the Rapidan.--The riderless horse.--Death of Captain Walters.

The Harris Light now entered upon exciting times, and Corporal Glazier, ever at the post of duty, had little leisure for anything unconnected with the exigencies of camp and field. At that period the men of both armies were guilty of the barbarous practice of shooting solitary sentinels at their posts, and no man went on guard at night without feeling that an inglorious death might await him in the darkness, while deprived of the power to strike a defensive blow, or to breathe a prayer.

On the twenty-second of July, 1862, a new commander was assigned the Army of Virginia in the person of General John Pope. General McClellan had lost the confidence of the Northern people by his continued disasters, and was at length succeeded by General Pope, who was placed at the head of the united commands of Fremont, Banks, McDowell (and later in August), Burnside and Fitz-John Porter. General Pope commenced his duties with a ringing address to the army under his command. Among other things, he declared: "That he had heard much of 'lines of communication and retreat,' but the only _line_ in his opinion, that a general should know anything about, _was the line of the enemy's retreat_." The _dash_ of such a theory of war was extremely invigorating, and once more the hearts of the Northern people cherished and exulted in the hope that they had found the "right man for the right place." Popular enthusiasm reacted upon the army; their idol of yesterday was dethroned, and they girded their loins for a renewal of the struggle, in the full belief that, with Pope to lead them, they would write a very different chapter upon the page of History, from that which recorded their Peninsular campaign.

Here we desire to correct a statement, then current, regarding the value of the gunboat service, viz., that McClellan's army was indebted for its safety during the retreat from Malvern Hill to the gunboats stationed in James River. That this was not the case is proven by the testimony of L. L. Dabney, chief-of-staff to General T. J. Jackson. He says: "It is a fact worthy of note, that the fire of the gunboats, so much valued by the Federals, and, at one time, so much dreaded by the Confederates, had no actual influence whatever in the battle. The noise and fury doubtless produced a certain effect upon the emotions of the assailants, but this was dependent upon their novelty. The loss effected by them was trivial when compared with the ravages of the field artillery; and it was found chiefly among their own friends. Far more of their ponderous missiles fell within their own lines than within those of the Confederates. Indeed, a fire directed at an invisible foe across two or three miles of intervening hills and woods can never reach its aim, save by accident. Nor is the havoc wrought by the larger projectiles in proportion to their magnitude. Where one of them explodes against a human body it does, indeed, crush it into a frightful mass, but it is not likely to strike more men, in the open order of field operations, than a shot of less weight; and the wretch blown to atoms by it is not put _hors du combat_ more effectually than he whose brain is penetrated by half an ounce of lead or iron. The broadside of a modern gunboat may consist of three hundred pounds of iron projected by forty pounds of powder, but it is fired from only _two_ guns. The effect upon a line of men, therefore, is but one-fifteenth of that which the same metal might have had, fired from ten-pounder rifled guns."

The truth of the matter is, that so far as offensive operations in conjunction with that army were concerned, the gunboats were more ornamental than useful; and it is not just that the modicum of glory (mingled with so much of disaster), won fairly upon that occasion by the land forces, should be awarded to another branch of the service.

General Pope was not permitted to remain long before an opportunity offered for practically testing his war theories. McClellan's troops had scarcely recovered breath after their retreat from before Richmond when Lee, leaving his entrenchments, boldly threw himself forward and met Pope and the Union forces, face to face on the old battle-ground of Manassas. The Harris Light, prior to the second battle of Bull Run, had been offered, and eagerly accepted, an opportunity to cross swords with the "Southern chivalry," and the result now was a desperate encounter at Brandy Station. The first action which baptized in blood this historic ground took place August twentieth, 1862. About six o'clock in the morning a heavy column of Stuart's cavalry was discovered approaching from the direction of Culpepper, and Kilpatrick received orders to check their advance. The Harris Light, acting as rear guard of Bayard's brigade, kept the enemy in check until Bayard could form his command at a more favorable point two miles north of the station. Corporal Glazier was in the front rank of the first squadron that led the charge, and repulsed the enemy. His horse was wounded in the neck, and his saddle and canteen perforated with bullets.

