Drum Taps in Dixie Part 4

Soon the enemy commenced to throw sh.e.l.l at us from numerous guns and maintained a heavy fire for some time. We were ordered to lie down and thus escaped with few casualties. My drum that was on the top of a pile of officers' luggage in the rear of the line was ruined by a piece of sh.e.l.l.

About 10 o'clock the Confederates attempted to turn our left flank, but our line was changed to intercept the movement, which was unsuccessful.

The rebel infantry had been brought up to the front line and were firing at us at a furious rate. It being apparent that we were outnumbered our colonel ordered a retreat, which was conducted in an orderly manner until Gen. Stuart sent his cavalry after us and then a panic ensued.

Just before our march to the front the son of an officer of the regiment came to make his father a visit, and being there when we got orders to take the field, he thought it would be a fine thing to go along and see the sights--a sort of picnic. We, being somewhere near the same age, were in each other's company a great deal. When the regiment became engaged at Bull Run we were the source of much anxiety to our fathers and, not being of any particular use on the firing line, were sent to the rear, where the baggage wagons and "coffee coolers" were a.s.sembled. When the break in the lines occurred and the troops rushed pell mell to the rear there were some lively movements. Everybody went and stood not on the order of their going. Charley Rogers of our company--a former resident of Lorraine--drove a four-horse team which drew a wagon loaded with baggage belonging to the officers of the regiment. Charley saw us boys and called out to "get aboard," and be "d.a.m.n lively about it, too." It was one of the old style government wagons, canvas-covered with a round hole at the rear end. We crawled up in front and sat with our backs against Charley's seat and facing the rear. Didn't we get a shaking up, though? For Rogers sent the horses for all they were worth. Occasionally there would be a jam in the road caused by some wagon breaking down. Near Bull Run Bridge a blockade occurred, and while we sat there expecting that the rebel cavalry would swoop down and demand our surrender we were terrorized by seeing the point of a bayonet looking at us through the hole at the rear of the wagon.

Before we recovered ourselves enough to speak somebody behind that gun and bayonet gave it a shove and the glittering piece of cold steel pa.s.sed between us two boys and embedded itself in the back of Charley's seat.

Then the pale face of a soldier was stuck through the hole and instead of a Johnnie reb it was one of our regiment by the name of Hawkins.

When near Bull Run bridge the road became so blocked that we could not move.

A section of a light battery came along and the drivers thought they could pull out to the roadside and pa.s.s. In doing so the wheels of one gun sank in the soft ground and, toppling over on the side, became entangled in the fence.

Nearly all of the men deserted it and ran for dear life.

One driver stuck to his horses and plied the whip, but the carriage refused to move.

The enemy were coming steadily on and the bullets began to whistle unpleasantly. We had gotten out of our wagon, intending to go ahead on foot.

About this time along came a member of our company by the name of Will McNeil, who was serving as a teamster. He had abandoned his wagon and was riding one of his big mule team and leading the other.

Hawkins hailed him, saying "See here McNeil, hitch your mules on ahead of these artillery horses and let's save this gun from capture."

"All right," says McNeil, and in less time than it takes to tell it Mc's mules were made the lead team and McNeil and Hawkins stood at their side and plied the whips, and they lifted the gun and saved it from falling into the hands of the enemy, for it would surely have been captured, but for Hawkins and McNeil.

Between Bull Run and Centreville we met Gen. Taylor and his Jersey brigade that had been sent out by rail from Alexandria to try and regain the lost fight, but Jackson had pushed forward A. P. Hill's and Bristol's divisions and several batteries, and the Jersey troops were quickly routed, Gen.

Taylor himself losing a leg in the encounter.

The story of the battle, the skeedaddle, etc., is a matter of history. It was a contest of several days and both armies became involved.

Thousands of brave men were killed and wounded and among the officers who gave up their lives on the Union side was the beloved and dashing Gen.

Phil Kearney, who made such a record at the battle of Seven Pines.

The story of his conduct that day has been told in verse by the poet, Stedman:

"So that soldierly legend is still on its journey That story of Kearney who knew not to yield!

'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry and Birney, Against twenty thousand he rallied the field.

Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest, Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine, Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest, No charge like Phil Kearney's along the whole line."

"He snuffed like his charger the wind of the powder, His sword waved us on and we answered the sign; Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder; There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!

