CHAPTER VI.

FROM CHERRY RUN TO THE TIME THAT SHERIDAN TOOK COMMAND, INCLUDING THE BATTLES OF SNICKER’S FERRY, WINCHESTER, JULY 22D, AND MARTINSBURG.

Two days’ rest at this place when we were again on the road, without having received any supplies of clothing, although sadly needing them; many of the boys were bare-footed, and all, with uniforms, filthy and in tatters,—as can readily be concieved, when it is taken into consideration, that they had been used for marching in by day and sleeping in by night, with nothing to protect them from the pelting storm while marching, or from the ground while lying down, and this for over six weeks upon a raid, which for continuous fighting, severe marching and scarcity of rations, the history of the war presents no parallel.

Arriving at Martinsburg on the afternoon of July 13th, we visited some of our old haunts, and found that things had undergone changes generally, that the Rebels had been here, since we’d been gone, was evident, as many of our officers found out to their displeasure. All of our baggage, and camp and garrison equipage, was stored here, when starting on the “raid” up the valley; the officers leaving their valises at different private houses, containing their best clothing, all of which had been visited, and their contents duly confiscated. Lieutenants Johnson and Keyes being the only ones overlooked, for which they were duly thankful, and indulged in a little merriment at their brother officers’ misfortune.

On the 13th we broke camp, taking the road towards Harper’s Ferry, arriving there the next forenoon. On the 15th we again started out, crossing the river on a pontoon bridge, and marched down to Berlin, a little dried-up town, six miles below the Ferry, on the north bank of the Potomac, with no feature of interest, save the wildly beautiful scenery that abounds on either hand; the bold bluffs on the opposite bank—tree-crowned—seemingly guarding the noble river below, while away to the southward, the Blue Ridge, rising tier on tier, giving the surrounding atmosphere that peculiar hue, from which this range of mountains takes its name, and to the westward rises, almost to the very clouds, in picturesque beauty, the historic heights at Harper’s Ferry.

We had been detailed as escort to a battery of artillery, and early on the following morning, the “crossing over” began. The river at this point runs with great rapidity, and the bottom at the ford, we found to be full of huge boulders, causing many a mishap and much labor; sometimes a horse would go down almost out of sight, but, at last, by swimming and wading, the crossing of the artillery was safely effected; the men were transported over on an old flat-boat that lay rotting, near by, on the shore. We pushed rapidly forward to Purcillville, an insignificant hamlet, near Snicker’s Gap.

The next day being Sunday, and, for a wonder, not being called upon for any sort of duty, was passed in a sort of sleepy, dreamy way—a fact noticeable throughout our whole command. Since the severe marching and physical endurance of the past two months.

Early on Monday, the 18th, our division moved down to Snicker’s Ferry, where the enemy was posted in force on the other side of the river. Our brigade was immediately pushed forward, plunging into the water, which was waist deep, we crossed over, driving the Rebels before us, and took a position on the west bank of the famed Shenandoah. The rest of the division soon joined us, and our line of battle was rapidly formed. We had thrown out a heavy line of skirmishers, as soon as the crossing was effected, Col. Wilson taking charge of them in person, mounted on his black charger, he rode from one end of the line to the other, getting it firmly established, and, though the air was thick with bullets, he escaped unharmed.

Here occurred one of those unfortunate fights in which it was the fortune of our forces so often to participate during the course of the war. Our lines were formed in something of a circle on the top of a knoll extending along the river, where, from the maneuvering of the enemy, we could see that they were in strong force. Soon they came charging down upon us, but our line stood firm as a rock, and sent them whirling back into the woods, where they re-formed their broken line, and with reinforcements came again to the attack, shaking their banners and yelling like mad-men, they came, but only to recoil, broken and shattered before our deadly volleys. Once again did they charge our unshaken line, but to be hurled back as before.

Night was now rapidly coming on, and we were anxiously looking for the balance of our troops to cross the river, but they did not come, and after twice getting orders, we began slowly to recross the river.

Our regiment and the 34th Massachusetts, than which there was no braver nor more gallant regiment in the service—were left to protect the rear, and of course, were the last to effect the crossing, in doing which many lives were lost, quite a number of men in the regiment being either shot in the river or drowned in its rushing waters.