The fight at Flipper's Orchard preceded that at Brandy Station by more than a month, having occurred on the Fourth of July. The Troy company of the Harris Light had been ordered, about eight o'clock in the morning of that day, to reconnoitre the Telegraph Road, south of Fredericksburg. Leaving camp, they soon came in sight of a detachment of Bath cavalry on patrol duty, escorting the Richmond mail. They learned the strength of the enemy from some colored people along the route, and also the probability that they would halt at Flipper's Orchard for refreshments. This place was on the south bank of the Po River, some twenty miles from Fredericksburg, in an angle formed by the roads leading to Bull Church and the Rappahannock. After following them for several hours, the company halted for consultation, "and," says Glazier, "our lieutenant put the question to vote, whether we should go on and capture the foe, about one hundred strong, or return to camp. The vote was unanimous for battle. I was in charge of the advance guard, having a squad of four men, and received orders to strike a gallop. Just as we came within sight of the Orchard, we saw the Confederates dismounting and making leisurely arrangements for their repast. Dashing spurs into our horses' flanks, we wheeled round the corner and along the Bull Church Road, sweeping down upon them with tremendous clatter. 'Here they are, boys!' I shouted; 'bring up the brigade!' We were about forty in number, but surprised them completely, and they fled panic-stricken. Twelve men and nine horses were captured. On reaching Dr. Flipper's house, I noticed a dismounted Confederate officer who, with others, was running across a wheat-field. I started in hot pursuit, jumping my horse over a six-rail fence to reach him. He fired upon me with both carbine and revolver, but missed his mark, and by this time I stood over him with my navy-revolver, demanding his surrender. He gave up his arms and equipments, which were speedily transferred to my own person. We made quick work of the fight, the whole affair lasting not longer than fifteen minutes. The Confederate reserves were only a short distance off at Bull Church, and we hurried back with our spoils towards the Rappahannock, fearful that we might be overtaken. My prisoner, as I afterward learned, was Lieutenant Powell, in command of the patrol. His revolver has a story of its own. It was a beautiful silver-mounted weapon, and I resolved to keep possession of it as my especial trophy, instead of turning it over to the Quartermaster's Department. This was not an easy matter, as vigilant eyes were on the look-out for all 'munitions of war captured from the enemy,' which were consigned to a common receptacle. I therefore dug a hole in the ground of our tent and buried my treasure, where it remained until we changed our encampment. One day, some time after, I carelessly left it lying on a log, a short distance from camp, and on returning found it gone. While I stood there deploring my ill luck, I heard a succession of clear, snapping shots just beyond a rise of ground directly in front of me, and recognized the familiar report of my revolver. Going in the direction of the shots, I rescued it from the hands of a sergeant by whom it had been temporarily confiscated. After this adventure I concluded to incur no further risks with the weapon, and so packed it in a cigar-box and sent it to my sister Elvira."

The battle of Cedar Mountain, fought on the afternoon of August ninth, 1862, needs only a passing notice in connection with this record. The battalion in which Corporal Glazier served acted as body-guard to General McDowell, and arrived on the field just as the wave of battle was receding. The following morning, on passing over the slopes of Cedar Mountain, where the guns of General Banks had made sad havoc on the previous day, a dead Confederate soldier, partially unburied, attracted the attention of the troopers. At that period of the war a sentiment of extreme bitterness toward the adversary pervaded the ranks on both sides, and as the squadron swept by the men showered on the poor dead body remarks expressive of their contempt. Corporal Glazier was an exception. Moved by an impulse born of our common humanity, he returned and buried the cold, stark corpse, covering it with mother Earth; and when questioned why he gave such consideration to a miserable dead rebel, replied, that he thought any man brave enough to die for a principle, should be respected for that bravery, whether his cause were right or wrong.

On the eighteenth of the month our cavalry relieved the infantry on the line of the Rapidan, and on the nineteenth, in a sharp skirmish between Stuart's and Bayard's forces, Captain Charles Walters, of the Harris Light Cavalry, was killed. This officer was very popular in the regiment, and his death cast a gloom over all. Wrapped in a soldier's blanket his body was consigned to a soldier's grave at the solemn hour of midnight. And while the sad obsequies were being performed, orders came for the retreat to Culpepper.

"We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sod with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And our lanterns dimly burning.

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"Slowly and sadly we laid him down, On the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But left him alone with his glory."