How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten In the one hand still left, and the reins in his teeth!

He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath.

Up came the reserves to the melee infernal, Asking where to go in--thro' the clearing or pine?

'O anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, colonel; You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!'"

CHAPTER IV.

INCIDENTAL TO BULL RUN.

THE CAPTURE OF UNCLE HAWLEY.

Henry Hawley was his name, but the boys of Company H always called him "Uncle," and so he appears on our company record.

Hawley was not cut out for a soldier--in fact he was several sizes too large. His corpulency made him appear rather ludicrous when he tried to line up with the slender youths of the company on dress parade.

Tom Murphy, the orderly sergeant, was always yelling out "right dress there, Hawley."

One Sunday morning the regiment was being inspected by an Irish major and as he came to Hawley he looked him over and remarked that he didn't know what the h--l anybody was thinking of to enlist a man of his build, and he should think the best thing to do with him was to send him home. "All right, sir," says Hawley, "I'll go today, if you please."

The man was a natural wit and an adept in the use of sarcasm, and had a way of talking back to his superiors that usually put the laugh on them.

The truth is the boys of '61 didn't stand much "putting on airs" by the officers, and if one did make a show of his authority the men made life miserable for him.

Hawley was finally made to earn his $11 a month (that was our munificent pay then) by doing duty as company cook, a position he filled with credit to himself and satisfaction to his boarders. He was not content to serve up "salt hoss" and boiled beef in the easy manner of most army cooks, but was ever fixing us a nice treat of hash or an "Irish stew" with dumplings, and Hawley's dumplings became famous throughout the Second Heavy.

Evenings we used to gather around the cook house and listen to Hawley's impersonations of Shakespearean characters, in which he was very clever, and from Shakespeare he would turn to the Bible, with which he was exceedingly familiar.

When we went to the front Hawley left his camp kettles behind and shouldered a musket. On the retreat from Bull Run Hawley became played out and he declared he could go no further. The boys urged him to keep along with them and not get captured, but Hawley said if they wanted him they would have to take him, which they did and got an elephant on their hands too. Hawley's account of his experience with the rebels was very funny.

They found him lying by the roadside and ordered him to get up and go along with them. He told them he could not march another step, and if they wanted him to go to Libby prison they would have to furnish a conveyance.

The rebel officer coaxed, swore and threatened, but all to no purpose.

Hawley would not budge an inch. Finally a horse was brought and he was told to mount. Hawley declared he could not and then the officer directed some of the men to a.s.sist him, and two guards were ordered to walk by the side of the horse and hold him on. Hawley's comments about the razor-backed horse and other sarcastic remarks made sport for all except the officer in charge, who threatened more than once to gag his tormentor.

The Confederates probably thought the best thing to do was to get Hawley off their hands, so after keeping him in captivity a couple of days they paroled him and sent him inside our lines instead of to Andersonville prison, where so many of his comrades had to go, many never to return.

FINISHED HIS SMOKE IN LIBBY.

An incident of the stampede from Mana.s.sas ill.u.s.trates how unconcerned some are amidst danger and excitement. Jimmy West, a little Irishman of our company, was a character and an inveterate smoker and never lost a chance to indulge himself. After the retreat was well under way, Jimmy bethought himself of his pipe and tobacco, but a match was lacking and none of his nearby comrades had one, so he yelled out to our first sergeant, at the head of the company:

"I say there, orderly, hev' you a bit of a match about ye?"

"To thunder with your pipe, Jimmy," responded Sergt. Murphy. "You better be using your short legs pretty lively or you'll be smoking in Libby prison tomorrow evening," and sure enough Jimmy was among those captured.

The most ludicrous incident connected with the Bull Run affair occurred near Fairfax Court House when we supposed we were safe from the Confederate cavalry.

Between Centreville and Fairfax we pa.s.sed the 14th Ma.s.sachusetts, that had formed a line of battle across the turnpike to arrest the pursuing Confederates.

We breathed somewhat easier after we had put the troops between us and our pursuers.

The day was an intensely hot one, and the hundreds of horses galloping over the turnpike, hauling the heavy wagons, raised clouds of dust that were nearly suffocating, so when we crossed a little stream of water most of the teamsters halted in a large field near by for the purpose of refreshing and resting their exhausted steeds.

The two boys got out of the wagon, stretched their legs and with many others went over to the creek for a wash up.