Lieut. Willoughby, of company F, was wounded, and Lieut. Williams, of company B, was killed, while fording the river—a noble-hearted fellow, mourned by all who knew him. Orderly Davis, of company A, mortally wounded while firing the last shot at the enemy, was carried to an Island midway of the stream, where he was left to die—but before his brave spirit winged its flight to that other camping ground, he placed under a log by his side, his watch, pocket-book, knife, and all of his trinkets, and the next day when his comrades returned to the spot to give him burial, these things were missed; when the log being accidentally misplaced, his treasures were disclosed, and afterwards were sent home to his wife. Knowing his hours were few, lying there alone, dying, with only God’s Angels watching over him, his last thoughts were of the dear ones at home, secreting his effects as narrated, hoping them to fall into the hands of his friends, that his wife and babies might receive this, his last, his dying gift. We often read of heroism upon the battle field when the blood is up, with flags waving in the breeze, bright bayonets gleaming on every side, and the thundering of cannon crashing through the air. But thus to die alone, to fill an unknown and forgotten grave, with the sad murmurings of the Shenandoah chaunting its endless requiem around his resting-place, and leave such evidence of coolness and christian fortitude in meeting the grim messenger face to face, is a kind of bravery before which that of the battlefield pales into insignificance.

Sergeant Hart, our color bearer, was shot in the arm while going down the bank. Adjutant McCracken standing near by, relieved him of the flag and started across the river, but getting into deep water, was compelled to let it go in the rushing waters, in order to save himself. The flag however was recovered soon after, it having lodged in a fallen tree just below, and after being borne through several other engagements, was sent to Columbus, where, a mere shred, it now hangs in the Arm and Trophy Department of the State.

Why we were not supported in this engagement was always a mystery to us, unless our finding the enemy in force determined Gen. Wright that it would not be prudent to cross over more troops, and so issued the order for us to fall back.

We found the 6th and 19th corps’ drawn up in good shape, and as we marched through their lines, our little division did not present a very flattering appearance—as every man was wet “through and through,” and generally covered with mud, from climbing the clay river banks. We encamped under the shelter of a dense woods, just back from the river, and proceeded to dry our clothing, and get our guns and ammunition in condition for service.

On the 19th, the 6th and 19th corps’ moved off in the direction of Washington, and we heard, that they had got up another scare at the capital. The next day after the departure of these troops, we again crossed the river higher up, at the regular ford, in a drenching rain storm; we waded the river, which, at this point, was about two feet deep, and it was quite laughable to see some of the men attempt to keep dry. We went into camp just on the other side, remaining there until the next day, when we pushed on to Winchester.

On the 24th, about noon, signs of the enemy’s approach became evident, and our forces were soon in position, and at 2 o’clock a fierce battle was once more raging around the valley city. For several hours the field was fiercely contested, when, being overpowered on all sides, our troops were compelled to fall back, saving all our trains, and taking with us the most of our wounded. It will be remembered that we were opposed by the same army that we measured strength with over the same ground one month later, after being reinforced by the 6th and 19th corps’, with Gen. Sheridan commanding. In this engagement the gallant Gen. Mulligan fell, fighting at the head of his division, just as the day was lost.

No shoes or clothing had been issued to our men since the Hunter raid, and many of our boys were still bare-foot, for such of them, that retreat, was simply terrible; many of them unable to walk upon their blood-clotted feet, were compelled to fall out and were taken prisoners, most of whom died afterwards from cruel treatment in Andersonville. We made a stand at Bunker Hill, holding the enemy in check until early next morning, then fell back to Martinsburg, skirmishing all the way. We held the town until all the military stores at this point, together with our sick and wounded, had been put into cars and started for Cumberland, on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad; when with our train we fell back to Williamsport, fording the Potomac. On the morning of the 26th we pushed on through Sharpsburg, thence to Pleasant Valley, on to Harper’s Ferry, where we again crossed the Potomac, and went into camp on the 28th at Hall Town, four miles distant.

Thus in sixteen days had we, in our worn-out condition, many of the men without shoes or proper clothing, fought in two severe engagements and marched one hundred and ninety miles. Here we made out clothing and pay rolls, and on July 30th, while issuing clothing to the men, received orders to march to the defense of the Capitol, and immediately started back into Maryland. None who were on that march will soon forget the intense heat of that July day; it is said that over one hundred of the army died from sun stroke, and many more were seriously effected. After marching around through Maryland for four or five days, it was discovered that the “Washington scare” had been over estimated, and on the 5th of August we went into camp at Monocacy, where our division was ordered out at sun-down to witness the execution of a deserter from the 23d O. V. I., being the first and only time during the war that our regiment was called upon to witness such a scene.