Читать книгу A Summer in Maryland and Virginia; Or, Campaigning with the 149th Ohio Volunteer Infantry онлайн

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The mere statement gives no idea of the magnitude of this force, but when I say that it took an entire day to pass our camp, the Cavalry and Infantry in column of fours, some idea may be had of the grandeur of this army. They were moving against Early, for the authorities at Washington had become tired of the harassing raids of the rebels into the north through the Shenandoah, which had almost become “the valley of humiliation” to them. Our brigade was distributed through the length of the train, each company in charge of thirty wagons. The day was pleasant when we started. We marched through Charlestown where they had hung John Brown. The place seemed deserted, the only sign of life being a negro woman peeping at us from a half closed door. We pushed on, we had orders to make Winchester by the next morning, for the army needed supplies.

Soon after dark, in spite of warning from the officers, the men began to straggle, dropping out of ranks; some were getting into wagons, others climbing the fences and sleeping in the fields, expecting to overtake their command by morning. My chum, James Ghormley, and myself, after marching until eleven o’clock at night, concluded that we were too tired to go any longer that night, and that a good sleep was just what we needed. We were within two miles of Berryville when this notion entered our heads. When we awoke daylight was just visible, and we hurried on to overtake our Regiment, expecting to boil coffee at the first fire we came to. We walked on and soon came to where the train had “parked,” that is, had encamped for the night, and were just pulling out. It has been said that this stop was made without orders from our officers, but that the rebels, riding along during the night dressed in our uniform, saying they were aids, had given these orders, their object being to cut off the train and attack it for plunder. Our little squad soon came to where a company of the 144th Ohio were cooking breakfast. We asked permission to boil coffee at their fire. This was readily given. We stacked arms, and our coffee had just come to a boil when “bang! bang!” came two artillery shots at us, scattering the limbs of the trees above our heads. These shots were followed by a volley from a clump of woods. Then they charged, yelling as they came. They were Mosby’s Guerrillas, 400 strong, made up of raiders, who disbanded when too hardly pressed and became the innocent farmers of the valley. We grasped our guns, leveled them over the stone wall, gave them one volley, when the Captain in command gave the order to scatter and save ourselves. Well, we ran. In the confusion Ghormley and I became separated and I saw him no more. I was with the most of the company going up a steep lane toward a farm house, about half a mile from the road, passed through a patch of corn and an orchard, and came to the house. A man was sitting on the porch, and he told me to run to the barn. I took his advice. The barn was a mow on stilts, open on every side, and stood on high ground. I stopped for a moment and looked over the field. The raiders were shooting our men down in every direction. I climbed into the hay mow. If I hadn’t this story would never have been written. Like the Irishman who was asked if he run at the battle of Bull Run. “Shure I did, them that didn’t run are there yet.” The fight was hot for a little while, but Mosby hurried for fear of the army ahead. He captured 200 prisoners, 600 head of cattle and burned 70 wagons. He expected to get the paymaster, who was with us, with money for the army. The paymaster was shrewd; he had packed the money in a cracker box and placed it in a wagon, keeping his strong box in his own vehicle. During the fight this cracker box was tumbled down the banks of a little creek that ran through the field. I saw it lying there and after the skirmish the paymaster came back and got it. This attack was a complete surprise and was a great loss to Sheridan’s army. I joined our boys who were gathering together on the field. As I passed through the house lot I saw lying on his face the body of a handsome young lieutenant, who was shot by one of our company. The ball entered his forehead and scattered his brains. He was Lieut. Eddy of Mosby’s men, a member of one of the good families in Richmond, Va. Gen. Mosby lamented his loss greatly, he being one of his most trusted men. Our Colonel and Adjutant came riding back in full gallop and hastily reformed the men, formed a skirmish line and scoured the field, picking up discarded arms and compelling an old man who had come to the field with a mule and cart, to pick up what he could and to haul them on to Winchester. We guarded the wagons that were left on to Winchester, where we found the Regiment. That night we slept on the stone pavements of the town and on the next day were sent out on picket, south of the town. We remained there two nights and a day. On the 15th of August we started on our return early in the morning. Before starting Col. Brown made a speech to the Regiment in which he berated them for straggling in the enemy’s country, said “he would punish severely any disobedience of his orders.” We reached Berryville at noon and camped at the farm where the fight had taken place. Two wounded men of the 144th were lying on the porch of the house. They informed us that almost every man of their company had been captured. The 144th lost 130 men in this engagement. Lieut. Eddy had been buried in a shallow grave in one corner of the house lot. We kept a sharp outlook for our missing comrades, hoping that they had made their way back to Harper’s Ferry.